“What fire?”
“Ivan tried to save the turkey, but in doing so, he hit his knee on a table leg,” Michelle further explained. “That, in turn, toppled the candles over, and then the tablecloth caught fire. You almost had to be there to believe what you were seeing; it all happened so fast.”
“I bet.”
“Then we all jumped in to help. Well, Sara didn’t at first. She looked stunned by it all. But eventually she did pitch in. And Benjamin and Peter … They both sat there, eating through it all.” Michelle laughed. “It was kinda comical now that I think about it. Oh, and poor Ivan. You could tell he felt terrible. And so did Willis.”
“I probably would have too if had happened to me.” Ezekiel chuckled. “But then, things like that can happen to the best of us.”
“Mary Ruth was so good about it. She even joked about keeping the tablecloth with the burned hole in it. Said it would give them something to talk about during future Thanksgivings.”
“That’s not somethin’ they’re likely to forget. It’ll be some memory, all right.” He leaned over and sniffed her hair. “Jah, I believe the whole story now, ’cause your hair smells like smoked turkey.”
“Are you kidding?”
“Nope.”
She squinted, and then laughed.
He joined in. “A good belly laugh feels good. Jah?”
“Definitely. And danki, because I needed that today.”
“Glad I could help.” He spoke softly, close to her ear, sending shivers up Michelle’s spine.
“I’m glad you can take my teasing. Some folks, like my little brother, don’t like it when I joke around. And if I pester Henry too much, he really gets upset.” Ezekiel paused to flick the reins. “He’s always been kinda sensitive.”
“I can relate, on both counts, because sometimes I’m sensitive too. And when we were kids, still living with our abusive folks, my youngest brother, Jack, didn’t appreciate it whenever I teased him. Ernie never seemed to mind it much though, ’cause he was a jokester himself.” Swallowing against the lump that had formed unexpectedly in her throat, Michelle folded her hands tightly in her lap. She still thought about her two brothers, even though she hadn’t seen them since they were all separated and put in foster care. She hoped the boys were happy and had made good lives for themselves. But oh, how she wished she could see them again.
Michelle closed her eyes. But I have no desire to see my biological parents. They messed up royally and don’t deserve to have any contact with their children. Her nails pressed tightly into her palms. Probably wouldn’t be glad to see us, anyhow. Despite Michelle’s unhappy childhood, she still prayed for her parents. She hoped someday they would see the error of their ways and get help for their addiction to alcohol, as well as some anger management assistance.
They rode along quietly for a while, until Ezekiel broke the silence. “I’ve made a decision.”
Her eyes snapped open. “What about?”
“I’m gonna sell my truck and join the church.”
“For sure?”
“Jah. Thought I wanted to be English, and it might be all right for some. But I’ve come to realize it’s not for me.”
“Was it getting beat up outside the restaurant where I worked in Harrisburg that led you to that decision?”
“That may have been part of it, but the biggest reason is my family. It would be hard on my folks if one of their children went English.” He paused, releasing a breath so loud it sounded more like a groan. “I don’t want to hurt them like that.”
“I understand, but if you join the Amish church, you won’t be able to see me anymore. At least not socially or …” Her voice trailed off.
“That’s the only reason I’m holding back from joining the church.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t want to lose my relationship with you.” Ezekiel let go of the reins with his left hand and reached for Michelle’s right hand, sending shivers up her arm.
“So what are we going to do?” she asked.
“Would you consider joining the Amish church?”
Stunned, Michelle could only stare ahead into the darkness, as her mind reeled with his sudden question.
“Hey, did you hear what I said?” He squeezed her fingers.
“Yes, I did. I’m just not sure how to respond.”
“I don’t expect you to give me your answer right away, but would you at least think about it?”
“Of course. In fact, the idea of becoming Amish has crossed my mind more than once since I first came to Lancaster County.”
“Really? How come you haven’t mentioned it?”
