Simple Choices (16 page)

“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 talking 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.”

“Well, the town is certainly thrilled. How do the more conservative Mennonite residents respond to you?”

John sat down again and began to clean Papa’s palm with disinfectant and a large cotton ball. “Great. They have no problem with me at all. I think a long time ago some Old Order Mennonites may have gotten their medical services through their local area oversight committee. But as far as I know, that doesn’t really happen anymore.”

“So everything’s smooth sailing?”

He turned around and grinned at me. “I didn’t say that. I’m still not used to having my bill paid in food.”

I laughed. “What kind of food?”

He turned his attention back to Papa who smiled up at me. “Anything you can think of. Baked goods, meat, corn … Last week, one woman tried to give me a beautiful quilt her mother made. I turned her down. I couldn’t take something that meant so much to her.”

“Gracie,” Papa said, frowning, “have you found your grandmother’s wedding present yet? She’ll be very upset if I don’t make sure you get it.”

I shot John a quick look. “No, Papa. I haven’t found it. But let’s not worry about it right now, okay? We need to get your hand taken care of. Then we’ll find Mama’s gift. Okay?”

Papa nodded slowly. “Okay, Gracie. But I can’t have Essie upset with me.”

I patted his shoulder. “I know. I know. We’ll look for it when we get home.”

“Okay. Well, am I gonna keep my hand, Doc?”

“I think you will, Mr. Temple.” John finished wrapping gauze around Papa’s hand and secured it with tape. “Gracie, I’m sending some bandages home with you. Just keep the cut covered and clean. Change the bandages once a day. In a few days it should be fine.”

“We will,” I said. “Are you ready, Papa?”

“Yes, I believe I am.” He frowned and rubbed his stomach. “Are we late for dinner? I’m getting hungry.”

I smiled at him. “We had to leave lunch because you cut your hand. Let’s get back to the restaurant, okay?”

“Why yes. That sounds good.” He held out his other hand to John. “Thank you very much, Doctor. What do I owe you?”

John shook Papa’s hand. “Nothing, Mr. Temple. All I did was clean out your cut and put a bandage on it. I have no intention of charging you for something so trivial.”

Papa studied John for a moment. “Well, it isn’t trivial to me, son. And I think you can call me Joe now.”

John smiled. “Thanks, Joe. I appreciate it.”

Papa continued to stare at John for a while. His forehead was wrinkled in thought, and I was almost certain it was because of John’s resemblance to his father. I took his arm, attempting to get him out of the office before he made the connection. “Come on, Papa. Let’s let Doctor Keystone go back to work. We need to get to the restaurant before someone decides to toss out your peach cobbler.”

Papa’s eyes widened. “Can’t let that happen. Let’s get moving, Gracie girl.”

I laughed and waved good-bye to John. When we stepped out onto the sidewalk, the heat was invasive. As folks in Kansas say, “It’s not the heat, it’s the humidity.” Today it was both. I led Papa across the street and into Mary’s. My father got up when he saw us and then came over to take Papa’s arm and help him to the table.

“I hope Jessie kept Papa’s cobbler warm,” I said. “He’s still hungry.”

“It’s waiting for him in the kitchen,” Dad said. “Along with yours.”

Papa smiled at his son. “Good for you, Daniel. Waste not, want not.”

Dad smiled. “I know, Papa. You taught us that very well.”

I was just about to sit down when I heard someone call out my name. Pat had just walked in the front door, and he waved me over. I excused myself and hurried over to meet him.

“It’s about time,” I said. “Where have you been?”

“I’ve been a little busy. Didn’t you get my message?”

“Yes, but I really need to talk to you. It’s important.”

He glanced quickly around the room. “I need to speak to you, too. Can we go outside for a moment?”

His grim expression caused a shiver to run down my spine. I gazed back at the table where Jessie had just put my cobbler on the table again. After catching my father’s eye, I held up my finger as a way to let him know I was going outside and would be back soon. “Okay, let’s go,” I said to Pat.

I followed him out the door and down the steps. He finally stopped next to one of the wooden rails where residents who rode horses or drove buggies into town tied them up. He leaned against it and stared at me, his arms crossed. “Look, I know how you’re going to react to this, but I want you to try to keep your cool.”

A prickling sensation spread across my scalp. “Is—is it Hannah?” I croaked out.

“No, we still haven’t found Hannah, but the police have found the girl who went missing from Topeka. The one they believed was abducted by her boyfriend. She wasn’t with him at all. Thankfully, she’s fine. Just took off on her own for a while.”

