The Memory Jar

by Tricia Goyer

  Annie handed him a piece of paper with a phone number on it.

  “Come with me.” Sarah placed her hand on his arm. “I’ll show you where our phone is.”

  In the space of one heartbeat, Jathan’s knees grew weak. He looked down at the paper and the numbers blurred.

  Had something happened to one of his brothers?

  The faces of his nieces and nephews flashed through his mind next. Accidents happened every year.

  Jathan tried to remember if one of his sisters or sisters-in-law had a baby due. It seemed like one of them always did. Could there be a problem there?

  His family had been spared from great tragedy thus far. But now?

  He brushed her hand aside, feeling as if he were going to be sick. “Thank you, but I need to do this alone. If you can jest point me in the right direction …” He moved toward the front door. Sarah stepped back. Hurt flashed over her face, but he couldn’t worry about that now.

  “It’s in the shed right next to the house,” Mr. Shelter commented. “There should be enough light yet that you won’t need to light the lantern.”

  Jathan took long strides out the door and into the small shed. Mr. Shelter’s tools hung on the wall, and the simple telephone sat on a worktable. As Jathan lifted the phone’s receiver he suddenly knew. It had to be Dat. If the problem was with one of the other family members, Mem would have asked Yonnie to make the call, but not for his father. Mem would have wanted to break the news herself.

  He dialed the number on the paper. Someone picked up the phone on the first ring.

  “Hello, Jathan? Is it you?” His mother sounded a million miles away.

  “Ja, Mem. It’s me. Is something —” He couldn’t get his words out before a wail sounded in his ear.

  “Jathan, it’s yer Dat. He — he …” More sobs.

  “Let me tell him, Mem,” Yonnie’s voice said in the background. There was a shuffling sound and then his oldest brother cleared his throat.

  “Ja, Jathan?”

  “Yes, it’s me. What happened? What’s wrong with Dat?”

  “They say it’s a stroke, Jathan. I found him inside the workshop, collapsed. You need to come home now, ya hear?” Yonnie’s voice was loud, and Jathan pulled the phone from his ear.

  “See if you can make the next train,” Yonnie continued. “We need you now more than ever. All right?”

  “Ja, but how is Dat? Is he going to be all right? How serious is it?”

  More voices filtered through the phone, noises. Hospital sounds. Yonnie’s voice was distant, as if he’d pulled the phone back from his mouth and was talking to somebody else.

  “Yonnie! Are you there?” Jathan raised his voice. “How is our father? Will he be all right?”

  There was a slight buzzing, and then Yonnie clearing his throat again. “The doctor is here now. I must go. We’ll see you soon now?” Then there was only the click of Yonnie’s phone hanging up, followed by silence.

  Jathan stood for a minute, trying to comprehend what he’d just heard. He’d spent the last few weeks thinking of how he’d write home and tell Mem about spending the night in the woods without worrying her much. That didn’t matter now. Nothing seemed to matter.

  He rose and moved back to the house. Both Sarah and Annie stood there, watching him walk in. The food was still on the table but everyone else was gone. Jathan guessed they’d all gone out to the barn to do evening chores together to give him privacy.

  Jathan shrugged. “It’s my Dat. My bruder Yonnie said he had a stroke. That’s all I could get out of them. They’re not used to talking on the phone. There was a lot of commotion.”

  “Is he in the hospital?” Annie stepped forward and took Jathan’s hand and squeezed. She sometimes acted like a mom to many of the bachelors and Jathan appreciated her in that role now more than ever.

  He nodded. “Ja, but I don’t know fer how long. I don’t even know if he’ll —” His throat tightened as if someone were wrapping it with a thick rope. “They didn’t even tell me if he was going to make it. They want me to come home.”

  He glanced at Sarah. Tears filled her eyes. “Yer leaving? When?”

  “As soon as possible.”

  Annie squeezed his hand harder. “Let me help you with that. I’ll make some calls and get you a driver. We can check the train schedule too.” She straightened her shoulders and looked all business again. “Why don’t we head back to the store? We can check on my computer.” She moved to the doorway.

