Seeds of Hope

by Barbara Cameron

  Well, feeling blue was just being self-indulgent. She freshened up then went downstairs. “How can I help?”

  “Peel the potatoes?”

  “Schur.” Miriam sat at the table and began peeling.

  “So, you and Lovina are planning the Christmas play? That should cheer you up. You love putting it on.”

  Miriam glanced up and caught her mudder’s knowing look. “Lovina saw Mark coming home and stopped. She asked him how his interviews went, and he didn’t sound very confident.”

  “Hmm. Would they tell him the same day if they didn’t want to hire him?”

  “I just don’t know. I didn’t want to ask.”

  “Well, time will tell. You know our time is not God’s time.”

  Miriam nodded. She knew that well.

  Mark found his grandfather sleeping in his recliner.

  He was so still, the rise and fall of his chest so faint, that for a long terrible moment Mark wondered if he was truly sleeping. His heart skipped a beat and his briefcase slipped from his fingers. It landed with a thump at his feet.

  John jerked and his eyes flew open. “Oh, you’re back.”

  “Yeah, sorry, I didn’t mean to drop this and wake you.” His heart resumed beating.

  “Just resting my eyes a bit.” He sat up and used his feet to push the footrest back. “Are you hungry? Got a pot of chili sitting on the stove. I was hoping you’d get home soon and we could eat together.”

  “Sorry I ran a little later than I thought. Traffic was bad in Philly.”

  They walked into the kitchen and Mark frowned when he saw the chili. It looked . . . cooked down in the pot. He turned the gas flame off under it. Would it have continued to cook down until it burned and caused a fire?

  “Sit, I’ll get the bowls.” Mark washed his hands, got the bowls, and ladled chili into them. There was a box of oyster crackers on the counter. His grandfather always loved to sprinkle the round, thumb-sized salty crackers atop his chili.

  Mark bent his head for the meal blessing and remembered how surprised Lani had been when he’d done it at lunch yesterday. It was part of his daily routine now.

  “So, tell me, how did it go?”

  Mark gave a brief rundown and his grandfather listened as he ate.

  “I guess I’ll be losing you soon,” he said as he scraped the bottom of his bowl.

  Mark shrugged. “I don’t know about that. The publicity still hasn’t died down about my client being arrested a second time for murder.” He rose and took his grandfather’s bowl to the stove to ladle him a second helping.

  When he sat again, he didn’t pick up his spoon, but studied his grandfather as he ate. Was it his time away—brief as it had been—or had his grandfather aged even more than when he’d come here after being banished from his firm?

  “You’re not eating much.”

  Same eagle eye, even if he was older.

  “Had a big lunch.”

  They cleaned the kitchen, then went out to do the evening chores. Whitey, his favorite, greeted him by rubbing his nose on Mark’s sleeve. Mark portioned out feed and hauled fresh water. Then, with another Whitey nudge on his arm, he laughed and pulled out the quartered apples he always brought for the horses.

  Chores done, Mark closed the barn door and walked with his grandfather to sit on the back porch.

  “Won’t be able to do this much longer. We’re going to have an early winter.”

  “Really?”

  John nodded. “Feeling it in my bones.”

  Dusk fell. Mark set his chair moving with a push of his foot. He looked out on the fields and thought about the very different view he’d enjoyed the night before.

  And how this one felt more like home.

  He set his foot down abruptly.

  “Something wrong?”

  “No,” he said slowly. Something’s right, he realized. Something is very right.

  “I’m going in. Want some coffee?”

  “Not right now. I think I’ll sit out here for a while.”

  His grandfather stood, patted his shoulder just as he had so often. Mark’s throat tightened. He reached up and put his hand over his grandfather’s hard, worn one, and squeezed.

  “Gut nacht,” he said.

  His grandfather’s hand trembled under his and then he withdrew it. “Gut nacht.”

  Mark listened to his slow, steady steps back into the house. There was the clatter of crockery as his grandfather fixed his coffee. Then the night fell silent. Even the crickets were quiet, probably tucked up for the coming colder weather.

