by Tricia Goyer
A cold wave washed over Sarah. “How did her husband die?”
“Cancer. He was having headaches and finally went to a doctor in Columbus. There was a tumor — nothing they could do. He was gone jest like that.”
“Gone jest like that.” Sarah’s heart ached, but the sadness didn’t overwhelm her like it used to. “It’s very sad. I can go with you if you’d like, to offer some encouragement.”
“No, you should rest. It’s been a long day. You must be so tired.” Her aunt patted her hand. “Why don’t you head to bed? The girls and I will finish this up.”
Normally Sarah would refuse the offer, but she found herself nodding. After giving her aunt a quick hug, she hurried to her room.
She lifted her fingers to her kapp, lifting it from her head. Death.
She hadn’t thought much if it before losing Patty.
Old people died.
Englisch people died in automobile accidents. In Montana, the white crosses that dotted the side of the highways proved that. She’d counted them whenever she rode along with an Englisch driver on their way to Eureka or Kalispell.
But there was no white cross at the edge of Lake Koocanusa. Sarah didn’t need one to remember. Months after Patty’s death, people had still been talking about it, but then, after that, it was as if no one remembered except Sarah. Others had gone on with their normal lives, and Sarah had gone on with her life, too, even though it pained her to do so.
Death.
Sarah looked at her memory jar. It sat on the unfamiliar dresser, and she hadn’t had time to look at its contents since she’d arrived. So certain the jars would get broken on the trip, she’d transferred one of her jars and Patty’s into plastic peanut butter jars. She’d scraped most of the labels off, but bits of paper still stuck to where they had been glued.
Sarah pulled out a few items that were sitting on top of the pile in Patty’s plastic jar. An acorn, a feather, a chunk of wood. They were all dead. The fact shocked Sarah in a way she couldn’t explain. What she carried around were symbols of the life they used to have — the growth and beauty.
Is that what I’ve been doing? Looking back at the life that used to be, rather than looking ahead to the life that could be?
Too often she’d focused on what she’d lost, rather than what Patty had found. Patty had loved God, had had faith in him. And the more Sarah thought about the word faith, the more she realized it was all about looking ahead.
I am Lord over the beginning and Lord over the end. Trust me, child.
The words came as a gentle whisper to her heart. She grasped the chair for support. The end.
Years ago, when Sarah had started reading her Bible, she discovered that to have a new life in Christ, she had to accept his death.
Now she had a feeling that to live the life Jesus was calling her to, she had to accept that death would come — to her and those she loved — but it was life she needed to focus on.
She had to be willing to trust that God protected her heart and had a good plan for her, for Jathan, and maybe for them together.
Sixteen-year-old Sarah sat up with a start. The first things she noticed were the light all around her and the scent of wildflowers on the breeze. Her cheek felt damp, and she touched it. Only then did she remember. When her eyes adjusted, she noticed Patty sitting on the grass beside her. They’d been sitting in the meadow under the shade of a tall pine, and she must have drifted off to sleep.
Patty pointed to her face. “You drooled.”
Sarah wiped at it. “Ja, I suppose I did.” Then she closed her eyes and smiled.
“Tell me about it.” Patty scooted closer.
“About what?”
“The dream. It was a good one, and I want to hear all the details.”
Sarah plucked a blade of grass from the soft earth and twirled it between her fingers. “How do you know it was good?”
“Uh, maybe because it looks as if you’ve swallowed a bag of sugar and it’s sweetened you up. Sweet smile and sweet lashes that are fluttering as if you’ve jest seen the most handsome Amish man ever.”
Sarah leaned back again and folded her arms behind her head. “I did.” Then she stretched her arms as far above her as she could reach and her toes as far as she could stretch as if it would take every inch of her to fully absorb the beauty of the dream she’d just had. “Well, I didn’t see him, not fully, but he was handsome all the same.”
“Really?” Patty scooted so close her knee jabbed into Sarah’s ribs.
A pain shot up Sarah’s side, and she pushed against Patty’s knee. “Ach, watch yerself. Behave or I won’t tell you.”
