The Redemption of Sarah Cain

by Beverly Lewis

  Miriam Esh answered the phone on the first ring the next morning. ‘‘Hello, Miriam. It’s Sarah Cain.’’

  ‘‘Well, Sarah, what can I do for you ?’’

  ‘‘I was wondering—may I stop by for a quick visit?’’

  ‘‘Come right over. We’ll drink some coffee and sit a spell.’’

  ‘‘Thank you, Miriam,’’ she said before they hung up.

  Ever so much , she thought, with a smile.

  Sarah was eager to get right to the subject, but Miriam was more interested in how she and the children were getting along. ‘‘Don’t you just get a chuckle over the young man Josiah? My, my, he’s the funniest little fella.’’

  ‘‘All the children are delightful,’’ she replied. ‘‘They really are.’’

  ‘‘Sounds to me like you’ve come a long way in just two weeks.’’ Miriam stirred two lumps of sugar into her coffee.

  Sarah drank hers black. She was grateful to be able to immerse herself in its aroma, blocking out some of the offensive odor exuding from Miriam. ‘‘It’s important that I do the best thing for my nieces and nephews. They must stay here in the Amish community. I certainly don’t fit in with the Plain customs and ways—never will.’’ She paused, then continued. ‘‘You, Miriam, are the best answer for Ivy’s children staying together as a unit.’’

  ‘‘Well, now, Ivy had other ideas, you know.’’

  ‘‘If my sister had thought things through more carefully— perhaps if she hadn’t been so ill—I’m sure she would have named you their legal guardian in the first place.’’

  ‘‘Well, I don’t know, really.’’ Miriam sipped her coffee, then said, ‘‘But it seems you’ve made up your mind ’bout all this.’’

  ‘‘As fond as I am of Lydia and her brothers and sisters, I believe they’ll be far better off with someone Amish. Someone kind and loving, too, like you.’’

  ‘‘Since you seem sincere ’bout this, I must be tellin’ you something.’’ Miriam’s eyes glimmered. ‘‘Ivy came to me a few weeks before she died and asked if I’d make sure her children stayed together. She said to me, ‘If things don’t work out with Sarah, will you raise my children?’ ’’ ‘‘Then you were Ivy’s backup plan?’’

  Miriam chortled, lashes fluttering. ‘‘I guess you could say that.’’

  ‘‘Well, I’m relieved, to say the least. When can you move in with the children?’’

  ‘‘I could start moving things over this weekend.’’

  ‘‘Tomorrow?’’

  Miriam nodded.

  ‘‘I’ll tell the children. I’m sure they’ll be happy with this news.’’ Sarah paused, measuring her words. ‘‘I want to do whatever I can to make the transition smooth for you.’’

  Miriam said she would plan to have some of the brethren come and move her things, store some of her furnishings in the farmhouse cellar, and rent out her little house to someone in the community. It was settled, rather effortlessly, in a matter of a half hour.

  Sarah felt better than she had in years, having cleared the air with Lydia the night before, telling her why she had dragged her feet about coming in the first place. And she had done Ivy’s highest bidding by contacting Miriam, keeping the Cottrell family intact. What’s more, she had found a portion of peace she might have missed had she not come to Lancaster County.

  On the drive back to the farmhouse, she felt the urge to pull the car over to the side of the road. Getting out, she surveyed the sweep of land—acres of the richest, most fertile soil in all of America—stretching out for miles in every direction. Ivy had often referred to the area as ‘‘God’s country.’’ Their father, too, had said the same of New England, especially his seaside haven in Rhode Island.

  Sarah stared in wonderment at the beauty around her as the sun made its gradual ascent toward the loftiest spot in the sky. Far as her eyes could behold, she embraced the miracle of God’s creation.

  Is this what drew my father to the divine Creator? she wondered.

  She amazed herself and began to talk to God. ‘‘I’ve resisted you all these years,’’ she began, her tears falling freely. ‘‘If it’s not too late . . . for me, I want to entrust my life—my future—to your safekeeping.’’

  The cry of her heart was directed to the master Creator of shell homes for millions of tiny sea creatures—the Lord Jesus, mender of broken hearts and Savior of mankind. A great peace, a calmness settled on her, and deep within she knew and understood that she, too, was one of God’s beloved treasures. For the first time, she heard the still, small voice. Unmistakably so.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  The minute she returned to the house, Sarah phoned Bryan. ‘‘I’m sorry to call you at work.’’

