Secret at Pebble Creek

by Lisa Jones Baker

  When Jessica started to speak, Mary went on. “You know, sometimes we’re so busy that we overlook miracles in our lives. Think about it, Jessica. Life is a miracle. Don’t you ever wonder how this”—she waved a hand at the property—“all started?”

  Jessica pondered the question as Mary went back to her work. But the girl’s words stuck in Jessica’s mind. Long moments later, Mary finally broke the silence and changed the subject.

  “Jessica, I’m also going to pray for this rose, because it’s special in more ways than one. Did you know that when this plant blooms, it produces a unique-looking bud?”

  “Really?”

  “Jah. It’s a classic long-stemmed rose. When people talk about roses, this is what they typically think of. They’re ideal for bouquets. And this one in particular is called a Bella’roma. When it blooms, it’s yellow, and the tips are a reddish hue.” She paused. “You know what I said about miracles?”

  Jessica nodded.

  “Well, this is definitely one.” Her voice dropped to a tone edged with wonder. “How on earth could any plant produce such a beautiful, ornate-looking flower without a Creator?”

  Jessica pressed her lips together thoughtfully. The girl made a good point. “It sounds absolutely beautiful.”

  “It is. That’s why Old Sam liked it enough to plant it for Esther’s birthday in memory of her. And oh”—Mary took an excited breath—“I wish you could smell its sweet fragrance! You’d absolutely fall in love with it, Jessica.”

  “I can’t wait for it to revive!”

  Mary darted Jessica a wink. “In my heart, I believe it will. It’s special. But it’s certainly not the only gorgeous plant in the world. You want to know what my favorite of all time is?”

  Jessica looked at her.

  “It’s a beautiful hybrid tea called Chicago Peace.”

  “How is it different from this little guy?”

  “It’s got quite a history. It was bred in France in the early nineteen hundreds. Later, it was introduced in the Chicago area. It’s hardy, which makes it easier to grow than some, and it’s a perennial. If you’re not into plants, that means that it automatically comes back every year. What’s cool is that it gets pretty large for a rose.”

  “How big does it get?”

  “About five feet.”

  “Wow.”

  “Jah. And it doesn’t require much maintenance; of course, it always helps to be aware of the pH and water requirements.”

  Jessica listened.

  “It’s amazing all of the different flowers that God created. And each has its own identity to make it unique.” Before Jessica could absorb all that Mary had said, the girl unexpectedly jumped up from her sitting position and ran her hands over her apron. “Time for finishing touches. Just a moment … I’ll be back.”

  Mary brushed her palms together. As she stepped to her buggy, Jessica got up and followed her.

  Mary reached inside and pulled out a small plastic bag.

  “Mulch?”

  “Jah. After I pour the mixture around the bush, I’ll cover the area to help keep moisture in. That will give the rose a chance to absorb my vitamin mixture.” In an optimistic gesture, she lifted her shoulders. “Then it’s up to God to work His magic. Prayer.”

  Jessica wasn’t sure how to respond.

  “Because in the end, whether the rose lives or doesn’t stay alive is up to God. And I’m convinced that prayers influence His decision.”

  As Jessica considered Mary’s theory, they walked back to the roses where Mary lowered her voice to barely more than a whisper. “Old Sam knew how I loved nurturing roses. In fact, he used to tell me not to complain about the thorns, to be happy that the bush has them.”

  “He was so wise.”

  She nodded. “And you know what I liked most about him?”

  “What?”

  “His proverbs. There wasn’t one he didn’t know. And when I worry about something, I try to think of a proverb to help me put things into perspective.”

  Jessica knelt on the opposite side of the rose and met the young girl’s gaze before she resumed her task at hand. “What would he have said to me about selling this place?”

  Mary paused and looked down at the ground. As she did so, she pressed her lips together into a firm line. When she looked up at Jessica, her lips curved into a gentle smile.

  “I think I know which one he’d use. He used to say that the structure of a home isn’t important. It’s the people in it who count.”

