Seeds of Hope

by Barbara Cameron

  “I see.” Mark straightened his shoulders. “Well, then, I guess I’ll have to consider my options.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” Sampson demanded, his eyes narrowing.

  “I’m not willing to take time off indefinitely, sir. I’ll have to think about this.”

  “Are you threatening me?”

  “I’m just going to consider my options, sir,” Mark said evenly. “You have a good day.”

  He headed for the elevator and pretended not to hear the man splutter behind him. Once he was inside and the doors were closed, he took a deep breath and rolled his shoulders, only now aware of the tension that had built up in them.

  Okay, so it wasn’t good news like he’d hoped. But knowing was better than the uncertainty he’d been living with.

  Lunch had worn off hours ago. Remembering how he’d offered to bring his grandfather a Philly cheese steak sub, he stopped at a favorite restaurant and got one to eat at an outside table. Tourists and locals passed by. He’d lived here long enough to recognize which was which. Both moved with purpose, but the tourists usually had maps and a schedule to keep of all the important landmarks—Liberty Bell, Independence Hall, Betsy Ross House, Carpenter’s Hall, Penn’s Landing.

  Sometimes he wondered why his father had settled here when he left the Amish community in Paradise. Was it because Philadelphia had represented freedom to him the way it did to so many in the country?

  Right now, he felt pretty alone in the midst of so many people. And if he were honest, he’d felt that way a number of times before the case that had sent him back to Paradise. Life here had become a treadmill of overwork and sterile relationships that hadn’t made him happy.

  In Paradise, he’d felt welcomed not only by his grandfather, but by people he saw only for a short time each summer. Even when they knew why he’d returned from his big time career in the big city, they hadn’t judged him or distanced themselves the way his boss had done.

  His sandwich sat half-eaten on the table before him as he thought of that welcome—and of a woman who’d never wavered in showing him understanding, compassion, and deep friendship. He frowned when he thought about how upset she’d been the other day when he found her walking in the rain.

  Had she been upset about a man? He suddenly found himself eager to return to Paradise and insist she tell him what was wrong. He cared about her, cared more than he’d realized.

  Maybe he wouldn’t wait until morning to start back to Paradise.

  Sixteen

  “There you are.”

  Miriam glanced up as her mudder walked out onto the front porch. “Did you need me?”

  “Nee, the kinner have been asleep for some time now.” She sank down into the rocking chair next to Miriam’s.

  Miriam watched as a car approached on the road in front of the house. When it passed, she tried not to sigh.

  “Expecting someone?”

  “Hmm?” Miriam looked at her mudder.

  “You paid a lot of attention to that car.”

  She shrugged. “Just enjoying the breeze.”

  “I don’t want you to be disappointed if he doesn’t come back.”

  “He said he would.”

  “Sometimes people can’t do what they promise.”

  Her words stung. “He said he’d be back in a day or two, and he will. He’s always done what he said he would.” Miriam paused. “Mamm, do you and Daed have a problem with Mark?” Sarah’s rocker stopped. “Why would you ask such a thing?”

  “It seemed to me you both were . . . different with him at lunch yesterday.”

  Sarah nodded and rocked, staring out at the gathering dusk. “He’s facing a lot of change right now. We don’t want to see you hurt.”

  “How can I be hurt?”

  “We know you care for him.”

  Now Miriam wished she hadn’t said anything.

  “It worries us.”

  “He’s a friend. He can’t be more. Even if he asked me to marry him—and he’s not going to do that—I would never leave my family. My community.”

  “That doesn’t mean you can’t be hurt by him.”

  The screen door creaked and Daniel walked out.

  “Daniel, Miriam and I are talking about Mark.”

  His steps halted for a moment, then he resumed walking over to the rocker next to his fraa’s. He settled into the chair, rested his head on its back, and stretched out his long legs.

  “Our dochder asked me if we had a problem with Mark.”

  “Ya?”

  “Ya,” she said firmly, as if urging him to speak.

  He lifted his head and looked at Miriam. “Your mudder worries.”

  “I know. But there’s nothing to worry about,” Miriam insisted.

  “Try telling her that,” he said simply, resting his head on the back of the chair again.

  She smiled and reached for her mudder’s hand. “You can’t protect me from hurt.”

  “You should have seen her when you started taking your first steps.”

  Sarah swatted her hand at him. “Go on now. “You know you worried, too.”

  “Daed, I told Mamm she doesn’t need to be concerned about Mark. We’re friends. And he could really use our love and support right now. His whole life has been turned upside down.”

  “That’s when God’s working the most in someone’s life.”

  Miriam stared at her dat.

  Sarah chuckled. “He doesn’t talk much, but when he does, he has something to say, doesn’t he?”

  “Ya. And I know it’s true. But this has been so hard on Mark.”

  “Maybe you need to learn you can’t protect him from hurt, eh?”

  A car pulled into the drive. “Looks like we have a visitor,” Daniel said.

  He came back! was all Miriam could think.

  Sarah stood and held out a hand to her mann. “Looks like she has a visitor.” They went into the house.

