When Grace Sings by Kim Vogel Sawyer Read Free Book Online Page B

stuffed the apple into his mouth.
    The elder Brungardt turned to his son. “Are you finished with your breakfast?”
    “Yes.”
    “Let’s get our things and head to the farmstead, then.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    Briley observed the younger man out of the corner of his eye. He was so polite. So serious. Maybe even a little resigned.
    Mrs. Zimmerman said, “My son doesn’t plan to meet you at the property until after lunch. You can stay here and relax until then, if you like.”
    Both men stood and pushed in their chairs. The father said, “It’s been a long time since we were there, so I’m eager to see how the house and outbuildings look.” He flung his arm around his son’s shoulders, smiling for the first time since Briley entered the room. “We want to make sure the roof hasn’t caved in and the walls still stand.”
    “Clete has maintained the property, the way his father taught him.” Mrs. Zimmerman lifted her chin. “He wouldn’t have watched everything fall apart without contacting you. He’s a responsible renter.”
    Briley surveyed Brungardt’s face for signs of resentment. According to his research, the Amish and Mennonite were nonconfrontational, but Mrs. Zimmerman had come close to issuing a challenge. Would Brungardt meet it?
    The man waved one broad hand in dismissal. “Of course he is, Mrs. Zimmerman. I wouldn’t expect anything less from Cecil Zimmerman’s son. But as I said, we haven’t been there in more than a dozen years. Things change in that amount of time, and if Steven is going to live in the house, then—”
    “
Live
in it?” If Mrs. Zimmerman was able, Briley suspected she’d leap out of the chair and grab the man by his shirtfront. Her startled gaze bounced from the pair of Mennonite men to Alexa and back to the elder Brungardt. “But what of the land? Clete grows wheat there every year. We depend on that acreage.”
    The Brungardt son hung his head. The father’s face pinched into a grimace of regret. He patted his son’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Zimmerman, but the land belongs to Steven now. That’s what we wanted to talk to Cletus about. Steven will be farming it from now on.”
    Mrs. Zimmerman stared at the man with her mouth open. Alexa croucheddown and whispered something into her ear while the two Brungardt men shifted from foot to foot, clearly uncomfortable.
    Briley sipped his tepid coffee, his mind whirling. What an interesting turn of events. Might he have arrived in Arborville in time to see a feud erupt between supposedly nonconfrontational people?

Steven
    If the floor opened up and swallowed him, Steven wouldn’t complain. Standing there with Dad’s arm heavy on his shoulders, Mrs. Zimmerman whispering frantic messages to her granddaughter, and the man from Chicago smirking into his coffee cup, he’d never been more uncomfortable.
God, I’m supposed to be able to do all things through Christ who gives me strength. Why can’t I find the courage to tell Dad I don’t want to be a farmer like him?
    He nudged his father. “Let’s get our things and go.” He’d spoken softly—hardly more than a whisper—but apparently Mrs. Zimmerman heard because she jerked upright in her wheelchair and aimed a determined look at him.
    “Take Alexa with you.”
    He hadn’t expected such a command. But he understood why she’d given it. He’d noticed how the Chicago reporter looked at Alexa, and he’d also seen how Mrs. Zimmerman looked at the reporter. Mrs. Zimmerman didn’t want Alexa near the man. Steven wanted to take her along. They’d leave for home after meeting with Cletus Zimmerman, so he wouldn’t get another chance to ask her about living outside a closed community. He’d hoped to talk to her after they arrived last night, but Dad ushered him up to their room, and they stayed there until breakfast. The opportunity presenting itself was too good to pass up, but he couldn’t be the one to agree. Dad would have to do it.
    Dad cleared his throat.