Love Comes to Paradise

by Mary Ellis

  Emily burst into laughter as they left the house and marched toward the road. “Goodness, no. Those are for us to eat while we walk to work. Jonas dropped off what I baked yesterday on his way to the lumberyard.”

  “Good idea. I was afraid to eat one if this was all we had.” Nora bit into a warm muffin.

  “Most of today’s customers will be Amish. Many of the elderly have discovered they don’t like to bake much anymore. Tomorrow we’re open from one until seven, mainly seeing Englischers. Poor Jonas must eat a late supper those days.”

  “English tourists?” Nora tried matching her pace to Emily’s but practically had to run. She sipped coffee while nibbling her muffin and dribbled both down her dress.

  “No, mainly locals from Randolph and Audrain Counties. Lots of folks around here get Friday afternoons off.” Emily devoured her breakfast without losing a crumb. “The tourists come on Saturdays when we’re open from eight to six. I have to shoo them away with my broom or they would chat all day, but I’m usually down to bare shelves by then anyway. More and more tourists discover us and tell their friends. Every Amish business I know increases sales each month.” Emily paused on the side of the road. “I’m glad to hire you, Nora, because I really can use your help. If you’re any good, I’ll pay a small salary starting next month.”

  Nora pressed a hand to her chest, relieved they had stopped. “Oh, no. I couldn’t accept pay,” she said, panting. “I’ll gladly work in exchange for room and board. Besides, I inherited money when my sisters and I sold our parents’ farm. I can write to the banker in Lancaster if I need more than what I brought along.”

  Emily resumed her brisk walking. “You missed the key word in my offer—a small salary. What I had in mind will barely buy a latte or ice cream cone when you go to town on your day off.” She drained her coffee mug without breaking stride.

  “In that case I accept your terms, should you deem my work worthy.” Nora took another muffin from the basket. “And if these are typical of your bakery’s products, I understand why your business is booming.”

  “You’re good for building my confidence but bad for my prideful soul.” Emily stopped in the mown weeds a second time. “Why are you breathing like that? We’re not walking that fast.”

  “I’m out of shape, I suppose,” Nora said, gasping a little.

  “The next time Violet sees her therapist in Columbia, maybe I’ll send you to a doctor for a checkup. You might have asthma and those Lancaster County folks never figured it out.”

  Nora brightened with the prospect of seeing Violet again. “All right, as long as I pay the doctor bill. I won’t be a financial burden on you and Jonas.”

  “Just wait to see how hard I work you, Miss Draft Horse. Anyway, if we grow too rich from my husband’s lumberyard and my bakery, it’ll be harder to get into heaven. Scripture says so.”

  “How much farther?” Nora asked as they turned the corner onto a busier highway. The rest of the muffin crumbled between her fingers.

  “This is Y road. It’s much better-traveled than our township lane. We have another half mile to the bakery.”

  Nora attempted to hide her breathlessness. “What does the L stand for?”

  Emily glanced sideways. “It doesn’t stand for anything. Letters are for paved county roads and numbers are for townships, like our one hundred sixteen. They’re described as all-weather surfaces, but they’re really not much more than hard-packed dirt.”

  Blessedly, Nora didn’t need to speak for the rest of the hike. When they rounded the next bend, she saw the sign for Grain of Life Bakery and clapped her hands. “It’s adorable, Emily.”

  The white one-story building was the size of a pioneer’s log cabin with a green metal roof, screened windows that opened cottage-style, flowers and shrubs in tidy beds, and a pea gravel path leading to a parking lot. A hitching area had water troughs, a pump well, and picnic tables for warm-weather socializing.

  “We’ll see if you still find it adorable at day’s end,” Emily said as she unlocked the door and waved her in.

  Nora stepped inside and pivoted in the center of the room. There were four sets of carved wooden shelves to hold bakery items, along with a glass-enclosed display case. On the counter sat an old-fashioned cash register, an order pad, and a cup of pens. A gleaming table stood against one wall with shelves of baking ingredients above and below. The opposite wall had metal racks filled with boxes, bags, and canisters of supplies.