  He sat there for a long time, listening for His voice.

  On Sunday, he attended services at Abraham and Lovina’s house. He listened hard to Samuel’s message, sang the hymns, and was greeted by his friends and fellow church members as though he’d been gone for longer than two days.

  The Amish grapevine had traveled with its usual speed and it seemed everyone knew where he’d gone and why.

  “Gut to see you here today,” Samuel said as he settled down in a seat next to Mark.

  “It’s gut to be here.” He blinked when he realized he’d slipped again into Pennsylvania Dietsch.

  Samuel inclined his head and studied him seriously. “How are you doing?”

  “You mean the interviews?”

  He shook his head. “Nee. I know this is a time when you must be questioning God.”

  “Trying not to question. Well, I have questioned,” he admitted. “But now I’m trying to listen.”

  Samuel laughed. “Listening is gut. I’m working on it myself.”

  “Seems like you have that down.”

  His eyebrows shot up. “Really? Nee. It would be wrong for anyone to think they do, don’t you think?”

  “I hadn’t thought of it that way.” Mark pushed aside his plate. “I thought I had my life all laid out. This has been a detour I hadn’t expected.”

  “Detour?” Samuel stroked his beard. “You always seemed so certain what you wanted and went after it. Could it be that it wasn’t what you wanted after all? Could it be what He had for you?”

  Mark worked through that. “If that’s true, why would I suddenly not have my job?”

  “Only God knows that. And a detour isn’t always a bad thing, right? It’s a different path we have to take for some reason. Maybe the road washed out. Maybe a new one that’ll be better is being built.”

  “Maybe it’s to take us on a road less traveled?” Mark mused, remembering the poem.

  “Ya. I remember that.” Samuel sipped his coffee, then set down the empty cup. “Maybe it isn’t just a straight road. Maybe we should be thinking it has detours and alternate paths.”

  “Maybe I should start my own practice,” Mark said. “Maybe even do it here, so I could help my grandfather with the farm.”

  “Samuel, Mark, more coffee?” Lovina asked as she stopped by their table with a pot.

  “Danki, Lovina.”

  As she poured coffee into their cups, Mark happened to glance up to see Miriam talking with a man he didn’t recognize.

  “Mark? Cream?”

  He dragged his gaze back. “Yes, thanks.”

  “That’s Luke, a cousin of Abraham’s from Ohio,” she told him. “He’s come to help us for a few weeks.”

  “That’s nice,” Mark said.

  Lovina moved on to another table.

  “So, to return to our conversation,” Samuel prompted. “It reminded me of something that happened to me some time back. I had an out of town trip and had an Englisch driver who was very impatient with traffic. He had perhaps five cars in front of him on a two-lane road and he couldn’t pass. They were all apparently going too slow for him. Soon I noticed the cars start signaling and turning off one by one. But it still wasn’t fast enough for him. He kept getting closer—being a ‘bumper sticker,’ I believe you call it.”

  He took a sip of coffee. “It got down to the last car and he couldn’t wait. He pulled out to pass the car and the dri
ver suddenly turned without signaling. My driver nearly hit him.”

  Samuel looked up when his wife appeared with a tray of cookies. He smiled and took one. “Danki.”

  Mark accepted a cookie and thanked her. “So what I’m hearing is that, if the driver had been more patient, all of the cars would have turned off and he wouldn’t have had a near-accident.” He bit into the cookie, chewed thoughtfully. “If I follow your analogy, I should be more patient.”

  Samuel grinned. “Always knew you were a gut talker. Never knew you were so gut at listening to a simple man’s story.”

  “You might be Plain, but you’re not simple.”

  “Danki, Mark.” Samuel stood. “You know, sometimes there are reasons why God’s answer is ‘Wait.’ Now, I think I’ll get my fraa and head on home.”

