Cruel Harvest by Fran Elizabeth Grubb

the world had stopped moving. I listened to a man’s voice on my answering machine.
    â€œI am not sure this is the right number, but I believe you are my aunt Frances,” a deep male voice said. “My name is Tony. I think my dad is your older brother Jimmy. We live in Greenville.”
    When he said that, I felt my soul stir. Something wonderful happened inside me. I had just been in Greenville the day before. He had seen me on the television program. I was certain that God had ordained this miracle!
    This time, I did not hesitate. I called my newfound nephew, Tony, and told him I was indeed his aunt. I talked with Tony long enough to learn that he was a preacher! Tony, in turn, gave me Jimmy’s number. I hung up and tried to dial my brother. It took a good half hour to work up the courage, but I did it. When Jimmy answered, I knew right away that I had every reason to hope again. He had the deep Southern drawl that I remembered, but his voice had matured into a rich baritone. His voice was full of love and excitement. We talked for two hours! He told me he had five children and many grandchildren, and even a few great-grandchildren.
    â€œI am raising two of my grandchildren,” he told me. “My youngest daughter, Sharon, was killed by a hit-and-run driver when her two kids were still babies. When she died, my wife and I adopted her two children.”
    Jimmy went on to list nieces, nephews, and a sister-in-law who I never knew I had. With each family member he mentioned to me, I felt another little piece of me slipping back into place. Hearing the happiness in his voice and the matter-of-fact way he gave me their phone numbers, I knew for sure how glad he was to hear from me. I had never known the warmth of a large family before, and I was filled with gratitude that God had put my nephew in front of that television on that particular night at that exact minute.
    â€œWhen can we set up a time to meet?” I blurted out.
    I was incredibly excited by the thought of seeing him in person, but it was tempered when I heard the tone to his voice.
    â€œSure, but my work schedule is busy for the next month or two. Maybe we can get together after that.”
    I could not leave it at that, not after the reaction I had received from Robbie. I knew something was not right.
    â€œJimmy, do you not want to see me?” I asked, afraid of the answer.
    â€œSure I do, Frances,” he said, and he sounded like he meant it. “But I want to look nice when I see you for the first time after all these years.”
    â€œWhat do you mean? I don’t care what you look like, Jimmy.”
    I couldn’t really understand. I thought he wanted to buy a new suit or something like that. He sounded so sheepish when he continued.
    â€œI’d like to have some teeth in my mouth when I meet you.”
    â€œWhat happened to your teeth?”
    â€œWell . . .” He chuckled. “I fell asleep in front of the TV one night after working all day. My dog was lying beside me, and my false teeth fell out of my mouth. My dog got hold of ’em and chewed ’em up before I could get ’em away from him. My dog ate my teeth!”
    I laughed along with my brother as he described chasing the dog through the house, trying to recover his false teeth.
    â€œJimmy,” I said, “I don’t care what you look like. I just want to see you again. I won’t even look at your mouth, I promise.”
    â€œFrances, I really want to wait for my teeth. It won’t be long. Danny, my oldest son, has all the numbers for your nieces and nephews. I’ve already told him to give them to you.” Jimmy gave me Danny’s phone number and told me to call him. “You’ll like Danny,” he assured me.
    I tried hard, but Jimmy would not budge. We ended our talk with no plans to meet until he got his new teeth. He promised to call me just as soon as he got them. I resolved to wait and see my