A Sister's Secret (8 page)

“Let’s get off the main road and head into the woods,” Cleon said, nodding toward a path on the right. “I think this leads to the pond near the Wengerds’ place.”

Grace pushed her bike off the shoulder of the road and onto the wide dirt path, deciding to wait until she was walking by his side before she spoke again. “Uh ... Cleon, there’s something I want to talk to you about.”

His eyebrows drew together. “You look so serious. Is there something wrong? Are you having second thoughts about marrying me?”

Grace moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue and halted her bike. This was going to be harder than she thought. “I’m not having second thoughts, but I think you should know that—”

“Hey, what are you two doing out here?”

Grace whirled around at the sound of her sister’s voice. “Ruth, you scared me!”

Sadie chuckled. “I can tell she did. Your eyes are huge as buggy wheels.”

“I—I just didn’t expect to see either of you here,” Grace stammered. It was a good thing she hadn’t revealed her secret to Cleon. What if Ruth and Sadie had overheard their conversation? The last thing she needed was Sadie knowing anything about her personal business, because she tended to be a blabbermouth.

“Sadie and I cut through the woods and spent some time at the pond,” Ruth said. “It’s beautiful there this time of the year.” She nodded at Grace. “Is that where you two are headed?”

“Jah,” Cleon spoke up. “We were riding on the shoulder of the road but decided to walk our bikes awhile.”

Ruth glanced at the diminishing sun filtering through the trees. “It’ll be getting dark soon, so I wouldn’t stay too long if I were you.”

“She’s got a point,” Cleon said. “Maybe we should head back before we lose our daylight.”

“Okay.” Grace felt a mixture of relief and disappointment. If they headed for home now, and Ruth and Sadie tagged along, she wouldn’t be able to tell Cleon what was on her mind. Still, the girls coming along when they did might have been a good thing, especially if Cleon’s response had been negative. Maybe it would be best to wait and tell Cleon sometime after he got back from Montana. That would give her another whole week to think it through and decide the best way to word things to him.

Chapter 8

“Sure were a lot of folks missing from church today,” Mom said as she walked toward the house beside Grace, with Ruth, Martha, and Dad following. “Martin Gingerich, Sadie Esh, and Abe Wengerd were sick, I understand.”

“Luke was out with the flu,” Ruth put in.

“Leastways that’s what his mamm said.” Dad grunted. “Truth be told, he was probably lazing in bed because I worked him so hard last week after he wrecked that set of cabinets that was supposed to be for Ella Bates’s birthday. Steven was hoppin’ mad about that, and he said from now on he won’t be giving me any more business.”

“I’m sure tired this afternoon,” Mom said, making no reference to Dad’s problems at work, which he’d already told them about.

He yawned noisily. “Jah, me, too.
Ich bin mied wie en hund.
”

“If you’re as tired as a dog,” Martha put in, “you’re very tired indeed. I’m going out to the barn to check on Heidi and her pups as soon as I change out of my church clothes.”

Grace couldn’t help but smile at her sister’s exuberance. It seemed that all Martha talked about anymore were those dogs of hers.

“You can spend the rest of the day in the barn with your hundlin if you want to,” Dad said, “but I’m gonna take a nap.”

Mom nodded. “I think I’d better take one, too.”

As they stepped onto the back porch, Grace noticed that the door hung slightly open. Dad must have noticed it too, for he turned and gave them a curious stare. “Which of you was the last one out the door this morning? And how come you didn’t close it?”

“It wasn’t me,” Grace was quick to say.

Ruth shook her head. “Nor me.”

“I may have been the last one out,” Martha admitted, “but I’m sure I didn’t leave the door open.”

“Well, someone did.” Dad pushed the door fully open and entered the house, grumbling about all the flies that had probably gotten in.

Grace and her sisters stopped in the hallway, but Mom had already entered the kitchen. “Someone’s been in here,” she shouted. “Ach! They’ve made such a mess!”

