by Tricia Goyer
“That’s a good idea, Joy. Let’s talk to Lovina about that,” Elizabeth grinned. “But that’s not the only thing in this bag. I have something for Hope too.”
Hope waved her hands. “Oh, you don’t need to give me anything else.”
“Nonsense.” Elizabeth reached into the bag and pulled out a small wooden hoop. She handed it to Hope.
Hope turned it over, reading the needlepoint words. “Verily, verily, I say unto you, except a corn of wheat fall into the ground and die, it abideth alone: but if it die, it bringeth forth much fruit.” Her brow furrowed and she guessed that Elizabeth thought this was a good quote for a gardener.
“I bet you’ve never seen that Scripture hanging on a kitchen wall, now, have you?” Elizabeth smiled. “It’s a special verse for me. About a month after my wedding a new neighbor stopped by my house. She said she had a gift for me, but she’d been out of town. Her name was Miriam and she had twelve children, including two sets of twins. She said after the birth of her third child she was overwhelmed and weary. And that’s when she came across this verse. In the Bible Jesus is talking about His death and return to life.
“A corn of wheat yields no increase unless it is cast to the ground,” Elizabeth continued. “None of us could be called children of God now if Jesus had stayed in His heavenly glory, without becoming a man. And living the life of a family is following His example. A grain of wheat that stays in the granary has no life. There is a hidden germ of life inside, but it doesn’t sprout unless it’s sown. Once buried, what’s inside grows and bears fruit, and what’s outside falls away. Jesus’s life was the greatest sacrifice. It saved our souls. And when we die to ourselves and are crucified with Christ, we too will get the newness of life. Our eternity counts on that. But there’s a daily dying too—in our hearts. In our homes. As we die to our own desires we’ll discover a new life, coming from the inside out, that’s been just waiting for the time to grow.”
Hope pressed it to her chest. “You’ve given me a lot to think about, Elizabeth.”
“That’s a good thing… just as long as you don’t get your head into it all that much.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, child, that we need to listen to our hearts, too, not just our logic. More than that, we need to listen to God’s voice. The more time you spend with Him in the quiet, the more you learn to hear it. That’s part of that new life that grows inside you when you give yourself to Him to die.”
Elizabeth had just finished the last word when the door opened and two customers walked in. Joy rose. “I’d better get back to work.”
“Ja, and I’d better start heading back to the garden. School is almost out and I’m sure I’ll have some visitors, especially one who is going to love this apron.”
Hope walked out of the fabric store, her heart full. It tugged on her and it expanded with hope and promise. She remembered picking raspberries with her sisters. With each berry added one at a time she couldn’t feel the weight change. It wasn’t until she filled one small metal pail and reached for the new empty one that she realized how heavy the pail had become.
Now her heart felt like that full pail, and she realized how empty it had been just months before. In Ohio she’d had her beautiful and perfect garden. But this new type of love—both for Jonas and Emma and for God—was too consuming.
And she could have missed it all. She could have stayed in Ohio. Or she could have found a position as a maud quickly and moved away. Or she could have built a fence around her garden behind Me, Myself, and Pie and never become the wiser.
Hope smiled as she sent up a silent prayer to God. Thank You for all the prayers You didn’t answer. Thank You for not allowing me to hide myself in a garden. Thank You for forcing me to crack open my heart by wrapping a wet little girl in my arms.
Tears came to Hope’s eyes then, and she paused and placed her hand on the metal pole holding up the crosswalk sign. As she waited, she thought about seeds being planted and being allowed to grow.
Seeds waited to germinate until three needs were met: water, a warm-enough temperature, and a good location, especially soil. But everything started with water.
Little did Hope know that wrapping up that wet little girl in her arms would start all of this—would water the seed. Tears filled her eyes as she imagined the brackish water from Emma’s dress and the young girl’s tears seeping through her own wet dress, penetrating her skin and going straight to her heart.
Hope’s knees felt weak as she suddenly saw herself as part of God’s plan in a different way than she ever had before. It was God who’d brought her to Pinecraft—not her father’s illness. It was God who’d put these gardening gifts inside her, but He was the One who also asked for them back. He didn’t wrench them from her hand, but asked her to look at them in a different way. She didn’t have a talent for gardening to build her own pride, or even to line her own pantry. God had made her a gardener so that she could bring the people of Pinecraft together. So that she could help Amish children understand gardens and life cycles, even though they were being raised away from a farm. But mostly so that she’d have a common place to spend time with Jonas.
Thinking about it, there would be no other place that they could have gotten to know each other quite as easily and quite as naturally. Working side by side for a common goal had connected them to the community, but mostly it had entwined their hearts.
But they needed time. More time. Hope, more than anyone, knew that seeds needed time to germinate, sprout, establish their roots, and grow.
May 16, 1943
Henry is home and it’s harder than he thought adjusting to doing everything with one arm, one hand. My father welcomed us both into his home until Henry could get on his feet again. He dreams of finding us our own place soon. I hope it can happen—well, as long as it’s not too far of a walk to the garden.
