Simple Secrets (The Harmony Series 1) Page 12

  I tried to hold back my tears, but I couldn’t. I covered my face with my hands and sobbed. Until that moment, I had no idea how much I’d begun to like this town and these people. But now I was marked as a thief—for something I hadn’t done.

  I felt Sam sit down next to me and put his arm around my shoulders. I leaned into him and cried until I couldn’t cry any more. He handed me a handkerchief from his pocket. I took it and wiped my face.

  “Sam, I swear...”

  He reached over and touched my lips with his fingers. “Don’t even go there.” He reached under my chin and pulled my face up to his. “I think it’s about time you told me what’s going on, don’t you?”

  “What ... what do you mean?”

  His eyebrows knit together in a frown. “Oh, come on, Grace. Your uncle had some kind of secret. He leaves his property to a niece he’s never met. You’re asking questions about Jacob Glick, a man who left Harmony years ago. And you’ve had something weighing on your mind ever since this morning. I know you didn’t take that vase. That can only mean one thing. Someone is trying to frame you. My guess is they’re hoping this accusation will make you leave town.” His eyes sought mine, and I couldn’t look away. “So tell me what this is all about. You can trust me. You know that, don’t you?”

  As I stared into his face, I was aware of two things. One: that I really could trust him. And two: that he was going to kiss me. Both of those realizations forced my heart from my throat and back into my chest where it belonged. His kiss was tender and sweet. And when he pulled back, I could still feel the pressure of his lips on mine. I kept my eyes closed for a few seconds afterward just savoring the moment. When I opened them, he was smiling at me.

  “Look,” I said, keeping my voice low so Sweetie wouldn’t overhear us. “I’ll tell you what I know, but you have to promise that you won’t take matters into your own hands. This situation is very serious, and it has to do with my family. I have to decide what to do about it without pressure from anyone else. Can you live with that?”

  “Of course. All I want to do is help. I’m not planning to cowboy up and ‘take care of the little lady.’ I know you can handle yourself just fine.”

  “We need to go somewhere else. Someplace where we can talk without being overheard.”

  Sam stood up and took my hand. Then he led me toward the front door. First he stopped by the kitchen where Sweetie was still banging pots and pans around.

  “We’re going out to the barn for a while,” he said in a voice loud enough to be heard over the racket. “Sorry about supper. It was great.” He rubbed his stomach with the hand that wasn’t holding mine. “I’m still hungry. I don’t suppose we could have some leftovers when we get back?”

  Sweetie’s expression didn’t offer us much hope of anything—let alone remnants of her abandoned meal. But she finally nodded. “You go do whatever you need to do, boy. I’ll heat you up somethin’ when you’re done.”

  She wiped her hands on her apron and shot me a look that took me by surprise. It wasn’t so much anger as it was fear. Was she afraid her nephew might be getting involved with someone she didn’t trust? We stared at each other for a moment longer until Sam pulled me away.

  The barn sat about one hundred yards from the house and was painted the same color. As we approached, a small tricolored dog ran around from behind the structure. He looked like a cross between a Jack Russell terrier and a rat terrier. His big ears stuck straight up, and his short legs moved so quickly he almost appeared to be flying.

  “Hey, Buddy!” Sam called. He knelt down as the little dog jumped up into his arms and licked his face. “Grace Temple, meet Buddy Goodrich. The third member of our little family.”

  After Sam set the small, wiggly dog back on the ground, I dropped to my knees and got an almost identical welcome. Buddy had big brown eyes that stared deeply into mine. It was as if he were trying his best to read my thoughts.

  “Hi there, Buddy,” I said after he’d finished handing out wet doggy kisses. His stump of a tail wagged so hard his whole backside quivered. I looked up at Sam. “I figured you’d have some kind of big farm dog.”

  “Buddy’s a stray. We kind of picked each other. I’m probably not the kind of owner he had in mind either—but our relationship works just fine.” He pointed toward the barn, and I followed him inside with Buddy hot on our trail.

  Sam sat down on a hay bale, and Buddy jumped up next to him, laying his head on Sam’s lap. I plopped down on a bale across from him. A quick glance around the barn revealed stored farm equipment, bags of seed and fertilizer, and a couple of horses. One was dark and shiny, while the other, a pinto, matched Buddy’s colors. Although I’d never owned a horse, a friend back in Nebraska had kept several. She’d had a pinto pony almost exactly like this one. I breathed in the barn’s sweet, earthy mixture of hay and horses. The setting sun sent its rays through the open windows and bathed our surroundings in a golden glow.

  “Now, what in the world is going on, Grace?”

  Even though I’d decided to tell him the truth, for just a moment, fear nipped at my heels. Benjamin had spent his life guarding this secret, even from Sam who had been his friend for many years. Could I really trust this man who sat waiting to share my family’s strange secret? One day in this town and my life was in chaos. Up was down and down was up. I sighed and stared into Sam’s eyes, silently asking God to show me if I should spill my guts.

  “Look,” he said quietly, noticing my obvious reluctance to take the dirty Temple laundry out of the bag, “if it helps any, I’m going to tell you what Ben told me. Once when he meant to talk to me—and one time when he didn’t. Maybe it will help.”

