Made with Love (40 page)

2 bay leaves

3 cups heavy cream

5-6 cups leftover turkey pieces cut into chunks

2 cups fresh or frozen peas

1 cup fresh or frozen yellow corn kernels

Preheat the oven to 375°. In a large saucepan, melt the butter and then add celery, carrots, onion, and potato pieces. Sauté for 5-8 minutes and then sprinkle flour over the vegetables and stir until the mixture starts to bubble in the pan. Using a large whisk, add chicken broth, stirring until the sauce is smooth. Season with salt, pepper, and spices. Heat to a simmer on stovetop. Add the cream, turkey, peas, and corn and cook on a slow simmer until the sauce is thickened. Always taste and adjust your seasonings to your preferences. Place the filling in an extra-large cast iron skillet (this filling recipe makes enough for 2 large skillets.) Top with fresh-made biscuit dough and bake in oven until biscuits are browned and the filling is bubbling.

You may also use the same filling recipe to make pot pie in a pie pan or casserole dish using your favorite pie dough recipe. If you make a pie, wrap the outside of your pie pan with foil to keep the crust from burning. Bake until center is almost brown and then remove the foil to continue to cook the outer edges.

Thirty

It's better to suffer wrong than to commit wrong.

A
MISH
P
ROVERB

L
ovina hurried home, and her heart felt light, full. Mem was at the stove, cooking up her famous quiche.

Lovina took a big whiff when she walked through the door. “Mem, that smells delicious!”

Mem's smile was large—something Lovina hadn't seen in a while.

“Ja. You aren't the only one who knows how to make pie.”

Lovina placed an arm around Mem's shoulders. “Is there enough for company?”

“Company?” Mem glanced up at her. “It wouldn't be a handsome bachelor, would it?”

“I invited Noah.”

Lovina waited for the disappointing look, but instead her mem smiled. “Ja, there will be enough. Serving him lunch is the least I can do for all the work he's done.” Mem placed the knife on the counter and reached for the plates in the cupboard. “I made a few extra quiches for tomorrow. I thought Regina would enjoy not having to cook on her first day.”

“I nearly forgot. How exciting to have your best friend here tomorrow.”

“Just in time for the opening of the shop. We're both so excited to be there.”

Lovina paused, taking in the moment. It had taken Mem time to come around, and she had no doubt Regina had helped with that. Regina always was a positive influence on Mem. Something Lovina was thankful for.

A knock sounded at the door, and Lovina's heart skipped a beat. “That should be Noah.”

“Perfect timing.” Mem placed the quiche on the kitchen table. “I'll just go out back and get your dat.”

Lovina hurried to the front door and swung it open. “If you like pie—” Her words stopped short when she saw that it wasn't Noah who stood there. It was a police officer. His car was parked out front.

“Are you Miss Miller?” The police officer looked down at his notepad.

“One of them.” Dread spread through her chest. Had one of her sisters gotten hurt?

“Miss Lovina Miller?” he asked.

“Yes.” She stood there frozen.

“I'm sorry to say there's been a fire at your pie shop.”

“A fire?” Her knees trembled and her mind raced. “I don't understand. I was just there twenty minutes ago.”

“The fire department is still there. If you'd like to come with me …”

She followed him, not knowing what to do or what to think.

“Lovina!”

Dat was at the door behind her. When she turned to look at him the worry on his face overwhelmed her. “Dat…there's been a
fire. At the shop.” With her words the tears came. Had the whole thing gone up? How bad was the damage? She was afraid to ask. Instead, she just opened her arms and allowed Mem and Dat to come to her, grabbing her up in an embrace.

“We'll go with you,” Mem said. “We'll help in any way we can.”

But as Lovina looked to her father's ashen face she knew two things for certain. First, that there was no insurance. Everything lost was lost for good. And second, she knew deep down what had caused the fire. She'd witnessed enough of Mose's pranks not to have any doubt about that.

I should have put an end to it. I shouldn't have let them into the shop,
she thought as she climbed into the front seat of the cop car.

With her heart pounding she turned to the police officer, almost afraid to confirm her fears.

“Can you t-tell me”—her voice trembled—“tell me where the fire started?”

“From what we can tell it started in the office. The fire was caught early, but I'm afraid there's fire damage throughout.”

Lovina nodded but didn't say a word as the officer drove her to the pie shop. And only when she saw the smoke rising did she realize what the visitors coming off the Pioneer Trails bus would see. They wouldn't see a place to gather, but a scorched building.

Why, Lord, why?

She'd given it her all. She'd dared to dream, and what good did it do? Not only had her dream gone up in smoke, but her father's investment too. She was too trusting…and where did that leave her now?

