A Secret Identity by Gayle Roper

giving him. “It’s how he—”
    “Your son has gotten the punishment of God for his actions. Do not use him as an excuse for your own behavior or God’s hand might smite you.”
    What? Was Big Nate, whoever he was, saying that Jake’s accident was punishment meted out by God? And that by letting Jake rent me the apartment, John might have something terrible happen to him? I couldn’t believe the man’s gall, and I guess John couldn’t either because there was a moment of silence below.
    “Big Nate, we do not agree here,” John finally said. “It would be better if we did not speak of it.”
    It was as if Big Nate didn’t hear John. “It is bad enough that you bring in phone and electricity for him. Do you now bring in women for him?”
    My spine snapped straight. Wait one minute! That is my reputation he is impugning!
    “Big Nate!” Mary sounded appalled. “You should be ashamed thinking we would allow something like that in our home.”
    “Mary, be still. Let me.” John’s voice was gentle.
    “Well, who is she?” Big Nate had the grace to sound a little less critical, but the edge was still there. It occurred to me that he was speaking in English instead of Pennsylvania Dutch, and Mary and John were automatically responding in kind. Why English? Did Big Nate hope I heard? Was that why he spoke so loudly?
    I heard the front screen door open. “I thank you for your concern for us and our family,” John said. “We will see you again soon, I’m sure.”
    “I am not through here,” Big Nate protested.
    “Good night, Big Nate. Mary has had a long day and needs to get her rest. She’ll be putting up strawberries tomorrow, and you know how tiring that is.”
    Probably not. I was sure the old Scrooge had never lifted a finger in the kitchen in his life. I could hear his angry footfalls as he stomped across the porch and down the steps.
    “I’m sorry.” It was such a soft whisper, a mere breath of sound, that I barely heard it.
    “Don’t be upset, Martha,” Mary said. “We understand that Big Nate speaks for himself, not you or the rest of the people.”
    “I begged him not to come, but he said if your buggy was here, it was God’s will he confront you. Still, he knows you aren’t doing anything like…like—” She didn’t seem able to finish the thought.
    Thank goodness one of them was sane.
    “Shhh,” Mary soothed. “You’d better go. He’s waiting.”
    The screen door opened and closed again, and there was silence until the noise of a buggy jingling and hooves clomping indicated Big Nate and Martha had pulled out of the drive.
    “Oh, John!” Mary’s voice was unsteady.
    “Shush, my Mary. We must not let a man like Big Nate upset us. I do not regret that we gave Jake our approval to use his empty second story.”
    “I’m not worried about having another tenant here. I was thinking about something else. What if Big Nate finds out about my painting? He would love to make trouble for us, and Kristie and my painting would be his opportunity.”
    “Are you going to tell him you paint and sell pictures?” John asked.
    “Never!”
    “And neither am I. So there is no way he will find out.”
    “And I’m not telling him either,” came a third voice, Jake’s voice, vibrating with intensity. “I ask you, with men like that in the church, why would I ever want to return?”
    “Jake.” Mary’s voice was steeped in sorrow and hurt.
    “Don’t ask me to be nice about him, Mom. If he somehow learned about what you and Kristie are doing, he’d come down on you like a ton of bricks.”
    “We will not talk of him,” John said. “He’s a man who has lost his son, and he cannot forgive us for having ours still.”
    “He didn’t have to lose Davy.” Jake’s anger reached up the stairs and curled around me where I sat. “He sent him away!”
    “Davy had to be shunned, Jake. You know that.” John was obviously going over material covered many times before.
    “Just because he