  I nodded. “Go on.”

  Sam sighed and stared at something above my head. “About two weeks before he died, I stopped by his house. Sweetie had made up some food for him although he wasn’t eating much. I was trying to talk him into a bowl of her chicken and rice soup when he suddenly stopped me. ‘Sam,’ he said, ‘I need you to make me a promise. I want you to help my niece when she comes to Harmony. It won’t be easy for her.’ I tried to get him to tell me more, but he wouldn’t say another word.”

  “Did you promise him?”

  “Yes I did. I figured it was the least I could do for a dying man. Someone I considered my friend.” Sam smiled. “I have to say that I was certainly pleased when you opened the door yesterday. I had this image of Ben in a dress that I couldn’t get out of my mind. The truth was much better than my imagination.”

  “Thank you.” I rubbed my hands over my upper arms. The gentle spring air was beginning to chill. “Now tell me the thing you overheard that you weren’t supposed to.”

  Sam stared down at the hay-covered floor. “This happened a few days before Ben died. He was getting weaker but refused to go to the hospital. I’d come by to see if he needed anything and to try once again to convince him we should contact your father.” Sam took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “But he was adamant that we not call him. Abel and I debated the situation more than once. It was a difficult decision.”

  I waved my hand at him. “Look, I have no idea what I would have done in your situation. Hindsight is twenty-twenty. I’m not angry with anyone in Harmony for abiding by my uncle’s last wishes. It wasn’t your fault.”

  “Well, thanks for that. Now that I know you, I wish we’d gone a different direction. But what’s done is done, I guess.”

  “Getting back to your story...”

  “Oh yeah. Sorry.” He fixed his gaze over my head again. “Anyway, I’d actually walked out the front door and gone to my truck when I realized I’d forgotten to give Ben the flowers Sweetie had sent over for him. I grabbed them and went back into the house. Ben was still sitting at the kitchen table where I’d left him. As I approached the door, I heard him praying. He was asking God to protect you and to forgive him, and he was crying.” Sam acted as if he were brushing the hair out of his eyes, but I could tell he was moved emotionally remembering
Benjamin’s distress.

  “Is that it?”

  He shook his head. “No. Suddenly he rose to his feet and walked over to the kitchen window. Then I heard him say something like, ‘You will not have the last word, Jacob. You hear me? We will be rid of you. Somehow. Someday. You may have imprisoned me, but another one will take my place. Maybe I couldn’t defeat you, but I’m praying she can.’ And with that, he staggered back to his chair and collapsed.” Sam lowered his gaze, and his stormy eyes fastened on mine. “I backed out of the room and left the flowers on the table in the hall. I never told Ben that I’d overheard him. When you first asked about Jacob Glick, it didn’t mean anything to me. But when you brought him up again at the diner, I remembered Ben’s words and realized they may not have been the crazy ravings of a dying man. He could have been referring to Glick. I just didn’t know why—or what it had to do with you.”

  Could this be the sign I’d asked for? I felt a peace settle over me. I had my answer, and now it was time to share the burden I’d carried alone over the last twenty-four hours. I took a deep breath and just let the story tumble out. I told Sam about the letter, what it said, and how it had been stolen. I also explained that I was becoming convinced someone else was concerned about keeping Glick’s death covered up, because there were secrets even my uncle didn’t know.

  “My father would never kill anyone,” I said finally. “Nor would he leave someone fatally injured and just walk away. I believe he fought with Glick—but I also believe someone else killed him. To be honest, I suspected my uncle for a while. I wondered if he was trying to blame my father for his own misdeed. But after thinking about it, I realize it doesn’t make sense. No real Christian who knew he was going to die would leave behind such an awful accusation. He’d care more about the hereafter than the here and now. Benjamin even wrote about being afraid of carrying a lie into the next life. And he sure didn’t take that letter from my dresser, nor did he try to frame me by stealing Ruth’s chestnut vase. Someone is extremely interested in keeping the truth about Jacob Glick buried. Literally and figuratively.”

  Sam, who hadn’t moved a muscle since I’d begun my discourse, just stared at me with his mouth open.

  “S–say something,” I said finally. “You’re scaring me.”

  He shook his head as if trying to clear his brain. “I—I had a few ideas about what you were going to tell me, but I must admit they didn’t come close to the reality. The only thing I got right was that Ben was talking about Jacob Glick.” He looked down at his scuffed leather boots. “Wow. I don’t know what to say.” He swung his gaze back to me. “So you’re saying there’s an actual body buried on your property? Someone who’s been there for thirty years?”

  “That’s about the size of it.”

  He stood up, waking Buddy who looked at him accusingly before he put his head back down and dozed off again. Sam paced back and forth a couple of times. Then he stopped. “We’ve got to call the sheriff, Grace. We can’t fool around with this.”

  I jumped up, too. “You promised you’d let me make the decisions about what to do, remember?”

  “Yes, but I’m pretty sure having a buried body on your property is illegal,” he said sarcastically. “Especially if the person was murdered.”