  Mark stepped onto the porch. “I didn’t mean to chase them away.”

  Miriam laughed. “I think they’re just giving us some privacy.”

  He sat in one of the chairs. “Really? I got the hint they weren’t happy with me when I came for lunch yesterday.”

  “Parents worry.”

  “What are they worried about?”

  She felt warmth rushing into her cheeks and hoped the growing dark hid her blush.

  “Miriam?”

  “They’re worried that we’re becoming more than friends.”

  “I see.”

  “I never said we were,” she rushed to say. “I wouldn’t do that.”

  “No, I’m sure you didn’t.” He leaned back in his chair.

  Silence stretched between them.

  “Do you want me to talk to them?” he asked finally.

  “Nee, I told them we’re just friends.” She searched for a way to explain. “It’s not that they don’t like you, really.”

  “But I can see their concern. A lot of marriages come out of good friendships, and I’m sure not very good marriage material right now, am I? Unemployed and Englisch.”

  “It’s the Englisch part.”

  “Ah, I see.”

  “Lavina Troyer married an Englisch man last year. Her family’s shunned her ever since.”

  “Sometimes I forget how backward things can be here.”

  “Backward?” she asked, indignant.

  He held up a hand. “Sorry. That didn’t come out right. Let’s just say particular to your church.”

  “You know, plenty of other religions don’t approve of their members marrying those of another faith.”

  “Yeah.” A car passed on the road in front of the house, radio blaring in the silence of the night. “They’re not going to tell you that you can’t see me, are they?”

  “Nee. They wouldn’t do that. So, tell me about your trip.”

  “I’d rather talk about you.”

  “Me?”

  “Yeah. I worried about you while I was gone.
You were so upset the other day and you wouldn’t tell me why. We’ve always been there for each other. You’ve certainly listened to an awful lot of what’s going on with my life right now. So why aren’t you telling me what’s bothering you?”

  She’d hoped he’d forgotten about that day. “You’re making a mountain out of a mole hill.”

  “I don’t think so. If it was nothing, then there’s no reason why you can’t just tell me and be done with it.”

  “You’re relentless, you know that?”

  “I do,” he said with a grin.

  “And you’re proud of it?”

  He leaned over to stare at her. “It makes me a good attorney. And a good friend.”

  There had to be some way to get him off her back. She frowned and thought hard. And then it came to her.

  “You were right. The other day you asked me if I was upset about a man. I was. I am.”

  “I knew it!” He leaned back and set the chair rocking with his foot. “So who is this turkey who upset you? Tell me and I’ll go have a word with him.”

  The situation was so absurd, she burst out laughing. “Don’t be ridiculous!”

  “I’m not being ridiculous. I don’t like some guy making you upset.”

  “Ya, well, it happens.”

  He stopped rocking and turned to her again, looking serious. “You were crying. This guy means something to you.”

  “Yeah. And I’m not talking to you about him. Now let’s change the subject. How was your trip?”

  So she was dating.

  Mark ran a hand through his newly shorn hair. Why was he surprised? She’d always been pretty, in a quiet way, and so intelligent. Every summer he’d come back here, he’d wondered why she didn’t seem to have a boyfriend. Sure, Amish couples kept things quiet, but he thought he’d have known.

  A memory came to him. Earlier this summer, he’d asked her if she was seeing anyone. She’d said no. So that meant she either wasn’t telling the truth or she’d just recently started seeing him.

  Hmm.

  He found himself wondering who she was seeing. It would be someone she’d known for years, grown up with, worshipped alongside in church, worked on community events with.

  Not like the relationships most Englisch couples had before they married.

  Married. If she were seeing someone, that might mean she was getting married. Weddings began as soon as harvest was over.

  “Are you getting married?” he blurted out.

  “What? Nee!”

  “Is that why you were upset? Because he doesn’t want to get married?”

  She threw up her hands. “If you’re going to keep this up, I’m going inside.”

  “All right, all right.” He subsided.

  “I appreciate you caring,” she said, “but I would rather talk about your trip.”

  “I wouldn’t. It didn’t go well. Bloodsucker,” he muttered.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Mosquito just got me.”

  “Come on, let’s go inside. Have you eaten?”

  “I had lunch before I got on the road.”

  She stood. “Then you haven’t had supper. John ate with us earlier. Kumm.”

  “It’s getting late.”

  “It can’t be more than seven.”

  Mark touched the dial on his watch. “Seven-fifteen. Almost bedtime in these parts.”

  “I think I can manage to stay awake while I serve you some leftovers.”

  He grabbed her hand. “You’re sure your parents will be okay with this?”

  “I’m schur.”

  They went inside, and Sarah and Daniel glanced up from the books they were reading in the living room and nodded.

  “Have a seat,” Miriam said as she went to the refrigerator. “How does a cold supper sound?”

  “Wonderful. Don’t fuss. You’ve probably had a long day.” He noted row upon row of jams, jellies, and preserves on the kitchen counter near him.

  “They’re all long during harvest time. But we’ll be grateful this winter.”

