An Amish Garden

by Beth Wiseman

  There was a gentle pink glow of light extending over the mountains. She walked out onto the porch, noticing something moving across the yard. A bear! Goliath! She’d recognize his playful gait anywhere. And along with him, he was trailing something—part of her fence! She cried out, but the bear didn’t stop. Instead, he picked up speed, and the fencing uncaught from his paw. Seeing the opportunity, the bear darted away with all his might.

  Sadie sucked in a breath. The garden! Her stomach dropped as she noticed the deer fencing strewn across the yard, but then she saw the garden plot. It was rooted up as if someone had taken a shovel to it.

  “My tomatoes!” Sadie rushed forward. “Goliath!” She seethed and clenched her teeth.

  Anger built up in her, and she sank to the ground. Her tomato plants were strewn about, and the green tomatoes that the bear hadn’t eaten lay smashed. Sadie gathered up the green, smashed tomatoes and hurried into the house. She placed them in a paper bag and then rushed outside. Isaiah’s bike was the first one she saw, and she jumped onto it. Her skirt ripped as it caught on the chain, but she tugged it hard and gave it no mind as she rode toward the bachelor’s cabin.

  Sadie didn’t know what she’d say until she got there. She rushed up the porch stairs and pounded on the cabin’s door. Less than ten seconds later, the door opened. Eli’s eyes widened in surprise. “Sadie, are you all right?”

  “That bear. That stupid bear! First the blossom-end rot and then him. He got in. He ate my ripe tomatoes. He made a mess of everything. The plants are dug up. Even the green tomatoes are smashed.” The tears came then.

  “Oh, Sadie.” Eli pulled her into his embrace. His warmth enveloped her, and she felt safe in his arms. For the first time in a long time, she felt safe.

  “Did anything survive?” It was Opa’s voice, and she could hear him approaching. Sadie held up the paper bag and then watched as he gingerly poured the contents out onto the table.

  “Four small green tomatoes.” He sighed. “If they weren’t smashed, we could have let them ripen in the windowsill, but like this . . . I’m afraid it’s not going to work, Sadie. I’m afraid they’re lost.”

  “But maybe if we could go back. Maybe if we can check out the plants to see if there is one we can salvage—” Her words were desperate. “Otherwise everything is lost.”

  “Ja, we can look. We’ll see what we can do.” Opa sighed. “But I have to tell you, it doesn’t look good.”

  Sadie sat down on the couch and let her tears fall. She cried because of the tomatoes. She cried for her parents. She cried because she’d lost the heirloom seeds—the most valuable things they’d left to her. And the whole time she sat there crying, Eli sat with his arm wrapped around her. He was tender, despite how she’d treated him. He was loving in a way she didn’t deserve.

  And as they sat there side by side, Opa sat before them in a chair. Opa prayed for her—prayed for them—not loudly, but even his whispers held conviction.

  It was only as she paused and looked up that she realized that both of them were dressed and booted up as if they were ready to head out into the morning.

  “I’m so sorry.” She wiped her face with her hand. “Were you going somewhere?”

  “Ja, as a matter of fact, we were going to see you.”

  “Really, after what I did? What I said?”

  Opa offered her a hankie, and she wiped her nose, looking from Eli to Opa, and then back to Eli again. “I’m so sorry that I didn’t believe you.”

  She rested her chin on his shoulder, and she could feel Eli swallow against her ear.

  “Your grandfather is a good man,” she finally said. “He’s just trying to do what’s right . . . to hold on to something before it’s lost.” The words were for her as much as him.

  Eli sighed. “I understand, Sadie. It’s all you have left of your parents.”

  “I should have given your grandfather the seeds. I’m afraid I’ve ruined everything.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean I’ve lost it all, my heritage.”

  “No, no, you haven’t, Sadie. That’s what we were going to tell you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “My grandfather got something in the mail—back in Indiana. My grandma packed it in his bag as a surprise, not only for him, but us too.”

