Planted with Hope

by Tricia Goyer

  Emma’s eyes widened. “Ja!”

  Hope pulled off her sweater, revealing her gardening apron.

  “Plant-ed wi-th Hope!” Emma read. “Can I get one like that?”

  Hope shrugged. “I don’t know, but I’ll see what we can do. It seems like you would need one if you’d like to be my little helper.”

  Emma’s face brightened in a smile. She looked to her dat, who was smiling too. “Ja, I can be your helper!”

  Hope glanced down at the long row. “How about we start with carrots?”

  Emma reached for the packet of seeds. “Okay.”

  Hope pulled the bucket back a little. “No, wait. Not yet. We have to make sure the soil is gut.” She set down the bucket and pulled out two hand rakes. “First, we’re going to break up all the lumps. And make sure there are no stones.”

  Hope kneeled at the side of the raised bed and slowly combed the rake through the dirt. Wherever Noah and Jonas had got the garden soil, they’d found premium dirt. There were few clumps and even fewer stones, but if she was going to model for Emma how to garden she wanted to make sure to do it right.

  As Hope worked, Emma watched her, her eyes following Hope’s movements, and then did the same.

  Side by side they raked through a quarter of the long box. Hope tried to pretend that Jonas wasn’t watching. She tried to imagine it was just her and Emma and this was their garden, but the pounding of her heart betrayed her.

  When the soil was nice and loose, she tore open a package of seeds and poured some into her hand. “Now we’re going to take a pinch—maybe five or six seeds—and poke them into the ground about an inch, which is about as deep as the top part of your thumb.” Hope put down the seed packet and modeled it for Emma. She took the seeds between her pointer finger and thumb, pushed them into the loose, moist soil, and released them.

  “And make sure you do it in a straight line,” Jonas added.

  Hope straightened, locking with his gaze. His eyes were smiling today, too, and it was hard not being pulled in to his dark brown eyes. “Oh, you’re one of those type of gardeners are you? You don’t scatter the seeds, you line them up?”

  “And you’re not?”

  “Of course I am.” She grinned. “It’s just that every time my dat helps in the garden he likes to work quickly. He’s not too concerned about nice, neat rows.” She pointed her finger. “But he has taught me a few tricks. Did you know that you can mix in a few quick-growing radish seeds to mark the carrot rows, since the carrots take so much longer to pop up?”

  Emma reached into Hope’s bucket. She dug around, finding the package of radish seeds. “Can we do that here?”

  Hope nodded. “Since we have these raised beds, I didn’t think we really needed to do it. It’ll be much easier to remember where the rows are here, but I did buy some radish seeds because I’m impatient. I don’t like to wait two weeks to see sprouts poke up.”

  They worked side by side, planting the carrots and adding radish seeds sprinkled in.

  Jonas watched, and every once in a while he offered help or advice. Hope gladly accepted both. When they were finished with the carrots she considered planting more, but Emma had returned to her balance beam act. Hope wanted this to be fun for the girl, not just work, so she decided to wait. She had plenty of time to plant in the morning, and the many early mornings to follow.

  “Hope, what do you love about gardens?” Jonas asked as they watched Emma chase a butterfly.

  “I love everything—the soil, new buds, tiny roots, Jerusalem Crickets, roly-polies, the scent of dirt.”

  He nodded, agreeing. Then he looked at her, lifting his eyebrows. She waited, having a feeling he had something to ask.

  “What? What is it?”

  “What do you think about the children getting involved in the garden? The children from the Amish school. There are miracles in the soil, don’t you think? Art and science too.” He winked. “We can measure plant growth and look at root patterns. We can study clouds, weather patterns, and insects. And then when it’s time for harvest, the kinner can taste their efforts.”

  The joy of the moment faded as if a dark cloud had moved over her. Feelings of anxiety somersaulted through the pit of her gut. Tension built in the center of her chest and crawled outward—a sharp, creeping heat. Helping one little girl and spending time with Emma was one thing, but she couldn’t imagine dozens of students running around, shaking seeds out of packets and climbing over her raised beds. Her stomach ached just thinking about it. The idea of a quiet sanctuary dissipated like the morning dew under the hot Florida sun.

