The Memory Jar

by Tricia Goyer

  Yet Jathan wasn’t as interested in the view as he was in the newspaper sitting on the seat next to the businessman nearby. The older man had set it down ten minutes ago and hadn’t picked it back up.

  Jathan leaned forward. “Sir, are you done with that newspaper?”

  The man lifted his eyebrows, surprised.

  “Uh, yes.” He handed it over.

  Jathan flipped through it to the article he’d been trying to read from across the aisle. It was an article about the growth of small businesses and how to determine if one would succeed.

  He’d just neared the end of the article when the man cleared his throat. Jathan glanced up.

  “Do you have a business?” the man asked. Then he leaned forward and offered his hand. “I’m Bob, by the way.”

  “I’m Jathan. It’s nice to know you. To answer yer question, well, my family has two businesses. Dat — uh, my brother makes log furniture and my Mem runs a bakery. She makes the best bread I’ve ever had. Have you been to Holmes County, Ohio, before?”

  “I haven’t, but my sister goes there with her friend. She likes to buy quilts and other such things.”

  “You should tell her about the bakery. It’s in Berlin. Our Daily Bread is the name of it, right on Main Street.” Jathan smiled. “The tourists come year round, but more come in the summer. I’ve seen the line go out the door.”

  “I imagine it would. Do you have other baked goods, too, like cakes and pies and such?” There was an interest in the man’s eyes Jathan didn’t understand.

  Jathan nodded. “Ja, but they’re not Mem’s specialty.” They were good, but not like what Sarah made. He smiled, thinking of her again, of how she’d taken his breath away the first time he’d seen her. How much he liked her smile … and her cupcakes.

  Jathan pushed away those thoughts and instead launched into talking about his mother’s cinnamon rolls and fall pumpkin bread, which always brought big orders. Talking about those things was easier than accepting that the train was taking him farther away from Sarah with each passing minute.

  The man listened with interest. He asked about their baking methods and focused on Jathan’s words. When the train slowed, Jathan rose to get off.

  The man stood and took a step closer. “Listen, I know we don’t have time to talk about it fully now, but I’d like to talk to you about some sandwich shops I have in New York State. If you think you could find a way to service some orders of bread and pastries, I’d love to talk to you more about your business.” He pulled out his wallet and handed his business card to Jathan.

  “It’s not my business. My mem —”

  The man interrupted. “If you haven’t talked your mother into hiring you, son, you should. I listen to business presentations all the time, and if they were half as informative or interesting as what you just talked about, I’d love my job much more than I do. I won’t keep you, but email me …” The man paused as if remembering to whom he was speaking. “I mean —” He looked at the floor as if wishing it would open up and swallow him.

  Jathan chuckled deep from his gut. “There is a phone down the street. I can borrow it.” Excitement caused his heart to pound, and he felt his heartbeat in his throat. He’d just thought about the idea of helping Mem when he returned and here he was meeting a possible future client.

  Even though his Amish community believed in the importance of prayer, Mem had taught him something else too: True followers of Christ took time to listen. Not only to listen to the still, small voice of God the Bible talks about, but to also listen to the people and circumstances God brings into their lives, to consider where God is at work.

  Lord, are you telling me something?

  Jathan felt a stirring inside, something that told him to wait and pray about it. But was there really a need to pray when the answer had been placed right in front of him?

  With enthusiasm Jathan stretched out his hand, accepting the man’s handshake. “Thank you, sir. You’ll be hearing from me. I’m not sure how we’ll work it out, but I have a feeling we will.”

  Jathan grabbed his small suitcase and exited the train. Two men in Amish dress stood by the curb next to an Englisch driver.

  Seeing their solemn faces, guilt rushed over him. How could he think about the bakery when the only reason it was a possibility was because his father had a stroke?

  He hurried to Yonnie and Otto and stopped before them. Tears rimmed Yonnie’s eyes and Otto’s eyes were red. Neither looked as if they’d slept at all in the past week.

