The First Love

by Beverly Lewis

  She had also been finding verses that tugged at her heart—most of them on healing. And, in order to remember them, she had written them down repeatedly.

  The sky looked brighter, the landscape sweeter . . . the neighbors’ smiles more plentiful, too, as Maggie waved to Ruth Zook and others along the route. Many of them called out a greeting. Do I look especially happy today? she wondered.

  When Maggie was small, people had often remarked to her Mamm that she was such a cheerful girl. If not for the near-constant ache of pain she felt today, Maggie would have said she was still as happy as that child. Despite her limitations, the world of her existence seemed somehow far better than before. In all truth, she had grown to know the dear Lord Jesus through His Good Book, something she had never dreamed possible. “Denki,” she whispered, voicing her prayer of thanks as she lifted her eyes to the heavens.

  This ninth day of July, she thought, I am thankful for every blessing. She stopped to count them, including her immediate family . . . and Rachel, as well. She even thanked God for Jimmy’s and Nellie’s recent suggestion about the supplements in the magazine ad. At this thought, she wondered if Dat would think the product was worth a try. Then she laughed. Nee, Dat is a penny pincher.

  She thanked her heavenly Father for both the difficulties and the blessings related to her illness, recalling the verse in Philippians she’d recently memorized. It was so pertinent to her, she had rejoiced the first time she’d come across it. That I may know him, and the power of his resurrection, and the fellowship of his sufferings. . . .

  Cousin Lila was another one of her blessings. The fact that Dat was so friendly to his cousin Tom’s family, considering their beliefs, showed what an accepting and generous man he really was. “He’s not said another word ’bout the tent meetings, either,” she murmured. “Prob’ly hopin’ I’m done with them.”

  She watched a cloud of birds flying and creating wavy designs against the bluest of skies. Thank goodness at least the pony’s paying attention to the road! she thought with a smile as she directed the pony to turn toward Betsy’s shop.

  She headed straight to the hitching post nearest the door so that she wouldn’t have far to walk, glad she’d remembered to bring her cane.

  The interior of the bakery and display area had a small space for tables and benches over near the windows, and another area where handmade crafts and aprons and other items were on display. Walking into the familiar setting, Maggie breathed deeply the delicious mingled smells of dough, sugar, and chocolate.

  Glad to be out of the pony cart, she took her time looking over the fresh assortment of doughnuts, half moons, and ginger snaps. She had some birthday money burning a hole in her pocketbook, but everything looked so mouthwatering, it was hard to decide on just one.

  “Ah, that’s it,” she whispered, spying the delicious treat her Mamm used to make. She asked plump Betsy for a couple of walnut kisses.

  “How nice to see ya out and about, Maggie,” Betsy said, her dimpled face rosy with all the rushing around she was doing. She and Maggie’s mother had been close friends since their school days. “You here by yourself?”

  “Just me and the pony.”

  “Well, why don’t ya stay an’ sit a spell? I’d like to visit with ya.” Betsy tilted her head with apparent concern. “Ain’t so easy goin’ over those bumps in the road, jah?”

  Maggie acknowledged that..

  “Glad ya came durin’ the mornin’ lull.” Betsy handed her two walnut kisses on a small paper plate, motioning toward the table in the corner. “I’ll come over and join ya for a bit, all right?”

  “Okay.” Maggie slowly made her way, making sure she held on to her treats with one hand while clumping over to the table with her cane with the other. When she sat, she realized how pretty the sunny spot was.

  “You never get to stay very long when ya drop by,” Betsy said, her face dotted with perspiration. “So this is real nice.” She dabbed at her forehead with a paper napkin from the dispenser.

  “Things have changed some since Dat remarried.”

  “Oh, ’spect so, but I pray it hasn’t been too hard on ya, Maggie. Or your brothers and sisters.”

  “We’re adjusting . . . and thankful to have a kind woman like Rachel for our Schtiefmudder.”

  Betsy’s eyes were soft, almost glimmering. “I imagine it’s challenging for Rachel, too.” She looked away. “I still think of your Mamm nearly every day.”

