Seeds of Hope

by Barbara Cameron

  “Mr. Smith is here to volunteer information on the Maurice Johnson case, as I told you,” Mark inserted calmly.

  Thornwell gave him a cool glance. “Seems he didn’t want to volunteer any information when our detectives talked to him some time back.” He shrugged. “Follow me. We’ll have us a little talk.”

  Two long hours later, Jerome was signing a statement and it was done.

  “I’ve talked to the D.A. about arranging protection until we round up the two suspects,” Thornwell said as he took the signed statement.

  Jerome let out a shaky sigh. “Never thought I’d be trusting cops with my safety.”

  “Never thought I’d be offering you protection,” Thornwell replied curtly.

  Mark handed Jerome a business card. “Call me or Lou if you need anything. Otherwise I’ll be seeing you when you testify.”

  “Thanks, man.”

  “Thank you for doing the right thing.”

  “Tell Maurice I’m sorry I didn’t come forward before.”

  “I will.”

  Mark turned to Lou. “Let’s go get your car.” He waited until they got inside and were on their way. “Great work.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Got your last bill. I’ll give you a check and you let me know the additional charges.”

  “Will do.”

  “Want some coffee?” he asked as they came up along a coffee shop.

  Lou winced. “Had enough of the cop shop stuff to ruin my stomach lining, thanks. Think I’ll just head home and get some sleep. What about you?”

  “I’m exhausted. I think I’ll stay overnight at my place. Besides, there are some things I want to do before I head home.”

  “Good idea.”

  He pulled into the motel parking lot and stopped next to Lou’s car. “Don’t forget to add the charges for Jerome’s stay and food, whatever you spent out of pocket.”

  “I know the owner of the motel. He gave me a special price for his stay.” He held out his hand. “Good working for you. Looking forward to more when you get back to work.”

  “Yeah,” Mark said slowly. “Me, too.”

  He drove to his condo, tired but exhilarated at the turn of events. Tomorrow—he glanced at the time—no, later today, he’d be talking to Maurice and letting him know about the impending arrests. Then he’d be staying in touch with Maurice’s new attorney to make sure the system released Maurice as soon as possible.

  Mark programmed his coffee maker—no percolator on the stove here—then walked into the bedroom, undressed, and fell into bed. His last thought as his head hit the pillow was how Miriam would react to his news.

  He woke several hours later. He’d always been an early riser, but these days he woke even earlier on the farm. Tossing aside the duvet, he headed for the shower. He had a lot to do today.

  “Oh mercy, have you got more bad news for me?” Maurice’s mother asked as he climbed the steps to her porch a little later. Her mouth trembled.

  She’d aged twenty years since he’d seen her last. Maybe that would change when he told her the good news. “I’m not Maurice’s lawyer right now, but I have something to tell you.”

  She cried. Mark knew about happy tears. These were thrilled tears. She hugged him so tight he thought she’d crack a rib.

  “I wanted you to be first to know,” he said. “I’m on my way to see your son now.”

  “Praise God, praise God,” she kept saying as she took the handkerchief he offered.

  “Your son’s lawyer will see that he’s released as soon as possible, but it won’t be today so you need to be patient. Now, I’m going to go see Maurice and give him the good news.”

  “Tell him I’ll fix him his favorite supper.”

  “I will.”

  Maurice had aged as he sat in jail awaiting trial. His face looked puffy, his skin pale, and the orange jumpsuit hung on his thin frame.

  He tried to grin when he saw Mark. “I know, I look awful. And you look great. You been lying on a beach somewhere?”

  Mark laughed and shook his head. “Been working in the fields on my grandfather’s farm. Not sitting around like you.” He held out his hands. “And I have the calluses to show for it.” They were a farmer’s hands. He sobered. “I didn’t forget you. Neither did a friend of yours. Jerome Smith.”

  “Jerome?” He gave Mark a wary look. “Cops told me he didn’t know anything when they talked to him.”

