Planted with Hope

by Tricia Goyer

  Hope tried to hide her disappointment that Jonas wasn’t with Emma. “Ja, I’ve missed Emma. I’ve been waiting for her so I can plant the beets.”

  Emma wrinkled her nose. “Beets?”

  Ruth Ann gave the girl no mind. “Well, if she’s not too much of a bother.”

  “Ne, I love having her.” Hope took Emma’s hand. “Are you ready to do some planting?”

  For the next hour, Emma and Hope planted turnips, peas, beets, and cauliflower. When they finished, Hope dropped down onto the blanket on the grass next to Emma. They sat on the blanket and stared up at the clouds, trying to find pictures in the white forms.

  Then, just when Hope was about to suggest that they go get ice cream, Jonas walked around the corner, carrying a book bag.

  Hope quickly sat up and tucked her skirt around her legs.

  His smile was large. “The garden looks good. Did you work on it all afternoon?”

  “Over the weekend most. I worked on it by myself, but this afternoon I had help.” She brushed away dirt from Emma’s cheek. “Emma is the best helper.”

  “Have you had any other helpers? Or advisors?”

  Hope smiled up at them. “Oh, I had plenty of advisors this weekend. Lots of friends from the village have stopped by.”

  Jonas chuckled. “Was the advice welcomed?”

  “I’d never send anyone away.”

  Jonas smiled and nodded as if he understood.

  Emma rose to her knees. “Hope let me put seeds in the holes!”

  “I imagine you did a wonderful job.” Jonas reached over and gently tweaked Emma’s ear. There was a comfortable ease between father and daughter that Hope didn’t often see. It was a relationship forged with time. Amish men loved their children, but they were often many of them. It was hard to give too much attention to just one.

  Amish men were also busy in everyday tasks or they were at work all day, and they especially didn’t spend a lot of time with their daughters. Yet the relationship between Jonas and Emma was different. She smiled, imagining the young girl tagging along with her father as he worked on the farm.

  They sat and chatted for a while longer, and then Jonas took his daughter’s hand. “Well, we need to get going. Ruth Ann is planning dinner.”

  “Oh, all right.” Hope looked at him, wondering if he was going to ask about the schoolchildren being allowed to help in the garden, but he didn’t say a word.

  “Hope, I wanted to check with you—do you mind if we stop by tomorrow afternoon? I have something I want to do for you.”

  “For me?”

  “Ja.”

  “I will be here.” She didn’t know what else to say. I always want to see you, Jonas. “You really don’t need to do—”

  Jonas held up a hand, halting her words. “Gut. I’m looking forward to it.”

  “Me too.”

  Emma gave Hope another squeeze.

  And as they walked away Hope was certain they were taking a piece of her heart with them.

  Working with Mother Nature

  Almost any kind of care will produce vegetables of a sort; in fact there are some kinds that are difficult to kill after they once have a start. But you do not want just vegetables; one of the objectives of vegetable-gardening is the enjoyment of a better quality than is found in products purchased from the stores. To produce vegetables of good quality and texture you must work sympathetically with Old Mother Nature, with a knowledge of her processes, so that the plants under your care will grow.*

  * Ross H. Gast, Vegetables in the California Garden: A Home Gardener’s Guide, with Notes on the Planting and Care of Fruits and Berries and an Introduction to the Small-home (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 1933), 1.

  Chapter Sixteen

  It’s better to give others a piece of your heart than a piece of your mind.

  AMISH PROVERB

  The sound of a hammer rang out from the back of the garden area when Hope arrived the next afternoon. She waved at the customers sitting near the front window of Me, Myself, and Pie, and then she quickened her steps. What was going on? Was Noah building or remodeling something?

  She rounded the corner of the building, and it wasn’t Noah there, but Jonas. Hope paused her steps and her heartbeat quickened seeing him there. He was framing something. This must have been what Jonas meant when he said that he had something for her. She clasped her hands in front of her. It was almost too much to believe. Jonas had already worked all day teaching school, and now this. She’d never known someone so giving and kind.