  ‘‘No problem. What’s up?’’

  ‘‘I . . . well, I think I understand what you meant when you were here.’’

  ‘‘Please tell me about it.’’ His voice, his compassionate response, gave her nerve to continue.

  ‘‘I talked to God today, Bryan. I know now about the still, small voice. I guess you could say . . . I’m a Christian.’’

  ‘‘Oh, Sarah, I’m so happy for you. I prayed this would happen.’’ They talked animatedly about getting together for another visit. ‘‘Sometime soon,’’ she said.

  Bryan agreed. ‘‘I’ll call you tonight. We’ll talk more then.’’

  She wanted to tell him she loved him. After all these years. But words so dear were better said face-to-face.

  Sarah decided to wait until after supper to talk with the children. Josiah and Hannah were a bit upset about the possibility of a coming snowstorm. ‘‘It ain’t springtime yet, after all,’’ Josiah piped up.

  ‘‘Ach, we’re gonna be stuck with more cold weather,’’ Hannah said. ‘‘Lots of it!’’

  ‘‘That’s ’cause the groundhog had to go and see his shadow,’’ Lydia teased.

  ‘‘Seems to me he sees it ev’ry year!’’ Anna Mae remarked. ‘‘I think it’s the dumbest thing anyone ever thought up.’’

  Sarah was glad to see Anna Mae entering into the table chatter. She observed her throughout the meal, hoping that the decision she had come to wouldn’t set the girl back emotionally. Miriam was a wonderful woman, a good woman—though she needed to bathe more often—but maybe her becoming responsible for a family might cause her to change her habits of hygiene. For the children’s sake. And, too, Sarah would be checking in on all of them from time to time. She had already assumed she would fly in and visit often.

  Lydia and Anna Mae got up to clear the table, bringing over an angel food cake for dessert. ‘‘Anna Mae baked this just for you, Aunt Sarah,’’ Lydia said.

  Anna Mae stood at Sarah’s side, close enough to touch. ‘‘I want you to have the first piece.’’ The girl grinned, showing her gums slightly.

  ‘‘How nice of you,’’ Sarah said, holding her plate while Anna Mae cut into the spongy white dessert.

  Without another word, Anna Mae scooted onto the bench next to Sarah. ‘‘Hannah’s always the one sittin’ beside you,’’ she said softly. ‘‘Is it all right if I do?’’

  ‘‘Of course, dear,’’ she said, taking a bite of the cake.

  ‘‘How’s it taste?’’ asked Anna Mae, watching her every move.

  ‘‘Delicious. Absolutely melts in my mouth!’’

  Anna Mae leaned her head on Sarah’s arm. ‘‘I’m ever so happy.’’

  Sarah fought the lump in her throat and folded the young girl in her warm embrace.

  ‘‘She likes huggin’,’’ Josiah said, chuckling.

  ‘‘Lots of hugs,’’ Lydia added.

  ‘‘We all need a nice long one every so often,’’ Sarah said, dreading the revelation of the news she must give. Tomorrow, Miriam Esh would begin moving in. All hugging aside, Ivy’s children had to be told the truth.

  ‘‘Somebody saw Levi King drivin’ his fastest horse down to the school this-after,’’ Josiah said, looking mighty sheepish.

  ‘
‘Aw, that somebody must’ve been seein’ things,’’ Lydia said.

  Caleb was grinning now. ‘‘Oh, they saw a-plenty.’’

  Lydia would never let on. Her get-together with Levi was no one’s business but her own. Caleb and anybody else could just think what they wanted. Come next fall, everyone would know. She would be published to marry Levi by late October.

  Right now she had her mind on other things. She wondered if Aunt Sarah had made her decision ’bout staying. She had a strong feeling their aunt was goin’ to tell them something important tonight. She was perty sure, ’cause Aunt Sarah had that same expectant look on her face that Mamma often got.

  It was all well and good, the children teasing Lydia about Levi King in their roundabout, good-natured way. But as each of the children finished his or her dessert, Sarah realized that what she must do could no longer be delayed. Time was of the essence. They—all of them—would need time this evening, while they were still together with Sarah, to talk things out. Little Hannah would cry; Josiah might, as well. Caleb would sulk in silence, and Anna Mae might rush upstairs to her room. Lydia, bless her heart, would be strong for her brothers and sisters; possibly even give Sarah moral support out of her genuine need to nurture. Lydia was a true gem of a girl.

