Simple Secrets (The Harmony Series 1) (24 page)

“I know that.”

My dad’s stern voice didn’t welcome any further challenge. But with what was at stake, I took a chance and pressed on. “Someone told me he was a little too friendly with the girls in Harmony. For you to hit him, he must have made a move on Mom.”

My dad’s exasperated sigh echoed loudly through the receiver. “Why in the world is this important to you? If Jacob is gone, who cares what he did or didn’t do?”

If I could tell my father what Glick had done to Emily Mueller, he’d probably tell me whatever I wanted to know. But I couldn’t do that. “Look, I’m just interested, that’s all. Sam’s been showing me around town, and I’m learning all kinds of things about Harmony—past and present. Jacob Glick is just one of the people whose name came up. Why are you so defensive?”

He sighed again. “I don’t know. Jacob is a part of the past I’d like to forget. I suppose if it’s important to you, I can try to remember whatever I can. I haven’t thought about the man in over thirty years.”

“Well, it’s not
important
really. I’m just curious.”

“Okay, okay. He was the maintenance man for our church, but he spent most of his time skulking around town, following young girls, and being a general nuisance. He bothered your mother on more than one occasion, even though he knew we were seeing each other.” He paused for a moment as if gathering his thoughts. “There were rumors that he’d been extremely inappropriate. You know, actually grabbing some of the ladies in town. I have no idea if that’s true. My parents didn’t discuss unpleasant things in front of my brother and me, so what I know is only through rumors.”

“But why did you get in a fight with him?”

“The night before your mother and I left Harmony, we were supposed to meet in a small clearing in the trees behind my house. Even though our parents and a few other people knew we were going away to get married, we didn’t want too many people involved. If Bishop Angstadt found out, he would have exerted great pressure on our families to stop us. When I arrived at the spot where I was to meet your mother, I found Jacob hiding behind a tree, watching her. He’d been bothering her for months. She’d had to rebuff him more than once. I’d warned him to stay away from her. When I confronted him, he told us he knew what we were planning and he intended to tell Angstadt. I guess everything just boiled up inside me. I hauled off and slugged him so hard I bruised my knuckles.”

“Your—your knuckles? You hit him with your fist?”

He snorted. “Of course I did. What did you think I’d hit him with?”

“Not a rock,” I mumbled to myself, not realizing my father could hear me. He hadn’t hit him with a rock at all. That meant...

“A rock?” Dad said. “Of course not. I only wanted to stop him from bothering Beverly. I wasn’t trying to kill him, Gracie. Goodness gracious. You sure get some funny ideas. Must be all that television...”

“Okay, Dad. I get it.” I didn’t have time for another lecture on the evils of television. Boy, he and Abel were like twins when it came to that subject.

“All right,” he said. “I told you about Jacob Glick. Now, who’s Sam?”

I launched into a narrative about Sam and Sweetie, leaving out that I was staying with them.

“You say this Sweetie person has been in Harmony for a while?” He sounded puzzled. “I don’t remember anyone with that name. It’s certainly not a name I’d likely forget.”

“Her real name is Myrtle, Dad. Myrtle Goodrich.”

“Oh my goodness gracious. Myrtle Goodrich. Wow. She’s still there? I figured she’d left after her father passed away.”

I told him about the farm and the house she’d renovated. I also explained that she’d taken Sam in when he was a boy.

“Well, that’s very interesting,” he said softly. “I always felt so sorry for Myrtle. I didn’t really know her very well, but the whole town was aware of her plight. I’m really happy to hear she’s made something of herself and overcome her past.” I heard him move the phone away from his mouth and say something I couldn’t make out. Then he laughed into the receiver. “Honey, your mother is pestering me to give her the phone. I’m going to hand you over. You call us back again in a couple of days, okay?”

“Okay, Dad. I love you.”

“I love you, too, Snicklefritz.”

I talked to my mom for another ten minutes before we finally hung up. I put the receiver down and stared at the phone for quite some time, trying to turn over the information I’d gotten from my dad. He’d hit Glick with his fist. My father hadn’t killed Glick at all—on purpose or accidentally. I felt as if a major weight had been lifted off me. I started to get up to find Sam, when the door to the study swung open and he came inside.

“Are you finished?” he asked.

