by Tricia Goyer
She looked at Jathan and waited for him to see her. Jathan’s eyes scanned the train’s doorways until finally he saw her. He waved and strode over to her with quick steps. During the passing miles, Sarah had worried whether there would be any awkwardness between them. She didn’t have to worry for long. Jathan rushed forward and paused before her, smiling. Sarah’s knees softened to see his smile once again.
“You made it.”
“Ja, jest a little late.”
He smiled, studying her face. “Not bad. Jest an hour or so.” He blew out a breath as if not believing she was really here. “Yer worth the wait.”
She grinned. How had everything changed so quickly? Just last month, she’d hardly spoken to him. Now there was no place she’d rather be than here, and no one she’d prefer to be with than him.
“Do you have a suitcase?”
“Not a suitcase, but two boxes taped up real gut. I hope that won’t be a problem. Mem helped me pack. Since I’m staying a while, she wanted to make sure I had what I needed.”
“Staying a while.” Jathan motioned to a van parked near the road. “I like that.”
The driver helped them load her things, and soon they were off.
Jathan sat beside her on the bench seat behind the driver. She tilted her head slightly, studying him in the dim light. He looked the same as when he’d left, but there was a heaviness about him she hadn’t noticed before. He look tired, worried.
“How’s yer Dat?” She studied Jathan’s profile as the driver pulled out.
He shrugged. “The same. A home health nurse came by earlier today. She says he’s being cared fer well, but there’s no real improvement. I overheard her talking to Mem. She said some people never change and jest get weaker and weaker …” He let his voice trail off. “But others, well … The nurse said some of her patients sit up and start talking eventually. Mem hopes that’ll be the case.”
Sarah bit her bottom lip and nodded.
Jathan settled back against the seat. He folded his arms over his chest and stretched out his legs between the driver and passenger seats and crossed his ankles.
“You know, I was thinking about it. I learned a lot about yer Mem, yer brieder, Berlin, and the community during our talk in the forest, but you didn’t talk much about your Dat.”
“I didn’t? Maybe you drifted off during that part,” he mumbled.
She wrinkled her nose. “Did I? That’s possible. Or maybe it was because you didn’t talk about him much fer some reason …”
He looked at her as if he were assessing her. Was he wondering what he should tell? She glanced at the driver. Was having him here limiting Jathan’s words?
In Montana, they had only a few drivers, and Sarah considered them friends, but this driver — he hadn’t said more than hello to her after she’d gotten into the van and he hadn’t said much to Jathan either. Maybe Jathan was trying to figure out what he could say in front of the driver without having it spread around the community.
He cleared his throat. “Dat was a hardworking man, respected in the community. We have a small farm and a woodworking workshop behind our house. My oldest bruder, Yonnie, works with Dat. Many stores in the area sell his furniture. They take special orders … or at least used to take special orders.”
“That sounds wonderful. Do you do woodwork —”
“Some.” The word was out before she even finished asking her question. “But I was never any good at that. Let’s not bring it up.” He looked at her and offered a smile. “Don’t you want to look around and see Ohio, Sarah?” He pointed out the window. “It’s very different from Montana, but jest as beautiful.”
“Ja.” She nodded and turned her attention out the window. They drove through countryside and even though there were no buggies out at this hour, she could imagine the clip-clop of slow horses and the rasp of buggy wheels on the gravel lane.
She was thankful for the round, full moon, which cast a warm glow over the countryside, giving her a view of the place she’d be calling home — at least for a time. Maybe … maybe for a lifetime.
“Are the farms here in Ohio quite large?”
“Not as large as they used to be. Many family farms have given way to new houses on small tracts of land. It’s not busy like you’d suspect though. It’s still tranquil there. Not as quiet as the West Kootenai, of course, but many people come back every year to visit Holmes County. It’s because of the visitors that I think our bakery will do well.”
“Ja, I remember.” She wrinkled her nose. “I didn’t come all this way jest to bake, Jathan. I’ve come to help you fulfill yer dream.”
He reached over and took her hand, and she scooted closer to him so their shoulders touched. Neither said a word for a while, but they didn’t need to. She’d entered his world, and they were both content to just be together and soak it in.
After fifteen minutes, Jathan leaned forward and peered out the window. “This is the edge of our community here.”
Sarah nodded but didn’t see a difference. She saw the same types of farms, similar layouts of the property with houses and barns and shops surrounded by fields and pastures. Yet while she didn’t see the difference, she felt it. It was as if an electric charge now radiated from Jathan, causing Sarah’s heart to beat extra fast.
Outside the van window, windmills stretched their arms into the night air, some still slowly turning, and Sarah knew from what Dat had told her that they powered water pumps. What did Jathan’s house look like? Was it as large as the ones on these farms?
In Montana, their log homes were small, their barns were small, and their farms were small. Here, they were driving past houses that seemed big enough to fit the West Kootenai Kraft and Grocery, the West Kootenai school, and Sarah’s house inside all at once.
“What are all those little white boxes next to the houses?” she asked Jathan.
“They’re birdhouses for purple martins. In the daytime, they look like small apartment buildings on poles.” Jathan chuckled. “Of course, I didn’t see many apartment buildings in the West Kootenai.”
