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I didn’t tease him. He worked hard, and his lean, muscled body was a testament to the fact that he needed fuel to get all the necessary chores done on his large fruit farm. He prayed, thanking God for the day and for the food on the table. Then we dug in. I glanced around the restaurant and noticed several other people praying over their food. I hadn’t witnessed much public praying in Wichita, but it was par for the course in Harmony.
    As always, the chicken was crisp and buttery tasting, the whipped potatoes and gravy thick and creamy, and the green beans with bacon and onions were delicious. I took several bites while I built up the courage to ask Sam the question I’d wanted to ask ever since I got home.
    “So did you spend any time with Pat while I was gone?” I said finally. Immediately I felt an emotional door slam shut.
    The smile slipped from Sam’s face. “You know we’re very busy in the orchards right now.”
    “You’re not so busy you couldn’t have found a couple of hours to spend with your father.”
    Sam took a sip of coffee then put his cup down with a thud. “Look, Grace. You just got back. We’ll talk about it at some point but not today, okay?”
    “You said that before I left. There never seems to be a right time to discuss Pat.”
    “He abandoned me and my mother.”
    “For crying out loud, Sam. He didn’t even know your mother was pregnant. How is that abandoning her?”
    He brushed away a lock of hair that had fallen over one eye. “Well, he certainly didn’t check to find out, did he? He took advantage of her, and then he was gone.”
    We’d been over this more than once. Sam seemed to judge his father by his own standards. “I get it, but as I’ve said before, neither one of them were living for God.” I knew this was difficult for him and tried to keep my tone as gentle as possible. Truth was, his attitude frustrated me. “Even so, I don’t believe your father would have left had he known your mom was expecting.” I reached across the table and took Sam’s hand. “It was your mother’s responsibility to tell him, but she didn’t. And remember, when she contacted him a couple of years ago, he immediately set out to find you. He even gave up an important job he loved to become sheriff of a rural county where most of the time the biggest crime he faces is chicken stealing.”
    Sam pulled his hand back, and a frown creased his handsome face. “Right. Except he waited for over a year to tell me who he was. And actually, he didn’t even tell me. You figured it out.”
    Sam scooped another big helping of mashed potatoes onto his plate, a signal that our conversation had ended.
    I couldn’t help but sigh with frustration. Sheriff Pat Taylor became my friend last year during a particularly trying time. In fact, he’d saved my life. Through a series of incidents, I’d discovered he was Sam’s real father. Since then, Pat had done everything possible to forge a relationship with his son. But Sam’s resistance had stalled their connection and when they were together, the tension was palpable. Before I picked up my fork, I let out another deep sigh.
    Sam stopped eating and scowled at me. “For goodness’ sake, Grace. If you keep that up, you’ll hyperventilate. We’ll sit down sometime this week and have a long discussion about Pat if it will keep you conscious. Okay?”
    I waved my fork at him. “Very clever. You know my folks will be here, and you’re counting on my being too busy to talk to you.” I jabbed my fork at him like a pointer. “It won’t work. I’ll definitely find the time. You’ve got to figure this out before the wedding. Your father should be sitting on your side of the church. He’s family, you know.”
    For the first time since we’d begun this uncomfortable conversation, Sam grinned. “Oh sure. And I suppose you’re planning to sit him down right next to Sweetie?”
    Touché. If Sam’s acceptance of his father was minimal, Sweetie’s was