  Hoping to hide her worry, Hope pulled a handkerchief from her garden apron and dabbed her forehead.

  A brief silence hung over them as she attempted to find her words. “Wouldn’t it be hard to walk all this way with the children? It has to be a mile. I’m sure if you asked Noah he could build planters over at the school. There’s a grassy area around the side, isn’t there?”

  Jonas’s smile fell. It wasn’t the answer he expected.

  “That is a possibility, but there isn’t great access to a good water source over there. And the only area on the school property that has enough space is on the west side of the building, which is shaded most of the day. I just don’t see how that could work.”

  The tone of Jonas’s voice changed too. A stab of regret dug into her heart. Hope scolded herself. Be more open… don’t always think of yourself now. Wasn’t that part of being Amish, living in a community and caring for each other?

  Like Vera had mentioned, the Pinecraft children would benefit from growing a garden. They’d be able to learn a lot too. Also, opening up the garden to the schoolchildren meant that she’d have a chance to spend more time with Jonas. Yet even though it logically made sense, her heart cinched up and refused to submit. What purpose would there be for her to stay in Pinecraft if she didn’t have a garden of her own? None. None at all.

  “Too much shade and no good water source. Those are problems.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Can I think about it?”

  The gaiety had disappeared from his eyes, replaced by a troubled frown. “Are you saying you don’t want us around?”

  Hope bit her lower lip, feeling both selfish and foolish. She’d wanted this garden to be a place of retreat and peace. She was already being invaded by friendly neighbors, and the flow of visitors would most likely increase as word got out.

  Bringing children into her space would be even worse. A neighbor might want to watch her work or offer advice, but children could undo her good work. She cringed, thinking of dozens of little hands digging around in her soil, messing with the plants, disturbing new shoots, and interrupting growth cycles as they dug down to check the size of root vegetables or attempted to pull weeds and pulled up the plants instead.

  “I’m just saying I want to think about it,” Hope finally answered. “And I need to talk to Lovina. After all she’s the one who set up all of this. It was her idea to start with.”

  “Ja. Of course.” He narrowed his gaze. “So Lovina hasn’t talked to you?”

  “About what?”

  “Oh, just about this garden. About, uh, the ideas for it… ”

  Hope threw her hands up in the air. “Can you be more specific than that?”

  “Why don’t you talk to her? I don’t want to get in the middle of it.” He shrugged. “It’s just that when she and I talked, I had a different idea of what this whole thing was about.”

  Hope glanced up to the sky, wondering when Jonas and Lovina had talked. She was also confused why their conversation hadn’t included her. It was as if they had a planned destination when she was just getting used to the idea of going on a journey.

  She folded her hands into a tight ball, ignoring the dirt under her fingernails. Then she dared to look at him again. “I will talk to her. We’re supposed to talk tonight, in fact. I’ll mention what you said—about the children from the school. And I’ll be asking some tough questions my
self.”

  “Listen, if it’s going to be a problem—”

  “I’ll talk to her.” Hope interrupted his words. She brushed her hands together, wiping off the dirt. Her stomach tightened down again and all the happy feelings of the hours before vanished.

  Silence hung in the air, and she turned her back to Jonas. She bent down and sorted through the seed packets, trying to decide what to focus her attention on next. She heard the scraping of a hand rake on the soil, and she glanced up to see that Emma had moved to one of the other garden plots. She pulled the rake through the soil with slow, measured pulls, just as she’d been taught. Her lips were turned down, and Hope had no doubt she’d overheard the conversation.

  As Emma worked, her eyes flickered to Hope and then back to her work again. She just wants my approval. She simply wants to know that things are all right and I’ll still be her friend.

  The next time Emma glanced over, Hope offered a smile. “You’re doing a gut job, Emma—just like you were shown.”

