The Memory Jar

by Tricia Goyer

  “What if he changes his mind?”

  “He’ll never change his mind.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I jest know. Why do you have to ask so many questions? Why do you have to push fer change, Sarah? Why can’t you jest accept things fer how they are?”

  Sarah cocked her chin and narrowed her gaze. “I want to know the truth, Jathan. The thing you’ve been wanting to tell me but haven’t. I see fear in yer eyes. Real fear. And I want to know where it comes from.”

  “I know Dat will never change his mind because …” His voice caught in his throat. “He told me when I was jest a boy and he hasn’t changed his mind.”

  Jathan moved over and leaned against a wooden fence post, as if needing the extra support to keep him up. Sarah could tell that whatever he was about to say would be hard, and she forced herself to be still and wait for his words.

  “I was working in the bakery with Mem,” he finally said. “It was early on a Saturday. I was feeling better and could get around on my leg jest fine, but I went in with her anyway. I loved being there.”

  She nodded to let him know she was listening.

  “Mem had run down to the store to get some milk. She needed it for the chocolate pies. I was crimping pie crusts fer her, preparing to put them into the oven. Dat —” Jathan’s voice trembled. “Dat came in. At first, fear filled his gaze. He’d gotten up early knowing Mem was away. He went up to my room to rouse me fer morning chores, but I wasn’t there. His worry turned to fury when he saw me with those pie crusts.” Jathan lowered his head. “Before I knew what was happening, he picked me up and threw me across the kitchen, an-and then he picked up a glass pie plate and hurled it at my head.”

  Jathan touched the scar over his eyebrow. “He called me a sissy. He said no son of his would work in a kitchen. And then he stalked off. When Mem found me, she had to stitch me up.” Jathan shook his head and his words shook too. In his eyes, she saw the truth. He still felt like that little boy, trembling before his father’s fury. “To this day, Mem believes a robber tried to break in fer the cash box.”

  “Oh, Jathan.” Sarah rushed forward and placed her hands and her cheek on his chest.

  “No son of his …” he repeated.

  The words were no more than a whisper, but Sarah knew they cut his heart like a knife.

  CHAPTER

  31

  It had been a week since Jathan confessed the pain of his past, and even though she’d tried to assure him that she loved him and would be there for him no matter his occupation or what he needed to do to support his family, Sarah had hardly seen him.

  Jathan had come around the bakery with items they needed, like the twenty-pound bags of flour they went through so often, but he rarely stayed long. Instead, he’d chat for a moment, look at and taste her newest creations, and then run out the door again on another errand for his brother.

  Sarah tried to assure him she still cared. She also tried to be understanding. Maybe she’d come to Ohio not to urge Jathan to step out in his dream, but rather walk alongside him when he couldn’t. To support him no matter what.

  Even though Sarah’s heart ached for Jathan, her soul soared as she made more cupcakes and discovered new ways to decorate them.

  Some days, Englisch customers brought in ideas for her, but most days, she took time to gaze at the world around her as she walked to and from work.

  One time, she brought in her memory jar and set it on the counter. She pulled out the small pinecone from the jar and a smile filled her face. Inspired, she frosted the cupcakes first and set them to the side. Then she picked out different-sized chocolate buttons she’d bought at the cooking store and dipped the ends in decorating gel before sprinkling edible glitter on them. Once the buttons were dry, she layered them, lining them up in rows of threes so they looked like pinecones.

  After placing them on top of the frosted cupcakes, she smiled and took them to the display case, lining them up next to the butterfly cupcakes. An Amish woman was looking at the display, lined up with the rest of the women who were Englisch. Sarah paused, realizing she hadn’t seen her before. She also realized how few Amish women came in anymore. Maybe it was because the store seemed to be filled with Englisch tourists more often than not.

  The Amish woman bought two flower cupcakes and a loaf of bread. After she left, Sarah turned to Aunt Kay. “Is that woman new in town? I haven’t seen her before.”

  Aunt Kay sighed and shook her head. “ne. That’s Bev Troyer. She’s like one of the butterflies you put on yer cupcakes. Those fancy ones.” Aunt Kay drew out the word fancy as she pointed to the display case. “Everything’s sunshine and flowers, but she’s not much fer practical use. Never quite knew an Amish woman like her.”

