CHAPTER / 12

Cora was right about Fridays being the busiest day in the restaurant. Weekends were seen as family time by the citizens of Kingdom, so Friday was the last chance to eat out for almost everyone except the single folks who liked to gather together on Saturday mornings. The day started off busy, and the pace kept up all the way through lunch. Cora warned me more than once that dinner would be a challenge, and I’d begun to worry. Would I be able to keep up? The last thing I wanted to do was to let Cora down.

Because of the increased business, she offered only four dinners on Fridays, which made things a little easier. The menu consisted of her famous meatloaf, roast beef with oven-browned potatoes, chicken-fried steak and mashed potatoes, and of course her wonderful fried chicken dinner. The meatloaf and roast beef were cooked ahead of time and kept warm, but Cora had to fry the chicken and steak as it was being ordered. That meant she wouldn’t be able to help wait tables. I’d be on my own. By three o’clock I was already tired and fairly confident that by the time the restaurant closed, I’d be thoroughly exhausted.

Keeping up on orders and taking care of folks in the restaurant helped to keep my mind occupied, yet a cloak of fear enveloped me the entire time. Where was the man in the red cap? Would he suddenly burst in and have me arrested? Accuse me of stealing money from my employer while all our customers looked on? Would he bring the elders with him, all of them convinced I was guilty?

Besides the apprehension that clutched at my heart, I was also filled with an overwhelming sadness. Though we’d been in Kingdom less than a week, it was beginning to feel like home. Strange, because when I’d left five years ago, it hadn’t felt like that at all. To say I was surprised by my reaction was an understatement. If given the chance, could we actually be happy here? Even with my father’s rejection?

Ebbie Miller came in for a late lunch, and we talked some. He was as concerned as everyone else about the church, but he was convinced that prayer was the most important tool in bringing peace.

“I’m uncomfortable with the resentment I see building between brothers and sisters in the Lord,” he said softly. “How can Christ be honored through it?” I could see the pain in his dark brown eyes. “I appreciate the mediators who are trying to establish a dialogue and work this out, but I’m convinced my place is one of prayer. God can do what man cannot.”

Although I wasn’t sure I agreed with him, I walked away thinking what a nice man he was. Maybe an arranged marriage with Hope would work after all. I certainly wasn’t any expert on wedded bliss, so I intended to keep my opinion to myself. Watching their relationship evolve should prove to be very interesting. For Hope and Ebbie’s sakes, I prayed it would work. However, it would take something a step beyond an orchestrated marriage to bring me a husband. Especially in Kingdom. No man in this town would ever be interested in damaged goods. Noah’s face floated unbidden into my mind, and I pushed it quickly away.

A little after three thirty, Mother walked in the door. I motioned toward an empty table, where she took a seat. I went to get a pot of coffee and to warm up some leftover coffeecake from breakfast. Mother loved the desserts at Cora’s, and it tickled me to share them with her. Partially because of the knowledge that my father would be upset to learn she was enjoying something he didn’t allow.

“Are you angry with me?” Mother asked as I put our food on the table.

“I’m not really angry,” I said, “but I wish you’d held off until I was sure that was the right thing to do.” I poured coffee into both our cups and sat down.

She sighed as she reached for her cup. “I did not mean to speak to your father about your situation, but he could tell I was upset and insisted that I explain why.”

“Just because he insists doesn’t mean he always has to get his way, you know.”

She gazed at me, a frown deepening the fine lines around her eyes. “I know that, Daughter. But I felt he would do the right thing. And I believe he did.”

As I reached for my napkin, I could see my hand shake. “So . . . did the elders find the guy? Did they speak to him?”

She shrugged her thin shoulders. “I do not know, but they did go to look for him. Your father was gone for quite a while last night. I believe he may have driven to Washington to see if the man was staying in a local motel.”

“He rode there in this weather? In the snow?”

Mother silently prayed over her food while I waited for her answer. I couldn’t see my father putting out much effort for me. Especially when the roads were so bad.

“Yes,” she said when she lifted her head. “He came back very late, and I did not have a chance to ask him about his journey before he left this morning. He had to shoe two of Aaron Metcalf’s horses. I stopped by the shop before coming here, but he was not there.”

I quietly sipped my coffee, trying to quell the queasy feeling in my stomach. Had Father confronted my stalker? What would happen now?

“Grandma!” Charity’s voice rang out in the restaurant. She came running from the kitchen up to my mother. “Miss Cora and I made roast beef and meatloaf.” She took my mother’s hand and smiled at her. “And it looks good, Grandma. Do you want some?”

Mother laughed and hugged her granddaughter. “Not right now, Charity, but thank you. I am sure it will be delicious. Which one will you have for dinner?”

She gazed gravely at Cora, who had followed her to our table. “I don’t know. There will be fried chicken tonight too.” She sighed. “There are too many good things to eat here. It’s quite a problem.”

Cora guffawed. “Well, that’s the first time anyone ever called my food a problem.” She knelt down next to Charity. “Tell you what. How ’bout we fix you a plate with a little bit of everything? That way you can try them all. Wouldn’t be right for you to miss the roast beef and meatloaf, since you helped to prepare it.”

Charity turned to stare at me, her eyes wide with amazement. “Mama, can I have some of all the dinners? That would be wonderful.”

I grinned at her. “Yes, as long as you only have a little bit of each one. I don’t want to have to roll you upstairs.”

She giggled. “I won’t eat too much. I promise.” She slid her hands down the front of her purple corduroy overalls. “I don’t think I’m too fat. So it’s okay.”

