Redeeming Grace. Emma Miller

she might lift off the floor and float to the ceiling. This good woman, this Hannah believed her! They didn’t think she was a con artist. Giddy and light-headed, she took the chair that Hannah offered. “Could you tell him I’m here?” she asked again in a breathless voice. “My father?”

      “Did your mother send you to find him?” Hannah asked, a little bit like the way the police asked questions. Grace had never been questioned by the police, but her Joe had. Many times.

      Grace shook her head. “She died when I was eleven. She never told me anything about her past. A friend of hers, Marg, told me what little bit I know. She and my mother danced...worked together in Reno. Trudie and me moved around a lot, but she and Marg shared a trailer once when I was little.”

      “Your mother?” Hannah asked. “You called her Trudie?” Lines of disapproval crinkled at the corners of her brown eyes.

      Grace nodded. “Trudie was nineteen when I was born, but she looked younger. She never wanted me to call her Mom. She said we were girlfriends, more like sisters. I think it was so guys—other people—wouldn’t guess her real age. She was pretty, not like me. She had the most beautiful blond hair and a good figure.”

      “Verhuddelt.” The older woman muttered as she retrieved the ball of yarn that had fallen out of her lap and rolled across the floor. “Such a mother.”

      “No,” Grace protested. “She took good care of me. I never went hungry or anything.” Well, not really hungry, she thought. Memories of sour milk and stale pizza washed over her, and she banished them to the dark corners in her mind. Trudie had always done her best, and she hadn’t run out on her like some other moms. Grace had heard lots of horror stories from the kids she’d met in the Nevada foster homes where the state had stashed her after her mother died. Raising a child alone was hard—Grace had learned that lesson well enough. She wasn’t going to let anybody bad-mouth Trudie.

      “She did the best she could,” Grace said. “She was smart, too, even if she didn’t have much education. She could speak German,” she added. “When she was mad, she always used to...” She trailed off, remembering that the angry shouts had probably not been nice words.

      “I’m sorry that your mother passed.” Hannah sat down and reached out to Dakota. “Here, let me hold him. Rebecca, could you get that cocoa? And hand that blanket to Grace.”

      The sister named Susanna offered a big cookie.

      Dakota shyly accepted it, but bit off a big bite.

      “Remember your manners,” Grace chided, accepting the blanket and wrapping it around her shoulders. She was so cold, she was shivering. “Don’t gobble like a turkey. You’ll choke.”

      Susanna giggled. “Like a turkey,” she repeated.

      Dakota nestled down in Hannah’s lap, almost as if he knew her. His eyelids were heavy. Grace was surprised he’d been able to stay awake so late.

      Hannah ran her fingers through Dakota’s thick dark hair. “How old is he?”

      “Three. He was three in January.”

      “His father?”

      “Dead.”

      “He’s little for three,” Aunt Jezzy observed.

      “But he’s strong. He was always a good baby, and he’s hardly ever sick. His father wasn’t a big man.” Grace looked into Hannah’s eyes and tried to keep from trembling. “Could you tell Jonas I’m here? Please. I’ve come a long way to find him.”

      “How did you get all the way from Nebraska to Pennsylvania? Do you have a car?” Hannah asked.

      Grace sighed. Her father’s wife was stalling, but she didn’t want to be rude. After all, Hannah had let her into the house and hadn’t kicked her out when Grace told her who she was. “We had a car, but the transmission went out on the Pennsylvania Turnpike. It wasn’t worth fixing, so we left it.” She looked down at the floor. No use in telling them that the insurance had run out two weeks ago and that she had barely enough money for food and gas to get them to Belleville, let alone repair a 1996 Plymouth with a leaking radiator and 191,000 miles on it.

      “So you went on to Belleville and then came here looking for Jonas?” Hannah looked thoughtful.

      “I’m not asking for money. I don’t want anything from him or from any of you. I just want to meet him.” Grace chewed on her lower lip. “Since Trudie died, I haven’t had any family.” She hung her head. “Not really.” She looked up again. “So, I thought that if I found my father...maybe...” Her throat tightened and she could feel a prickling sensation behind her eyelids. Grace took a deep breath. She didn’t need to tell her father’s wife the whole story. She’d save it for him. She looked right at Hannah. “I need to talk to my father. Please,” she added firmly.

      Hannah clasped a hand over her mouth and made a small sound of distress. “Oh, child.” She closed her eyes for a second and hugged Dakota. “Oh, my poor Grace. It pains me to tell you that your father...Jonas...he died four years ago of a heart attack.”

      Grace stared at her in disbelief. Thank goodness she was sitting down; her legs felt a little weak. Dead? After she’d come so far to find him? How was that possible? Bad things come in threes, and if you don’t expect much out of life, you won’t be disappointed. Her mother always said that. But the awful words Hannah had just spoken were almost more than she could bear.

      Her father was dead, too?

      Dear God, Grace thought, how could You let this happen? First my mother, then Joe and now my father. Now she was glad they hadn’t eaten since her breakfast of Tastykakes. If she had anything in her stomach, it would be coming up.

      “I’m so sorry,” Hannah said. “It must be a terrible shock to you. We’ve all had time to get used to Jonas’s passing. We miss him terribly. He was a good man, your father, the best husband in the world.”

      “Not so good as we thought, that nephew of mine,” Aunt Jezzy observed, more to herself than the others. “Not if he fathered a child and didn’t take responsibility for her.”

      “Hush, now, Aunt Jezzy,” Hannah softly chided. “We shouldn’t judge him. Jonas was a good man, but he was human, as we all are.” She kept her gaze fixed on Dakota’s sweet face. “He told me that he and Trudie Schrock had made a mistake, and that he’d repented of what he’d done. She left, suddenly, without telling him. No one knew where she went. She just left a note, telling her father that she didn’t want to be Plain anymore. Jonas never knew about you,” she told Grace, lifting her gaze. “You have my word on it.”

      Grace nodded, trying to get her bearings again. Trying hard not to cry. What was she going to do now? Her whole plan had been based on getting to her father. She was going to come to him, tell him the mistakes she’d made and beg him to let her into his life. She was going to promise to make only good choices from now on, to find a good man who wouldn’t lie to her and deceive her. She was going to tell him she wanted to become—

      “So.” Hannah smiled at her with tears in her eyes. “What do we do now, you and me? Where do we start, Grace Yoder?”

      Grace felt shaky, her mind racing. What did she want the Yoders to do with her? What was her plan B?

      Joe always said you had to have a plan B. “Maybe I could have that cup of coffee?”

      Hannah chuckled. “You have your father’s good sense, Grace. Of course you shall have your coffee, and the soup I promised. Then we’ll all take ourselves off to bed. You’ll stay here tonight, and I won’t hear any arguments. I’ll put you and Dakota in the guest bedroom.”

      “You’ll just let me stay?” Grace asked, truly surprised by Hannah’s kindness. Especially after the news Grace had just dumped in her lap about her husband. “You don’t know me. I could be a thief or an ax murderer.”

      Hannah smiled at her. “I doubt that, not if you’re

      Jonas’s