  Sarah bit her tongue. Sarah assumed Aunt Kay was talking about Bev Troyer, but from the look in Kay’s eye, she couldn’t be sure.

  She was about to head to the back when a small tourist bus pulled up in front. Within fifteen minutes, all the tourists had come in and left again, large smiles on their faces and boxes of baked goods in their arms. Sarah looked at the display case and noticed that every last cupcake was gone. How is that possible?

  Should she make more tomorrow? Would this be a regular occurrence?

  Sarah was rearranging the items in the display case when another woman entered.

  “Do you have cupcakes?” she asked. “I saw a lady at the fabric store, and she told me about the cupcakes. Said they were the best she’d ever eaten.”

  Sarah raised her eyebrows. “Well, I was going to wait —”

  “Cupcakes?” Aunt Kay stepped forward, interrupting before Sarah could continue. “We have cinnamon rolls. Homemade bread too.”

  “Yes, that sounds lovely, but what I’d really like is a cupcake.”

  Aunt Kay pursed her lips, glanced over her shoulder at Sarah, and then turned her attention back to the woman. “Ach, ja, there’s cupcakes in the back yet.”

  “Excuse me? What did you say?” the woman asked.

  Sarah stepped forward. “She means there’s cupcakes to come. I have some batter that I have chilling. If you can give me an hour and a half.”

  “Perfect.” The woman tucked her wallet back into her purse and nodded. “I have more shopping to do. Save me two dozen.”

  “Two dozen?” Sarah attempted to hide her smile. Even though it was hard work, it felt good that her cupcakes were so appreciated.

  She finished rearranging the cookies in the display case, then turned to Aunt Kay. “Would you like me to work on the oatmeal cookies first? They were on the list Mem Schrock gave me.”

  “Ja, well, I don’t think the list matters now.” She narrowed her gaze at Sarah. “You best get started on those cupcakes.” Aunt Kay spoke the last word as if she were spitting an eggshell from between her lips. Then she turned to the back and hurried to the kitchen. “I don’t know why they need cupcakes — two dozen especially — when there are other things jest as appeditlich right here in the case.” Sarah noticed Mem Schrock had come in. Before the older woman even had time to put on her apron, Aunt Kay launched into a rant about the fancy cupcakes.

  “Should we even call this an Amish bakery with fancy cupcakes like that?” Sarah heard Aunt Kay say. Sarah’s knees softened as she saw the disappointment in Mem Schrock’s gaze.

  “Maybe not,” she answered. “Maybe we’ve made a bad decision here.”

  Sarah tried to ignore the women’s words and rushed forward to help another customer — an Amish woman — at the cash register.

  The woman shook her head. “Kay needs to stop brutzing.” She patted her kapp and clucked her tongue. “The point of the bakery is to sell what customers want, not what the bakers like to bake. Don’t they understand that?”

  “That’s the problem, I think.” Sarah sighed. “Folks used to want what they baked … until I started making my cupcakes.”

  Jathan stepped in the front door and watched Sarah set out another batch of cupcakes. His
limbs felt weary as he walked through the front door but a small smile lifted his lips when he noticed the line of customers.

  Sarah finished setting the cupcakes in the display case and hurried to the kitchen. She didn’t look happy. Jathan followed her in, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

  “Having a gut day?”

  “Well, pretty gut.”

  He bent down and gazed into her face. “And what’s bothering you?”

  Tears rimmed her eyes. She shrugged. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you about this kitchen. There isn’t enough room. It wasn’t made for three women, really, and now with Catherine helping to bake, we’re always bumping into each other.” She knelt down and looked under the counter. “Look at all this open space. If you built some racks, I could place my decorated cupcakes under here — especially the ones for special orders. Or maybe even set bread to rise. It would free up the counters.”

  He knelt next to her, placing an elbow on his knee, and grinned. “The bakery’s really taking off, isn’t it?”