I nodded and motioned to him to close the door. He latched it and came over, sitting down in a chair near the desk. I told him everything I’d learned from my father.

“So you see,” I said when I’d finished, “my father not only doesn’t know Glick is dead, but he couldn’t possibly have killed him. Dad didn’t hit him with a rock, Sam. Someone else did that. Someone else killed Jacob Glick.”

Sam studied me for a moment. “And you believe your father told you the truth?”

I nodded. “I know him better than I know myself. I’m convinced of it.”

He shrugged. “That’s good enough for me.” He sat forward in the chair and put his head in his hands. “Glick never made it from the spot where your father hit him. So if we can figure out who met Glick in the clearing after your father and mother left and before Ben found him, we’ve got our murderer.” He straightened up and frowned at me, his face creased with concern. “Since we know your father didn’t accidentally kill Glick, I think the person who hit him with that rock probably intended to kill him, Grace. They probably saw your dad hit him—and then when your parents left, they picked up a rock and finished him off. I suspect Glick was a little woozy after being punched in the face. Most likely, that made it much easier to approach him.”

“That makes sense,” I said, thinking it over. “The problem is that no one we’ve talked to actually saw who hit him. I’m beginning to think our only chance at finding the truth is to discover the identity of the person who took my letter and planted Ruth’s vase at Benjamin’s. That person must be the real killer.”

Without warning, a side door to the library opened and Sweetie stepped in, holding something in her hand. “I can’t help you with Ruth’s vase, and I can’t help you figger out who killed that stinkin’ varmit Jacob Glick. But I can tell you exactly who stole your letter.” She walked over and slammed the papers she held in her hand onto the desktop right in front of me. “It was me. I took your blasted letter.”

“I had no intention of ever talkin’ ’bout this. I’d hoped it was dead and buried ... just like that miserable old letch Jacob Glick.”

Sam and I sat quietly at the kitchen table. Sweetie had refused to explain her surprising admission until she was ready. She’d ordered us into the kitchen where we sat waiting while she scooped out three bowls of fruit salad and shoved them in front of us. The salad looked and smelled delicious, but my appetite had vanished. From the somber expression on Sam’s face, it was evident he felt the same way.

After her comment, Sweetie stared at me as if I might want to respond, but for the life of me, I couldn’t think of a single thing to say. Her shocking revelation seemed to have affected my ability to voice anything coherent, so I simply nodded. She took it as a sign to continue.

“I barely knew Jacob. I only seen him when I went to town. Didn’t go to that church where he worked or nothin’, so there weren’t much call for me to run into him.” She sighed and shook her head. “Whenever I did cross his path, that man always gave me the willies. He had a look in his eyes that was ... well,
lustful
is the best word I can come up with. I tried to keep my distance from him. My daddy told me not to ever give him a reason to approach me.” Her features softened, and for just a moment I saw a quick flash of the young woman I’d seen in the pictures on the mantel. But instantly her expression hardened, and Sweetie was back.

“But ... but what does this have to do with why you took Grace’s letter?” Sam’s harsh tone caused his aunt to glower at him.

“I’ll get to that, boy. You need to hush up and let me tell the story my way. It’s the only way you’re gonna get it. You understand?”

“Whatever.” Sam shrugged, then jabbed a forkful of salad and shoved it into his mouth.

“Anyways,” she continued, “I kept to my daddy’s advice, but every time I seen Jacob in town, he’d watch me with those sharp, beady eyes of his. After a while I got kinda used to it. And then my daddy had his accident. I didn’t make it to town much ’cause I was takin’ care of him after he came back home.” She stared at the tablecloth as if she could see the past woven into its design. “Several of the nearby farmers helped me, tryin’ to take care of our fields. Some folks from town came with food and medical supplies.” Her voice caught. “Your grandma and grandpa were there for me almost every day, Gracie. Along with Levi and the Turnbauers. Good people. But then that Angstadt fellow started comin’ around. Not too often, but even a little of that man was too much for me. I always felt like he was checkin’ me out, you know? Pretending he wanted to help—but like he had another motive hidin’ behind his fake smile.”

She paused for a moment before she rose from her chair and grabbed the iced-tea pitcher from the counter. She refilled her glass and Sam’s. I hadn’t even touched mine. When she finished, she sat back down with a grunt.