  “He had a lot to say to them last night. He gave them a statement and they’re rounding up the leader of the gang and some of his buddies. The charges against you are going to be dropped.”

  Maurice jumped to his feet to hug him, but the guard standing nearby ordered him to sit.

  “Your mom gave me a bear hug,” Mark said. “And she said she’ll be cooking your favorite supper as soon as you’re home.”

  He climbed into his car and headed home.

  To Lancaster County, not his condo.

  Twenty-Nine

  Miriam took a big pot of ham, navy bean soup, and a pan of cornbread to John’s house for his supper.

  She wanted to ask if Mark had returned, but had the answer when she pulled into the drive in her family’s buggy and his car wasn’t there.

  So she delivered the basket of food, talked briefly with John, and returned home. Luke stopped by her house and asked if she wanted to go for a drive, and she agreed. Might as well, she told herself, and excused herself to run upstairs for her jacket and bonnet. It was an awful reason to be with someone—because she had nothing better to do and the man she loved wasn’t around . . . or likely to be.

  Well, too late now. She had to make the best of it.

  She slipped into her jacket and tied on her bonnet, and found herself avoiding her own gaze in the mirror over her dresser. When she went back downstairs, she smiled at Luke and they went out to the buggy.

  “I’m going home next week,” he said as they rode along one of the country roads. “Abraham got his cast off today and he won’t need my help anymore.”

  “Oh. I didn’t realize you were leaving so soon.”

  “It’s been nice getting to know you.”

  “You, too.”

  He pulled the buggy into a fast food restaurant drive-through. “I thought we could get some hot chocolate.”

  “I could have made some to bring if I’d thought of it. Saved the money. Let me pay for it.” She reached for her purse.

  “It’s my treat,” he said firmly.

  After he took the cups from the young woman at the window, he handed one to Miriam, then drove the buggy back onto the road. “The thing is,” he began, then trailed off.

  “The thing is?” she prompted.

  “I’d like to get to know you better. I was thinking maybe you could come visit my family. Ohio’s pretty this time of year.”

  She knew where this was going. “Luke, I’m sorry, but I can’t do that. I have my job here at the schul.”

  “Oh, right.” He sipped at his drink. “Maybe I could stay here a little longer.”

  “You’re not needed back on your family’s farm?”

  “It’s a slow time of year.”

  “True.” Now what? She couldn’t let him spend time here thinking they would get to know each other better when she wasn’t interested in him.

  Why couldn’t she be? He was handsome, caring, a hard worker.

  But she couldn’t make herself care about someone romantically when her heart yearned for someone else. And there was no question that she did. She sighed.

  “So maybe I’ll ask Abraham and Lovina if they’d mind if I stayed here a little longer.” Luke kept his eyes on the road.

  Miriam heard the hope in his voice and hated hurting him. “Luke, I’m sorry. I like you as a friend, but I’m not interested in having a relationship with anyone.”

  He pulled the buggy over onto the shoulder of the road. “Anyone? Or just me?”

  She bit her lip and hesitated.

  “Never mind. I
think I know the answer to that. I’ve seen the way you look at the Englisch guy.”

  “You have?” Her hand flew to her throat. If a newcomer had noticed, who else had? Other than two close friends and her mudder. “We’ve been friends for years,” she said carefully.

  “Just friends?” Luke stared ahead, not looking at her.

  “There can’t be anything more. He’s got his own life in Philadelphia.”

  “But you care for him.”

  It was a statement, not a question. She sighed. “Ya, I do.”

  “It’s so ironic,” he said. “There’s someone back home I used to think about. But I realized I just didn’t love her.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Luke gave a half-laugh. “We’re a pair, aren’t we?”

  “Ya.”

  He checked traffic and pulled back onto the road. They rode in silence for a time, sipping their hot drinks. Miriam searched for something to say.

  “I guess your family will be happy to have you back for Christmas.”

