Lancaster
Sara took a seat next to Brad on the living-room couch in the cozy three-bedroom parsonage their church provided for the ministerial family. “After church today, I heard a lot of positive comments about your sermon on prayer.” She clasped Brad’s hand and gave his fingers a tender squeeze. “I can tell the congregation is pleased that they hired you as their pastor.”
“I hope so, but they’re equally glad you’re here.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “And I, my sweet wife, wouldn’t know what to do without you. Besides the fact that I love you very much, you’re an amazing asset to my ministry. In the short time we’ve been at the church, you’ve started teaching one of the kids’ Sunday school classes—not to mention keeping the table in the entrance foyer well supplied with beautiful bouquets from your shop.”
“I am more than happy to do both.” Sara thought back to the way things were when she and Brad first started dating. She’d pretended to be a Christian so he wouldn’t stop seeing her, but the ruse had backfired in her face when he’d found out the truth. Then after her stepfather died, she’d found the Lord, and everything in her life changed for the better. Marrying Brad was the best decision Sara had ever made—that and going to meet her grandparents for the first time after Mama died.
Sara was thankful Brad didn’t object to her keeping the flower shop in Strasburg. It was a short commute for her five days a week. Sara enjoyed her work, and sometimes being able to minister to those who came into the shop was an added bonus.
Brad yawned, cupping a hand over his mouth. “Sorry, hon. Guess I’m more tired than I thought.”
“It’s fine. Why don’t you take a nap while I drive over to see my grandparents?”
“No, that’s okay. It’s been a while, and I’d like to go with you to see how Willis is doing—Mary Ruth too.” He rose from the couch. “Caring for Willis and helping him deal with his stroke has been hard on her.”
“You’re right, and my dear, sweet grandma needs all the support she can get.” Sara got up and started for the kitchen. “Think I’ll take some of Grandpa’s favorite cookies with us.”
“I thought all cookies were his favorites.” Brad chuckled. “Willis Lapp is a man with a definite sweet tooth.”
Sara smiled. She couldn’t deny it. During the months she’d lived with her grandparents, she’d witnessed Grandpa enjoying his wife’s homemade goodies many times. Of course, Sara thought as she entered the kitchen, I ate my fair share of Grandma’s delicious desserts too. She grabbed a plastic container and filled it with peanut butter cookies. I’m thankful Brad’s first church is close enough that we can visit Grandma and Grandpa as often as possible.
Strasburg
“Look who’s here, Willis.” Grandma pointed as Brad’s van pulled into the yard.
Lenore smiled. It did her heart good to see Grandpa’s face light up when Sara and Brad climbed out and walked toward the house.
He looked at Grandma and gave her arm a nudge with his good hand. “Rhoda’s dochder.”
“Jah, Willis.” She bobbed her head. “Rhoda’s daughter, Sara, has come to see us, and her husband came along too.”
Poor Grandpa, Lenore thought. Since the stroke, his memory isn’t as sharp as it used to be, and Grandma sometimes has to remind him of things and give detailed explanations.
When Sara stepped onto the porch, she gave Grandma a hug, then leaned down and kissed Grandpa’s cheek. “It’s good to see you, Grandpa. How are you feeling today?”
“I be better if not in wheelchair.”
Although Grandpa’s words weren’t spoken with clarity, Lenore understood what he’d said. Apparently Sara did too, for she knelt down in front of Grandpa’s chair and took hold of his paralyzed hand. “Just keep doing what the physical therapist says, and in time you’ll get better.”
Tears welled in Grandpa’s eyes as he slowly nodded.
“Lots of prayers are being said on your behalf.” Brad shook Grandpa’s right hand. “Whatever you do, don’t give up. Just keep trying.”
“That’s what we all keep telling him,” Lenore’s dad spoke up. “Many people with partial paralysis get better after a stroke.”
And some don’t. Lenore kept her negative thoughts to herself. She would never deliberately dampen Grandpa’s spirits or take away his hope of getting better. I need to keep praying for his healing, she reminded herself. If it’s God’s will, and Grandpa keeps a positive attitude, maybe he will get out of that wheelchair and walk again.
Chapter 4
Would you like to take a walk with me?” Lenore asked Sara after everyone else had gone inside Grandpa and Grandma’s house.
Sara nodded. “That sounds nice. Should we walk out back near the pond?”
“Actually, I was thinking we could go out to the barn.”
Sara tipped her head. “Why the barn?”
“There’s something there I want to talk to you about.”
“Oh, okay.” Sara rose from her chair and the two cousins headed toward the barn.
When they opened the double doors and stepped inside, three cats darted in front of them, chasing each other. Lenore groaned as the dry taste of chaff from the straw being stirred up touched her lips.
Sara flicked a few pieces of straw off her blouse. “Were the cats really chasing each other, I wonder, or could they have been after a mouse?”
“Who knows? It could have been either, I suppose.” The floorboards creaked as Lenore motioned for Sara to take a seat on a bale of straw. “When I was in here the other day, I discovered an old jar filled with prayers, scriptures, and sayings.” She pointed to a shelf on the wall opposite them. “Michelle showed up while I was holding the jar, and she said both of you had found it too.”
