One thing was sure, Michelle wanted Sara to know how sorry she felt for all the wrong she had done.
I don’t feel right about being in her mother’s room either. Michelle punched her pillow as she made a decision. Tomorrow I’ll suggest that we switch rooms. But if things don’t improve between us soon, I’ll have no choice but to move out, with or without a job. Maybe Ezekiel knows someone who would take me in. It won’t be his folks though; of that much I am certain.
Sara sat on the end of the bed in the guest room across the hall from Michelle. As she brushed her long hair, she heard the “pretender” across the way, snoring. Oh great. Sara frowned. Tack on one more thing to keep me awake tonight.
It wasn’t right that the imposter had been given the bedroom that used to belong to Sara’s mother. She should be sleeping there, not Michelle. Didn’t Grandma and Grandpa care anything about her feelings? Surely they had to realize how uncomfortable it was for her to be staying in their house with a person who had no right to be here.
Sara got up and went over to the window. It was chilly outside, but she needed fresh air, so she opened it a crack. She drew several deep breaths to clear her head. Outside, Sara heard dried leaves rustling in the breeze as they blew across the yard below. I wonder if I’ll be able to sleep tonight, with the queen of sawing logs close by. She grimaced. I’d like to go over there right now, knock on her door, and holler at her to stop.
Standing rigidly, she continued to look out at the night sky. Hopefully this awful noise won’t occur every night.
It wasn’t good to let stress control her like this, but Sara couldn’t move past it. Do Grandma and Grandpa care more about Michelle than they do their own flesh-and-blood granddaughter? Is that why they gave her Mama’s room? It was foolish to have such thoughts, but it was hard to think differently.
Rubbing her hands up and down her arms to ward off the shivers, she turned away from the window. Grandma had said during supper this evening that she hoped Sara and Michelle could get to know each other and become friends.
Fat chance! I’m not interested in getting to know the great pretender. But I’ll keep my feelings to myself so I don’t upset Grandpa and Grandma. If I complain, it might give them a reason to choose Michelle over me.
She flopped back onto the bed. They can forgive her if they want to, but I’m not that forgiving. Sara hadn’t admitted it to her grandparents or anyone else, but she still struggled with mixed feelings about her own mother’s deception. It didn’t make sense that Mama had kept her Amish heritage a secret. While she may have been embarrassed about having a baby out of wedlock, it didn’t excuse her for not telling Sara about her grandparents. Sara had been cheated out of knowing them all those years. What fun she could have had with Grandma and Grandpa, coming to visit and staying on the farm.
As a child, Sara had envied other kids whose grandparents doted on them. Her stepfather’s parents had lived in Canada and traveled a lot before they died. Sara had only met them once, when Dean and Mama first got married. Unfortunately, on one of their trips, they’d been killed when their plane crashed. So she had grown up with no grandparents at all.
Sara couldn’t understand why some people weren’t honest. She’d never liked being lied to or kept in the dark. Sara had always tried to be honest. “If everyone were honest, the world would be a better place,” she muttered.
As her thoughts wandered, something else came to mind. What did I do with that letter from Brad Fuller? In October, when Sara first visited her grandparents, a letter had come for her. Sara’s muscles tensed. It wasn’t really meant for me, but for the person pretending to be me, whom he thought was Sara.
From the things Brad said in his letter, he sounded nice. He’d mentioned being settled in at a seminary. As Sara recalled, he’d also included a Bible verse with the letter. So she assumed he was religious.
The scent of country air lingered in her room as Sara got up to close the window. Brad mentioned his studies, and stated that he would pray for me. Was he going to school to be a preacher? She sat back down on the bed and plopped backward, staring at the ceiling. Oh yeah, now I remember…. I threw the letter out. It’s a good thing too, or else I’d feel obligated to give it to Michelle. But I can’t fret about this stuff all night. I need to try and get some sleep. Sara pulled back the covers and climbed into bed, as she breathed in the scent of clean sheets. She would deal with everything in the morning.