  “Dat, is he …”

  Otto placed a hand on Jathan’s shoulder. “He’s home. He’s resting.”

  Jathan let out the breath he’d been holding.

  “Yet Mem says not to tarry in heading home. With Dat’s condition, you never know.” Yonnie shook his head. “You jest never know.”

  CHAPTER

  18

  Jathan walked into the dawdi house and hung his hat on the hook. The last time he’d been there was when his oma was still around. His parents had cared for her then. Now they were the ones being cared for.

  The kerosene lantern hung in the middle of the room. The walls were white. The furniture simple. The only color came from the quilt folded over the back of the sofa and the green potted plants his mother managed to nurture even in the midst of caring for her children and grandchildren and running a bakery.

  Mem slept in the recliner, her stockinged feet sticking up in the air, her prayer kapp still on and her mouth hanging open like it always did when she was exhausted. She had no doubt been waiting up for Jathan to arrive. Unfortunately, their driver’s car had gotten a flat tire, making Jathan later than he’d expected.

  Talking to Yonnie and Otto on the drive home had made everything more real. His heart ached considering what they’d all gone through.

  “I found him in the workshop,” Yonnie’d said. “Dat had been up late working on a dining room table fer a client. He said he was following me out and would be heading fer bed. I went and hitched up the horse to my buggy to head fer home, and then I glanced back at the shop. The kerosene lantern was still burning. Something told me to go back and check on him, and there he was, collapsed by the door. I think he musta been coming fer me … coming fer help when he started feeling not right.”

  It had only been two months, but Yonnie’s hair was far more gray than when Jathan had left, and Jathan guessed working in the shop had done that. All the orders, all the competition, the intricate woodwork they took pride in. Maybe these things had even caused Dat’s stroke. Jathan shook his head.

  Ne, I’m not going to take on that burden too.

  Jathan took two steps toward the bedroom where his father rested and then paused, trying to control his emotions before he went in.

  Rested was the word his brother Otto had used. Otto had always been optimistic. But on the drive to Berlin, Yonnie had explained the facts.

  “It was a severe stroke. He’s paralyzed on one side. He can’t talk. We aren’t sure if he recognizes us. Our sisters asked if physical therapy would help, but the doctor didn’t think it would. They told us to take him home and make him as comfortable as possible. The good news is, when Mem puts soft foods to his lips he opens his mouth and swallows. Dat never did have a problem eating.” Yonnie had offered a sad laugh.

  Jathan took a few more steps toward the bedroom to see his father — to touch him and pray. As he quietly moved past Mem in the recliner, her eyes popped open. She rose from the chair and rushed to him. “Yer home. Yer home.”

  “Ja, Mem. I made it. How’s —” He started to ask how Dat was, but he knew the answer. Instead, he kissed the top of her forehead. “Can I see him?”

  Mem nodded. “Dat was watching me tonight as I moved around the room. I was unpacking my things, and I could almost hear him in my mind. ‘Maggie, can’t you sit fer a spell?’” She chuckled.

  She took Jathan’s hand. “Come.” She led the way.

  He walked with quiet steps into the room. A hospita
l bed had been set up next to his parents’ bed. Dat lay it in peacefully, eyes closed.

  “Yer Dat’s eyes fluttered open at four o’clock, as if he was going to wake up and do the chores.” Mem smiled. “He didn’t wake up fer long, and he can’t speak, but he moved his head from side to side as if he wanted to tell me somethi —” She covered her mouth with her hand. “I’ve jest never known him to be so quiet. You know yer Dat. He has an opinion about everything.”

  “Ja, I know him.” Jathan approached his father’s bedside. He considered taking his hand, but stopped short. His father had many good qualities, but he was stubborn. And his temper … Jathan swallowed hard, wishing he could erase all the memories he had stored up. Wishing he could peer down at his father with the same look of adoration that Mem wore.

  Mem motioned to her bed and Jathan sat. She sat beside him.

  “I’m so glad you’ve come. Yer bruder Clyde wants to talk to you tomorrow. He called Chuck from the factory, and Chuck said you’ll be able to start Monday.”