The police car parked in front of the pie shop, and Lovina hurried to the door. Smoke filled the air, stinging her eyes. It poured from the back of the shop and from the front window she'd left open this morning. She tried to rush in—to see the damage—but
a fireman stopped her. “I'm sorry, miss. You can't go in there. It's not safe. We're still checking for hot spots. We have to make sure the structure is safe before we let anyone in.”

The tears came then, and she couldn't hold them back. “Lovina.” It was Dat's voice. “Let's get you back to the car. You need to sit. This is too much for you to take.”

She followed him, and Mem stood by the open door. Her eyes welled with tears. “Oh, Love, I'm so, so sorry.” Mem rarely used her pet name, and hearing it made it even more real.

“Lovina…” Another voice broke through the fog of her emotions.
Noah.

She covered her face with her hands. Gone was the joy she'd felt just half an hour earlier. Hot anger replaced it. She looked up, narrowing her eyes. Noah's face was red. Soot smudged his face. Had he gone into the fire? Had he tried to fight it? She didn't see the teens, and that was a good thing.

“You.” She pointed a finger at his chest. “You were supposed to control them. You told me no more pranks. I knew—deep down I
knew
something like this was going to happen.”

She lowered her head, suddenly ashamed of her words. The Amish way was to forgive. To extend grace. But at this moment there was no grace in her. Lovina pinched her lips together and turned away.

“I don't think…” Noah started and then stopped. She felt his hand on her shoulder. “I'll find out what happened, Lovina. I promise I will.”

Lovina nodded, and suddenly she knew she couldn't stay here. She couldn't listen to the shouts of the firemen. She couldn't see her beautiful shop destroyed. She needed to leave. She needed to get away. She had to put space between herself and her shop before her heart broke into a million pieces.

She moved away from the police car and headed for home.

“I'll go with you.” Noah was at her side.

“No.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Not now. Don't.” The word came out as a hiss. She continued on, thankful he didn't follow. Instead her company was the words that replayed in her mind.

It's gone. The shop's gone. Dat's money is gone. And it's all my fault for being too trusting.

Whatever would her family do now? How would they survive?

As she strode away she realized there was something worse than never chasing one's dream. It was coming so close only to see it destroyed. And her hopes of happiness—of a future—with it.

Thirty-One

A man is happier to be sometimes cheated than to never trust.

A
MISH
P
ROVERB

I
t was dark before Noah made it back to Roy's house. He staggered inside covered in soot and dirt and smelling of smoke. He'd stayed at the scene of the fire all afternoon. The volunteer fire department had put it out and checked for hot spots. And all day long it had seemed like a bad dream. If only he could wake up. If only he could open his eyes and the pie shop could return to the way it had been this morning.

Noah's eyes were burning, partly from the sting of the smoke and partly from the tears threatening to break through. Guilt burdened him down like a physical weight. He hadn't started the fire, but he might as well have. He thought he'd made himself clear—no more pranks. And now not only was the pie shop damaged, but when the cause of the fire was discovered Mose, Gerald, and Atlee would end up where he'd found them: in prison. And then all of this—every last bit of his effort—would come to nothing.

Emotion caught in his throat and he tried to swallow it away. Another pang of guilt shot through his heart.

The image of Lovina's face, distorted in pain and horror, filled his mind. He'd worked so hard to make her dream happen. He'd given his everything, but it wasn't enough. Not only was the pie shop destroyed by water and smoke, but it was his fault. He was the one who'd trusted Mose one more time. He'd seen the panicked look on Mose's face when he ran to tell Noah about the fire. He, Gerald, and Atlee had come upon it—or so they said. They'd tried to put it out, but they claimed it had already spread from the office to the pie shop storage room before they got there.

Fear had filled Mose's gaze. Not fear of the fire, but fear of Noah's response. Then, once the crowd had gathered and started speculating about the cause of the fire, the young men had disappeared. Of course they would run from responsibility. Maybe they hoped no one would figure out they'd been the cause.

Noah coughed out a smoky breath and then opened his eyes. No one was in the kitchen, and an empty pizza box sat on the table. Seeing that box, new anger bubbled up in him.
They couldn't step out this door to help—to face responsibility—but they could step out to buy a pizza?

More coughs erupted from Noah's chest. They tasted like the thick smoke. He quickly moved to the kitchen to get a drink of water. His hand trembled as he lifted the glass to his lips, and it took everything within him not to let the tears come.

In addition to worrying that the teens would end up behind bars, he worried about himself too. He remembered the stench of the cell, the humiliation of being told when to eat, when to sleep, when to use the toilet—and being watched. Always watched. Would they point a finger at him for negligence?

Even as Noah had helped to clear out some of the least
damaged items—carrying them to the lawn to prevent more smoke damage—he'd heard the comments shared by the observers. They'd come up with every conceivable idea for the fire, from messing up the wiring to leaving combustible liquids unattended. But instead of placing the blame on the teens, they all looked at him with suspicion.