  “Listen, Sam. That body’s been there for thirty years. Another two weeks isn’t going to make a difference. I want some time to try to figure out what really happened to Glick.”

  “And if you can’t?”

  “Then we’ll decide what should be done. I agree that we’ll probably have to call the sheriff. I have no intention of living here for the rest of my life, guarding the body of some guy I don’t even know.”

  It felt good to say “we.” Bringing someone else into the mess my uncle left behind lifted a weight. But that still didn’t bring me the answers I needed.

  Sam sauntered back over to his bale of hay and sat down. He reached over and scratched Buddy behind the ears. “Wait a minute. This might be easier than you think. If you never mention the letter, no one will know who killed Glick. They won’t be able to prove Ben knew anything about it even though they might suspect him. He can’t be hurt by this anymore. Maybe we could just accidentally uncover the body, call the police, and act dumb.”

  I sighed. “You’re forgetting my dad. Trust me. He’ll try to take responsibility for Glick’s death.”

  “But why would he connect the remains to Glick? Your father thinks he moved away years ago. It might never occur to him that the dead man is someone he knew.”

  “Benjamin packed a suitcase to make it look like Glick left town and buried it with him. It won’t be hard for the authorities to figure out who the body belongs to. Look, Sam. In the time I have left here, let’s see what we can find out about Jacob Glick. There are still people in Harmony who knew him. I think we might be able to figure out what really happened if we talk to the right person. And in the process, we’ll probably find out who took Ruth’s vase and planted it at my place. Until then, everyone’s going to think I’m guilty.”

  Sam stared at the floor for several seconds. Finally, he raised his hands in surrender. “I might be making the biggest mistake of my life, but okay.” He pointed his index finger at me. “But if we can’t solve this thing...”

  “Like I said, we’ll probably have to call the sheriff.”

  “Probably?”

  I reached for a strand of hair and twirled it around my finger. “Just what kind of man is he?”

  Sam’s eyes widened, and then he laughed. “He’s a jerk. I know it’s not nice to say things like that, but folks in Harmony try their best to keep him out of their business. He doesn’t like religious people, and he sees our little town as a hotbed of crazy zealots.”

  I snorted. “Oh great. That’s encouraging.”

  “Sorry. Just being honest.”

  “Well, let’s keep that prospect in the background for now.” I looked at my watch. “It’s getting late. Let’s see if we can talk your aunt into having pity on us. I’m starving. Then I need to get back to my uncle’s and get a good night’s sleep. We have a lot of work to do...”

  Sam held his hand up like a cop stopping traffic. “Whoa right there, little lady. I might have promised not to interfere in how you handle your family secret, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to stay quiet about everything you do.”

  I frowned at him. “What are you talking about?”

  He stood up again. Somehow, Buddy knew this time Sam intended to leave. The small dog jumped down and waited at his master’s feet. “You heard noises outside Ben’s place last night. Today someone’s been inside your house twice. There’s no way on God’s green earth I’m letting you stay there another night. I’ll drive you over so you can get whatever clothes and supplies you need, but then you’re coming back here. And you’re staying with us until we know beyond a shadow of a doubt that you’re safe.” He folded his arms across his chest and glared at me.

  My own stubbornness raised its ugly head and met his expression with one of my own. I desperately wanted to inform him that he wasn’t about to tell me what to do. But to be honest, the idea of staying at Benjamin’s alone gave me the heebie-jeebies. “Don’t get used to pushing me around,” I growled at him. “However, in this case, I think you’re right.” I nodded toward the house. “What will Sweetie say?”

  “Sweetie won’t say a word. She trusts me. If I say you need to stay with us, she’ll go along with it.”

  Great. Just what I needed. A hostess forced into extending hospitality. I sighed. “Let’s see if she’ll feed us, and then you can give her the news. I’m sure she’ll be overjoyed.”

  He chuckled and pointed toward the large barn door. Buddy and I headed out, but when I turned around, Sam wasn’t behind us. He stood in front of one of the horses, petting its head and speaking softly to it. I waited while he said good night to both of the beautiful animals, admiring his tenderness with them. Sam Goodrich was different than any man I’d ever known—ex
cept my father. Was that why I was drawn to him? I made an inner vow to keep a little distance between us—physically and emotionally. It would be hard. His long blond hair glowed in the dusky light, and the muscles in his arms moved as he stroked the horses. The remaining sunlight caught the light golden hairs on his arms. His lean body moved with an unusual grace. I suspected it came from working on the farm. I couldn’t call him cover-model handsome, but his looks were appealing, even though I got the feeling he wasn’t aware of it. More importantly, Sam Goodrich was an honorable man. To me, there was nothing more attractive than a man with a virtuous heart. And there weren’t enough of them around. I ran through a short mental list of the men I’d dated in the past year—every one a polished professional. Yet none of them held a candle to this Kansas farm boy.

  Sam checked the padlocks on each stall and faced me with a smile. “Sweetie and I rescued Ranger and Tonto from a man in Council Grove who abused them. When we brought them here, they were sick, skinny, and afraid of people. They’ve come a long way.”