The Hope Jar

by Wanda E. Brunstetter

  “This is not the time or place to be popping your knuckles,” whispered Ezekiel’s cousin, Raymond, as he bumped his arm.

  Ezekiel let his hands fall to his sides and glanced toward the barn door. Still no sign of Sara, and she’d been gone quite a while. I wonder if she got distracted talking to someone in the house. Or maybe she’s not coming back at all. Sitting in the stuffy barn all that time may have been too much for her.

  Ezekiel had seen that happen with a few other people—especially visitors who weren’t used to sitting for so long and with no air-conditioning. Some young fellows who hadn’t joined the church yet would go out during scriptures and not come back in till church was almost over.

  Once when Ezekiel was in his early teens, a friend of his brother Abe walked out during scriptures and didn’t come back. Ezekiel’s dad later said that if any of his boys ever pulled a shenanigan like that, they’d be doing extra chores for at least a month. More chores held no appeal for Ezekiel, so if he left the building for any reason, he’d always made sure to return in a timely manner. Ezekiel’s father held a tight rein on his children, but he’d never been physically abusive. For that much, he was thankful.

  Ezekiel snapped to attention when Raymond bumped his arm again and pointed to the wooden bench they’d been sitting on. Scripture reading was over now, and everyone had taken their seats, in readiness for the first sermon.

  Ezekiel glanced at the women’s section. Lenore sat on the bench where she’d been before, but Sara’s place was empty. He couldn’t help but wonder what Mary Ruth and Willis thought about that. Surely they’d seen her go out, and they must realize she hadn’t come in.

  A few minutes later, with her head down and cheeks pink, Sara entered the barn and took her seat. Many heads turned in her direction, including Ezekiel’s.

  Sara clasped her hands and folded them in her lap. No doubt she was embarrassed, but at least she had come back.

  Chapter 11

  Where do you think you’re going, Son? I was talkin’ to you.”

  Ezekiel’s skin tingled as his face warmed. “I’m going out to check my bee boxes,” he mumbled, turning to face his father.

  “You can do that later—when you’re done working in the greenhouse.”

  Ezekiel drew a quick breath and released it with a huff. “Why can’t Henry help in the greenhouse today? He’s out of school for the summer and doesn’t have much else to do.”

  “Not true,” Mom spoke up from the other side of the greenhouse. “I’ve been keeping your little brieder busy with lots of chores around the yard and even some inside the house.”

  Ezekiel grunted. “Okay, okay. What do you need me to do, Dad?”

  “For starters, all the plants in here need watering. And then …”

  Dad’s words faded as Ezekiel pulled his thoughts inward. He would do whatever needed to be done here, but during his lunch break, he planned to check his bee boxes, because that was important, even if Dad didn’t think so. Afterward, he’d head over to the Lapps’ place. If he could talk to Sara awhile, it might put him in a better mood. Since she wasn’t Amish, maybe she’d understand the way he felt about certain things. No one here did, that was for sure.

  As Michelle headed for the barn to check on the pups, she kicked a small stone with the toe of her sneaker, sending it flying across the yard. Yesterday at church had been horrible. Well, maybe not horrible, but certainly not what she’d hoped it would be. “Boy, I’m still sore.”

  Michelle rubbed the small of her back. Sitting for three hours on hard, backless benches had been difficult enough, but seeing so many people staring at her when she returned to the barn was embarrassing. Michelle hadn’t planned to be gone so long, but after she came out of the Kings’ bathroom, a pretty young woman named Amy had introduced herself as Ezekiel’s sister. They’d ended up talking for a while, which made them both late returning to the church service. No one seemed to notice Amy when she slipped into the barn and took her seat. Probably because they were all looking at me—the newcomer who didn’t fit in.

  When church was over and the noon meal had been served, the only young people who spoke to her were Amy and her pretend cousin Lenore. Michelle had definitely been an outsider, but at least Mary Ruth, as well as a few of the older women, had engaged her in conversation. With the exception of Mary Ruth though, they were probably all merely trying to be polite to the newcomer.

