Simple Deceit (The Harmony Series 2) (28 page)

“Why, Sarah,” Gabe said, “you must be feeling better.”

She offered her father a small smile, but the color that had flushed her cheeks moments before faded. “I am, Papa. Gracie and Sweetie have been such wonderful nurses.”

He walked over to where his daughter sat and grabbed her hand. “Thank you, Gracie,” he said to me. “I’ll have to thank Sweetie, too.”

“Well, you can do that in my kitchen.” Sweetie stood in the doorway, her apron speckled with flour and other ingredients from this evening’s dinner preparations. “You all need some good food inside you before you tackle the orchards. Alls I got right now is some sandwiches, but I’m cookin’ up the best pot roast you ever ate for dinner later on. Now everyone get on in here, and let’s have a little lunch before you go outside.”

As if obeying orders, we all followed her to the kitchen. I went last and was able to see the exchange of glances between John and Sarah. I also caught a warning glare Sam sent to Eric. I shook my head. Two situations with different kinds of emotions bubbling below the surface. Before the weekend was over, I wondered if one or both of them would boil over.

S
weetie’s idea of “a little lunch” wouldn’t meet that definition by anyone’s standards. Thick slabs of turkey on homemade bread topped with pepper bacon and thick mayonnaise was accompanied by creamy red potato salad. And of course, pie. In Sweetie’s kitchen, pie was served like a condiment. You have coffee, you have pie. You have lunch—pie. Dinner—pie. Before bed—pie. I was waiting to come down to breakfast to find a thick slice of peach pie and whipped cream instead of the usual bacon, eggs, and pancakes. I ate half a sandwich, a couple of bites of potato salad, and said no to pie.

During lunch I told Sam and the others that the sheriff had stopped by to pick up our unwelcome guest.

“Seems kind of odd,” Sam said. “But I guess if the coroner can’t get here, there isn’t much choice.”

I shrugged. “He died of exposure. Nothing nefarious about that.”

“Nef-fairy…what?” Sweetie frowned at me.

“Nefarious. Shady.”

“Well then, why don’t you just say shady?” she retorted. “Ain’t no reason to use fancy-schmancy words when plain old proper
English will work just as good.”

I looked sideways at Sarah, who wouldn’t meet my gaze. Her short bout of coughing was nothing more than an excuse to cover a case of the giggles. I fought to keep my composure. “You’re right, Sweetie. Sorry.”

John’s raised eyebrow told me he also found Sweetie’s admonition to use “plain old proper English” humorous. There wasn’t a phrase Sweetie couldn’t fracture, and she was incredibly fluent in colorful expressions.

“So just what are we doing this afternoon?” I asked Sam, trying to change the subject before Sarah embarrassed herself.

“
We
aren’t doing anything. The men are going out to the orchards.
You
are staying here.”

“Nonsense.” I felt my temper flare. “I can work just as hard as you can.”

“I know that, Gracie,” Sam said patiently, “but Sarah is still recuperating. I think you should stay here with her.”

“I’m fine, Sam,” Sarah said with a smile. “Gracie doesn’t need to watch me. Besides, Sweetie will be here.”

“Only reason I won’t be out there helpin’ in my orchards is ‘cause I need to keep an eye on what’s in the oven,” Sweetie snapped. “Don’t you go tellin’ any womenfolk where they belong, boy. ”

“I’m not trying to tell the ‘womenfolk’ anything,” Sam said with a sigh. “I’m just pointing out that someone needs to stay with Sarah.” He paused. “And watch the food, it seems. Sweetie, you and Gracie work it out between you. Whichever one of you wants to help, get bundled up. It’s cold and getting colder. You’re liable to be looking at frostbite before we’re done.”

“I—I didn’t bring any gloves, and I’m afraid these pants aren’t very thick,” Eric said.

“No problem,” Sam said. “I’ve got the proper clothes you can
borrow—if you still want to help. If you don’t, I totally understand.” Maybe no one else noticed the touch of sarcasm in his tone, but I did. I scowled at him when Eric wasn’t looking. I knew what he was up to. He was hoping Eric would give up and leave.

“Thanks, Sam,” Eric said. “I’ll take you up on that.”

