When Hope Blossoms

by Kim Vogel Sawyer

  She nodded, her eyes aglow, and he knew she understood the deeper emotions beneath his simple statement. But did she fully understand everything she’d given him? Tim wanted her to know. He owed her a debt of gratitude, and he didn’t want to wait one more second before thanking her.

  Shifting to face his parents, he said, “Mom, Dad, would it be all right if I spoke with Amy . . . with Mrs. Knackstedt . . . alone for a few minutes?”

  Mom and Dad exchanged a quick look, and Dad answered. “Of course, son. Your mother and me will entertain the children. You and Mrs. Knackstedt feel free to talk.”

  Amy’s cheeks flooded with pink, but when Tim gestured to the front door, she didn’t hesitate to follow him outside. He led her to the edge of the porch. A full moon hung high in the sky, bathing the yard in a soft glow. “It’s a beautiful night. Would you like to take a short walk?” She flicked a glance over her shoulder, and he added, “Just to the barn and back. The kids’ll be fine with my folks.” How odd to speak of his parents so casually, as if they’d never been absent. Yet it felt good. Right.

  “Okay.”

  Together, they stepped off the porch, and even though the moon clearly marked the pathway, he curled his fingers lightly around her elbow. She made no effort to pull away. As they moved slowly across the gravel driveway toward the barn, Tim spoke softly, unwilling to disturb the beauty of this Kansas night.

  “Amy, I confess, when you and your kids first moved here, I resented you. I didn’t want you here.” Her puzzled gaze flicked to his face, and he gave a sober nod. “You served as an unpleasant reminder of the life I tried to escape. Every time I looked at your mesh cap and caped dress, I remembered my mother. Every time I looked at Parker, I remembered my son.” He swallowed, his steps slowing. “It hurt me. I didn’t want to remember.”

  She stopped and turned to face him, the moonlight glimmering on her cap and highlighting her heart-shaped face. “We never intended to bring you pain.”

  The apology in her voice pierced him. “No, no, let me finish. Although a part of me resented you, a part of me—the part I didn’t want to acknowledge—welcomed you. Having you and the other Mennonites here in Weaverly forced me to reopen those pages of my life. And in doing so, reawakened the faith I’d tried to bury.”

  Tears filled her eyes, glittering like diamonds under the moon’s soft glow. She covered her quivering lips with her fingers. “That’s exactly what the children and I have prayed—that you would rediscover your faith. God is so good to answer.”

  Warmth flooded Tim’s frame. She’d done even more than he’d imagined. Thinking of her and Bekah, Parker, and little Adri lifting him in prayer even after he’d been resentful and sometimes unkind raised another wave of gratitude. He swallowed the lump that filled his throat. “God is very good to answer. And you’re very good to ask Him.”

  A shy smile curved her lips, and she ducked her head. “Perhaps that’s why God brought the Mennonites to Weaverly. It was His way of reaching you.”

  Tim took her elbow again, and they set their feet in motion. Amazing how nicely their strides matched. They ambled slowly toward the barn, relaxed and at ease with each other. “Maybe. But He’d sent Mennonites before—a long time ago.”

  “Oh?” Her face held interest.

  He nodded. “A group of them came to pick apples.” Remembering how Charlie and the other boy had frolicked like a pair of puppies in the orchard made him smile. “There was a boy, kind of like Charlie—with special needs, you know?—and the boy’s dad and I had a good talk. I guess you could say we commiserated with each other, wanting to ‘fix’ our boys but knowing we couldn’t. And we agreed when you have a child who needs you especially much, you make sure you’re there for them. For the long haul. It was good to talk to the man. To know somebody understood how it felt to raise a boy like Charlie.”

  Amy’s smile grew bigger. “Often I’ve wished I could talk to others who understand the uniqueness of raising a special-needs child. Do the Mennonites who came live nearby? Perhaps I could find a way to visit with that boy’s family.”

  They’d reached the barn, so Tim paused and leaned against the frame. Bits of chipping paint fell away as his shoulder pressed the worn wood. “I wish I could connect you with them. I know they were from Kansas, but I can’t remember which town. I don’t remember their names, either, except that the boy’s name was kind of strange.” He shrugged, dislodging more crisp white paint chips. Maybe he’d round up the Mennonite men and give her barn a good whitewash before winter fell. “Bumper. Or Bugger. Something like that.”