  “Well, it’s been busy.” She paused. “Not to say I do anything special, but I’ve seen that some customers do enjoy my cupcakes.” She fixed her eyes on his. “Sometimes it’s the little things that make all the difference, don’t you think? We don’t need to worry about expanding the kitchen, jest have to make better use of space.”

  He focused on her gaze and nodded. “Yer cupcakes are the talk of the town. Not only pretty but gut.” Jathan patted his stomach. “I think I’ve gained some weight since you’ve been making them.”

  “The recipes are simple. Catherine’s been making them jest fine. If we wanted to expand, to help out yer family, I have a new idea too.”

  “Ja? What’s that?”

  She looked to the cabinet that held her memory jar, then looked back at him. “Well, I can’t keep up with all the decorating, but what if we put out items fer folks to decorate the cupcakes themselves? We can give them a little cup, and they can fill it with sprinkles and edible glitter. I think they’d really enjoy it.”

  He nodded and smiled. “I like that.” Relief — joy — flooded Sarah’s face, and her cheeks grew pink.

  “Ja, that’s something we can talk about. I can mention it to Mem.”

  As he began to rise, Sarah grabbed his arm. “But Jathan, will you tell yer Mem that it was yer idea? I’ve noticed lately …” Her eyes pleaded with him as she let her voice trail off.

  “What?”

  Sarah shrugged and then she fingered the fabric of his shirt. His skin tingled under her touch. “I’ve jest noticed that anytime I bring up an idea, yer Mem and Aunt Kay exchange a glance. I believe they’ve grown weary of my ideas.”

  He didn’t say anything. He’d seen changes too. Mem seemed more distant than usual, and she’d been cooler to Sarah than when she’d first arrived. There was another tell-tale sign too. Mem hadn’t asked in the last week when Jathan was going to talk to Sarah about a wedding. That wasn’t like his mother. Tension built in his chest, but he didn’t want it to show.

  “Ja, of course,” he said as he rose. “I don’t mind claiming a gut idea like that.”

  Sarah walked home the long way from work, passing by her favorite flower garden on the edge of town. Black-eyed Susans, mums, zinnias, irises, and dozens of other flowers Sarah didn’t know the name for graced the garden with golds and oranges, purples and blues. She was just about to continue on when a white kapp bobbing in the far corner of the garden caught her eye. She imagined the sweet old woman who lived here, kneeling in the garden, tugging at the weeds.

  Sarah had the rest of the day off. Should she offer to help? It was one way to make friends. Heaven knew she needed a friend right now.

  “You have a lovely garden!” Sarah’s voice carried on the slight breeze. “I’ve not seen one like it. Do you need help? I imagine the weeds are quite overwhelming in a garden this size.”

  “Oh, hello!” The figure rose and stepped forward with speed and agility Sarah hadn’t expected. A wide smile flashed in the sunlight and Sarah gasped. It wasn’t an older woman at all. She was young and beautiful with reddish-brown hair tucked under her kapp. As she neared, Sarah recognized her immediately. Wasn’t this the woman Aunt Kay had talked about earlier? Bev Troyer?

  “I recognize you.” The woman pointed. “Yer the new baker at Our Daily Bread.”

  “Ja.” Sarah nodded. She paused, forcing a smile. Should she withdraw her offer to help? It was clear the other Amish women disapproved of Bev. Should Sarah risk her own reputation by spending time with her?

  Sarah released a breath, remembering her reputation was already ruined. After all, she was the one who made those fancy cupcakes.

  “Ja, I am the new baker,” Sarah continued. “I enjoy baking very much.”

  The woman sighed. “Ach, I wish I could bake. I make a mess of everything. My Mem gave up trying to teach me after I set the kitchen on fire … twice. That’s when I took up gardening. I can’t set anything on fire or poison anyone from out here.”

  Sarah smiled. “Are you saying yer an Amish woman who can’t cook?”

  The smile on the woman’s face faded. Her expression darkened and tears sprang to her eyes. Bev didn’t answer but instead lowered her gaze and pretended to focus on the green rose leaf she pressed between her fingers.

  “Ja, well, I do cook some.” Her words weren’t convincing.