  Mark glanced around. He didn’t see Miriam or Abraham’s cousin. He frowned. Then his gaze fell on his grandfather sitting at a nearby table talking with one of his friends. Apparently he wasn’t ready to leave yet. Mark took another bite of his cookie and decided he was in no hurry to get on the road home.

  Twenty-Seven

  It wasn’t often Miriam met someone new at church.

  Those attending were almost always family and friends in the community she’d known since she was born. But on occasion, members had a relative from another community, another state, or invited an Englisch friend to attend.

  Lovina had introduced Luke, one of Abraham’s cousins from Ohio, to Miriam before the service, and Miriam had become aware of his gaze ever since.

  It disconcerted her a little. While she’d gone to singings and other church sponsored youth events, she’d never felt the same intense attention from a young male—especially not by one so attractive. Luke had caught the eye of other maedels today as well. He was tall, blond, and had the deepest blue eyes. The fact that he’d come to help his cousin with his farm showed a lot about his character.

  Miriam was flattered that he showed interest in her and asked if they could go for a ride so she could show him around Lancaster County.

  She didn’t have the slightest interest in him. But she knew she should think about him. She hadn’t been interested in other men in the community.

  And she had to get over this crush she had on Mark. Her mudder had tried to make her see that she couldn’t look in his direction.

  But she found herself seeking out a glimpse of Mark. She saw him sitting with Samuel, talking earnestly. What were they talking about? Mark looked so thoughtful as he listened to Samuel. Was he telling Mark one of his favorite parables from the Bible? He so loved the way Jesus taught with parables . . .

  She sighed.

  “Something wrong?”

  She jerked her attention back to Luke. “Sorry, I was just thinking about something.”

  “That’s the guy who helped Abraham and Lovina, isn’t it?” Luke asked.

  She nodded.

  “Abraham says he’s a lawyer from Philadelphia.”

  “He is.” Maybe not this minute, but he would be soon, she told herself. Maybe it was time to be realistic and stop thinking she could ever be anything more than friends with Mark.

  “I’d like to show you around,” she told Luke.

  “You would?”

  “Schur. I have to finish helping Lovina, but I should be ready to go in about ten minutes.”

  “I’ll go hitch up the buggy.”

  She managed a smile. “Gut. I’ll be out as soon as I can.”

  Lovina slipped an arm around her waist. “I couldn’t help overhearing. He’s such a nice man, isn’t he?”

  Miriam tore her glance away from Mark and turned to look at her friend. “What?”

  “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I heard what you told Luke about showing him around,” Lovina said. “You go on. The other women can help me clean up.”

  “Allrecht, I will.” Miriam walked past Mark, who sat alone staring into his coffee cup, and went into the front bedroom to retrieve her jacket.

  The scent of snow was in the air when she stepped out onto the porch. Sometimes fall felt as short as spring here in Lancaster County.

  She stood, shivering a little, and was relieved when Luke pulled up in front of the house. After she got inside, she looked around. The buggy had been repaired so expertly it looked new.

  “So which way should we go?”

  “Take a left. I don’t remember ever seeing you here before.”

  “It’s my first time. I just got in last night.” Luke glanced around. “The trees are nearly bare back in Ohio. It’s nice to see the colors of the leaves here.”

  “They’ll be gone soon. We’re supposed to have an early winter.”

  He nodded. “I can smell snow in the air.”

  “What do you do back home?”

  “My family has a farm.”

  She’d guessed that. Those who grew up on farms were good at predicting the weather.

  “Abraham was telling me about the price of the land here.” Luke shook his head.

  “Farmers have been squeezed out for schur. Tourism has gotten bigger here.”

  They enjoyed a ride through the countryside and compared stories of growing up in families with many kinner. Luke had six bruders and two schweschders. As the youngest, he hadn’t helped with raising them as she had.

  “I guess being the eldest helps you with your teacher work.”

  “My bruders and schweschders would tell you it helps me torture them during the summer. I worry that they’ll backslide when they’re not in schul, so we do different lessons using arithmetic and English.”

  He laughed. “That would be torture.”

