Grace's Forgiveness

by Molly Jebber

  “Why did you choose Berlin to start a new life?”

  “My haus caught on fire and burnt to the ground. I had gotten acquainted with Mr. Stoltzfus, and he offered to sell me his property here.”

  Grace sighed. “What caused it?”

  “Someone I knew accidentally knocked over a lit lantern in my barn. The fire spread and destroyed it and my haus. I stayed with my other neighbor until after the Stoltzfuses’ funeral and then came to Berlin.”

  Mark had endured a lot of pain in his life, losing his parents and his haus. It must be hard to move to a new place where he wasn’t familiar with anyone. She couldn’t imagine doing the same. “It must’ve been disheartening for you to lose your barn, your haus, your parents, and the Stoltzfuses.”

  “It was a shock. As far as the fire goes, I’m relieved my handcrafted furniture and such in the workshop weren’t harmed. It would take a long time to replace them.”

  “I’m surprised you bought Mr. Stoltzfus’s haus sight unseen.”

  He laughed. “We had become fast friends. I trusted him.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I needed somewhere to live, and the man asked a fair price I could afford. If anything had been wrong with the haus, I knew I could repair it.” Pausing, he walked over to a quilt. “This caught my eye while we were talking. Did you make this one?”

  “I did. The Jacob’s ladder pattern is one of my favorite ones.”

  He put his mug on the counter. “This would be perfect to drape over the back of my settee.” He studied the pinned price note. “I’ll buy it.”

  Mark helped her unhook his purchase off three wooden pegs, folded the material, unpinned the small white paper, and paid her. She patted the pocket. “You could write a letter, tuck it inside, and give the quilt to someone special for a keepsake.”

  “Maybe I will someday.”

  His rough-skinned fingers grazed hers, and she warmed. Mark King had left his friends and church and everything familiar behind. How intriguing. Did he have other reasons why he left Lancaster to begin a new life in Berlin? “Won’t you miss your friends?”

  “Jah, but I’ll write to them.” He tucked his quilt under his arm and then glimpsed at the small wooden pine clock on the counter. “I should go. I bought livestock, a rooster, and hens from an Englischer I met at the General Store. His name’s Jed Post. He told the storeowner he’s moving and selling his livestock. He asked if the storeowner knew anyone who’d be interested in buying them. I introduced myself, and Mr. Post sold them to me for a good price. He’s bringing them to me around ten.”

  “The man’s timing and yours couldn’t have been better. Have a nice day. I’ll meet you here tomorrow morning.”

  “See you then, Grace.” He closed the door behind him.

  Sarah returned several minutes later. “Did you have a chance to get better acquainted with Mark?”

  Grace traced the top of his empty mug. “Yes, and he bought the store next to us this morning.”

  “I’m surprised he didn’t tell Levi about it. We assumed he was going to sell his things out of his workshop beside his barn. Having a store in town will give him better access to walk-in customers.”

  “He didn’t want to tell anyone until he’d settled on a price with the owner. He’ll open it to patrons in a week from Saturday.”

  “Oh, Grace, I’m so excited! He’ll be right next door. It’ll give you an even better chance to talk to him.”

  Grace glanced at the clock. Eight in the morning couldn’t kumme soon enough.

  Mark stepped onto the boardwalk, shielded his eyes from the bright sun, and headed for the livery. The morning had flown. It was 9:40. He should’ve left Grace’s earlier, but wild horses couldn’t have pulled him away from her. She’d captivated his interest with those deep brown eyes. He walked faster. Mr. Post might already be at his haus.

  He dodged horses and buggies while crossing the road. Townsfolk filled the streets, and stores buzzed with activity. He passed Amish and Englischer patrons exiting and entering Berlin’s General Store and post office. He glanced at the blacksmith hammering a horseshoe. The aroma of fresh baked bread filled the air in front of the bakery. He ducked in the store and bought a loaf for supper.

  His purchase in hand, he sidestepped past the hunched-over peddler selling carved oak canes to a patron. Threatening gray clouds rolled in and covered the sun. The weather wouldn’t dampen his mood today. Not after meeting Grace. Her choice of work forced her to deal with patrons face-to-face. Her birthmark hadn’t stopped her from being a midwife and store manager. Impressive. She had a melodious voice, big brown eyes, and a cheerful attitude. Kind and sweet described her best.

