Harvest of Blessings

by Hubbard, Charlotte

  Nora’s heart swelled. Surely if Vernon Gingerich— the most sincere, righteous man she knew—claimed she’d shown great faith, she should believe him. “Denki for saying that. Some might call it rushing in where angels fear to tread,” she said hesitantly. “My Mennonite leanings haven’t helped my cause where Dat’s concerned.”

  Vernon smiled as he started strolling again, toward a small building behind his cattle barn. “God gave us free will, just as He created us all for different work in His kingdom,” the bishop pointed out. “I believe He loves his English and Mennonite children—His children of every color and creed—every bit as much as He cares for Amish folks. He loved us long before we began categorizing ourselves according to our differing beliefs. After all, we humans created organized religion more to accommodate our limited understanding of God than to honor Him.”

  Nora’s mouth opened and then shut. She had sensed Vernon was a more progressive bishop than most in the Old Order, but she’d not expected him to expound upon a God who showed such boundless acceptance of His children.

  When Vernon opened the door to the small building they’d reached, Nora stepped inside. The air was redolent with the aromas of fresh-cut wood and varnish. Saws, mallets, and other tools of the woodworking trade hung neatly along a large pegboard. Several pieces of furniture in various stages of construction filled most of the floor space. Nora sucked in her breath and walked over to a large rolltop desk that appeared to be finished. “Did you make this, Vernon? It’s absolutely beautiful.”

  “It’s what I do when I’m not tending my cattle,” he replied. “There’s an old saying that to pray is to work, and to work is to pray. I feel closest to God with tools in my hands, and I often find solutions to my knottiest problems out here.”

  “I know exactly what you mean,” Nora murmured as she walked around the room. She admired a set of walnut dining room chairs with burled inlays, and a bird’s-eye maple china hutch that appeared so sturdily crafted yet so feminine. Every piece in this shop attested to Vernon’s attention to detail and his love for his work.

  “When I lost my first wife, Dorothea, my desire to make furniture went to the grave with her,” Vernon continued in a pensive voice. “I thank God every day that Jerusalem has inspired me to work with my hands again, for I was born to make things of wood as surely as you were meant to fashion items of colorful cloth.”

  Again Nora’s heart beat with the gratification Vernon’s words brought her. And I thank You, God, for leading me here today—for causing me to listen to what You were telling me in the car, she prayed silently.

  The bishop ran his hand along the glossy top of the desk, with its louvered rolling top and interior compartments of various sizes. “I think God’s love is a lot like this desk,” he mused aloud. “Even though we humans tend to compartmentalize our beliefs into pigeonholes like I’ve made here, all the spaces are still housed in the same structure—like the many mansions He prepares for us in His kingdom.”

  Vernon paused to gaze at Nora. “Most bishops preach that the Old Order is the only way to salvation, but I believe God’s love for us is much broader and deeper than we can possibly comprehend,” he murmured. “If I’m wrong, He’ll judge me accordingly—and only He has the right to pass such judgment.”

  Nora nodded, wide-eyed. Vernon’s statement of belief was exactly what she’d needed to hear—and the opposite of what she’d grown up with.

  “It’s the same for you, Nora. Jesus gave us a new commandment, to love one another,” he went on in a voice that rang around the shop walls. “And if you love those who persecute you, you’ve done as the Lord instructed even if those others remain too focused on the laws of the Old Testament—or the Old Order—to return your love.”

  Vernon placed his hands lightly on Nora’s shoulders, very much resembling God in the way she’d described Him to Luke: a benevolent father figure, filled with compassion for His wayward children. “That love is the knot you tie in your proverbial rope, to hang on to while God works out His will in your life.”

  “So simple, yet so complicated,” Nora replied with a sigh.

  “That’s the way of it, yes. But your faith will see you through, and Tom and I will stand with you every step of the way, Nora.” Vernon squeezed her shoulders, a benediction that brought his counsel to a close. “When will you open your store?”