“Ja, you’ll tell me, Sarah Shelter, for you haven’t been able to keep a secret from me yet.”
Sarah pressed her lips together and closed her eyes. She waited for Patty to beg, but instead her friend just sat there, staring. Sarah couldn’t see her gaze, because her own eyes were closed, but she could feel it. Patty’s stare was so intense, Sarah was sure she’d be able to feel it if Patty were halfway across the state.
“Ja, okay, I’ll tell.” She opened her eyes and sat up, unable to take the tension any longer.
“There was a gate.”
“Ja.”
“And a white picket fence.”
“Ja.”
“And a man by my side who was leading me through it.”
“What was inside the gate?” Patty’s eyes focused intently on Sarah’s, as if she were trying to look into her brain and see for herself.
Sarah furrowed her brow, attempting to remember. “I’m not sure, a flower garden maybe? Something beautiful fer sure, but that’s not the part I remember most. I jest remember he was an Amish man — my Amish man — and he loved me more than anyone ever has. And he walked with pride when I was at his side, like I was more valuable than the gate or the garden beyond or anything in the world.”
“Is he yer future husband?”
Sarah nodded. “I think he is.”
“Are you sure you didn’t get a good look at him? ‘Cause, if so, that will save you a heap of trouble trying to figure out jest who is the one.”
“No. I’m not sure I looked at him, saw him much at all. It was jest a feeling I had. A sense deep inside.”
“I wish you could have at least seen if his hair was dark or light.”
Sarah shrugged. “Would it matter? Would his looks matter at all if he treats me like that? Cares for me like that? Like I was more important than anything else — anything but God, of course.”
She turned over onto her side and looked full into Patty’s face. “I think that’s how I’ll know my future husband when the time is right. There will be this sense that he knows me — really knows who I am inside — and he’ll love me fer myself, because of who I am.”
“I think that’s something gut to hang onto,” Patty grinned. “‘Cause you wouldn’t want a husband who jest loved you for yer baking … and with those pies you’ve been making lately, I can see that happening.”
Sarah chuckled. “Ne, he must love me fer much more than that. Much, much more.”
CHAPTER
26
Over the next week, Our Daily Bread picked up in business, but Sarah wasn’t sure if it was because of the remodeling in the bakery, the new bakery items, or if they’d all come to see the young woman who’d caught Jathan Schrock’s interest.
“Where are you from, dear?” one older Amish woman asked. She’d been in the bakery the last two mornings, ordering a buttermilk pie and two maple cupcakes each day. From the slight smile on the woman’s face, Sarah had a feeling only the pie made it to the dinner table each evening.
“West Kootenai, Montana, ma’am.”
The woman picked up her items as gingerly as if she carried fine china. “I’ve read about the Rexford community in The Budget. Is West Kootenai near there?”
“Oh, ja, the West Kootenai is right across the lake from Rexford. In fact, we have a Rexford address.”
“Oh, my,
then you must have heard. There was an Amish woman who was lost in those mountains jest last month. Did you hear about that?”
“Ja, uh …”
Two hands grasped her shoulders. “Did you not know? This is the young woman, and it was my Jathan who rescued her from the forest. She could have died up there.” Mrs. Schrock spoke loud enough for everyone in the store to hear.
The older woman’s mouth circled in an O. “Oh, my. Were you scared, dear?”
“Ja.”
The woman’s unblinking eyes grew round. “Were you hurt?”
“Well, my ankle —”
“How wonderful for a man like that to be there at the right time.”
“I had a friend whose niece got lost once. She’d been on her way to school and a squirrel running through the trees caught her attention,” another Amish woman, no taller than Sarah’s shoulder, declared.
“Did they find her again?” The first woman reached out and grasped Sarah’s arm. “We know how dangerous getting lost can be, even if yer not a kind.”
“Oh, ja, but it was late at night when they found her, and she was frightfully cold.” The second woman turned to Sarah, lifting her head to meet her gaze. “Were you frightfully cold, dear?”
“For a time I was,” Sarah said with forced patience. “Until Jathan lit the fire.”
