When Grace Sings (9 page)

Her young aunt’s concern warmed Alexa. She smiled. “Okay. Thanks.”

Still holding her arm, she ushered Alexa up the hallway. “Don’t worry. You just keep praying for God to bring the right man into your life, and when He does, you’ll know it. And you’ll be ready.”

Alexa hoped so.

Briley

Briley had thought Saturday dragged long, but it passed in a flash compared to Sunday. Next week he’d definitely go to service to use up an hour or two of the day. Even after he’d driven to Wichita and killed an hour at a discount store, where he bought the cheapest flat-screen television and DVD player on the shelves as well as a handful of action flicks, and grabbed lunch at a steak house, the late afternoon and evening still stretched in front of him.

To fill some time he drove slowly up and down the streets of Arborville—all fourteen of them—and shot photographs out his open car window. Of businesses, houses, two cats curled together under a bush, kids playing stickball, an elderly couple sitting on a porch swing with a colorful knitted blanket draped over their laps … Nothing spectacular, but images that would help him paint a picture of the community as a whole. Arborville didn’t look anything like Chicago.

He’d already driven the county roads outside of town yesterday, taking pictures of farmsteads, cows, windmills, more cows, old-fashioned farm implements waiting at the edges of pastures, and—by compliments of his telephoto lens—even a half-dozen pretty good images of Alexa standing on the porch of a sorry-looking house with the younger Brungardt. Chilled by the cold air, he’d rolled up his window between photographs. But today was pleasant, warm enough to leave his window down. Kansas sure had changeable weather.

Even though he felt as if he’d already seen it all, he aimed his vehicle for the highway. Anything to use up the remaining couple of hours before sunset. A half mile out of town he came upon a man and boy walking along the road. Fishing poles bounced on their shoulders. Judging by their empty hands, he assumed the pair’s expedition had failed, but they didn’t look unhappy. The boy appeared to be jabbering as the man listened with his head slightly tipped, an indulgent grin curving his mouth.

Something about the way they sauntered side by side, their clothes rumpled and mud-stained but their bearing relaxed and content, appealed to him, and he snatched up his camera to catch a photo. He slowed to a snail’s crawl as he eased alongside them, unobtrusively lifting his camera. They both turned in his direction, and the boy raised his hand in an exuberant wave. Briley pressed the shutter button and captured the bright smiles and friendly wave perfectly.

He dropped the camera on the passenger seat and waved in return. Before he could drive past them, the man held out his arm in a silent bid for Briley to stop. According to his research, the Amish were squeamish about having their faces photographed, and he’d honored their preference, but this man and boy weren’t wearing Amish clothes. Hopefully they wouldn’t ask him to delete the photo. He happened to like it even if it didn’t prove the dirt Len had sent him to uncover.

Briley braked and put the car in Park. “Yeah? What can I do for you?”

The boy scampered over, his tennis shoes stirring dust, and the man ambled more slowly. In unison they slipped the poles from their shoulders and held them upright with the handles braced on the ground, the way a farmer might hold a pitchfork. With their matching short-cropped brown hair and brown eyes, they looked like a set of bookends. Except for one being much taller.

The man stuck out his hand. “I just wanted to introduce myself. I’m Paul Aldrich. This is my son, Danny.”

Briley shook the man’s hand, and then the boy pushed forward to shake
hands, too. A fishy smell clung to them. Maybe they’d managed to snag a fish or two after all. Or at least had sat on a dead one. “Nice to meet you. I’m Briley Forrester.”

“Are you the reporter who’s staying out at the Zimmermans’? In Alexa’s cottage?” Danny nearly danced in place, energy pulsating from his wiry body.

Briley grinned. Two days in town and already well known. He’d make a note of this exchange. “That’s right.”

Danny jabbed his thumb at his father. “Me an’ Dad are the ones who built it. We built the kitchen and the bathrooms and the ramps for Mrs. Zimmerman’s house, too. That’s what we do—we build things.”

A chuckle threatened, but Briley managed to contain it. He doubted this kid did much to help, but it was cute the way he took credit. Pretty decent of the dad to let him think he’d helped instead of setting him straight. “Well, I’d say you and your dad did a good job.”

“Yeah. Alexa let me and my friend Jeremy come over and put the bed in the cottage up and down. Dad says it’s called a Murphy bed, whatever that means. It’s the best bed
ever
.” The boy’s gaze swept from one bumper of Briley’s car to the other. “And this is the best car ever. I’d sure like to take a ride in it sometime.”

“Danny …” Aldrich shook his head, frowning slightly. “Don’t be pushy. It’s rude.”

Danny shrugged sheepishly. “Was I being pushy?”

Briley let his laugh roll. The boy might be pushy, but he wasn’t obnoxious about it. Not the way Briley had been as a kid, trying to steal attention wherever and however he could. He kind of liked Danny. Even though he smelled like dead fish. “Don’t worry about it. Since I’ll be in Arborville for a while, we ought to be able to find time for you to take a ride in the Camaro.”

Actually, making friends with the boy could help with his article. He could press Danny for authentic feedback about living the simplistic lifestyle. Kids were less likely to mask their thoughts and feelings. Briley pinched his chin, pretending to think deeply. “In fact, if your dad could hold those poles
out the window, since they’re too long for my trunk, I could give you fellows a ride to your house right now. Whaddaya think about that?”

Danny turned his eager face to his dad. “Can we, Dad? Huh? Huh?”