  Nora pulled her thoughts from the spiritual realm he’d invoked back to the present. “September sixth. I have a lot to do before then, but it seems like a good birthday present to myself.”

  “An auspicious time for a new beginning,” he agreed. “It’s wonderful that you’re showcasing Plain craftsmen and creating an outlet for their work. I predict your store will bring many new opportunities to Willow Ridge—just as Luke and Ira’s mill has provided a new income stream for several area farmers. I understand the boys got off to a better start than they’d anticipated.”

  “Jah, they sold out of several things, including Nazareth’s goat cheese and Tom’s fresh butter.” Nora hesitated, but then sensed Vernon wouldn’t be offended by her idea. “If this rolltop desk—or any of these pieces—don’t have homes, I’d be honored if you consigned them to my store. You can set whatever price you choose.”

  Vernon’s smile lit up his round face, reminding her of cherubs she’d seen in religious paintings. “That’s a high compliment, dear, but when I returned to my woodworking, I dedicated my pieces to Jerusalem’s years in the classroom,” he replied. “I’m donating my work to our district’s annual auction, so the money they bring will help support our school.”

  “What a lovely tribute,” Nora murmured.

  “Jerusalem’s a lovely woman. I’m blessed to have her in my life.”

  Wow. If more men loved their wives the way Vernon cherishes Jerusalem, what a different world it would be.

  Nora let out a grateful sigh. “I can’t thank you enough for the way you’ve helped me. I’ll let you get back to your day now—”

  “And I look forward to that hanging you’re making for the butcher shop,” he said, his eyes a-twinkle. “Jerusalem is so tickled to be giving it to me, I can’t help being tickled, as well. And you have brought about all this happiness, Nora, just doing what you do best. Don’t forget that, when the situation with your dat overwhelms you. You were born to be a blessing.”

  After Vernon walked her to the car, Nora drove down his lane with a sense of great relief. He hadn’t given her step-by-step instructions or promised that her dat’s attitude toward her would improve, yet he’d bolstered her self-confidence. He’d assured her that her faith was strong enough to see her through whatever ordeals might lie ahead.

  Love is the knot you tie in your proverbial rope, to hang on to while God works out His will in your life. You were born to be a blessing.

  As she again followed the county blacktop toward Amanda Brubaker’s place to ask about consigning some of her fabulous pottery, Nora decided to look online when she got home, for places to sell the BMW. She would get a better price for it if she contacted dealerships in larger towns—and she’d have a bigger selection of used vans to choose from, too.

  If she trusted God to work out His will, she could remain patient—to see whether Dat made his confession, or whether the congregation would vote on shunning him if he didn’t comply. In two weeks she would know how it all shook out, and in the meantime she had a store to organize. September sixth was less than a month away.

  Nora pushed the button to fold down the top of her convertible. She put on her sunglasses and smiled up into the sunlight, reveling in these pleasures one final time before she sold her red car. The despair that had filled her an hour ago had been replaced by a sense of celebration that made her heart play hopscotch.

  It’ll all work out. Vernon believes it, and I do, too!

  Chapter Seventeen

  As Luke bagged freshly milled whole wheat flour on Thursday morning, he felt a deep sense of satisfaction. Seeing The Mill at Willow Ridge print
ed on these brown paper sacks, along with a sketch of the mill, was a longtime dream come true; he and Ira couldn’t possibly have set up such a business in Lancaster County because even if land beside a water way had been available, it would’ve been too expensive. This morning his brother was out checking the acres of organic corn around the area, which was now in the tasseling stage. He was also collecting crates of eggs laid by the cage-free chickens that some of their other contracted farmers raised. Ira, with his happy-go-lucky personality, was so good at convincing old-school farmers to raise new-fangled products—and every one of them was pleased with the profits they were making on their first harvest.

  Luke preferred the milling work, grinding the grains and packaging them for the store. As he filled another sack, he inhaled the nutty-sweet aroma of the flour and knew good cooks like Miriam would appreciate its texture and freshness. His worktable was nearly covered with filled sacks ready to be sealed when he heard the snappy tap-tap-tap of feminine footsteps.

