by Amy Clipston
“She’s going to be beside herself excited and happy.” Esther found Ruth’s free hand and squeezed. “We don’t always understand Gott’s plan, but He never forsakes us.”
Ruth handed tiny Beatrice back to her mother and smoothed the wrinkles from her black apron. “Ya. I know. I’ll never forget Grace. She is in my heart forever. I was blessed to have her for ten years, and that’s how I choose to think about it. I didn’t lose her after ten years, I was blessed to have her for ten years.”
“I’m so happy for you.” A tear rolled down Esther’s cheek, still rosy with exhaustion.
“I need to go talk to Becky and tell her the news.” Ruth tapped a finger to her chin. “But first, there is one more thing I need to tell you.”
Esther raised an eyebrow.
“Becky may actually need to help us pick out two names.” Ruth’s eyes welled with happiness as her sister’s jaw dropped again. “The midwife thinks it could be twins, but it’s too early to know for sure.”
Esther was in the middle of congratulating Ruth when a loud squeal came from the den. Ruth went to the closed door and peeked out to see Amos, their parents, the midwife, and other family members watching an excited Becky as she hugged Gideon. Ruth looked back to her sister. “Ach, well, someone beat me to it. Gideon must have told Becky and the rest of them.”
Ruth smiled at her husband as Becky jumped up and down, then finally turned around and waved to Ruth. Her niece cupped her mouth with her hands and yelled, “I can already think of so many names!”
Esther chuckled. “Oh, dear. I wonder what she’ll come up with.”
Ruth gazed at her husband and niece, thanking the Lord again for an abundance of peace, happiness, and hope for the future. She turned back to Esther again, closing the door behind her. “I’m sure we’ll all settle on gut names.”
“Ha. That’s what you think. She’s already mentioned Myrtle and Hilda for my future babies. She might suggest those for yours.”
Ruth rested a hand on her stomach. “I have a funny feeling we are having boys.”
Giggling, Esther rolled her eyes. “Our Becky has boy names picked out too. I’m hoping she outgrows this obsession with odd names that aren’t common to our people.”
“I’m afraid to ask what boy names she has in mind.” Ruth winked at her sister. “But those names will be for your future kinner, I’m sure.”
“She has six boy names. I’m sure I’m not having six boys.” She pushed her lips into a pout. “Well, I guess I can’t be sure about that. Amos is hoping for a lot of boys.”
Ruth walked to the bed and kissed baby Beatrice on the cheek. “Be well, little one.” Then she kissed her sister on the forehead. “Well done. She’s beautiful.” Standing, she took a deep breath. “Now, I’m going home with my husband, and we thought we’d take our niece for a while so her mother can rest.”
Esther nodded, then locked eyes with Ruth. “Gott is good, isn’t He?” Esther said again.
“In so many ways.” Ruth blew Esther a kiss and opened the door that led to her husband and niece.
Husband. It was a word she would never tire of saying. She thanked Gott for gifting her with more children and for this second chance at happiness with Gideon. She paused before stepping over the threshold and closed her eyes.
I love you, Grace. Always and forever.
In her mind, she heard “I love you too, Mamm,” and she smiled.
Everything was going to be okay. Better than okay.
Blessed.
DISCUSSION QUESTIONS
1.The loss of a loved one at any age is difficult, but especially when a child dies. Statistically, grief often causes the parents to split up. Has this happened to you or to anyone you know? Did the couple reunite or remain separated?
2.What do you think would have happened if Gideon and Ruth had stayed together? Or what might the outcome have been if they had returned home sooner? Did they possibly need their time apart in an effort for each of them to heal before they were able to console each other?
3.At the end of the story, I could almost see Grace smiling down on her parents. Did you have a sense of Grace’s presence throughout the novella? If so, what were some of the recollections and memories that led you to feel like you knew Grace?
4.Ruth and Gideon both returned home to face people and painful situations they had avoided. But, in the end, it is people and situations that ultimately help them to continue the healing process. What are some examples of this?
