by Nancy Mehl
Everyone at the table joined in the laughter except Papa Joe. He smiled and looked around the table, but I could tell he was lost. It was like we’d all gotten in our car to take a trip and left him standing on the curb watching us go.
“Them was some happy times back then,” Sweetie said, chuckling. “You boys was always gettin’ in trouble, though, as I remember.”
C.J. nodded. “The pastor of the church wasn’t too happy with us most of the time. But there was another man … what was his name?” His face wrinkled as he tried to pull up the memory. “Ugly man. I think he was the church custodian. Anyway, I swear that man hated us with a passion. I always got the feeling he was sweet on you, Miss Goodrich.”
“Call me Sweetie,” she said. “My friends do. And you’re talking about Jacob Glick.”
C.J. snapped his fingers. “That’s it. Jacob Glick.” He shook his head. “Hope he’s not hanging around here somewhere. That’s one man I’d rather not ever run into again.”
“I guess your mama didn’t tell you,” Sweetie said. “Glick died about thirty years ago now, so you don’t have to worry about him no more.”
I waited for Sweetie to say something more about Glick, but thankfully she didn’t. Good. I didn’t want to see Papa upset again, and besides, I was tired of thinking about Glick. Better to let sleeping dogs lie. I cringed inwardly. Another Sweetie-ism. Yikes. I certainly didn’t mind emulating her in many ways, but there were some aspects of Sweetie’s personality that should remain with her alone.
Just then Jessie returned to our table. “How about some dessert, folks? Hector just took some peach cobbler out of the oven.”
I’d been convinced I didn’t want dessert, but Hector’s peach cobbler was something no one could resist. Sam, Sweetie, and I nodded in unison.
“Think I’ll pass,” Mom said. “I’m full.”
“Bring her a small piece, Jessie,” I said. I held up my hand when my mother started to protest. “Trust me, Mom. If you don’t want it, I’ll take it home. You really don’t want to pass up Hector’s hot peach cobbler.”
“That’s good enough for me,” my father said, smiling. “Bring Papa and me some, too.” He looked up at C.J. “Why don’t you join us? The cobbler’s on me.”
“Oh thank you,” he said. “But I’ve bothered you folks long enough.” He patted his pocket. “I brought my trusty notepad with me, and I plan to do some scribbling in it until I have some kind of workable repair schedule. But thank you for asking. Maybe some other time?”
My dad nodded. “Definitely. We’ll be here for another week and a half. Let’s get together soon.”
“Thank you, Daniel.” He put his cap back on his head. “So nice to talk to all of you. Hope you have a wonderful afternoon.”
We all echoed his sentiments. C.J. found a table near the door and sat down. Sure enough, he brought out his pad and pen and began to write.
“Nice fellow,” Dad said. “Good to run into people who lived here when we did.”
Sweetie snorted. “He does seem like a nice fella now, but he was a little terror when he was a kid.”
“Now Sweetie,” Sam said. “Most boys are a handful when they’re young.”
“Well, you weren’t,” she said, one eyebrow raised higher than the other. “And Daniel and Benjamin weren’t neither.”
“But I’m exceptional,” Sam said grinning. “I was raised by the most beautiful and wonderful woman who ever walked the streets of Harmony.”
“Now wait a minute,” Dad said. “I think I married the most beautiful and wonderful woman who ever walked the streets of Harmony.”
“You two are both incorrigible,” my mother said. “Hush up.”
My father’s expression turned from amused to alarmed. I followed his gaze and realized that Papa Joe was drawing a steak knife across his palm. A line of blood began to form.
“Papa!” Dad exclaimed. “Stop that.” He reached out and grabbed the knife from his other hand. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Evil, evil, evil, evil …” Papa stared at his hand while repeating the word over and over.
Chapter Eleven
My mother jumped up and wrapped her napkin around Papa’s hand, her face lined with worry. “Gracie, didn’t you say Harmony has a doctor now? The cut isn’t very deep, but I think we need to have someone look at it.”
Jessie set a large tray filled with bowls of cobbler and ice cream on our table. “Here you go, folks,” she said as she began to pass them out.
