by Ruth Reid
ADD SLICED STRAWBERRIES TO LARGE MIXING BOWL, FOLD in Cool Whip, sprinkle ½ package of Crystal Light and mix together. Chill 15 minutes before serving. Enjoy!
SWEET AND SPICY CHICKEN SALAD
4 chicken breasts, cooked and cut into cubes
1 cup mayonnaise
1 tsp. smoked paprika
1 tsp. red pepper
1 T. capers
½ stalk of celery sliced thin
⅓ cup grapes, halved
⅓ cup pineapple chunks, drained
⅓ cup chopped walnuts (or pecans)
6 crescent rolls
Place cooked and cubed chicken in bowl. Add celery, grapes, pineapple, and walnuts and mix together with chicken. In a separate dish, mash capers (the back of a spoon or the flat part of a knife works well). Add Mayonnaise, smoked paprika, and red pepper and mix thoroughly. Combine chicken and mayonnaise sauce together. Keep chilled until ready to use.
This chicken salad goes well with crescent rolls as a sandwich or scooped onto a bed of lettuce for a low-carb option.
Tip: I bake the chicken breast with lemon and heavy pepper.
AN EXCERPT FROM BUILDING FAITH
CHAPTER ONE
FAITH MILLER RAN HER PALM ACROSS THE SMOOTH, cherry wood surface of the bread box, then blew sawdust off the top. The cherry was fancy for something as simple as a box to hold bread, but the wood had belonged to her grandfather, and she wanted to use it. Fine particles of dust floated in front of her, dancing in the air of her grandfather’s woodshop. This was her sanctuary. She had loved being here as a small child, helping Grossdaadi with his various woodworking projects. It had been a hobby for him, a serious one. He would have rather been a carpenter than a farmer.
Like her grandfather she loved the smell of the wood, the feel of the sawdust on her hands, the precision of measuring to one fifteenth of an inch. She stood back and inspected the bread box, a birthday gift for her mother. A little more light sanding, a few coats of varnish, then a clear coat, and the box would be finished.
She ran her fingers across the sleek, soft wood again and listened. Her grandfather used to tell her the wood talked. Not in words, of course, but it spoke to him on a soul level. Wood had never spoken to her, but she didn’t have the deep connection with carpentry and woodcrafting her grandfather had. She yearned for it and spent as much of her spare time as she could increasing and perfecting her skills.
She stood up and stretched. It was late—very late. She should’ve gone to bed hours ago. She had to get up early in the morning to go to her job at Schlabach’s Bulk Food store with her younger sister, Grace. But as each hour had passed, she kept telling herself just a little bit longer, a little bit more work, and then she would stop. She needed to sand down the top of the bread box until it was glass-like smooth. She eyed it critically. The surface still wasn’t perfect but it would have to do, at least for tonight.
Faith pushed back the stray strand of hair that refused to stay in her kapp and glanced out the shop window at the inky darkness. She didn’t accomplish everything she had wanted to, but she was tired, a feeling she’d been increasingly familiar with. It had always seemed that way lately—so much to do, but not enough time to do it. At twenty-two she’d learned the hard lesson that life was precious and time was short. She didn’t want to waste a single minute.
She turned off the lantern and walked out the door, stepping into the night air, cicadas and bullfrogs punctuating the dark silence. The house where she lived with her sisters and parents was a few yards away. Everyone would be asleep by now. Like I should be. She could barely make out her footsteps as she stumbled to the back door, but she didn’t dare turn on her flashlight. If her father knew she was out so late, she’d get another lecture, another reminder that “early to bed, early to rise makes a man wise.” Perhaps working on a bread box well past midnight wasn’t the wisest decision, but it was worth it.
She crept into the house and slipped off her shoes, then carefully made her way up the stairs and opened the door to the bedroom she shared with her twenty-year-old sister, Grace. Her other sisters, Charity and Patience, were in their bedroom down the hall. They were still in school, and in the morning the family would be bustling to get to their jobs and to the schoolhouse, all under the supervision of her mother.