“I figured it wouldn’t be possible, so there was no point in saying anything.” Michelle shrugged. “Besides, am I good enough?”
“That’s not what you should be asking yourself. If you want it bad enough, anything is possible, Michelle. The question is—do you want to join the Amish church?”
“I–I’m not sure. I need to give it more thought. And lots of prayer,” she quickly added.
“I wonder why Michelle and Ezekiel aren’t back yet.” Grandma looked at the grandfather clock in the living room.
“I don’t know, but I’m more than ready for dessert. And if I don’t move around a bit, there’s a good chance I’ll fall asleep in my chair.” Grandpa got up from his recliner and stretched. Then he walked over in his stocking feet to the front window and gazed out toward the road. “I’m sure they’ll be here soon—especially since you have those delicious pies waiting to be sliced.”
Grandma stood too. “You’re probably right. I suppose we could begin setting things out.” She looked around the room. “Is anyone else ready for dessert?”
“I am,” Benjamin and Peter said in unison.
Their mother made a clicking noise with her tongue. “You two are always hungry. You could leave the table from eating a big meal and be ready to eat again within an hour.”
“Yeah—especially when we are offered some dessert,” Peter said, while Benjamin nodded his head.
Sara left her seat on the couch. “Why don’t you stay here and relax, Grandma? I’ll go to the kitchen, set the desserts out, and get a pot of coffee going.”
“And I’ll help her.” Lenore rose from her seat. “I’ll get some water heating for those who want tea.”
“Thank you.” Grandma smiled. “You girls are so thoughtful.”
“Think while you’re doin’ that, I’ll take a walk out to the barn.” Grandpa looked at Uncle Ivan, then over at his sons. “Anyone want to join me?”
“Jah, sure.” Uncle Ivan, Benjamin, and Peter got up and followed Grandpa to the door.
“Wait a minute, boys,” Yvonne called. “Don’t forget to take this stuffing out to feed the hogs.”
Benjamin turned around and took the bag of filling his mother held.
“Thanks, Mamm.” He grinned. “Sure wouldn’t want Grandpa’s pigs to miss out.”
Grandma sat down on the couch, and Aunt Yvonne took a seat beside her. Sara, accompanied by Lenore, went to the kitchen.
“The pies you and Grandma made sure look good.” Lenore pointed to the array of desserts sitting on a small table in one corner of the room. “Oh, and I see there’s even a loaf of bread. Is it pumpkin?”
Sara nodded. “I made that one myself. It’s from a recipe my mother used to make during the fall and winter months.”
“I can’t wait to try it.” Lenore took a stack of dessert plates from the cupboard. “How are things going? Does Michelle living here bother you?”
Leaning against the counter, Sara sighed. “Everything about Michelle irritates me. I may seem judgmental, but I don’t condone her actions and can’t understand how she could have lied to Grandma and Grandpa all those months, pretending to be me.” She lifted her shoulders. “Maybe she had a reason, but no one has ever told me what it was. I hope one of these days I’ll find out why. For Grandpa and Grandma’s sake though, I’ve been trying not to say any
thing negative about Michelle, but it’s not easy.”
Lenore nodded. “I felt the same way when I learned she had let our grandparents believe she was you.”
“How did you get past it?”
“After talking with my folks and praying about it, we all realized we needed to forgive Michelle.” Lenore filled the coffee pot with water and set it on the stove.
“I might be able to forgive her for pretending to be me and deceiving our grandparents, but I’m having a hard time with her living here.”
Lenore filled the teakettle with water and set it on the burner near the coffee pot. “It would be a challenge, but Michelle doesn’t really have any other place to go right now.”
Sara nodded. “Neither do I.”
“Really? I thought you had a duplex in New Jersey.”
“It belongs to my stepfather. I was only renting from him.” Sara explained how she’d been hoping to move to Strasburg and live with her grandparents until she found a job and a place of her own.
