by Tricia Goyer
“It would be good to check out some books, just as long as you add strawberries sometime this year. There’s nothing as wonderful as plucking a fresh strawberry right off the vine. I’m looking forward to that.”
“I have to admit that one of the things I’m most excited about is the peace and quiet.” She sighed. “There aren’t many places to find it around Pinecraft.”
“Ne. That’s the truth. But I doubt that even this big warehouse can block out all the noise.”
“Still.” She smiled. “It’ll be a place just for me. When the people and the noise seem to press in I’ll have a place to go.” She clapped her hands together. “Oh, and I’d guess with the right soil we’ll have a wonderful harvest.”
Another large group of customers neared, and soon all the tables around them filled. The noise of their voices caused the hair on Hope’s arms to stand. Hope pushed her pie plate back from her.
“Dat, you don’t mind if I go around the back to take a look, do you?”
“Ne, not at all. I’ll be back in a little while.” He winked. “Maybe if I sit here longer Lovina will offer me another piece of pie.”
Hope rose and hurried out. The air was warm and humid, but it was much quieter—even with the traffic noise. As she rounded the back of the building, her heartbeat slowed. She took in the large grassy area separated from the buildings behind it by a tall fence. It was peaceful and quiet. Hope closed her eyes and pictured a garden there. She took in a deep breath that smelled of sun and grass, picturing small sprouts of new life poking up. And for the first time since they’d moved to Pinecraft, Hope had a sense of lightness in her chest. More than that, she had a glimpse of being home.
Cherry Pie
2 Tbsp tapioca
⅛ tsp. salt
1 cup sugar
3 cups drained sweet or sour cherries, juice reserved
½ cup cherry juice
¼ cup almond extract
1 Tbsp butter
Mix tapioca, salt, sugar, cherries, juice, and almond extract together in a large bowl and let stand 15 minutes. Pour into 9-inch pie shell. Dot with butter. Cover with top crust. Seal edges and slice hole in top for venting. Place on baking sheet and bake at 350° for 50 minutes.
Chapter Eight
If you want children to keep their feet on the ground, put responsibility on their shoulders.
AMISH PROVERB
In just two days Jonas Sutter went from hearing about an idea for a garden from Clyde to discovering that one was going in at the pie shop. Jonas rounded the side of the building. Rays of the new dawn stretched down over the large grassy area. One never knew what a week would hold, he supposed.
Last night, after he’d put Emma to bed, Jonas had heard his brother-in-law Clyde chatting with someone on the front porch. He’d planned on ignoring Clyde and instead finishing his lesson plans for the coming week, but then he heard his name mentioned not once or twice, but numerous times.
Jonas had opened the screen door and peeked out.
“There you are,” Clyde had said. “I’d thought you’d gone to bed.”
“Oh no, just put Emma down.”
It was then that Clyde had introduced him to Noah Yoder, and within thirty minutes Jonas had found himself agreeing to meet the man before school, bright and early, to help plan the garden plot.
Now, as two birds chirped overhead and a yellow and white butterfly danced by on the warm breeze, Jonas stood and surveyed the area.
“I’m glad you want to help me figure this out.” Noah removed his hat and brushed his blond hair back from his forehead. “But don’t let anyone know you’re involved in this—not yet. Lovina has some things planned for this project—some people who want to get involved—but… ” Noah’s voice trailed off.
“But just as too many cooks can spoil the pot, too many gardeners can spoil the soil.”
Noah chuckled. “I’ve never heard truer words.”
Jonas held an ordinary college-ruled notebook and pencil in his hand as he walked the length of the area and then walked back to Noah. “What do you think of three rows of three raised beds? They’d run from north to south to catch the best sun. I’ve heard of using cement blocks, too, instead of wood. They last longer and they’re easy to set up.”
Noah nodded. “I heard of a place where I could get good soil too. I know you have to get to school this morning, but if you have time this weekend I’d love for you to ride along with me to look at the dirt.” Noah offered a shy smile. “I know my way around a junkyard, but I’ve never been one to have a green thumb.”