  “Ach, I’m so sorry.” Sarah placed a hand on Bev’s arm. “I didn’t mean you disrespect. I understand what it means to not fit in. I’m from the west — from an Amish community in Montana. Amish people live differently out there. My parents had a small garden where we lived in the mountains, but my biggest problem is that although I bake, it’s far too fancy.”

  “Fancy?”

  Sarah nodded. “Ja. I like making cupcakes and decorating them to match yer garden.”

  The woman’s eyes widened, and she giggled behind her hand. “Yes, I bought and ate two myself, jest today. They were beautiful … and delicious.”

  Sarah leaned closer. “You can imagine the type of response I get to my fancy cupcakes.”

  “I imagine they’re similar to the comments I receive about my fancy garden.” Bev glanced over her shoulder. “No matter how often I say that God’s the creator and I’m simply highlighting his handiwork, many people talk. I know what they say.” Her voice quivered. “But you are right — some Amish woman I am.”

  And some follower of Jesus I am fer having considered walking away. Fer being worried about my own reputation.

  Sarah smiled at the woman. “My offer is still open. I’d love to help with yer weeding — or whatever you may need help with. I have the afternoon off.”

  “Oh, the weeding is done, but I’d love fer you to come in for tea. I have nothing to serve with it but —”

  Sarah patted Bev’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about that. I take too many nibbles of this and that at the bakery. Treats are the last thing I need.”

  Seventeen-year-old Sarah walked through the forest. It was Sunday, and they were on their way to their church service, but instead of walking down the country road like everyone else, Patty had convinced her to take a more scenic path. A content smile rested on Patty’s lips as she walked. She breathed in deeply and glanced from tree to log to leaf.

  “Sarah, watch yer feet!” The words spouted from Patty’s mouth.

  Sarah paused and looked down. “What’s wrong with my feet?”

  “There’s nothing wrong with them. It’s where you step, that’s all.”

  “Nothing’s there but leaves, raindrops, and a spiderweb.”

  “You call that nothing?”

  Sarah looked down and noticed the drops of rain clinging to the spiderweb. Mem crocheted delicate trimming on handkerchiefs, but nothing she made came near to the intricacy of the web.

  “Yer right.” Sarah stepped over it and walked gingerly.

  Patty seemed to see — truly see — the world unlike anyone Sarah had ever met. And thr
ough her friend’s eyes, the world became a different place for Sarah as well.

  If only she could learn to see in such a way on her own.

  CHAPTER

  32

  Sarah had woken up to the memory of Bev Troyer’s garden and an uneasy feeling stirred inside her. She’d found no greater joy lately than working on the cupcakes, but deep inside, she knew it wouldn’t matter if she found great joy making the cupcakes. Or even found joy in seeing the smiles on the faces of the Englisch customers. She longed to be understood, to be appreciated. And when she went into the bakery later that morning, she longed for both of those things more than anything.

  Dawn hadn’t broken yet when she arrived at the bakery. Mem Schrock and Aunt Kay were already busy at work. They offered pleasant smiles as she entered. Sarah immediately went to the cupcakes she’d baked yesterday and frosted them. Then she set to work with the fondant, cutting small shapes, spending more time on them than she should.

  Finally, when she was finished, Sarah held up a cupcake that looked as if it were a section of Bev’s garden. A smile curled on her lips. The flowers looked so real. She gazed on them with pleasure. Is this how God felt after creation? She turned the cupcake in her hand. Her thumb left a smudge. Sarah didn’t fix it. Instead she held it up for the women to see and allowed a sad smile to fill her face.

  “What are you thinking about?” Mem Schrock asked.

  “Oh, I had a friend once who used to touch the birthmark I have right behind my ear. My friend Patty told me that when God finished forming me, he left his fingerprint. She’d stick her thumb on that spot, grin, and say, ‘Well done.’”

  “That’s nice, dear,” Aunt Kay said.

  Sarah took a step closer to the women, still holding the cupcake in her hand. “I haven’t thought about that in a while.”

  “Why not?”

  Sarah’s smile vanished. She stared at the women, unblinking, through many ticks of the clock. “Well, because I used to think of that when I was sad, but these cupcakes … making them makes me happy.”