  Ever since Michelle was a child, she’d never really felt like she fit in anywhere. Even though she’d made a few friends since being out on her own, they’d mostly been poor choices. When people like Jerry, who had abused her physically and mentally, came into her life, she was duped into thinking they cared about her. Michelle had never received much nurturing and craved even the smallest kindness anyone might have offered her. But then, whenever her so-called friends’ true colors showed, reality set in, and Michelle realized they’d only been using her.

  I’ve gotta quit thinking about this and focus on something positive, Michelle told herself as she entered the barn. And what could be more uplifting than holding little Rascal? The puppies were innocent little creatures. They knew nothing more than being fed, finding a comfortable place to sleep, and having a little love showered on them. If only life could be that simple.

  Michelle made her way over to the box and stood staring down at the litter. The pups were all nursing, and she didn’t want to disturb them or Sadie, who napped while her babies fed.

  Maybe I’ll sit over there awhile and wait till they finish eating. She took a seat on a bale of straw and took a piece of gum from her shirt pocket. Michelle was about to unwrap it when a movement out of the corner of her eye caught her attention. “Why, it’s a mouse,” she whispered, not wanting to scare the little thing. The rodent scampered across a shelf, then darted behind a couple of old jars. Michelle watched as it went into a hole and disappeared.

  While some people might have run screaming out of the barn upon seeing a rodent, Michelle had never been afraid of mice. She’d seen plenty of them during the years she’d lived at home with her parents. Her mom didn’t keep the place clean, and her dad never fixed much of anything. The place was always a mess, so it was no surprise to see a few mice scurrying through it. Even some of the apartments Michelle had rented were occupied with the plump, long-tailed creatures.

  Since the mouse was gone, Michelle focused on the glass canning jars. They looked old. Curious, she decided to take a closer look.

  Michelle put the gum back in her pocket and went to get the stepladder that had been leaning against the wall near the barn doors. After hauling it across the room, she positioned the ladder in front of the shelf. Once she’d climbed it and taken a closer look, she knew for sure they were antique jars.

  Michelle picked the first one up to inspect the bubbles in the glass, and spotted another jar behind it, only this one was a pale blue. But the pretty color wasn’t what interested Michelle the most.

  “Looks like there’s a bunch of folded papers inside.” Michelle turned the jar every which way and shook it, before pulling the wire back and removing the glass lid.

  Holding the jar with both hands, Michelle returned to her seat on the bale of straw. She reached inside, retrieved a piece of paper, and silently read the message written there. “Dear Lord, I know I’m not worthy, but please answer my prayers.”

  Michelle pursed her lips. I wonder who wrote this, and why did they put their prayer in this jar? Eager to know what some of the other papers said, she pulled out another one.

  “Lord, I need Your direction. Show me the right path.”

  Michelle’s brows furrowed. Whoever wrote these must be a religious person. Was it Mary Ruth? But why would she put her prayer requests in an old jar and leave it here in the barn, hidden behind other jars? Could it have been Mary Ruth’s way of journaling her thoughts? Should I ask her about it?

  Michelle rolled the question around in her head, studying the other pieces of paper still inside the jar.
I better not. If she did write those prayers, they were personal. She might not want anyone to know about it. For some folks, some things aren’t meant to talk about.

  Michelle heard whimpering coming from Sadie’s box, so she put the two papers back in the jar, secured the lid, and returned it to the shelf. Some other time when she came out to the barn to look at the pups or do a chore for Willis, she would take the jar down again and read more.

  Returning to Sadie’s brood, Michelle reached into the box and picked up Rascal, careful not to disturb the other pups who lay close to their sleeping mother. The pup cried in protest as a little milk dribbled down his chin. According to Willis, the puppies’ eyes should be opening soon—usually around two weeks after they were born. Michelle looked forward to watching the pups grow—especially Rascal. She hoped he would catch up to his brothers and sisters, but even if he remained the smallest, he’d always be her favorite.