  Maggie reached to touch the back of Betsy’s hand. “She loved ya dearly.”

  Betsy nodded and wiped away a tear. “She and I double-dated our fellas when we were courtin’ age . . . did ya know?”

  Maggie shook her head. “Mamm always said yous were nearly like sisters.” She noticed a tour bus pulling in just then. “Looks like you’ve got a bunch of tourists comin’.”

  “Never much time to sit for long in the summertime,” Betsy said, spotting the bus, too. “Just when I think I’ll have a chance to catch up with ya, here come some more customers.”

  “Oh, I’ll be back again—you can count on that.” The people were filing out of the bus now, walking briskly toward the popular bakery. The women and girls wore pretty dresses and skirts, or pants rolled up at the ankle. Several teenage girls had ponytails, and others short bobs. The men had on dark blue jeans or pressed black trousers and short-sleeved shirts, and some of the boys sported shorts and T-shirts with designs on the front. It was hard not to take notice of how the English dressed. Fascinating, truth be told.

  “We’ll talk more another day,” Betsy said, going back to scoot behind the counter.

  It had been nice to visit briefly, but with the crowd coming in, Maggie couldn’t imagine staying there to be squished in with so many tourists. She didn’t mind being around fancy folk, but she disliked being stared at, even if in a friendly I’m-just-curious-about-you sort of way.

  She glanced outside, noticed the empty tables, and decided to move out there. Exiting by way of the side of the shop, Maggie was surprised to see Glenn Brubaker there eating a half moon. An older woman with a strong family resemblance was with him.

  Goodness, she thought, pleased yet shy.

  “Maggie . . . come join us,” Glenn said, waving her over.

  “Hullo,” she said, feeling awkward.

  “I’d like you to meet my mother, Esther.” He motioned to the smiling woman surrounded by sunshine. Her gold hair shimmered and was swept back into a bun partially concealed by a pleated, cup-shaped head covering. Like Cousin Lila’s, her floral-print dress hung to her midcalf.

  “So gut to meet ya.” Maggie shook hands with Esther, who smiled warmly in return. “Are yous just out sightseeing?” Maggie asked, taking a seat at their table.

  Esther glanced at Glenn and smiled. “My son’s never driven the back roads here. And since my husband’s studying for his message tonight, we thought we’d experience the peace of Amish farmland for ourselves.”

  “It’s a perty day for it,” Maggie said, taking a small bite of her treat.

  “And too warm to sit inside,” Glenn said.

  “The breeze is nice right here,” Esther said, making small talk.

  Maggie could see that the line of customers snaked clear out the door now. “It’s a gut thing yous came before the bus did.”

  “Definitely.” Glenn laughed and then asked what she was eating.

  “Oh, these? Well, if you’ve never had a walnut kiss, it’s a meringue with egg whites, plenty-a sugar, vanilla, and walnuts. Really delicious.”

  “I’ll have to come back to sample that another day,” Glenn said, glancing at his mother.

  “Yes, before the crusade ends,” Esther said. “I can tell you wouldn’t mind a second visit.”

  “Mom knows me well,” Glenn said, chuckling.

  Esther gave Maggie a smile, then rose lightly from the table. “Would you excuse me for a moment? I’m curious about some of the crafts inside.”

  “Sure, Mom. Take your time,” Glenn
said, and when Esther made her way toward the front entrance, he seemed to relax, his shoulders visibly dropping as he smiled at Maggie. “What a surprise, bumping into you like this.”

  She asked if the meetings were still growing in attendance every night.

  “Are they ever! But more than that, God is using them to advance His kingdom,” he said, saying that they’d had to add another tent to the existing one.

  She was about to express her surprise about the second tent when she noticed her brother Leroy coming toward them. “Leroy . . . hullo,” she said. He was carrying a bag that appeared to have blocks of cheese inside. “Did ya buy some sweets?”

  He ducked his head a bit, then saw Glenn and frowned. “Not yet . . . I had a hankerin’ for chocolate chip cookies and thought I’d stop in.” He was studying Glenn real hard. “But then I spotted you out here.”

  Probably because Glenn and I are sitting together alone, she thought, not sure if she should introduce him, or what to say if she did.

