Stranger's Gift (27 page)

“I am asking you to think about how this might raise questions among people in our community, our congregation.”

“Olive Crowder?”

“
Liebchen
, surely you know that if Olive should ever become so concerned that she actually files a formal complaint against you, there is nothing I can do except to follow the protocol of our faith.”

“I know,” Hester admitted. “But I cannot let Grady down, Dad. He's been a good friend. I will go tonight to support Grady, and that will be the end of it. I give you my word that I will turn all of my efforts toward helping others through the church, starting first thing tomorrow. No more meetings with outsiders, no more—”

Her father stood and embraced her. “I am asking no such thing of you, Hester. I would never ask you to be other than the woman God has led you to be. The only thing I ask of you is that you be certain in your heart and mind that the choices you are making are those that God has led you to make and not those of your own choosing.”

Hester hugged her father harder. “Even if those choices go against—?”

Arlen held her by her shoulders so that they were face-to-face, his blue eyes piercing as they held hers. “If you have prayed on these matters and listened for God's answer, then I will stand with you, and together we will see what plan God has in mind for you.”

“Danke, Papa,” she whispered as she kissed his cheek.

He chuckled. “You have not called me ‘Papa' since you were seven or eight, and as I recall, you always did so when you had gotten your way.” He gave her a little push toward the door. “Now go—before I change my mind.”

At the reception, Hester was relieved to see that everyone attending was dressed in regular daytime attire. Only Jeannie and a woman whom Grady pointed out as a member of the committee as well as John Steiner's aunt arrived wearing something that could be called fancy. Jeannie was dressed in a flowing ankle-length caftan-style dress, and John's aunt was wearing a silk pantsuit in peacock blue.

Likewise the food was basic—cheese and crackers, vegetables and dip, and no alcohol. Instead, they served fresh-squeezed orange juice.

“Are we having fun yet?” Margery murmured as she came alongside Hester and bit down on a cracker. “Bunch of politicians trying to act like they might actually make something happen,” she huffed. “Although that one there”—she pointed toward John's aunt—”she has potential.” She chewed her cracker and continued her monologue as if Hester had raised the question of how she might know that. “I had a chance to spend some time with her this afternoon when she was out visiting Johnny. Oh, she knows how to push his buttons.” She cackled with delight. “Got him so riled up that he actually agreed to show up here tonight.”

In spite of herself, Hester made a quick scan of the crowded room.

“He's over there,” Margery said with a nod toward a marble pillar at the far end of the room where, sure enough, John Steiner was leaning with arms crossed, his signature scowl firmly in place.

“So that's his aunt,” Hester said, swinging her attention back to the woman in blue as John's eyes met hers. “She looks young enough to be his sister.”

She nodded. “She gave me the whole family history. After Johnny's father died, his mom would have Liz come and spend summers on the farm with them. She told me she would have come here right after the storm passed, but duty had to take precedence. That's why she called the mayor here, who called Grady…who called you.”

It was definitely hard to picture the anything-but-plain woman on a farm at all, much less one in the midst of an Amish community. Still, she had a way about her that made her seem downright approachable. Perhaps it was that she focused all of her attention on the person speaking to her at any given moment. Her eyes met theirs, and her features registered genuine concern and sympathy. Now and then she would place one manicured hand on the person's arm, give them a few words of what appeared to be reassurance or appreciation, and then move on to the next person.

Hester focused her attention on a man who Grady had told her was also on the Homeland Security Committee. In sharp contrast to John's aunt, the man appeared to be lecturing those gathered around him when he should have been listening.

“Hester?”

She turned to find Grady approaching her with the congresswoman close at his side.

“I'd like you to meet Congresswoman Elizabeth Carter-Thompson,” he said. “This is Hester Detlef, the woman I was telling you about.”

“It's a pleasure to meet you in person, Hester. May I call you Hester?” She had taken Hester's hand between both of hers and lasered her with eyes that were the same color as John's.

