If her parents—especially her mother—hadn’t insisted she keep attending church during her rumschpringe she might have gone ahead and joined. But because they’d pushed, she’d resisted and dug her feet in. She’d been so curious about Englisch life . . . then when she’d met Michael, well, she supposed dating him became her area of rebellion.
Then came the accident and all its trauma. And she’d added hours to her day by hiring on at the bakery. She didn’t have time to think now, let alone be studying to join the church.
In a way, she wasn’t sorry she hadn’t joined the church yet. As much as she cared about Abram, as much as she knew she might be falling in love with him, the idea of suddenly getting married was a little scary.
And shouldn’t it be? Who jumped into marriage quickly, when there was no divorce here?
She shivered at the thought.
“Cold?” Linda asked her. “I’ve got a shawl in my tote bag.”
“Nee, I’m fine.”
“Ladies, do you need me to turn up the heat back there?” the driver called back. He’d evidently overheard their conversation.
“We’re fine, thanks.”
They hurried from the van to the bakery. Linda unlocked the door and flicked on the lights. No need to turn up the heater. The ovens quickly warmed the place, and the two of them set about working. The early morning hours passed quickly with mixing and baking.
Later in the morning, she was taking a break in the back room of Stitches in Time when Jenny Bontrager walked in looking for coffee.
“Mind if I join you?” she asked Rachel Ann.
“Please do. I was just finishing a letter.” She slid it into an envelope, licked a stamp, and affixed it to the corner. There, she’d made her request to the bishop to take the necessary classes to join the church.
She looked up at Jenny. “You took the classes to join the church. Were they hard?”
Jenny shook her head. “They’ll be easy for you because you’re Amish. Remember, I was Englisch before I converted so there was so much to learn about things like the Ordnung.” She studied Rachel Ann. “So you decided it’s time to join?”
Rachel Ann nodded. “I hope I didn’t worry my parents too much.”
“Parents are going to worry no matter what. You took the time you needed and looked around and came to the decision to stay. It’s all that’s important. I think it’s the right path for you.”
“I do too.” She studied the simply dressed woman her mother’s age who sat opposite her. Once, Jenny Bontrager—maiden name Jenny King—had been famous as a network correspondent roaming the world. Then she’d been injured by a car bomb and come here to recuperate at her Amish grandmother’s home. And she’d been reunited with the boy next door she’d loved years before when she visited.
Her relationship with a boy next door had worked out well. She and Matthew Bontrager were happily married and had four kinner and two grosskinner now.
Leah bustled into the room. “Jenny, I found another skein of yarn with the right dye lot you wanted.” She handed it to her.
“Thanks. This’ll teach me to buy more than I need next time. I’m knitting a sweater for one of my grandbabies,” she told Rachel Ann. “Anna got me hooked on knitting. I’m finally past making mufflers.”
She stood. “It was nice to talk to you, Rachel Ann.”
“You, too.”
“Is there anything else I can get you?” Leah asked her.
“No, I think I’ll browse a bit. I might see something for a last-minute Christmas gift.”
Leah took the seat Jenny had vacated and studied her. “How are you feeling today, Rachel Ann? I hope your cramps are gone.”
“Ya, danki. It reminds me, though. Mamm thinks I need to go to the doctor. Do you think I could use my lunch hour to go later this week, if I can get an appointment?”
“Of course. I hope she can do something about them for you. It’s a shame to see some young women suffer so.”
She gestured at the letter sitting on the table in front of Rachel Ann. “Did you want me to put it in the outgoing mail basket?”
Rachel Ann nodded. “Danki. I wrote the bishop to tell him I want to start taking classes so I can join the church after New Year’s.”
“I’m so glad to hear it.”
“I’m sure my parents will be happy to hear it, too. And—” she stopped and blushed.
“And a certain young man who lives next door to you?” Leah asked with a twinkle in her eyes.
Rachel Ann was saved from a response when they heard the bell over the front door jangle several times. “Sounds like it’s getting busy.”