  “Ne.” The word blurted from Jathan’s mouth. “I know Dat thought that would be the best — would help everyone out, but I don’t want to do that.”

  I have to fight for this. Fight for Sarah. Fight for our dream. He only wished he’d realized that before he’d left — had been able to tell her.

  Mem’s eyes widened, and her mouth dropped open. Her fingers fiddled with her apron and then she looked at her husband. Jathan read the expression on her face. If yer Dat were able to talk, he’d have something to say about that.

  “I had a long train ride home from Montana, and I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. You know me, Mem. You — more than anyone — know what I truly enjoy.”

  She narrowed her gaze, as if worried about what he was going to say next. Jathan didn’t let that stop him.

  “What I’d really like to do is help at the bakery. Some things need to be fixed on the building. I can help with the orders and make deliveries around town. I’d thought about selling furniture in the bakery, too, but something even better came up. When I was on the train, there was a man who asked if we’d be able to ship orders to stores in New York.”

  Mem raised her hands and waved away Jathan’s words. Then she shook her head back and forth. “And how are we going to do that yet? We can hardly keep up with the orders we have. I’m not a spring chicken anymore, you know.”

  Jathan scooted closer. “Ja, I was thinking of that too. If you and Aunt Kay are freed from the business duties, you’ll have more time to bake. And instead of working at the factory, I can help you with that part.”

  There was movement in the bedroom doorway, and for the first time, Jathan realized Yonnie had walked in. A scowl crossed Yonnie’s face, showing he’d overheard.

  “And what would Dat think of that?” Yonnie asked.

  “What would he think of me providing for his wife and other members of the family? I think he would like that idea.

  “Wait, let me rephrase that,” Jathan continued. “Dat wouldn’t like that I didn’t obey his directive, but he’d change his mind once he saw the bills being paid.” Jathan stood and approached his brother. Though Jathan was younger, he stood at least four inches taller than Yonnie. “Isn’t that the point of the factory job? Fer me to bring in money, income? Is the source as important as the result?”

  “You have high hopes, Jathan, foolish dreams. They are but two women,” Yonnie muttered. “They surely cannot make enough …”

  “I have an idea.” Jathan glanced at Mem. He straightened his shoulders, determined to speak his mind, even though he noted how pale she was.

  “I met a young woman back in Montana. She’s a gut baker, and she mentioned that she’d love to come to Berlin. Maybe she’d like to come and help us pick up our business?”

  “Sarah Shelter?” Mem asked.

  “Ja.” His eyes widened. “How did you know?”

  “Son, a letter arrived today. It beat you home. It must be important if she paid to have it delivered in one day. You should have known that yer mother would pay attention to the name on the return label, especially one written in a pretty script.”

  Heat rose to his cheeks. Yes, he should have known better. Not much got past Mem.

  “A woman?” Yonnie spit the words out as if they were poison in his mouth. “You have a woman writing you? Is that what you were doing while I’ve been here trying to keep the shop going? Trying to provide?” Yonnie balled his hands into fists. “Jest what did you do in Montana? Wait, don’t tell me. I don’t want to know. And I wouldn’t let word get out none either. Not when yer intended is here —”

  “My intended?” Jathan was used to letting his older brother rant. Yonnie liked to put his youngest brother in his place often, but this … “I have no intended. Do you honestly think I’d have one woman here while I’m spending time with another in Montana?”

  “Ja, there is a woman. Don’t be lying to my face, Jathan.” Yonnie pointed a finger at Jathan’s chest. “Anna Troyer is in the same quilting circle as my Leah.”

  “Anna Troyer?” Jathan shook his head and turned to Mem. “See what you started, Mem? She honestly does not still believe that, does she?”

  Mem twirled one of her kapp strings around her finger, as she always did when she was nervous. “If she does, it’s none of my doing. I haven’t spoken of such a thing with her mother recently.”

  “Recently?” Jathan cocked an eyebrow.