  *

  The following evening, Jessica watched as Eli’s crew pulled out of the long drive and slowly disappeared down the blacktop. She pressed her lips together in deliberation. For several moments, she considered all that she’d put on Eli’s shoulders since she’d come to the countryside.

  As the warm breeze blew some strands of hair in her eyes, she carefully shoved them back over her ears and quickly decided that Eli Miller got more than he had bargained for. Not only was he fixing her house, but she was leaning on him to help her to know about her great-uncle. She was fully aware that inside, Eli still grieved. Yet she was pressing him for information.

  As always, the thought of Eli prompted a smile. She breathed in and stepped away from the kitchen. As she went to the side door, she turned to take in the improvements. This is becoming a gorgeous room. I’d love to take it back to St. Louis.

  She admired the beautiful cabinets. She carried one of the boxes of plates to the kitchen and began to unwrap them and return them to the cabinet shelves. As she moved her finger over the wood shelves, she frowned and acknowledged the need to dust first.

  She found the Murphy Oil Soap and sprayed it on the lower shelves. As she ran a cloth over the beautiful wood, she breathed in the pleasant scent. She climbed up on the countertop using the step stool that Eli and Wayne had left in the room and continued to spray and wipe the top shelves.

  Afterwards, she used Windex to clean the glass. Installation of the large floor tiles had begun, and already, the kitchen had taken on the rustic and modern look that she so wanted.

  The fireplace bricks looked like new. When the countertops were finished and the wall opened up, the place would be fit for a magazine cover. It would be hard to leave this place.

  She quickly turned her thoughts to the conversation she’d just had with Eli. His obvious lack of desire to find what Old Sam’s key unlocked disappointed her.

  Though, of course, why would Eli care about finding it? Even though he’d been a dear friend to her great-uncle, he wasn’t Sam’s own flesh and blood. And perhaps not having met Old Sam made Jessica even more determined to learn about him so she could feel part of his life.

  Her cell phone rang, and she answered.

  “Jessica, it’s Sandy. Are you sitting down?”

  Jessica fell back onto the nearest chair. “I am now. Why?”

  “We have a very interested buyer.”

  A combination of tension and excitement made Jessica tighten her grip on the phone.

  “Already? That’s great! It’s not even listed.”

  “We may not have to. A businessman from out East has gotten wind of your property. He doesn’t plan to live here, but he’s very interested in the Amish and is toying with the idea of purchasing Pebble Creek for a vacation home.”

  Jessica stiffened and absorbed what she’d just heard. Her heart pumped with excitement. And doubt. Pebble Creek meant a lot to the Miller family, and they wanted a family to buy the place and make new memories. That’s what Eli’s family yearned for. They strongly believed it’s what her great-uncle would have wanted, too.

  “Jessica? Are you still there?”

  Jessica realized that her agent awaited a response. So Jessica thought of what to say. “That’s good news, Sandy. I’m glad there’s interest. Hopefully, it will sell quickly. I’m really hoping, though, for a family to have it. We’ve talked about it …”

  “Honey, no promises, but his agent tells me that if this guy decides to make
an offer, you’ll be able to name your price.”

  After Jessica ended the call, she clicked off her phone and let out a sigh. She frowned at the news. Because if this actually materialized, the Miller family would not be happy.

  *

  The following Saturday, a light knock startled Jessica. Eli wouldn’t be back till Monday. She stepped toward the entrance and checked the peephole. As soon as she opened the door, she faced a friendly smile.

  “Gut morning, Jessica.”

  The woman handed her a plate.

  Jessica smiled and met the woman’s gaze with joy. “Thank you, Annie.” Jessica held the plate closer, breathing in the light scent. “They smell delicious.”

  “And they’re still warm. I just took them from the oven.”

  As Jessica eyed the fragile-looking desserts with enthusiastic curiosity, Annie laughed. “They’re sponge cakes. My specialty. And your great-uncle loved them.”

  Jessica motioned to the table. “Please, Annie. Have a seat. I’m so glad you’re here.”

  Annie looked around and nodded satisfaction. “Beautiful. Old Sam would approve, I’m sure.”