“Well, Daddy just got worse and worse. The doc from Council Grove came out to check on him. He’s the one who told me Daddy’s bones hadn’t set quite right. Unless he had an operation to fix them proper, he could die. Had to do with the way the blood flowed through his body. I didn’t have no money, and I couldn’t figger out a way to get it quick enough. I thought about sellin’ the farm, but that would take time—time Daddy didn’t have.”

“We know about the deal Angstadt offered you,” I said gently. “He’d give you the money for the operation if you’d marry Jacob Glick.”

Sweetie’s eyes grew wide. “Now how in tarnation did you hear about that?”

I started at the beginning, from reading the letter, to deciding to tell Sam the truth. I finished with the conversation Emily had overheard between Glick and Angstadt when she was young. The only thing I left out was Glick’s awful attack on Emily.

“My, my. You two have been busy little beavers, ain’t ya?” The touch of amusement in her tone seemed in stark contrast to the seriousness of the situation. She leaned back in her chair, folded her arms, and stared at us. “So you want to prove that Daniel Temple didn’t kill Jacob.” She snorted. “Shoot, I coulda told you that. Daniel was one of the nicest boys I ever met. He wouldn’t harm a hair on no one’s head. Not even that low-life Jacob’s.” She shook her head slowly. “No, Daniel didn’t kill Jacob.”

“Do you know who did?” Sam asked solemnly.

To our amazement, Sweetie laughed. “Now boy, set your mind to rest. I didn’t kill Jacob. If ’n I had, wouldn’t nobody ever find his body, and all this trouble wouldn’t be happenin’ now.” She reached over and touched Sam’s hand. “No, I didn’t kill that varmint, boy, and I don’t know who did. Wish I’d seen it though. I’d like to help Daniel out. That boy was always nice to me. Always respectful. After Daddy got sick, he’d come with his parents and work on my farm until he was about ready to drop. Never asked for nothin’. Willin’ to do anything he could to help. Him and his brother, Benny. They was both special.”

I was beginning to get exasperated. Sweetie was taking her own sweet time and still hadn’t explained why she took my letter. I tried to think of a way to hurry her along.

“Guess I better get to what happened that night and why I snuck in and took that letter,” she said as if she’d recognized my growing frustration.

I settled back in my chair and waited. Hopefully, we were rounding third base and heading toward home. My stomach growled lightly, and I picked up my fork. The first taste of Sweetie’s fresh fruit salad convinced me I could actually eat and listen at the same time.

“Angstadt came to our house two nights after the doctor told me Daddy needed that operation. He told me he would pay for it if I’d marry that snake in the grass Jacob. I was appalled and told him to get outta my house. I didn’t tell Daddy nothin’ about it. But in the next few days he started gettin’ worse and worse.” She sat forward in her chair and clasped her rough, work-worn hands together as if she were getting ready to pray. Her knuckles turned white, and the end of her fingers grew red with exertion. She stared at them instead of us. “I—I know what I’m about to say sounds awful, but I just couldn’t let my daddy suffer that way. I decided to take Angstadt up on his offer.” She looked up at us, her face a mask of pain. “There wasn’t nothin’ else I could think of to do. The idea of lettin’ that man ... well, let’s just say that I loved my daddy more than I loved my own life. It’s as simple as that. If either one of you ever loves someone that much, maybe you’ll understand.” Her expression hardened, and she set her jaw. “After Jacob died and then my daddy passed away, all I wanted was for the whole situation to fade away. I tried to put it out of my mind.” She looked at Sam, and the tightness in her face softened. “Then Sam came into my life. I vowed he would never find out that I’d almost sold myself to someone like Jacob Glick. I woulda done anything to keep my decision secret.” She sighed. “I didn’t want Sam to be ashamed of me.”

“So that’s why you took my letter?” I asked. “Because uncovering Glick’s death would bring all of this to light?”

“That’s a big part of it, Gracie girl. But there’s more.”

Again, I nodded at her to continue. Sam stared at his aunt as if he didn’t know her. I understood his shock at finding out Sweetie had kept secrets from him and had my letter all this time, but I was pretty sure some assurance from him would mean a lot to her right now. Her eyes kept flicking toward him, but the look on his face offered little encouragement.