  “Luke, may I ask a favor?”

  Nora’s voice sent a lightning bolt up his spine. When he turned to greet her, he beheld a knockout of a woman who could have had anything in the world from him without having to ask. With her auburn hair artfully layered around her face, and wearing a cedar green jacket and matching skirt that showed off her stunning legs, Nora Landwehr might’ve stepped out of a fashion magazine or a big-city office. “Wow,” he murmured. “You look like a million bucks.”

  Her smile appeared sophisticated. Self-assured. “Thanks,” she replied. “I’ve got an appointment in Columbia to sell my car. And I’ve found a couple of used vans to test drive before I take the best one to the Mennonite body shop over past Cedar Creek for a coat of black paint. If I call you when I’m en route to the shop, could you possibly meet me there and bring me home?”

  “Sure I’ll meet you there. I can pick up Ira’s repaired wheel while I’m at it,” he replied with a chuckle. “But we might not come straight home.”

  Nora’s lips twitched. She was wearing a dusky reddish-brown lipstick that made Luke want to kiss it off her immediately, but he knew better than to mess up her flawless makeup . . . at least until they were on the way home.

  “We’ll stop for lunch somewhere,” she said. “It’s the least I can do after bumming a ride.”

  And what’s the most you’ll do? came his wayward mental reply. But Luke reminded himself that a woman like Nora suffered no fools, so he tried to make conversation that sounded rational. “I’ve heard that car salesmen are notorious for taking advantage of women who don’t have a man along. Want me to go with you?”

  “I appreciate your offer,” she replied without missing a beat. Then she plucked some papers from her purse. “I’ve printed out the data from the Kelley Blue Book website and some other sources that say how much my BMW should sell for, and how much I should expect to pay for the vans I’m going to test drive. If the van salesman acts like I’ve got sucker or clueless little woman written across my forehead, I’ll walk away. That strategy—and cash in hand—always gets their attention. There are plenty of other places to buy vans, after all.”

  Nora gazed at him with her tawny tigress eyes, which were fringed with long, dark lashes. “I’m meeting with the owner of the BMW dealership, and he’s said he already has a potential buyer for it, so it’s in his best interest to take me seriously, too. All things considered, both transactions should be pretty straightforward.”

  Luke’s mouth opened and closed again. “Why on God’s green earth do you want to be Plain, Nora?” he blurted. “You could succeed at anything in the English world—”

  “Don’t judge this book by its cover,” she replied softly. “I’ve returned to Willow Ridge to be with my family again.”

  Luke kicked himself for asking such an intrusive question, yet he couldn’t deny that the cover of Nora’s book was all the incentive he needed to jump the fence and go English, to be with her. It would settle a lot of the conflicting thoughts he’d had lately.

  And what makes you think she’d be with you ? A woman like Nora doesn’t need a man to support her or complete her.

  Does she?

  Luke cleared his throat. “Got my cell number?”

  “From your website,” she replied pertly.

  He sighed to himself. Did he really need any further proof that Nora had all the answers before he could think up the questions? “See you in a few hours then. I’ll wait for your call.”

  “Fabulous.”

  Luke’s mind lingered over his own definition of that word as Nora carefully lifted an open paper bag from his worktable. “So you’ve milled this whole wheat flour? Fresh this morning?”

  “From the crop we planted on your parents’ place,” he replied. “It’s organic and locally grown—two key words these days—and we got a bigger yield than we anticipated, so everybody’s happy. Your dat even smiled when I handed him the check for it.”

  Nora’s sigh filled the space around him. “So he remembers how to do that?” she asked wistfully. “That’s good to know. Gives me hope that someday he’ll smile at me.”

  “Maybe I can help.”

  “Yeah. Maybe.” Nora squared her shoulders and slung her purse strap over one of them. “Thanks again, Luke. Be thinking about where you’d like to do lunch.”

