by Ruth Reid
Finding a crumpled package jammed into the mailbox alarmed Noah. The last time he received one in this mangled condition, the glass was broken. He piled the other mail on top of the package and headed back to the shop. He carefully cut open the box. Instead of finding beveled glass, he found baked goods. Noah flipped back the lid. Stolzfus Bakery. Sugarcreek, Ohio.
Not the contents he was expecting, but his empty stomach reminded him it was past noon. He removed the letter, peeled back the wax paper, and snatched a frosted cookie with tiny bits of peppermint sprinkled on it. The peppermint practically melted in his mouth. He hadn’t eaten something this tasty since his grandmother passed away.
Noah filled his cup with coffee from the thermos and selected another cookie. The chocolate one tasted better than most he’d had. He took the package along with his cup of coffee over to the corner of the shop, sat down in the rocking chair, and unfolded the paper.
October 11
Dear Cousin Em,
My life is in shambles, my heart is aching so. I just had to talk with you, even if you’re ten miles away.
Noah stopped reading. Cousin Em? He flipped the lid once again. The smeared ink made it impossible to read the name on the package. The address wasn’t much clearer. Fieldstone Drive. He turned the box to get a better look in the window light. It was his road all right. But after closer inspection, he made out a squiggly mark that must be an S for south. He lived on the north end.
Noah chewed the remaining cookie in his mouth and swallowed hard. How would he explain the opened box? And how would he find . . . Cousin Em if he couldn’t read the name or address on the package? The cookies were too good to let go to waste.
Noah grabbed another cookie from the box. Although guilt pricked his conscience, he was curious as to why the sender felt as though her life was in shambles, so he continued reading.
. . . I found Henry helping the bishop’s daughter, Priscilla, into his buggy. Apparently, she injured her ankle and Henry was kind enough to drive her home.
“Kind!” Noah shook his head.
I probably wouldn’t be so worked up if I wasn’t hurting so badly over missing Mamm and Daed. I’m not sure Henry even remembered they died this time last year. I hadn’t seen him all week . . .
“Ah, jah. He was with the bishop’s daughter all week. Why else would he take the girl home?” He flipped to the last page and scanned down to the bottom.
Warm wishes,
Your Cousin J.
“Has anyone ever told you, ‘J.’ that you’re naïve? A good baker though.” He bit off a piece of the cookie and kept reading.
Several cookies later, Noah refolded the letter. All ten pages. The woman was a wreck. In parts of the letter the ink was tearstained. Whoever this Henry was, he was no good for her, especially if he forgot the date of her parents’ deaths. Noah had a notion to set her straight. He wished someone had opened his eyes to Ruby. Had he known Ruby was thinking about jumping the fence to become Englisch, maybe he wouldn’t have fallen so hard for her. This Henry sounded like a sneak too.
Noah stood, tucked the woman’s letter back into the envelope, and set the box of cookies on the table. This had been a nice break, but he needed to get back to work.
Joy set the bowl of butter beans on the table next to the red potatoes as Sarah poured milk into the glasses, and Lois placed the baked chicken dish on a potholder in front of Matthew’s place setting. She and her sisters worked in harmony to get the meal prepared before Lois’s husband came in from the barn.
Sarah put the empty pitcher of milk in the sink. “You never said how Henry liked the cookies the other day.”
Joy sliced the loaf of sourdough bread. “He wasn’t at work.”
“I saw him chopping wood at the Bylers’ when I took a food dish over,” Lois said. “The bishop’s been sick since the gathering the other nacht.”
Joy stopped the knife partway through the loaf. “You saw Henry there today?”
Lois nodded while stirring flour into a saucepan of chicken broth.
Joy continued slicing the sourdough bread. “So, was Bishop Byler feeling better?” Despite not liking the idea of Henry spending more time around Priscilla, Joy cared deeply for the bishop and his family. He and Martha provided a great deal of support after the fire. Joy and her sisters couldn’t ever repay them for all they’d done to help.
