The Memory Jar

by Tricia Goyer

  “God, are you out there somewhere? I feel so alone now. I’ve always tried to do the right thing. I’ve served you, and I try to care fer others. If yer a gut God then why …” The tears came then. Why was all she could manage to say.

  She wrapped her arms around her legs, pressing her skirt tight to her. She didn’t know where she was supposed to go or what she was supposed to do.

  Sarah woke up the next morning with one task on her thoughts. She had to go to Jathan. She had to apologize.

  Thinking back now, she recognized the look in his eyes. He’d wanted her to say she’d stand by him no matter what. He’d hoped she’d tell him he was more important than working at the bakery, and she hadn’t done that.

  Sarah wasn’t sorry she’d met him. Even if things didn’t work out between them romantically, she’d never be sorry. He was a good man who carried his own painful memories close to his heart.

  As much as she cared, even if things didn’t work out, she didn’t want her harsh words hanging between them. Asking forgiveness, she knew, was just as much about herself as it was about him. She needed to ask God to forgive her for the way she acted, and she knew she only had the right to do so if she asked Jathan’s forgiveness first.

  She’d also woken up thinking about Patty. Her friend would take off her kapp and plop to the ground in despair if she knew Sarah was going to give up so easily. There were no tall, thin trees here — the types Patty had always dared Sarah to climb. She wouldn’t fall to her death by going after Jathan, but she could tumble, and her heart could get scraped up pretty fierce. Still, that was the risk she had to take.

  She dressed and hurried out to ask her Uncle Ivan if she could borrow his buggy. The sun had just risen, but she could not wait.

  It was Mem Schrock who opened the door after Sarah’s knock. She coughed, and Sarah knew why she wasn’t at the bakery. Most likely the same reason she wasn’t in the dawdi house with Dat Shrock.

  Before Sarah even had a chance to talk, Mem Schrock held up her hand. “I’m sorry, Sarah. Jathan’s working right now. You’ll have to come back another time.”

  Sarah placed a hand on her chest. She could count on one hand the number of times she’d felt so angry. Even after Patty’s accident, she’d felt more pity for the young couple on the boat than anger. They’d been on their honeymoon and had just borrowed the boat for the day. They’d been playing around and hadn’t meant any harm — much less someone’s death.

  But this woman.

  Mem Schrock swayed forward, blinking rapidly. Her lips compressed and at last she stammered. “You two are just too different, Sarah. He needs someone more … Amish. Who likes the old ways.”

  Don’t listen to that. Sarah could hear Patty’s voice in her mind. You are not like anyone else, Sarah, and you don’t want to be. How boring the world would be if everyone was alike.

  The memory of Patty’s smiling face brought a bit of comfort, but it still did not shield her from the pain of Mem Schrock’s scowl.

  “Ja, I understand, and yer probably right, but can I please talk to Jathan? Jest fer a few minutes?”

  “ne. There’s a big order he’s finishing. I ask you not to go out there.”

  Sarah glanced over at the building just behind the barn. She knew she could walk past this woman. But she also knew it would do more harm than good, especially after what Jathan had to say yesterday.

  “G’day, Sarah.”

  “Good day.”

  She walked back to the buggy. Above her, the clouds skidded across the sky. Instead of celebrating their beauty, she focused on the rocky driveway and the way the gravel bit through the soles of her shoes.

  It didn’t matter if she could apologize today or if it would be two months before she had Jathan alone to say her piece. They’d had a fight, yes, but every fight was evidence of something more.

  Dat had always told her that whenever you got angry at another person, it was an opportunity to take a glimpse of your own faults. Yet even if she and Jathan managed to work out those faults — as she hoped they would — there was the issue of his family. They’d always be there. Their beliefs weren’t going to change overnight just as hers weren’t going to change.

  If his family couldn’t accept her — if they didn’t appreciate her passion and creativity — how could she live with that? More important, how would Jathan deal with it? She couldn’t imagine putting him in that position. He cared for her, but he loved his family. She wouldn’t ask him to choose.