As soon as Faith shut the door, Grace turned on the battery-operated lamp. Faith jumped. “Grace,” she hissed, squinting her eyes in the bright light. “What are you doing up?”
Grace folded her arms and leaned back against the pillow, her ash-blond hair in a long braid that hung over her shoulder. “You woke me up.”
“Sorry. I was trying to be quiet.”
“Not quiet enough. Where have you been?”
Faith unpinned her kapp and set it on the dresser. “I was out in the woodshop.”
Grace glanced at the small clock on the bedstand. “It’s almost one a.m.” Her grin turned sly. “If I didn’t know any better, I would have thought you snuck off to geh visit somebody.”
Faith grimaced. “I would never do that.”
Grace arched a dark-blond eyebrow. “Never?”
Faith’s cheeks heated but she didn’t look at her sister. “That only happened one time. Now, turn off the light so I can put on mei nightgown.”
Grace chuckled. “Guess I hit a nerve,” she said before turning out the light.
Faith heard the rustling of covers as her sister settled in bed. She quickly changed into her nightgown and got into the twin bed on the opposite side of the room. She closed her weary eyes to say a quick prayer.
“I was worried about you.” Grace’s soft voice lilted in the darkness.
Faith’s eyes opened, even though she couldn’t see her sister. “Why would you be worried about me?”
“You’re spending a lot of time in Grossdaadi’s woodshop. More time than you used to.”
Faith closed her eyes again. “I have work to do.”
“You have work to do during the daag. Work you get paid for. That should be yer priority.”
Holding in a sigh, Faith bit her tongue before she said something she would regret. Nothing like getting a lecture from my little sister. “I take mei job at Schlabach’s seriously. So far there hasn’t been a problem.”
“Then why did I have to wake you up yesterday morning to get ready for work?”
Oh. Faith had forgotten about that. “So I slept in a bit. Usually I’m up before you. Now, quit talking so I can get some sleep or you will have to wake me up again come sunrise.”
“See, you’re already crabby.”
“Gute nacht, Grace.”
“ ’Night, Faith.”
Faith closed her eyes again, but she wasn’t near sleep like she’d been moments ago. Her sister was right. She had been spending a lot of time in the woodshop. But Grace didn’t understand. Nobody understood. She needed to be out there. She needed to work on her projects. They gave her purpose, much more purpose than working in a bulk food store, cashing out customers and straightening shelves of flour and salt and baking supplies. If she knew there was a way she could sell the small projects she made so she could do woodworking full time, she would. But no one in her church district took her work seriously. The one time she had suggested taking a small birdhouse to Schlabach’s to see if it would sell, her father had given her a look that could melt ice cubes. “You have a job,” he’d said. “One that is appropriate for a woman.” Then he’d gone back to reading his paper. End of subject.
This time Faith couldn’t keep herself from sighing. She flipped over on her side. There was something else nagging at her. Or rather someone else intruding on her thoughts. She blamed Grace for bringing him up. Thanks to her sister, Faith couldn’t stop thinking about the time she actually had snuck out of the house to meet someone. Silas Graber.
They had just started courting, and one Saturday evening last fall he came over after everyone had gone to bed. It had been pitch-dark outside, much like tonight. He’d tossed pebbles at
her window until she met him in the backyard.
“You’re going to get us in trouble,” she’d snapped. “It’s a miracle you didn’t wake up Grace.”
“Kumme on.” He put his hands on her waist. “Nothing wrong with having a little fun.”
“This isn’t fun.” But her heart thrummed with excitement. “It’s risky.”
“I’ll take the blame. If yer daed discovers us, I’ll tell him you found me irresistible.”
“Ooh.” She lightly batted his shoulder with her fingers. “What am I going to do with you?”
“You can kiss me, for starters.”
She’d found out later that Grace had only pretended to be asleep and knew exactly what Faith was doing. She should have known then that her relationship with Silas wouldn’t work. She’d always followed the rules—with the exception of that night—and Silas played by his own rules.