“Yes, we did. And each of us was helped by some of the verses and prayers.”
“Who do you think wrote the notes?”
Sara shrugged. “I have no idea. Michelle thinks Grandma may have written them.”
“I thought of that too.” Lenore flicked a piece of prickly straw off her dress. “But neither of you have asked her about them?”
“No.” Sara shifted on the bale. “If it was Grandma who wrote the notes, she might be embarrassed if we were to ask about the jars. Many of the notes are very personal.”
Lenore pursed her lips. “I’m the curious type, and I’d really like to know who the author was. Do you think I dare ask her?”
“Ask who what?”
Lenore jumped at the sound of Grandma’s voice. “You startled me, Grandma. I didn’t hear you come in.”
“That’s probably because you two were deep in conversation.” Grandma took a seat on a wooden stool across from them. “Do you mind answering my question about whether you dare ask someone something?”
Lenore looked at her cousin, hoping she would say something, but Sara just sat with a placid expression. Oh, great. How am I supposed to respond?
“Is it a secret? Something you don’t want me to know about?” Grandma leaned to one side with her head slightly tipped.
Lenore felt like a mouse caught in a trap. She could either tell her grandmother the truth or make something up, but that would be a lie. She glanced at Sara again, and when she gave her a nod, Lenore decided to proceed.
“I’ll show you exactly what we were talking about.” Lenore rose from her seat and went to get the ladder. After she took down the old jar, she handed it to her grandmother.
Grandma’s brows furrowed as she studied the jar with a quizzical expression. “What is inside this antique-looking canning jar?”
Lenore explained about the slips of paper with prayers, scriptures, and written notes. “There’s another one in your basement.”
“Michelle was the first person to find them,” Sara interjected. “When I came to live here, I found both of the jars too.”
Grandma’s eyebrows rose, and she blinked a couple of times. “I—I had no idea this was here or that one was also in my basement.”
; “So you’re not the person who wrote the notes?” Lenore questioned.
Grandma shook her head. “May I please look at one of the notes?”
“Of course.”
Lenore held her breath as Grandma reached inside and pulled out a slip of paper. She stared at it several seconds, then slapped one hand against her flushed face. “Oh Sara, your mother wrote this note. I would recognize her handwriting anywhere.”
“What?” Sara’s brows pulled inward. “Are you sure about that, Grandma? The notes are all printed, not written in cursive. How can you tell Mama wrote them?”
“I recognize her style of printing.” Grandma pointed to the note in her hand. “See here, she wrote in bold block letters. I’m surprised you didn’t recognize it too.”
Sara shook her head vigorously. “I never saw anything my mother printed. Everything she wrote was always in cursive.”
Tears sprang to Grandma’s eyes and dribbled down her wrinkled cheeks. “Do you know what this means, girls?”
Lenore and Sara’s heads moved slowly from side to side.
“It means she may have mentioned something about the identity of your father in one of her notes.”
“I don’t think so. I’ve read all the notes in both jars and nothing was mentioned about my father, or even gave me a hint that it was Mama who’d written the notes.” Sara swiped at the tears that had dribbled onto her reddened cheeks. “I doubt I’ll ever know who my real father is, and I need to accept that fact. But knowing what I do about my mother’s past, I understand now what many of those scriptures and notes were about. Mama was looking for hope when she thought there was none. She also sought forgiveness for the things she had done to hurt others.”
“Perhaps my Rhoda was searching for healing too.” Grandma sighed. “Healing for her wounded soul.”
Lenore tried to imagine what it must have been like for her aunt when she left home all those years ago, knowing she was expecting a baby and feeling like she couldn’t tell her parents. She stared down at the stubble of straw beneath her feet. If I had been in Aunt Rhoda’s place, would I have run away from my family and never contacted them again? She curled her fingers into her palms. I think not. No matter how humiliating it might have been to admit the truth, I would have told Mom and Dad and sought their forgiveness. And I would not have run away and never contacted my family again. They mean too much to me.
“Now that I know about this, I’d like to take the jar into the house and show Willis.” Grandma stepped down from the stool. “He has the right to know what our daughter has written here too.”
Sara took a seat on the couch in her grandparents’ living room, ready to listen and watch as Grandma read some of the prayer-jar notes to Lenore’s parents and Grandpa, explaining that they’d been written by Sara’s mother. Grandma read one note that said: “If I could turn back the hands of time and do things differently, I surely would. I’ve done so many things I now regret.”
Grandpa moaned, and he lowered his chin to his chest but said nothing. Sara could only imagine what he must be thinking. He probably wondered if he and Grandma had done something wrong when they raised their wayward daughter.
Brad sat beside Sara, holding her hand. She was ever so thankful for his love and support. Her throat clogged as she thought about all the times she had read the scriptures, prayers, and personal notes she’d found in the jars, never suspecting her mother had written them.
Sara closed her eyes, trying to hold back tears of frustration. Oh Mama, why couldn’t you have mentioned in your notes who my biological father was? Were you trying to protect his identity for a reason? Did your parents disapprove of him? Or could he have been a married man, and you were ashamed to admit it?