  “You really think so?”

  “Jah.”

  Jessica sat opposite Eli’s mother. It wasn’t hard to feel at ease with this woman because she was so friendly and because her smile was so genuine. Her hair was tucked underneath a kapp, and her voice was soft and kind.

  Suddenly remembering her manners, Jessica pressed her palms against her thighs and lifted her chin in a newfound confidence. “Would you like a glass of sun tea? I just brewed a fresh pitcher. Nothing fancy. Just good old Lipton.”

  “Thank you, Jessica. That would be nice. My! The fireplace looks new!”

  As Jessica stepped to the kitchen, she motioned. “I hope you’ll excuse the mess.”

  Annie waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, that’s to be expected. And trust me, I’ve been there. I remember when we built our home. For six months, there was only one usable room, and that was the living room. But all the while, we imagined what it would look like in the end.” She smiled. “And believe me, it was worth the mess!”

  Jessica reached for two plastic glasses. She set them down, pulled an ice tray from the freezer, and twisted it to release the cubes. They clinked as they fell into the glasses.

  She proceeded to pour from the gallon pitcher.

  Jessica returned to the table with the two beverages. She placed one in front of Annie and the other in front of her chair. Then she grabbed two paper plates and two plastic forks from a bag and winked. “To make things easy, I’m using disposable cups and plates.” Jessica leaned forward. “I’ve been dying to talk to you, Annie.”

  “About what?”

  Jessica considered the question and smiled with a shrug. “Everything!”

  The two shared a laugh.

  “For starters, do you know where Old Sam’s and Esther’s favorite spot was?” She continued to explain about the letter and the key.

  Annie frowned. “No, I don’t. Now you’ve piqued my interest.”

  Jessica went on. “Annie, I want to know how you and my great-uncle became so close.”

  Annie breathed in and looked away before meeting Jessica’s gaze. “Where do I begin? There’s so much to tell.” Annie blinked at the sting of tears. “I guess I could fill you in on how the three of us took care of him after Esther’s death.”

  “You mean Rebecca, Rachel, and you?”

  “Jah.”

  Jessica took a drink.

  “If I had to choose the starting place for my relationship with your great-uncle, I guess it would be right after Esther passed on. Of course, I’m sure you already know that. When she succumbed to pneumonia, Sam went through a difficult time.” She paused. “Ironically, he eventually passed from the same thing.”

  Jessica parted her lips in sympathy. “Poor Uncle Sam.”

  “Jah. He lost a lot of weight after Esther died. Wasn’t talking much. It must have been hard.” Annie took a quick drink and held the beverage in her hand. “I mean they were married nearly six decades. Jessica, I knew I had to do something. And since Esther had been famous for her sponge cakes, I thought that if I learned to make them, and feed Old Sam, then he’d cheer up.” She lifted her shoulders in a light shrug.

  Jessica’s eyes widened. “And did he?”

  “Eventually.” Annie grinned. “At first, my cakes didn’t turn out like Esther’s. Of course, you realize that Esther was the best cook around. So I had big shoes to fill.”

  Jessica nodded.

  “But Maemm helped me. And I kept trying.” Annie’s smile widened, and she lifted her chin a confident notch. “Eventually, Old Sam told me that I’d give Esther a run for her money with the desserts.”

  Jessica closed her eyes in delight as she took a bite of the cake. “They’re delicious.”

  “Denki.” Annie nodded. After a pause to drink more tea, she went on. “I guess you could say that the rest is history. I took him sponge cakes once a week. Sometimes more.” Annie lowered her voice. “I couldn’t let him starve. But it’s funny what happened …”

  “What?”

  “Old Sam loved to talk, so I’d stay and chat while he worked on his hope-chest lids.” She drew her hands to her chest with affection. Jessica’s heart melted as she realized the pain her great-uncle must have experienced and the wonderful Amish neighbors who’d done all they could to cheer him.

  “Eventually, we got our Old Sam back, he gained weight, and he took to making hope chests more seriously than ever. To be honest, Jessica, I think that using his creative talents really pulled him through.”