Jonas crossed his hands over his chest and chuckled. “Ja, of course. I’ll see if Ruth Ann can watch Emma.”
“You can bring her if you’d like. I’m sure one little girl couldn’t get in too much trouble.”
Jonas narrowed his gaze. “I wish that were so, but my daughter’s a little too much like me. You remember the incident at the park, don’t you? Poor Hope Miller. I’m sure she was simply trying to enjoy a quiet walk.” He shook his head. “But even if Emma were on her best behavior, I don’t want her too involved, not yet. It’s going to be hard for her to keep a secret.”
“Ja, Lovina feels the same. She told Hope—” Noah paused and his eyes widened. “Uh, pretend I didn’t just say that.”
Jonas winked. “Say what?” He looked to Noah and tried to hide his expression of joy, but inwardly his heart warmed. As he’d talked to Lovina he’d wished that she was thinking of Hope as the gardener to oversee this project.
He turned his back to Noah and looked to the rising sun. Tenderness washed over him at the remembrance of Emma in Hope’s protective arms. For so long he couldn’t imagine another mother for his little girl, yet now this young woman in Pinecraft had stirred his thoughts in that direction. He felt both unworthy of someone like her and hopeful at the same time. And, even if she wasn’t interested in more than a friendship, this garden would be a gift. If Hope was a gardener, like Emma said she was, then he was happy to help.
With thoughtful consideration, Jonas sketched out nine long raised beds. Then he walked over to Noah and held out the sketch. “There is so much space to use, but maybe this is enough to get started? And together we can run some pipes from that spigot to create a simple watering system. It shouldn’t take more than a few hours’ work.”
His words were interrupted by a soft clapping sound, and Jonas’s head jerked up. He expected to see Lovina, or maybe their dat, but instead an older woman stood there.
She was Amish, and she wore a simple brown dress and white kapp. Her white hair was combed neatly without a hair out of place. The woman wore walking shoes and yet leaned heavily on her cane. Jonas tilted his head, wondering what she was doing out this early. Wondering where she’d been walking to, and how she’d even found them back there.
“I thought I heard voices!” she called, answering his last question. She neared them with a quicker pace than he’d expected.
Noah approached her, his smile wide. “Can I help you?”
“Don’t you remember me?” She lifted her chin and gazed directly at Noah. “I’m Elizabeth Bieler from the fabric shop. Faith—Hope’s sister—works for me, and I’m the one who let you borrow my quilt at the park last Saturday.”
Jonas cleared his throat. “I’m actually the one who borrowed the quilt. Hope took it home. I hope it was returned.”
“Of course it was returned.” She smiled. “I’ve just come to inspect.”
Noah’s hat was still in his hand and he scratched his head. “Inspect?”
“Ja, I’ve come to hear about your plans for the garden.”
Jonas’s heartbeat quickened. He glanced at Noah. “Did you tell her?”
Noah shook his head, and they both turned their attention to Elizabeth, waiting for an explanation.
“No one told me.” Elizabeth leaned on her cane. “I’ve been praying about it. I’ve been praying about a garden that would bring the community together—just like our garden did i
n 1942.” The older woman jutted out her chin, appearing pleased.
Noah nodded, but in a way that told Jonas he was simply trying to appease the woman.
“1942, that was during the war,” Jonas said. “I know that many Englisch communities banded together during that time.” Jonas didn’t tell the woman that history was his favorite subject. He waited to see what she had to say instead.
“Ja, and sometimes we can learn a lot from those who’ve gone before us, Englisch or not.” She lifted her cane and pointed it at Noah’s chest. “As soon as those raised beds are in I’d like you to tell Hope to come see me. Tell her I have something for her.” Elizabeth smiled. “A gift.”
Noah nodded, and Jonas could again tell that he was puzzled by this woman. Noah returned his hat to his head. “Ja, of course.”
The woman walked away, humming a tune as she did.
Jonas looked to Noah, and the man shrugged. “So maybe I’m not the only one who guessed that this garden is for Hope.”