  She gasped. “Budger?”

  Tim pushed away from the barn. “That’s it. Budger.” Amy’s face had drained of color. Tim caught her by the shoulders. “What’s wrong?”

  Her body quivered beneath his grasp. “Budger . . . that was Gabe’s—my husband’s—special name for Parker. No one but Gabe called him that. So the orchard they visited was yours . . .” Realization dawned across her white face, the tremble increasing in intensity. “And you . . . you met Gabe . . . and he told you . . .” Her hands whipped upward, her fingers curling around his wrists as if she needed his support to keep herself upright. She stared at him, wide-eyed and almost desperate. “He told you he thought it was important to be there for Parker? For . . . forever?”

  “Yes, if the man I spoke to was your husband, that’s exactly what he said.”

  A laugh trickled from Amy’s throat. Tim might have thought it maniacal, given her present state, had it not been for the note of joy beneath. She released his wrists and stepped away from his hands, turning her face skyward. “Thank You, Father. Thank You.” She spun to face him again, her hands reaching. He automatically reached back, and she held tight while jabbering a story about her husband’s death initially being ruled accidental and then changed to a possible suicide attempt.

  She finished, “The insurance agency needs some sort of verification that Gabe didn’t choose to end his own life. It could very well be that your conversation with him, in which he indicated a desire to be there for Parker, would be helpful. Would you be willing to contact the agent and share with him what you just told me?”

  “Of course I will.” Tim pulled one hand free but linked his fingers through hers with the other. He led her toward the house, the fit of her small hand within his comfortable, natural. “First thing tomorrow, I’ll give the man a call.” Just short of the porch, Tim stopped, drawing Amy to a halt with him. “If my word isn’t enough to convince them, what will happen?”

  “I’ll certainly have to sell the house and my sewing machines to repay the money I was given.” Worry briefly creased her brow, but then a smile chased the lines away. “But if I’m forced to do so, I will accept it as God’s will. He’s met my needs in the past. I have no reason to believe He’ll neglect me now.”

  Tim marveled at her strong faith despite all she’d lost. “You humble me, Amy. And inspire me.”

  She drew in a slow breath, her expression hesitant. “Tim, may I ask you a question?”

  “Anything.”

  “Was . . . was Julia a believer in Jesus?”

  Tim nodded. Julia’s faith had been unfaltering. “She led Charlie to the Lord when he was very young. Sometimes I think Charlie’s faith was even stronger than Julia’s. With his simplistic way of viewing the world, he was incapable of seeing evil.” In some ways, Charlie had been fortunate.

  Tears glittered in the corners of Amy’s eyes. She squeezed his hand. “Then you’ll see them again someday, just as I’ll see Gabe. And in Heaven, Charlie is whole, just as my son will one day be fully restored to wholeness.”

  Something warm and powerful gripped Tim’s heart. In his imaginings, although he loved Charlie unconditionally, he always viewed his son as disabled. Amy’s words transformed the images, giving him a glimpse of the marvel of eternal glory. A lump filled his throat. “Thank you, Amy.”

  They stood for long moments, their gazes locked, and Tim felt as though their hearts beat
in sync. He hadn’t experienced such oneness with another human being since he’d lost Julia. The realization left him breathless and yet completely at peace at the same time.

  Finally she sighed, tipping her head toward the house. “I suppose we should go in. They’re probably wondering what happened to us.”

  Tim wasn’t ready to abandon their silent communion, but he nodded. He released her hand and followed her inside. They found his parents and the children seated around the kitchen table, sipping tea and playing a game of dominoes. Adri sat in Dad’s lap, instructing him on what to play next, and they all looked as if they’d known one another for years rather than minutes.

  Amy paused in the kitchen doorway, flicking a warm smile over her shoulder at Tim. He returned it, then shifted his gaze to the group at the table. His mother lifted her face and caught his eye. A secretive smile played on her lips, and Tim’s cheeks blazed hot. He jerked his gaze elsewhere, only to collide with Amy’s profile.