“It’s going to be like this all the way to Christmas,” Leah said cheerfully. She jumped up with the energy of a woman half her age and hurried out of the room.
Rachel Ann followed her, looking forward to the festive air the shoppers carried with them this time of year.
Hours later, she enjoyed a different kind of time, a quiet one spent with Abram in his kitchen after she’d eaten supper with him and his mother. The night before, supper at her house had been lively with Sam enjoying being the center of attention as he passed out “Chris-mas cards” and regaled everyone with stories as they ate.
Tonight, supper had been quiet with just the three of them in Abram’s kitchen. As soon as they were finished, Lovina retired to her room with a cup of peppermint tea, and Rachel Ann and Abram washed and dried the dishes.
Rachel Ann wasn’t sure if Lovina needed to go put her feet up as she said, or if it was her way of giving the two of them some time together, but she was grateful. A buggy ride after supper was nice, but the nights grew colder and automobile drivers weren’t careful about watching out for slow-moving Amish buggies.
“I sent the bishop a note asking to sign up for classes so I could join the church,” she told him as she handed him a plate to dry.
Rachel Ann smiled as he reacted with surprise and nearly bobbled the plate. “Wunderbaar!” Then his grin faded. “I hope you didn’t think I was pressuring you when we spoke about this the other night.”
She shook her head. “It was time. I thought about talking to him about it the last time I saw him at church, but there were so many people who wanted his attention. So I wrote a note on break today.”
One more step toward her future, she thought.
They finished drying the dishes and then sat at the big table sipping coffee and talking about everything from the holidays to what he planned to plant in his fields come spring. It had always been easy to talk to him. Elizabeth had told her once she was a good listener, but the fact was, she thought she’d learned how from being around Abram. He’d always listened to her when they sat by the pond and talked—so much more than any family member or friend.
Well, she and Elizabeth were friends now since Elizabeth had moved to Paradise. But her relationship with Abram had always been as good friends. He was one of the few people who gave total attention to you when you talked, but more, she could share her hopes and dreams with him.
“It sounds like you love the work at the bakery so much,” he said after she talked about her morning constructing gingerbread houses. “How are you going to feel leaving there after the holidays? I know the work has been hard on you, but whenever you talk about it your face lights up.”
She frowned and stared at her hands folded on top of the table. “I knew it was temporary when I started,” she said. “I’m going to miss it. At least I feel a little more confident at the shop. Leah likes my work. She saw a gingerbread man pillow I was making for Sam for Christmas and says she wants me to make some to sell at the shop.”
“I think your heart is in the bakery,” he told her, and he reached over and put his warm, work-roughened hand over hers. “Maybe someday you’ll want to open your own bakery.”
Her eyes widened. She’d never even thought about it, and yet, he could envision such for her.
“My own bakery?” she whispered, almost afraid to say it aloud.
“Why not?”
She nodded slowly as she looked into his eyes, so warm and encouraging. “Why not?” She loved how he understood her so well. “Mary Katherine said I should think about baking at home so I didn’t have to go into the bakery so early. It’s a way to continue to bake there. I could take what I made into town when I went into Stitches in Time each day. I might think about it.”
“Sounds like a gut idea,” he said. “And maybe one day you’ll want to think about owning a bakery of your own like I said.”
She smiled, liking the idea of it. And loving him for being so supportive. “Maybe.”
13
Rachel Ann had her hand on the door of Stitches in Time when she heard someone call her name. She turned and saw Emma coming up the walk loaded down with a stack of cardboard boxes in her hands.
“Let me help!” she cried, taking the top box and holding open the door so Emma could stagger inside with her load.
They set them on the closest worktable, and Rachel Ann watched Emma take a deep breath. “What’s all this?”
Emma grabbed scissors and slit the lid of the box open. She lifted out woven cloth baskets made of red, white, and green material. By the time she finished opening the boxes she had half a dozen lined up on the worktable.