  The girl nodded, but her sad expression didn’t change. Jonas seemed forlorn too. He stood not five feet from her, but they felt worlds apart. He stared up at the tree on the other side of the fence and watched a small cluster of parrots chirping and jumping from branch to branch, but she could tell his thoughts weren’t on the birds.

  Hope drummed her fingers on the concrete block. Was he thinking about her—thinking about how selfish she was being? It wasn’t like she’d asked him to take ownership in this or to help. Maybe Lovina had, but she hadn’t. Yet even as she tried to justify her words and actions, she didn’t feel better. She’d do anything to go back to the laughter and smiles from earlier. Emma’s slumped shoulders broke Hope’s heart.

  Hope sighed. She should have held her tongue. She should have told Jonas that they could discuss this later, when Emma wasn’t around. Just because Hope didn’t want dozens of kids in her garden didn’t mean she didn’t want Emma around. She hoped the young girl knew that.

  Jonas moved down the row, checking all the connections of the pipes to the raised beds as if it were the most important task in the world. A weight settled in the pit of her stomach. She wanted to help him, but something held her back.

  Watching him, there was an even bigger conflict in her soul than whether or not she wanted the children in the garden. It was Jonas. The schoolteacher was handsome—too handsome. And the way he looked at her with those dark eyes, it was as if he was peering right into her soul. The more she was around him the more she wanted to be around him, and that didn’t make sense for someone who liked to be alone, liked her peace. The more she let him in—let anyone in—the more conflict she’d have in her life. Working alone in her garden was so much easier than letting others in.

  Should I open my life to him? My heart to him? What would come of it if I spent more time with him? Is that what I want—who I want—for my future?

  Just a few weeks ago she knew what she wanted for her year. She’d made a plan. She’d move in May. She’d already sent a letter asking Eleanor for work, but now she didn’t know what she wanted—except to know what Lovina and Jonas were up to.

  “I’ll talk to Lovina tonight,” she repeated again. “She’s too busy at the pie shop during the day.”

  “Ja. That’s fine. Maybe I’ll stop by tomorrow to check.”

  Hope released a breath, wondering why this was such a pressing matter. “Ja, fine.”

  She straightened and tried to think of something else to talk about. “So, how’s Hannah?”

  “My cousin?” He stroked his chin, letting his hand brush down his beard. “Fine, I suppose. She’s on bed rest—still has three months to go with her pregnancy. With Ruth Ann tending her, the doctors believe she should be able to make it to 35 weeks… I think that’s how you say it.”

  “And school’s going well?”

  “Ja. Better than I expected. I teach fourth through eighth graders, mostly girls. They like to read and we’re reading some books together. I started reading Rascal to the class.”

  “I remember our teacher reading that one. Do you change your voice as you read?”

  “Of course.”

  “That’s kind of you. I can’t think of many brothers who would do the same.”

  “Changing voices?” Finally a smile broke, and Hope was happy to see it.

  “Ne, teaching school.” She chuckled. Her heartbeat slowed to normal, and it felt good not to have the tension tightening her gut.

  “The truth is it was as much for Emma as it was for Ruth Ann. It’s been a hard few years, and my sister reminded me that she’s just a little girl. I thought the sunshine and meeting new friends would be good for her… and then there’s the garden.”

  “The garden?”

  “It’s all she talked about when she found out we were putting it in. I’ll apologize in advance—I’m sorry if she doesn’t give you a moment’s peace.”

  “Oh, I won’t mind.” Hope glanced over to see Emma studying a ladybug on her finger. “I enjoy having her around. She could be my sidekick every day.” And as Hope said those words their truth resonated within her. She smiled. “I’ve never had a shadow like her before, and I think I’m going to like it.”

  It’s just everyone else I have to worry about.