  “How are the plans coming for the Christmas program at your schul?”

  Ach, now they had a safe topic for conversation. Bless him for his kindness. He really was a nice man.

  Miriam chatted freely about the rehearsals, told a funny story about Jacob forgetting his lines, and described the decorations the kinner had been making.

  Her gaze wandered as they passed John’s farm and she faltered for a second, then recovered.

  “Is it snowing back home?” she asked quickly to cover her lapse.

  “Has been for the past two weeks.”

  “I love when it snows.” Well, that was inane. She was grateful when he pulled into her driveway. She turned to him. “Danki for the drive and the hot chocolate. And Luke, it’s been nice knowing you these past weeks. I’m glad you came to help Abraham. I hope I’ll see you again at church before you leave.”

  He smiled at her. “It’s been nice knowing you, too. I hope you find a mann worthy of you.”

  “And I wish you well finding the woman God’s set aside for you.” She slipped from the buggy, walked up the steps to the porch, and waved to him as he drove away.

  Her mudder was fixing a cup of tea when she walked into the kitchen. “You’re back early. Want some tea?”

  Miriam shook her head. “We got some hot chocolate.” She took off her bonnet and jacket and hung them on the pegs by the back door.

  “So how is Luke?”

  She sat at the table. “He may be going back to Ohio soon. He said Abraham got his cast off today.” She pushed the bowl of tea bags closer to her mudder. “I’m kind of relieved. I liked being friends, but he was looking for more.” She watched her mudder dunk her tea bag in the hot water in her mug. “I tried to like him, Mamm. I really did.”

  “He’s a likable man.”

  “Ya. But there has to be more.”

  “Perhaps with more time?”

  “He asked me to visit him. I said nee. I can’t leave schul and if I look into the distance I don’t want to leave here, leave my scholars, leave my family.”

  “Even for love?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t want to make that choice. I’m hoping I don’t have to for any man.”

  “‘For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, saith the Lord, thoughts of peace, and not of evil, to give you an expected end.’”

  “Well, for now I feel like His plans for me are to teach at the schul,” Miriam said, rubbing at her forehead. A headache was beginning to make itself felt. “I think I’ll go lie down for a few minutes, if you don’t mind. I have a headache.”

  “Ya, that sounds like a gut idea.”

  Miriam took an aspirin and washed it down with a glass of water. She went upstairs and lay down on top of her bed. She listened to the wind stirring the bare branches of the big oak tree near her bedroom window. It was a gut time to be inside, warm and secure.

  As she lay there waiting for the headache to go away, she wondered where Mark was tonight. If he was not just warm and secure, but happy. If he’d gotten such gut news about his former client being cleared of the murder charge, then perhaps Mark had already gotten a call from his firm. Perhaps he was even out celebrating with his Englisch friends.

  She wanted him to be happy. Even if his happiness made her miserable.

  Mark’s cell phone rang as he was driving to Lancaster County. He used the hands free feature to answer.

  “Mark! Saw the news about the charges against your client being dropped. Congratulations.”

  It was his boss at the law firm. “Thank you, sir.”

  “Surprising turn of events.”

  “Yes.”

  “Give my assistant a call tomorrow and set up an appointment for us to meet.”

  “I’ll do that. Thank you, sir.” Before he could say anything else, he heard the click of disconnection.

  Well. He’d gotten the call he’d wanted for so long. How many times had he dreamed about it, imagined how he’d feel about receiving it?

  Now it just felt anti-climactic.

  Mark remembered what a passionate champion Miriam had been, how she’d expressed outrage that his boss hadn’t stood by him.

  He couldn’t wait to tell her about the call.

  He couldn’t wait to see her.

  If he were honest, he couldn’t wait to get to the farm.

  He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. Tanned, callused fingers. Farmer’s hands, he’d said to Maurice. He had earned every callus with hard manual labor that he loved.