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
This was a difficult story to write, but one that God placed upon my heart. Much thanks to my publishing team at HarperCollins Christian Fiction. Special thanks to my editor, Kimberly Carlton, for encouraging me to go deeper with this novella. Your keen insight about the importance of a story like this led me to push myself harder in an effort to get it right. I always pray that my stories get into the hands of the right people, and it’s especially true with this novella.
Raelyn, you are forever missed, but I felt your presence as I wrote about Grace and her family. Thank you for allowing me to be a part of your journey. Dance with the angels, sweet girl, and save some Jelly Belly jellybeans for me!
To Natasha Kern, my agent, you knew this would be a challenging story for me to tackle. Thank you for understanding how personal this novella is to me. And, of course, you continue to rock as my agent and dear friend. I’m blessed to have you in my life.
To my family and friends, what an amazing ride this continues to be. Thank you for supporting me and loving me.
And to God the Father, thank You for all that You are in my life.
A CHANCE TO REMEMBER
Kathleen Fuller
To James. I love you.
CHAPTER 1
Cevilla Schlabach pressed the damp potting soil in her flower box. She smiled and stepped back, admiring her work. Four impatiens plants bloomed there—each one purple, coral, pink, or white. The box was small and modest, but at least she could keep up with it on her own.
“We finished weeding the flower beds.”
She turned to see Judah Yoder at the bottom of her porch steps. She picked up her cane and hobbled to the edge. “Every last weed?”
He grinned. “Every last weed.”
“Where are Malachi and Perry?”
“Raking up the last of the leaves left over from last fall.”
She nodded. This was the second year Judah, Malachi Chupp, and Perry Bontrager had spring cleaned her yard. The boys, who were all related to each other, did a good job. Judah, at twelve years old, had taken the lead and made sure Malachi, eight, and Perry, ten, finished their assigned tasks. That didn’t stop her from wishing she could do it herself. She’d had quite the green thumb in her day. But arthritis and time had slowed her down, and now in the latter part of her eighties, she felt that slowing down more than ever.
No need to let these young people know that, though. She grinned and tapped her cane on the wooden porch planks. “Gut work deserves some fresh lemonade. And possibly a cookie or two.”
“Cookies?” Malachi said as he and Perry rounded the corner of the house and hurried to stand by Judah. The older Yoder boy was taller, but Cevilla was sure Malachi would catch up to him soon.
“Did you say cookies?” Perry asked.
“I did. Two kinds.” She held up two fingers. “Peanut butter and chocolate chip. Straight from Judah’s aenti’s bakery.”
“If Aenti Carolyn made them, then they’re delicious.” Judah started up the steps.
Cevilla held up her hand. “I need you buwe to do one more thing while I get the lemonade and cookies ready.”
Judah stepped back. “What’s that?”
“A few slats in the back of the barn are loose. They need to be nailed down. The barn floor could also use a good sweeping.” The chores wouldn’t take them long. She’d had to give up driving her own buggy and owning her own horse. She just couldn’t keep up with caring for an animal. The buggy and Shep had a good home with
Adam and Karen Chupp, but she missed her independence.
The boys nodded and took off. Cevilla went back in the house and headed to the kitchen. She washed the dirt from her hands, dried them on a towel, and removed the plastic wrap from the Styrofoam plate filled with bakery cookies. As she set the plate on the table, Malachi dashed into the kitchen.
“Someone’s here to see you.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
Cevilla raised an eyebrow. Malachi knew everyone in the district, and Cevilla didn’t get strangers for visitors.
“There’s a woman with him too. They drive a fancy car. Fancier than I’ve ever seen.”
She nodded, her curiosity piqued. “Tell him I’ll be right out.”
“Okay.” Malachi looked longingly at the cookies. “We’re almost finished in the barn.”
“Gut. Then you’re that much closer to getting yer snack.”
Those words caused him to scurry out of the kitchen. Cevilla smiled at how the promise of a cookie or two could make a boy eager to work. She grabbed her cane and slowly headed for the front door. Malachi would probably be at the barn by the time she reached the porch. She frowned. Getting old wasn’t for the fainthearted.