“Yes,” Hester replied.

“And I am Liz. Margery Barker told me about the work you've been doing through your agency—MCC, is it? And your father as well with MDS, I believe. Both groups were so key to our efforts after Katrina. Walk the talk, we like to say, but so few of us really ever do.”

Hester felt herself caught up in the whirlwind that she understood was Liz's way of drawing total strangers into her circle of supporters. Instinctively she pulled her hand free and took a small step away. She saw something pass across Liz's eyes that she would not have expected. She saw a hint of embarrassment.

“I'm sorry,” Liz said in a tone that sounded far more sincere than the bright chatter she'd delivered before. “Give me a second to retire my politician hat.” She pantomimed removing a hat and casting it to the wind; then she turned back to Hester. “I really want to hear any ideas you might have about how best to help those affected by this hurricane,” she said. “Can we go sit somewhere that's a little quieter and have a real conversation?”

Realizing that Grady had moved on to another group after making the introductions, Hester hesitated.

“It's not a trap,” Liz assured her. “I really want to talk.”

“All right.” She would take the congresswoman at her word, for now. But remembering the stories that Grady had told her about how government worked, she would also be cautious.

“Shall we ask my nephew to join us?”

But it was a moot question since Liz was already signaling to John. Hester glanced over at him, fully expecting him to ignore his aunt and walk away, but to her amazement, he started working his way through the crowd toward them.

“I know he can be a pill of major proportions,” Liz confided, “but he does have a way of thinking outside the box. That's what got him in trouble in the first place.” She sighed, then plastered on her brightest smile as John reached them. “John, I believe you and Hester know each other?”

He nodded and then focused his attention on his aunt. “You summoned?”

“Oh, stop being so contentious,” Liz replied as she reached up and straightened his shirt collar. John let her without shrugging away. He was wearing jeans and one of the tropical print shirts Rosalyn had pulled for him from the supplies at the center. He was clean-shaven instead of sporting the stubble that she'd gotten used to seeing on him. It surprised her that this pleased her. She had always found the stubble slightly pretentious.

“Now, then,” Liz said, pointing to a cluster of three upholstered chairs in the atrium outside the crowded ballroom. “Let's talk. Rather, you talk. I'll listen.” She nodded to a young man who had trailed them from the ballroom. “This is Alan. He's a member of my staff. If you don't object, he'll sit quietly and take notes.”

John shrugged and Hester nodded.

“Excellent,” Liz said as Alan moved a straight chair behind and to her left and pulled out a notebook and pen. “Where shall we begin?” she asked. “Tell me about the efforts MCC and MDS have already made, Hester.”

It got easier after that. Once Hester started to list the various projects coordinated by MCC and MDS and describe how the two groups worked together with the better-known secular agencies, she was in her element. Now and then John would interject a comment or Liz would ask a question that would lead them into the discussion of something else. They told her about the distribution center, the RV teams, and the work that had been done to get Margery back in business.

“Tell me about the flooding in Pinecraft,” Liz asked.

“That wasn't Grady Forrest's fault,” Hester said, and then she blushed at her uncensored remarks.

“Why would anyone think that it was?” Liz said quietly. “Are you saying there was a problem there?”

“They were busy with me,” John told her. “It's what happens when people try to pull strings from a thousand miles away.”

Hester watched as John and his aunt locked eyes. “I was concerned,” she said through a tight smile even as she quietly placed one hand on Alan's to stop his moving pen.

“And with good reason.” Hester could not help her instinct to try to smooth things over between them. Now their gazes shifted to her. “I mean, at times like that, it's hard to know where to put your resources first. The human tendency is to protect those you know and love. You don't think much about how it affects others.”

“I was the one at fault,” John said quietly. “If I had left when Hester told me to, then …”

Liz's eyes widened with interest. “I wasn't aware that the two of you knew each other before the hurricane.”