  Jessica nodded her head in agreement. “And of course, he must have missed Esther’s cooking in a big way. Good thing you learned how to make his favorite desserts.”

  Tears sparkled in Annie’s eyes. “Those two … they were such a special pair. That’s for sure.”

  Jessica recalled the two other girls who’d helped him and leaned forward, swirling the tea in her glass to mix with the melting ice. “How ’bout Rachel and Rebecca? What did they cook?”

  Annie held up a finger while she finished a bite of the white cake. After she swallowed, she picked up the conversation. “They didn’t. But they filled the void that Esther had left in other ways. Funny: God gives each of us special talents to help others.”

  Jessica stiffened. God. It slid off of Eli’s mother’s lips as if He were a close friend. When she mentioned Him, it was as if she knew Him. Just like she’d known Old Sam.

  “Rachel always had a big heart for animals, especially horses.” A fond laugh escaped Annie’s throat. “That girl would sit with Sam for hours and listen to his horse-and-buggy stories, Jessica. Sam loved to reminisce. And with Rachel, he had an attentive audience, that’s for sure.”

  “And Rebecca took him fresh flowers, right?”

  Annie nodded. The pink glow in Annie’s cheeks and the friendly timbre of her voice told Jessica right away that the three must be best friends. And they’d all played a role in her uncle’s recovery from the loss of his dear wife.

  “Ever since I’ve known Rebecca Sommer …” She rolled her eyes and corrected herself. “’Course that was a long time ago. It’s Rebecca Conrad now … Anyways, she always had a thing for plants.”

  Annie grinned. “Old Sam let her dry plants in his barn, and she made arrangements at a very early age. After she married William, she actually started a business and with every arrangement, she attaches a bit of scripture.” Annie lifted her palms in a gesture of amazement. “You see what I mean about God making us each with our own talents?”

  Jessica didn’t respond. Instead, she absorbed Annie’s belief in God and contemplated her theory that He’d given everyone their own talents. She wasn’t sure if God was or wasn’t, but the question piqued her interest. If He did exist, what unique talent had He given her? The question pulled at her until Annie’s voice broke her from her reverie.

  “Jessica?”


  Jessica smiled a little. “Sorry. I guess you could say that my interest is piqued. About Old Sam. And other things.”

  Annie slid her chair closer to the table and said in a serious tone, “You want to know something, Jessica?”

  Jessica gave an eager nod while leaning forward in her seat to listen.

  “You’re already family to us.”

  Tears stung Jessica’s eyes, and she blinked. Annie’s voice indicated pure sincerity. A knot obstructed Jessica’s throat, and she cleared it. Emotion hit her from every direction, and she considered what to say. She’d never been good at communicating her feelings; of course, her parents hadn’t, either. The Miller boys and their folks had already touched her heart in ways she hadn’t imagined possible. She had to show her appreciation.

  “Annie, I don’t know what to say.” The chirping of birds on the windowsill was the only sound while Jessica tried for the right words. “Just two weeks ago, I was nervous about coming here. Uneasy about staying by myself in the country. Worried about things that needed to be done to the house and the stress of selling it. But …”

  Before continuing, she flung her hands in the air in a helpless gesture. “You’re all so very kind to me.” Finally, she sat up straighter and lifted her chin a notch. “Thank you.”

  Annie dipped her head. “You’re more than welcome. I may be partial, but I happen to believe that we Amish excel at hospitality. And …” Her eyes lit up and she straightened in her seat. “I just had an idea. Since you’re so interested in your uncle and what he did, I’m going to show you something!”

  Chapter Eight

  Annie’s buggy bounced a little as she and Jessica rode to the Millers’. As the horse’s tail swished back and forth, Jessica breathed in the comforting scents of nature and animal.

  As she adjusted her hips on the blue velvety fabric for a more comfortable position, she contemplated Old Sam’s key and the letter he’d written Esther. The buggy was open, and the warm breeze caressed her face. Glimpsing Annie in her peripheral vision, she breathed in satisfaction and smiled a little.