  She climbed into the buggy, knowing this was the beginning of a new path for her. To save Jathan from having his heart split in two, she knew the best thing would be to give him space to make his own decisions, even if those decisions didn’t involve her.

  CHAPTER

  34

  Sarah pushed the food around on her plate and tried to ignore the nine sets of eyes on her.

  She took a sip of her water and turned to Aunt Lynette. “I heard you talking about Aunt Esta needing a maut when her babe is born. Do you think she’d be interested in me?”

  “You? Yer more than qualified, but what about the bakery? So many wunderbaar things are happening.”

  Sarah hung her head. “Not anymore.”

  Aunt Lynette furrowed her brow. “I don’t understand.”

  “They want things to go back to the simple ways. A little baking, nothing too fancy, and their old Amish customers.”

  “What? Really?” Aunt Lynette leaned forward in her seat. “But yer cupcakes …” She sighed.

  Sarah swallowed hard and shrugged.

  The room was absolutely still. Even though Sarah knew the baby and toddlers couldn’t understand the Englisch words she and her aunt spoke, they must feel the tension.

  “I — I can’t talk about it now, but they have decided to go back to the way things were. I’d like that nanny job. I need to get away, even if it’s less than five miles.”

  “Ja, I understand. I will send a note with Ivan to take to Roy J. to get to Esta that will tell her yer desire to work fer her.”

  “Danki.” Even with the crushing blow of yesterday’s news, she couldn’t help but smile. Since there were many Roy Yoders in Holmes County, nicknames were common. Esta’s husband was Roy J., although no one knew what the J. stood for, and at the bakery, she’d heard talk of Albert’s Roy, Twin Roy, and Limpy Roy, each of whom were named such because of their families or a trait.

  The smile quickly faded and she hurried to her room.

  What am I doing here?

  In Montana, there was only one Roy, and he wasn’t even Amish.

  In Montana, her boss, Annie, let her be as creative as she wanted to be with her baking.

  In Montana, she had to be more concerned about coming across a bear as she walked to work than she did about the number of tourists one could draw to one’s shop.

  Yet, even as she questioned what she was doing in Ohio, she didn’t feel God releasing her to return to Montana. She thought of her friend Marianna, who’d gone back to Indiana. Marianna had said that Montana had stayed with her every moment. For Sarah, that wasn’t the case.

  Sarah sank onto her bed, and a knowing settled on her. Just as she knew when a loaf of bread needed an extra two minutes of baking. Just as she knew what ingredient she needed to throw into her cupcake batter. She knew she was supposed to stay in Holmes County. At least for a little while longer. She may have come to help Jathan, but she had a feeling God wasn’t finished with her yet.

  Sarah curled up, pulled the pillow closer to the edge of the bed, and placed her cheek on it. She just hoped she could stay on to help with Aunt Esta now. Otherwise she didn’t know what she’d do.

  Esta wobbled through the front door, motioning Sarah to follow. Esta’s stomach looked as if she had a pumpkin tucked under her dress, and Sarah knew the time for the baby to come was close.

  A week had passed since Sarah had last seen Jathan. She’d had a chance to visit with Esta and discuss the job. Esta had been thrilled and Sarah
had spent the rest of the week enjoying time with Aunt Lynette.

  Every day she waited and hoped that Jathan would stop by.

  When that hadn’t happened, she’d told her uncle she was ready to move to her new home.

  Uncle Ivan had dropped Sarah off and, at her insistence, left her boxes on the porch. He gave her a pat on the shoulder before leaving.

  “I’m thankful yer here,” Esta said. “I thought about asking the Miller girl again, but news has it she’s gonna be marrying soon. I’m sure she’ll have enough preparation to do without having to help me out. Yer an answer to prayer, Sarah.”

  Esta led her to the stairs and looked up the tall flight. Her hand gripped the rail and she paused.

  “If you tell me which room it is, I can find my own way.”

  “Really?” Esta let out a sigh. “It’s at the top of the stairs, second on the left.” Esta shook her head. “I’m so sorry though. I haven’t readied up the room yet.”