Who would be coming by that Malachi didn’t recognize? Probably a salesman, although she couldn’t recall the last time she’d seen one. Did door-to-door salesmen exist anymore? She remembered them coming by often during her childhood in Pennsylvania. She hadn’t been Amish then, and several salesmen had peddled their goods to her parents. They’d had vacuum cleaners, cleaning brushes, and pots and pans, among other things. Even if her stepmother, Glenda, wasn’t interested in what they were selling, she always invited them in, offered them a glass of water or a cup of tea, and listened to their spiels. That was Glenda—friendly, kind, and soft-hearted.
Cevilla blinked. She was standing in front of the screen door, but she hadn’t opened it. That was happening more often—her mind getting lost in the past. She was still as sharp as a steel needle, so she wasn’t worried about losing her faculties. But reliving her youth was comforting. She liked remembering when she was full of energy, without pain, and not dependent on a cane.
She opened the screen door, wondering if it would be wise or safe to invite in the salesman—or salespeople, since Malachi said two people were here. She read the papers, and although she didn’t live with a spirit of fear, a bit of caution was a good thing.
When she saw the man standing at the bottom of the porch steps, she froze. Was that . . . ? It was.
What is he doing here?
Richard Johnson couldn’t keep his gaze from the woman in front of him. His mind instantly traveled back to the 1940s, when they’d both been teenagers in a small Arnold City, Pennsylvania, neighborhood. She’d always been so pretty and outgoing. Bunny, she’d been nicknamed by his best friend—and her future fiancé—CJ Manchester. That was nearly seventy years ago, but right now, time stood still. Through his eyes she was the blond-haired, blue-eyed firecracker he remembered.
“Richard Johnson?” She let the screen door bounce closed behind her.
That noise, along with the thumping of her cane, brought him back to the present. He glanced down at his own cane, his constant companion for the last decade. As she made her way to the top of the porch steps, he walked toward her. “Cevilla,” he said, his voice raspy from age. He couldn’t keep from smiling.
“What are you doing here?” Unlike his, her voice was as strong as ever. But her expression was uncertain.
That made him pause, realizing he’d expected her to be as glad to see him as he was to see her. Then again, he was surprising her out of the blue, an idea now giving him second thoughts. He should have let her know he was coming. Better yet, he should have written to her as soon as he’d found her address, and asked permission to pay her a visit. That would have been the polite thing to do. But he’d uncharacteristically let his emotions overrule his common sense.
“I came to see you,” he said, his smile fading a little. He stopped at the bottom of the steps and looked up at her.
“Why?”
Straight to the point. That had been Cevilla’s way, ever since he’d known her when they were young, up until she rejoined the Amish when she was eighteen. He hadn’t been in contact with her since.
His granddaughter, Meghan, appeared at his side. “I told you this wasn’t a good idea.”
He turned to her, and another wave of doubt came over him—not about Cevilla, but about letting Meghan accompany him. When he first told her he wanted to track down an old friend, she helped him without too much protest. That changed when he said he wanted to come to Ohio and see Cevilla. Then there was the problem of Meghan behaving like a mother hen since his recent fall, and from the moment they left California she’d been hovering. A part of him wished she would have stayed home. “This is my granddaughter, Meghan,” he said, trying to break the ice.
“It’s nice to meet you,” Meghan said, but her voice was tight.
Cevilla blinked, and her surprised expression disappeared. “Now, where are my manners?” She smiled and gestured to the door. “Come inside, both of you. I hope you like cookies and lemonade.”
Meghan glanced at him. His svelte granddaughter was always on a diet of some sort, but he knew that wasn’t why she looked thinner than ever.
“Sounds delicious.” He’d started for the steps when Meghan’s hand slipped around his elbow. “I can climb up three steps on my own,” he muttered.
“You just got out of the hospital last week,” she shot back, gritting her teeth. “I won’t risk you having another fall.”