  ‘‘There is something we must talk about tonight, children,’’ she began. ‘‘I’ve made a difficult decision. . . .’’

  Josiah’s eyes were big as saucers, but he said nothing. Hannah put down her fork and wiped her mouth on the napkin. Caleb coughed softly, as if signaling their silent after-the-meal prayer.

  Lydia sighed audibly.

  Anna Mae grabbed Sarah’s arm and squeezed. ‘‘Don’t say that you’re leavin’ us,’’ the girl at her side said breathlessly. ‘‘Please don’t let that be your decision.’’

  Sarah’s eyes began to cloud up the way they had at her father’s funeral. Her contacts slid annoyingly.

  ‘‘We love you, Aunt Sarah. Honest, we do.’’ Hannah began to cry.

  Caleb got up from the table and shuffled outside, head down. Josiah, too, stood up, mimicking his older brother, but he paused behind the bench, resting one knee on it. ‘‘Seems to me, Mamma made a mighty big mistake askin’ you to come here.’’

  Her vision blurred completely, but she heard the tears in the boy’s voice and the feeling of heaviness in the room. She remembered at that moment her mother telling her something so long ago she wondered if, possibly, she had dreamed it. ‘‘When you were born, you looked like a Sarah to me. That’s why I gave you the name. Sarah means ‘princess,’ after all.’’ Never again had Mother repeated herself.

  Sarah with an h, she thought. What an excellent choice .

  Mother had empowered her twenty-eight years ago by bestowing such a name on her young life. Stupidity and heartache had kept her from receiving the name-gift her parents had so graciously given.

  Until this moment, she had never felt like royalty. Lonely and searching, she’d had little connection with family. Tonight, as she composed herself and was eventually able to look into the faces of her sister’s beautiful children—her own flesh-and-blood family—a deep serenity filled her spirit.

  ‘‘No, Josiah,’’ she said, finding her voice, ‘‘your mamma was a very wise woman. She did not make a mistake. . . .’’

  Epilogue

  Sometimes, I s’pose a person must look through someone else’s eyes to see the truth—the goodness, too—that is in front of them all along. That’s what must’ve happened to our aunt Sarah, ’bout herself and the way she viewed Mamma. Both.

  On the day Miriam Esh came over to stay with us, Aunt Sarah made a phone call to her boss, tellin’ him she’d be flying back to Oregon, but only to pack, put her house up for sale, and drive ’cross country with her own car. ‘‘I’m going to live in Amish country with my family,’’ I heard her say with a ring in her voice.

  So Miriam did come and stay for a couple-a weeks, and Josiah gave her some of Mamma’s homemade soap. Not so surprisingly, she took the hint!

  When Aunt Sarah returned, Miriam was ever so glad to step aside and go back to her little house on the big spread. I figured out why Mamma had confided in Miriam and not Susie Lapp. Mamma knew Miriam could easily substitute for Sarah. Susie, a busy grandmother and older woman, wouldn’t have been a right good choice, considerin’ everything.

  Before Aunt Sarah flew to Oregon, preparing to be our fulltime stepmamma, she asked me to take her up to see Mamma’s grave. There, she and I stood alone together on Glendorn Hill, silent as the sky, looking down at the spot where Mamma lay buried. ‘‘I’m so glad we came here . . . together,’’ Aunt Sarah said. After drying our tears, we hugged each other close, staying a while longer, as we looked over the valley below, acres of farmland widening out to the horizon. Truly, ’twas a promising sight. And Aunt Sarah said so, too.

  Spring finally came to Grasshopper Level, and along ’bout the time the locust trees out behind the barn blossomed, in early May, all of us skipped barefoot through the daisy-filled meadow and had us a sunny wedding day. With the help of an English minister, Uncle Bryan married Aunt Sarah beneath the bluest sky I’ve ever seen. Hannah, Anna Mae, and I made a yellow-and-white daisy-chain for Aunt Sarah’s head covering. It was one of the happiest days of my life, for sure and for certain.

  Not for the longest time have I seen the picture of Meggie on display in Uncle Bryan and Aunt Sarah’s bedroom. Truth be told, I believe Aunt Sarah’s forgiven herself, with a lot of help from on high. She and Uncle Bryan take turns reading the Bible to us of a mornin’. At nighttime, too.