  “Jonas bought me that display case last year. It has propane-powered refrigeration so I can sell cream pies in the summer. One of our ministers still grumbles about what a vain, fancy extravagance it is for an Amish bakery, but every now and then he buys a coconut cream pie for his youngest daughter.”

  Nora walked to the back wall of the shop. “That is the biggest oven I’ve ever seen.” She ran her hand over the black enamel stove.

  “Wood-fired heat adds better flavor to bread than my propane oven at home. I still use it throughout the summer, even though it generates quite a bit of heat, but I keep the windows open.” Emily pointed at a functional skylight in the ceiling. “Today we’ll bake four kinds of bread, mix up batches of homemade trail mix, and make egg noodles. Tomorrow we’ll do six kinds of pie. While I get firewood and stoke up the stove with kindling, you unload what I baked yesterday. Jonas stacked the tubs on the back steps. Clean the shelves with Windex and paper towels and arrange the cookies and turnovers nicely in the display case.” Without further explanation, she bustled outside.

  Nora sent up a prayer the moment the door closed. Thank You, Lord, for bringing me here. Help me to learn quickly before Emily loses patience.

  Soon they flipped the window sign from “Closed” to “Open” and Nora’s first day of employment officially began. Between waiting on customers, kneading bread dough, and mixing granola with nuts and raisins, they barely had time to eat lunch—a jar of spreadable cheese with thick slices of multigrain bread. Nora had never stood on her feet so long at one time, yet she felt exhilarated instead of exhausted. She loved meeting customers and introduced herself to everyone who entered. However, around four that afternoon a man wandered in who required no introduction. When the tiny bell above the door jangled, Nora looked up to meet the dark eyes of Elam Detweiler.

  At that moment her heart skipped a beat inside her chest.

  “Nora King,” he murmured. “A little bird told me you had arrived. I thought they were crazy, but here you are…in the flesh.” He sauntered to the counter, still as tall and powerfully built as she remembered.

  “Elam!” she gasped. “What a surprise.”

  “Why would that be? I told you I was moving to Paradise.” He flashed a toothy grin. “You’re a sight for sore eyes.” His gaze traveled slowly from her kapp to her toes.

  As the door swung open, Emily carried in another load of wood. She stopped her in her tracks.

  “You must be Emily Gingerich,” said Elam. He lifted the brim of his ball cap.

  “And you must be Elam Detweiler. I’d heard you were in town. Funny how you haven’t come to see us yet.” Her voice held little enthusiasm.

  He scratched his stubbly chin and leaned both elbows on the countertop. “I truly should have, considering we’re practically family, your sister marrying my brother and all.”

  Emily dumped the firewood into a metal box next to the stove and washed her hands at the sink. “Something tells me you’ll be dropping by on a regular basis now,” she said over her shoulder.

  Nora turned a shade to match her dress. Folks in Paradise sure say whatever comes to mind.

  Elam raised his eyebrows. “You heard Nora and I were friends back in Harmony?”

  Drying her hands, Emily walked to Nora’s side. “Sally might have mentioned as much.”

  Suddenly Nora felt invisible and uncomfortable. “I’m working here, Elam, so did you come in to buy something?” His close proximity combined with Emily hovering like a hawk made her uncomfortable.

  �
�I did. Let me see.” He stepped back to read the sign on the wall. “Molasses crinkles; chocolate chip, oatmeal raisin, and peanut butter cookies; pumpkin whoopie pies…yummy. Has Emily taught you to bake yet? If my memory serves, you couldn’t bake a chicken already dressed, stuffed, and sitting on the counter.” Elam hooked his thumbs in the pockets of his pants. Although his shirt was Plain, the tight Levis were not.

  “It’s my first day, but I’m a quick study when I want to be.” Nora placed her hands on her hips and glared, while Emily picked up a ball of bread dough. She kneaded with far more energy than she had exhibited earlier.

  Elam read aloud the other hand-painted sign. “We use only natural sweeteners, such as honey and maple syrup, and add no hydrogenated shortening. Our wheat is locally ground, and our eggs come from free-range, organically fed hens.” He strolled back to the counter. “If the weather weren’t so balmy here, I’d swear I was back with those health nuts of central Maine.”

  “Whereas you’re just a non-healthy, garden-variety type of nut.” Nora spoke without thinking.