  Sowing

  Nearly all gardeners waste seed by sowing it too thickly. This also wastes labor as the seedlings later must be thinned by hand to a spacing that will allow proper development. Poor growth and poor-quality vegetables are obtained if the seed is sown too thick and the plants are not thinned out to proper spacing in the row. Don’t buy more seed than you need to plant. Don’t plant more seed than you need to get started.*

  * Victory R. Boswell, Victory Gardens, United States Department of Agriculture Miscellaneous Publication No. 483, Washington, D.C., Issued February 1942, 9.

  Chapter Fourteen

  A man who gives his children habits of industry provides for them better than by giving them a fortune.

  AMISH PROVERB

  Realizing that she hadn’t made dessert for the family dinner, Hope paused on the walk home by a small sign: “Whoopie Pies for Sale.” She bought seven of them from the sweet lady inside, taking them home. Faith and Joy were sitting on the front porch when she arrived. She approached with her garden tool bucket in one hand and the box of whoopie pies in the other.

  Seeing her, Faith stood and rushed over. She took the box of whoopie pies from Hope and eyed her curiously.

  “What? What’s wrong?”

  Faith reached up and touched Hope’s forehead with the back of her hand. “Are you feeling all right?”

  “Ja?” Hope pulled her head back. “I’m feeling fine. Why?”

  “You made dinner—there was a note on the counter. And you brought home whoopie pies?”

  Hope smiled at the curiosity in her sister’s gaze. “I make dinner most weeks.”

  “Ja, but this is gut food. And you actually cooked something.”

  “I cook.”

  “Soup. You make soup.” Faith turned toward the house. “Joy and I have come to call Thursdays ‘Soup Day.’ But not today. What are we going to call Thursdays now?”

  Hope followed her. “I came across an interesting recipe, that’s all.”

  Joy watched as they approached. She had an embroidery hoop on her lap and was putting the finishing touches on a palm tree.

  “I told you she was sick… ” Joy put the hoop down on her lap and touched her cheek dramatically. “Lovesick.”

  Laughter burst from her sisters, and Hope sighed. She moved toward the house. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Oh, really now. And who were you just spending the last two hours with?” Joy asked. “Emma Sutter is adorable… and her dat is handsome too.”

  Hope turned. “They’re friends, nothing more.” Hope hid her smile as she said those words. From her sisters’ wide-eyed expressions she could tell they didn’t believe her.

  “Ja, and Lucy
and Virginia are your friends, too, but you haven’t been spending time with them lately. These new friends seem so much more interesting, don’t you think?”

  Hope pressed her free hand to her cheek, hoping it wasn’t turning pink. “Do we really need to talk about this now? I need to get dinner in the oven.”

  “Exactly.” Faith pointed into the air. “See, right there. You’re saying stuff like that. That’s how I—we—know you’re lovesick.”

  “Fine, if that’s what you want to think.” She set her garden tool bucket right inside the door. “Just know that if I am interested in Jonas Sutter nothing will happen quickly. His heart has been hurt, and then there’s his little girl to think about. I wouldn’t want her to get the wrong idea. I wouldn’t want to do anything to hurt her heart. I care about them like I would any other Amish family.”

  Joy nodded. “You may say that, Hope, but with those very words—with your concern for their hearts—it’s proving how much you care. Lots. You care lots.” Joy shrugged. “We don’t mean to tease you, really we don’t. Faith and I just rather enjoy our older sister falling in love.”

  Voices rose and conversation filled the room around the dinner table. Everyone loved the new recipe, and Hope promised to try something new the following Thursday. There were lots in Pauline’s garden journal to choose from.

  Joy had finished eating, and she now looked through the journal. “Oh, here’s a recipe for pea-pod soup.”

  “Pea-pod soup?” Mem leaned closer. “I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

  “This journal was written during World War Two,” Hope explained. “Many people started vegetable gardens because so much of their food was being shipped away to the troops. They had to use everything—nothing went to waste.”

  Joy stood and began to gather up the dirty dishes. “I just don’t understand. I’ve met Janet before a few times. She’s a sweet older lady, but I never heard about her Victory Garden before now. I’m just a little hurt that she let you borrow the journal and not me.”