  I still catch Anna Mae mumblin’ to herself, but not near like she used to. She and Aunt Sarah are like two peas in a pod most of the time, a-huggin’ and talkin’. I even caught them napping once together, Aunt Sarah’s arm flung over my sister. I wouldn’t be one bit surprised if Anna Mae—all of us, really—are God’s second chance for Aunt Sarah.

  Well, come next November, I’ll marry Levi. I’ll keep teaching at the Peach Lane School till a few days before our wedding. A dowry was set aside for me, all planned by Mamma before her passing, Aunt Sarah told me.

  As for me marryin’ and makin’ a home with Levi, I have every confidence my brothers and sisters will be well cared for here. My leaving will free up a bedroom for Anna Mae, who’s comin’ up on twelve real soon. That’ll make an empty spot in Hannah’s room for Aunt Sarah’s baby . . . if and when that happens. And by the way Uncle Bryan and Aunt Sarah seem to fall into each other’s eyes, I ’spect it won’t be long before there’ll be another little one living in Dat’s country farmhouse. Speakin’ of bedrooms, Mamma’s old room is all spruced up modern with wallpaper and curtains, even some cut flowers!

  Uncle Bryan shorted out the electrical system the other night. Guess all that fancy computer equipment of his takes up plenty-a power. Anyway, we had us a candlelight supper like the Old Order folk often did in the old days, before gas lamps. ’Twas lots of fun, though, and Uncle Bryan held Aunt Sarah’s hand and told us stories of growin’ up in Boston, ridin’ the subway, and walking ’round Boston Commons. Things most any father would tell their children.

  Bein’ this happy seems like a wonderful-gut dream to me sometimes. Honestly, I wouldn’t be one bit surprised if Mamma and Dat have some idea just how blessed their children are. Best of all, we’ll see them in Glory some sweet day. When that time comes, I’ll remind Mamma that I kept my promise with the dear Lord’s help.

  Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me. . . .

  Author’s Note

  I am grateful for the patience and wisdom of many people during the writing of this book.

  There was ongoing prayer support, careful editing, and love from my husband, Dave, paving the way for Sarah Cain and Lydia Cottrell to come alive in my heart and on paper.

  I offer my heartfelt appreciation to my editors, Barb Lilland, Anne Severance, and Carol Johnson, whose faith in my work gave me courage for the journey.

  Numerous re
ferences offered a wellspring of inspiration, from such authentic works about the Amish and their way of life as— Amish Women , by Louise Stoltzfus, The Amish, In Their Own Words , compiled by Brad Igou, The Amish Quilt , by Eve Wheatcroft Granick, A Fruitful Vine , by Carrie Bender, and Amish Society , by John A. Hostetler. If there are inaccuracies in my portrayal of the Lancaster County Amish, gleaned from any of the above-mentioned resources, I bear sole responsibility.

  I wish to thank my prayer partners, family members, resource gatherers, loyal encouragers, and manuscript readers who prayed, assisted in research, and sent Lancaster County-based news clippings, books, brochures, and other regional information. They cheered me on during the lengthy process of the writing and are the following: various unnamed Amish and Mennonite friends and contacts, the Mennonite Information Center in Lancaster, Pennsylvania, my dear ‘‘Pen Women’’ friends, John and Ada Reba Bachman, Doran and Elise Bartle, Jerry and Shari Bieber, Carole Billingsley, Dale and Barbara Birch, Julie Buxman, Becky Byler, Glenda Cooper, Roswell Flower, Verna Flower, Bill and Beverly Fry, Susan and Tabitha Gordon, Tom and Anne Gray, Don and Jeannette Green, Sandi Heisler, June Heimsoth, John Henderson, Bob and Aleta Hirschberg, Herb and Jane Jones, Iris Jones, Eline Lardie, Connie McKenzie, Martha Nelson, Steve and Nancy Oates, Mona Paulson, Susan Pelham, Steve Rabey, Barb Reinhard, Alan and Pam Ronn, Len and Barbara Rosner, Barbara Saladin, Laura Taylor, Judy Verhage, RhodaWelsch, and Dave and Linda Woodward.

  More From Bestselling Author Beverly Lewis

  ANNIE’S PEOPLE follows Annie Zook, the only daughter of an Old Order Amish preacher, as she struggles to decide if she should join the Brethren. She desperately wants to please her parents and her Plain community, but her constant solace and desire-art-is strictly forbidden by her church district, as is her friendship with the mysterious and handsome Englisher, Ben Martin.With a life-altering decision on the line, Annie must choose between her desires and the only life she knows.