A Stranger's Gift (Women of Pinecraft)

by Anna Schmidt

  “Tell Jeannie I have some more names for her, people who will have fruit ready beginning in October.” Emma waved and headed across the street. But as she watched her friend leave, Hester could not deny that Emma’s words had rung true. Her decision to place all of her energies in the Rainbow House project had been made at least partly because she did not want to face the fact that she was unlikely ever to marry now that Samuel was out of the picture. Who was she kidding? If her father hadn’t brought Samuel to Pinecraft, her chances of ever marrying had already been slim to none.

  Hester and Rosalyn spent the rest of the afternoon sorting through donated goods, and all the while Hester kept trying to figure out the best way to break the tension between them. Ever since her breakup with Samuel, things with Rosalyn had been uncomfortable, despite her talk with the younger woman.

  “Samuel told me that you’ve made good progress recruiting neighbors to donate fruit for the Rainbow House project,” Rosalyn ventured. As had become her habit, she did not look directly at Hester when she mentioned Samuel’s name. But at the same time she couldn’t seem to hide the shy smile that lit up her face. Hester recalled the day that Jeannie had talked about not seeing such a glow on her face, at least not when Samuel’s name came up.

  “Have you and Samuel decided on a wedding date yet?” Hester asked. At least Rosalyn wasn’t trying to pretend there was no courtship going on.

  “Oh no, it’s much too soon,” Rosalyn protested.

  “For what? You’re in love. You’re of age.”

  “Past age,” Rosalyn murmured.

  “Aren’t we all? Which is exactly my point. Why wait?”

  Rosalyn fingered a donated blouse that was embroidered with tiny blue flowers. Carefully she clipped a couple of loose threads before placing the blouse on a hanger. “I just have to be sure,” she said.

  “About Samuel?”

  Rosalyn turned and looked directly at Hester. “About you.” When Hester started to protest, Rosalyn held up her hands. “I know what you say, Hester, but are you sure?”

  “Sure that I admire Samuel enormously? Yes. Sure that there are moments when I wish he might have been the one? Yes. Sure that I don’t love him and that we would have bored each other to tears? Absolutely.”

  Rosalyn’s eyes flickered with hope but also caution. So Hester put her hands on Rosalyn’s shoulders and leaned in close. “He loves you. You love him. Marry him already. I may not be ready to be a bride, but I am hoping to be a godmother before this time next year.”

  “Hester!” Rosalyn’s cheeks darkened with embarrassment.

  “Oh, don’t sound so shocked. You get married. You have kids—at least that’s the way it’s supposed to work.”

  “So if your father were to include our names among the list of couples to be married next month…?”

  “Let me put it this way: if he doesn’t include your names on that list, the gossips of Pinecraft are going to be buzzing like you’ve never heard before. And knowing Olive Crowder, I will get the blame. Frankly, I don’t have time for that. So do everyone a huge favor and get on that list, okay?”

  Rosalyn hugged Hester hard. “You are the kindest person I know, Hester Detlef,” she exclaimed. “I am so glad that God sent you to care for me after the fire. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

  Hester couldn’t help but think that it was Rosalyn who had been her salvation. With her positive attitude and determination to go on with her life in spite of her injuries and the loss of her entire family, she had brought Hester through her own period of grief. Hester’s mother could not recover, but Rosalyn could—and did. With Hester working beside her every day, she had grown physically stronger, not weaker, and in the process, Hester had found at least some peace with her mother’s passing.

  “Well, I’m glad that’s settled,” Hester said as she returned Rosalyn’s hug. “Now let’s get this stuff put away and go shopping for fabric for your wedding dress.”

  “Oh, I have that already,” Rosalyn said and then blushed again. “I mean …”

  “I am shocked,” Hester announced, and then she grinned. “Pretty confident that I was going to give you my blessing, weren’t you?”

  “Hope is a powerful thing,” Rosalyn admitted.

  The two of them went back to sorting through the boxes of clothing, working in easy silence for several minutes until Rosalyn said, “How are things going with John Steiner?”

  Hester swallowed as she considered her answer. “Samuel would know more about that than I do.”

  “And why is that?”

  “Well, I haven’t seen much of—”

  “So Samuel has mentioned. And why is that?” she repeated. “It seemed for a time there that the two of you were getting closer. I mean, at least you weren’t coming in here all irritated and such after being with him.”

  “Are you trying to play matchmaker?” Hester said, keeping her tone light and teasing.

  “I am trying to figure out why the woman I admire probably more than anyone I know and the man that Samuel thinks very highly of have suddenly gone their separate ways. Samuel thinks that John has come to some kind of spiritual crossroads. You could help him, you know. You should help him.”

