When Grace Sings (16 page)

Ruby bounced in her chair. “Momma, can we be excused?”

“
May
we be excused,” Shelley corrected.

Ruby repeated, “May we be excused?”

Grandmother tweaked one of Ruby’s blond braids. “Yes, you may. Take your sister and your cousins to the barn and play with Pepper. The poor old girl needs some attention.”

The crowd of children careened from the dining room, grabbed their jackets, and plowed out the front door en masse. At their departure Shelley began collecting the dirty dishes. She flicked a glance toward the kitchen hallway. “I have to say, he’s much more polite than I expected him to be.”

Sandra held her coffee cup beneath her chin. “You mean Mr. Forrester?” She took a sip. “Why wouldn’t he be?”

Shelley clapped crumb-laden saucers into a stack. “Some of the big-city people who visit Arborville appall me with their lack of manners. Mr. Forrester, however, was nothing like I expected. Frankly, I found him a breath of fresh air.”

Had Aunt Shelley ever spoken so kindly of Alexa? She didn’t think so. And why was Shelley clearing
Alexa’s
table? She stood and took over the task of plate gathering. “Sit, Aunt Shelley. I’ll take care of the cleanup.”

“Oh, but—”

“Just relax. My kitchen. My mess. I’ll clean it up.” She softened her words with a smile.

For several seconds Shelley stared at her with her brow puckered, and then she nodded. “All right, Alexa. I suppose it is your kitchen now, and you have your way of doing things.” She waved her hand as if granting permission. “Suit yourself.” But she grabbed the coffee carafe and refilled her cup and her husband’s cup before sitting down again.

Alexa circled the table and filled her hands with dishes. Between trips back and forth from the kitchen, she half listened to the conversations. The men had one, involving winter crops, and the women another, concerning ways to break Clete and Tanya’s little Julie of her thumb-sucking habit. Alexa could contribute nothing to either topic, so she finished clearing the table and loading the dishwasher without speaking a word.

When she entered the dining room with a soapy cloth to scrub the table, Sandra reached out and captured her hand. “Alexa, may I ask a favor?”

Her sour reflections of moments ago melted. People only asked favors of those they considered close enough to trust. Whatever Sandra needed, she’d do it. “Of course.”

“Mother said you put some really nice mattress pads—the memory kind?—on the beds upstairs.”

Alexa nodded. “That’s right.” She hadn’t been able to afford new mattresses for the guest beds, but the four-inch-thick foam pads made the old mattresses feel like new.

“Would you be willing to lend one to me for the next several weeks? That is, if you don’t have guests scheduled for the rooms.”

Such an odd request. Alexa released a little chuckle. “Do you want to find out if they’re comfortable or not?”

“No, I want to make my sleeper sofa more comfortable.” She let go of Alexa’s hand and turned toward the group at the table. “The sofa works well for a night or two, but to sleep on it for several weeks?” She cringed.

Clete bounced his fist against Derek’s shoulder. “Did my baby sister banish you to the basement?”

Derek laughed. “No, I’m not going to be sleeping down there. We have a guest coming.”

“Instead of taking one of Alexa’s nice mattress pads, why not have whoever is coming stay here at the B and B?” Grandmother frowned. “That’s why Alexa fixed up those rooms—for guests.”

Sandra made a face. “I don’t think this guest can afford to pay for a room, Mother. And …” She bit her lip, sending a quick apologetic look to Alexa. “It might be awkward if she stayed here.”

Clete’s wife, Tanya, leaned forward, her eyes sparking. “Who is it, Sandra?”

“Anna—Grace Braun.”

Silence descended like a wet wool blanket. Alexa was nearly smothered beneath its weight. “Why?” She didn’t realize she’d blurted the query until every face around the table jerked in her direction. Embarrassment seared her face, and she wished she could snatch the word back.

Sandra took Alexa’s hand again and squeezed, the touch filled with compassion. “She wants to help remodel the Meiers farmhouse.”

Alexa stepped away from her aunt’s light grasp. “Well, of course she wants to help. It’ll be her home, after all.” She moved to her spot and began swiping the cloth over the patch of table. She didn’t look, but she sensed everyone watching her.