I stood up. “Jessie, will you take the ice cream off mine and Papa’s and keep our cobbler warm? We’ve got to go across the street for a few minutes.”
Dad started to protest, but I stopped him. “You guys eat your cobbler. The doctor’s office is just across the street. I’ll take Papa over there and have John take a look at him. When we’re done I’ll bring him right back.”
“But Gracie …” Mom said.
“No but Gracies,” I retorted. “Dad needs to rest his leg. Besides, Papa’s my grandfather, and I can take care of this. We’ll be back as soon as John’s done.” I took Papa’s arm. “Come on, Papa. We’re going across the street, okay?”
“Sure, Gracie,” he said with a smile. “That sounds fine.”
Dad started to object again, but my mom put her hand on his arm. “Let her do it, Daniel. She’s very capable, and Papa is safe with her.”
My father sighed. “All right. Thanks, Gracie. But if you need us …”
“I know just where you are. Besides, now you can grill Sam without me around. I’m sure you’ll enjoy that.”
Sam’s face fell. “Maybe I should come with you …”
“Nothin’ doin’,” Sweetie said. “You stay here and take your medicine.” She winked at me. “If it gets too intense, I’ll come runnin’ for you, Gracie.”
“It’s a deal.” I led Papa to the door of the restaurant and we stepped outside to the sidewalk. I held tight to him as we went down the stairs. When we got to the bottom, he grabbed my arm with his other hand.
“Gracie, you’ve got to protect yourself. He’s evil. He’s so evil.”
“Papa, who are you talking about? Jacob Glick?”
That veil of confusion dropped over his face again. “Yes … yes … Jacob Glick. He’s evil. Don’t let him hurt you. You’ve got to protect yourself.”
I squeezed his arm. “Papa, Jacob Glick is dead. He’s been dead almost thirty years. He can’t hurt me—or anyone.”
He shook his head vigorously. “He’s evil. Evil, evil, evil. I caught him. I caught him.”
“Caught him doing what?”
Papa stared at me like he didn’t know me.
“Papa, you caught him doing what?”
My grandfather shook his head and patted my hand. “We need to get home, Essie,” he said. “The boys will be wanting dinner. Hope the buggy’s nearby.”
“Oh Papa.” I couldn’t keep the sadness out of my voice.
“It’s okay, Essie. We’ll make it in plenty of time.”
Ken and Alene Ward, a young farm couple who lived about a mile down the road from Ida, had come out of the restaurant and were standing behind us. I wasn’t sure just how much of our conversation they’d overheard, but as I began to pull Papa away, I felt a hand on my shoulder.
“We’re going through the same thing with my father,” Alene said softly. “We’ll be praying for you.”
“Th–thank you,” I said, trying to keep myself from bawling. I finally convinced Papa to come with me, and we made our way across the street to what used to be Keystone Meats. Now the sign read, JOHN KEYSTONE, M.D. Our small town had gained a doctor, but thankfully we hadn’t lost our meat store. Rufus Ludwig, a newcomer to Harmony, opened up a new shop in a nearby abandoned building. Rufus was a genial man whose past was rather mysterious. He would only say that he’d moved to Harmony from Illinois and was someone who needed to start over. Most folks in Harmony respected his privacy, although there were a few busybodies like Es
ther Crenshaw who had decided he was an ex-con. Regardless, Esther bought her meat from Rufus along with everyone else. Ludwig’s Meat was a blessing for the restaurant as well as our residents. Although it’s not the only source of beef available since we have two local townspeople who raise cattle and sell fresh meat from their farms, it’s a lot easier to run to Ludwig’s when you need something for dinner.
Papa and I walked into John’s office and found four members of the Breyer family waiting. The Breyers are a very large family who live on the edge of town. Cecil Breyer works at a grain elevator near Emporia. His job is considered the most dangerous in Kansas. Every year, people die from accidents at grain elevators. But Cecil’s love for his eight children keeps him going back since the pay and benefits are so good. For some reason, at least one of Cecil’s kids seems to always be sick. Good health insurance was vital to the family.
