Almost Amish (38 page)

“It’s good to have you home,” Thomas said, coming up beside her.” You know what I found out when you were all gone? That a neat, organized, and quiet house isn’t nearly as wonderful as I’d imagined it to be.”

Julie laughed. “Well, one of the things I learned while I was gone was not to overextend myself so much. So I think we all know better than to think my house will ever be neat and organized to Reynolds family standards. But it’s going to be filled with love. I’m going to make sure to set time aside to take care of my most important people—my family.”

“Well, good luck with that. Wait until you see the pile of phone messages you have waiting for you. And I can’t begin to imagine what your email in-box is going to look like.”

“No worries. Susan had me practicing the word ‘no’ all the way home on the plane.”

Whitney laughed. “But
she
didn’t take that word so well when you gave her that for an answer, did she?”

“No, she didn’t.” Julie smiled at the memory.

“You told Susan no? About what?”

“She’s starting a new group at church to replace Lydia’s Legacy. Instead of trying to teach everyone about how to be a gourmet cook and hostess extraordinaire, it’s going to be a group of women with different gifts who get together to support each other. Help each other learn how to do things better that they don’t do well, but also to let women know that it’s okay if you lack a gift someone else has in bucket loads.”

“What did she want you to do?”

“She wanted me to be the assistant administrator. You know, handle the enrollment, make sure that the groups have all their supplies each week, things like that.”

“Sounds like something you’d be great at.”

“Maybe. But I don’t think it’s where I want to be. I don’t want to be running around fixing the details. I think I’m supposed to be available to talk to people during the class, see if anyone is feeling left out, whatever. And, at my suggestion”—she looked toward Whitney and smiled—“we’re going to do a special quilting project. It will be a good chance for the women to sit around and talk to each other, and we can give the quilts to charity. That is something I can get excited about.”

Thomas smiled and kissed her on the cheek.

“And by the way, I’ve invited Susan and Angie over for dinner tomorrow night. And I’ve also invited another friend, too, although I’m not certain they’ll make it.”

“Someone mysterious?”

“You might say that.”

Susan leaned back on one of Julie’s lounge chairs, sipping an iced tea and eating a bite of chips and salsa. The lounge was wiped clean, but she felt it could use a good scrubbing. She pushed the thought aside. That was just who her sister-in-law was—distracted, messy, and the biggest, most beautiful heart she’d ever met. The kids were screaming and splashing in the pool, enjoying the best of southern California life.

Thomas looked over the top of the grill. “Doorbell just rang.”

“Oh, Susan, will you get that for me? I need to finish mixing up my guacamole.”

“Sure.” Susan walked through the house to the front door, prepared to tell the neighborhood kids that it wasn’t open swim right now. She pulled open the door. “It’s not—” She had to grip the doorknob to hold herself upright. “What . . . what are you doing here?”

Gary smiled as he extended a bouquet of flowers. “Uh, would you rather that I not be here?”

“No!” Susan said the words with a bit too much force. “Please forgive my lack of manners. Come in, and please tell me how it is you came about being here right now.”

“Your sister-in-law invited me.”

“How? You’ve been gone.”

“I got her cell number from Kendra, and I called her yesterday and told her I would be in the area and asked if she thought you’d still be open to seeing me. I guess it was sort of a juvenile thing to do, instead of just calling you directly, but . . . well, what can I say? She invited me to dinner tonight and suggested we make it a surprise.”

“How long are you in town?”

“A week. Although, I’m here on business and will be in L.A. a good bit of the time. Julie invited my business associate, too, but I wanted to clear it with you before he comes here.”

“Why would you clear it with me?”

“It’s . . . uh . . . Chris.”

“A business associate?”

“Long story. But he’s actually got a gig playing at one of the larger churches in Thousand Oaks tonight. Do you think the kids would want to go?”

“Please come in, and we’ll find out.”

“Hey, Gary, good to see you.” Brian was the first of the kids to notice his arrival. They barely blinked at his appearance; somehow he just fit in so well. Soon they all joined in a happy chorus of greetings.

Susan waited until they calmed down to say, “It turns out that Chris and his band are in Thousand Oaks tonight. Would you want to drive down to see them?”