  He suddenly realized he hadn’t missed his legal work in weeks. That gave him pause. He’d always loved spending his summers on the farm. He’d felt so at home here and loved the work.

  He had work in the city.

  He had love and family and a growing faith on the farm.

  The realization struck him with the force of a physical blow. His heart pounded so loud he swore he could hear it. He rubbed at the ache in the center of his chest. What if he’d never been forced to take a leave of absence?

  Instead of punishing him, God had opened him to a deeper understanding of what he’d been missing. So busy making a living that he hadn’t made a life? It wasn’t a cliché. It was his truth.

  The flashing red light in his rearview mirror made him glance at the speedometer. Great. He’d been going more than ten miles over the speed limit.

  He pulled over, produced his license and registration when the police officer asked for them, and apologized profusely. He didn’t assist clients with traffic offenses, but it went against all he’d been taught about offering up self-blame.

  It was his good fortune that the officer gave him a warning and handed back his identification.

  He got back on the road and watched his speed the rest of the way home. The sight of the exit for Paradise had never made him so happy.

  His grandfather looked up with a huge smile when he walked into the house. “Well, well, look who’s here. How did it go?”

  “It couldn’t have been better!”

  John got up a bit creakily from his recliner. “I waited supper for you. Have you eaten?”

  “I had a bagel for breakfast.”

  “A man can’t get by on a roll for breakfast and nothing for lunch.”

  Mark followed him into the kitchen and watched as he pulled a big soup pot from the refrigerator.

  “Miriam brought ham and navy bean soup and cornbread over the day you left. There’s plenty left.”

  They fell into their easy routine of moving around the kitchen, warming food, setting the table, pouring glasses of cold water.

  His grandfather’s gray head bent over the blessing of the meal reminded Mark of Lani’s surprise when he’d said a quiet prayer the day he’d met her for lunch.

  As he spooned up the hearty soup, Mark told his grandfather all about Lou finding the witness, about taking him to the police station, and how Jerome had expressed a desire to break away from the gang life.

&nb
sp; “I have a friend who can help him do that,” Mark said as he buttered a piece of cornbread.

  “So in saving the life of an old friend, he might be saving his own.”

  Mark paused, struck by the simple wisdom of his grandfather’s words. He nodded.

  “So now what happens?”

  “The wheels of justice start turning. Maurice’s new attorney will make sure he’s released and the record of his arrest expunged. And who knows, Maurice could well have a case for a false arrest suit, but I have the feeling he’s going to be so grateful to have his life back, he won’t pursue that.”

  “And what about you?”

  “Me?” Mark stared.

  “Now will you get your old life back?”

  Mark felt the tension his grandfather was trying to hide.

  “My old boss called me as I was driving home.”

  “To your condo?”

  “No. Here. Home.”

  “Oh?”

  “Funny thing. I didn’t feel anything when he said to call his assistant tomorrow and set up a time for us to talk later this week.” He laid his spoon beside the soup bowl and held out his hands. “When I went to see Maurice to give him the good news, he was embarrassed at how bad he looked. Being in jail, wondering if you’re going to lose your life . . . well, he’d lost weight, his skin was sallow. Anyway, I guess he could tell from my expression how surprised I looked at his appearance. But he told me I looked good. Asked if I’d been spending time at the beach. I showed him these hands.”

  John looked confused. “And?”

  “They’re farmer’s hands now, and I’m proud of them.”

  “What are you saying?”

  Mark saw the hope in his eyes. “I’m a farmer. And I’m here to stay. I’m home, Grossdaadi. If you still want me here.”

  Tears sprang into John’s eyes. “Welcome home, grosssohn. Welcome home.”

  Mark reached for his handkerchief and remembered that he’d given it to Maurice’s mother earlier that day. He pulled a paper napkin from the wooden holder on the table and handed it to his grandfather.

  “Do you suppose I could get out of helping to clean up the kitchen this once?”

  “Of course. I imagine you’re tired from all the excitement.”