I spent the next two hours in automatic mode, finishing our movie and getting Charity to bed. Although I tried to act as if nothing was wrong, she kept watching my face, her expression one of concern. I couldn’t completely hide the terror that caused my heart to pound in my chest.
Once she was in bed, I went back downstairs to get a cup of coffee and think. How could there be another note? The man who wrote them was dead, wasn’t he? Would I never be free from him? Eventually my fears narrowed down to one unanswerable question. When had it arrived? There was no postmark. The envelopes in Kansas City had all been postmarked in Kansas City, although there was never a return address. This envelope had obviously been hand delivered.
I quickly checked the front door of the restaurant. It certainly wasn’t airtight. I could easily slide an envelope under it. Someone had brought it to the restaurant and left it for me. But when? Last night I’d quickly swept the floor before going to bed, but I was so tired, I only concentrated on the areas under the tables. I could have easily overlooked it. It had been pushed between a large decorative cupboard and the corner. It was a miracle Cora even noticed it.
After heating up some coffee and pouring myself a cup, I slumped down into a chair in the dining room and turned the note over in my hands. It was definitely written by the same person. Same blue paper. Same blue envelope. Same threats—except that this one wasn’t just targeted at me or my daughter. What did the writer mean by saying I’d put even more people in danger? Who was he talking about?
I noticed that the envelope was a little worse for wear. It could have been on the floor for a couple of days. Perhaps it had been pushed under the door, either kicked into the corner unnoticed by a customer or blown there by the wind once the door was opened. I’d been at Ruth’s Thursday night and Cora had swept up. She probably would have noticed it. So that meant the note had been left sometime between late Thursday night and this afternoon. The man in the red cap had been found late last night. He could have brought it Thursday night or Friday before he died. It had to be from him. I couldn’t accept the alternative—that the writer was still a danger to me and those I loved.
I finished my cup of coffee and watched the storm outside gather in intensity as questions inside me raged as well. The man in the red cap was dead. He couldn’t hurt me anymore. Surely this note was the last one I’d ever receive. I suddenly remembered Charity’s words after her prayer. “God said to tell you not to be afraid anymore, Mama.” It sounded so simple. Of course, Charity didn’t understand how complicated life really was. All of the sudden something my grandmother used to say popped into my mind.
“God spent a lot of time in His Word telling us to ‘fear not,’ Lizzie. I truly don’t think He was just trying to fill up pages. Do you?”
“That sounds good, God,” I whispered into the darkened room, “but so far my life has been crammed full of things to be afraid of. How do I ignore them?” I shook my head. “I’m trying to trust you. I really am. Help me. Please.”
Then I remembered Cora’s visit. I’d forgotten it with the discovery of the note. She had gone to be with her sister and had turned the restaurant over to me! How in the world could I run it alone? Was there anyone else who could do a better job? There was Cora’s previous helper, Julie, but she wouldn’t be much help, since she and her husband were expecting a baby any day now. Maybe it would be better to close until Cora got back, but I’d promised her I’d keep the things going. Could I possibly pull it off now that I’d found the note? How would I ever be able to keep my mind on the restaurant?
I finished my coffee, made sure the front door was locked, and trudged upstairs. Sitting in our living room by the window, I pushed the note out of my thoughts and ran several scenarios for running the restaurant through my head. Shortly before midnight, I came to the surprising conclusion that I might actually have the expertise to make it work. My father had spent his life telling me I couldn’t accomplish anything, that I had no talents or gifts, but even though I tried to find a reason for failure, I could only see success.
There really wasn’t any aspect of the business I didn’t know. Besides waiting tables, I’d helped in the kitchen and knew almost all of Cora’s recipes. And those I wasn’t sure about were in a notebook kept in the kitchen. Cora had written them down for Julie, so she’d have them when Cora was away. By one o’clock in the morning, I had it worked out in my mind. Cora’s Corner Café would open Monday morning as scheduled, and I would keep it running until Cora came back.
After getting ready for bed, I searched for a place to hide the note, trying to push its dark threats out of my thoughts. If I could prove that the man in the red cap had written it, I might be able to dismiss it. Unfortunately, there was no way to be absolutely sure. Even more frightening was the thought that maybe his death wasn’t an accident. Was I missing something? Or someone? Who could possibly want the man dead, and why? Was my father involved, or someone else? Someone with a completely different motive?
