by Amy Clipston
“I can’t call her,” he said, setting the card down next to his plate of uneaten oatmeal.
“Why on earth not?”
He explained the rules about phones, and while she looked confused, she nodded. “Then I guess you’ll have to get on a plane and go see her.”
The confidence in her eyes made him chuckle. “Why are you pushing me to contact her again?”
“Because you want to. Because she wants you to.”
“I seriously doubt that.”
“I don’t. I saw the way she looked at you.” Meghan batted her eyelashes at him.
That made him laugh out loud. Cevilla had never been the flirtatious type, a quality he’d always liked about her. Among many. “Sweetheart, there’s nothing between me and Cevilla other than friendship. And that friendship existed more in the past than it does now. We had a short reunion, and while I’m glad we did, that’s all there is to it.”
Meghan’s face fell. “Are you sure?”
“Positive.” He picked up his spoon. “I better tackle this oatmeal before—” The phone in his pocket buzzed. He set down the spoon, and when he took out his phone, he looked at the number on the screen and froze. He might be old, but he was still sharp, and he had seen this number only moments before. He looked at the card next to his plate, and then back to the one on his phone. His palms grew damp. Cevilla.
“Grandfather, aren’t you going to answer it?”
He swallowed and nodded. He slid his finger across the screen and put the phone up to his ear. “Hello?”
“Hello, Richard.”
Meghan could tell by the shocked and excited look on her grandfather’s face that Cevilla was on the line. That, and because he kept the volume turned up on his phone, she could hear the woman’s strong, familiar voice. Meghan grinned and popped up from her chair. She knew Grandfather and Cevilla had something between them, despite his protests. They were so sweet. And cute. And if she hadn’t been so self-absorbed with her own problems, she could have encouraged them more. Then her grandfather wouldn’t have spent the past week brooding.
“Hi, Cevilla.” His voice was low and shy. Adorable. She went to him and took the phone from his hand.
“Hey—”
“Hi, Cevilla,” Meghan said.
“Hello, Meghan,” Cevilla answered, surprise in her voice. “You sound well.”
“I’m very well, thank you. I’m putting you on speaker.”
“What—”
Meghan laid the phone on the table and hit the speaker button. “Now we can both hear you.” She sat back down and gave Grandfather a smile. He didn’t look pleased, and she was definitely crossing a line, but she was going to make sure he didn’t do anything to mess this up.
He leaned over and yelled into the phone. “You have to excuse my granddaughter, Cevilla.” He lifted his chastising gaze to her. “She can be a bit impulsive.”
“Fine with me.” Cevilla’s voice rang loud and clear now. No surprise. No hesitation. Meghan really liked her.
“I can call you back when we have a little privacy.” He gave her another annoyed look.
“You don’t have to yell into the phone, Grandfather. Just speak normally. She’ll be able to hear you just fine.”
“There’s nothing wrong with my hearing,” Cevilla said.
Meghan balked. “I didn’t mean that—”
“And I don’t mind who listens in. Let me get to the point, Richard.”
Meghan saw her grandfather sit up straight.
“Time is short, and life is shorter,” Cevilla continued. “I enjoyed your visit here very much. It’s nice to spend time with a gentleman my age. We have a lot in common, and we also have a lot more catching up to do. Consider this your standing invitation to visit me anytime here in Birch Creek.”
Richard nodded and didn’t say anything.
“Grandfather, she can’t see you.”
“Oh, that’s right.” His eyes darted. “Well, uh, Cevilla.” He cleared his throat. “I must say, this is unexpected.”
Meghan nudged him gently with her toe. “Tell her yes,” she said in a loud whisper, knowing that even with his hearing aids he wouldn’t be able to hear her.
“Listen to your granddaughter.” Cevilla’s voice rang through the speaker. “She’s a smart one.”
Meghan smiled. “Thank you, Cevilla.”