  “You’re okay. I’ve got ya, boy.” Michelle spoke soothingly as she carried Rascal to the bale of straw she’d been sitting on previously. She held the pup up to her face and giggled when the little fellow licked the end of her nose. Michelle inhaled the aroma of Rascal’s sweet puppy breath. It felt comforting to sit here holding the pup and stroking its soft head. “Wish I could take you with me,” she murmured, while Rascal curled up in her arms.

  “Are you goin’ somewhere?”

  Michelle jumped at the sound of a booming male voice. A few seconds later, Ezekiel made his way deeper into the barn and came to a halt next to her.

  “You startled me.” She shifted on the bale of straw. “I didn’t hear a horse and buggy come into the yard.”

  “That’s ’cause I came on foot.” Ezekiel took a seat beside her, gently bumping her shoulder as he did so.

  “You live quite a distance away. How come you walked over?”

  “My horse threw a shoe this morning and the farrier can’t come out till tomorrow morning. So it was either walk or ride my scooter.” He gave a forced laugh. “It’s kinda hard to ride one of those on a gravel road like what’s out in front of the Lapps’ place.”

  “I guess it would be.” Michelle scooted over a bit. “Would you like to hold my pup?”

  “Sure.” Ezekiel held out his hands, and when she handed him Rascal, he nuzzled the puppy with his nose. “The little guy sure is cute.”

  “I’m one hundred percent in agreement.” Michelle’s posture relaxed. She felt contentment sitting here beside Ezekiel. He was easy to talk to, and he liked her dog. “So what brings you by today? Did you come to see Willis?”

  “Nope. Came to see you.”

  “Oh?” Michelle couldn’t imagine why he would want to see her.

  “I wanted to talk to someone who doesn’t complain about everything I do.”

  “Who’s complaining about what you do?”

  “My dad. I can never do anything right it seems. And to top it off, he wants me to take over the greenhouse someday.” Ezekiel placed the sleeping pup in his lap. “But I have other plans.”

  Michelle wasn’t sure if he wanted her to ask what his plans were or just listen. She would listen, but she wasn’t concerned with his problem, because she had enough of her own to worry about.

  “Want a piece of gum?” Michelle asked.

  “Sure, why not.”

  Michelle took out the piece she’d previously put in her pocket and tore it in half. “I only have this one, but I’m willing to share it.”

  “Thanks.” Ezekiel sat silently a few moments, chewing the gum, then lightly bumped her arm. “You never did answer my question.”

  “What question was that?”

  “When I first came in I heard you say something about wishing you could take—I’m guessing, Rascal with you. Then I asked if you were going somewhere, but you didn’t respond.”

  “Oh, I … uh … was just talking to the pup—saying I wish I could take him with …” Michelle stopped talking and cracked her gum.

  Tipping his head, Ezekiel pursued his questioning. “You mean, take him when you leave your grandparents’ house and go back to your own place?”

  “Yeah, only I don’t really have a place.” Michelle bounced a curled knuckle against her mouth. “I mean I do have a place, but I may not stay there.”

  “How come?”

  “Well, I might want to move. Besides, my landlord doesn’t allow pets, so I wouldn’t be able to take Rascal.”

  “Yeah, I remember you mentioning that on Friday. But you’ll be comin’ back here for visits, right?”

  No. When I go, I can’t come back. Michelle wished she could be honest with Ezekiel but instead added more to her lies. “Yeah, I hope to, anyhow.”

  “Willis and Mary Ruth would sure be disappointed if you didn’t come back to see them.”

  All Michelle could manage was a brief nod as she heard a van pull into the yard. “I bet that’s Grandpa and Grandma returning from their shopping trip. They hired one of their drivers to take ’em to some stores in Lancaster today.”

  “Makes sense. Especially if they had a lot of things to get. There isn’t much room in the back of our carriages—even the market buggies.” Ezekiel massaged his forehead. “That’s why I want a car or truck of my own.”

  Michelle studied the curves of his face and along his jawline. “Are you serious?”

  “Yep. I’ve wanted one for a long time, but my dad would pitch a fit if I bought one, much less drove it home.”

  “Guess that makes sense, since you’re Amish and aren’t supposed to drive cars. Right?”