  “What do you mean?” Sadie sat back and then watched as Opa moved to his suitcase, removing a white padded mailing envelope. He pulled out a letter first, handing it to her.

  “Read this letter from my wife,” Opa said with the slightest of smiles. “Out loud.”

  Dear Paul,

  I should have told you this came a few days ago, but I thought you’d like the surprise. We’ve been praying for Sadie Chupp—such a special girl—and God has answered our prayers in an unexpected way. There was a large package that came in the mail, with a small package inside. I’ve included both. The smaller package was addressed to you from Mrs. Samuel Chupp . . .”

  Sadie paused. Her hands began to quiver. “My . . . mother. I don’t understand.”

  “Keep reading, Sadie.” Eli’s voice was gentle.

  The letter included was from a man who bought a large box of garden supplies at an auction. He bought it last fall and just pulled it out this spring. In addition to clay pots, garden tools, and some seed packets, he found this small envelope. It looked as if it was prepared to be mailed but never shipped. The only right thing to do was to mail it.

  Sadie paused from her reading. “And what was inside?” Her heart double-beat in her chest, and deep down she already knew.

  Opa opened the envelope and pulled out a smaller one, handing it to Sadie.

  “You have to read the letter first,” he insisted. “Your mem’s letter.”

  Sadie opened the envelope and pulled out a piece of paper. The letter was dated June 1, just a few days before her parents’ death. The tears came.

  Dear Paul Hostetler,

  If you don’t remember me, I’m Samuel’s wife, and I have the garden that you always appreciate on Mooring Road. My tomatoes have done very well this year—the best ever. And as I’ve been drying seeds, saving them, God has been putting you on my mind.

  Now, Mr. Hostetler, I’m a good Amish woman, and I believe that God has called me to live the Amish way, but lately God’s been pointing out to me how selfish I’ve been with Englischers, especially with you. Is there anywhere in the Bible that says we’re supposed to only love our neighbors who are like us? I think no.

  So I’ve enclosed with this letter some of my heirloom tomato seeds. Use them, sell them, it does not matter to me. I just know that God has richly blessed me with life, a home, and family . . . and my garden. How can I not share?

  And maybe, sir, when you are in the area, stop by. It would be great to see you again, and maybe you could give some gardening tips to my daughter Sadie. She’s eager to learn, but not always from me. If you have a daughter I’m sure you understand.

  Mrs. Samuel Chupp

  Sadie didn’t know whether to laugh or cry when she read her mother’s words, and so she did a little of both. And then as tenderly as she could, she poured out the small seeds into her hand. Tomato seeds. They were tiny—not much larger than grains of sand—but they were so much more than seeds to Sadie. They were a handhold to the past. They were a renewal. And a promise for the future.

  Sadie closed her hand around them and looked up at Eli’s face. “What I tried to hold on to, I lost. What was given up—shared—is the only thing that was saved.”

  With tenderness, Eli ran a finger down her cheek. “Isn’t that true about everything, Sadie? Especially about love.”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t trust you,” she whispered.

  He rested a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the truth sooner about my hope for our future. I want to earn your trust again, and I want you to know that I’m going to stick around and prove that.”

  “Are you saying that you’re going to give u
p your stint as the travel-writing bachelor?”

  “My hope is to give up the traveling part, and maybe—well, I won’t try to push too hard, but the only part I want to keep of that title is ‘writer.’ And gardener. In fact, I’m counting on you to guide me in a few areas. I hear it’s harder to grow things in these parts.” He winked.

  “Ja, from what I’ve heard, it only works when one gets a good start in a greenhouse.”

  “Well, that’s not a problem then.”

  “You have a greenhouse?” Her brow furrowed. “Where?”

  “I think you know it well.” Eli smiled. “It’s the one you’ve been using.”

  “It’s another reason my grandfather came to visit,” he explained. “I told him about your neighbor’s place, and Opa contacted the owner to see if he’d be interested in selling. It turns out, he was.”