Her grandfather looked bewildered. “I, uh . . .” Then his hand went to his throat, straightening an imaginary tie, a habit he couldn’t shake after decades of wearing three-piece suits. “I’d be happy to come visit you, Cevilla.”
“I’m free next week,” she said.
Both Meghan and Richard laughed. “I’ll make his reservation right now,” Meghan said. Then she stood and picked up the phone. She turned off the speaker and handed it to him. “I’ll leave you two alone now.”
He nodded, looking up at her with a serene smile on his face. Thank you, he mouthed.
She kissed him on the cheek, and then left to finish getting ready for her interview. She sighed as she went up the stairs to her bedroom. Her mother probably wouldn’t approve of a relationship between Grandfather and Cevilla because she wouldn’t be able to control it. She would never be able to influence Cevilla. But Grandfather wouldn’t have to worry about that. Meghan would deal with Mother when the time came. Grandfather and Cevilla deserved their happiness.
EPILOGUE
Three months later
Cevilla and Richard stood outside the small house next door to hers. It was almost finished, thanks to Richard’s insistence on micromanaging every detail. It was a small house, just enough for two people and made in the Amish style. “I approve,” she said, turning to him.
“Is it Amish looking enough?”
She smiled. Richard had decided to move to Birch Creek after his second visit to the community, made shortly after her phone call to him. He’d been back to LA only once, and that was to announce his move in person to Sharon and Meghan. Meghan had been happy for him. Sharon, not so much. But Richard was confident she would come around.
“It’s lovely, and very Amish,” she said.
“Only from the outside.”
Cevilla looked at the house again. Richard was now her neighbor, or at least he would be when the house was completed and his furniture came from California. He’d been staying with Noah and Ivy all this time since it would be improper to stay with her. Over the past three months their relationship had deepened, and she knew he loved her as much as she loved him. But one thing was keeping them from marriage. He wasn’t ready to become Amish. His honesty had touched her, and she didn’t want him to join her faith unless God was leading him to.
“I’m pleased with it,” he said. “It has basic amenities.”
“You mean a fancy air conditioner.”
“Among other things.” He grinned down at her. “Hi, neighbor,” he said softly.
“Hi back, neighbor,” she said.
He took her hand, and they strolled back to her house. She had made a light lunch for them, placing covered plates on the back patio so they could enjoy the fall weather. After they sat down and said a silent prayer, she felt him take her hand again.
“I love you, Cevilla.” His gaze didn’t move from hers. “I wish things could be different, and they might be in the future. But I want you to know that I love you very much.”
She squeezed his hand, fighting back tears. Only Richard Johnson could bring out her mushy side. “I love you too. And I’m willing to wait as long as you need me to, and as long as God leads.”
“He’s led me to you,” Richard said. “I’m ready for him to do the rest.”
“He will,” she said, confident. God had brought Richard back into her life after all these years. He was faithful and had filled a void in her she hadn’t been aware of until Richard had arrived. Cevilla had always put her trust in God.
And I always will.
DISCUSSION QUESTIONS
1.Cevilla had always believed
that love had passed her by, until her reunion with Richard. Have you ever thought that you missed out on something, only to have a second chance at it later in your life?
2.Instead of turning to God when she was hurt, Meghan pulled away and questioned his constancy. What advice would you have given to help her?
3.Richard had followed his heart, and God’s leading, when it came to Cevilla. Is there a time when you did the same thing?
4.Richard has a big decision to make in the future. If you were faced with the same option to convert to the Amish faith, what would you do? What things would you consider when making your choice?
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thank you to the wonderful team at HCCP for their expertise and support, especially my wonderful editors Becky Monds and Jean Bloom. And thank you, dear reader, for joining Cevilla and Richard on their reunion journey. There’s more in store for these two in the future.
MENDED HEARTS
Kelly Irvin
To my family, love always.
“Come now, let us settle the matter,” says the LORD. “Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they are red as crimson, they shall be like wool.”