Sarah leaned closer to Joy. “Have you talked with Henry since the foot-washing service?”
Joy shook her head.
“Something’s up. Henry took Priscilla home early that nacht.” Sarah raised her brows. “That would’ve given them two hours—alone,” she muttered under her breath.
“I don’t know that for sure.”
Sarah shrugged. “He had to have been there when the bishop came home. How else would Henry know the bishop needed help with his firewood?”
“They’re neighbors.” Joy ignored Sarah’s raised brows and spoke to Lois. “I made a new peppermint cookie. I might make them for the Second Christmas sleigh ride.”
“Did you use extract?”
“That and I crushed some peppermint candies and sprinkled them on top.”
“Sounds delicious.” Lois glanced at the door as Matthew and their five-year-old son, Philip, stepped into the kitchen. She set the dish on the table and met them at the door. “You’re wet,” Lois said to her son as she helped him remove his coat. “Is it raining?”
Matthew hung his hat on the hook. “It just started.” He went to the kitchen sink to wash. “The rain will bring more leaves down,” he said to his wife.
“Better tonight than tomorrow. I want to do laundry in the morning.” Lois made Philip sit so she could tug off his boots, then she nudged him toward the hallway. “Go wash so we can eat.”
Joy wasn’t able to read her brother-in-law’s expression, but Lois was frowning. The harvest was over. Joy couldn’t imagine why Matthew would be concerned about the leaves falling, or rain for that matter. Maybe it had something to do with the possibility of the rain turning into sleet.
Matthew dried his hands on a dish towel, then took his place at the table. “Did I hear you say something about peppermint cookies, Joy?”
“I made a batch the other day,” she said, taking a seat next to Sarah. “But I didn’t bring any home.” Since Matthew found out he was diabetic, Joy tried to make sugar-substituted treats for them to eat at home.
“There are oatmeal cookies still in the jar.”
“Nay, danki.” Matthew bowed his head once Philip returned from washing up and everyone was seated at the table.
Joy’s silent grace wasn’t so much about the food as it was for direction concerning Henry.
Matthew carved the chicken. “How was business today?”
“About the same.” Joy placed a spoonful of butter beans on her plate and passed the bowl to Sarah. As the only man in the family, her brother-in-law had become the financial overseer even though Joy and her sisters ran the bakery. He had only recently started inquiring about the daily operations. Before he only seemed interested in what repairs needed attention.
“Were there many tourists?”
“Not like last year.” Joy glanced at Sarah. “Did you have many customers after I left?”
“A few. But I don’t think you have to bake anything in the morning if that’s what you want to know.”
Joy baked every morning so the baked goods were always fresh. Although most days she didn’t overbake, as she had every day since the foot-washing service. The conversation at the table muffled as her thoughts drifted back to Henry. She wanted to ask Lois more about seeing Henry at the Bylers’, but would wait until they were alone.
Little Philip was the first to clean his plate. “Can we go back out to the barn?”
“In a few minutes,” Matthew said. He glanced at Lois. “Bessie will probably deliver tonight.”
“I get to help,” Philip said. Every day that week, he had raced to the barn after school to see if the calf
had arrived. The longer it took his father to finish eating, the more her nephew squirmed in his chair.
Matthew winked at his wife. He was probably teaching the child patience because everyone was finished when Matthew took another serving of butter beans.
Joy smiled at her nephew. One day she hoped to have a child just as eager to help deliver livestock.
Someone knocked on the door, and Lois stood. “I’ll get it.”
A moment later, Joy’s pulse quickened at the sound of Henry’s voice in the foyer. She padded out of the kitchen as he was asking if she was home.
Joy smiled. “Hello, Henry.”
“Hi.” He looked down at the floor the instant their eyes met. He shuffled his feet the same as the first time he’d come to court her.
Lois returned to the kitchen.
He motioned to the door. “Could we sit on the porch?”