The women gasped and nodded their approval as if that was the most wonderful thing they’d ever heard.
“I’m sure the fire did much to help them both,” the taller woman said to her friend. “Not only to warm their bodies but to lift their spirits too. Don’t you think?”
Sarah nodded as the women continued, not that they noticed. They spoke about Jathan and the situation as if she weren’t there.
As the customers talked with each other, they also ordered bread and rolls and bought the last of Sarah’s cupcakes. Without a pause, Mrs. Schrock bagged up the items and handed them over. The women paid and stepped away from the counter, continuing to talk with each other as they did.
Sarah chuckled, watching the way the women’s stories jumped from subject to subject with everyone being able to follow along. The Amish in Montana didn’t buy as many baked goods — instead making the items themselves — but she heard the same type of talk at ice-cream socials and quilting circles. One spark of an idea led to another thought, and soon each woman was carrying on a conversation with a dozen people at once, but mostly with herself.
Sarah walked into the kitchen and the voices followed her through the large, open window that Jathan and Yonnie had made. She smiled, reminding herself she’d asked for it. Reminding herself she was the only one to blame if she had no relief from the constant chatter.
“Sarah, dear, will you be making any more cupcakes today?” A voice called from behind her. She glanced back, not knowing which woman asked, but all looked to her with eager faces.
“Well, I’ve never heard of Amish cupcakes being so popular,” Mrs. Schrock said with a forced smile. “But I suppose Sarah can make more of those instead of the cinnamon rolls.”
A murmur of approval rose up, followed by declarations that the women would be back later that afternoon. Sarah went back to wash the cupcake pans she’d used, but out of the corner of her eye, she watched Jathan’s mother. Her smile faded as soon as the women moved to the door.
When the last woman left, Aunt Kay walked up and placed a hand on Mrs. Schrock’s shoulder. “I’ve never heard of Amish cupcakes. Cupcakes in the Englisch bakery in town, ja, but here?”
A twinge of anxiety struck Sarah’s heart. They had no idea she could hear them. Her embarrassment was tinged with a distant shame. She thought back to that day years ago when Patty had brought her those magazines with fancy cupcakes, the very magazines that ended up in the trash.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with cupcakes,” she mumbled to herself. They had the same ingredients as the other items she made. The only difference was the flavorings and the thin layer of vanilla bean frosting on top.
Jest as long as I don’t do any fancy decorating — at least not fer sale. Aunt Lynette’s birthday was coming later in the month, and Sarah planned on decorating one cupcake to match the violets her aunt liked so. Tomorrow, she had the afternoon off. Maybe she could visit the cooking store down the street for ideas.
She’d just begun to gather the items for another batch of chocolate cupcakes when the back door opened. She turned just in time to see Jathan enter with a young woman by his side. She looked to be about fifteen years old, and Sarah guessed she was already done with school.
“Sarah!” Excitement filled Jathan’s face and he rushed over. “I was doing the books last night and business has already picked up fifty percent in a week.”
“You don’t have to tell me.” She wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. “I’m already working on another large batch of cupcakes and it’s only ten o’clock.”
She turned to the young woman. “I’m sorry that Jathan forgot an introduction.” She winked. “I’m Sarah, and I’m guessing yer related, because I see a hint of dimples on yer face too.”
“Ja, I’m his niece Catherine. I’ll be yer dishwasher.”
“Dishwasher? Jathan, are you sure? That’s taking away half my job —”
He laughed. “Ach, which means more time for cupcakes … if our town can handle such a thing.” He nodded to his niece. “Sorry I forgot the introduction. Catherine is my brother Otto’s oldest girl.”
“Girl? She’s a woman yet.” Sarah pointed to the pile of dishes in the sink. “And that’s a woman’s work fer sure.”
Catherine smiled and stood straighter. In a way, she reminded Sarah of her friend Jenny, and she liked her immediately.
“Gut, keep Catherine busy. And speaking of busy, do you mind if I take away Mem and Aunt Kay for just fifteen minutes? Mr. Bell at the print shop wants to talk to them both about writing a cookbook.”