  He examined the soft turn of her jaw, the dark hair smoothed neatly beneath her prayer covering, and her delicate ear framed by the ribbon falling from her cap. His mother had correctly recognized his deep affection for this woman. But if Tim were to act on the feeling, he would have to make some serious changes in his life. Something pinched his chest. After years of living in the outside world, was he willing to be fully Mennonite again?

  36

  Amy held the telephone receiver tight to her ear, trying to hear the agent’s voice over the sound of her pounding heartbeat.

  Mr. Corey’s voice held a note of apology. “It seems the elevator owner was negligent in allowing your husband to perform a duty that rightly belonged to an elevator employee. By convincing us the fall was intentional rather than accidental, the state would reverse its citations and fines. The investigation is officially closed. You’ll receive a full disclosure of our findings in the mail, but I also wanted to tell you personally.”

  The rush of relief was so strong, her bones turned to rubber. Amy inched sideways and sank into a kitchen chair. “I appreciate your call, Mr. Corey.”

  “Please accept our condolences once again on your loss.”

  She disconnected the call, then remained in the chair, waiting for her pulse to return to normal. Songs of praise erupted in her heart. Gabe hadn’t chosen to leave her and the children. And they would be able to keep their home. She couldn’t wait to tell Bekah when school was out.

  She pushed up from the chair. Although pieces of an unfinished quilt lay caught in the needle of her sewing machine, she decided to set aside the project and prepare a celebratory dinner. The past two weeks had been fraught with tension as they awaited final word from the insurance agency. Not knowing whether they’d have to leave their new town and school, where the children had settled in beautifully and made friends, and return to Arborville had kept Amy awake at night. She’d told God repeatedly she would go wherever He led, and she meant it, but knowing they could stay right here in their place of fresh beginnings brought a rush of joy.

  “Thank You, Father,” she praised aloud.

  Bustling to the pantry, she removed the items needed for a pan of chicken-and-cheese lasagna, one of the children’s favorite meals. She’d bake bread, too, and toss a salad. Then for dessert, they’d have brownie sundaes. She had everything she needed, except ice cream, and there was time to drive to Weaverly’s little grocery store before the bus brought the children home. Envisioning the children’s smiles when they found so many treats waiting, her heart gave a happy skip.

  And I should invite Tim to join us.

  The thought brought her busy hands to a halt midtask. Beneath the modesty cape of her dress, her heart fluttered. What a surprise she’d received last Sunday when Tim had entered the building where the Mennonites gathered for worship. Although attired in pleated brown trousers and a store-bought shirt rather than a Mennonite black suit, he’d sat among the men, joined in the hymns, and followed along in his Bible as if he’d always attended. Then he’d accepted Margaret Gerber’s invitation to join the fellowship for the meal after the service. Although he and Amy hadn’t exchanged any words, she’d been keenly aware of his presence. Of the way he fit. And she’d realized anew just how much she desired him to be a permanent part of her world.

  Amy dropped to her knees beside a kitchen chair and rested her linked hands on the vinyl seat. “Dear Lord, I asked You to guard my heart against the growing affection I’ve felt toward Tim. I didn’t want to love a man who didn’t live to honor You. But he seems to have changed, Father. I know You’ve used the children and me to ignite the fire of faith in Tim’s soul again, but is our relationship meant to be more than friends? Speak to me, Lord, so I know how to proceed. I don’t want to step outside of Your will for me, but . . . I confess to You . . . I love him.”

  She spent several minutes in prayer, sharing her deepest feelings with the One who already knew them intimately. She finished, “Thank You for the pathways You open to us. Please make clear where I am to walk concerning the children’s and my feelings for Tim. Amen.” Having given her concerns to her heavenly Father, she rose, ready to complete preparations for the special dinner. But before she returned to the lasagna ingredients, she moved to the telephone and dialed a number she knew by memory. On the second ring, he answered, and she blurted, “Tim, would you like to join the children and me for dinner this evening?”