  Jathan followed Annie, and in fifteen minutes’ time, he had a driver committed to taking him to the train station in Whitefish the following morning and a train ticket to Ohio in hand.

  He was leaving — really leaving — just like that.

  It was dark when Jathan returned to the Shelter house. He thought he’d just walk by in case there was a light on. There was, and as he peered into the brightness through the kitchen window, he wasn’t surprised to find Sarah baking. His mother always baked when the world around her felt out of control, as if the measurements and steps put a sense of order in the world.

  He knocked once and Sarah answered the door. When he entered, he noticed Mrs. Shelter was still awake, too, scooping peanut-butter filling into pie shells. She glanced up at him and then quickly looked down at her pie. He knew then that Sarah had told her. He could tell from Mrs. Shelter’s slumped shoulders that her heart ached for him. With a sad smile, she placed the spoon on the counter and hurried out of the kitchen, heading upstairs, giving them space.

  Jathan watched as Sarah put two loaves of banana bread into the oven. “I’m baking some things — some treats fer yer ride home.”

  He reached out a hand and placed it on Sarah’s shoulder. She looked disappointed. To her, he was leaving because of a family matter. To him, his father’s illness changed everything. Jathan had no choice now. He had to stay in Ohio. He had to work. He would need money right away to help. Their community, he knew, would pitch together to help cover the hospital bills, but caring for his mother and his father — in whatever condition Dat would be — would be up to Jathan. The factory job was the only thing that would bring in sufficient funds right away, which meant all those dreams he’d shared with Sarah … well, now none of them would ever come to be.

  “I’ll write to let you know how my father is. I’m not sure when I’ll see you again …”

  She nodded but said nothing, as if waiting for him to go on, to offer an invitation to follow him to Ohio. The thing was, he didn’t want her to see him like that, working in a factory. He should appreciate the fact that he could work, but to him the idea of working on machines — well, anyone could do that. Now he had to give up on his dreams before he even had a chance to get started.

  “Maybe I could come for a visit?” she finally asked.

  How could he tell her no — that he didn’t want to see her? He couldn’t say it, but he had no doubt the distance between them would offer the space he needed to let their relationship die.

  “Ja, but I’ll understand if you can’t. It is a long way. It was nice meeting you though.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he felt coarse, guilty.

  Sarah stiffened and raised one eyebrow. Then with a frustrated squeak, she threw the wooden spoon into the sink and flung up her hands. Jathan jumped back, surprised.

  “Jest tell me the truth. You don’t want to see me. You don’t want me to visit. Maybe there’s someone there? Perhaps you forgot that part of the story?”

  “Ne!” The word burst from Jathan’s lips, and then he said the only thing he could. “I’m jest in shock, that’s all. When I left, my Dat seemed strong, healthy. I —” His words caught in his throat. “I never expected this.”

  Sarah’s shoulders slumped. “I’m so sorry.” She covered her face with her hands. “I don’t know what’s come over me. This isn’t about me and my loss. It’s about you. It’s about yer family.” She leaned forward and placed a hand on his arm. “We were jest getting to know each other. We
were jest starting to dream.”

  “You don’t understand, do you? I have to go back. I have to start that job. There will be no chance fer our dreams to come true.”

  She gazed up at him, eyes wide. Her shoulders trembled, and she looked like a scared and frightened lamb.

  Hug her, Jathan. Tell her you do care. It’s only been a short time, but you care even if you can’t see how things will ever work out.

  Instead, he stood there silent and motionless, holding himself back from all his heart was telling him to do.

  “Please write and tell me how he is,” she said.

  Jathan nodded. “Ja, I can do that.”

  “Is this good-bye?” Sarah asked.

  Jathan nodded again and then glanced at the clock on the wall. “I’m afraid so. I need to hurry to my cabin and pack. My driver’s picking me up at dawn.”

  She puckered her lip and her chin quivered.

  “None of that now. And no long good-byes.” Jathan patted Sarah’s shoulder. She stiffened under his touch.

  Then, with a heavy sigh, Jathan cast Sarah one parting look and turned toward the door.