—Isaiah 1:18 NIV
FEATURED JAMESPORT, MISSOURI, RESIDENTS
Hannah Kauffman and daughter Evelyn Rose (Evie) Kauffman
Laura and Zechariah Stutzman (Hannah’s great-grandparents)
Phillip Schwartz (bachelor)
Susie and Declan Yoder, son Thaddeus, and daughter Mattie (married), and three other siblings
Burke McMillan (widower), owner of Purple Martin Café
Leo and Jennie Graber, owners of Jamesport Combination Store
Ben and Rosalie Stutzman and children (bishop and Zechariah’s grandson)
CHAPTER 1
The aroma of cinnamon rolls wafted through the air, more aromatic than any perfume. Hannah Kauffman grinned to herself as she slid a thick ceramic plate laden with eggs, bacon, toast, and hash browns onto the table in front of an English customer who held up her fork, ready to dive in. The second plate, a Spanish omelet, toast, and a cup of fresh fruit, belonged to the woman seated in the red Naugahyde booth across from her.
Hannah breathed through the ache in her shoulders and elbows. It had been a long morning filled with a steady stream of customers at the Purple Martin Café, Jamesport’s most popular Amish restaurant. Staying busy made her happy. Excellent food, nice customers, good tips. Making people smile made the aches and pains worth it.
The stench of mingled perfumes hit her without warning.
She rushed to place two glasses of orange juice and two cups of coffee on the table. The tickle in her nose ballooned faster than she could move.
A gargantuan sneeze broke just as she swiveled away, burying her face in the crook of her arm.
Trying not to sniffle, she turned back to the ladies. “Is there anything else I can get for you?”
The women’s delighted smiles faded. “Do you have a cold?” The one wearing a purple dress and purple checked leggings frowned. “Are you sick? If you are you shouldn’t—”
“I’m not sick. It’s the perfume—”
“Are you blaming my expensive Estée Lauder Bronze Goddess?” The woman with hair dyed the color of cotton candy held up her plate. “You sneezed all over my omelet. Take it back. I want a different waitress.”
“I’m so sorry, ma’am.” Breathing through her mouth, Hannah accepted the plate. “I really don’t have a cold. I promise.”
Her baby, Evie, had the sniffles, but Great-Grandma Laura, who’d taken care of hundreds of babies over the years, insisted they were caused by allergies brought on by the gorgeous array of spring flowers blooming in her front yard.
“Take mine as well.” Checked Leggings waved her hand over her food with a dismissive air. “I want to talk to your boss.”
“I’m right here, ladies.” His usual smile on his rugged face, Burke McMillan strode toward them. “How can I help?”
“This girl sneezed all over us.”
“I didn’t—”
“It’s okay, Hannah. Take the food back to the kitchen, please.” Burke swiveled toward Hannah and winked. “Have Nicole bring them fresh plates. Tell her I said thank you for helping out.”
“I should call the health department.” Purple Leggings fingered her cell phone. “Surely you know better than to let employees work sick.”
Her querulous voice faded in the distance as Hannah lugged the tray back to the kitchen. How quickly a good day could deteriorate. Just like her daughter’s mood. At twenty-one months Evie could be all sunshine and smiles one minute, and dark clouds and squalls the next.
Hannah’s gaze caught Claire Plank’s. She sat at a table across from Isabel Schrock. The two women, both members of Hannah’s Gmay, stared at her as if she were a cockroach crawling across their eggs. Claire’s smile held a combination of pity and condemnation that was all too familiar. Hannah lifted her chin and smiled back with her best I-have-no-idea-what-your-problem-is smile.
“How’s Evie?” Claire asked. “She was sniffling at church like she had a cold.”
“She’s fine. Just allergies.”
“Can you ask our waitress to come refill our tea glasses?” Isabel held up her glass. It was still almost full. “And to bring us some more sugar packets.”
“Of course.”