“That’s wonderful news.”

“We also found the other girl. The one who got into that red truck.”

I breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe there wasn’t some kind of crazed serial killer running around Kansas after all. “Okay, and what’s her story?”

“She was in the middle of a cornfield about ten miles from here.” He hesitated a moment, his eyes locked on mine. “She’s dead, Gracie. She was murdered.”

I
guessed I swayed a little because Pat reached out and grabbed me by the shoulders. “Come over here and sit down,” he ordered. I lowered myself to the edge of the wooden sidewalk behind us. Truth was, I did feel a little dizzy.

“You say she was murdered? How—how do you know that? Could she have died accidentally?”

He sat down next to me. “No, Gracie. She’d been strangled, and there was evidence she’d been bound for several days before she was killed.”

“Do they have any idea who did it?”

Pat took off his hat and ran his hand over his closely cropped hair. “There are some things about this killing that match several others across the country over the last several years. The FBI thinks it might be the same man. He’s never been in Kansas before, but he may be here now.”

My eyes filled with tears that trickled down my face. My previous relief over the absence of a serial killer in the area evaporated. “But—but that means Hannah …”

“That means absolutely nothing as far as Hannah is concerned,” he said gruffly. “I still think Hannah ran away. It’s just a coincidence that it occurred at the same time. Believe me, I’ve seen this happen before. There can be a couple of similar circumstances in cases that cause concern during a situation like this. But it doesn’t mean they’re connected.”

I started to ask him how he could possibly know this seeing he was just a sheriff over a small county in Kansas, but then I remembered that he used to work in an area that probably gave him a lot of experience dealing with awful crimes. “But Pat, this is a serial killer!” I cried. “Hannah looks just like the girl in Topeka. How can you possibly tell yourself that these disappearances aren’t related? The truth is that Hannah may have been abducted by the same man!”

He stared at the hat he held in his hands. “If the girl in Topeka
was
killed by this guy, and that hasn’t been confirmed yet, he doesn’t stick to blonds. Remember that the other two girls are okay. It’s just a coincidence they all had blond hair like Hannah. There’s no real link between the murdered girl and Hannah.”

“But I have proof she was taken against her will.”

He frowned at me. “And what would that be?” The impatience in his voice made it clear he was beginning to get frustrated.

“I found her bracelet on the road out of town.”

He shook his head and sighed. “And how does this tell me she was taken against her will?”

I slowly explained the entire thing—about how the bracelet couldn’t have slipped off her wrist. And how it had to be a message from Hannah that she was in trouble. Throughout my entire diatribe, his stoic expression didn’t change. Surely I was getting through to him, but I couldn’t tell. Finally I stopped talking and waited for his reaction.

“Look, I’ve already turned over the information about Hannah to the Kansas Bureau of Investigation so they can determine whether or not Hannah’s case could be related to the others. Finding a bracelet that may or may not have been owned by Hannah isn’t going to change anything.”

“But it’s proof …”

“No, it isn’t proof,” Pat said, his tone sharp. “It’s just a bracelet. The KBI isn’t going to find this
evidence
compelling.”

“Well, maybe they would if they ever hear about it.” I wiped my face with the back of my hand.

Pat took out his handkerchief and started to hand it to me.

“No thanks. I think I’m through. For now anyway.”

He stuck the piece of cloth back into his pocket. “Look Gracie, I’m not going to lie to you. The KBI has no interest in Hannah’s disappearance. There are certain signs they look for. Hannah’s case doesn’t have any of them.”

“Like what?” I demanded.

He sighed. “I’m not going to tell you what they are. Why don’t you just let the people who are experienced in this sort of thing do their job? You need to concentrate on your wedding.”

“I know about the red truck—and the weird bumper sticker.”

His eyes widened. “And how did you hear about that?”

“I can’t tell you.”

He glared at me like I’d just committed a felony. “Okay. Did anyone see Hannah picked up by someone in a red pickup with a ‘weird’ bumper sticker?”

“Well no, but …”

“But nothing,” he said. “There is no evidence whatsoever that ties Hannah to the guy they’re looking for.”

I could feel my temper rise. “What kind of evidence, Pat? What do you need to believe she’s been kidnapped?”

“Something a lot more solid than your feelings and a lost bracelet.”

I shook my head. “It’s all I have.” I looked into his eyes. “How about going the extra mile because we’re family? Does that mean anything to you?”

“That’s not fair.”

“I don’t care. Nothing will make me give up on Hannah. Nothing.”