“You’re tossing and turning quite a bit. Are you having trouble getting to sleep?” Willis asked Mary Ruth.
“Jah.” She sat up in bed, pushing the pillow up to support her back.
He sat up too, and reached for her hand. “Was is letz do?”
“I’ll tell you what’s wrong here.” Mary Ruth used her other hand to massage her pounding forehead. “The two young women we care about are not getting along well. Couldn’t you feel the tension between them before, during, and after our evening meal? Why, they barely said more than two words to each other.”
“True. And I have to admit it was a little awkward just you and me doin’ most of the talking while we ate supper.”
“Jah. We’d toss questions out to the girls, but hardly got responses from either of them.”
“You’re right,” Willis agreed. “But maybe things will go better in a few days or so. Sara and Michelle need a little more time to get to know each other. It’s only the first day.”
Mary Ruth shook her head. “I don’t believe a few days of getting to know each other will solve the problem. Truthfully, I think Michelle feels uncomfortable around Sara because of how she pretended to be her. And if I’m not mistaken, Sara is upset with Michelle and has not forgiven her for letting us believe all those months that she was our granddaughter.”
“Bet you’ve hit the nail right on the head.” Willis gave Mary Ruth’s fingers a gentle squeeze. “I keep forgetting what a schmaert woman I married.”
“I’m not that smart—just perceptive.”
“So besides faithfully praying, what are we gonna do about the situation between Sara and Michelle?”
Mary Ruth tilted her head. “I think we should talk with them.”
“Together or individually?” He shifted under the covers.
“It might be best to speak to each of them alone. Maybe you could talk to Michelle, and I’ll speak with Sara. What do you think, Willis?”
“It’s worth a try. Michelle likes to help me with the animals. So tomorrow morning while we’re feeding the horses, I’ll bring up the subject of Sara.”
“Okay. While you’re doing that, I’ll ask Sara to help me with something in the kitchen. Then, while we are working, I’ll speak with her about Michelle.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Willis released Mary Ruth’s hand. “Ready to go to sleep now?”
“I—I hope so.”
“Lie down, close your eyes, and give the situation to God.” Willis’s gentle tone was soothing.
“I’ll try.” It wasn’t always easy to give up control and turn things over to God, but Willis was right—that’s what she needed to do.
Mary Ruth flattened her pillow. She appreciated the discussion they’d had and felt thankful for her dear, caring husband. She couldn’t imagine trying to deal with this situation on her own.
Yawning, she closed her eyes and prayed, asking the heavenly Father to give her the right words when she spoke to Sara. And please soften her heart toward Michelle so she’s willing to listen, she added before falling asleep.
Chapter 3
The hickory-smoked aroma of frying bacon drew Sara into the kitchen. Grandma turned from where she stood at the stove and offered a wide smile. “Good morning, Sara. Did you sleep well?”
Sara slowly nodded. She wasn’t about to admit that she’d barely slept. Grandma would likely ask why, and then Sara would either have to make something up or admit that her stress over Michelle’s presence was the reason she’d tossed and turned most of the night. That had been coupled with the
nerve-racking snoring filtering across the hall.
“What can I do to help with breakfast?” Sara asked, hoping her grandmother hadn’t noticed her unhappy mood.
Grandma gestured to the refrigerator. “You can get out some eggs and scramble them up while I finish frying the bacon.”
“Okay.” Sara got out the items and closed the refrigerator door. How nice it was to have some quality time with Grandma this morning. “Is Grandpa outside doing chores?” She grabbed a bowl from the cupboard and started cracking the eggs into it.
“Yes.” Grandma placed the cooked bacon aside on a paper towel. “He took a mug of freshly brewed coffee with him before heading out the door.”
Sara shook some salt and pepper into the bowl. “There seems to be plenty of things to do around a farm like this.” She picked up the wire whisk and mixed in the seasonings. Why didn’t my mother appreciate the simple life? I’d like some answers, but I need to be patient.
Sara had finished mixing the eggs with a small amount of milk, when Michelle entered the room.