She pressed her lips inward, forcing the memory out of her mind. Which wasn’t easy. She had been willing to marry him at one time. Thankfully she had realized the kind of man he really was. Irresponsible. Selfish. Undependable. She’d come so close to making the biggest mistake of her life almost a year ago when she’d become engaged to him. Then tragedy had struck, revealing his real character. Breaking up with Silas had been the best decision she’d ever made.
Still, she felt a pinch in her heart. Like her memories, she tried to ignore it. She was over him—for good.
Silas ran his hand through his hair and pulled on the ends. He looked at the paperwork on the kitchen table. A stack of bills to the right and the accounting book to the left. It was late, nearly one in the morning, and his brain was swimming with numbers that didn’t make sense. He didn’t have much of a head for figures. Never had. It had taken him years to learn how to measure accurately, which was a necessary skill for his job. He’d been happy to eyeball things, but that always ended up ruining whatever project he was working on. At first his father had been patient in teaching him. But eventually he accused Silas of not paying attention. There had been a nugget of truth in that, especially when he was younger. Silas would eventually take over his daed’s carpentry business at some point. Unfortunately, that time had come sooner than either of them had imagined.
He stared at the bills again. They needed to be paid. Some were even overdue. He had work lined up for the next couple of weeks, but no new orders after that. Normally he would be happy for the break, which would give him a chance to go fishing. He hadn’t been near a creek or river in weeks, and he missed the quiet peace he always found when casting his line into the water. But fishing didn’t pay the bills and he needed more work. It didn’t help that a new carpentry shop had opened up a few miles away, further diluting what was already slow business.
He needed to go to bed. He had to open up the shop in the morning, and he’d already worked four hours after closing today. For the past two months he’d been handling most of the work himself. His father helped out when he could, but for the most part Silas had the responsibility of running the shop, filling orders, taking care of accounts, and making sure the business—and their family—didn’t go under.
All that required organization—and he had never been organized. Another one of his downfalls, one that used to drive his father crazy. But now his daed didn’t say anything about Silas’s lack of focus, which had improved recently out of necessity. He didn’t say much lately, not since Mamm . . .
Silas pushed away from the table and stood. He arched his back, then went to his room upstairs. He was tired. Bone weary, really. But he wouldn’t let his father down. He’d done that before. He’d let too many people down, Faith most of all.
He shook his head. He needed to stop thinking about her, stop nursing the pain that had been in his heart since she ended things between them. They had been apart for nearly half a year after dating for two, and he needed to move on. Some days he thought he had. But when he was tired or lonely or . . . anything . . . he missed her.
Yet how could he move on when they lived in the same church district and saw each other every other Sunday? They didn’t speak, but just seeing her was enough to remind him of the good times . . . and the bad. Near the end the bad had outweighed the good.
He fell into bed, closed his eyes, and was instantly asleep. The next morning he rose early, fixed coffee, and started on breakfast. He’d finished cooking the sausage links by the time his father came into the kitchen, bleary-eyed.
“Rough night?” Silas asked, his tone heavy.
“Ya.” Daed sat down.
Silas nodded and took a sip of his coffee. Then he poured a cup for his dad and set it in front of him. “Breakfast?”
“Kaffee will be fine. Make yer mamm a plate, though. I’ll take it to her.”
He did as he was told, adding one sausage link to the scrambled eggs and toast he had at the ready. He set the plate in front of his father. Giving Silas an appreciative smile, Daed said, “I’ll be out later this morning to help you in the shop.”
“I’ve got it under control.” Silas ignored Daed’s skeptical look. “Really, I do.”
“I need to work, at least when I can.”
Silas nodded, relenting. But he knew his father may or may not be able to work today. And Silas needed to be prepared for that. It was time for him to grow up, to be responsible. He was twenty-two years old but he’d spent his entire life acting like a kid. Then the diagnosis came, changing his life and his parents’ lives forever.
His father picked up the plate. “I’ll see you in a little while.”