  Hester could hardly tell Rosalyn about her promise to her father, mostly because Rosalyn would want to know what had made her promise such a thing, and she certainly wasn’t about to say, Well, John told me that he killed his mother, and Dad thought …

  “And how do you suggest I go about helping a man who has repeatedly made it crystal clear that he doesn’t want or need help, from me or anyone else?”

  “Well, what if you asked him to be part of the planning committee for Rainbow House?”

  Hester opened her mouth to refute that ridiculous suggestion, but Rosalyn rushed in. “I mean, the man is a farmer. He knows stuff.”

  “He has enough to do right now,” Hester said in a tone intended to end this thread of conversation once and for all. “Samuel tells me that he plans to sell and move back to Indiana.”

  But Rosalyn was not on that particular wavelength. “That could take months. I mean, I know the two of you are like oil and water sometimes, but that’s the very reason he would be good for the project. He looks at things from a different perspective.”

  “He does at that.” Hester pictured John’s expression whenever he was mulling over a new idea.

  “So you’ll think about asking him to help?”

  “I’ll think about it,” Hester agreed. It looked like agreeing with Rosalyn was going to be the only way to get her off the subject of John Steiner.

  “Good. Now I have to run. I promised Samuel that I would meet him at the park. He’s playing shuffleboard with your father. Come join us.”

  “Maybe later,” Hester said. “I have some things to do first.”

  “Why doesn’t that surprise me?” Rosalyn asked with a wry smile as she hurried off.

  John helping on the Rainbow House project. John serving with her—and Emma, Jeannie, Grady, and the others—on the planning committee. It might work on a number of different levels, she thought.

  But how to convince her father of that?

  On Saturday evening as Hester and Arlen shared the task of washing and wiping the supper dishes, she decided the time had come to address the matter of John Steiner. “Dad?”

  Obviously distracted, Arlen said, “Samuel brought me a letter from John today.”

  “A letter?” She tried to contain her excitement at news that John had been in contact. Perhaps this was a good sign. She had certainly prayed long and hard for God to show them the way. And she couldn’t deny that underlying every prayer was her hope that God’s will would include the opportunity for her to see John again. The more she thought about the pain he must have suffered after his mother’s tragic and sudden death, the more she felt that they shared something in common and could possibly provide the understanding and comfort that others could not. After all, each of them understood at
least some of what the other had been through. She could help him.

  “Hester?”

  She’d been so lost in thought that she’d failed to pay attention as her father talked on. Now Arlen was holding a sheet of yellow paper ripped from a pad and folded several times.

  “Read it, and see what you think. You know John as well as any of us.”

  She dried her hands and unfolded the paper.

  Dear Pastor Detlef,

  This is my formal request for you and your disaster committee to consider whether or not your offer to help in restoring the second story of my home is still valid. If so, I would be grateful for a meeting to discuss terms.

  Yours in the Lord,

  John Steiner

  Hester felt a smile tug at her mouth. This was so like him. Blunt and to the point and yet leaving the reader somewhat mystified. She could almost see him struggling over the choice of each word.

  “What do you think it means?” Arlen asked.

  “Well, it seems pretty clear that John is finally ready to accept the help you’ve offered,” she said as she carefully folded the letter and handed it back to him. “On the other hand, he’s determined to maintain control of the process.”

  “But why now?” Arlen scratched his head. “We have made numerous offers and all have been rejected. Samuel tells me that Grady also made attempts to provide assistance and was turned away. And just what does he mean about ‘discussing terms’? What terms?”

  Hester shrugged. “Samuel did mention that John was thinking of selling the place. Perhaps he’s come to accept that he’ll have more success with that if the property is fully repaired, especially the house.”

  “It’s certainly prime real estate,” Arlen agreed. “And now that the hurricane has ruined the soil for growing anything, I suppose the most likely buyer might be some developer. But a developer wouldn’t care about the house, and with the economy still uncertain …”

  “Will you help him?”

  Arlen was clearly surprised by her question. “Of course we’ll help him. We judge not, Hester. You know that.”

  And yet in a way he had judged John, she thought. When he had asked her to promise to stay away at a time when the man clearly needed every friend he could turn to, wasn’t that the same as judging him?

  “I don’t think you can just show up there with a crew, Dad,” she said as she dried and put away the last pot. “He asked for a meeting.”

  Arlen unfolded the letter and read through it again. “I could send word by Samuel on Monday. In the meantime, after church tomorrow, I’ll speak with some of our volunteers and see when they might be available.”

  “You could drive out there after church,” Hester suggested. “That would give you time to see exactly what the work might be before you put a crew together.”

  “That’s a good idea,” Arlen said, kissing her lightly on her temple. He headed for his study, where he would spend the rest of the evening going over his sermon for the following day. “And, Hester? If you have no other plans, perhaps you could ride along? It occurs to me that you, as well as John, have had some major changes in your life’s journey these last days. Perhaps it would help him to talk to you, and vice versa.”