  “Don’t worry. I can clean up the room. That’s what I’m here for, remember?”

  That and to run away. To forget the real reason I moved to Ohio.

  Esta’s house was situated not far from the downtown area of Charm, Ohio. It was a pleasant walk to the grocery store and library. Sarah enjoyed taking the two older toddlers there. Helen was three years old, and Jonah was two. Both had light brown hair and large, beautiful eyes with long lashes just like their mother’s.

  It helped to get out of the house. To have fresh air. To keep her mind occupied on things other than her own troubled thoughts.

  When the midwife arrived one morning and suggested Sarah take the children out for a while, Sarah understood. She spent two hours walking the streets of Charm and playing with the children at the park. Only when they grew tired did she decide to return.

  “You got here jest in time.” The midwife strode onto the porch with the newborn swaddled up. “I have to finish with Esta yet. Can you take the wee one?”

  Sarah nodded. “Ja, let me get some cookies fer the children first.” She sat them at the table with a couple of cookies and then took the baby into her arms. His face was pink and wrinkled. His hair was still coated with a white film. Sarah’s soul ached. Will I ever have the joy of being a mother, a wife?

  The baby’s eyes were wide as he looked around. “Welcome to this world. Do you like what you see?” She swaddled him and tucked him under her chin. “This is a gut home, a gut community.”

  “Your aunt wants the boppli,” the midwife called from the hallway behind her.

  “Ja, of course.” Sarah rose and carried the baby to Esta. She’d only met Esta a few times before during family vacations, and she’d always had a hard time calling her aunt since she was only a few months older than Sarah.

  A few months older and married with three children now. Sarah shook her head and pushed those depressing thoughts away.

  “In God’s good time,” she whispered to the tiny babe. “All things gut in his time.”

  Jathan hummed one of his mother’s favorite hymns as he sat by his father’s side. It wasn’t until he started the second line that he paid attention to the words to the tune playing in his head.

  I need no mansion here below

  for Jesus said that I could go

  to a home beyond the clouds

  not made with hands.

  Oh, won’t you come and go along?

  We will sing the sweetest song

  ever played upon the harp

  in Gloryland.

  It wasn’t until he started school with the other Amish children in their one-room schoolhouse that Jathan realized the gospel songs his mother sang at home weren’t typical. Singing wasn’t typical for that matter. But Jathan’s mother had a beautiful voice, and she often sang him to sleep. It was only as he grew that he understood her lovely singing could be considered prideful.

  He looked at the still form of his father. Was what his mother said true? She’d told Jathan Dat had woken up and asked for him.

  Jathan stared at the ashen face and the limp hands that lay at his father’s sides and had a hard time believing it. Maybe Mem was just trying to give him a sense of hope. Since he had no hope for Sarah or the bakery, maybe she figured he’d find a bit of joy in his father’s improvement.

  Jathan tried to think of another song when he felt Dat stirring beside him. Looking up, his head jerked back to see Dat’s eyes open and fixed on him.

  “Dat?” Jathan scooted the chair closer to the bed and grasped his father’s hand. “Dat, do you understand me? I’m here.”

  Jathan noticed the slightest nod of his father’s head. He started to rise, wanting to go get Mem, but Dat’s hand clung tighter.

  Was he wanting this moment to be for just the two of them? The intensity in Dat’s eyes told Jathan he did.

  “Dat, I’m so thankful yer here. I’m sorry I left. I’m sorry I went to Mont —”

  Dat squeezed Jathan’s hand again and Jathan paused his words.

  Dat’s cracked lips parted slightly, and his face scrunched up as if it took every ounce of energy to form a word. “Go.” The word pushed through Dat’s lips.

  “Ja, I went to Montana.”

  Dat’s brow wrinkled more, and Jathan knew that’s not what he was talking about.

  “Go-o-o.”

  Jathan leaned closer, wishing he could help Dat, could understand better.

  “Go-o … to … her.” Dat’s upper lip lifted slightly.

  “Mem? Do you need Mem?”

  Dat frowned again.

  “Who, Dat? Who are you talking about?”

