Tags:
Fiction,
General,
Romance,
Man-Woman Relationships,
Christian fiction,
Religious,
Christian,
Secrecy,
Kansas,
Mennonites,
Harmony (Kan.: Imaginary Place)
careless actions have cost me. But there are many more days when I love him as much or more than I did when we were children.
With apprehension I turned the second page over and read further.
Now, dear niece, I am forced to turn my secret over to you. You must decide what to do with it. Should you call the police, my brother will probably be arrested for murder. Should you keep this horrible secret, you may suffer the same fate I have—life in Harmony, protecting the land that holds the proof of my brother’s dreadful deed.
Forgive me for passing this terrible legacy along to you. I realize it is unfair, but I did not know what else to do. I could not die with this unconfessed sin on my conscience. Perhaps I forfeited my life on earth to protect my family, but I am too weak to forfeit eternity.
Please know that I have prayed earnestly for you.
Your loving uncle, Benjamin Temple
My fingers trembled so much as I attempted to refold the horrible letter, I dropped it on the floor. All I could do was stare at it. It couldn’t be true. It had to be the rantings of a man sick not only in his body but also in his soul.
I tried to figure out what to do next. Should I call my father and read the letter to him? But what if Benjamin was telling the truth? I knew my dad. If he thought he’d really caused the death of another human being, he would contact the authorities. And then what? Would he go to prison? And what about my mom? The cancer that had tried to take her life was in remission. Would the stress cause it to return? And what if I decided to keep this secret to myself? Burn the letter and leave town without revealing Benjamin’s secret? Someday, someone would probably find Jacob Glick’s body. Would they tie it to us? Even though confusion jumbled my thoughts, I attempted to think the situation through. This property had been in my father’s family for several generations. Glick’s death would certainly be blamed on a Temple. Would it be Benjamin? For a moment, the idea of pointing the finger at him seemed to be a way out. But if the body was identified, my father would realize the truth and take responsibility for it. Of that I was certain.
My legs felt like lead. I couldn’t move. Suddenly, an odd noise from outside caught my attention. What was it? Again, a scratching sound near the window drew my eyes there. I got up slowly, actually stepping on the letter, and crossed the room. I moved the curtain aside and looked out. I couldn’t see anything, but another sound—a bumping noise—came from the other side of the house. I quickly realized how incredibly vulnerable I was.
I ran to my purse and pulled out my cell phone. Although it was almost out of power, there was still a little juice left in it. I quickly punched in 911, not knowing if emergency services even existed out here. All I got was a series of beeps telling me I didn’t have enough power to make this call—or any call. I could run out to my car and drive to Sam’s, but I had no intention of exposing myself to the darkness—and whatever waited outside.
It was entirely possible that the noises I heard belonged to an animal—but what kind of animal? I knew that in Kansas I wouldn’t have to contend with a bear or a lion, but there were other things to consider. Like packs of wild dogs that banded together after their owners dumped them in the country. And rabid smaller animals that would attack humans if they felt threatened.
And of course, there was the possibility that whatever waited outside was altogether too human. Someone who knew there was a woman alone in this house without any way to get help.
I checked the front and back doors, making certain they were locked. Then I sat down on the couch and wrapped myself up in the quilt that lay over the back. Probably another one of Mama Essie’s. “I need a hug, Mama,” I whispered. As I sat there shaking, I put my trust in the only One who could really help me now. I repeated the