  “They’re always well ahead of their grade level when we return in the fall,” she said a little defensively. “Anyway, I’m busy planning the Christmas play. Will you be here then?”

  “Depends on how long Abraham needs me.” Luke glanced at her and their gazes met. “I think I’ll enjoy my time here.”

  Miriam looked away, feeling her cheeks heat. “We can go into town, if you’d like to see it. Traffic will be busier this time of year. With so many tourists on the road, you’ll need to keep an eye out. Pull over if they get impatient behind you.”

  “I will. We’re getting more tourists in our area as well, although from what Abraham says, you have more here.”

  As she predicted, traffic got heavier. She pointed out the shops and restaurants that were popular. Shops owned by the Amish were closed on Sundays, but there were still tourists clogging the sidewalks and window shopping.

  Miriam debated asking Luke if he wanted to stop for something to eat after they’d been out for several hours, but decided not to. Abraham might be expecting him, and besides, it wouldn’t do to appear too forward.

  She listened to the rhythmic sound of the clip clop of the horse’s hooves on the road and her thoughts drifted back to the first time she’d driven Mark around the area the first summer he’d visited.

  “The horse is so slow,” he’d said. “I thought the Amish bought retired race horses for their buggies.” Then Mark must have realized he’d sounded critical because he admitted that it might be slow going because he was used to riding in a car.

  “Schur, cars get you where you’re going faster, but it’s nice to relax and enjoy the ride, don’t you think?” she’d asked. “Don’t you Englisch have a saying about stopping to smell the roses?”

  “I smell something that doesn’t smell like roses,” he said and she laughed. “We sure don’t get that smell when we ride in a car.”

  She’d stopped and showed him her favorite place—a little pond where they’d taken a picnic lunch a lot that summer. Did he remember those picnics and the dreams they’d shared there by the pond?

  “I’m getting a little hungry,” Luke said, breaking into her thoughts. “You?”

  “A bit. There’s an ice cream shop not far from here. They have really good hot dogs and their soft ice cream is the best.”

  “Show me the wa
y,” he said, giving her a big grin.

  Red, Abraham’s horse, seemed to move a little faster when they approached the ice cream shop. If he was anything like her family’s buggy horse, it was probably because he knew he’d get a drink of water and some shade while they were parked there under a big oak tree.

  It took two hot dogs and the whopper-sized ice cream cone for Luke’s “little” hunger to be satisfied. Miriam had one hot dog and the kid-sized cone.

  Soon he drove her home. She was glad she’d agreed to go for a ride with him. It had been a pleasant enough afternoon and she’d enjoyed him acting as if he enjoyed her company.

  But as he drove off, she stood there wishing it had been Mark she could have spent the afternoon with. She sighed and went inside the house.

  Mark opened the latest bill from his private investigator and winced.

  “Bad news?” John asked.

  “Just a bill.” He folded it and slid it back inside the envelope.

  “Need some cash?”

  His offer made a lump rise in Mark’s throat. “Thanks, but I’m good.” He sorted through the rest of the mail Lani had forwarded to him and didn’t see anything pressing. “Did you get some good mail?”

  John had brought in quite a stack of mail for the two of them. “Got some seed catalogs.” He stood and walked to the stove. “Coffee?”

  Mark nodded and gestured at a catalog. “May I?”

  “Schur.” He set a mug before Mark. “It’s time to order for spring planting.”

  “Really?” He scanned the pages. “So are you planning to plant the same crops, or doing some crop rotation?”

  That led to an hour’s discussion about his grandfather’s plans, explanations of methods, questions from Mark about the positives and negatives of crop rotation. It was a pleasant way to pass the time on a rainy afternoon, and he could tell his grandfather appreciated his interest.

  “Maybe you’ll be around for planting season.”

  Mark felt such mixed emotions at the hope he saw in his grandfather’s face, heard in his voice. “Well, I’m hoping I’ll have a job by then, but maybe I can come back and help. We’ll see.”