  He hadn’t known whether to mention his bruder or not when Sarah asked if he had siblings. Amish law stated he should shun anyone who joined the church then left the Amish order, as if they were dead. His bruder might ask friends in Lancaster where he had moved to. If Abel came to his haus or shop and asked for help, what would he do? He pushed the anguish out of his mind.

  Mark approached the liveryman, paid his fee, and retrieved his horse and buckboard. On his way home, the soft wind blew the dark clouds away, allowing the sun to shine. He’d open the windows to invite the fresh air inside when he arrived home.

  He climbed out of the buckboard and tied the horse’s reins to the white hitching post. Jed Post stood on his porch. He motioned to a young man who sat in a spring wagon loaded with crates of hens and a rooster. Three other young men managed the livestock.

  “I hope I haven’t kept you waiting long.”

  “No, we arrived a few minutes ago. We’ll follow you to the barn and help you secure the animals.” Mr. Post introduced Mark to his sons. “Call me Jed.”

  “Danki, and call me Mark.” He unhitched his horse from his buckboard and stowed him in a stall.

  The men guided and secured the plow horse, sow, hogs, cows, hens, and rooster inside the barn.

  Mark indicated the haus. “I’ll go inside and get the money I owe you. You’re wilkom to kumme inside and rest. Would any of you like something to eat or drink?”

  “Danki, but we can’t stay long. We’re getting ready to move and have a lot of work to do before the sun sets. I’ll wait here.”

  Mark went inside, retrieved coins from his money jar, and joined Jed. He pressed the coins in his hand. “Danki.” He chatted with his visitors for about ten minutes.

  Jed gestured to his sons. “It’s been a pleasure doing business with you, Mark. We should be on our way. My bruder is expecting us. He’s much older than I am and not in good health. We’re going to move into his big place and take over his farm in Lancaster. He’s got more livestock than I need. I’m pleased you bought mine.”

  “I’m sorry your bruder is ill. I hope all goes well as you travel there.” Mark bid them farewell and checked the livestock again. The animals appeared healthy and were what he needed.

  Several minutes later, a horse’s neigh caught his attention. He peeked outside. Who was coming toward his haus? This day had been busy. It was a good thing he’d finished a lot of his chores at six this morning. A short, round Amish man got out of his buggy and held his horse’s reins. Wire-framed spectacles sat low on the man’s nose. “I’m Bishop Weaver.”

  “I’m Mark King. Would you like to kumme in?”

  “Jah, may I call you Mark?”

  “Of course, but before we go inside, I’ll give your horse food and water.”

  “Don’t bother. I mean to stay only a short time.” Bishop Weaver secured his horse to the hitching post and patted the animal’s head. “There you go, boy.” He then followed Mark inside.

  Bishop Weaver removed his hat and hung it on a sturdy new maple rack displaying thick hooks Mark had nailed to the wall next to the front door.

  Mark should’ve prepared answers for questions Bishop Weaver and others might ask about his family. “Have a seat.” He opened the windows and breathed in. “It looks like the clouds have departed.” He approached his guest. “Would
you like anything to eat or drink? It’s close to eleven thirty. I have stew I can heat.”

  “Nothing for me, danki.” Bishop Weaver placed his hat on his lap. “Levi Helmuth told me about your parents’ and the Stoltzfuses’ accidents and the fire. The Stoltzfuses were good friends of mine. I was surprised to hear they are with God in Heaven. You’re a young man to have suffered such tragedy and hardship.”

  Mark frowned and folded his hands in his lap. “I miss my parents and the Stoltzfuses. The haus and barn were replaceable.” He heaved a deep breath. “With God’s help, I was able to move on with my life.”

  The bishop leaned back against the feather-filled black cushions and drummed his fingers on the oak armrest. “Levi told me you’re a talented carpenter.” He pointed. “Your oak desk and matching spindle chair sitting in the corner are exquisite. I now realize those pieces match the furniture you and I are occupying. You do fine work.”