“We didn't,” Hester said.

“Then why send …”

“Drop it, Lizzie,” John growled. “It's over and done with. Let's move on.” He did not look directly at Hester, but she understood that John had come as close as he would ever come to admitting that he had been wrong to stay.

“All right, then, let's talk about plans for the future and the resources available to help.” Liz signaled Alan that his notetaking could resume.

“Whose?” John asked.

“Yours makes for an interesting case study. How are things coming out there at your version of
Walden
?”

Hester's heart went out to John as she watched his features collapse into an expression of such utter defeat that she had to stop herself from reaching over to comfort him. He had done as much as he could to repair the damage to his property. Did his aunt have any idea what it had been like that first day after the hurricane passed through?

“I have the first floor of the house fairly livable.” He held up his left hand, cast removed. “I have the use of both hands for the first time in weeks.” He hesitated as if searching for words.

“But?” Liz asked, her voice gentle.

“But the undeniable fact is that the orange trees that Tucker planted and I worked at reviving for the last two years are gone.” His voice trailed off as if he had just realized this, when Hester knew that he must have known it all along. The rows of trees had for the most part been snapped off in the high winds, and those few trees not totally wiped out by the hurricane were half buried in the salty muck left behind when the waters of the bay finally receded. They were as good as dead.

“So how will you support yourself and your work on that place?” Liz pressed, her tone that of a mother nurturing a small child.

John blinked as if he were just awakening from a nightmare. “I have no idea,” he admitted. “I put everything I had into that property.”

“You still have the packinghouse,” Hester reminded him.

“And exactly what would we pack there?” he asked her, but this time he was the one who had assumed a tone that one might use in speaking to an overly optimistic child. He turned his attention back to his aunt. “So there you have one of what must be hundreds of sad stories, Lizzie. What are you and your fact-finding team going to do about it?”

A commotion just inside the ballroom drew their attention away from the tension that radiated between John and his aunt.

“Somebody call 911,” a voice yelled. “This lady's having her baby.”

Hester was on her feet instantly. With John and Liz not far behind, she worked her way through the throng surrounding Amy and Grady. Amy was sitting on one of the small straight-backed and gilded chairs at a white-cloth-covered table, a pool of water at her feet. Grady was on his knees next to her.

“Hang in there, honey,” he coached. “They've called for an ambulance.”

Amy's response was a prolonged keening of pain that sent everyone into retreat as she gripped Grady's hand. “Can't.” She gritted out the word. “Now.”

“Get back,” Hester heard John order the onlookers, and to her amazement everyone complied.

“People,” Liz shouted, clapping her hands. “Please follow Alan here out into the atrium while we wait for the ambulance.” The crowd shifted only a little. “That's the way,” she said, encouraging them to keep moving. “Let's give these folks some privacy,” she said as the others headed reluctantly toward the doors.

“When did the pains start?” Hester asked.

Amy was between contractions and breathing heavily. “This afternoon,” she said.

“This afternoon?” Grady shouted. “And you didn't say anything? We should have—”

“You needed to be here,” she replied, panting in preparation for the next round of pain. “Job,” she managed, as the pain gripped her once more.

Grady glanced at Liz then back at his wife. “You don't worry about that. We're going to be fine,” he murmured.

Liz waited for the contraction to pass and then knelt next to Grady, taking Amy's free hand. “Now you listen to me, both of you,” she said. “There is nothing so precious—or important—in this world than the beginning of a new life. That child could change the world.”

Amy's eyes brimmed with tears.

Hester saw John clasp Grady's shoulder. “Your job's not on the line,” he said. “Right, Liz?”

“Oh, for goodness' sake,” she grumbled as she got to her feet. “We aren't monsters. We didn't come down here to check up on or make anyone our scapegoat, Grady. We came here because…it's what we do when the media pushes our buttons and we don't know what else to do,” she finished lamely. “I'll speak with your boss, okay?”