  “What is this?” She eyed it curiously. “Maybe a playhouse for Emma?”

  He turned to her and grinned, but he didn’t answer.

  “Well.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Are you going to keep me in suspense?” She gently reached out with her thumb and wiped at the sawdust that had accumulated on the plank at the top of the pile. “It looks gut, whatever it is.”

  Jonas pulled a red handkerchief from his back pocket and wiped his brow. “Danke. I’m making a tool shed.”

  “A tool shed?”

  He glanced down at the bucket that she’d set at her feet. “Aren’t you getting tired of lugging that bucket around? And I thought we could get some donations of tools for the children too.”

  She cringed again, thinking of those children digging in her soil. “I—I haven’t really decided about that yet.”

  “I know. But if you do decide, I’ll be here to help you oversee them. They’re not going to hurt your plants.”

  “Can you promise that?”

  Jonas winked. “Well, not all of them.”

  “You make me wonderful mad sometimes, Jonas Sutter.”

  “Is that why you’re smiling at me?”

  “Ja, I suppose it is.”

  She watched as Jonas built the tool shed. It was larger than she needed for the items from the tool bucket. But as much as she wanted to tell Jonas that it would be all right for the children to come and help, she couldn’t.

  “Where’s Emma?” she asked.

  “She and Ruth Ann are visiting neighbors today. As much as I like Emma’s help I thought it best she not hang around when I’m hammering.” Then he looked back at the hammer and nails as if trying to decide if he had more to say. “Besides, I thought it would be nice to just spend some time with you, Hope.”

  Her eyebrows shot up and her stomach flipped once and then twice. “Really?”

  “Ja.” He nodded. “I’d like to hear more about your life in Ohio and what it was like growing up with four sisters.”

  And so Hope told him. She told him about their farm in Walnut Creek, about the vegetable stand by the road and about her dat’s illness that he couldn’t shake. “When the doctor told us Dat wouldn’t last another winter up north, we had no choice but to move.”

  “And he’s doing better now—your dat.”

  “Ja, thankfully. I appreciate your asking.”

  Jonas shared too about being one of the youngest in a large family. “I’d get into more trouble than any kid, I think. I’ve gotten stuck in dry wells and had to get stitched from falling out of trees a few times. I suppose I know where Emma got her adventurous nature.”

  Picturing Jonas as a little boy getting into all types of trouble made her laugh. And as they talked he built the tool shed with ease. She supposed he learned all types of skills taking care of his own farm.

  As it neared dinnertime, Hope waved as Jonas headed out. She hated to see him go. She also hated to give him the answer she wanted to give. As much as she appreciated his help—and the tool shed—she still did not like the idea of allowing children into her garden.

  At home, it was Grace’s turn to make dinner, and she was grinning from ear to ear as Hope walked through the front door of the Miller house.

  Grace turned, wiping her hands on a dish towel. “Guess what, Hope? We’re having soup tonight, and it’s not Thursday, it’s Tuesday.”

  Hope sniffed the air. “Soup?”

&nbs
p; “Ja, I got the recipe from your journal. Onion soup gratinée. Doesn’t that sound fancy?”

  Hope glanced over to the kitchen table where she’d left the journal. Thankfully it was still there. “You were careful with the journal, weren’t you? I’d hate anything to happen to it.”

  “I actually wrote the recipe on a piece of paper first. I didn’t want to have the journal in the kitchen getting splatters on it. I hope that’s all right.”

  Hope nodded. “Ja. It smells amazing. I can’t wait to try it.”

  Joy was setting the table. “Oh, guess who I saw today, Hope? Janet came in today for more fabric for a quilt project. She wanted to meet you. She also wanted to see what you thought of the journal so far.”

  Excitement bubbled in Hope’s stomach. In her mind Janet had become a hero, of sorts, working alongside her mother during the war. “She wants to meet me?”

  “Ja. Do you think tomorrow at lunch would work?” Joy asked. “She said she’d be happy to meet us at Yoder’s. If it doesn’t work we just need to let Elizabeth know.”