Lenore smiled. “I’m sure Grandma and Grandpa are happy to have you here, and they’d probably be pleased if you stayed with them indefinitely.”
“That may be true, but if Michelle continues to live here, I’m not sure I can stay and watch her trying to win them over. It seems as if she’s competing with me for their love and attention.”
Lenore moved over and slipped her arm around Sara. “Please try to give it a little more time. I’m sure things will work out.”
“I hope so.” Sara lifted her chin. “But if they don’t, I’ll definitely move out. I don’t want to be the cause of any more discord in this house.”
Sara and Lenore had just taken the desserts into the dining room when Michelle and Ezekiel showed up.
“Sorry for being gone so long,” Michelle apologized. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
Sara made an effort to smile as she thanked Michelle for her willingness to help. “I think we have everything set out.”
The men came inside a few minutes later, and everyone gathered around the table. As they enjoyed dessert and drank their hot beverages, Sara received several compliments on her pumpkin bread.
She smiled. All in all, with the exception of the turkey incident, it had been a nice Thanksgiving. But the next few days might be very different—especially with Michelle involved.
Chapter 6
Michelle sat on the back porch, petting Rascal. It had been two days since her buggy ride with Ezekiel, and since then, she’d barely thought of much else. While he hadn’t actually proposed marriage, Ezekiel had let Michelle know he wanted to pursue a relationship with her. But in order for him to do that, she’d have to become Amish.
“Could I do it?” she murmured, stroking her dog’s ears. “Would it be possible for me to make all the necessary changes in order to become an Amish woman and fit into this community?”
Rascal’s ears perked up, and tipping his head to one side, he looked at Michelle as if to say, “I bet you could do it.”
She grinned. If only I could read your mind. Or any other animal’s, for that matter. Her thoughts went to Willis’s horse, and how she’d mistrusted him at first. Michelle had done much better when Ezekiel taught her to drive, using his docile horse and comfortable buggy.
At least that’s one thing I could do well if I decided to join the Amish church. And I wouldn’t mind dressing plain or doing without electricity or modern things either.
Michelle stopped petting Rascal and shifted her position on the porch step. While she had picked up a few of the Pennsylvania Dutch words, the hardest part for her would be learning to speak the Amish language fluently. She’d also have to learn German, in order to understand what was being preached during church and other Amish services, such as weddings and funerals. Although Michelle respected the way of the Plain people, and wanted Ezekiel to court her, taking classes to prepare for church membership was a big decision—one she couldn’t make on a whim. She needed to be certain it was the right thing for her before she committed to anything. More prayer was needed—of that much Michelle was certain.
A smile touched Michelle’s lips as she remembered how she’d felt when Ezekiel had held her hand. His grip was firm and warm, even reassuring. She could hold onto his hand forever. Michelle didn’t think it was possible, but the more time she spent with Ezekiel, the more she loved him.
“Would you mind taking these down to the basement for me, Sara?” Grandma pointed to the freshly washed canning jars on the kitchen counter. They’d used the applesauce the jars had contained this morning, when Sara helped Grandma make several loaves of applesauce bread that they would take to church tomorrow. One of Grandma’s good friends was hosting church at her home, so Grandma wanted to take something to help out. The bread would be served with the noon meal.
“No problem. I’ll put the jars in one of the empty cardboard boxes I saw on the back porch and take it to the basement. Is there any particular place you want me to put the jars down there?”
“There’s a row of shelves on one side of the room for empty jars,” Grandma replied. “On the opposite wall are the shelves for glass jars I’ve filled with the fruits and vegetables I canned this summer and early fall.”
“Okay.” Sara smiled. “I’ll get the box and be back here soon to pick up the jars.”
When Sara stepped out the back door, she spotted Michelle sitting on the porch step with Rascal in her lap. She appeared to be deep in thought and didn’t seem to notice Sara had come out to the porch. Either that or she chose to ignore her. Without saying a word, Sara picked up the cardboard container.