Angie was out of the pool drying off within a millisecond. “When do we leave?”

The teenagers barely stayed long enough to eat before they disappeared. As the grown-ups lingered over dessert and conversation, Julie said, “I’m going to miss that farm. I hope I get back to see it sometime.”

“So do I.” Gary looked at Susan. “And I’m hoping Susan wants to see it again, too.”

“I’d like that.”

“Good. How about next weekend?”

“Are you still working there?”

“Yes. And no.” He toyed with his coffee cup. “You probably should also know my last name is not Macko. It’s Buchanan, just like Charlotte’s.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I am still sort of working at the farm. You might say that I . . . own the place.”

“What? I thought it was some burned-out record producer in Nashville who . . .” Susan stopped talking and looked at him. “Are you kidding me?”

He shook his head. “I was ready to slow down a little, and it was just what I needed.”

“I suspected it all along.” Julie took a sip of her Diet Coke, looking a bit too smug.

“You did not,” Susan said.

“Yep, that’s my gift. Watching people. And from the beginning I noticed that Kendra gave him way too much respect for him to be a handyman. And in the restaurant in Nashville, those waitresses knew who you were. That’s why they put us back in the special room.”

“That’s why you were using a fake last name.” Susan finally began to understand exactly what had happened.

He nodded. “And that’s the kind of stuff I’m ready to move away from. I’m ready to be just plain ol’ Gary. Of course, if I keep hanging out with this one and the path she’s on, they’ll be giving us special tables because of her.”

“You think you could handle that?” Susan teased.

“I’d sure like to find out.”

She couldn’t imagine a more fulfilling day: an entire morning spent packaging beautiful hand-sewn quilts, preparing them to be delivered to a school for orphans in South Africa. Each quilt contained squares with handwritten messages from the women who had worked on them. Some held Bible verses, others, a word of encouragement. This was the second box to be shipped this year, and the notes of thanks had been overwhelming.

Julie’s fingers ached from last-minute touch-up sewing; her back ached from hours spent being up late trying to get these finished in time to ship for the Christmas holidays. Julie put the last box in the shipping container and stretched out her arms and back. She looked at her watch. There was forty-five minutes before the BodyBuilders meeting. Today, she was to give her report on the quilts, their impact, and hold up the two quilts that were being kept here as a silent auction—the money which would go to help the same school in South Africa.

There wasn’t enough time to make it home, so she decided to treat herself and stop in at the local Starbucks. As she sat sipping her tall, nonfat, double-shot latte, she watched a couple of women walk through the door. Each held a clipboard in her hand and a stressed-out expression on her face. Julie recognized them both from the junior high PTA. They comprised the hospitality committee and had each been more than a little upset when Julie told them she would not be renewing her pledge to bring in homemade baked goods to the teachers’ meeting once a month. Julie had told them she would be more than happy to buy muffins from the bakery and bring them in, but the women had been adamant: the teachers deserved home-baked goods.

“Yes, I agree that they do, but I simply won’t have time for that this year.” That had been her final answer.

As the women walked past her with their coffees in hand, Julie overheard one of them whisper to the other, “She doesn’t have time to cook for her kids’ teachers, but she has time to hang out all day in a coffee shop.”

The words found their mark and stung more than a little bit. Guilt began to grow heavier and heavier upon her shoulders, until she found it hard to take the next step. Then . . . she remembered what she had already accomplished today.

She remembered the way her household was running so much more smoothly now. How they’d managed to find a few nights a week to eat homemade meals she’d actually enjoyed cooking.

She thought of Brian and Whitney, how both seemed to be smiling more. How Thomas and she had never been closer.

She remembered the hours spent two weeks ago praying with a woman who’d looked exhausted and desperate at BodyBuilders.

She remembered the quilts and all they would mean to the children overseas: children whose teachers never got fresh-baked goods from parents.

That’s when the thought that had been residing in pieces throughout Julie’s mind finally crystallized into one cohesive and indelible truth.She stood up and walked from the coffee shop.

When she got to her car, she looked in the rearview mirror for just a moment. She saw the face of a woman who was making a difference.

“I love my life.”

She started the car and drove off.