Grandmother cleared her throat. “Sandra, did she—Anna—Grace, I mean—mention … Does she know?”

Alexa understood the meaning behind the question. Her hand slowed as she waited for Sandra to answer.

“I don’t think so.”

Her breath—a breath she hadn’t even realized she was holding—eased out. She didn’t want Anna—Grace to know she was the
real
Zimmerman daughter, granddaughter, and niece. If Anna—Grace didn’t know, somehow Alexa could continue to pretend she wasn’t a replacement for the baby given up for adoption nearly twenty years ago.

“It will be awfully hard to be natural around her.” Tanya sighed, shaking her head. “I almost wish Suzy hadn’t told us who Anna—Grace is.”

“Don’t be melodramatic.” Grandmother’s tone became tart. “Being aware of Anna—Grace’s biological parentage doesn’t change the fact she is Andrew and Olivia’s daughter in the eyes of the law. You’ve always known she was adopted, and you’ve never treated her differently than anyone else in the family. That doesn’t have to change.”

“But it has changed, Mother.” Shelley’s tone matched Grandmother’s. “Sandra’s choice of words fits. It’s awkward. How can we
not
be uncomfortable around her, knowing she’s our niece rather than our cousin?”

Grandmother frowned and didn’t answer.

Harper slipped his arm around his wife’s shoulders. “I’ll tell you how. We remind ourselves that none of this is Anna—Grace’s fault. She didn’t ask to be given up for adoption, and she didn’t ask to be adopted by her mother’s cousin. If we treat her differently now, after previously being at ease around her, she’ll feel like she’s being punished for some unknown wrong.”

Alexa’s knees felt weak. She eased into her chair and held the wadded, damp rag in her lap. She didn’t even care about the wet patch forming on her skirt. Why hadn’t Harper expressed such words of support when Shelley was holding herself aloof from Alexa? She hadn’t asked to be raised by a single, unwed mother, yet in many ways she’d been ostracized because of it. Why were Anna—Grace’s feelings so much more important than hers had been?

“Harper is right.” Derek leaned forward and rested his linked hands on the tabletop. “We have to look at this from a legal standpoint. Anna—Grace became your cousin when the Brauns adopted her. She’s still your cousin.”

Shelley snorted. “From a legal standpoint, he says. As if we only have
brains and no hearts!” She folded her arms over her chest and scowled. “Well, let me remind you, Derek, it wasn’t your sister who gave birth to an illegitimate child and kept it secret for nineteen years. I’m still struggling with—”

Harper’s frown and quick shake of his head silenced whatever else Shelley planned to say, but Alexa suspected she knew anyway. Shelley might have relaxed around her, but underneath she still viewed Alexa as an outsider. She always would.

Sandra turned toward Alexa. Empathy glowed in her blue eyes. Eyes as sky blue as all the Zimmermans, including Anna—Grace. “If you’d rather not lend me the mattress pad, it’s all right. I’ll just put some big pieces of cardboard between the frame’s bars and the mattress to give it some support.”

Alexa wouldn’t say no. Family looked out for each other, and she wouldn’t want to sleep on a lumpy mattress with bars poking into her back. She couldn’t subject Anna—Grace to such discomfort no matter how jealous she was of the girl who really belonged in this family. She opened her mouth, fully intending to assure Sandra it was fine for her to borrow one of the pads, but something else spilled out.

“Why not just have Anna—Grace stay out here?”

Sandra’s jaw dropped open. Shelley and Tanya both stared at Alexa as if she’d suddenly morphed into an alien creature.

Clete’s eyebrows descended. “Are you sure, Alexa? If she stays until the house is finished, she could be here well past Thanksgiving. That’s a lot of potential income to give up.” His eyes said,
“Here’s your out. You can take it if you want to.”

Alexa clenched her fist around the dishrag. “No. Really. I don’t have anyone scheduled for the next several weeks so it isn’t as if I’ll be giving up income to let her have a room. No offense, Sandra and Derek, but she’d be more comfortable here than she would be in your basement. Plus if she’s here, she’ll be close enough to the Meiers farmstead to walk over on nice days if she wants to.”