Along with that mind-numbing possibility, I still wondered about the man and his hateful threats coming right before I’d lost my job. Could all these circumstances be related in some strange way? Try as I might, I couldn’t figure out how. It did seem extremely odd, though. The man finding me in Kingdom was another one of those coincidences that seemed to be questionable. I couldn’t make sense out of it and could feel the beginnings of a stress headache gripping my temples. Thinking about it wasn’t going to accomplish anything, so I tried to direct my thoughts toward the restaurant and my new responsibilities. However, an uneasy fear seemed to have burrowed its way into the pit of my stomach, and I was certain it had no plans to vacate anytime soon.
Sunday morning dawned frosty but bright. The sun was out, shining on a fresh layer of snow. I began to wonder if I’d ever see grass or dirt again. Since I’d arrived, Kingdom had been covered with snow. I fixed breakfast for Charity and me while wondering what was happening at the church. This was the morning of the big vote. I watched the street from the restaurant as I made notes for the upcoming week. Mother had mentioned a few days ago that she would try to come by today, since the restaurant was closed, and we could spend some time together undisturbed. Leaving the house on Sundays, other than for church, was frowned upon, so I wasn’t sure if her declaration was just false bravado. However, I hoped she’d come because she would know how to reach Callie about helping at the café. Besides, I wanted to learn the outcome of the voting.
It was almost two o’clock when the buggies began rattling down the street, the congregants heading home. It was much later than the normal dismissal time. I saw my parents ride past, my father urging Blackie faster than usual, but I wasn’t sure what that meant. I waited in the dining room, still praying Mother would come.
Finally, at almost three thirty, our buggy came up the street with Mother driving. I stepped out onto the porch and waited for her to tie up Blackie and come inside. As she got closer I could clearly see the unhappiness on her face.
“Come on in, Mother,” I said, holding the door open for her.
She walked into the closed restaurant and glanced around the room. “Where is Charity?” she asked in hushed tones.
“She’s down for a nap.”
Mother pulled me over to a table and sat down. “Today I experienced something in church I never want to go through again, Daughter. It was so distasteful.” She put her hand on her chest as if she were experiencing pain. “Perhaps you could pour me a cup of coffee before I tell you more? I need something to calm my nerves.”
My mother loved her coffee, and even though I’d told her more than once that coffee couldn’t actually produce a calming influence on the body, she wouldn’t abandon her insistence that it brought her peace when she was disturbed. I’d given up arguing with her.
I hurried into the kitchen. The coffee was still hot, since I’d been drinking it as I waited for her to arrive. It only took me a couple of minutes to return with her cup and a small container of cream.
She poured the cream into her coffee and then grabbed it like a lifeline. After a couple of sips, she put the cup down and sighed. “Pastor Mendenhall addressed the church after Communion and told them about the vote to remove him. He said that he only wanted God’s will and assured us that if he had betrayed our trust in any way, he was willing to step down without any further unpleasantness. He stated his view very simply but eloquently. He believes that in the past we have been too strict with one another. He reminded us that God is a loving God, full of grace and compassion, yet during the past several years there have been too many people pushed out of the church because they broke the rules we imposed on them. Instead, he said, we should have extended love and forgiveness toward our hurting brothers and sisters.”
She blinked rapidly and her voice broke. “He looked right at me, Elizabeth Lynn. I believe you are one of the people he was thinking about.”
“I appreciate that. Pastor Mendenhall was always kind to me. After I got pregnant he went out of his way to tell me if I needed anything I could come to him. I guess he meant it.”
“Yes,” she said, nodding. “I truly believe he did.” She wrung her hands together several times before picking up her cup once more. Instead of taking a drink, she just held it. “After that he called for a vote. Slips of paper were passed out, and we were told to write Stay or Go. Pastor asked that the slips be given to the men and the women.
“Your father stood up and asked for a chance to speak first. Pastor Mendenhall agreed and gave him the pulpit. Matthew announced that the women’s votes would not count, as far as he was concerned, and then he went on for about twenty minutes, expounding his view that righteousness is produced by our stringent adherence to the regulations handed down by the elders. He lambasted our pastor, saying that he had been infected by the world, and that he was opposing the founders of Kingdom. That the purpose of our town was being corrupted. He accused Pastor Mendenhall of seeking members but not holding to sound doctrine.”