  “It would be true if I’d joined the church already, but I haven’t, so …”

  “You mean you’re allowed to own a car?”

  “Well, I would be if my dad was okay with it.” Ezekiel grunted. “Some of my friends have a car. But Dad’s made it clear he doesn’t want me to buy one. Even said if I did, he’d never let me have it anywhere on his property.”

  It didn’t take a genius to see how frustrated Ezekiel was over his dad’s refusal to let him buy a car. But there are worse parents out there, that’s for sure. Just ask me. If only I could tell you, Ezekiel … I have the world’s worst parents.

  “Mind if I ask you another questions about the Amish way of life?” Michelle asked after a lengthy pause.

  “Sure. Ask away.”

  “Can anyone join the Amish church?”

  His eyebrows shot up. “Why are you askin’ me that question? Do you think you might want to join?”

  Michelle leaned against the post behind her back. “No, of course not. I was only curious, that’s all.”

  “Well, I guess anyone could join if they were willing to give up their modern way of life and abide by all the rules of the Amish church.” He reached up and scratched a spot behind his left ear. “I think it’d be a difficult transition, though, ’cause there’d be many changes that would have to be made.”

  “Like what?”

  “For one thing, they’d have to learn our Pennsylvania Dutch language. And of course change to the simple way of dressing.” He pointed to Michelle’s denim jeans. “An Amish woman would never be allow to run around in those.”

  She snickered. “No, I suppose not.”

  “Yep, in order to become Amish, an English person would need to give up most of the modern conveniences they’d become used to having.” Ezekiel shook his head. “I suppose it could be done, but I doubt many could do it.”

  “You’re probably right.” Michelle stood. “Guess I should put Rascal back with his mother and go outside to see if Grandma and Grandpa need my help carrying in groceries.”

  “Yeah, sure. I’ll help with that too.” Ezekiel followed Michelle across the room and stood watching as she placed the puppy in the box.

  “I hope things work out for you with your dad,” Michelle said as they walked out of the barn.

  “Me too, but it’s kinda doubtful.” Ezekiel’s shoulders slumped. “But I’m gonna get what I want someday, regardless of how my dad th
inks I should live my life.”

  Michelle wasn’t sure how to respond, so she hurried her steps. Apparently, she wasn’t the only person here with problems. Well at least Ezekiel wasn’t lying to his dad. For Michelle, however, every day she was here brought more dishonesty. If she wasn’t careful, pretty soon she might actually believe the lie she’d been telling Willis and Mary Ruth. Truthfully, she wished it wasn’t a lie, for she’d begun to wish she were the real Sara.

  Chapter 12

  Oh, there you are, Sara. And it’s nice to see you too, Ezekiel.” Mary Ruth smiled when Michelle and Ezekiel joined her and Willis at the back of their driver’s beige van. It was different than the one that had picked them up at the bus station in Philadelphia earlier that month.

  “We were in the barn, looking at the puppies.” Michelle reached in and picked up a paper bag. “I’ll help you carry the groceries inside.”

  “I can help with that too.” Ezekiel grabbed two grocery sacks. “It’ll give me something constructive to do before I head back home.”

  “All right, but first I’d like you both to meet Brad Fuller. Our other driver, Stan, introduced Brad to us, and he will be driving part-time this summer whenever Stan’s not available.” Mary Ruth motioned for them to follow her to the front of the van, where a young man with medium brown hair stood talking to Willis.

  Mary Ruth stepped up to him. “Sara, this is Brad Fuller. He’s attending college in Lancaster and is planning to become a minister someday.” She motioned to Sara. “This is our granddaughter Sara Murray. She’s here visiting us for the first time, and since she doesn’t have a car, she may call on you for a ride sometime.”

  Brad held out his hand. “It’s great to meet you, Sara.”

  “Nice to meet you too.” Michelle struggled not to stare at his eyes. They were the most vivid blue—almost mesmerizing. He gave a brief smile, while Michelle pulled her gaze aside.

  Mary Ruth introduced Ezekiel, and the men shook hands.