Tags:
Fiction,
General,
Romance,
Man-Woman Relationships,
Christian fiction,
Religious,
Christian,
Secrecy,
Kansas,
Mennonites,
Harmony (Kan.: Imaginary Place)
way he did? Didn’t he go to church?”
Sam shrugged his broad shoulders. “Well, the Old Order folks don’t have a formal meeting house anymore. They hold services in each other’s homes. Ben went to all the meetings and did everything he was supposed to do, but he rarely just sat down and carried on a conversation with anyone, even those who believed the same way he did. There were a few people he trusted, including my aunt and me. But I can’t say he was ever completely forthcoming with us.” He gulped down some lemonade then set down the glass. “I believe there was something going on with your uncle—something he never talked directly about. As far as I know, he died without ever sharing it.”
“But he did tell you about me.”
Sam frowned and leaned forward. “Ben asked me to come by and talk to him about something ‘private’ a couple of months ago. I thought he was finally ready to share whatever it was that bothered him so deeply. But he only talked a little about your family—who you were and how he hadn’t seen you for so long. Didn’t really explain why except to say there were some differences that separated you. Then he told me that I should watch for you to come. He even told me that he’d had all his property put in your name.” He sighed and leaned back in his chair. “That was as personal as he got. I only wish he would have trusted me more. I think he went to his reward with a heavy burden. That shouldn’t have happened. Benjamin Temple deserved better.”
“Maybe he would have told you if he’d had more time,” I offered.
Sam stared at his empty glass. “Possibly, but I don’t think so. Ben knew he didn’t have long. His heart was giving out. In the last year, he got worse and worse.”
I felt a rush of indignation. “Why in the world wouldn’t he call my father to let him know how ill he was? Except for my grandfather who is in a nursing home, my dad was his only close relative.”
“He had his own way, Grace. It might not make sense to you, but over the years I came to respect your uncle for many of his beliefs. He didn’t choose an easy life.”
“But turning your back on people who don’t believe the same way you do isn’t right.”
Sam shrugged. “I don’t agree with it either, but I think in Ben’s mind it was the only choice open to him. I guess he thought somehow your dad and your grandparents would repent and come back into the fold.”
“That’s ridiculous. My parents and grandparents are the best people I’ve ever known. They have nothing to ‘repent’ from.”
Sam pushed back his chair and stood up. “Well, Pastor Mueller agrees with you. He talked to Ben several times and encouraged him to contact your family. Your uncle wouldn’t budge. I tried to reason with him, too, but he shut me down. I finally let it go because I didn’t want to lose his friendship.”
I smiled at Sam, but I was thinking that although his words sounded right, I wished someone had been more forceful with my uncle. He’d left a lot of hurt behind him, and that certainly didn’t seem very Christlike to me.
“I’ve got to get going,” Sam said, “but first I want to make certain you know how to fire up all your appliances.”
I obediently followed him around while he demonstrated each piece of equipment. I wanted to grumble that in Wichita, all I had to do was turn a knob, but I kept my mouth shut. I appreciated his help. After our informative tour, I walked him to the front door.
He put his hand on the doorknob to leave but suddenly hesitated. “Why don’t I stop by tomorrow and take you to breakfast in town? You’ll get a chance to visit a few of our shops and meet some of Harmony’s residents. There are still a few folks who remember your family. I’m sure they’d love to meet you.”
I started to turn him down. I wanted a few days to myself before taking on the town of Harmony. But as I looked into his incredible smoky gray eyes, I forgot what I’d