“Good morning. Did you get a good night’s sleep?” Grandma gave Michelle the same friendly smile she’d shared with Sara.
“Sure did.” Michelle glanced at Sara. “Good morning.”
“Morning,” Sara mumbled, barely looking at Michelle. Sure wish I could come right out and say what’s on my mind.
Michelle moved over to stand beside Grandma and kissed her cheek. “What do you need me to do this morning?”
Sara’s jaw clenched. Michelle acts like she’s the granddaughter, not me. Is she still pretending, or it is just wishful thinking?
“Since Sara is mixing the eggs, why don’t you set the table?” Grandma suggested.
“I can do that. Should I get out some milk or juice too?”
Grandma nodded. “We have orange and apple juice in the refrigerator, so you can set out both, if you like. That way, we’ll have beverage choices.”
“Okay.”
While Michelle set the table and took out the juices, Sara put the egg mixture in a frying pan with a little vegetable oil and placed it on the propane stove. She was reminded once again that she’d been looking forward to spending time with Grandpa and Grandma, and now she had to share them with Michelle. To make matters worse, Michelle had given Grandma a kiss on the cheek. I should have done that instead of dwelling on my negative feelings.
“I’m going to start looking for a job today.” Sara glanced over at Grandma.
“Can’t it wait till after Thanksgiving?” Grandma placed the bacon on a plate and covered it with foil. “I was hoping you’d be free to help me do some baking after breakfast, and it would be nice to sit and visit with you this afternoon.”
“I suppose I could wait until Monday.” Sara stirred the solidifying eggs in the skillet.
Grandma smiled. “That’ll be fine.”
“What about me?” Michelle asked. “Won’t you need my help with the baking, Grandma?”
Sara nearly had to bite her tongue to keep from saying anything. Who does Michelle think she is, anyway? She shouldn’t be calling my grandmother Grandma. Michelle had some practice when she’d lived here before, pretending to be me, but that doesn’t make it right.
“If you want to help, that’s certainly fine, but I assumed you would help Willis take care of the animals after breakfast,” Grandma replied.
Sara pressed her lips together to keep from blurting out her thoughts. She had a feeling Michelle only wanted to help bake so she could horn in on her time with Grandma.
The more Sara thought about it, the more upset she became. Why does my life have to be so complicated?
By the time Grandpa came in for breakfast, Sara had no appetite for food. Even the scrambled eggs didn’t appeal to her. She forced herself to sit at the table for the prayer so she wouldn’t appear impolite.
“I checked phone messages before coming into the house.” Grandpa looked over at Michelle, who sat to the left of him. “There was a message for you from Ezekiel.”
Michelle’s blue-green eyes lit up. “What did he have to say? He’s still joining us for Thanksgiving, I hope.”
“Ezekiel’s still coming, but he wanted you to know that he may only be here for dessert.”
Michelle’s brows furrowed. “How come? He said he would eat dinner with us.”
Sara drank her glass of juice as she listened to Grandpa’s explanation. She too was curious about why Ezekiel wouldn’t be joining them until after dinner tomorrow.
“Ezekiel said in his message that his family wanted him to join them for their Thanksgiving meal.” Grandpa took two slices of bacon and passed the platter to Michelle. “Guess now that he’s gettin’ along better with his folks, he wants to keep the peace.”
From her seat next to Michelle, Grandma reached over and patted the imposter’s arm. “At least he’ll be joining us for pie and coffee.”
Michelle nodded slowly.
Sara toyed with her fork. It was too bad Ezekiel wasn’t coming for dinner, because it would keep Michelle busy with him instead of gushing over Grandma and Grandpa and hanging on their every word. This would’ve given Sara an opportunity to spend more time with her grandparents.
Sara had to wonder, though, how things could work out between Michelle and Ezekiel, since he was Amish and Michelle was not. Of course, if it did work out, she’d be married and out the door. Goodbye to her, and all the troubles she’s caused, Sara mused. But the odds are he’ll see through her phony bologna and drop Michelle like a bare hand holding a hot skillet.