  Hope nodded. “I’d love to.” She clasped her hands together, trying to picture Janet in her mind’s eye. She was Englisch, not Amish, but Hope pictured someone with a fun, spunky attitude, just like it seemed her mother had.

  The onion soup tasted wonderful, and Faith asked if she could look through the journal for ideas for her cooking night.

  “Ja, of course, but can I let you look through the journal tomorrow night? I’d like to do a little reading tonight. After all, I’ll be meeting Janet tomorrow.”

  After the kitchen was cleaned up from dinner, Hope went to the living room and sat down with the journal once again.

  Friday, May 1, 1942

  Before two months ago the only time I’d ever seen the neighbor boy from next door was when he occasionally snaked under the fence to retrieve his baseball, hoping my mother didn’t see him in her prized flower garden. Today he came over to check out the garden with me. Now I know that his name is Tommy. He has a great sense of humor, and he even loves sitting down and reading books to Janet. Tommy is nine years old, and he can read much better than Janet, who just turned six. She loves listening to stories too. Then, last month, Tommy came over with his mother and I offered a plot in the garden.

  Today the new green sprouts were evidence of their hard work. Tommy was very excited to see the first new sprouts come up. We had our first harvest too. We had a wonderful salad for dinner, and Janet said she’d never tasted one so good. Even my mother noted that the vegetables from the garden tasted better than those she usually bought in the store. She seemed surprised by that. To tell you the truth, I was surprised by it too. It’s amazing to think how much has changed in just a few short months, and all because of a garden.

  The day before I planted my garden I’d walked around town and checked out jobs, thinking I should join the workforce. Daddy has been so generous since Richard died, promising to care for Janet and me. Still, I had to find something to do. The jobs available were a pin girl at the bowling alley and a job in the 10-cent store. There were jobs at their air force base, but after Richard’s accident I was pretty sure that my heart couldn’t take being around all the soldiers. Now the garden is my work. These neighbors are my co-laborers. No, more than that… they are friends.

  Friday, May 15, 1942

  Yesterday we had someone new at our garden. His name was Henry, and he trains pilots over at the airfield. He heard about the garden from one of our neighbors who serves at other USO dances. Henry had a garden back in Kansas, and he’s been missing it.

  With the two new airfields, men from around the country can be found all over town, enjoying the good weather and wide-open spaces. Sometimes I see a group of them having a night out in town. At times like that it’s hard to remember there’s a war still on. Then I’m knocked in the head again with food rationing, gas shortages, and travel limits. Thankfully, we have the garden.

  When my parents have friends over they always love to come over and see it. Maybe it’s making a positive influence. I think it is. I recently heard that my father’s friend, Powell Crosley, offered his mansion to be used as an officer’s club for the Sarasota Army base. This war is bringing about a lot of loss and a lot of pain, but it’s bringing together our community in ways I never expected. Makes me think we’re sowing more than vegetable seeds. Sometimes I think we’re sowing a legacy.

  Tonight I might go to the USO dance with a friend. Henry said he’d be there. Part of me feels like I’m too old to be there. I’m a mother of a little girl after all, but Henry is someone worth getting to know, and Janet likes him too.

  Hope closed the journal. The aroma of the onion soup still filled the room. She breathed it in, trying to imagine Pauline cooking the same soup. She tried to imagine Janet again. In her mind, she pictured a young girl, but tomorrow she’d meet Janet grown up. Janet shared all the memories that Hope was reading about.

  And tomorrow history would come to life in a person.

  Onion Soup Gratinée

  3 onions

  3 Tbsp butter or other fat

  3 pints beef stock

  ¾ tsp. salt, dash pepper

  ⅛ clove garlic

  ¼ loaf French bread

  3 Tbsp grated cheese

  Slice onions thin and simmer in butter until soft and slightly browned. Add beef stock, boil 10 minutes, add salt, pepper, and garlic. Cut bread into thin slices, dry in the oven a few minutes, pour soup into a casserole, place bread on top, sprinkle with grated cheese, and set in a very hot oven (450° to 500°) just long enough to brown the cheese. Serves 6.*

  * Ruth Berolzheimer, 250 Delicious Soups (Consolidated Book Publishers, Inc., 1940), 12.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Courage is faith singing in the rain.