He sighed, mentally fighting between pride and common sense. This time common sense won out, and he let Meghan escort him up the steps. Cevilla held the door open for them, but he noticed she didn’t meet his eyes. Maybe Meghan was right. Maybe this had been a mistake.
“We can go into the kitchen,” she said, moving in front of them. She glanced over her slightly rounded shoulder. “I’m glad I have enough cookies.”
“None for me, please.”
Richard glanced at Meghan. She was twenty-five and a brilliant young woman going through a rough spot in her life. That was why he didn’t call out her rudeness. “I’ll take hers, then.”
“Grandfather, your diabetes—”
“I won’t go into sugar shock from two cookies.” This was getting embarrassing. First, he had to be helped up the steps, and now Cevilla knew he had diabetes. Normally public knowledge of his ailments didn’t bother him. He wasn’t a spring chicken. More like a winter rooster. And like a rooster, he still had dignity, but Meghan was quickly taking it away.
Cevilla didn’t say anything as they entered the kitchen. “I have lemonade. Fresh squeezed, with plenty of . . . sugar.” She looked at him for the first time. “I can make you some unsweetened tea instead.”
He shook his head. “Lemonade is fine—”
“He’ll take the tea.”
Richard shot Meghan a hard look. He should have known this was going to happen. Her mother, Sharon, had been beside herself when he’d insisted on making this trip. Only when her daughter insisted on going with him did she finally relent. “It’s not like I can stop you,” she grumbled. “Knowing you, you’d probably try to drive there—by yourself!”
The idea had been tempting, but he wasn’t quite up to a long trip, and for the most part he’d given up driving. Not that he wouldn’t be up to a trip alone by plane once he completely recovered. He wasn’t a cripple, even though his daughter and granddaughter often treated him like he was.
“Tea it is.” Cevilla lifted the teakettle from an older model gas stove and walked to the sink. “Make yourself at home,” she said as she filled the kettle with water.
Meghan looked at the small wood table. It was simple, like this house. He could see what was running through her mind. As an interior designer, and a very successful one, she looked at décor with a critical eye.
Rich
ard pulled out a chair and sat down. It was solid, like the wood table, and that was enough for him.
Three young boys burst into the kitchen. “We’re finished!” the tallest one said.
“I’m ready for cookies.” The shortest one with reddish-brown hair went straight to the table.
“Excuse me.” Cevilla turned and thumped her cane on the floor.
The three boys immediately turned and faced her.
“Did you wash up outside?”
All three shook their heads.
She pointed to the doorway Richard and Meghan had just walked through with her cane. “Bathroom is to the left. Get all that dirt out from under your fingernails too.”
They nodded and raced out of the kitchen as fast as they came in.
“My working crew,” Cevilla said as she turned and pulled three teacups out of the cabinet next to the sink. “I suppose you’ll want tea, too, Meghan?”
Meghan sat down. “Yes. Please.”
“Do you need any help?” He’d missed activity around the house since moving in with Sharon and Meghan. They rarely let him do anything.
“No, thank you. I’m an expert at making tea.”
He smiled. This was the confident Cevilla he remembered.
After a few moments of silence, Meghan said, “You have a lovely home.”
Cevilla turned around. “You really think so?”
Meghan blinked, her cheeks turning a light pink color. “Ah, yes. I, uh, do.”
“Hmm.” Cevilla lined up the plain white teacups by the stove. “Seems as though a woman like you would have more sophisticated tastes.”
Meghan lifted her chin. “I appreciate simple style as well.”
Richard glanced at his granddaughter. Meghan could stand on her own with any man or woman. Much like Cevilla could.
“Like your car?” Cevilla smiled with false sweetness.
Meghan had insisted on renting the most expensive luxury car, something Richard had thought unnecessary. At home she drove the latest model BMW, which cost her quite a bit of money. He thought that was an extravagant expense for a young woman, but he’d made plenty of extravagant purchases in his lifetime. He’d ended up regretting many of them.