  “I think we’ll overlook the must-be-friendly-to-customers rule this one time,” said Emily from the table.

  Elam grinned, bringing deep dimples to his cheeks. “A point scored for Miss King.”

  The bell signaled the arrival of another customer. “Have you made your selection, Mr. Detweiler?” Nora asked, crossing her arms. Honey was no sweeter than the tone of her question.

  “Yes. I’ll take a dozen peanut butter cookies and all the chocolate chip you have left.” He pulled a twenty from his wallet.

  Nora bagged his purchase, handed him his change, and turned to the elderly customer with no further eye contact with him. And that was a good thing. Seeing Elam resurrected every fantasy she thought she had buried when he packed up and left in the dead of night all those months ago. Those tender emotions turned out to be much closer to the surface than she would have imagined. Funny things could happen when a woman came face-to-face with her heart’s desire.

  Elam Detweiler sat in his car with the radio on and the windows down, smoking what he hoped was his last cigarette of the day. Nasty habit, smoking, and also expensive. He’d promised himself he would quit when he arrived in Missouri. But here he was, still fouling his body in the land of milk and honey. Maybe the possibility of getting friendly with pretty Nora King would provide the necessary motivation.

  He’d been parked across the road waiting for the green-eyed beauty to finish work for two hours. He’d read every magazine from his backseat stash and devoured an entire dozen cookies. It was the only food he’d eaten all day, but he had never followed a balanced diet. Just when his patience ran out, Elam saw the door to Grain of Life open and the reason for his delay step into the sunshine. Without hesitation, he popped a breath mint into his mouth and bolted across the road.

  “I thought you’d never get off work,” he said once he reached her side.

  She startled, as though he’d crept up on her. “What are you doing here? I thought you left hours ago.” Wisps of russet hair blew loose from her kapp.

  “I waited to talk to you. How about a lift back to the Gingerichs’? I assume that’s where you’re living.” He bobbed his head toward his car. “Remember the Chevy? You were instrumental during its purchase, and I still owe you a favor for that one.”

  She focused across the street. “Yes you do. How was the drive? Did you have any trouble coming from the East Coast?”

  “Not a bit. She’s good on gas too. How about a ride to judge for yourself?”

  Nora buttoned her cloak over her pretty peach-colored dress despite the warm temperatures. “No, thank you. As I just arrived, I prefer to stay out of trouble for a while.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Being seen accepting a ride from a strange man? I’ll walk.” She stepped around him and headed toward the corner.

  “Give me a minute to lock my car and I’ll walk with you.” Elam sprinted across the road, but she didn’t wait. He had to run a ways to catch up to her.

  “Whew, slow down. What’s the big hurry, Nora? You didn’t find me all that strange back in Maine. Why don’t we take it easy and catch up on the news?” He took hold of her elbow.

  She slowed her pace but shook off his hand. “Strange, as in folks around here don’t know you…or me, for that matter.” She met his gaze and held it for a long moment. “I am glad to see you, Elam. I hoped we would run into each other.”

  “That’s good to hear, since I’m the reason you moved to Missouri, right?” He shuffled through the weeds to give her the smooth shoulder of the road.

  Nora blushed. “Don’t flatter yourself. I was intrigued by Sally’s stories of Paradise, the same as you.”

  “Sure. I didn’t mean to imply anything else.” He pulled her off the pavement as a truck passed too close for comfort. “Why don’t we go for coffee or a bite to eat? I’ll jog back for my car.”

  Nora shrugged away a second time. “No, Elam. I left work early to start supper at home. Emily will be leaving within the hour, so I want to have the pork chops in the oven.” She stopped walking and looked at him with an earnest expression on her face. “I don’t know where or how you’re living—whether Amish or English—but I plan to get off on the right foot with the Gingerichs. I was in hot water more often than not in Harmony.”

  Elam felt a surge of irritation. “You blame me for your troubles with my brothers?”

  She shook her head, sending her kapp strings flying. “Nein. I blame only myself. I made no attempt to get along with people…to fit in in Maine.” She turned her face skyward and breathed in the crisp spring air. “So far, I really like it here. I’m going to take things slow and think before I act.” She laughed with the wonderful musical sound he remembered. “Because traveling was such an ordeal, I’m in no hurry to pack my bag and move back.”