  AMISH PROVERB

  Rain poured outside of Yoder’s Restaurant, and Hope watched a group of Amish women walking down the street with umbrellas—two women under each. She sat at the table and watched the door, looking for Joy and Janet. Her heart leapt when she saw Joy holding an umbrella high over the woman’s head, leading her inside.

  Janet was tall and thin. She walked with a cane, but it looked as if she was only using it for decoration. Joy paused and pointed Hope’s direction, and Janet hurried toward her. Hope stood as the older woman approached, and Janet offered a quick squeeze.

  “Oh, there you are. Elizabeth has told me so much about you. She said that you were lovely, but I never imagined you’d have such beautiful hair. It’s such a nice shade of red.”

  “Thank you.” Hope gazed into the woman’s blue eyes, and she tried to imagine all that the woman had seen over the years. She swallowed and told herself not to say anything foolish. “It’s so wonderful to meet you. I’ve been enjoying your mother’s journal. She sounds like she was an amazing woman.”

  “She was.” Janet gazed over Hope’s head with a wistful look. “She loved to garden, and she passed that love on to me.” Then, with a shrug of her shoulders, Janet sat in the chair across from Hope and patted the seat beside her, motioning for Joy to sit. “Whenever one wanted to talk to my mother he or she just had to go to the garden—that was where she could be found. I’ve often thought before what a shame it would have been if she’d never discovered the joy of planting and growing. The war brought many painful things, but it also changed us in ways that we couldn’t have imagined. Change does that. Often we grow the best in the places we don’t want to be.”

  Hope nodded and she wondered if Elizabeth had been talking to Janet. Did Elizabeth know that Hope was planning on leaving Pinecraft? Did Janet know?

  The waitress came, and they ordered. Asian chicken salad for Janet, smoked ham for Joy, and a stuffed tomato with tuna salad for Hope.

  “If my mother was here she would have ordered the BLT with sliced turkey—the bacon extra crisp,” Janet said with a laugh. “Growing up I’d be so embarrassed we’d go to these nice, fancy restaurants and she’d always ask for a
BLT.” Janet’s smile softened. “That was my mother. She was raised in high society and could waltz with the best of them, but she was most comfortable around ordinary folks. She’d make a best friend out of anyone she met—that’s something the war years taught her too. We all needed each other back then, all of us from rich to poor. The war was an amazing leveling field.”

  Janet asked about Hope’s garden, and Hope enjoyed telling her about all she’d done so far.

  “I’m eager to see the first sprouts. I’ve never planted in January before. There’s always still snow on the ground this time of year back home in Ohio,” Hope said.

  Janet focused on Hope’s gaze, and it was as if the woman was trying to read something deeper there. And instead of asking about Ohio Janet turned the topic of conversation. “And it sounds like you have a little helper in Emma.”

  “Oh, ja. I just love that little girl, but she is mischievous.”

  “She sounds like me when I was her age.” She chuckled. “Thankfully my mother didn’t write as much about me in the journal as she could have—like the time I hid worms in my grandmother’s shoes.” Janet wrinkled her nose and fanned her face as the memories obviously reeled through her mind. “If all my exploits were recorded in the Victory Journal I might not have allowed you to read it.”

  “I’m so glad you did. I think about your mother’s garden when I’m working in my own.” Hope took a sip from her raspberry iced tea. “But as much as I love reading it, I love hearing about it more.” Hope leaned close.

  “Oh, you don’t want to hear all about the good ol’ days, do you?”

  “Ja. I do. Very much.”

  Janet nodded and smiled, and from the light in her eyes Hope could see that she was back there again… back in the garden with her mother.

  Their lunch arrived, and Hope and Joy said a silent prayer. When they were finished Janet prayed out loud for them all. The food smelled wonderful, but Hope was more interested in Janet than the food.