She shook her head. “You may not realize it, but many people have left our congregation with your father’s sanction. Pastor has worked hard to bring them back. Some have come. Some have not. Your father would turn his back on all who have left, choosing to see them as apostate. He faults the pastor for seeking their hearts.”
She sighed deeply. “All I could think about was the passage in Luke where the Lord says he came to seek and save the lost.” Mother reached up and removed her bonnet, smoothing her salt-and-pepper hair with trembling hands. “How can seeking the restoration of our brothers and sisters be wrong? As your father spoke, it became clearer and clearer to me how wrong he is.”
She cast her eyes up toward me. “I hate to say this, Daughter, but I was . . . embarrassed by him. I have never said that about my husband before, but I must speak the truth.”
“It’s all right, Mother. You have the right to your feelings. I like hearing what you think.”
She took another deep breath and let it out slowly. “Well, your father does not share your opinion. He would rather I stay quiet.”
“Go on. What happened next?”
“After your father finished, the vote was taken.” Her smile was tremulous. “The people voted overwhelmingly in favor of keeping Pastor Mendenhall. Women and men both. Only five voted against him.”
I frowned at her. “But what about Father’s supporters? Surely there were more than that. At the very least, there are two other elders besides Father who left their positions. If all of their wives voted . . .” I stopped and stared at her. “You voted for Pastor to stay, didn’t you?”
Mother raised her chin. “Yes, I did. And it felt good, Lizzie. Someone wanted my opinion, and I gave it.”
“Does Father know?”
“I have no idea, but I am sure he suspects.” She stared into her coffee cup. “He did not speak to me all the way home. I have never seen him so angry. He went straight into the bedroom and shut the door without even asking for lunch. After waiting a while, I left and did not tell him where I was going.”
“I’m sorry he’s upset, Mother, but he brought this on himself. His attitude is finally having consequences. It’s very difficult for me to feel sorry for him.”
“I know, and I would not expect you to. But you know, even though I must stand against his views in this, I do feel compassion for him. His father molded him into the man he is. When we courted and were first married, Matthew was a very different person. Loving and sweet. And very thoughtful. But the seeds of anger sown in his heart by your grandfather could not hold back an evil crop, and eventually your father became what he is today.” She shook her head slowly. “I so miss the man he used to be. His tender touches and the sweet things he did for me.” She blinked back tears that resisted her efforts. “He would bring me flowers, Lizzie. He would gather wildflowers and bring them home to me, just like you used to. If only he could find that man inside him again. It would change everything.”
I reached over and put my hand on her arm. “How long can we blame Father’s choices on someone else?” I asked gently.
She turned her grief-stricken face to me. “How long will you blame your father for yours, Elizabeth?”
I dropped my hand. “That’s not fair, Mother.”
“Yes, it is, Daughter. I think it is very fair.”
I leaned back in my chair. “Wow, when you start speaking your mind, you go full steam ahead, don’t you? Couldn’t you ease into this a little slower?”
A burst of laughter bubbled up out of her. “Oh, Lizzie. You have a way of making me laugh when I have no plans to do so.”
I smiled at her. “And of course you’re right, Mother. I’ll have to work on my attitude, I guess.” I felt as if I’d turned a corner the other night when I’d prayed, but my mother was correct in her assessment. I still had a deep and abiding bitterness toward my father. Forgiving him would be difficult, but I knew it was necessary before I could heal completely.
“It makes me happy to hear you to say this, Lizzie. I hope our church members will join me in praying for your father. He needs all the help heaven can give him. Even with everything he has done, I feel the man I married is still somewhere inside him. Trapped, but wanting to come back to me. I’ve seen it in his eyes.”
She pushed her cup toward me. “Now, I would like another cup of coffee, if you don’t mind. And I believe I would like to have a rather late lunch with my daughter and granddaughter.”
“That sounds wonderful,” I said “but first I need to talk to you about something.”
“Of course. What is troubling you?”
“Have you heard about the man they found dead on the road to Kingdom?”
She nodded. “Terrible. I understand he pulled his car off the road and then tumbled down the ravine. It is such a dangerous place. Our citizens know how treacherous it is. But this stranger did not and paid dearly for his mistake.” Her forehead furrowed. “But what does this have to do with you?”
“Mother, that was the man who was following me. The man who stalked me in Kansas City.”
Her eyebrows shot up with surprise. “I had no idea. But what does this mean, Daughter?”