Clete reached out and offered her a few clumsy pats on the shoulder. “It’s very unselfish of you to open one of your rooms to Anna—Grace.”

Grandmother blew out a short huff and muttered, “Unselfish, and more than a little nuts.”

Cautious laughter rumbled around the table, and Alexa battled a wry grin. Grandmother was right. She must be out of her mind. Could she really sacrifice her peace of mind and let Anna—Grace—Grandmother’s biological grandchild—stay under this roof? She pulled in a slow breath to calm her jangling nerves and said in a raspy whisper, “She’s family. You don’t close the door on family.”

Shelley hung her head. Sandra and Derek exchanged a telling look. Tanya blinked rapidly, as if battling tears.

Alexa tapped Sandra’s wrist. “When is Anna—Grace coming to Arborville?”

“She’ll arrive the twenty-fourth.”

Two weeks
 … “All right then. I’ll have a room ready for her.”

Grandmother aimed an approving smile at Alexa. Alexa managed a wobbly smile in reply, but inwardly she cringed. She hoped no one searched beneath the surface of her words. If they did, they’d realize the motivation for her unselfish act was anything but selfless. She wanted their approval, their acceptance, their affection. And if it took inviting Anna—Grace Braun to the B and B to gain it, then she’d welcome her mother’s biological daughter with open arms.

Briley

Briley stretched his legs out and crossed his ankles. The worn straps of the aluminum folding chair creaked as he adjusted his weight to the edge of the seat. He hoped he wouldn’t fall through the sagging old chair. He’d thought it chivalrous when Paul Aldrich offered the seat and moved to the opposite side of the pond, but now he suspected the man had the better part of the deal. As stiff as his muscles had grown during his two hours of sitting beside the pond not catching fish, if the chair collapsed he probably wouldn’t have the ability to free himself from the rusty contraption.

He angled his gaze toward Danny, who sat as still as a statue in a similar chair about ten feet away. “Do you and your dad really do this every week?”

“Just about.” Danny’s mouth barely moved to release the answer. No other muscle in his body even twitched. He seemed completely absorbed in watching the plastic ball—what Aldrich called a bobber—floating on the water’s surface.

Briley sighed and looked at his own red-and-white bobber. Stupid name. The thing never bobbed. It just sat there. He looked at Danny again, marveling at his focus. How could the kid be so still and attentive for hours on end? Briley had battled tossing his pole aside for the past hour and a half. Of course Danny’d caught and released six fish in that amount of time—the same number as his father. Briley glanced at his floating bobber and stifled a snort. Fish
in a Mennonite pond must only bite worms touched by Mennonite fingers. He should drop the pole and go back to the B and B. What a waste of time …

He braced himself to rise, and the red half of the bobber suddenly plunged beneath the surface of the water and bounced up again. Briley stiffened. Had he imagined that?

Danny sat up straight, excitement lighting his face. “You got a bite!”

Briley nodded. He curled both hands tight around his pole’s handle and stared at the bobber. It went under again, this time the entire ball disappearing and the tip of his pole bending downward with the force of whatever had hold of the bait.

Danny crowed, “Yank it, Mr. Forrester! Yank it!”

So Briley yanked. His pulse galloped into wild double beats as he felt resistance. He’d caught a big fish, for sure! But then the line snapped free and the hook—empty of either a fish or a worm—flew over his head and sprinkled him with cold pond water. He glared for a moment at the fishless hook swaying at the end of the line and then flung the pole to the ground.

Danny drew back, his eyes round. “What’s the matter?”

Didn’t the kid have any sense? Briley snorted. “What do you think? I lost the fish, that’s what’s the matter.”

The boy shrugged. “That happens sometimes.” He squinted against the sun, his gaze never wavering from Briley’s face. “Or it might’ve been a turtle and not a fish at all. They like the worms, too.”

Briley balled his hands into fists and held back a growl of frustration. Danny’s logical explanation irritated him worse than losing the fish had. “Don’t placate me.”