The war has been a horrible thing. So much missing. So much pain. So much loss. Yet I can’t imagine where my life would be if it hadn’t happened. I’m certain I wouldn’t know my neighbors three doors down. I would have missed out on friendship. I would have missed out on so much love from Henry. Henry losing an arm doesn’t mean much to me, especially since God returned the rest of him intact. There are so many women who aren’t as lucky.
From the looks of it, the garden is going to do better than we thought this year—much better than last year. I smile at this. Somehow the little bit of knowledge that everyone brought together made the garden what it is. I knew a thing or two about tomatoes, but not enough to have lined my shelves or kept us satisfied for winter. Each neighbor knew enough of one thing to bring completeness to the whole. The garden is truly our garden in so many ways.
Even my parents have changed. Just a few days ago our cook was sick and Mother made a huge pot of sausage potato soup. That was surprising enough, but when it was clear that we had more than we could eat she invited the neighbors! Imagine that. It was a beautiful evening filled with good food and laughter.
I’ll be enjoying every meal in the days to come with thanksgiving. Gratitude not only for a full belly, but for the friends and family with whom I will be sharing the meals. The war still rages, but we have each other. For now, that is enough.
Sausage Potato Soup
1 pound ground sausage
¼ cup onions, minced
1 stalk celery, minced
4-6 potatoes, peeled into ½-inch cubes
½ cup uncooked rice
2 tsp. salt
pinch ground black pepper (or more to taste)
pinch thyme
2 ham or beef bouillon cubes
1 cup frozen peas and carrots or mixed vegetables
Fry sausage in a kettle until browned. Add onions, celery, potatoes, and rice. Add enough water to cover potatoes plus 2 inches. Add salt, pepper, thyme, and bouillon cubes. Bring to boil and simmer for 10 minutes. Add peas and carrots (or mixed vegetables) and simmer for 5 minutes longer, or until potatoes are soft. Serve
hot with crackers.
Chapter Thirty
Worry is interest paid on trouble before it is due.
AMISH PROVERB
Jonas dressed early, taking time to smooth his hands over his shirt and remove the wrinkles. His hair fell over his ears, and he considered asking Ruth Ann to trim his hair. Amish men wore their hair shorter here in Pinecraft. Instead of buttoning his shirt at the cuffs he rolled up the sleeves in symmetrical folds. The thought of seeing Hope again—of saying what he wanted to say—wedged both expectation and anxiousness in his heart.
He paced in front of the dresser and then paused to look at his hand mirror. With slow movements he ran his hand down his beard. During his bachelor years he’d shaved it close, and from the day of his wedding to Sarah he let it grow. Once married, an Amish man would never consider shaving his beard, but it felt strange to start courting a young woman and still be wearing one. He could tell it bothered Hope too. All she had to do was look at his face to be reminded that he’d been married. To be reminded that he’d given away his heart once before.
He thought of Hope’s greenish blue eyes. Can you look past the beard, Hope? Can you look into my eyes and see my care for you? He hoped she could.
Hope slowly dug a channel in the dark soil, keeping her eyes fixed on the corner of the building Jonas would walk around. She’d come early, hoping for quiet, and she’d found it. Well, except for the parrots that squawked in the tall tree just over the back fence.
A garden like this—and the quiet—was exactly what Hope had wanted. So why was there a pang of loneliness in her heart that she didn’t expect? For the last two weeks Jonas had stopped by the garden every day on his way to school. Or rather, he’d gone out of his way to come to the garden since he had to walk right past the schoolhouse to get there. Yet today he was either running late or not coming at all. She hoped it wasn’t the latter. She was getting used to seeing Jonas’s smile. She enjoyed their morning talks.
Then she heard it, the sound of footsteps. She straightened her shoulders and her breath caught a little. His eyes met hers and her heart leaped. He looked different today, almost as if he was dressed up for church. Yet he still wore ordinary clothes. And then that’s when she realized. It was his smile. There was something different about his smile.
His eyes stayed on her, and her throat felt tight, almost as if her kapp’s strings were tied tight around it. He paused and tilted his head. Then he pointed to the tree behind her. “The way you’re sitting there, there are a few beams of sunlight cutting through the branches and hitting your kapp.”
“Oh, I meant to sit here. I was planning it. I wanted to glow when you saw me.” She chuckled.
“So you were expecting me?”
She nodded, her heart in her throat. She swallowed hard. “I—I was hoping.” She touched her kapp. The sun’s warming rays caused a few beads of sweat to touch her brow.
Jonas’s hair was dark, but his beard seemed lighter. It had glints of blond and red, especially up close. The only man she’d been this close to was her dat, and she never knew what a jolt of excitement could come over her just to be near a handsome man. He smelled of nature, warm and distinctive.
“I came by this morning to talk to you, Hope. As you know, school will be over soon and Emma and I will be moving back to Kentucky—back home.”
Emotion welled up in her throat and her heartbeat quickened as she waited for his words. “Ja.”
“I have something to ask you.” He glanced at his shoes and then back to her again. “I’ve talked to my sister Judith—she lives right down the road from me—and she said you’d be welcome to move in with her. She only has one daughter left at home and plenty of room… ”
Hope’s brow furrowed. “But I don’t understand. Why?”