  “Sarah.” Out of all the words, this came out clearest.

  “You know about Sarah?”

  His father settled into the pillow, telling him he did.

  “So you’ve been understanding what we’ve been talking about all this time?” Jathan stood. “And you heard when she came in … you heard us talking about the bakery?”

  The slightest smile curled on his father’s face.

  Jathan sank down onto the bed. “That’s why you wanted to see me.” An electric sensation moved through Jathan. Dat knew of her. Accepted her. Then the weight of what Jathan had done hit him. He lowered his face into his hands. He thought he’d known what was required of him. But what if he’d been wrong?

  “She’s not at the bakery anymore. I was a fool, Dat. She’s gone.” Gone from his life. Gone from Berlin.

  Dat’s eyelids fluttered and Jathan knew the effort of talking tired him. Jathan leaned forward and pressed his lips to his father’s forehead. For the first time in his life, he loved his father completely and understood that he was no different than his father. Both had clung to the traditions they knew and were fearful of anything different. Dat’s fear had emerged in rage. Jathan’s fear had caused him to run.

  Jathan leaned back, and as he did, three more words slipped out of his father’s lips. “Yours. Make yours,” he said before he drifted off to sleep.

  What did Dat mean?

  His life?

  His bakery?

  His future wife?

  Maybe all three. Jathan wasn’t sure, but at that moment, he knew what he needed to do and for whom he needed to do it.

  CHAPTER

  35

  Sarah heard something clatter to the ground. It almost sounded like the tray she’d just taken in to Esta. She opened the door and poked her head inside. “Everything gut?”

  Esta glanced up at her. Dark circles ringed her eyes.

  “I fell asleep leaning against these pillows and the tray hit the floor.”

  Sarah hurried in, picking up the spilled toast and eggs. “Don’t worry. I’ll make you more. Thankfully the plate didn’t break.”

  “The boppli’s been up so much in the night. I’ve never had this problem before.” Esta yawned. “It seems I’m not making enough milk.”

  “Have you tried a tincture?” Sarah asked. “There was a woman near where I lived in Montana who made them. We sold them at the
West Kootenai store. I can write to my Mem and ask if she can send me some Max-Milk. In the meantime, I can walk to town. There’s an herbal tea with fenugreek that will help. It’s worth a try.”

  “Would you do that?” Esta scooted farther down in bed, and Sarah could tell she was more interested in sleep than breakfast.

  “Ja, and how’re yer afterpains?”

  “Worse than with the other children. Real tears come when I nurse.”

  Sarah nodded. “Others at the store told me that happened. I’ll pick up some red-raspberry-leaf tea and a calcium supplement. It should help.”

  “Ach, Sarah.” Esta stretched out her hand.

  Sarah step forward and squeezed it. “The young woman I had stay after the last baby was gut about cooking and cleaning, but our Lord knew I needed you here this time.”

  Sarah nodded. “I’ll get the kinner dressed, and we’ll head into town. Should be back before the boppli wakes.”

  Thirty minutes later, Sarah was on her way. It felt good and right to walk the mile to town with Jonah on her hip and Helen’s hand in hers. The rain of yesterday was gone, and warm, fresh air filled her lungs. Jonah jabbered in toddler talk, and Sarah greeted two Amish women she recognized as customers from the bakery in Berlin.

  The two women paused in their tracks and their eyes widened. The color seemed to rush from their faces and Sarah guessed why. They’d most likely gotten an earful. They obviously knew she was no longer at the bakery, but neither said a word.

  “Sarah, gut to see you. Look at those adorable kinner. I hope Esta’s faring well.”

  “Ja, well as can be, I suppose.” Sarah smiled, telling herself that if they weren’t going to bring up the subject of the bakery, she wasn’t either. “I’m jest heading to the store to pick up some things for Esta — to help with her afterpains.”

  “She had another son, I heard? A gut playmate for young Jonah here, ja?” one of the women asked.

  Sarah stroked Jonah’s fine, silky hair. “Ja, another boy, Job.”

  The older woman patted her kapp and nodded. “A gut biblical name.”