Leah walked over to inspect them. “Very nice,” she approved. “Wrap up some little boxes to look like Christmas presents, put them in a few baskets, and let’s get them in the display window. Then let’s scatter the rest around the shop with different things in them to give customers ideas how to use them. Oh, and remember we already have advance orders for two of them. You’ll have to call the customers so they can come pick them up.”
“How did you get so many done in a week?” Rachel Ann asked her.
“Isaac had to work some overtime because one of the other roofers was out sick, so I had some evenings to myself. I got some help from my mother, too. She said she enjoyed it because it reminded her of the rag rugs she used to make.”
Rachel Ann felt a little envious. She’d only been able to make two gingerbread pillows. Her dat had carried the sewing machine upstairs to her room so she could sew without Sam seeing what she was doing. But she was so tired after her long days—and everything couldn’t be about work. Sometimes she spent evenings with Abram . . . God had a plan for everything, and it evidently wasn’t the time for her to be creating for the shop.
Marriage obviously agreed with Emma. Watching her relationship with Isaac hit some interesting bumps in the road had taught Rachel Ann not to think everything went smoothly. But it was obvious that God had planned for Emma and Isaac to be together.
Customers kept her hopping and her mind off wishing she could have made some more pillows. By the time lunchtime rolled around, she was ready to take a break. Restless, she decided to take a walk before eating her sandwich. The air was cool but invigorating, and she enjoyed the bustle of others walking on the sidewalks and window shopping.
She couldn’t walk past Elizabeth and Saul’s store without popping in for a minute. Elizabeth was sitting on a chair supervising Saul who was arranging some carved wooden figurines. She looked up and smiled as Rachel Ann leaned down and hugged her.
“You’re looking well,” she said. “How are you feeling?”
“Wunderbaar! Saul insisted I sit down, so I’m supervising.”
Saul grinned. “Hello, Rachel Ann. How’s business at the shop?”
“Very busy. The bakery is, too.”
“Saul got me two of your cookies yesterday,” Elizabeth told her. “A little gingerbread boy and a gingerbread girl. I told him they were too pretty to eat. But, of course, I did,” she confessed with a laugh.
Rachel Ann stared at her, her eyes wide. “Two cookies? Does this mean you’re going to have zwillingbopplin?” she asked.
Elizabeth laughed and shook her head. “Nee. Not that it wouldn’t be such an amazing gift from God, but I will be grateful for one boppli.” She looked at Saul. “Imagine taking care of two at once.”
Was it her imagination that Saul looked a little pale at the thought? Rachel Ann wondered.
“It would be a lot,” Saul admitted. “There, are you happy with this display?”
“Very nice.” Elizabeth turned to Rachel Ann. “What do you think?”
One of the carved figurines caught her eye. Was it—yes, it was a frog with a touch of mischief in its eyes. It reminded her of a certain person . . . and one summer day.
“I love it,” she said impulsively, picking it up. She turned it over and looked at the price tag.
“Twenty percent discount for friends,” Elizabeth told her.
“Sold!”
“Can you stay for a cup of tea?”
Rachel Ann dug in her purse for her wallet. “Maybe next time. I’m just out for a quick walk on my lunch break. I left my sandwich back at the shop.”
Saul rang up the sale while Elizabeth wrapped the frog in tissue paper and tucked it into a gift bag.
“I’ll stop by day after tomorrow?”
“Sounds gut. And I wouldn’t mind if you brought some more of those gingerbread cookies,” Elizabeth said.
“I don’t know, is it me you want to see or my cookies?” Rachel Ann teased.
“Both!”
The door opened, and Elizabeth glanced over and grinned. “Speaking of zwillingbopplin,” she told Rachel Ann with grin.
Katie and Rosie, the store’s part-time helpers, walked in carrying boxes. They set them down on a nearby table.
“There’s more in the van outside if you want to help,” Katie told Saul, her eyes twinkling. “Rosie and I have been busy.”
Saul nodded and headed outside.