I smiled at Eric. Good for him. Sam wouldn’t discourage him so easily. It was obvious Eric really wanted to help. Hopefully today would start to change things between Eric and Sam. I had no idea how long the young real estate developer would actually be hanging around Harmony. It depended on what happened with his quest for land. But however much longer it was, it would be helpful if the two men could bury the hatchet and find a way to get along.

After a brief argument with Sweetie about who would go and who would stay, I won. Or maybe I lost. The jury’s still out on that. The winning point was struck when I pointed out that if I stayed to watch her food, I couldn’t guarantee anything. Fear that her pot roast might not survive—and that any gravy from said pot roast might have more lumps than a prizefighter’s head—sealed the deal. She would stay to watch Sarah and the food, and I would work in the orchards.

I changed into my heaviest jeans and the thickest sweater I’d brought with me. Double socks and my boots seemed to pass inspection with Sam, but he made me wear one of Sweetie’s knit caps and a jacket that was so bulky I was reminded of the little boy in the movie
The Christmas Story
who complained that after his mother bundled him up against the cold, he lost the ability to “put my arms down.” Feeling like a big, stuffed snowman, I clomped down the stairs and joined the men. We drove both trucks over to the orchards.

The first order of business was to dump the snow out of the burn barrels that were situated at various locations throughout
the trees. This was difficult since the snow had blown up next to them, almost cementing them to the ground. Sam worked with me while directing John, Gabe, and Eric to follow our lead. I marveled at how well John and Gabe worked together. It was as if there had never been any tension between them. They seemed to really like each other. Maybe in the end, that was enough of a victory. Still, I couldn’t help but hope that one day Gabe, Sarah, and John would be a real family.

“Hey, pay attention,” Sam barked at me. I realized I’d been staring into a barrel Sam was trying to loosen while I did nothing to help him.

“Sorry, just thinking about Sarah and John.” We were far enough away from the others that they couldn’t hear us, so I didn’t try to keep my voice down.

“You’re wasting your time worrying about it.” Sam grunted as he tried to wiggle the barrel loose. “Sarah isn’t going to leave her faith. And I sure don’t see John throwing in with their Old Order beliefs.”

“You know, the gap between people like Abel and Emily and Mennonites like Gabe and Sarah seems to be closing rapidly. Ida has a phone now. And almost every Conservative Mennonite in Harmony has electricity. I think the old ideas about some of the modern conveniences are changing. I read something the other day that said there really aren’t many true Old Order sects left.”

Sam finally freed the barrel. He and I turned it upside down to shake out the snow. “I’ve lived in Harmony almost my entire life,” he said after we set it back down. “And one thing I’ve learned: Just like with all people everywhere, you can’t put titles on the folks in this town.” He stopped for a minute and stared toward Gabe and John. “They all live by what they think is best for them and their families. Most don’t have television, but some do. Most have cars, but some don’t. Most have electricity, but a very few, like
Ida and Gabe, don’t. And everyone respects individual choices. You might be right. Someday soon, some unimportant differences might fade. But the faith of the people here will remain. Gabe doesn’t care whether John has electricity. But he does care that John knows God, and that won’t change. Ever.”

He was right. Gabe and Sarah had made the decision to put God first. Sarah’s feelings for John had been pushed to second place…well, third place actually. Behind her heavenly Father and her earthly father.

A surprised shout rang out from Eric. Sam and I turned to see him backing up from a barrel that was lying on its side. He’d started to set it right side up when he jumped back, tripped, and almost fell. Gabe’s laughter brought us running. One look inside the barrel explained Eric’s reaction. A mother raccoon looked up from a nest she’d made in the barrel. Several baby raccoons snuggled up next to her. The mother’s bared teeth made it clear no one would be removing her and her family without a fight.

“Let’s carefully move the barrel near the barn,” Sam said with a grin. “They’ll be warmer there. We’ve got plenty of other barrels.”

Gabe, Eric, and I watched John and Sam pick up the barrel and carry it as gently as possible so as not to disturb the new family.

“I almost stuck my hand in there,” Eric said, his voice quivering. I couldn’t be sure if it was from fear or the cold.

“Good thing you didn’t, son,” Gabe said. “Raccoons are cute, but they can be vicious. Especially when they’re protecting their young.”

Eric’s expression testified to the fact that Gabe’s words brought no reassurance.