Silas nodded as his father left. He downed his coffee, inhaled the eggs and toast, washed and dried the dishes, then went out to open up the shop. He started mixing up the mahogany wood stain he would apply to a china hutch that needed to be ready for a Yankee customer by tomorrow afternoon. He’d barely finished preparing the stain when the bell above the door jingled. He turned to see his friend Melvin Weaver walk in.
“Hey,” he said, putting down the container of stain. “What brings you here so early this morning? I figured you’d be at the harness shop already.”
“I’m on mei way. I’ve been meaning to come by before, but we’ve been so busy with the haus, time got away from me.”
“I know how that is.” Silas put his hands on his hips. “What can I do for you?”
“We’ve got the kitchen framed in and drywalled,” Melvin said. “I’d like to hire you to build the cabinets and do the flooring.”
Silas had to keep his jaw from hitting the floor. Melvin was getting married in a couple of months, and he was working hard to get his future home ready. Silas mentally calculated how much money he’d profit from making and installing cabinets and installing flooring in the spacious house. The cash would go a long way toward paying the bills. He couldn’t believe his luck. No, not luck. God was answering his prayers. Maybe that’s why business had slowed. God knew Melvin would need a carpenter, and the Lord was dropping the opportunity on Silas’s doorstep. “Wow,” he finally said, at a loss for more words.
“I know it’s a big project, but you do great work, Silas. I want these cabinets to be perfect for Martha. You’re the best there is, next to yer daed.”
“He taught me everything I know.” Silas was pleased by the compliment. He did have natural skill, an intuition about how to create something beautiful out of raw materials. His father had admitted that several years ago, which had only added to Daed’s frustration with him. “You’re wasting the talent God gave you,” he’d said more than once. “You need to focus instead of daydreaming.”
But his father hadn’t realized that daydreaming and imagining were part of the process for him. In Daed’s defense, Silas hadn’t realized how important focus and discipline were. He was learning that lesson now. “Martha will have the best cabinets in Middlefield,” he promised.
“Gut.” Melvin grinned. “I’ll pay top dollar too.”
Silas almost leaned against the counter with relief. The Lord provided the opportu
nity. All Silas had to do was not mess up. “I’ll have to work on the installation during the evenings and weekends though, for the next couple of weeks. Mamm . . . she hasn’t been feeling well. I’ve been taking care of things here at the shop while Daed is . . . helping her.” Daed insisted on keeping Mamm’s condition a secret as long as possible. The man could be so stubborn. They could use the community’s help. But he wouldn’t argue with him. Daed was suffering as much as Mamm, and Silas would let his father deal with the pain in his own way.
Fortunately, Melvin didn’t pry. “Can you get the work done before the wedding?”
Silas did a few calculations in his head. Then he redid them just to make sure they were right. “Ya,” he said. He’d get it done. “I’ll stop by and take some measurements after work today.”
“Sounds gut.” Melvin looked at the clock on the carpentry shop wall. “Speaking of work, I need to get to the harness shop. Martha’s daed doesn’t abide lateness.” He turned to leave, then paused. “The haus is unlocked,” he said over his shoulder, “so feel free to go right on in.”
“I will.” Once his friend was gone, Silas let out a whoop of joy. Finally, some good news. Now he was seeing—and feeling—some hope. God, You are good.
CHAPTER TWO
A FEW HOURS AFTER SHE ARRIVED AT SCHLABACH’S, Faith was surprised to see her cousin Martha walk into the store. She smiled, happy to see her. “It’s the middle of the daag,” Faith said. “Are you off work already?”
“I’m on lunch break.” Martha’s smile brightened her pretty face. She and Melvin Weaver were engaged to be married, and even though they hadn’t announced their engagement at church yet, it wasn’t a secret. The entire district knew the wedding would be soon.
Martha was not only Faith’s cousin, but one of her closest friends. Yet this past year they hadn’t spent much time together. Faith could blame Melvin for that, since Martha did spend a lot of time with her fiancé. But to be fair, Faith hadn’t exactly made herself available to Martha either, not when she spent all her free time in her grandfather’s shop. But now that Martha was here, Faith realized how much she had missed her friend.