  Laughter bubbled from Sadie’s lips at the sight of Opa’s smile.

  “I told your neighbor that I want to expand my seed business. I get requests all the time from those in the Northwest who want seeds that fit their climate. I’m looking forward to coming here now and then to learn from the locals. And in the meantime, I’ve asked Eli to care for the place when I’m not there.”

  “So you’ll be my neighbor, Eli?” As gingerly as she could, Sadie poured the seeds back into the envelope.

  “Ja. What better position to be in to court you? I can’t really think of one.”

  “Court me?” Her jaw dropped. “I was just hoping you’d forgive me.”

  “Can’t I do both?”

  “Of course. I’d love that.”

  “Gut.” Eli stepped close and gave her a quick hug. “Then let’s write that on your schedule, along with cleaning up your garden.”

  “I’ll take all the help I can get,” Sadie said and smiled. “And I’ll count on you helping me track down the bear.”

  “Do you think it’s time for relocation?” Eli smirked.

  “Ja. I think so. It seems like every wild thing needs to find a place of his own to call home, and I know we’ve found ours.” She reached for Eli again and accepted his hug. “Yes, in your arms, Eli, I’ve found my home.”

  THE BUDGET—West Kootenai, Montana

  It’s been a busy few weeks around the West Kootenai area. After Goliath decided to romp around in Sadie Chupp’s garden, folks around here decided he needed a new home. One can’t mess with heirloom tomatoes around the West Kootenai and think he can get away with it. The locals believe it was the colorful, flashing pinwheels in Sadie’s garden that drew the bear, and then when Goliath got there, he decided to have breakfast. Personally, I don’t agree with that notion. Can’t a bear just be hungry every once in a while?

  A dozen of us bachelors got together, trapped the yearling, and turned him over to Fish and Game. When all of us told them we’d pool our money to pay for his safe relocation, they agreed. I’m only partly upset that my first few paychecks from Montana Log Works went to pay for a bear’s new home rather than mine, but I’ll try not to be jealous.

  The most talked-about event, though—even more than the bear—was how Sadie received an envelope of her mother’s seeds the very day she thought she’d lost all of her own plants, all of her heritage. The story is too long to relate in this short report, but suffice it to say that her mother’s generosity is coming back to bless Sadie now. Sadie had enough seeds to share with her siblings—something she was happy to do. Many members of her family will be enjoying these tomatoes for years to come.

  This reminds me what the Bible says, “For whoever wants to save their life will lose it, but whoever loses their life for me and for the gospel will save it.” So many times in life we try to protect what we value, but we are doubly blessed when we give it away.

  Have you given away your love today? Have you shared your faith? If not, what are you waiting for?

  —Eli Plank, the scribe who

  will soon not be a bachelor,

  thanks to Sadie Chupp

  READING GROUP GUIDE

  1. Sadie Chupp finds herself in the small Amish community of West Kootenai, Montana, after losing her parents. How does this community help to heal her heart?

  2. Eli Plank calls himself the bachelor scribe. What do his letters to The Budget reveal about his character and personality?

  3. Why do the heirloom seeds matter so much to Sadie? What do they symbolize for her?

  4. What kind of trouble does a mischievous bear cub cause? What do this bear’s antics reveal about Sadie?

  5. Near the end of the book, Sadie discovers something surprising. How does the “found” letter change her ideas and allow her to open her heart?

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Thank you to the HarperCollins Christian Publishing team: Daisy Hutton, Becky Philpott, Natalie Hanemann, Katie Bond, and Laura Dickerson. I also want to thank all the unsung heroes: the managers, designers, copy editors, salespeople, financial folks, etc., who make a book possible.

  Thank you to Amy Lathrop and the Litfuze Hens, Caitlin Wilson, Audra Jennings, and Christen Krumm, for supporting me and helping me stay connected with my readers . . . and for the gazillion other things you do!

  Thank you to my author-friend Melissa K. Norris for sharing all your wisdom about heirloom tomatoes!