“Why hello there, Gracie,” Abbie Breyer said when she saw me. “Doc’s with Moses now. Shouldn’t take more than a couple more minutes.”
Before I could respond, the door to the back room swung open and John came out with little Moses. John smiled when he saw me.
“Abbie,” he said, patting the small boy on the top of his head, “Moses has the flu. I gave him a shot. All you can do now is make sure he rests and give him lots of liquids.” John pointed at Moses. “And by liquids I mean water or juice. Not pop.”
“Ah Doc,” Moses moaned. He pushed the bangs of his long brown hair out of his face. “Pop makes me feel better.”
John chuckled. “Well, it doesn’t make your body feel better.” He smiled at Abbie. “Water and juice, Abbie, okay?”
She nodded. “What should he eat, Doc? I tried to get some soup down him, but he wouldn’t have none of it.”
“I hate soup,” Moses said glumly. “It tastes like throw up.”
“Moses!” Abbie said, her face reddening while the other two children with her giggled with childish delight. “I’m sorry, Doc. Sometimes the things he says …”
John laughed and shook his head. Then he knelt down in front of the small boy. “Okay, Moses. Just what kind of food doesn’t taste like throw up?”
Moses’ face brightened immediately. “Ice cream,” he said with a dreamy smile. “Ice cream doesn’t taste like throw up.”
John stood up. “Abbie, you still make your own ice cream, don’t you?”
She nodded. “Don’t like all the chemicals in the store-bought stuff. I’ve been making these children ice cream their whole lives.”
“Then I prescribe ice cream,” John said, trying to look serious. “Feed him ice cream three times a day until he’s hungry for something else.”
Moses’ eyes got big as he stared up at John who towered over him. “You are the very best doctor in the whole world,” he said, his voice full of awe.
“Well thank you, Moses. That’s not what you said when I gave you the shot, though.”
Moses thought this over. “Well,” he said slowly, “people change.”
Abbie turned her face away so Moses wouldn’t see her laugh. She covered her mouth and tried to make it sound as if she had to cough. A few moments later, after composing herself, she turned back toward her son. “Okay, Moses. Tell Doctor Keystone good-bye, and let’s get going. Gracie needs to see him now.”
John frowned at me. “Are you okay, Gracie?” Then he saw the white linen napkin wrapped around Papa’s hand. “Oh, looks like you cut yourself,” he said to Papa.
“John, this is my grandfather, Joe Temple.”
“How do you do, Mr. Temple?”
Papa didn’t respond, he just stared at John as if he was trying to place him. But since Papa had never met John before, it was an exercise in futility.
John smiled at Papa anyway and pointed toward the back room. “Go on in, and we’ll take a look.”
John said his good-byes to Moses, his mother, and his brother and sister. Then he followed Papa and me into his exam room. I gazed around, impressed by the change. It had gone from a place that stored meat to an exam room that was clean and nicely stocked with medical equipment.
“Almost looks like you know what you’re doing,” I quipped.
“Almost,” John said with a grin. He led Papa over to a chair. “Let’s take a look at that hand.”
Papa’s gaze was locked on John’s face, his eyes wide, his hand clenched tightly around the cloth napkin. I started to explain where we were and why we were here but suddenly I remembered that John looked quite a bit like his father, Jacob Glick. Except Glick’s face was twisted in a way that displayed the evil in his soul, while the same features in his son turned out quite differently. John’s aquiline nose accented his good looks. Glick’s nose had just added to his long, horsey face. John’s dark hair and eyes echoed his father’s, but where Glick’s overgrown black eyebrows had made him seem to be permanently scowling, John’s eyebrows fit his features. And the dimple in John’s chin was manly and attractive whereas his father’s had given his face a misshapen appearance. But did Papa see the difference, or did he think he was looking into the eyes of Jacob Glick? Would he have another episode? The possibility frightened me.
I touched John’s shoulder. “Can I talk to you just a moment? It’s really important.”
I explained to Papa that I had to speak to the doctor for just a few minutes and asked him to stay where he was. He nodded, but his eyes were still glued to John.