Sara forced herself to eat the last bite of egg on her plate. It’s none of my business how Ezekiel and Michelle work things out. I have enough of my own problems to muddle through. And it’s good I’m not involved in a relationship with a man right now. It would complicate my life even more.
“You’re kinda quiet this morning,” Willis said as Michelle helped him groom his horse Bashful. “Are you still upset because Ezekiel won’t be eating dinner with us tomorrow?”
She shook her head. “As long as he can come for part of the day, I’m okay with it.”
Willis set the curry comb aside and gestured to a bale of straw outside his horse’s stall. “Let’s have a seat over there. I’d like to talk to you about something.”
“Okay.” Michelle set the brush down that she’d been using on Bashful’s mane, opened the stall gate, and took a seat on one end of the straw bale. She sat quietly until Willis joined her. “What did you want to talk to me about?”
“Sara.”
“What about her?”
He pulled a piece of straw from the bale and stuck it between his teeth. “Mary Ruth and I have noticed the tension between you and Sara.”
“Yeah, it’s there, but I think it’s mostly because she resents me being here.” Michelle bent down to pet Rascal when he bounded up to her, wagging his tail. “I was planning to talk to her after breakfast, but she went into the bathroom before I had the chance. And since I wanted to help you with the animals, I came out here.”
“It would be a good idea for the two of you to talk things out.” Willis stroked the top of Sadie’s head, for it appeared she wanted some attention too.
“I’m gonna ask if she’d like to trade bedrooms with me. I figured Sara might like to have the room her mother slept in when she was a girl.”
Willis nodded. “She slept there during her brief visit with us, when you were living in Harrisburg.”
“I should have guessed as much and insisted on taking the other guest room when Ezekiel brought me back here.”
“I think Mary Ruth suggested you sleep in there because it’s the room you had during your first stay with us.”
“Right. Before you knew I wasn’t your granddaughter.” Michelle stopped fussing with Rascal and placed her hand on Willis’s am. “I still feel terrible about all the lies I told you and Mary Ruth whenever you asked questions about my past. It’s hard to understand how you could both be so forgiving.”
“Forgiveness doesn’t come easy when a person has been wronged, but according to scripture, it’s the right thing to do.”
“Maybe you should tell Sara that. I’m sure she hasn’t forgiven me for impersonating her.”
“Give her some time and try to be patient and kind. I believe in due time, she’ll come around.”
“What kind of pies will we be making this morning?” Sara asked after she’d finished her cup of tea.
“Pumpkin is your grandpa’s favorite, so we’ll need to make a few of those. Since your mother’s brother and his family will be joining us, I’ll make sure there are a few apple pies too because apple is Lenore’s favorite. If some of the pies aren’t eaten, then they can take one or two home with them.” From across the table, Grandma smiled at Sara. “What kind of pie do you like best?”
Sara shrugged. “I like most pies—except for mincemeat. I’ve never acquired a taste for it.”
“I understand, and don’t worry, there won’t be any mincemeat pies for our Thanksgiving dessert.” Grandma rose from the table and placed her empty cup into the sink. Then she sat down again. “Before we get started, there’s something I want to talk to you about.”
Sara squirmed in her chair. I bet it’s about the pretender. “What is it, Grandma?”
“I can’t help noticing how cool you’ve been toward Michelle. Are you upset because she’s staying here with us?”
Sara slid her finger around the edge of her cup as she weighed her options. I can either pretend I have no problem with Michelle or blurt out the truth. She went with the second choice.
“To be honest, Michelle being here does upset me. What she did to you and Grandpa was deplorable, and now she’s living here—even sleeping in my mother’s old room—like she’s one of the family.”
“I’m sure she’d be willing to switch rooms with you.” Grandma lifted her glasses and rubbed a spot on the bridge of her nose. “When she returned from Harrisburg, I wasn’t thinking when I offered her that room. She’d occupied it before, when we thought she was you, so—”
The Forgiving Jar Page 2