Bygones (26 page)

“Then why do you think she’s here?” Albrecht’s tone turned derisive.

Hugo glanced at Henry. “As an answer to prayer.”

Henry looked at his feet, certain his face was glowing red.

“My wife, Joanna, her aunt Lisbeth Koeppler, and Henry Braun here have all prayed for years that Marie would return to this community. That she would be able to restore lost relationships. I think Marie came for that reason.”

Mumbled voices rose and fell. Henry couldn’t resist the urge to look at Marie’s family. All faces were stoic, their gazes downcast except for J.D., who stared straight ahead with his arms folded tightly across his chest.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Albrecht’s scowl deepened, his angry glare fierce. “You know as well as I do that nothing like this has ever happened in our community. But these two women arrive, and immediately there’s trouble.”

Ortmann turned in his seat to face Jacob and Hugo. “I agree with Jay. I believe that girl wants our things badly enough to take them.”

“No one saw Beth take anything,” Jacob said, raising his voice to be heard over the rumbles that rolled across the room. “No one has even seen the goods.” His gaze swept the room, silencing the murmurs. “I thought we came here to organize a community watch to prevent future burglaries, not form a trial and jury.”

“You’re being sassy, boy,” Albrecht growled.

Henry’s ire raised with Albrecht’s condemnation. With a silent prayer for strength, he pushed to his feet and put his arm around his
nephew. “Jacob has a right to speak his opinion, just as you do, Jay.” He spoke calmly. “And in this case, he’s right. We’re not accomplishing anything here with all this faultfinding. Let’s organize our watch and wait to see what happens.”

“And if the thief never shows again? What then?” Ortmann demanded.

“Then we’ve been successful,” Jacob said.

Albrecht threw his arms outward. “But we don’t get our things back!”

“Maybe not.” Henry looked around the room. “But I think we need to look at our motivations here.” His gaze flitted toward Albrecht. “Some folks here seem bent on revenge. But the Bible says vengeance belongs to the Lord.”

An uneasy silence fell over the gathered men. Albrecht’s face turned scarlet. He sat down abruptly, his mouth set in a grim line.

“Who brought paper?” Jacob asked.

Henry patted his shirt pocket. “I have a small pad and a pen.”

Jacob smiled at him. “Good. Uncle Henry, would you please write down the names of all the men in attendance?”

Henry flipped open the pad and jotted down the names. He looked up, pen poised. “Jay?” He waited until Albrecht lifted his head. “Would you like to schedule everyone’s time for watching?”

The man’s gaze narrowed, and for a moment Henry feared he would storm out of the room. But he gave a brusque nod. “Four-hour shifts?”

Several nods and mumbles came from the group.

Albrecht fired out time slots and called for volunteers. Henry carefully recorded the information. In the midst of the planning, he heard a shuffle along the side bench.

J.D. Koeppler stood, his sons and grandsons following suit. The entire Koeppler family filed out of the meetinghouse without
volunteering for a shift. Henry watched them go, his heart heavy. None of them had said a word in support of Marie throughout the entire meeting.

But then something else occurred to him. Neither had any of them condemned her.

T
his is nice.” Beth cupped her hands around her coffee mug and smiled across the table at her mother. “With all the hours you’ve been spending at the café, we don’t get much time together anymore. I’m glad we decided to leave the place closed all weekend.”

Marie’s throat tightened at her daughter’s words. She, too, had missed time with Beth. Lately, even when they were together, the tension made it difficult to enjoy Beth’s company. Last night, when Hugo discovered the car’s engine was warm—evidence that it had been driven recently—Marie approached Beth, intending to ask where she’d gone. But her daughter’s defiant attitude made her change her mind. Maybe a part of her feared knowing the answers to the questions that pressed her mind.

But this morning she saw no sign of yesterday’s defiance. Beth seemed relaxed, open, more like the girl she’d been back in Cheyenne. Marie’s heart rose with hope that what Joanna had said was true—Beth was merely experiencing growing pains and their relationship wouldn’t be irreparably damaged by their time in Sommerfeld.

“What should we do today?” Marie gave a cautious sip at her mug.

“How about packing our bags and taking a quick trip?” Beth’s
eyes danced. “If we left here in the next hour, we could be in Kansas City by midafternoon.”

Beth’s enthusiasm gave Marie’s heart a lift. “What would we do there?”

Beth shrugged. “Rent a room in a nice hotel, sit in a hot tub, watch television. . .something
normal
. Since the café won’t open again until Tuesday, we could stay clear through Monday. It’d be like a minivacation.”

“But I have service Sunday.” Marie was struck by two simultaneous emotions—surprise that attending service had become so important to her, and regret that her daughter’s enthusiasm immediately deflated.

Beth shook her head, her hair spilling across her shoulders. “Mom, I don’t get you. You’d blow an entire weekend away from here just to go to that little church?”

Marie lowered her head. She wished Beth understood the changes taking place in her heart. But she couldn’t quite comprehend it herself, let alone explain it to someone else. All she knew for sure was she didn’t want to miss service at the meetinghouse. Reaching her hand across the table, she touched Beth’s rigid arm.