John looked at me strangely but agreed to come with me. We stepped into a supply room next to the exam area. I quickly explained Papa’s condition and his reaction to John’s father’s name.
“So you’re afraid he’ll think I’m my father?” he asked.
“Maybe. You don’t look like him really, but your coloring is the same. And the shape of your face. I just wanted to warn you …”
“Okay, I understand. I’ll do my best to treat him, but we should probably get back in there. I don’t think we should leave a confused man alone for very long.”
“One other thing,” I said slowly. “He—he cut himself on purpose. We were eating lunch at Mary’s, and when I looked over at him, he was slicing his palm with his knife.”
“I hate to say this, but you need to keep a close eye on your grandfather. Keep him away from objects that could injure him. Don’t let him near a hot stove or even hot water without watching him. I’ve seen some really awful accidents.”
“Have you treated many people with Alzheimer’s?”
“A few, although I’m certainly not an expert. My best advice is to try to keep him as calm and relaxed as possible. If he’s confused, don’t try to ‘snap him out of it.’ Too many people do that in my opinion, and it only makes it worse.”
“That’s the same thing my parents said.”
He smiled. “Good, then they’re on the right track. Now let’s get back in there. I’d hate for your grandfather to get any more disoriented … or bleed to death in my exam room. It would be such a bad way to start out my new practice.”
I chuckled. “The cut’s not that deep, but we thought it would be good if you’d take a look anyway.” I reached out and grabbed his arm before he had a chance to leave. Then I peeked around the corner and checked on Papa. He sat docilely in his chair, staring off into space. “Before you go,” I said quietly, “how are things going between … Well, you know, with you and …”
“Sarah?”
“Yes, Sarah. I’ve been gone six weeks, you know. Has anything changed?”
He shook his head. “I realize you’ve been gone six weeks because it’s been that long since anyone stuck their nose in my business.”
I felt my face flush. “Well, it’s not like I don’t know about you two.”
John reached out and put his hand on my shoulder. “Yes, I know. You’ve been right in the middle of it, haven’t you?” He sighed, removed his hand, and ran it through his thick black hair. “We’ve kept our promises, if that’s what you mean. But it hasn’t been easy. Seeing her walk past me—not talki
ng to her. It takes something out of me each time it happens.”
“And Sarah?”
He shrugged. “She doesn’t seem to see me at all. If we’re in the same room, she acts like I’m not there. Her father came in last week, and she waited outside.”
“I’m sorry, John. I’d hoped things would be easier by now.”
His dark eyes peered into mine. “I don’t think they’ll ever be easier, Gracie. My love for her hasn’t diminished one bit. If anything, it’s stronger now than it was before.” He stuck his hands in his pockets. “But there’s nothing that can be done. She won’t walk away from what she believes, and I can’t believe in God just because she does. If I tried to pretend, she’d know. And I’d know. We’d be living a lie, and I can’t allow that to happen.”
“I understand.” I admired John for his ethics, realizing that some people might not be quite so honest.
“Well, let’s see what we’ve got.” He pushed the door open and we went back into the exam room. Papa still sat in his chair. He was quiet but smiled when we came in.
“Mr. Temple, I’m Doctor Keystone. I understand you cut your hand?”
Papa held out the hand covered with the napkin. “I believe I did, Doctor,” he said. “I have no idea how it happened. Just clumsy, I guess.”
John pulled up a stool and positioned himself right in front of Papa. He gently removed the cloth and inspected the cut, which had stopped bleeding. “It’s not too bad. I think we can just clean and bandage it. Stitches aren’t necessary.”
“That’s good, Doctor,” Papa said. “Thank you.”
Papa appeared to have moved past his initial response to John. I breathed a sigh of relief. While John rounded up the antiseptic and bandages, I glanced at the certificates on his wall. “So the medical profession allowed you back, huh? How many hoops did you have to jump through?”
“Not too many. I had to get licensed in Kansas, and because I’d been out of the loop for three years, I had to take some brush-up courses. But all in all, it wasn’t too painful.”