“Ne, ne, but I know what yer talking about. I have seen some apartments in Kalispell. And on the train …” Her eyes widened. “I saw things from the train I’d only read about in books. In Chicago, I saw a skyscraper. It was cloudy out and the top of it really reached into the clouds — jest like my little sister’s favorite book, Jack and the Beanstalk.”
“Do you miss them, Evelyn and Andy?”
“Ja. How could I not? But with all the hours I used to work at the store, well … I haven’t spent as much time with them as I wish I could have. Even though I jest got here, I can see that things are different here than in Montana. In Montana, we all had to pull together, work together to make enough money to survive the long winters.”
“Ach, there are wealthy Amish here, to be sure, but the people care fer each other too. They’re generous. Living here, you’ll discover that relief auctions are common. Last year, we raised over a million dollars to help needy causes, including sending money to Haiti. My Mem and sisters made three quilts each through the year and donated them.”
Heat rose to Sarah’s face as she remembered her and Patty’s quilt. They’d created a yellow and blue design, and it had turned out beautiful, much to their surprise. Where was that quilt now?
Sarah forced a sad smile, turning her attention back to the conversation at hand. “A million dollars of relief raised, imagine that,” she said. “Maybe fer the next auction, I’ll donate some cupcakes. It’ll be a gut excuse to bake some of my favorites.”
“Ach, believe me, Sarah. You’ll have plenty of excuses to bake. I have a feeling that after people take a single bite of one of yer cupcakes, the line will be out the door.”
“Please, Jathan, are you trying to make me a prideful woman? I do what I do because God gifted me with this ability. If I can bring joy to customers, well, it’s my way of pointing them to God.”
Like a light, she thought. No matter whe
re she was, she could find a way to brighten someone’s day. Holmes County was filled with good, Amish folks, but surely there had to be at least one person who needed some brightness, who needed a bit of joy. Sarah would pray for God to lead her to them. To use her in such a way.
As Sarah considered that, she glanced at Jathan. There was a tightness in his jaw she hadn’t seen in Montana. She knew he was carrying both the burden of caring for his family and worry about his father’s health, and they had to be a heavy load.
We’ll start with him, Lord, she thought. We’ll start with him.
CHAPTER
22
Sarah removed her kapp and apron and moved around the bedroom. Her aunt, uncle, and cousins were already in bed when she’d arrived, but they’d left her a plate of food on the table and a note telling her which room they’d prepared for her. Sarah didn’t need the note though. There was only one door down the hall that was open and a lantern burned inside the room.
Aunt Lynette had been excited when Sarah asked if she could come. Her aunt had always complained that because her sisters lived in different states, her nieces and nephews were like strangers. She’d been thrilled at the chance to get to know her niece better.
Her aunt and uncle’s house was small and had seen better years, but it was clean. Uncle Ivan worked at an organic farm down the road and Aunt Lynette cared for their seven children.
Even though Sarah’s heart felt light and full, her eyelids were heavy. By pushing down with two hands, she tested the mattress and then moved her boxes from where they sat by the door onto a trunk by the bed. She knew better than to consider unpacking her things into the trunk. Even though Aunt Lynette’s oldest daughter was only six — with three older brothers — Sarah guessed the trunk was already starting to fill with blankets, linens, and other various things a young woman would need upon marriage. Sara had a similar trunk at home. But much to her mother’s dismay, Sarah had often spent more time exploring the hills with Patty than sitting home with embroidery.
Patty.
What would Patty think of Sarah being here? Patty no doubt would have cheered on the move, especially with Sarah’s hopes of finding love with Jathan. She probably would have mourned the fact they were so far apart, but then again, if Patty were still alive, at least they could have exchanged letters.
A new thought hit Sarah as she considered her friend. What had happened to Patty’s hope chest? Her lower lip quivered as Sarah considered that perhaps the towels still sat neatly folded in the trunk rather than drying dishes after a family meal.
Then again, the chest had been far from full. Patty had often complained about having to sit on the porch and sew tiny stitches with thread and needle when she was more interested in visiting the beavers in the pond behind her house.
Sarah attempted to open her boxes as quietly as she could, but the packing tape still sounded like a roaring river as it ripped away from the cardboard. She knew what box she wanted to check first. Sarah took out two objects wrapped in paper. She was careful as she unwrapped them, and she released a sigh of relief when she saw that neither of the jars were broken. One jar was hers, the other Patty’s. After she’d received Patty’s jar from Mem, Sarah had repacked her boxes, bringing Patty’s jar with her instead of one of her own. Now she set both jars on top of the dresser. Then she opened the other box and found her nightgown and sleeping kerchief.
Preparing to climb into bed, Sarah planned on turning down the lantern, but then she changed her mind. Not yet. She had one more thing she wanted to do.
Sarah went to the living room and found the matches. When she returned, she dug the small candle out of Patty’s jar and set it in the candle stand. She lit it and only then did she dim the lantern’s light. The candle’s flame flickered and danced, and Sarah smiled, knowing that the last time it had been lit, she’d been with Patty and the room had smelled of pine needles. It made Sarah feel closer to her friend. It made her feel as if she were sharing this moment with her.