Mother chuckled. “You are not fat, Cherry Bear. You are just perfect.”

I was touched to hear my mother use my nickname for Charity, who wrapped her arms around her grandmother.

“Thank you, Grandma. And I think you’re just perfect too.” She hesitated a moment. “Well, except for . . .”

“I know, I know,” my mother said. “The potty.”

Charity let go of her. “Yes, but I’m pretty sure it’s not your fault. I think it’s the fault of my grandpa. Why is he such a mean man, Grandma?”

Cora put her hands on Charity’s shoulders. “I gotta start gettin’ our steaks and chicken ready to fry,” she said quickly. “Are you gonna help me?”

“Oh yes, please. I like the noise it makes when the food goes in the fryer.”

“I like it too,” Cora said. “Say good-bye to Grandma and Mama for now.”

She waved her little hand. “Bye. I’ll be cookin’ if you need me.” With that she skipped away, headed toward the kitchen.

“Anna, I’ve never said anything negative about your husband in front of Charity,” Cora said, her tone serious. “I want you to know that. I’d never, ever do that.”

Mother reached out and put her hand on Cora’s arm. “I believe you, Cora. You are not the person who painted that negative picture in the child’s mind. Her grandfather did that all by himself. Please do not worry. I am so grateful to God for your intervention in the lives of my daughter and granddaughter. I cannot thank you enough for your generosity and care.”

Cora patted Mother’s hand with her other one. “I’m the one who’s been blessed, Anna. Havin’ these two in my life . . . well, I don’t feel so lonely anymore.” She looked at me with tears shining in her eyes. “You’d think bein’ surrounded by folks all day would keep an old lady like me from feelin’ alone, wouldn’t you? But it’s not true. At the end of the day, everyone goes home, and the silence is deafening. But with you and Charity here? Well, there’s always someone waitin’ for me. I haven’t experienced that since Edgar died.” She let go of Mother’s hand and dabbed at her eyes with her apron, leaving a spot of flour on each cheek. “Well, guess I better get into the kitchen before Charity tries fryin’ up the chicken by herself.” She smiled. “And she could probably do it too.”

As Cora walked away, my mother shook her head. “I wonder sometimes how well I could cope without your father. Cora has business sense and skills, but I have no talent or abilities that would support me.”

“Mother, that’s not true. “You’re as good a cook as Cora, and you’re a wonderful seamstress. Trust me, you’d have no trouble taking care of yourself.”

I couldn’t help but wonder why she’d brought the subject up. Was it really because she was afraid of being a widow, or was there another reason she was thinking about life without my father? In my wildest imagination, I couldn’t see her ever leaving him. It just wasn’t done. Not in Kingdom anyway.

We finished our coffeecake, and Mother headed home, promising to let me know if she heard anything more about the man in the red ball cap.

Around four thirty, the café began to fill up in anticipation of a menu that wouldn’t be served until five o’clock. As Cora promised, I was so busy I barely had enough time to catch my breath. Hope came in with her father. I was surprised to see Samuel in the restaurant, but though a little stiff, he was friendly toward me. I wondered how the meeting with the pastor and the elders had gone, but I didn’t have the time or opportunity to ask Hope about it.

A little after seven thirty, Cora came out of the kitchen and pulled me aside. “We’re pretty well caught up. I’ve got plenty of chicken and steak cooked and ready. Why don’t you take a break? I’ll serve the customers for a bit.”

I couldn’t argue with her. My legs were so sore I could barely stand. Sitting down for a few minutes sounded like heaven. I handed her my order pad and went into the kitchen, where Charity was sitting at the small table Cora had put up for her. Paper was spread out all over the tabletop, and a large box of colorful crayons lay opened, a bright red one clutched in her hand.

“Looks like you’ve been drawing some wonderful pictures,” I said, sinking down into the chair across from her. If I didn’t know better, I’d have thought my legs sighed with relief.

“I’m drawing stuff for you, and for Grandma, and for Miss Cora.” She pushed one of the pages toward me. “And I drawed this one for Grandpa. Can we give it to him?”

Her crude picture clearly showed a tall man with dark hair and a beard, dressed in black clothing, bent over with his arms out, hugging a little girl and a woman. It was obvious the child was Charity, and I was the other figure.

“Miss Cora said that God wants to answer our prayers, Mama,” she said softly. “So I drew my prayer. I want my Grandpa to love us. I asked God for it, and He told me He would do it.”

“G-God told you, Cherry Bear? What do you mean?”

“He told me.” She smiled. “He’s workin’ on it. God said to tell you not to be afraid anymore, Mama.”

Pain and exhaustion forgotten, I stared at my daughter with dismay. I knew Cora had been talking to her about God, but now Charity actually imagined He’d talked to her? What in the world could I say? How could I tell her that God doesn’t have conversations with regular people? Before I could figure out how to respond, the door to the kitchen burst open and Cora came in. The look on her face struck fear into my heart. Was the man in the red ball cap in the café? Had I finally been exposed?

“Lizzie,” Cora said, her voice shaking. “There’s someone here to see you. I didn’t know what to tell him.”

I got up from the table and ran to the door, pushing it open. I looked out at the full tables, trying to spot a red cap, but there wasn’t one. Even though I didn’t see him at first, it really wasn’t hard to spot the person Cora had been so concerned about. He was the only man sitting at a table by himself. We locked eyes at the same time, and a cold chill ran through me.

Staring back at me was Clay Troyer, Charity’s father.