“Katie and Rosie, gut to see you!” Elizabeth waved a hand at Rachel Ann. “Look who came to visit.”
The twins rushed to hug Rachel Ann, chattering about how happy they were to see her. They’d missed church the previous Sunday in order to care for an ailing relative.
Saul came back in with two boxes in his arms and headed for the storeroom.
“We cleared two shelves for your jars,” Saul told Katie and Rosie when he returned. “Will it be enough?”
The two women nodded. Rachel Ann studied them as they unloaded little jars of jams, jellies, fruit butters, chow chow, pickles, and relishes. Elizabeth claimed she could distinguish between the two of them, but Rachel Ann had always had trouble doing so. They both had heart-shaped faces, brown eyes, and chestnut hair, and were compact rather than petite. They even enjoyed wearing the same colored dresses most days.
“We brought extra pumpkin butter and cranberry jam because they’re so popular this time of year,” Rosie—nee, Katie?—said, setting some jars on a shelf.
She pulled a jar filled with layers of beans and dried vegetables from the box and handed it to Elizabeth. “We’re calling this soup in a jar,” she said. “All someone has to do is pour this into a pot of boiling water and simmer it for a couple of hours and they have enough soup for a family.”
“Should be popular with the tourists,” Elizabeth said.
“I love the way you packaged everything.” The twins had made up labels for their products for their Two Peas in a Pod business with a photo of an Amish farm and gingham fabric squares wrapped around the lids with raffia.
Her eyes widened at the jar of bacon-flavored pickles. “I don’t believe I’ve ever tasted bacon-flavored pickles.”
“My grossmudder Lavina’s recipe,” one of the twins said. “Here, try a jar on us.”
Rachel Ann tried to argue with them, but they wouldn’t hear of her paying for the pickles. Glancing at the clock, she tucked the jar in her bag with the frog, said a quick good-bye, and left the store. Time had passed so quickly she was in danger of being late back to the shop.
She swung the little bag by its handles as she walked back to the shop, wondering what Abram would think of such a silly gift. But the frog reminded her of one hot summer day when they were children. She and Abr
am had packed lunches and met at the pond at the edge of the woods near their houses. She’d been a bit of a tomboy back then, and Abram had been a typical boy and tried to scare her with a frog. She’d turned the tables on him, neatly plucking the frog from his hands and sitting down on a big rock to admire the little creature.
Her mother had been appalled when she returned home, her hair a tangled mess, her kapp in her hands, muddy streaks all over her dress. Remembering, Rachel Ann wondered if her mother had ever despaired of her leaving those tomboy years behind.
She and Abram had been friends for years, and now they were dating. Who knew it all started with those days spent at the pond . . . she wondered what Abram would think when he unwrapped his Christmas present.
* * *
Abram checked his appearance in the mirror over his dresser. Going into town midweek for lunch with Rachel Ann was a rare treat. Farm work took up much of the time during other seasons. Satisfied he’d done a decent job ironing his shirt—he was a grown man who didn’t need his mother tending to all of his needs as he’d reminded her—he left his room.
“Abram, look who’s here,” his mother said when he walked into the kitchen.
“Sarah, gut to see you.”
She gave him a shy smile. “Abram.”
He had a few minutes before he needed to leave, so he walked over to pour himself a cup of coffee, sat down at the table, and reached for a cookie from a plate piled with them.
“Sarah was telling me her dat is on bed rest for an ankle injury.”
“He hates it,” Sarah told them. “But he has to stay off his feet for a week or two, and it’s been hard for Mamm and me to make him stay put and not do his chores.”
“How can I help?”
She touched her fingers to her trembling lips. “I don’t know why I should be surprised. You always help when you hear someone needs something.”
Abram shrugged. “Everyone pitches in here in our community.”
“None as much as you, Abram.”
“I need to make a phone call and then I can drive over.”
“Danki.” She turned to Lovina. “And thank you for the tea and cookies.”
One True Path Page 13