So many questions ran through her mind as she tried to come to grips with everything. Sara’s life hadn’t been the same since, as an adult, she’d first learned she had grandparents, and she felt grateful for the opportunity she’d been given to get to know them. Because Sara had come here to Lancaster County, she’d met Brad, her soul mate. Even if she never learned who her father was, Sara’s life would be filled with many blessings and the pleasant memories she’d made here in Amish country. She hoped things would work out at the church her husband had been called to pastor so they would never have to move out of the area. Sara couldn’t imagine life without Grandma and Grandpa, as well as her other family members, including Lenore, who was not only a cousin but also a good friend.
Chapter 5
Paradise, Pennsylvania
As soon as Lenore entered her parents’ general store late Monday afternoon, she knew something had changed. The shelves near the front door, normally filled with stationery and greeting cards, now housed a variety of books—most about the Amish way of life.
This is so strange. She pulled one off the shelf and read the back cover. “What is the reason Plain people live the way they do? Why would anyone shun the modern way of life? You will find answers to these questions and more within the pages of this book.”
Lenore groaned. Since when did Mom and Dad begin selling books in their store, much less this type that will no doubt cater to the tourists who come in?
From behind the counter, her mother greeted her with a smile. “It’s good to see you, Lenore. How’s your grandpa doing today?”
“Same as usual. I try to do some things that will bring a little joy into his life, like reading him a story or telling him some funny things that happened during my day, but it doesn’t seem to help his mood much.”
“Sorry to hear that. Maybe in time things will get better.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“So what brings you by the store this afternoon?” Mom asked.
“I came to get a few things for Grandma.” Lenore motioned to the shelf full of books. “Since when did you start selling books?”
“We got them in last week. Your daed thought it was a good idea, especially since so many tourists have been visiting the store lately, asking questions about us Amish, as well as other Plain communities.” Mom smiled. “Now we can just point them to the books and won’t have to answer so many inquiries.”
Lenore’s toes curled inside her black leather shoes. “I wish folks weren’t so curious about us.”
“It’s understandable, since we dress differently and live a simple lifestyle compared to most English people.”
“I hope whoever wrote those books knows what they’re talking about. It wouldn’t be good to be giving out misinformation.”
Mom clicked her fingernails against the countertop. “No need to worry, Lenore. Your daed looked over all the books and only put out the ones he felt were true.” She looked in the direction of the bookshelf again. “In case you didn’t notice, there are also plenty of bicher for our Amish patrons as well.”
“What kind of books?”
“We have copies of our church hymnals, some Bibles, devotionals, and the directory for our community. We will also be getting in some teachers’ resources soon, as well as some quality books for children.”
Lenore was about to respond when a tall man with dark brown hair entered the store. He was the same man she’d seen at church, only today he wasn’t holding his daughter. As he moved toward the counter, she stood with lips slightly parted, eager to know more about the newcomer to their community.
“Good afternoon.” He glanced briefly at Lenore, then turned to face her mother. “I was wondering if you carry any gluten-free products here.”
“As a matter of fact, we do.” Lenore’s mother pointed toward the back of the store. “You’ll find a whole section with gluten-free items.” She glanced at Lenore. “Would you please show him where they are located?”
Lenore pursed her lips. Why’s Mom asking me to do this? How come she doesn’t show him herself?
When Lenore hesitated, he moved away from the counter. “It’s all right. I’m sure I can locate them.”
“I don’t mind showing you,” Lenore was quick to say. Before h
e could respond, she began walking in that direction. When she reached the gluten-free section, she turned to him and said, “I saw you at church yesterday, and my grandma spoke to you after the service let out. She mentioned that you’re new to our area.”
He nodded. “I used to live in Kentucky, but after losing my fraa, I decided it would be good for me and my dochder to move here for a new start.”
“How old is she?”
“She’s six months.” He tapped the heel of his left shoe against the wooden floor. “It’s hard to accept the idea that Cindy will never know her mudder.”
Lenore resisted the urge to give his arm a gentle pat. Instead, she said, “I’m sorry for your loss.” The grief he felt was evident in the drooping of his shoulders and his monotone voice.
“Thank you.” He lowered his gaze. “It’s been hard trying to imagine how my little girl’s future will be without her mother to guide her. And I … Well, I’m doing some better now, but when Esther died during childbirth, I felt as if my life ended too.”
Lenore swallowed hard. She could almost feel this poor man’s pain. Thinking a change of conversation might help, she held out her hand. “My name is Lenore Lapp. My parents own this store, and the woman at the front counter is my mamm.”
He shook her hand. “I’m Jesse Smucker.”
Lenore wasn’t about to admit that Grandma had told her his name. There was no point in Jesse knowing that they had talked about him.
His gaze met hers. “I saw you after church—with several kinner gathered around you. Figured you were too young for them all to be yours.”
She gave a small laugh. “No, I’m not married. I am a schoolteacher, and some of the children I was visiting with will be in my class when school starts in August.” She smiled. “That’s why they were so eager to talk to me.”
“Ah, I see.”
“Where is your baby today?” Lenore asked.
The Healing Jar Page 3