“Honey, I don’t mean to disappoint you.”

Beth jumped up and moved stiffly to the stove, where she poured another cup of coffee. Leaning against the counter, she fixed her mother with a unwavering glare. “The last thing I expected when we came here was for our family to fall apart.”

A pang pierced Marie’s heart. For many years “family” had meant the two of them. But now it was so much more. Even if the rest of Marie’s family never came around, surely Beth would benefit from having Joanna and some of her cousins in her life. How could she help her see that?

“You aren’t the same mother I’ve had for twenty years. You
dress different—I can’t remember the last time you wore a pair of jeans. You talk different—bringing God and prayers into nearly every conversation. And you act different—all quiet and accepting instead of standing up for yourself. I don’t feel like I even know you anymore!”

Marie tipped her head, narrowing her gaze as she reflected on Beth’s statement. “I suppose I have made some changes since we arrived. Being here has helped me remember the teachings of my childhood and how important they were to me. They’ve become important to me again. I hope the changes aren’t bad ones.” She spoke slowly, thinking carefully as she formed words. “But I’ve seen you change, too. You’ve become resentful, snappy, and. . .sneaky.”

Beth jerked upright, her brow creasing sharply.

Marie knew she’d struck a nerve. She proceeded with caution. “What do you do while I’m at the café all day?” Although she kept her tone soft and noncombatant, Beth’s face blazed pink.

“Here we go again. Crazy Beth is robbing everybody blind.”

“If it isn’t true, why not prove them wrong? What are you trying to hide?”

Beth shifted her gaze to the side, the muscles in her jaw twitching. Although Marie waited for several moments, Beth didn’t answer.

Marie released a sigh. “It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me.”

Beth swung back, flinging one arm wide. “See? That’s exactly what I mean! Back home, if I tried to keep something from you, you’d bug me until I caved in.”

“You want me to bug you?”

“No.”

“Then what do you want?”

Beth stared, her body angled forward as if poised for a fight. “I want us to go back to how we were before. You and me against the world. Maybe it wasn’t perfect, but it was secure.”

Marie shook her head. “Sweetheart, I love you, and I always will. You’re my daughter—my precious gift.” Her throat went tight as love filled her so completely she ached. “But I don’t think we’ll ever be the way we were before. I’ve found something here that I lacked for too many years. And I know I’ll never be able to let it go again.”

Beth poked out her lips, her expression sour. “You’re talking about God, aren’t you?”

Marie wasn’t sure which feeling took precedence at that moment—elation that Beth had recognized the light of God in her mother’s bearing, or sorrow that she spoke of it with such disdain. “Yes, I am.”

Beth marched to the sink and dumped the coffee. Dark spatters rose with the force of her swing. “And I suppose you’ll choose Him over me, just like you’ve chosen your family over me.”

Marie bolted from her chair and rushed across the floor to envelop Beth in her arms. Even though her daughter stood stiffly, keeping her arms at her sides, Marie held her close, stroking her hair with a trembling hand. “Sweetheart, I’m not choosing anything over you. Nothing will change how much I love you. But I can’t give God up for you. I hope you understand that.”

Beth allowed the embrace for a few more seconds before she pulled back. The hurt in her eyes stabbed Marie. “No, Mom, I don’t understand. And frankly, I don’t want to.” She moved to the doorway leading to the hall and then paused, her shoulders tense. “Since you don’t want to go away this weekend, I guess I’ll go on my own. I could benefit from some normalcy. Maybe I’ll call Mitch, see if he wants to fly in and meet me.”

Marie clamped her jaw, refusing to respond. There was no point—Beth already knew how Marie felt about her spending time with Mitch. Instead, she posed a practical question. “How will you
pay for your minivacation?”

“Maybe I’ll take some of the money out of the account in McPherson. . .unless you have a problem with that.”

Marie sighed. “That account will be yours soon anyway. I won’t oppose it.”

Peeking over her shoulder, Beth sent Marie a brief questioning look. When Marie met her gaze, remaining silent, Beth released a huff and disappeared around the corner.

Marie sat back at the table and buried her face in her hands.
God
, her heart cried,
I won’t choose Beth over You. But please don’t let me lose her. She means so much to me
. . . .

Henry glanced at the overcast sky as he slid into his vehicle. He released a shiver. The temperature had dropped overnight. The gray sky and the snap of the air gave the promise of snow. He smiled. From the time he was a boy, he had anticipated the first snow of the season. Often it came right after Thanksgiving, which always brought a rush of eagerness for Christmas.

Pulling his car onto the fog-shrouded road, he let his thoughts drift ahead to Christmas. It would be different this year, without Lisbeth. Fondness brought a smile as he remembered past years and the traditions he’d shared with his dear friend. He would miss her homemade noodles and spicy mince pies. He would miss shopping for fabric for her quilts. How she teased him about choosing such unattractive patterns! He could still see her crinkly smile, hear her teasing comment, “What do men know?” The comment always brought a laugh, never indignation.