  Long good-byes never do anyone any good, he told himself. Especially when all hope of seeing Sarah again had crashed to the floor like one of Mem’s flowerpots, splintering into a million shards.

  Any hope of romance sprouting out of the seeds of friendship they’d planted was gone. And as he walked out the front door of the Shelter home, Jathan’s heart ached for what he was leaving behind. His heart also ached for what he was sure to find at the end of a very long train ride.

  CHAPTER

  17

  Sarah watched him leave, unsure of what had just happened. He was gone, just like that. She placed a palm on her forehead, chiding herself.

  He was here for months. He sat at the first table nearly every day since he arrived, yet I didn’t talk to him, at least not more than a few sentences and not about anything that truly mattered. Not until I was lost, did I find what I’d been looking for.

  Why? She’d been foolish, paying more attention to Amos. Amos was loud and playful, yet because he’d captured her attention, she’d missed the opportunity to get to know Jathan’s heart.

  Her ankle began to ache. She moved to the stool and sat, not realizing until that moment how long she’d been standing. Maybe it had been aching all along but she hadn’t noticed until now. Maybe because the pain in her heart matched.

  The oven timer buzzed for her banana bread, but Sarah didn’t move.

  After a minute, Mem hurried into the kitchen. “I’ll get that.” She pulled out the loaves of banana bread, placing them on a cooling rack.

  “I feel so bad about his family — his father. Yer Dat and I will pray. Poor Jathan, to have to hear the news from so far away.”

  “Ja.” Sarah felt bad for Jathan, but she felt horrible for herself too. Robbed. Just like when Patty was taken. Jathan still lived, yes, but Sarah felt the glimmer of hope inside go black, as if someone had blown it out.

  “I hope his Dat will be okay,” Sarah whispered. “I’ll miss him.”

  Tears filled her eyes. How could this happen so quickly? A month ago she hardly knew Jathan existed and now …

  She swallowed and felt a flash of dread. She was going to have to work tomorrow knowing Jathan wouldn’t be there, and the next day, and the next. She’d also be waiting not-so-patiently for the mailman, wondering every time he showed up if he brought a letter from Ohio.

  Lord, why did you bring someone into my life jest to have that person snatched away? Once again … Thinking that made things seem even worse.

  When did this become about you, Sarah? She could hear the voice in her head. When did a man’s serious injury — and his son’s suffering — become all about you?

  Fourteen-year-old Sarah looked at the quilt pieces spread before them. The Amish auction was coming up and for some reason Patty had volunteered them to make a quilt.

  She blew out a puff of air and looked at the colors before her. Red, blue, yellow. Boring.

  A few of the older ladies had raised an eyebrow when Patty announced they’d donate a quilt too. They were going to be watched. Watched closely. One woman had chuckled, and Sarah had overheard her whispering to her friend, “Do those girls even know how to sew?”

  This upset Sarah. They weren’t girls, for one. Both Sarah and Patty had finished school and both had jobs helping mothers with their children. Patty helped care for a family with five young boys, which suited her just fine. Sarah’s job was working for a mother with twins. Thankfully, the mother enjoyed tending to the children and asked Sarah to focus on the kitchen duties.

  Sarah frowned at the spools of thread. She would rather peel potatoes than quilt. Not only were the women in the community going to be eyeing their work, having it at an auction meant it would be displayed for all the world to see.

  “Maybe we should jest choose one color,” Patty suggested, “and make a subtle pattern with the different shades.”

  Sarah shook her head and tossed the squares she was holding back onto the table. “Yer acting like you know what yer talking about. It’s going to look drab, and I’m gonna look like a fool.”

  Patty stood there silently. Sarah expected her to answer with a smart remark. Or stomp out. Patty did neither.

  “Sarah, when did this become about you?” Patty’s voice was calm.

  “Excuse me?”

  “We’re making a quilt for the benefit auction. The money’s going to help the school. This quilt will cover someone’s bed.” Patty closed her eyes. “I can imagine two little girls — friends — lying under it and sharing whispers jest like we did when we were ten.” She opened her eyes again and looked at Sarah.