“I wish I knew. The sheriff was here. At first he acted as if there might be some kind of foul play. Then suddenly he seemed to change his mind and said that the man likely slipped down the ravine and struck his head on the rocks. That his death was accidental. But I don’t know . . .”
“Any man’s death is a tragedy,” Mother said, a strange look on her face. “But you are concerned that something untoward occurred in this instance?”
“Maybe. I . . . I don’t trust the sheriff. I got the feeling he wasn’t really interested in finding out the truth.”
Mother nodded. “He does not have a good reputation among our citizens. We try to involve him as little as possible in our affairs.” She frowned at me. “Is there any other reason you have to doubt his conclusion?”
I hesitated a moment before blurting out my concerns. “That man died not long after the elders were informed about his pursuit of me.”
Her eyes widened, but she didn’t respond.
I hesitated a moment before shaking my head. “I’m sorry, Mother. Now that I say it out loud, I realize how ridiculous it sounds. I know there are some in the church who may think differently than others about certain things, but all Mennonites are committed to peace. And the Ten Commandments are followed without exception. I was foolish for allowing something so silly into my thoughts. I guess I was just concerned by the timing.”
Mother was silent as she stared at her coffee cup. I couldn’t shake the feeling that she was keeping something from me. But what was it?
“So now what will you do?” she asked finally.
“Nothing. I’ve thought about taking Charity and leaving town. Afraid this man will be linked to me in some way and that his death will lead the police in Kansas City here to Kingdom. But the truth is, I have no way of knowing if they’re even looking for me. Or if this incident will turn up on their radar. As awful as is sounds—”
“This unfortunate event may be your way out? Because of this terrible situation you may be able to stay here?”
Even though Mother said the words softly, they still sounded dreadful. Yet they were exactly what I’d been thinking. I nodded slightly. “I hate to think I might profit from the death of another human being, but the truth is, it’s entirely possible. His harassment of me is definitely over.” The newest note popped into my mind, but I decided not to mention it to my mother. She didn’t need anything else to worry about.
“But he could have reported your whereabouts to someone else. Is that not correct?”
“Yes, but no one’s shown up. It’s been days since I first saw him here. Why hasn’t anyone come?”
Mother shook her head. “Is there no way you can find out what is going on in Kansas City, Lizzie? No one you can call? No one you can trust?”
“I . . . I thought so, but since that man showed up, I have to admit that I’m not sure anymore. How did he know I was here?” I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I don’t think it’s smart to contact Meghan. She may have said something that led him here. I can’t take any chances. The only other person I trust is recovering from a heart attack, and I won’t bother her about this. It might impede her recovery.”
Mother sighed. “Then all we can do is pray that this is finally at an end, and I will certainly do so. I do not want you to leave me ever again, Daughter.” Her voice broke. “I could not bear losing you and Charity a second time.”
I wanted to promise her we would stay, but I couldn’t. Not yet. “Well, we’re here for now, Mother. Let’s enjoy our time together. All right?”
She nodded, but the look on her face made me ache inside. When I’d left Kingdom five years ago, my concerns had been for myself and my child. I knew my mother would be hurt, but I hadn’t fully counted the cost of her loss. I felt a strong desire to see joy on her face again. With God’s help, I hoped I’d get that chance.
“Was there anything else you wanted to talk about?” Mother asked as she took another sip of coffee.
“Yes.” I tried to gather the courage to tell her something she wouldn’t be happy to hear. “Clay came to see me, Mother.”
She almost dropped her cup. It hit the table with a thud, spilling coffee over the side. “Cl-Clay Troyer? He . . . he’s back?”
I quickly told her about his visit while I wiped up the spilled coffee. “I haven’t called him yet. He said if he didn’t hear from me by tonight, he’d leave and never come back.”
“Oh, Lizzie. His parents . . . I mean, they actually asked you to destroy your child. For money. The evil that resides behind a request like that . . . I cannot advise you to let these people back in your life.”
“You don’t have to worry about that. Clay’s father is dead, and even though his mother wants to see Charity, I have no intention of allowing it. Clay seems to want to do the right thing, Mother. How can I deny him the chance to prove himself?”
She shook her head. “I was very disappointed in him when he deserted you, Lizzie. Yet deep in my heart, I rejoiced that he and his family were out of our lives. I can’t advise you here. You need to seek God’s wisdom in this matter.”
“I have.”
My mother’s eyes widened. “You are praying again, Daughter?”
I smiled at her. “I am praying again, Mother.”