  “Danki. I bought and am opening a furniture store next to Grace and Sarah’s Dry Goods Shop a week from Saturday. I’ll sell similar chairs, settees, desks, and tables, along with potato bins, cashboxes, toys, and household items. You’re wilkom to stop in and browse.”

  The bishop moved to the door. “I will, and I’ll also spread the word we have a new furniture store in town.”

  The man’s offer was generous. Mark appreciated his kindness. “I would be grateful if you would.”

  The bishop stopped. “I hope you’ll like living in Berlin. We’re a close community. The townsfolk help those in need of clothes, money, food, and care. We keep to ourselves. I ask you to do the same. Englischers visit and buy our goods, but otherwise leave us alone. We don’t want any trouble from the outside world.” He withdrew a booklet from his jacket pocket and passed it to Mark. “Please read our Ordnung. You have been born and raised in the Amish faith, but each community has its own set of rules. You’ll be expected to follow ours if, by chance, they differ from the ones you’re accustomed to.”

  Mark accepted the Ordnung. “I understand.” He wouldn’t cause any trouble. He couldn’t help it if trouble followed him. He hadn’t been sure how to answer Grace when she’d asked him how his barn caught on fire.

  It hadn’t been long ago when Abel, his drunken bruder, had shown up at his haus in Lancaster. He’d asked for money, knocked over a lantern, and set fire to Mark’s barn when leaving. Before help arrived, high winds and grass fed the flames and the fire burned out of control and spread, destroying everything he owned, except his workshop. Thankful he’d hidden his money in his workshop and not in his haus, he was able to buy what he needed to move to Berlin.

  His bruder hadn’t meant to do it, but for his bruder to still have the nerve to ask for money had disappointed him. He had begged him to turn his life around, to no avail.

  His neighbors in Lancaster knew his new location. If his bruder found out where he lived and came to his haus, the bishop and community wouldn’t approve. He loved his bruder, in spite of his bad judgment. He’d continue to pray for Abel to turn back to God and his Amish life.

  “I’ll expect you to attend our church service a week from Sunday. Our services are held every two weeks. Mr. Ropp donated land to the church to build a separate barn and stable on his property for the purpose of holding services. He’s on South Street. You’ll find the barn and a sign out front not far from here. The ladies bring a simple but delicious meal for us to enjoy after I finish delivering my sermon. Do you have any questions?”

  “No. Danki for the directions.”

  “Get acquainted with the people in our community. I’ll introduce you to our members on a Sunday of my choosing and ask you to acknowledge your agreement to follow our Ordnung. Then I’ll ask the members to accept you into our Amish order.”

  “I understand, and I’m looking forward to it.”

  The bishop shook Mark’s hand. “It’s been a pleasure to meet you.”

  Mark followed the bishop outside, retrieved the man’s horse, and bid him farewell. He waited until the bishop had reached the end of the long dirt road before heading inside. The bishop had spoken in a gruff voice and been direct with his points. He’d been kind and wilkoming too. Mark respected him. The bishop seemed to have a genuine concern for the people in the community. Mark liked him.

  They had talked for longer than Mark had thought. Two o’clock already. Hunger pangs rumbled in his stomach. What should he fix for dinner? The first thing he’d do was start a good fire.

  Mark went into the sitting room and headed for the fireplace. He added small pieces of kindling to the two logs, lit a match, and waited a few seconds. He swung out the pole hook and removed the black cast iron pot before it became too hot. He reached for the old bellows and used it to encourage the flames.

  His daed had taught both him and his bruder how to build and maintain a good fire. Even though he had a small stove, he still liked using the pot for his stew. It reminded him of his daed building a fire and his mamm cooking food this way.

  He snatched the pot, carried it to the kitchen, and set it near the old icebox. The leftover vegetable and venison mixture would satisfy his hankering for a hot meal. After dumping it into the kettle, he carried it back to the pole hook, slipped it on, and placed it on the low-burning fire.

  Beautiful Grace popped in his mind. No other woman had stirred him like she had. Except for her birthmark, her skin was flawless. Her smile lit up the room. Had she experienced the same spark he had when they talked? Her gaze held his before he left, and she beamed when he told her he’d be working next door.