  “Mmm, it smells good in here,” Bekah called as she charged through the front door, Parker and Adri on her heels. Her siblings dropped their backpacks and raced back outside, probably heading to the barn to visit the kittens Mr. Roper had brought over in a wicker basket a week ago. The kittens—one black with a white bib and paws and one yellow-and-white striped—were cute, but they were really more Parker and Adri’s kittens than hers. They could play with them without her. She tossed her backpack on top of theirs and headed for the kitchen.

  Mom stood at the counter, chopping tomatoes. She greeted Bekah with a broad smile. “Hello, honey. Did you have a good day?”

  Bekah leaned against the counter, peeking into the big bowl that contained salad makings. Her tummy rumbled. She plucked out a piece of cucumber, stuck it in her mouth, and spoke around it. “Uh-huh. My art teacher said I have a real knack for painting. She encouraged me to take the advanced art class when I’m in high school.” She hoped she’d be able to go to the Weaverly high school. Every night since the insurance man had visited their house, she’d prayed they’d get to stay here. Even though she still missed Grandpa and her Arborville friends, she didn’t want to go back. Mom and the kids were happy here. And to Bekah, Weaverly had become home. “Can I maybe buy some paints, brushes, and canvasses to practice here at home?”

  “I think we could probably fit that into our budget,” Mom said. She bobbed her chin toward the table, where their best linen cloth covered the Formica top. “Would you set the table for me? Five plates. Mr. Roper is joining us.”

  Something in Mom’s voice made Bekah pause. The way she’d said “Mr. Roper” sounded different. Softer. A funny tingle tiptoed up Bekah’s spine. “He is?”

  Mom paused for a moment, giving Bekah a serious look. “Is that all right with you?”

  Bekah held her breath. If her suspicions were true, she and her brother and sister might get more than just a new house to live in. They might get a new dad. Her thoughts tripped through the past weeks and all the kind things Mr. Roper had done for them. She liked him. He was nice. Especially to Parker, who really needed a dad. Bekah blew out the breath she’d been holding. She touched Mom’s arm. “It’s fine with me, Mom.”

  The smile that broke across Mom’s face made Bekah’s nose sting. She reached for the cabinet door. “I’ll set the table. And I’ll put Mr. Roper’s plate next to yours.”

  “That was delicious, Amy.” Tim leaned back and patted his stomach. “The best lasagna I’ve ever had.”

  Bekah flicked a quick glance at her mother, a sly smile creasing her cheeks. “Mom’s an a
wesome cook. The best ever.”

  “Bekah, it isn’t polite to brag.” Amy rose and began clearing their dishes.

  Tim, watching color flood Amy’s cheeks, stifled a chuckle. He supposed it would be awkward, having your teenage daughter play matchmaker. Bekah’d been dropping hints ever since he arrived for dinner, praising Amy’s cooking and housekeeping abilities. The girl didn’t realize he’d already fallen for Amy—he didn’t need any encouragement to see her as desirable. But it made him happy to know he’d have Bekah’s approval when he finally got up his nerve to ask to court Amy Knackstedt.

  Adri wriggled in her chair, tomato sauce smeared across her endearing face. “Momma made brownies for dessert. So lick your fork, Mr. Roper!”

  Tim obliged the little girl, grinning when she giggled and snatched up her fork, too. Amy carried a pan of aromatic brownies to the table, and Bekah fetched a tub of ice cream from the freezer. Tim visited with the two younger children while their mother and sister dished up large servings of the dessert. Conversation fell away as they indulged in the treat. Although the brownies were delicious, their flavor couldn’t top the sweet taste of belonging that fully encompassed him while he sat at their kitchen table, sharing the meal, talking, laughing. He sent surreptitious glances around the table while he ate, wondering how each of them would react if he suddenly revealed his longing to be a part of their family circle.

  When they finished eating, Amy sent the children upstairs to complete their homework. Both Parker and Adri clattered up the stairs, their giggles ringing, but Bekah hesitated beside the stairway opening. “Do you want my help with dishes, Mom?”

  Tim rose. “I’ll help her tonight, Bekah. It’s the least I can do after being fed such a wonderful meal. You go on.” He winked, and he could have sworn she winked in reply before slipping around the corner. He turned and found Amy fixing him with a serious look. His pulse stammered. “Is everything all right?”