Aldrich looked at Briley, his expression doubtful. “You’d have to take us to town, and you seem to be leaving it. Weren’t you heading somewhere?”

“Just nosing around. Getting familiar with the area.”

The man nodded as if the explanation made sense.

“I did some exploring yesterday, but I didn’t see a lake.” Briley nodded toward the poles. “Maybe you could show me where it is. In case I’d like to do some fishing.”

“It’s not a lake. Just a pond,” Danny said.

Aldrich added, “And it’s on private property, but the Heidebrechts have always let people from town come out and drop a line. They won’t mind us taking you out there if you’re really interested.”

Briley had never experienced a desire to drop a line. Not even from one of the boats that left the piers in Chicago on daylong fishing expeditions. Fishing was an activity shared by fathers and sons. He’d never known a real father, and he had no desire to raise a son. But if the townsfolk frequented the pond, he ought to take a few pictures of it. “I’d like to see it.”

“It’s not far, but you’ll have to drive a pretty rough road.”

“I’ll go slow.”

“And we’re a little, er, ripe from our afternoon of catching and releasing.”

Ripe was an understatement. “I’ll leave the windows down. The wind ought to chase the smell right back out again.” It’d also bring in a lot of dust, but he’d deal with it.

Danny apparently lost patience with the delays. He shoved his pole at his father. “C’mon, Dad. Let’s go!” He darted to the passenger side and opened the door.

Aldrich stood for a moment with both poles in his hands, looking uncertain. But then he shrugged, offered a grin, and followed his son. Danny clambered into the backseat, which was little more than a narrow bench. But he
didn’t seem to mind. He plopped in the middle, rested his elbows on his knees, and leaned over the console, his smile broad. It tickled Briley to please the kid so much.

Aldrich had some trouble juggling the poles and the door, but he managed to settle himself in the seat and extend his arm out the window with the poles held away from the car. Briley would be sure to drive slowly so those poles wouldn’t bounce against the sides of his Camaro. He doubted there was anyone in Arborville who’d know how to buff out scratches.

Briley flicked a grin at Danny as he shifted into first gear. “All right, navigator, tell me where to go.”

Sommerfeld

Anna—Grace

Anna—Grace loved the time of fellowship after worship on Sunday, but she also liked the time when the dishes were done, the guests had departed, and she could savor a few precious hours with Steven. The rest of the week their time together was either with a group of friends or taken in such short snatches it left her dissatisfied. Her parents still sat across the room, actively participating in the conversation, but she wouldn’t complain. Sitting beside Steven, holding his hand, not having to share him with a dozen others was enough to make her happy.

After their company left, Mom had sent Sunny to look at picture books in her bed. In the quiet that followed, it seemed the house relaxed beneath a blanket of calm. Then Dad, as if he’d been waiting for the opportunity, opened a floodgate of questions concerning Steven’s plans for the future.

Steven answered all of them, his tone respectful. When Mom requested a description of the property in Arborville, Steven provided an overview of the acreage and all it contained. “The buildings, including the house, are pretty run-down and will take some work. But it’s a good piece of land.” He offered a
slight shrug as he finished his explanation and shifted his gaze from Mom and Dad to Anna—Grace. “I should be able to make a decent living, and we should be … happy there.”

Anna—Grace had a hard time remaining on the sofa. Listening to Steven tell about what would be
their
land, house, and outbuildings—even though, in his typical understated manner, his descriptions were short on details—built a nearly uncontrollable eagerness to see it for herself. She gave his hand a squeeze in lieu of jumping up and whirling in excitement.

Dad leaned forward slightly, his brow puckered into a mild scowl. “So it’s settled then? You’re going to take over the farm and make your home in Arborville?”

Steven’s fingers twitched. “That’s right.” He drew in a breath and squared his shoulders. “I’ll probably move by the end of the month.”

Anna—Grace dropped her jaw. “So soon?”

He grimaced. “As I said, there’s a lot of work to be done.”

The thought of Steven moving away, of not seeing him every week, was a knife in her heart. She missed him already and he hadn’t even left. “Why can’t we work on it together?”

“My dad says I need to have it finished before I take you to live there. Dad talked to the carpenter who did the work on your great-aunt’s house, and—”

“Paul Aldrich?” Mother’s query blasted out on a shrill note of panic.

Anna—Grace looked up in surprise.

Steven nodded. “That’s right.”

Mom and Dad exchanged a grim look, and Mom’s face paled.

Apprehension teased Anna—Grace, raising the fine hairs on her neck. “What’s wrong with Paul Aldrich?”

“Nothing.” Dad sat back in his chair, as if forcing himself to relax. “He and my cousin Suzy were good friends when they were growing up. We even thought they might choose to marry. But they didn’t.”

Steven went on, speaking to Anna—Grace but sending occasional sidelong glances across the room to Mom and Dad. “Mr. Aldrich said he could spend
early November at the house, updating the kitchen and bathroom, and he would ask the fellowship about arranging a working at the property. The men would help paint the house, reshingle the roof, and repair the barn. The other things that need doing inside—painting, wallpapering, lots of cleanup—I can handle on my own. Then the house will be ready for us when we get married.”

Married
 … What wonderful notions the word inspired. The books her friends checked out from the library in McPherson often featured women with careers. Even a few women in Sommerfeld had businesses. But all Anna—Grace wanted was to manage her own household, the same way Mom had. Anna—Grace released an airy sigh. “I wish I could go with you and help, too.”