Back inside, Sara loaded the canning jars into the box. Turning on the battery-operated light at the top of the stairs, she walked carefully down into the nearly darkened room. Once she reached the bottom, she placed the box on a small wooden table near her grandmother’s old-fashioned washing machine. Seeing a battery-operated lantern nearby, she clicked that on for additional light.
Sara spotted the wooden shelves where the empty canning jars were kept. After putting each of the jars from the box in place, she was about to head back upstairs when something caught her attention. It appeared to be a very old canning jar, partially hidden behind some other antique jars. What piqued Sara’s interest the most, however, was the fact that the antique jar looked as though it had been filled up with folded pieces of paper.
Thinking perhaps the papers had been inserted to protect the old glass, she looked away. But then, Sara’s curiosity got the best of her. She reached up and took it down from the shelf.
Placing it carefully on the wooden table, she removed the old lid and reached inside. Surprised, she discovered the piece of paper she’d taken out had writing on it.
Sara squinted at the words: “We pray because we need to see God work.”
She pursed her lips. I’ve prayed for many things over the years, but I’ve never seen God work. At least not in the way I wanted things to happen.
Even though Sara’s mother had taken her and Kenny to church a few times when they were children, Sara never understood why there was so much emphasis on prayer. She wondered sometimes if people only prayed because they thought it was the right thing to do—something to prove they were religious—and that praying might get them into heaven.
Sara’s thoughts were temporarily halted when, from the exposed ceiling above, she heard water rushing through the pipes that lead to the kitchen. Grandma must be busy at the sink still. Is she wondering what is taking me so long down here?
It didn’t seem right to go snooping through something that wasn’t hers, but hopefully she wouldn’t get caught.
When the water stopped running, and Sara heard footsteps above, she froze in place. She hoped Grandma wouldn’t come down to check on her. Sara wanted to see if something had been written on the other papers inside the jar. She couldn’t stop at one.
She reached in and took out another slip of paper. Sure enough, something had been written there too.
Sara read the words silently to herself: “And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose” Romans 8:28.
She stared at the jar. Whoever wrote these notes must have been a religious person. But I wonder what their purpose was in putting the slips of paper inside this jar. Should I ask Grandma about it or keep silent? If she’s the one who wrote them, she might have done it secretly. If Grandma is the author of these notes, could she be hiding them for some reason? Maybe I shouldn’t mention it to her.
She let out a long breath. If Sara chose to tell about this, it would be obvious that she’d been snooping. I’ll remain silent about those papers in the old glass jar—at least for now.
Sara refolded the papers and put them back in the jar. She might come down here another time and see what some of the other papers said. Right now, she needed to get back upstairs and see what else Grandma needed help with today.
At least I am helping out. Sara frowned, as her muscles tensed. That’s more than I can say for Michelle today. Apparently she thinks more about herself than others. Sara clenched her fingers around the jar. But then, that doesn’t surprise me. If the imposter could live here with my grandparents all those months, pretending to be me, she’s obviously selfish and self-centered. I wish Grandma and Grandpa would see her for what she is instead of expecting me to accept Michelle and even be her friend. Sara shook her head. That’s never going to happen.
Ezekiel paused to look around while a customer dug through her purse for a wallet to pay for the purchases she’d placed on the counter. Here it was, the Saturday after Thanksgiving, and shopping season had jumped into full swing. The family’s greenhouse buzzed with activity, and the entire King family—even Ezekiel’s sister Sylvia, who’d gotten married early last spring—had been helping out today. In addition to being Saturday, when normally they were busy with customers who worked during the week, an air of excitement could be felt. Christmas was less than a month away. Holiday orders needed to be filled, and customers came and went, buying poinsettias and sprigs of holly to decorate their homes. Even a few English clergymen had stopped by to get flowers for their churches.
The Forgiving Jar Page 4