  But before she could, Glenn reached out his hand, introducing himself and inviting Leroy to the tent meetings. “You certainly resemble your sister.” He chuckled amiably. “It’s Leroy, then? I heard Maggie say your name just now.”

  At first it looked like her brother might turn and skedaddle, but then he asked, “I’ve been curious ’bout that crusade. I hear our cousin Luke’s helpin’ out with the lights and whatnot.”

  Glenn nodded. “Luke’s become a great friend of mine,” he said. “Maybe you could come to a meeting sometime with Maggie?” He smiled appealingly, then changed the subject. “By the way, I guess you know how fortunate you are to live near this pastry shop.”

  Leroy bobbed his head and gave Maggie the oddest look. “Well, I should get home before Dat wonders what’s up.” His laugh was a bit forced, and Maggie worried what he might tell Dat about her being there with Glenn. “Nice meetin’ ya, Glenn,” Leroy said. Then to Maggie, he said, “Well, I’ll be seein’ ya at home . . . soon.”

  Maggie agreed, feeling a bit perturbed as Leroy hurried off to the family market wagon he was using for errands.

  “Well, he’s certainly in a hurry,” Glenn remarked. “And forgot to buy his cookies.”

  “I’ll get some and surprise him,” Maggie replied, not letting on that she, too, noticed how uncomfortable her brother had been just now.

  Leaning back a little to get out of the sun spilling in on one side of the umbrella, Glenn asked if she’d had a chance to read from Mark’s Gospel, chapter five. “Not to press you . . . simply curious.”

  “I’ve read it a dozen or more times.” She was glad he’d asked, because it meant so much to be able to talk with someone who knew his way around the Bible. “I’ve been readin’ so much, I think my family’s beginning to worry ’bout me.”

  Glenn smiled. “Maybe your hunger for Scripture will spill over onto them.”

  “You could be right.” She paused. “Still, it’s not like we don’t read the Bible. Dat reads it to us as a family twice a day.”

  Glenn’s eyebrows rose, and he nodded approvingly. “You’re blessed. Many families don’t have devotions together.”

  At that moment, she thought of Aunt Nellie. She’d really like Glenn.

  “I’ve been praying for you, Maggie.” Glenn looked serious now. “For your healing.”

  Once again, his words caught her off guard, but in a good way. But really, why would he do that? They weren’t related or even close friends. “That’s kind,” she managed to say, feeling tenderhearted around him all of a sudden as the tourists milled about, some standing with their pastries, waiting for a table.

  She suggested they let someone else have theirs, and Glenn agreed, saying he ought to track down his mother soon, before she used up all her spending money.

  “It’d be easy to do here,” Maggie replied as they walked slowly toward the parking lot.

  “Pastries and crafts . . . sheer heaven for tourists,” Glenn said.

  “Betsy does have a thrivin’ business.” Maggie wondered how Glenn and his mother had stumbled upon this particular shop and not one of the dozens of others around the county. However it had come about, she was happy they had.

  “Do ya plan to come to any more of the meetings?” Glenn asked as she untied the pony from the hitching post.

  “I’d like to, but I really shouldn’t.”

  A frown flickered across his face. “Shouldn’t?”

  “I was pushing the boundaries by goin’ at all.”

  He nodded thoughtfully. “Well, it was great to see you again.”

  She smiled. “Da Herr sei mit du,” she said softly.

  His eyes registered his question.

  “Our way of saying The Lord be with you,” she told him.

  Glenn’s face beamed. “You too, Maggie. I mean that.”

  Carefully, she placed her cane inside the pony cart, then got in. She was reaching for the driving lines when she realized Glenn was still standing there.

  “Hatyee,” she said, smiling. “That’s farewell in Deitsch.”

  “Of course.” He nodded thoughtfully and folded his arms as if he wanted to say more. “Say, not to hold you up, but would you happen to know anything about tours around the area? There’s an old gristmill a couple of miles up the road that looks particularly interesting.”

  “I know that place.” She smiled. “My father works there.”

  Glenn was pleasantly surprised, and Maggie offered his family a tour.

