Free Simple Choices by Nancy Mehl Page B

and looked into his face. Didn’t he know me?
    “I’m aware that it’s Gracie, Daniel,” he responded brusquely. “I haven’t completely lost my mind.”
    My father shot me a quick look. He was obviously concerned, and I felt the same way. The last time I’d seen Papa Joe, I couldn’t get him to talk to me at all. He’d just stared at me as if he’d never seen me before. I’m no expert on Alzheimer’s, but I’d read that people can suddenly seem to snap out of it, and then without warning, retreat behind that black curtain again. Could that be what worried my father?
    “Let’s get you inside,” I said, taking his hand. “I’ll bet you’d like to rest a bit before dinner.”
    He took his hand from mine and wrapped it around my arm for more support. “I am a little tired,” he confessed. “It was a long drive.” He suddenly stopped and stared at the house. “Oh my,” he whispered. I looked into his face and saw tears well up in his eyes.
    “What is it, Papa?”
    “I wondered if I’d ever get to see this place again.” His eyes scanned the house and the yard. He pointed to the flower bed surrounded by bricks in the middle of the front yard. “Essie’s irises,” he said, choking up. He swung his gaze back to me. “Thank you for keeping this place, my darling Gracie. Thank you for letting me come home.”
    I hugged him, too emotional to speak. But in my heart I thanked God for guiding me to my decision to stay in Harmony so I could be a part of this moment. What if I’d sold the house the way I’d originally planned?
    I saw my father wiping his eyes. My mother grabbed his arm and helped him up the steps and into the house. Papa, Sam, and I followed behind them. Thankfully, except for a few changes, I’d kept the inside as close to the way I’d found it as possible. Papa Joe stopped at the large cherry secretary and ran his hands over it.
    “This is where I work, Papa.” I opened the rolled top to show him my keyboard that pulled out on a sliding shelf. I also opened the cabinet doors so he could see my flat-panel monitor. Sam had removed one of the shelves so it would fit inside. He’d also added the sliding shelf. I loved the old secretary and was happy I could use it as a work space without compromising the integrity of the design. I’d purchased a padded antique chair that matched the secretary as if it had been made for it. My CPU was tucked away between the side of the secretary and the wall so it wasn’t noticeable.
    “It’s beautiful, Gracie,” Papa said, his voice so soft I could barely hear him. Then he made his way over to the rocking chair my uncle had crafted. He stared at it a few moments before lowering himself into it. “Benjamin made this, didn’t he?”
    “Yes, Papa. In fact, Harmony is full of his rocking chairs, birdhouses, and bird feeders.”
    He smiled. “I taught him how to build those things. We used to work on them together. I’m glad he kept at it. He was very clever with his hands.”
    “Papa, why don’t you stay there while Sam and I carry our luggage upstairs?” my dad said.
    “I’ve got some cider in the refrigerator,” I said. “I’ll get everyone a glass while you’re doing that.”
    “Sounds great.” My father looked at Sam. “Maybe you’ll help me get the bags from the car? Then we can get them into the appropriate rooms.”
    “Daniel Temple, you are not carrying suitcases up the stairs,” my mother said sharply. “The doctor told you to rest that leg. Sam looks quite capable of getting our luggage by himself.”
    “Of course. I’d be happy to,” Sam said with a smile.
    My father grunted. “I guess working on a farm means he should be capable of manual labor.” He glared at my mother. “I’ll go out and show him what to bring in if that’s acceptable to you.”
    “Of course it is. And maybe you can work on your attitude while you’re out there.”
    My dad didn’t say another word, just headed toward the front door. My