The others rushed into the kitchen. Mom stood in the midst of chaos—pots and pans littered the floor, chairs were overturned, and several items of food from the refrigerator lay in the middle of the table.

They stood for several seconds in stunned silence. Then Dad groaned and shook his head. “Weren’t no critter that sneaked into the house and did all this. Had to be done by human hands—that’s for certain sure.” He turned on his heels with a huff.

“Where are you going?” Mom called with a panicked expression.

“To check out the rest of the place, what do you think?”

She rushed to his side. “If whoever did this is still in the house, then what?”

“If he is, then we’ll have ourselves a little heart-to-heart talk.”

Martha bent down and picked up a rolling pin from the floor. “Maybe I’d better go with you.”

Mom moved like she was going to stop Martha, but Grace got to her first. “Just what do you think you’re doing?” She grabbed the rolling pin and placed it on the counter. “I hope you’re not considering using that as a weapon.”

“I—I wasn’t going to hit anyone, just scare ’em a bit is all.”

Dad pointed to the floor. “You’d better stay here and help your mamm clean up while I look through the other rooms.” He rushed out of the kitchen before anyone could argue the point.

Grace’s hand trembled as she bent to retrieve one of her mother’s frying pans.
Who could have done this, and why would they do such a thing?

“Never in all the years your daed and I have been married has anything like this ever happened to us,” Mom said in a shaky voice.

“I—I wonder if anything’s been stolen.” Ruth’s dark eyes were huge, and her face had turned chalky white, making her brunette hair appear even darker.

“I hope not,” Mom said, “but we need to remember that nothing we own is really ours. It’s all on loan from God.”

Grace moved closer to the hallway door and craned her neck. She couldn’t see anything, but she could hear her father’s footsteps as he moved through the living room. “Dad, are you all right?”

“I’m fine. Just checking things out in here.”

“Has that room been vandalized, too?”

He stepped into the hall and shook his head. “Nothing appears to have been disturbed in the living room. Next, I’m going to check upstairs.”

Grace gripped the edge of the door and clenched her teeth.
What if someone’s been in my room? What if they went through my things? What if...

“I hope everything’s okay upstairs,” Mom said, breaking into Grace’s disturbing thoughts. “I wish your daed had let one of us go with him.”

“I’m sure he’ll be down soon.” Ruth managed a weak smile.

It seemed obvious to Grace that they all felt uneasy about this break-in, and she wouldn’t rest easy until she knew if anything had been taken from her room.

“I’ll be right back,” Martha said, scooting toward the back door.

“Where are you going?” Mom called to her.

“To the barn to check on my dogs.” Martha’s shoulders lifted, and her breath came out in little spurts. “I want to be sure they’re okay.”

“Not without your daed, you’re not. Whoever broke into the house could be hiding in the barn.” Mom shook her head firmly.

Martha raised her chin as if she might argue, but Grace knew her determined little sister would not get her way on this matter.

“We must be patient and wait for Dad,” Ruth said, reaching for the jar of dill pickles that had been dumped on the table.

When Grace heard her father’s heavy footsteps clomping around upstairs, she glanced into the hallway again.

“Let’s try to remain calm and wait and see what he discovers upstairs,” Mom said as she wet a dishrag at the kitchen sink and began to wash off the table.

For the next few minutes, Grace and her mother and sisters bustled around the kitchen, picking things up and cleaning off the table. They were nearly finished when Dad showed up again, squinting his dark eyes and scratching the side of his head.

“What’s wrong, Roman?” Mom asked, stepping up to him. “Was everything all right upstairs?”

“There’s nobody there, and nothing was disturbed in any of the rooms except for Grace’s.”

“How odd.” Mom’s forehead wrinkled. “If they messed up one room, you’d think they would have done the same to the others.”

“Maybe Heidi or Fritz sensed something was amiss and started barking, scaring anyone off before they could do more damage,” Martha suggested.