  The venison stew was nice and warm. He breathed in the scent of the meat, carrots, green beans, onions, and tomatoes. Good choice. He snatched two thick towels and removed the pot from the fireplace and returned it to the kitchen. From the cupboard he removed a bowl then ladled the hot mixture into it, set it on the kitchen table, bowed his head, and gave danki to God for his food and meeting Grace. He’d had a wonderful day. Minutes later, he’d finished his dinner and put his dishes in the sink.

  Crash!

  Horses neighed.

  Slam!

  Mark dashed outside to his large gray barn, noticed the doors open, and darted inside. Hens flapped their wings and squawked, hogs grunted, and the horses nickered with nervousness. His ladder lay on top of a metal tub. Not in its proper place. He would’ve never left it there. The ladder must’ve fallen and created the noise.

  He moved to the haystacks. They’d been moved. Had his handcrafted furniture in the workshop been disturbed? He rushed there. He threw open the door and studied the shelves and hooks on the walls. Tools hung in place and his things were right where he’d left them. If any of his furniture and such had been destroyed or harmed, these things would’ve been impossible to replace in time to open his shop.

  He returned to the barn and circled behind a pile of tall haystacks and found half-eaten butter cookies, an empty can of beans, and ajar of water. Ashes lay on gathered logs. Mark rubbed his chin. The intruder had picked a good spot to conceal his things where Mark wouldn’t have a reason to look earlier.

  A chill marched down his spine. Abel. Why would his bruder hide in his barn? He hadn’t hesitated to barge into his haus in Lancaster the last time he needed money. He had no idea what decisions Abel would make these days. Nonetheless, whoever the person was who had kumme here had put his barn at risk of catching fire. He picked up a used match. He hadn’t seen anyone. The intruder must’ve kumme and gone when he was sleeping last night. Had the stranger returned for something, but what? Why didn’t the intruder wait until dark? He couldn’t have gone far, but there were plenty of places for the intruder to hide in the woods behind his haus.

  Mark strode outside and surveyed the grounds. The quiet, dense woods showed no movement, but it would be easy to hunker down among the trees and thick brush. Birds chirped and the wind whistled. A red squirrel scampered up an old oak tree. He walked the grounds again. Whoever had been in his barn was long gone. Shaking his head, he we
nt back inside the haus.

  He lifted the shotgun off metal hooks above the door and opened it. A bullet was chambered inside. This shotgun had kumme in handy. Coyotes and foxes had threatened to have his chickens for supper too often.

  Levi told him to fire two warning shots at the sky if he ever had an emergency. Neighbors would recognize the signal to kumme running to his aid. He’d keep it near. To shoot a man had never entered his mind. Something he hoped never to do. The Amish law to avoid violence at all costs was clear. A law he had practiced all his life.

  Later, a knock sounded. He placed the shotgun against the wall and opened the door. “Levi, kumme in.”

  “I won’t keep you long, but I need a few minutes of your time. I’ve got some disturbing news.”

  Mark frowned. “What’s wrong?”

  “Someone came in our haus while we were out yesterday. Sarah had baked oatmeal cookies, and they were gone when we returned. Matches and loose change are missing from the jar we leave in the cupboard.”

  Oh no. He hoped the one stealing wasn’t Abel. It was hard to believe his bruder would hide in his barn and steal from him and his neighbors. He couldn’t imagine Abel resorting to this type of bad behavior, but again, he wasn’t certain what to think at this point. The intruder could be anyone.

  Mark gestured to a chair. “Have a seat.” He rubbed the knot in his neck. “A short time ago, loud noises came from my barn. By the time I ran outside, the man had left.” He recounted to Levi what he found. “I’m angry the intruder started a fire to keep warm and heat his beans. I’m bothered he’ll return and do this again. He might burn it to the ground if he’s not careful.”

  Levi crossed his arms. “I’m concerned for our community’s safety. Townsfolk in Berlin don’t lock their doors. We haven’t had a reason to. The women in our community are comfortable walking alone to visit each other. Sarah and Grace drive their wagons to work by themselves.”