  She tried without success to quell the sudden leap of pleasure she felt at his invitation. “That would be fine,” she said, turning away so that he would not see that she was smiling.

  Chapter 22

  Sunday morning held all of the promise of a day that would yield many blessings. A blue sky sprinkled with marshmallow clouds greeted those arriving for services at the Palm Bay Mennonite Church. There was an aura of excitement. In the Mennonite tradition, this was the day Arlen would announce the planned nuptials for four happy couples, among them Samuel and Rosalyn. Even Olive Crowder was smiling, at least until she spotted Hester outside the church.

  “I understand that you have abandoned your duties as our representative to MCC,” she said.

  “I would hardly say abandoned,” Hester replied, trying to smile through gritted teeth. “I have asked Rosalyn to assume those responsibilities while I—”

  Olive sighed and raised her eyes to the blue skies above as if praying for patience. “Ja. Ja. We have heard of your new project. And I would ask you how the gathering of fruit from the yards of outsiders can possibly measure up to the work you have performed for MCC since your dear mother’s death. Work that you took on in order to honor Sarah.”

  “My mother,” Hester began and then found she had to gulp in a deep breath of fresh air before continuing. “I believe that my mother would be proud of all the work I do for others. She made no distinction between helping those outside the community and those within.”

  Olive pursed her lips, and Hester could see that she was considering her next words very carefully. Just then her sister Agnes came rushing over. “Oh, Hester, so glad to catch you before the service. I wanted to tell you that yesterday at our quilting session, everyone was just buzzing about your plan to collect fruit and rebuild the shelter. Oh, there are a few who cannot yet see the brilliance of your idea….” She paused for a breath and cast a sidelong glance at Olive, who huffed and left to find her seat. Then Agnes squeezed Hester’s arm. “May God bless this wonderful work you are undertaking to help those less fortunate, Hester.”

  “Danke, Agnes.”

  “Whatever I can do to help, you just let me know,” she pledged and hurried off after her sister.

  Inside the small frame church building, the women sat apart from the men on wooden pews. Several ladies fanned themselves with cardboard fans mounted on sticks. The building was not air conditioned, and although the weather outside was mild, inside the packed church, the air was close. Hester slid in next to her grandmother, Nelly, and a minute later, Emma and her daughter, Sadie, squeezed in next to them as Rosalyn took the seat on the aisle.

  “Exciting day,” Emma whispered to Rosalyn.

  “Ja,” Rosalyn replied as she cast an adoring glance at Samuel, who had just entered the building. “Ja,” she repeated, folding her hands and closing her eyes tightly as she bowed her head in what Hester guessed was a prayer of thanksgiving.

  As everyone settled in and grew still, Emma Keller’s husband, Lars, stepped to the front of the crowded room to deliver the call to worship.

  For I was an hungred, and ye gave me meat: I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink: I was a stranger, and ye took me in.

  “Matthew, chapter 25, verse 35,” Lars said and then took his seat as everyone found the first hymn and stood as one to sing. Their voices rose in the a cappella harmony that in their faith left no room for the organ or piano accompaniment common in churches of other faiths.

  It always made Hester smile that those members of the congregation who seemed the most reserved outside the church were the very ones who sang out with the greatest enthusiasm and gusto. Agnes Crowder’s powerful alto, for example, could be heard above all the rest of the women combined.

  At the close of the hymn, her father stepped forward to lead them in prayer. Several years earlier he had persuaded the congregation that this opening prayer should be a silent one with each member of the congregation setting aside whatever joys and sorrows he or she might have carried to church with them that morning. “It is a time to open our hearts and minds to consider God’s concerns and how you might best serve Him in addressing those concerns.”

  From outside the open windows came the sounds of traffic, the occasional distant siren, voices of those on the street. But inside the crowded sanctuary, everything and everyone was absolutely still.

  Next to Hester, Nelly put down her fan and took in a deep breath then silently moved her lips in prayer. On the other side of her, Emma folded her hands in her lap and closed her eyes. But Hester’s mind was clogged with everything she had to do in the coming week. Even now, nearly two months after the hurricane, the work went on. And on top of everything else, the Rainbow House project was moving forward almost with a will of its own.


  Jeannie had called a reporter she knew at the local Sarasota newspaper and provided him with information about the project. Since that article had appeared, Jeannie’s telephone had been ringing constantly with people across the entire city offering to donate fruit that would be ready to pick in just a matter of weeks. Jeannie’s daughter, Tessa, had come up with the idea of recruiting her friends and their grandmothers to prepare the jars and labels they would need for making the marmalade they would sell. Emma’s daughter, Sadie, who was far more outgoing than her cousin, had gone from store to store on both Main Street and around St. Armand’s Circle collecting cash donations. And Jeannie had persuaded the manager of the city’s largest farmers’ market to give them a space for the coming season at no charge. So whether Hester was ready or not, the Rainbow House project was on the march.