Tears filled her eyes, already reddened by weeping. “This is the best news anyone on this earth will ever give me,” she sobbed. She reached out and took my hands. “God is so faithful. Please do not judge Him by the mistakes your parents have made. I could not bear the guilt in my soul for your decision to turn away from Him. A mother’s heart cannot bear this responsibility.”
“You were never responsible for that,” I said softly. “Quite the opposite. You and Grandmother planted the seeds in my heart that whispered to me in the night. If you both hadn’t laid a good foundation, I may not have ever found my way back to God. Please never doubt that for a moment.”
She scooted her chair closer and put her arms around me, crying quietly. Finally she straightened up. “My soul exceedingly rejoices.”
I smiled at her. “I’m glad.”
She finally let me go, a look of happiness on her face. I cleared my throat and hesitated, not wanting to chase away the moment, but I had to know the truth. “Clay told me that he wrote to me, Mother, not knowing I wasn’t here anymore. Is that true?”
She didn’t answer right away. I hoped against hope that Clay hadn’t lied. If he really had sent letters, it would be the proof I needed to believe he was sincere.
Finally she nodded. “Yes, he wrote to you. I never actually read the letters, Lizzie. Your father took them. As far as I know, he did not read them either.”
“So Clay was telling the truth,” I said slowly, letting this new revelation sink in.
“This does not mean it is God’s will for you to take up with this man again,” Mother warned. “You must turn this over to God and ask His counsel. Do not jump into anything without His wisdom. Please, Daughter. I worry about your happiness as well as Charity’s.”
“I understand,” I said, although I truly believed my mother had just delivered the answer I’d been seeking. Clay cared about me. He’d always wanted to be with me. Maybe Charity would finally get the father she wanted. I stood to my feet. “I’ll get lunch ready right away. Charity has already eaten, so we’ll let her sleep a little longer. If she’s not up soon, I’ll wake her so you can spend time with her before you leave.”
“Can I help you?”
“No, it will only take me a minute.” I was on the way to the kitchen before I remembered my other news. I stopped and turned back to look at her, catching her distressed expression. Obviously, my news about Clay was as unwelcome as I’d suspected it would be. “Mother, I almost forgot to tell you. Cora’s left town. Her sister is ill, and she’s gone to be with her. I have no idea when she’ll be back. She suggested I ask Callie Hoffman to help out in the restaurant until she returns. Do you know where the Hoffmans live? Can you contact Callie for me?”
“Oh, Lizzie,” Mother said. “Will you be all right? Can you keep the restaurant going without Cora?”
I shrugged. “I don’t have much choice. Cora can’t lose the income, and I need a place to live and food to feed Charity. So for as long as it takes, I’ll be running things.”
“I wish I could help you,” she said.
I chuckled. “Yeah, Father would really like that. Might be all it takes to really make him blow his top.”
“Well, perhaps I can help you indirectly in some way.”
Her offer touched me, but she was already defying my father by stepping foot in the restaurant. “Let’s wait and see what happens. I don’t want to do anything that would cause further strife between you and Father.”
The look of disappointment on her face distressed me. “How about this? When you come to visit, you can watch Charity. Keep her occupied. I can’t tell you how much that would help.”
“I would be happy to do that, Daughter, and on the way home I will stop by the Hoffmans and inform Callie that you need her assistance.”
“Thank you, Mother. I’ll have lunch ready in a jiffy.”
“Lizzie,” she said, drawing out my name slowly.
“Yes?”
“That man. The one who died?”
I waited for her to finish, but as I stood there, I realized that my mother was afraid of something. I’d seen it in her eyes ever since I’d told her that the dead man had turned out to be my stalker.
“Wh-when did the man die?” she asked.
“I don’t know. The sheriff didn’t say. Why?”
She shook her head and wouldn’t look at me.
A cold chill ran through my body. “Mother, I must know why you’re asking.”
“I do not want you to jump to conclusions.”
I walked back toward the table where she sat. “You’re scaring me. Tell me what you’re thinking.”
“The other night when your father drove to Washington to see if the man who was following you might be staying there . . .”
“Yes? What about it?”
She clasped her hands together and leaned her forehead against them. “When I washed the clothes your father wore that night I found . . . something.” She put one hand loosely over her mouth and stared at me, fear in her eyes. “Oh, Elizabeth. There was blood on his clothes. I am so afraid. Could your father’s anger have led him to actually take a life?”