“Well, so we could spend a lot of time together with the hopes of getting married. Then maybe by November’s end… when harvest is done… ”
“Marriage?” Hope’s voice rose an octave. “Is that what you’re asking me, to court you?”
“That’s what I’m saying, Hope. I care about you. I’m hoping you feel the same.”
Dozens of thoughts and emotions flashed through her mind. She wanted to say yes. She wanted to give Jonas all her heart, but seeing his beard—and remembering her mother’s words—caused her to pause.
Hope reached up and rubbed her hand on his cheek. Then she moved her hand down to the roughness of his beard. “The first time I saw you—there at the creek—I thought you were married… I mean, still married. I didn’t understand yet about your wife.”
“Ja. I know what you’re saying.” He sighed. “It bothers you doesn’t it? About Sarah?”
“It’s just giving me time to get used to it,” she said. She wanted to add If we are going to be more than friends, but she stopped. There was no if. They’d already moved past that point.
Jonas’s hand covered hers. His teeth flashed—the largest smile she’d seen yet.
“What are you smiling about?”
“A simple thing really. We’re having a real conversation, and you’re not occupied with my daughter or the garden.”
She flashed a smile. “They both are wonderfully distracting, you have to admit.” She pulled back her hand.
He sighed and looked to the planter boxes. Green growth sprouted from every one of them. “It’s hard to believe we’ll be gone before most of this is harvested.”
She stepped back just a few inches, as if putting more space between them would protect her heart. “I don’t want to think about that. I can’t imagine Pinecraft—this garden—without Emma. What a boring place it’ll be.”
Even as she said those words she realized she never responded to his offer of her going to Kentucky. She didn’t know what to think of that. What if she moved there and things didn’t work out? Besides, Eleanor had written yet again asking her to come.
“You’d just miss Emma?” Jonas’s words interrupted her thoughts. His eyes held so much hope, so much love, she had to look away. It was almost too much to take in.
“I didn’t say that.” Hope’s heart swelled with love, and it was a frightening feeling. When one dared to love, one opened themselves up to hurt, and to pain. Jonas—more than anyone else—knew that.
“It’s gut that you care about my daughter, but I was wondering how you felt about me?”
Hope bit her lip. She knew what her heart felt, but how could she say it?
“You don’t have to answer that now, but I’d like you to think about something. I’d like you to consider visiting Kentucky. Seeing my farm. And the garden.”
Hope took another step back. “Can I think about that?”
“It seems that you have a lot to think about.”
Jonas reached forward and grabbed her calloused hand, kissing it. He made her feel cherished, feel like more than just a gardener. So what was holding her back?
“Dare to hope… dare to believe in us,” he whispered. Then he turned and walked away.
She was waiting for him outside the schoolhouse. He paused with his hand still on the doorknob. The children were gone, and the other teachers too. He’s stayed late to grade papers. Jonas turned and locked the door and then hurried to her.
“How long have you been waiting there?”
“Long enough to meet a new couple who just bought a house here, talk with a few Englisch ladies who were taking photos, and help a little boy get his cat from the tree.” She pointed to the tree in front of the school.
He approached her. “And how did you manage to do that?”
“I lifted the boy up, and he grabbed the scared thing.” She squeezed her arm. “I’m stronger than I look.”
“I hope so… because there’s a lot of work on a farm.” He turned to wave at an older woman riding by on a bicycle, noticing she didn’t answer that.
Jonas ran a hand down his beard and dared to look at her. Her eyes were blue-green and today they were the color of acceptance. She smiled, and with that smile th
e loneliness of Jonas’s life faded like a chord from a guitar string. Until this moment he hadn’t realized how strong the note had been, always ringing around the edges of his heart. His hand touched her arm and he smiled. Of course her name is Hope… for that’s what she’s bringing me.
“Would you like to get some ice cream at Big Olaf’s?” She pointed down the road.
“Ja, I’d like that.”
As they walked in silence side by side, Jonas sent up a silent prayer, thanking God for her. He didn’t know what he’d done to deserve two women to love—two women who loved him—but he was thankful.
They each ordered two scoops. They considered sitting at the tables behind Big Olaf’s, but instead kept walking and made their way back to the garden. They sat side by side, listening to the parrots chattering above and staring at the garden beds that held so much promise. Above all the things he’d missed, this had left the greatest void—just being with someone. Being side by side and knowing that you were wanted there.
They sat on the two chairs that they’d borrowed from Lovina’s pie shop weeks ago and never returned. Hope ate her ice cream in silence and he knew she wanted to talk. He also knew not to rush her.
“I’ve been reading in the Victory Journal and Pauline—Janet’s mother—remarried after her husband’s death. She seems happy, but I’ve been wondering about that. Wondering if it’s possible to fully love again when you’ve already given your heart away.”
Jonas moved his fingers, sliding his between hers until they locked together. “I’m not sure about Pauline. I haven’t read the journal. But if you’re really asking about me, the answer is yes.”
She turned to him and her eyes widened. “Oh… ” was all she said.
“Yes, Hope. My love for you is full and complete. Please don’t ever doubt that.”