“Ja, someone must be talking, but I suppose that’s not my concern. It’s my job to make sure the beds are in and to get the soil.” Noah pointed to Jonas. “And then it’ll be your job to take care of the rest. You did promise to help, didn’t you?”
Jonas nodded. He didn’t want to seem too eager, but he had to admit that he was looking forward to spending more time with Hope and working with his students in the garden.
“Just as long as you don’t forget to pass that woman’s message to Hope… when the time is right, of course.”
Noah nodded. “Ja, I have a feeling Elizabeth Bieler will search us out if we forget.”
Jonas looked to where the woman had just left. “And I’m eager to hear what the woman was talking about too. It sounded like that garden in 1942 was pretty important.” He shrugged. “I’d planned on tying in science and math to our lessons, but maybe there will be a chance to add in some history too.”
Jonas looked down at his sketch, wondering how everything had changed. He’d gone from teaching school to now being part of this garden. And then there was his friendship with Hope. Tonight was the singing that he and Emma were going to attend with Hope. Jonas stroked his chin, wondering if they’d make it through the night without Emma speaking of the garden. He knew his little girl, how excited and eager she was. Then again, he knew how much she liked Hope, and maybe the idea of a surprise would seem like a special gift to their new friend. That was how it felt to Jonas, and as he walked to the school he had a hard time hiding the extra bounce to his step. Tonight he would see Hope, and in the next week or so he’d help to give her the ultimate gift.
Lovina’s Pie Crust
3 cups all-purpose flour
1 cup solid shortening, chilled
½ tsp. salt
1 egg
5 tsp. ice water
1 tsp. vinegar
Mix flour, shortening, and salt. Beat egg and add water and vinegar. Add to flour mixture to make a soft dough (do not over-handle or you’ll end up with a chewy crust). Makes one double pie crust or enough for two single crust pies.
Chapter Nine
No joy is complete unless it is shared.
AMISH PROVERB
Jonas carried three lawn chairs down to Birky Square. A crowd was already gathered on the street and milling around the open, grassy area. Amish and Mennonites of all ages were gathering for the gospel sing. Old Order Amish women wore black dresses. New Order Amish wore similar dresses, but in lighter colors. Almost every young woman wore flip-flops, and one could easily tell where everyone was from by the cut of the dresses and the style of their kapps. Men wore everything from homemade Amish clothing to jeans and short-sleeved dress shirts. Laughter rose up among the flowing streams of conversation, but Jonas knew as soon as the music started the noise would still. Musical events like this were not common in most Amish communities. This was a special treat to be enjoyed by those who’d come down to escape winter’s harsh grasp.
Emma walked by his side, and Jonas scanned the crowds looking for Hope. He spotted her near the back of the sea of lawn chairs. She stood alone, tall and straight-backed. Her dress was light blue, just a shade lighter than the sky overhead. Her eyes lit up, and a smile filled her face when she spotted them approaching.
“Oh, gut, I was hoping you’d bring chairs. My mem, dat, and sisters are using ours.” She pointed to the other side of the gathering. Seeing the back of her parents’ heads, Jonas nodded.
“I’m so glad that you’re joining me. It’s always nice to share gut music with new friends,” she added.
“Of course. Emma and I have been looking forward to it.”
When he first came to town Ruth Ann had talked about the concerts. It seemed strange to him that the Amish—who believed playing instruments was too prideful—would find such joy in watching others play. Within the crowd there was also a smattering of Englischers. His guess was that they’d be quick to clap along, but he had no doubt that even the Old Order Amish would begin tapping their toes to the beat once the four-part music group started to sing.
“We’ll have to come back in a few weeks too. The first week of February they have a bean soup dinner to go along with the music. A sweet couple hosts it in memory of a sister lost. They cook it in a large kettle over an open fire.”
Jonas set up the lawn chairs. “It sounds like something we should return for.”
He sat, but Emma completely ignored her chair. Instead, she stood next to Hope’s chair, leaning close. After a few minutes of listening to the musicians Hope leaned close, speaking low into Emma’s ear. “Would you like to sit on my lap?”