And it was at this exact moment that Sarah knew Jathan was a man she could marry, and Holmes County, Ohio, was a community she could plant herself in for life. Seeing him again tonight and the way he’d brushed his fingers down her cheek and told her to have sweet dreams told her it was so.
Jathan sat on the sofa in the living room of his parents’ farmhouse and tried to let it sink in that Sarah was really here. If he had a choice, both of them would still be in Montana where he’d have more time to get to know her without the pressures of business and family needs weighing him down. Of course, Jathan didn’t have a choice.
He lowered his face into his hands. Tomorrow was the day both he and Sarah were to start at the bakery, but every time he considered the joy of them working together, a heavier burden weighed him down.
“I can’t ignore this anymore. I have to face it,” Jathan said out loud.
Honor your father and your mother. The words played through his thoughts. They were a foundation to all that the Amish believed. He’d never followed Englisch ways, yet was that any worse than Jathan purposefully setting into action what he knew his father would despise?
But to honor them … Did that mean he should tell Mem he’d go to the factory after all? Tell Sarah he’d changed his mind and he wouldn’t be working with her?
He rose and headed out the back door, knowing what he had to do.
Jathan stood on the walk that led to the back of the dawdi house. The light from the lantern in his parents’ room lit the shrubs that bordered the back of the house, and Jathan pictured Mem there with Dat. Sitting by him, sharing her day. Were Dat’s eyes open? Did he look at her? Did he understand her words? That’s what bothered Jathan most. It was bad enough that his father was only a shell of who he used to be, but … was his mind still active while trapped in an unresponsive body?
Before the stroke, his father couldn’t sit still for five minutes. Now was he lying there worrying about the shop? About the orders? Did he wonder if the tourists were in a buying mood this year? Did he long to head out back, take in the woody scents of his shop, and get lost in a piece of maple?
Jathan walked with slow steps, thinking about how often he’d wished his father would talk less and just listen for a while. His father always had his plans figured out without taking time to hear what others thought about those ideas.
Now all he could do was listen.
The roofline loomed overhead, blocking out the moonlight. Jathan paused, then moved into the shadows, taking the back porch steps one at a time.
He stuck his hands deep into his pockets.
He entered as quietly as he could, but didn’t have to worry about waking Mem. She sat at the kitchen table with books spread open before her. She had dark circles under her eyes, but she was also smiling. It was the first time he’d seen her smile since he’d been back. During his growing-up years, Mem was the last to go to bed, the first to rise. It was nearly one o’clock. Was it hard for her to go to bed without Dat sleeping in the bed beside her? He imagined it would be.
Mem eyed him, and then she nodded and smiled. “Ja, she’s here.”
Jathan removed his hat and put it on the coatrack. Then he ran a hand down his face, trying to hide the smile that had sprouted at Mem’s words. “How can you tell?”
“I can read it all over yer face.”
He lowered his head and scuffed his foot against the wooden floor.
Mem chuckled. “She’s a gut baker now, is she? Is that why you wanted her here?”
He sat down at the table, next to Mem. “Ja, Sarah is a gut baker. I know you’ll approve, but I’ve never been able to hide anything from you. Even as a little boy.” He forced a smile, and he hoped Mem couldn’t see what else he was thinking about. The truth was, there were some things he’d hidden from her. He’d been surprised she never asked why one day — as a child — he’d changed from sitting in the kitchen with her to staying outside all day with his brothers. Did she think the change had come of his own accord?
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“Well, I’m excited to meet her. Will she be in the bakery in the morn?” Mem asked.
“Ja, but not at five o’clock. I told her to sleep in, to rest, and come in at eight.”
“Eight o’clock?” Mem gasped the same as if he’d have told her Sarah would be driving a car to work.
“It’s all gut.” He covered Mem’s hand with his. “I jest thought she’d like a little time to visit with her aunt and cousins, that’s all. She’s a hard worker, I promise. If anything, we’ll have to tell her to slow down.”
“I figured that. I can’t imagine you with any other type of woman, and I find it exciting to see what recipes she brings. I’ve been looking through my books to find some of the favorites I’ve written down over time. If we’re going to work together and build our business, I thought it would be nice to add a few more treats to what we’re already selling.” Mem’s brow furrowed. “Jest as long as we don’t change things too much.”
“ne, of course not. There have been enough changes around here.” Wasn’t that just like life, to always be changing? And as sad as the fact was, life never seemed to offer up too much good all at once without having to add in bad too.
“Sunlight and shade,” his oma had commented once. Jathan liked that, mostly because shade meant that even though things were dim for a time, the sun was still there, just on the other side of the barrier.
As if seeing his sinking spirits, Mem opened the cookbook wider and pointed to a page with sticky rolls. “Did ya see these? Don’t they look gut?”
“I suppose they do.” His eyes darted from the cookbook to the door of his parents’ bedroom — the real reason he’d come — and then he looked back at the page. As much as he’d like to sit here and discuss recipes, it was getting late. He wouldn’t be able to sleep unless he said his piece.