  I’m also thankful for my agent, Janet Grant. You’re my rock star.

  And I’m thankful for my family: John, thank you for encouraging me and helping me every step of the way. Cory, Katie, Clayton, and Chloe, I am in awe of how you love and serve God together. Leslie, my missionary daughter. Your love for Jesus shines. Nathan, someday you’ll have a book published. I hope you mention me! Alyssa, Bella, and Casey. God’s gift of adoption is amazing! Grandma Dolores, you may not have passed down seeds, but your heritage of love and godliness is something I treasure.

  Finally, thank You, Jesus, for making being part of Your forever family possible.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  USA Today best-selling author Tricia Goyer is the author of thirty-five books, including the three-book Seven Brides for Seven Bachelors series. She has written over five hundred articles for national publications and blogs for high-traffic sites like TheBetterMom.com and MomLifeToday.com. Tricia and her husband, John, live in Little Rock, Arkansas, where Tricia coordinates a Teen MOPS (Mothers of Preschoolers) group. They have six children.

  Where Healing Blooms

  VANNETTA CHAPMAN

  For Uncle Joe,

  who still keeps a garden

  There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens.

  —ECCLESIASTES 3:1

  GLOSSARY OF SHIPSHEWANA AMISH WORDS

  ach—oh

  boppli—baby

  daed—father

  dat—dad, father

  danki—thank you

  Englischer—non-Amish person

  freind—friend

  gem gschehne—you’re welcome

  Gotte’s wille—God’s will

  grandkinner—grandchildren

  gut—good

  haus—house

  kaffi—coffee

  kapp—prayer covering

  kinner—children

  mamm—mom

  mammi—grandma

  nein—no

  Rumspringa—running around; time before an Amish young person has officially joined the church; provides a bridge between childhood and adulthood.

  schweschder—sister

  Was iss letz?—What’s wrong?

  wilkumm—welcome

  wunderbaar—wonderful

  ya—yes

  CHAPTER ONE

  SHIPSHEWANA, INDIANA

  MID-MAY

  Emma Hochstetter stepped onto the back porch and pulled in a deep, cleansing breath. The colors of the May afternoon were so bright they almost hurt her eyes. Blue sky spread like an umbrella over her family’s tidy homestead, which was dotted with green grass, three tall red maples, and an entire row of bur oak trees. And the garden—Mary Ann�
��s garden.

  Her mother-in-law could be found out among the garden’s rows every morning and every afternoon. The place was a work of beauty. Emma would be the first to admit it. It was also a lot of work, especially for two old ladies living on their own. Emma wasn’t in denial that she was now officially old. The popping in her knees each time she stood attested to that. Turning fifty the past winter had seemed like a milestone. She now woke each morning grateful to see another day, which might have seemed like an overreaction, but they’d had a hard year.

  “Done with the laundry?” Mary Ann called out to Emma from her bench in the garden. She’d recently turned eighty-four, and some days it seemed to Emma that her mother-in-law was shrinking before her eyes. She was now a mere five-one, which meant she reached past Emma’s chin, but barely. Her white hair reminded Emma of the white boneset that bloomed in the fall, and her eyes reflected the blue, bell-shaped flowers of the Jacob’s ladder plant.

  “Ya. Just folded and hung the last of it.” Emma walked down the steps and out into the garden.

  “Gardens will bless your soul, Emma.”

  “I suppose so.”

  “They are a place to rest, to draw near, and to heal.”

  “At the moment this garden looks like a place to work.” Emma scanned the rows of snap beans, cabbage, and spinach. The weeds seemed to be gaining ground on the vegetables.

  “Remember when the children used to follow behind me, carrying a basket and picking up the weeds I’d pulled?”

  “I do.” Emma squatted, knees popping, and began to pull at the crabgrass.

  “The girls were cute as baby chicks. Edna leading the way with Esther and Eunice following in her steps.”

  “All grown now, Mamm.”

  “Indeed.”

  “We should probably think of cutting back on the size of this garden.”