  “My mother and I would enjoy that, but—”

  “It’s no trouble, really,” she said quickly.

  “Well, isn’t this providential!” He ran his hand through his wavy blond hair.

  “Could you be there a few minutes before twelve tomorrow, when the workers break for the noon hour?”

  “We certainly can! Thanks, Maggie.”

  “I’ll let my father know—he’s workin’ to erect our new stable, so it’ll have to be a short tour.”

  “That’s fine, but I’d hate to put him out.”

  Maggie nodded, wanting to please the Brubakers.

  “Okay, we’ll look forward to it.” Then, glancing toward Betsy’s shop, Glenn motioned to his mother, who was emerging from the shop, a large sack in hand. “This will be a huge surprise for my mom . . . she’s been real curious to see inside a working mill.”

  “All right, then, sounds like Dat and I will see ya tomorrow.” Maggie signaled the pony to move forward and settled in for the ride home.

  21

  Thick gray clouds hovered near the horizon as the pony trotted along, although the sky was bright and blue where Maggie rode. As a child, she’d often reached her arms toward the clouds while sitting in the branches of the mature trees in her father’s yard, but today she was thinking back on her conversation with Glenn. I might’ve made a mistake in suggesting the tour, she fretted. Dat’s not keen on the tent meetings . . . he might be suspicious of Glenn and his mother’s motives.

  And it hadn’t slipped her mind that Leroy had stumbled upon her sitting outside the bakery with the evangelist’s son. Goodness, am I in trouble if Dat hears about that!

  All of this made Maggie feel especially awkward about arriving home with the noon meal in full swing—she hadn’t been there to help Rachel and Grace with food preparation as she’d originally planned.

  I lost track of time. . . .

  “Thought Maggie’d be back by now,” Grace told Rachel as they hurried around the kitchen, putting the final touches on the hearty barbeque beef dinner.

  “Last I heard, she didn’t want to be gone long,” Rachel said, thinking that Maggie’s disappearing was becoming something of a joke. “She didn’t happen to leave a note, did she?”

  Miriam giggled over where she was setting the table. The little sweetie had asked if she could put on the paper napkins they used only for special occasions, saying it was a “messy meal” and she didn’t like to see her brothers lick their fingers. Also, with the construction of the
new stable under way, today they would again host as many menfolk as could fit around the table.

  Rachel could see Miriam carefully folding the napkins and placing one under the fork on the left side of each plate. “The table looks real nice,” she said with a smile at Miriam when she looked her way.

  “It’s like for special, Mamma Rachel,” Miriam said.

  Grace looked suddenly at Rachel, as though she hadn’t heard her younger sister talk like this before. “You’re fussin’ too much over those napkins,” Grace said. Her tone wasn’t exactly disagreeable, but it was clear that Grace was befuddled. She glanced at the day clock and turned back to the freshly made bread she was slicing on a large cutting board. “I sure hope Maggie didn’t get herself in a pickle somewhere.”

  “Pickles! Jah, that’s just what we need,” Miriam declared, evidently not sensing Grace’s anxiety.

  Rachel chuckled. “Sure, go down cellar and get some right quick.”

  And Miriam, rather gleeful, rushed to the door to the cold cellar, running all the way downstairs.

  “Are ya concerned ’bout Maggie?” Rachel asked, taking the opportunity to inquire since she and Grace were alone.

  “Honestly, I worry over her a lot,” Grace said as she carefully placed the bread slices in a rectangular basket. “Guess I feel kinda protective of her.”

  “Her ailment is so erratic.” Rachel glanced at Grace, wanting to be careful what she said.

  “She’s more frail than most folk realize,” Grace replied.

  Wondering if that comment was meant for her benefit, Rachel checked the barbeque beef on the cookstove. That Grace adored Maggie was obvious, yet there were also occasions when Rachel sensed a slight discord between the two. Did it have anything to do with Maggie’s staying home from Singing lately? Rachel had noticed that Grace hadn’t been happy about going alone last time.

  Grace looked back at Rachel as if she was about to say something, but she merely reached to untie her work apron and went to the side door to look out, frowning.