Claire ducked her head and whispered something to Isabel. Heads bent together, they continued whispering as Hannah worked her way through the tables to the kitchen.
Her punishment might have been six weeks of bann, but it continued almost two years later.
Shoving away the thoughts that tumbled around in her head, Hannah caught Nicole Wilson on her way from the serving window, her tray loaded with steaming oatmeal, scrambled eggs, sausage, and cinnamon rolls. Hannah quickly explained the situation. “Sorry to dump on you, but Burke told me—”
“No worries.” Nicole flipped her long brown braid onto her back and shifted her tray onto her shoulder. Her pewter eyes were bright with sympathy. “Dump the old tray and put the new order in. I’ll sweet talk them so bad they’ll leave me a big fat tip.”
Nicole was saving her tips for her wedding. She and her fiancé, Tony Perez, wanted to get married as soon as they graduated from high school in another year. Then he planned to join the Navy, and she would start college.
Hannah returned Nicole’s smile and pushed through the double doors to the kitchen where she unloaded her tray and asked the cook to put a rush on a new order. She leaned against the wall for a second and breathed. Evie had awakened three—or maybe it was four—times during the night. Congestion and a cough made it hard for her to sleep, which made it impossible for Hannah. Heat sweltered in the kitchen. The morning-shift cook ignored her as she slapped sausages on the grill and made omelets.
The aroma of baking bread mingled with the scent of frying bacon. Hannah’s stomach rumbled. Most mornings she had no time for eating her own breakfast. Time spent with Evie was at a premium on days Hannah worked.
What would she do without Great-Grandma Laura to watch her baby? She brushed the thought away. Laura and Great-Grandpa Zechariah didn’t judge her like the rest of the world.
The doors swung open and Burke strode through. “Don’t sweat it, kid. Accidents happen. I know you didn’t mean to sneeze on their eggs.”
“I didn’t.” She straightened, ready to defend herself. “I turned away and covered my face.”
Burke shrugged and took a swipe at the salt-and-pepper five-o’clock shadow he never seemed to shave. His hair was cut like the boys’ who came back from basic training at Fort Riley, but she didn’t know if he’d been in the Army. Burke never talked about himself. “The customer’s always right.” He snatched a washrag from the sink and began wiping down already immaculate counters.
“I’m sorry I caused a problem.”
“You’re one of my most dependable, hard-working waitresses.” Burke laid the washrag acros
s the faucet and headed for the doors. “By the way, your Regular is out there waiting. Take your break. Have some breakfast. You look peaked this morning. I worry about you.”
Every worker received one free meal per shift. That was Burke. A great boss who took care of his employees.
He was also another person who didn’t judge. But he was English. Some Englishers had different opinions on babies born out of wedlock. What Burke thought remained a mystery. He never brought it up. Instead, he fed Evie homemade applesauce and peanut butter cookies on the rare occasion Hannah brought her to the Purple Martin. He claimed the cookies were good for her because they had protein in them.
Her regular. She had several. But Burke’s use of the singular with a capital r could mean only one person. Wiping sweat from her forehead with the back of her sleeve, she pushed through the doors and glanced around.
Phillip Schwartz sat three seats from the end of the counter, perusing a menu. Which made Hannah smile. He always ordered the same thing. Two eggs over easy, bacon, hash browns, fried crisp, and two pieces of white bread toasted not too dark, orange juice, and coffee, black. He liked strawberry jam for his toast and ketchup for his eggs.
The last fact always made Hannah’s stomach feel squishy. Hot sauce, maybe, like some of the Englishers, but ketchup?
Glancing around, she slipped her order pad from her white Purple Martin Café apron pocket, picked up the closest coffee pot, and approached him. “Gude mariye.”
“There you are.” He smiled. His smile transformed a plain face. He had dimples and long, light eyelashes that framed pale-blue eyes. Thin blond hair hung below the rim of his straw hat. “Gude mariye. I was afraid you weren’t working today, even though you’re scheduled.”