Gabe and I kept our eyes on Eric as he carefully approached the next barrel. He gingerly peeked over the edge before attempting to clean it out. Gabe grinned at me, but neither one of us said anything. I appreciated Eric’s willingness to help out and
had no desire to ridicule him—even though it was pretty funny.

The five of us worked for several hours. Sam and John pushed the snow out of the orchards the best they could so the barrels and pots could warm the ground as much as possible. Sam drove his tractor with the plow on the front while John shoveled snow by hand and dumped it in piles outside the tree line. Finally they began bringing out bunches of kindling wood, which we placed inside the large metal containers. As the weather forecasters had predicted, the temperature continued to plummet. My hands and feet were almost numb, but I didn’t complain. None of the men mentioned the cold, so I didn’t either. A couple of times I came close, but I felt protective of Sam’s trees and determined to save them. After the barrels were ready, the men began dragging the smudge pots out of the barn. Black metal, with a long pipe that stuck out of the top, they were positioned in various spots around the orchard. Then the men put logs soaked in oil in the bottoms of the pots, added more fuel, and lit them. The flame shot out of the top flue and burned so hot it was almost invisible. After that they began lighting the kindling in the barrels.

“Go on back to the house,” Sam shouted to me as I stood back to watch. “You’ve done all you can do. We’ll finish up.”

I wanted to argue, but I was really beginning to worry about my extremities. Besides, I could let Sweetie know they would be coming in soon, so she could have dinner ready. It was already dark, although I had no idea what time it actually was. I trudged back to the house, praying my feet would get some feeling back. Worry about Sam’s trees filled my mind. What if the orchard was lost? What would Sam and Sweetie do?

As I neared the house, I caught myself. What was I doing? Even though I felt as if I would freeze to the spot if I didn’t keep moving, I stopped.

“Father,” I said out loud, “You said that without faith it is
impossible to please You. You also said we’re not to be anxious about anything, but with thanksgiving to send our requests to You. So I’m doing that now. I thank You for giving Sam this incredible home and these magnificent trees. I’m asking You to protect them, and I believe You will. Thank You for loving us so much and for caring about every part of our lives. Amen.” I felt better and realized my feet had begun to tingle. I guess they weren’t going to fall off after all.

When I reached the house, Sweetie stood by the door that led to the screened-in back porch. “ ‘Bout time someone came in. It’s after seven o’clock. You people been out there for hours and hours.” She held the door open and frowned at me. “Where’s the rest of ‘em?”

The fires from the barrels and pots lit up the encroaching darkness, so my answer seemed unnecessary, but I explained anyway. “The men are starting the fires. Sam told me to come in.”

“Can you feel your feet?” she asked.

“Kind of.”

“Come on over here and sit down. We’ll get you warmed up while I get dinner on the table. Those men are gonna be ready to chow down when they get back.”

I gladly entered the warm kitchen. Sarah sat at the table drinking something hot. I didn’t even care what it was; I just pointed at it and plopped down in the nearest chair. She poured me a cup of what turned out to be coffee. I pulled off my gloves and wrapped my frozen fingers around the cup. It felt so good my whole body shivered.

Sweetie knelt down next to me and pulled off my shoes and socks. Then she went to the sink and poured some water in a tub. “Let your feet dangle in this for a while,” she said, carrying it over and putting it down in front of me. “I’ll go get you some nice warm socks.”

Grateful for her help, I stuck my toes in the water. Immediately it felt as if thousands of little needles pierced my skin. I instinctively pulled my feet out.

“Put ‘em back in,” Sweetie said gruffly. “I know it stings, but that water is just room temperature. It won’t hurt you.”

Gingerly I lowered my tingling digits back into the tub. Slowly the rest of each foot followed. It didn’t feel quite so bad this time.

“Are the men almost finished?” Sarah asked after Sweetie left the room.

“Yes. It was a lot of work. I hope it does the trick.”

“It’s usually pretty effective, I guess. The past few winters have been rather mild, so it’s been awhile since I’ve seen it done.”

“Between our work and our prayers, I’m expecting good results. I’d hate to think I almost sacrificed my toes for nothing.”

She smiled. “I would, too.”

I drank the last of the coffee in my cup. “This might be the best coffee I’ve ever tasted.”

“That’s because you’re cold and tired.” She reached for my cup and went to the coffeemaker to pour me another cup.