  He’d only been to Paradise a few times in winter. He and his parents had come for Christmas, but the visits had been short and, as he remembered, a bit uncomfortable. His father really didn’t enjoy returning to the community, but he hadn’t stood in the way of Mark getting to know his Amish grandparents.

  “You’re being quiet,” Miriam said, breaking into his thoughts.

  “Sorry, I’m probably not good company.” He scratched the mosquito bite on his arm.

  She set a plate with a huge red tomato stuffed with chicken salad before him, then went to a cupboard, pulled out a first aid kit, and brought it to the table. “Here,” she said, producing a tube of ointment. “Put this on that mosquito bite.”

  “Thanks.” He unscrewed the top and squeezed some of the ointment on the bite.

  “Lemonade or iced tea?”

  “Lemonade.”

  She poured two glasses and joined him at the table. “So tell me about your trip.”

  Mark stared at the mosquito bite as he remembered his encounter with his boss. “Bloodsucker,” he said again. “That’s what my boss is.”

  “That’s not a nice way to talk about him.”

  “People don’t tend to say nice things about attorneys. Even other attorneys. Anyway, he sure was happy to know me when I was a top producer in the firm.”

  “Producer?”

  “Made the most money. But now he says they’re not ready to have me come back.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry.” She traced the condensation on her glass of lemonade.

  “He didn’t like it when I said I was going to have to look into my options.” He stabbed his fork at the ripe tomato and it oozed red juice on the plate.

  “What does that mean?”

  “That’s what he asked me.” Mark grinned at the memory and poked at the tomato some more before trying the chicken salad. “This is good.”

  “Nee, really, what does looking into your options mean?”

  “Everything from threatening to sue to looking for another job.” He hadn’t felt that hungry, but now that he’d started eating, he discovered he was ravenous.

  “You don’t have to look for another job. You have the farm here.”

  “I’ll keep helping here until I find another job.” When she was silent, he looked up from his plate. “What? You know this isn’t permanent. We’ve talked about it.”

  She nodded.

  He felt like a heel every time the subject came up. “Thanks for supper. It was good.”

  “It’s nice to have something cold when it’s been so hot. We have pie.”

  “That’s quite an incentive to stay,” he quipped, but she didn’t smile. “I’d love some.”

  “You didn’t ask what kind.” She got up and took his empty plate to the sink.

  “It’s pie. And either you or your mother made it. That’s all I need to know.” He smiled with satisfaction when she set a big slice of fresh strawberry icebox pie before him.

  The day was looking up.

  “It really bothers me that I worked so hard, made the firm so much money, and I get treated this way.”

  “I’m sorry he hurt you.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m a big boy. It’s time to stop feeling sorry for myself and get proactive. Take some kind of action.” He finished the pie and sat back, satisfied. “I feel a little better. I didn’t realize I was hungry until I started eating.”

  “Sometimes food helps.”

  “And pie.”

  She managed a smile. “I’ll give you a piece to take home. Don’t let John try to talk you into giving it to him. He had two pieces when he ate with us.”

  “John does love your pies.”

  Miriam cut a slice and put it in a plastic container. “I enjoy taking him food. He’s always so appreciative.” She sealed the edges on the container, looking thoughtful. “John’s been like a grandfather to me since my mamm’s dat died. I only had Grossdaadi since my dat lost his o
wn dat when he was a little boy.”

  That was one thing they’d had in common growing up. Mark had only one grandfather as well. Maybe that was why he’d been so interested in spending time with him on the farm. Well, that and it was so different from his city life. What boy didn’t love the adventure, the freedom, of spending the summer on a farm instead of the hot, crowded confines of the city and all its restrictions?

  Sure, there were a lot of rules here on a farm in an Amish community. But most of them didn’t apply to him since he wasn’t Amish.

  It was rather ironic that he’d gone into a career that dealt with people being accused of breaking rules, sometimes the biggest rule of all—thou shalt not kill.

  Miriam walked with him to the door. Her parents looked up from their books and said good night.

  “I hope things look a little brighter in the morning,” she said when they stepped out onto the porch.

  “My mother used to always think things would be better in the morning,” he said, remembering. “Is that a woman thing?”

  She laughed. “I don’t know.” Her brow furrowed. “It fits with what you went through today, though, don’t you think?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “‘For his anger endureth but a moment; in his favor is life: weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning.’”

  Her words stayed with him long into the night, when he lay in his narrow bed in the plain bedroom of his grandfather’s farm house. And wondered how he’d feel when he woke in the morning.

  Seventeen

  Joy. Pure joy. Miriam woke and as she lay there watching thin fingers of dawn light filter into the room she smiled.

  Mark was back.

  Schur, he’d said he’d be back and he’d never promised something and not done it. But she’d been worried. What if his boss had welcomed him back? Of course he’d have wanted to stay. And she wouldn’t have blamed him.

  She hated that the man had hurt Mark, but oh, how happy she was that Mark would be here for a while longer. She hugged her pillow and sighed.

  Then she thought about Mark. How was he feeling this morning? Before he’d left last night she’d told him she hoped he’d feel better the next day.

  Now, as she felt joy, she remembered the psalm she’d quoted to him.