  As her tall, skinny heels tapped a seductive tattoo across his workroom floor, Luke watched the sway of her backside. Just as he knew he wanted to do a whole lot more than lunch, Luke realized that he was probably the one with sucker written all over his face. Of all the women he’d known, how did this girl-next-door-turned-temptress make him feel so dynamic, yet so defenseless against her allure?

  Don’t ask the question if you don’t want her honest answer.

  Luke laughed, at himself mostly. He knew he’d better finish up with his flour and hitch up his rig soon, if he was to meet Nora when she was ready for him—because once she was ready, he might only have one chance to prove he was worth her while.

  Nora stood outside Stutzman’s Body Shop, looking up and down the county highway for Luke. As the hot noon breeze riffled her hair, she felt too warm in the long-sleeved green suit, but it had served her well today: she’d gotten a few thousand dollars more than she’d expected for her BMW and had then negotiated the price of her used van down by a few thousand dollars—mostly because the men she’d been dealing with had been attracted to her.

  Flash some leg and they’ll follow you anywhere, she mused. But Nora wasn’t comfortable using her looks as a bargaining tool anymore. She’d reached a point where being accepted as a simpler, unadorned woman suited her better. It was time to clear her closets of all her sleek, shimmery clothing—time to appear as Plain on the outside as she wanted to feel on the inside.

  As a buggy approached, Nora enjoyed the clip-clop, clip-clop of the horse’s hoofbeats. She congratulated herself for recognizing Luke’s gelding, because all the rigs in this area still looked the same to her until she saw who was driving them. Waving, she headed toward the blacktop and waited for the buggy to stop.

  Luke hopped out, but he didn’t put the metal step down for her. “Going my way?” he quipped as he gave her a rakish looking-over.

  “In your dreams,” she shot back. Luke wore the broadfall pants and suspenders that announced him as Plain, but underneath he was no different from any English fellow: if things were going his way, he was as happy as a dog with a bone. “How’s your morning been?”

  “Finished bagging all that flour, then fetched Ira’s wheel, and now I’m a man about to take a hot woman for a ride,” Luke replied as his eyes narrowed. “What’s not to love about that?”

  Hot woman. Luke’s compliment and low, rugged voice suggested he was going to race right on past that proverbial first base today. While that idea assuaged her bruised ego over the way Tanner had cast her aside, she knew she’d regret letting him go as far as he wanted to.

  “Up you go,” Luke said as he lifted her effortlessly into t
he rig. His large hands lingered at her waist. “I’m way too hungry to wait any longer.”

  Red flags flapped in her conscience. As she scooted across the buggy seat, Nora searched for a proper response. “Where would you like to go for lunch?” she asked in a purposeful tone. “Cedar Creek has a couple of—”

  “Let’s try that place in Higher Ground,” Luke said as he joined her on the seat. He took up the lines and got his horse going. “With everybody there coming from someplace else, we won’t have folks we know spying on us.”

  “Except maybe Hiram,” Nora pointed out.

  “I suspect he’s not around,” Luke said. “When Ira was over that way checking our popcorn crop, he heard that Hiram’s live-in girlfriend, Delilah, has taken off. So he’s out on the prowl, looking for another bed warmer, I’m guessing.”

  Nora gaped. “He wasn’t married to her? That’s awfully fast and loose for a man who claims to be Mennonite.”

  “Oh, he had a slick line about it, something like they were one in the eyes of the Lord,” Luke replied with a snort. “But Bishop Tom didn’t buy it, and neither did anyone else. Delilah’s not much older than Annie Mae—which is why she and Adam have the younger Knepp kids living at their place.”

  “Ah,” she murmured. “That explains Hiram’s short English haircut and the dye job.”

  Luke laughed out loud. “Do you really think there’s an explanation for Knepp? Not that I want to talk about him,” he added quickly. “How’d your car dealing go?”

  Nora decided not to get specific about how many thousands of dollars were in her purse after her two transactions. “As well as I’d hoped,” she hedged. “The van I bought was a demo the sales guy had used—only has ten thousand miles on it. But with several new-model vans and SUVs on the lot, he was glad to let this one go.”