Hearing their names, the older women hurried into the kitchen.
“A cookbook? Did I overhear that?” Aunt Kay pressed a hand to her chest. “Aren’t we getting fancy now?”
“Not fancy, jest smart. Baked goods you produce every day, but a book is written once and sold over and over.”
“But if we give out our recipes, won’t people stop coming?” Aunt Kay asked.
“Jest the opposite. They’ll hear about you, want to meet you, and come from farther away, don’t you think, Sarah?”
“Oh, ja. I love the idea.” She did love the idea, but she couldn’t help but think about Patty’s cookbook. She’d tucked it away in her trunk back in Montana. “A cookbook is a treasure … and I’d be happy to watch over the store. Catherine’s here too, of course.”
“Fine then.” Jathan led the older women to the back door. “We’ll head to the printer and you get more cupcakes out, Sarah Shelter.” Her name rolled off his tongue as if he’d said it a hundred times. “And be thinking about yer own recipes too. I have a feeling they’re going to be some of our most popular items.”
Jathan and the older women hadn’t been gone more than five minutes when the front door opened and a woman who looked to be Sarah’s age entered. The woman was a dark-haired beauty with skin as perfectly flawless as a white pearl. She wore Amish dress and kapp but carried herself like a queen. Not that Sarah’d ever seen a queen, but the woman walked as Sarah expected a queen to walk.
Instead of gazing at the items in the display case, as most customers did, the woman focused on Sarah. She cocked one eyebrow and moved her gaze over Sarah’s dress and kapp. Sarah couldn’t help but touch her kapp in response, certain it was askew from the look the woman gave her.
“Can I help you?”
“I’m Anna.” She stretched out her hand. “I have heard yer in town. Heard yer a friend of Jathan’s.”
“Ja.” Sarah’s skin felt pricked by a thousand pine needles. “We met in Montana.”
“I heard that too.” Anna glanced at the display case and then tossed her head as if bothered
by the presence of the bakery items. “Is Jathan here?” She peeked behind Sarah to the kitchen.
“Uh, ne. He’s … gone. Can I give him a message?”
Anna nodded. “I’m certain he stopped by my place, but I’ve been out of town. My sister had twins just two weeks ago. A boy and a girl. The most beautiful kinner I’ve ever laid eyes on.”
Sarah nodded, believing that. “So have you known Jathan long?” She forced a smile, reminding herself she planned on being in this community a while. Reminding herself to be polite.
“Know him? Is that what you asked?” Anna placed a hand on her dress collar. “Didn’t you know? Jathan and I have been planning on marrying fer as long as I can remember. But we put off our decision fer a year — with him going to Montana to hunt and all.” Anna’s eyes shimmered.
Sarah stood there for a long moment. Her knees trembled and a sharp pain landed between her shoulder blades. “ne. I didn’t know.” She tried to sound casual, but her hands reached for the cleaning rag behind the counter and proceeded to wipe down the already-clean surface. Anna took a step closer to the counter, but Sarah found herself hesitant to look at her, lest Anna see the pain in her eyes.
“Ja, well, no one really knows these things — not until the invitations are sent — but one can guess, can’t they? If you look in our garden, you’ll see my Mem has already planted the celery — hundreds of stalks. Their green leaves have jest begun pushing up from the ground, but I can already imagine what they’ll look like by fall.”
While the custom wasn’t done in Montana, Sarah remembered the tradition from growing up in Kentucky. Brides used stalks of celery to decorate the tables at their wedding dinner and observant folks always knew who would be marrying next just by glancing at their neighbors’ gardens.
“Ja, well, I’ll tell him you stopped by. I’m sure he’ll be happy to see yer in town. He shouldn’t be gone long.” An image flashed in Sarah’s mind of Jathan and this woman sitting side by side on a front porch swing, similar to the one at Aunt Lynette’s house. Jealousy caused her neck to grow warm. Anger tightened her shoulders. Why hadn’t he told her? She’d even asked him if there was someone special back in the West Kootenai. He’d denied it, but this woman seemed very real.