When Grace Sings (41 page)

Anna—Grace burst out laughing. “He dressed up for cheeseburgers and fries? That’s too funny!”

Alexa didn’t find anything funny about it, but she made herself smile in reply. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“So no movie?”

Alexa shook her head.

“Oh. Too bad. I—” Suddenly she frowned and leaned forward, peering into Alexa’s face in concern. “Alexa, have you been crying?”

Alexa touched her face. Her cheeks were dry but felt stiff from the salty tears that had escaped earlier.

Anna—Grace bounced off the bed and came at her. “You have, haven’t you? Why? What did he do? Did he—”

Alexa held up both hands to stop Anna—Grace’s indignant flow of questions. “He didn’t do anything.”
Except listen to me
. “He was a perfect gentleman all evening.”
And I trusted him way too much
. “Honest, he acted like a big brother.”
A conniving big brother
 …

Anna—Grace stared hard at her for several seconds. Her face finally relaxed. “All right. But then why were you crying? Is it because …” She touched Alexa’s hand, the gesture laden with sympathy. “He’s leaving soon? Good-byes can be hard.”

If he went back to Chicago and wrote about Mom taking a baby who didn’t belong to her, she’d have to face some serious good-byes. And they would be worse than hard. They would be heartbreaking. Tears threatened again. She sniffed. “You know how girls get sometimes—emotional for no good reason. I just had an emotional night. That’s all.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.” My, she had this lying thing down pat. Guilt smacked hard, but she didn’t dare tell anyone else the truth. She inched toward the doorway. “I’m going to bed. I’ll see you in the morning, okay?”

“All right. Good night, Alexa. Pleasant dreams.”

“Thanks. You, too.” She hurried out as fresh tears stung her sore eyes. After what she’d done tonight, she deserved nightmares.

In the middle of breakfast Saturday morning, Alexa’s cell phone sang with Mom’s ringtone.
Saved by the bell …
 Sitting at the table and trying to act natural, as if she hadn’t been a blabby fool the night before, was torture. But she had to follow her usual routine. Grandmother’s legs didn’t work, but her mind was sharp—she’d wonder why Alexa hid in the kitchen. But now she had an excuse to escape.

She jumped up from the table and dashed out of the dining room. As she clattered up the stairs to her room, she answered. “Hello? Mom?”

“Good morning, sweetheart. I decided to call you before I went to sleep so you wouldn’t have to wait until late afternoon to talk. I know I worried you yesterday.”

Mom knew her so well. Alexa closed her bedroom door and sank onto the bed. “Yes, you did. I had a hard time sleeping last night, wondering why you’d give up your job and move to Arborville.” She’d also worried about other things, but she couldn’t bear to tell her mom how careless she’d been. Mom would be so disappointed in her.

“I’m sorry I ruined your sleep. And I don’t want you to worry, okay? Often a closed door is God’s way of moving us where He wants us to be, and I’m going to believe that’s what is happening now.”

The conversation was too cryptic for Alexa to follow. “What door is closing?”

“The doors to the hospital.”

Alexa almost dropped the phone. “Your hospital? But why?”

“For the past several years they’ve had a hard time making ends meet. Even nonprofits have to meet certification requirements and purchase up-to-date equipment. It’s a never-ending challenge.” Mom spoke calmly, assuredly, her voice as soothing as a lullaby despite the difficult subject. “But with recent government changes and more stringent insurance rules, it’s just become more than the church can handle. So they put the hospital up for sale. A corporation has already made an offer the church would be foolish to reject. We might close as early as the end of November. By the end of the year, for sure.”

“Oh, Mom …” Alexa’s chest ached. Mom had poured her heart into the patients at the small church-owned hospital. Leaving it would be like leaving a much-loved friend. She pressed her hand to her jumping stomach. “What about Linda? What will she do?” Mom had always called Linda the glue that held the entire hospital together. Linda would be rudderless without her job as administrator.

“She decided to take it as her time to retire. Tom retired last year already, and he’s pestered her to do the same, but she didn’t want to leave the place in a lurch.” Mom’s soft chuckle filtered through the phone. “She and Tom are already planning a lengthy road trip.”

Alexa released a sigh. “At least she isn’t in mourning.”

“You know Linda—as usual when trials have come our way, she’s encouraged me to see the silver lining instead of focusing on the dark cloud.” Briefly silence fell, and then Mom spoke again, her voice hesitant. “She also suggested I look for a job near Arborville, where I can be closer to you and the rest of my family. What would you think of that?”

“I wouldn’t complain if you were closer, and I’m sure Grandmother would be happy.” After Briley printed the story, though, they might have to change their names and move to Canada. Or Siberia. She swallowed the unpleasant taste of fear and regret. “I wish you could bring Linda and Tom when you come at Thanksgiving. I’d love to see them.”

“Oh, they’d love that, too. They miss their girl.” A yawn met Alexa’s ear. “Sweetheart, I’m bushed. We had three emergencies come in last night—not a minute to catch my breath between them. I need to get some rest. But please don’t worry, all right? We have to trust that everything will work out in the end. Good-bye now. I love you.”

“I love you, too, Mom.” Alexa set the phone aside, then sat staring into nothing, various scenarios forming in her mind. If Briley divulged their secret, Mom might face criminal charges for baby-stealing. Kidnappers faced stiff penalties. She might even go to jail. If he didn’t tell and Mom came here to stay, she’d be in the same town with Anna—Grace. Neither were pretty pictures.