  Mem crossed her arms over her ample chest. “Well, not since you left for Montana.”

  Jathan released a sigh. “And what did you say then?”

  “I jest told her mother that my guess was you were going for the hunting since I doubted there could be anyone as lovely as Anna in those parts.”

  Jathan rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands, wishing he could wipe away her words.

  Yonnie rubbed the back of his neck. “So yer not marrying Anna now?”

  Jathan lowered his hands and shook his head. The room around him blurred slightly, then cleared. Frustration tightened the veins of his neck, but he told himself not to take it out on Mem. She was just an old woman who wished to see her youngest son happy.

  “ne. I’ve never thought of marrying Anna,” Jathan answered. “Ever since Anna and I were babies, Mem and Mrs. Troyer have joked that we’d get married someday. I got used to the teasing, but obviously someone took it more serious like.”

  Mem fanned her face with her hand. “Ja, but you have to admit Anna Troyer is a lovely girl.”

  “Some may consider her lovely, but she’s not the type of woman I’d consider spending my life with.” Instead, Sarah’s face filled Jathan’s mind. Sarah was lovely as well, to be sure, with her blonde hair and light eyes, but there was more to her than that. She had a playful side and didn’t take herself too seriously. She also followed their Amish traditions without taking those none too serious either, if that were possible. She followed their directives without focusing more on the rules than the intent behind them.

  Mostly, it was her love of God that drew Jathan in. To Sarah, following God wasn’t just something she did because it’s what the community did. She loved God and spoke of him through her love. Jathan knew he wanted his children raised by a mother like that. He, too, wanted to walk through life with a woman such as her.

  “Where’s Sarah’s letter?” he asked Mem.

  “On the kitchen counter in the big house — in yer house.”

  Jathan nodded and glanced out the window. Moonlight illuminated the two-story white home. It filled his vision, and he pictured the empty rooms inside and the expansive living and dining room that had hosted many church services. He knew about the windows that needed to be fixed. The floorboards that creaked. And that was only the start. It was the only home he’d ever known. And caring for it — for his family too — was his responsibility now.

  “Do you think it will work, Sarah coming?” Mem asked.

  Jathan looked back at her and prepared to answer, but
then he saw she was focused on Dat. Talking to him instead.

  No answer came, of course, but a smile curled on Mem’s lips. She turned her attention back to Jathan.

  “If you think this Sarah Shelter would come, I’d love to meet her. I sure could use some gut help in the bakery. I’ve been saying that to Dat for a while. I think yer business sense could help much too.”

  Jathan’s heart pounded from her words. His stomach flipped and danced. Did she just say what he thought she said? Did she approve? Would he really be able to run the business side of the bakery and also invite Sarah to come?

  Yonnie grunted his disapproval. He shook his head and then stomped out of the room.

  Jathan had figured on this reaction. Yonnie would never be happy about letting Jathan work at the bakery instead of getting a factory job, but even as Jathan had thought about it on the train, he’d hoped Mem would be swayed if she knew a beautiful woman would be involved, one he was clearly interested in.

  “So what is this Sarah Shelter like?” Mem asked, no louder than a whisper.

  “Let me see.” He stroked his chin. “She loves God. She cares fer people. She’s beautiful … and she’s a fine baker.”

  Mem tilted her head. “And she cares for you?”

  Jathan smiled. “Ja.”

  “And you think she’d come?”

  He answered her with his widening smile. “I believe so, although I should go see what the letter has to say.”

  Mem stretched out her hand. He grasped it. “Then, son, I believe we’re in business together. I trust you, I really do, and if you think this will work —”

  “I think this will work, Mem.”

  “Then you better go read that letter and then get some rest. We have plans to make tomorrow. Big plans.”

  Dear Jathan,

  You left today. Just writing those words brings tears to my eyes. After you left, I thought of one hundred things I wanted to say. Edgar’s the one who urged me to write some of them down and get this note sent before the two o’clock mail pickup. He said he’d personally make sure the letter got to you in a timely manner.