  They continued walking side by side.

  “You don’t want to be friends with me anymore, Miss King? I’m a memory from the past better off forgotten?”

  “Good grief, Elam. Don’t go all dramatic. Can’t we be friends in an Amish sort of way? Or have you completely jumped the fence?”

  He whistled through his teeth. “I have not. I’m still walking the tightrope between two cultures, never a man who made up his mind quickly.” He pulled her to a stop. When she faced him, he lifted her chin with one finger. “Maybe a woman like you can help me make the big decision.” Her creamy skin, soft rosy lips, and sparkling eyes nearly stole his breath.

  For a moment it seemed she stopped breathing. Then she said, “I’ll give it my best shot, but right now I need to start supper.” She stepped away again, out of reach, heading toward home.

  “Wait a minute. I have a favor to ask if we’re still friends.”

  “What is it?” She turned, shielding her eyes from the sun.

  “I haven’t found a job yet, and I’m running low on cash. I’m thinking of showing up at Gingerich Lumberyard tomorrow to fill out an application. Would you put in a good word for me?”

  She hesitated only a moment. “Sure, why not? You have lumber experience from the north woods of Maine. I’ll talk to Jonas tonight at supper.”

  Elam breathed easier. He hated asking a woman—any woman—to help him find a job, but an empty belly and an almost empty gas tank drove a man to new lows. Who would have thought Englischers wouldn’t hire without job references? He dared not list his last logging crew because the boss fired him for fighting. And his Plain brethren didn’t want to employ a man who hadn’t committed to the faith.

  “Thanks, Nora. If I don’t find a job soon I’ll be evicted. Now I owe you three favors.”

  She grinned. “You’re welcome. We can’t have you sleeping in your fancy car, no matter how much you love your Chevy. I’ll walk the rest of the way alone so you can start back. Good luck tomorrow.” Without another word, she took off running.

  Elam stared after her until she disappeared from view.

 
; You have no idea how close I am to living in my car, sweet Nora.

  Jonas Gingerich drove home from the lumberyard humming an old hymn, one of his mamm’s favorites. He’d been able to leave work on time for a change because no last-minute customers arrived just before closing. Mostly, Plain folk dropped by to purchase split rails to replace rotted fencing, two-by-fours to frame new barn stalls, or sheets of plywood for chicken coop roofs. Many drove flatbed wagons or borrowed their neighbor’s if they didn’t own one. One customer ordered wood for a new barn to be erected next month. Amish workers would load the order onto a truck trailer to be driven by an English employee. Some orders were too heavy for a team of draft horses. Jonas would pass along a modest delivery charge to the customer, not much more than the cost of diesel fuel. He had no desire to get rich, only to make a modest living for Emily…and any kinner the Lord might someday bless them with.

  He was a patient man. Contented people usually were. He had the love of a good fraa, work he enjoyed, and a position as the district deacon to keep him close to his faith. He seldom passed an evening without spending time in prayer or reading his Bible to Emily. Now a shy young woman had joined their household. Maybe Sally sent Nora south to fatten the girl up or to put color into her pale face, but for whatever the reason, Jonas welcomed the extra help for his wife. Her bakery grew more popular with each passing month, and he hated her toiling over that wood-burning oven alone.

  Jonas lifted his hand to wave at least a dozen times on the way home. As the deacon, everyone knew him or would soon meet him. The number of Amish in Randolph County was increasing rapidly as new people arrived from every direction. Most newcomers adjusted easily to their Ordnung—the rules governing an Amish community. Plain folks were taught obedience and submission to God’s will at an early age, so seldom did the bishop encounter anyone resistant to change.

  “Why do you all dress alike?”

  “Why do your houses look so similar?”

  Englischers who had been taught uniqueness and independence couldn’t understand the concept that no one individual was more special or should be singled out over any other. All were equal in the eyes of the Lord. Only Jonas’s choice of careers differed from his brothers. Whereas they loved the feel of dirt between their fingers and enjoyed growing food to sustain their families, he loved the hum of diesel-powered band saws, the smell of sweet pine sawdust, and building kitchen cabinets during the slow winter months.