“Sure.” She grabbed her black cape and followed him outside. It wasn’t raining hard, more like a drizzle, but the swing bench was wet. “Maybe we should go back inside.”
“Nay. Let’s just stand.” He cleared his throat. “I’m nett staying long.”
“Oh. I thought you might stay longer since we’ve hardly seen one another all week.”
Still not looking her in the eye, he sighed. His shoulders lifted then fell. “I think I’d like to see other people.” He looked at her a moment, then off into the darkness. “You’re always at the bakery anyway.”
She tried to inhale, but the weight of a boulder lodged in her chest. “When you say other people you mean Priscilla, don’t you?” She closed her eyes when he didn’t respond. “Are you saying you don’t have feelings for me anymore?”
“I still do.” His dark eyes met hers. “I’m confused.” He looked away. “You’ve been preoccupied with the bakery so much lately.”
“I’ve worked at the bakery for years, ever since I was a young girl just learning how to bake.”
“I know.” He shuffled his feet. “But you changed after your parents died. You became consumed with the bakery.”
“You said you understood. You said everyone handles grief differently. Don’t you remember?” Her words wheezed out.
“Joy, I don’t want to hurt you, but so much time has gone by . . . we don’t even see much of each other anymore.”
“Did Priscilla really hurt her ankle?”
“Jah, she could hardly put any weight on it.”
She couldn’t bring herself to ask if he was still at her house when her parents arrived home.
“I should probably leave. I have some deliveries to make for the hardware store early in the morning.”
Joy stepped closer. Close enough that if he reached out his arms, she would be in them. But he didn’t. Nor did he take her hand into his as he had multiple times in the past. Instead, he turned and trotted down the steps.
Her heart sank. He walked to his buggy without taking so much as one last glimpse over his shoulder.
The following morning Joy prepared enough jelly-filled pastries to fill the bakery display case. She was cleaning the countertops when the bell above the door rang. Mrs. Yoder, one of her longtime customers, ambled into the store.
Joy set the rag down and sprang from behind the counter. “It’s nice to see you today,” she said, pulling out a chair for the elderly woman. “Did you enjoy your walk?”
“It didn’t rain so I can’t complain.” Mrs. Yoder removed her winter bonnet and placed it on the table. “What do you suggest?”
“The pastries, muffins, and bread I made today.” Joy pointed out the blueberry pastries on the left, the strawberry ones on the right, and the chocolate chip muffins on the second shelf. She gave Mrs. Yoder a few minutes to decide and poured a mug of coffee.
The woman eyed Joy. “I don’t understand why you’re nett married. Mei grandson needs a fraa.”
This wasn’t one of Mrs. Yoder’s lucid days. Her grandson married last wedding season. But anytime Joy corrected her, it seemed to confuse her more. Joy set the mug of steaming coffee on the table. “Be careful, this is hot.”
“I’d sure like to see him marry before I die.” She lifted the mug to her lips with shaky hands and took a sip. The woman’s eyes held a twinkle.
“What else can I get for you?”
“What did you bake today?”
Joy listed everything again as though she hadn’t already been asked. Once Mrs. Yoder made her selection, Joy placed the strawberry pastry on a dish and served it as Meredith entered the bakery.
Her friend eyed the display case. “I see you had another busy morning. You haven’t talked with Henry yet, have you?”
Joy glanced at Mrs. Yoder, then waved Meredith around the register and into the kitchen area where they wouldn’t be overheard. “He stopped by last evening.”
“And?”
“He wants to court other women.”
“What?”
Joy shrugged. “He’s confused.”
The doorbell jingled. Joy lifted up to her tiptoes and craned her neck toward the front of the store. Sarah. Her sister greeted the customer with a warm smile and eased behind the counter.
“Sarah’s here. I’ll tell you about Henry later.”
“Maybe you can walk back to the Quilter’s Corner with me nau that your sister is here.”
“Jah. I have to go to the post office anyway.”