A tap at the door pulled her from her reverie. “Who is it?”

“It’s me—Anna—Grace. Aunt Abigail wanted me to see if you’re okay.”

“Come on in.”

The door creaked open and Anna—Grace peeked in. “Are you all right?”

Alexa wearily pushed to her feet and crossed to the doorway. “As ‘all right’ as I can be, I suppose. My mom just told me the hospital where she’s a nurse has to close. So she’s losing her job.”

Dismay widened Anna—Grace’s eyes. “I’m so sorry. Does she know what she’s going to do?”

“Not yet. She’s coming to Arborville for Thanksgiving, and she’s thinking about looking for a job around here.”

“It would be so nice for you to have her here!”

Alexa wished she could catch Anna—Grace’s enthusiasm. She moved toward the stairs, and Anna—Grace followed. Suddenly the other girl gasped. Alexa sent her a questioning look.

Anna—Grace said, “I don’t suppose Cousin Suzy would want to be a teacher instead of a nurse.”

Alexa stopped on the stairs and frowned. “A teacher?”

“Mm-hm. Clete came in while you were upstairs and told Aunt Abigail the teacher from Arborville received approval to be published to a man from Weaverly, and they want to marry at the end of February. Apparently he’s a widower with two small children and doesn’t want a long courtship. So Clete and some others are searching for a new teacher to finish the term.”

“Mom has a nursing license, but she doesn’t have a teaching certificate.”

Anna—Grace shook her head. “She wouldn’t need one for the church-run school. The rules are different. At least it would be a job right here in Arborville.”

As much as Alexa enjoyed working at the grade-school cafeteria, Mom had never envied her position. “I don’t think she’d be interested.”

“Oh. Well.” Anna—Grace shrugged, her smile intact. “I’m sure the right person will come along for the school.” She squeezed Alexa’s arm. “And I’ll pray your mom finds a nursing position. Without a husband to provide for her, she must be worried about how she’ll support herself.”

Unexpectedly, defensiveness swelled. “Mom isn’t a worrier. She
trusts
.”

Anna—Grace’s smile turned tender. “You have a mother of strong faith. Like mine. My mom isn’t a worrier, either, and she taught me to give my concerns to the Lord rather than fretting.” Her fingers tightened once more on Alexa’s arm and then slipped away. “We’re lucky, aren’t we?”

Lucky? Alexa was jolted as she processed the sweetly worded question. Before she could find an answer, Anna—Grace hurried down the stairs and around the corner. Alexa heard her call, “She’s okay, Aunt Abigail. She’s coming down.”

Alexa stepped from the staircase to the living room and came nose to chest with Briley. She jerked backward so quickly she almost lost her footing. He reached for her, but she grabbed the piano and kept herself upright.

She glared at him. “You nearly knocked me down.”

“I’m sorry.” The congenial big brother of last night had disappeared. In its place stood a storm cloud.

Alexa shivered. “Excuse me.” She started to step around him, but he held out his hand. She froze in place.

“We need to talk.” He kept his voice to a murmur, loud enough for only her ears.

She flicked a look toward the dining room, but Grandmother had her head turned away, conversing with Anna—Grace. She gave Briley a scowl. “I talked enough last night. I don’t have anything else to say.”

“Well, I do.” His tone developed a bite. “When you’ve finished the breakfast cleanup, meet me in the barn. We can talk privately out there.”

She didn’t want to meet with him. But she would. Because somehow she had to convince him to keep her secret. Mom had already lost her beau, her daughter, and her job. She couldn’t lose her freedom, too.

Briley

Briley paced back and forth across the hard-packed dirt floor, scuffing up bits of straw and coating the toes of his shoes with fine, powdery dust. After wrestling with himself all night, he knew what he wanted to say to Alexa. He knew what he
had
to say. He also knew it would hurt her, make her angry, and ruin the friendship they’d formed. Her feelings shouldn’t matter. He’d be back in Chicago soon, would never see her again, but it bothered him more than he cared to admit to leave on a sour note. Especially after her grandmother had given that flowery little speech about the “good” he’d done for the people in town.

He’d grown to admire Mrs. Z. She wasn’t afraid to speak her mind, and she cared about her kids. She reminded him of Aunt Myrt. Without warning his former foster mother’s voice crept from the recesses of his mind.
“Every
man has two equal abilities, to build up or to tear down. The challenge lies in knowing which is the right choice.”
As a teenager he’d rolled his eyes and inwardly called her old-fashioned. But now he understood the wisdom of her words. Telling the story Len expected would build himself up as a reporter, but it would tear down the integrity of the faith-based group of people he’d come to know and respect. Which was the better choice?

Another of Aunt Myrt’s pieces of advice whispered to him.
“When you need answers, Briley Ray, there is One who knows all and who will never lead you astray. Talk to Him.”
Briley groaned and slapped his hand to the sturdy beam rising from the center of the barn floor. Aunt Myrt knew God well enough to talk to Him. So did the Mennonites in Arborville. But he didn’t. He’d never taken the time to get to know God. Had never
wanted
to know Him. The title believers used for God—Father—had always tripped him up. His father, and the pseudofathers his mother had brought into their apartment, were never trustworthy or admirable or loving. So he’d pushed Aunt Myrt’s Father aside, too. Why would God help him now? This decision was his and his alone.