  Sarah jutted out her chin. “Are you reprimanding me? Trying to make me feel bad?”

  “Ne. Not that.” Patty shrugged. “Jest making an observation.”

  Sarah crossed her arms. Anger bubbled inside like oatmeal at full boil. How could Patty act so calm? It made her mad that her friend’s motives were so pure.

  Patty placed two squares side by side. “I think blue and yellow will look pretty. It won’t be the best quilt but —”

  “Don’t you care that yer name will be on it?” Sarah interrupted. “Everyone will judge you.”

  Patty placed a hand over her chest. “I know I’m not the best quilter. Everyone else must guess that, too, since I don’t sit here all day with a needle in my hand.”

  Patty rose and moved to the window, looking out at the larch trees that had turned brilliant yellow. “Do you ever consider it odd how we live our life? We know what pins and snaps to use fer our garments. We count the pleats in each other’s kapps. Our dress, our humility, everyone judging each other all the day long — fer what you do and you don’t. They’ve already judged me before they’ve seen anything I’ve sewn. Some might see my attempt as weak, but fer one person — the buyer — the quilt will be a true gift, and I choose to focus on that.”

  Sarah understood what Patty was saying, but tension mounted inside. Why am I always so worried about others’ approval?

  As if reading her thoughts, Patty placed her hand over Sarah’s. “You don’t have to do this with me. I won’t be mad if you don’t.” Patty wrinkled her nose. “I doubt I’ll get it done, but I won’t be mad.”

  Patty’s words eased the tension building inside.

  “I wish you would have jest talked to me about it first,” Sarah muttered.

  “Yer right. I’m sorry, Sarah. Since I’ve known you, I’ve been bossing you around. It’s a hard habit to break, mostly because you usually go along with my ideas jest fine.”

  Patty picked up the photocopy of the sign-up sheet and ran her finger down the list of volunteers until she came to their names. Then with a pen she crossed out their names. And over them she wrote “Patty’s Quilt.”

  Sarah frowned. Had she just been … fired?

  Patty turned to her and smiled. “Sarah, I volunteered to make a qu
ilt fer the auction. Everyone knows I don’t sew well, and it’s a project I can’t finish in time. I was wondering if you — as my loving best friend who I appreciate — would be willing to help me.”

  Sarah looked from Patty’s gaze to the scattered colored squares before her. Red. Blue. Yellow. Bold colors just like Patty. She rushed over and swept her friend in a hug.

  “Ja, Patty. I would love to help you with yer quilt.” Sarah released a long sigh, and then followed it with a smile. “Thank you for asking.”

  Thirty hours had passed since Jathan’s train had left Montana. Thirty hours and thoughts of Sarah had only been halted for a time by a few hours of sleep and by worries about Dat.

  If there was ever a moment Jathan had wished he could turn back time, it was now. He’d go back to the day he left home. Dat had been out in the barn and Jathan had waved a quick good-bye. If he could do it again, instead of waving, he would give Dat a handshake. He would tell Dat that even though they hadn’t always seen eye-to-eye, he cared.

  But Jathan couldn’t turn back time. Would he even see his father alive? He couldn’t imagine life without him. The thought made his burden even heavier. Heavier because there’d be more to care for, but also because it made him think about something he’d given up considering …

  Without Dat’s opposition, would it be possible to approach Mem about helping her with the bakery? Would she listen to Jathan’s ideas? He’d always known she’d never go against Dat’s wishes. Still, for a season, she’d enjoyed having Jathan in the kitchen as much as she enjoyed being there herself.

  Another thought struck. If he could talk Mem into it, would Sarah come and help in the bakery? Jathan clung to the thought like a lifeline. Would that be too much to hope for, dream about — especially after the way he’d left things?

  If ever there was a second moment he could also return to, he’d go back and give Sarah a good-bye hug and tell her that maybe, with God’s help, their dreams could work out someday.

  The train rocked gently as it moved down the tracks, and the bright daylight cast shadows across the expansive fields and hardwood forests. He recognized the area. He was in Ohio again.