Sarah slipped out of her cape as she entered the kitchen. She hung it on the wall peg. “So what do I need to know?” Her sister never sounded enthused about being at the bakery. Unlike Joy who loved sampling her own creations, Sarah avoided sweets and often complained that she smelled like a fudge brownie after working all day.
“I can’t think of anything special,” Joy said, removing her apron. “I shouldn’t be long. I’m going after the mail.” She removed her cape and bonnet from the hook and put them on. “Mrs. Yoder may like more kaffi. She’ll probably try to fix you up with her grandson.”
Meredith frowned. “Sometimes she comes into the Quilter’s Corner and wants to buy material—for her husband.”
“Ach, dear. He’s been dead at least ten years.”
Meredith nodded. “You can’t tell her though. I did once and she practically chased me into the storage room. Wagging mei own scissors at me.”
“That must have been a sight.” Joy smiled, picturing the scene. She stepped outside, tying the ribbons under her chin. Normally the town buzzed with traffic this time of the year. Autumn always brought an influx of tourists and a nice spurt of business. But after yesterday’s hard rain, the trees were bare and the pavement was littered with red and yellow leaves. Joy glanced up at the blue sky. “We won’t have many more nice days like today before winter.”
“You’re probably right. The women at the quilt shop were complaining the other day about how poor tourism has been this fall.”
Joy nodded. “It’s been slower at the bakery too.” They strolled along the sidewalk.
“So finish telling me about Henry.”
“He said I work too much.” She glanced at a storefront’s window display of men’s and women’s shoes, then stared at the cracks in the sidewalk. “I think he might want to court Priscilla again.”
Meredith sighed. “I wondered if that was why he gave her a ride home the other nacht.”
“I’m twenty-four and have probably lost mei only chance to marry.” Joy gazed upward.
Meredith weaved her arm around Joy’s elbow. “He’s nett the only unmarried man in our district.”
But Henry was the one Joy planned to marry. She steadied her focus on the hardware store a block ahead. Somehow she had to recapture his attention. She won him once by baking him cookies . . . “Jah,” she said, determination growing in her voice. “That’s what I’ll do.”
“What are talking about?”
Joy smiled. “I’ll win him back.”
They slowed their pace the closer they came to the hardware store, but Henry didn’t come outside to greet them
as he usually did.
“He’s probably nett working today,” Meredith said.
“He was chopping wood for the Bylers when I stopped by the store the other day with cookies. I wanted him to try the new peppermint ones. But I sent the box to mei cousin instead.” They crossed the street and continued to the fabric store.
Her friend paused at the door. “Maybe we can get together later and sew.”
“Jah, maybe.” She really hoped to be sitting on the porch swing with Henry later.
“I’ll kumm over after supper if I can,” Meredith said over her shoulder before disappearing behind the bolts of fabric.
Joy walked two more blocks to the post office. The bakery didn’t get much mail, flyers mostly. She sifted through the postcard advertisements, a restaurant supply catalog, and the monthly water bill. An envelope addressed to: COUSIN J. AT STOLZFUS BAKERY caught her eye.
CHAPTER THREE
Curious to find out what her cousin thought of the new batch of cookies, Joy tore open the envelope.
Dear Cousin J.,
This wasn’t her cousin’s handwriting. Emily’s penmanship was nearly perfect and this chicken scratch was barely legible. Joy scanned to the bottom of the page.
Sincerely,
The man from the cabinet shop
Her stomach roiled. Why was this man writing to her? She read from the start.
I wanted to write to let you know that your box was delivered to me by mistake. You asked if the cookies were good. I confess, I greatly enjoyed them.
You could have used less peppermint flavoring in the frosting, but I liked those the best. (The brownie was a close second.)
As for your dilemma with Henry, he isn’t much of a bu if he left you at the service in order to drive another woman home. Maybe she did hurt her ankle, but why would he leave with her without telling you? Or asking you to ride along? Something else is going on. You sound like a nice girl—young and kind—but naïve.