“That could be,” Dad agreed as he reached up to rub the bridge of his nose. “Or maybe it was done randomly, with no rhyme or reason as to which rooms got messed.”

Grace stood for several seconds, trying to piece everything together. With a little gasp, she dashed from the room.

***

“Would you like me to run down to the phone shed and call the sheriff’s office?” Martha asked her father.

“I’ll go with her,” Ruth put in.

Firmly, he shook his head. “We won’t involve the sheriff, and I wouldn’t press charges even if he was notified and found the person who made this mess.”

“I know that, but—”

“I’m sure it was just some pranksters—probably the same ones who turned over those outhouses near Kidron last week.”

“So we just allow them to get away with this?” Martha motioned to the remaining items on the table. “I think they need to be stopped, or else they might do the same thing to other folks.”

Mom touched Dad’s arm. “Our daughter has a point. Maybe we should let the sheriff know about this.”

“We’ll do what others in our community have done whenever the rowdy English kids have played their pranks. We’ll look the other way, turn the other cheek, forgive, and forget.” Dad sighed. “Now let’s get on with the business of living and forget this ever happened.”

Martha made a sweeping gesture with her hand. “How can we forget it happened when our kitchen is such a mess and Grace is upstairs trying to deal with whatever they did to her room?” She moaned. “This isn’t right. It’s not right at all.”

“We can forget it happened by making the choice to put it out of our minds. That’s how we’ll deal with it.” Dad folded his arms in a stubborn pose.

“Do you think Grace is going to forget that a stranger came into her room while we were at church?” Martha nodded toward the door leading to the upstairs.

Before Dad had a chance to answer, Ruth spoke up. “I’m going to see how she’s doing. No doubt, she’ll need some help cleaning up the mess.”

***

Grace entered her room and skidded to a stop in front of the bed. Articles of clothing were strewn everywhere—white kapps, choring aprons, a pair of black sneakers, and some dresses that had been torn into shreds.

Her heart thudded. Her hands sweat. Her knees nearly buckled. With a sense of dread, she made her way over to the cedar chest at the foot of the bed and flipped open the lid, dipping both hands deep inside and feeling around to see if anything was missing. When Grace’s fingers touched the scrapbook she’d kept hidden away, and then she discovered that her faceless doll was still there, she breathed a sigh of relief.

“Are you all right? Has anything been stolen?”

Grace slammed the lid shut and spun around. “Ruth! I didn’t hear you come in.”

“I came up to see if there was anything I could do to help.” Ruth stepped forward and pointed to the mess on Grace’s bed. “Oh, sister, I’m so sorry. I can’t understand why anyone would do such a thing. It makes no sense why they would mess up the kitchen and your room yet not bother with any of ours.”

“I—I don’t understand it, either, but to my knowledge, nothing was taken.” Grace stood on trembling legs and clenched her teeth, trying to stop the flow of tears.

“Maybe Martha’s right about either Heidi or Fritz hearing the intruder and scaring him off before he had time to ransack the other rooms.” Ruth glanced around. “It does seem odd that nothing is missing, though.”

Before Grace could respond, Martha rushed into the room, her face flushed and her eyes wide with obvious concern. “Did they break anything? Have any of your things been stolen?”

“Not that I can tell.” Grace pointed to her bed. “They threw some of my clothes on the bed and tore up a couple of my dresses.”

“Look over there!” Martha pointed to the desk on the other side of the room. “They emptied everything out of the drawers onto the floor. Looks like some of your papers have been shredded, too.”

Grace pivoted. She’d been so concerned about the things in her cedar chest that she hadn’t even noticed the desk. Tears burned her eyes, and she nearly choked on the lump lodged in her throat. Who could have done this? Who could hate her enough to rummage through her room and make such a mess?

She froze as an image of Gary Walker popped into her head. Could he be responsible for this? He’d said he would get even with her someday for breaking up with him. Had he finally made good on his threat?