Emma grinned and climbed on. Both seemed content to listen to the music, and Jonas’s stomach scrunched into a tangle of knots. His palms grew sweaty, and he wanted to look at Hope again, but he was afraid he’d stare too long. He hadn’t felt this way since he’d first sat across a fire pit at a singing as a twenty-year-old man and watched Sarah in the glow of the fire. He never thought he’d ever feel this way again.
For all of his life Jonas had learned to follow God’s Word and his heart. From a young age his dat had spoken of that very thing.
“Read God’s Word and trust, Jonas,” he’d said more than once. “Know that God wants to be involved in every part of your life. See Him in the world around you, and when there is a burning in your chest, follow it.”
That burning in his chest had led him to the small farm in Kentucky. The move had been good for him, and it was in Kentucky that he’d met Sarah. Falling in love with her had been the greatest experience in life, followed by the birth of Emma. Even through Sarah’s sickness and death he never regretting marrying her. He would do it all again if given the chance. Loving her had meant everything to him. She’d given him more love in their married years than most men received in a lifetime, he guessed. And now that burning feeling, deep in his chest, had come again.
It was as if the Florida sun was trapped in his chest every time he was around Hope Miller. He’d experienced it the first time at Phillippi Creek. He’d been so frightened when he heard the woman’s voice screaming his daughter’s name. And then he neared the boat ramp and found Hope soaking wet, holding his Emma cradled in her arms. Emma’s arms had been tight around Hope’s neck and the beautiful woman had clung to his daughter.
Emma’s embrace was partly from fear. It was also of need. He’d done his best to be a gut father. He’d tried to treat Emma with tenderness, just as he thought a mother would. But when Jonas saw Emma in the woman’s arms he knew the truth. I’m failing. Ruth Ann is right. Emma needed a mother. He needed a wife. Seeing Emma in Hope’s embrace told him that she could be the one.
He sighed, hoping that this inner sense wasn’t leading him astray. After all, Hope seemed far from interested in him.
And he guessed why. Hope Miller was young and beautiful. She was at least eight years younger. He had to face the facts. Hope Miller probably had lots of other bachelors interested in her. Those who were younger. Those
who lived in Pinecraft year-round. Those who didn’t have a ready-made family.
They listened to the music for nearly an hour. Jonas hadn’t seen Emma so peaceful for quite some time. When the music finished they decided to walk down to Pinecraft Park. They talked about winters in Kentucky and Ohio as they walked. They talked about what their homes were like. Hope talked about her garden.
“Emma, when I was your age I used to pick a tin pail full of cherry tomatoes, washing them off under the cool water from the spring pump and then sitting under the tall maple tree and eating them all. I kept the heirloom seeds from those tomatoes. They were as old as the tree itself. Maybe older.”
Emma wrinkled her nose and skipped ahead. “Yuck, who wants to eat old tomatoes?”
Jonas chuckled and shook his head, but he didn’t explain. They seemed so content walking along like that.
“My grandfather once told me that our garden had been tended in the same plot since before the Civil War.” Hope sighed as her arms swung at her sides. “I felt part of something there—part of history, part of the heritage. And I sensed I was meant to tend that garden.”
Hope went on to share about her dat’s illness and their move.
“And here?” Jonas dared to ask. “You don’t feel the same about gardening?”
At the word gardening Emma reached up and took his hand, squeezing it. She glanced up at him and winked. Jonas smiled back, knowing their secret was safe.
Hope lifted her hands in the air in defeat. “Here, for so long, I felt like an imposter. The soil is an enemy. The sun a weapon.”
“Those are strong words.”
Hope cocked an eyebrow. “Have you tried to plant anything here?”
“No.” Jonas shrugged. “But I have a feeling, Hope, that under the right conditions you’d be able to get a garden to grow… no, make that flourish.”
She tilted her head and looked at him. She opened her mouth to say something, but then closed it again. Had she been about to tell him about the garden behind Me, Myself, and Pie? And if so, what stopped her from saying anything?
