The Memory Jar (23 page)

He reached out and grasped his father’s foot through the quilt. “The strike? I went to the factory today and turned down the job. You’d have something to say about that, I know. The most important thing to you has always been hard work and a good attitude. But even though I didn’t stay in Montana as long as I’d hoped, I learned a few things …”

Jathan grinned, remembering his time with Amos. “I learned I’m a pretty
gut
shot. I learned there is a woman I hope to get to know better over the days to come. I also learned something else.” He lowered his head and returned his hand to his pocket.

“I’ll never be the Amish man you’ve always wanted me to
be. Instead, I have a mind fixed on business and cooking. No matter how many days I spent out in the workshop with you, I was still more interested in how to make a recipe better and how to run a better business. I was never interested in how to craft a fine piece of furniture, and I jest have to say …” Jathan sucked in a deep breath and then released it slowly. He opened his mouth and then closed it again. His heart pounded. He felt his face flush. How could what he have to say be so hard? It’s not like his father could argue.

Still it was difficult, because the ache behind the words wasn’t just something that had stung in the last few months or years. The words he planned had run through a script in his mind ever since he’d been old enough to know how different he was. Since he’d been old enough to hurry through his chores so he could help with dinner.

“I’m sorry I’ve disappointed you. It was never my intention, but I promise you I will do what I can to provide fer
Mem
. And fer you. And maybe …” Jathan paused and looked out the window in the direction of Sarah’s aunt’s farm. “And maybe if God blesses me, I’ll have a wife to care fer soon. A wife who asks about my dreams and wants to share them. Maybe it’s too early to start thinking about that, but you yerself always told me a
gut
woman is worth her weight in gold. I also like to ponder something I heard said in Montana: ‘There is not a pot so crooked there isn’t a lid to fit it.’” He let his voice trail off.

Years ago, Jathan knew, he would have tried to pound himself into shape — or face his father’s wrath. But now? Things had changed. He had changed. He needed Sarah’s love, that was certain, but he also appreciated someone outside of his family who didn’t have a mind so full of expectations there was no room for dreams.

“But
Dat
,” he continued, “maybe it wasn’t so much becoming
the right shape, as it was finding someone who complements you, who fits who you are.”

He hoped that was the case with him and Sarah.

Jathan looked down and thought he saw the slightest flutter of his father’s eyelids. His heart leaped, and he rushed forward, grabbing his father’s hand.

“Dat?”
Jathan leaned in to touch his father’s face. “Dat, can you hear me?”

There it was, the flutter again. Jathan didn’t know if he should rejoice or cry. Maybe
Dat
had heard. Jathan swallowed hard.

And maybe he had just broken his father’s heart, yet again.

S
arah looked down at her dark blue dress and full, white apron.
Will I fit in?
She touched her prayer
kapp
. Aunt Lynette had come to her room this morning with the gift. The
kapp
she wore in Montana was similar to what the Amish wore in Indiana, with thick fabric and precise folds. The Ohio
kapp
had a different pattern, and women wore it in both black and white. Aunt Lynette had made a white one for Sarah. Even though the style was different, it was close enough for Sarah to still feel like herself as she wore it.

She glanced at the mirror hanging on Aunt Lynette’s wall, most of it covered by a piece of fabric so no one would be tempted to look too long at his or her image. She lifted the fabric just enough — looked just long enough — to gain an ounce of confidence that Jathan would like what he saw. She’d come for work, that was true, but she trusted Jathan had more in mind.

A knock sounded on the front door, and she hurried in that direction. It was six-thirty in the morning. Who could it be at this hour? She glanced at the clock, knowing Uncle Ivan wouldn’t leave for work for another twenty minutes and was still in the barn finishing chores.

Opening the front door and screen, a familiar, smiling face greeted her. Jathan’s curly, blond hair glimmered in the morning sun. “Mornin’.”

“Jathan.”

She stepped forward, and he reached out and took her hands.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“I couldn’t wait. I know I told you not to come in until later, but …” He stood for a long moment, still holding both her hands. His eyes moved from her face to her hair. He smiled and her cheeks grew warm.

“I like yer
kapp
,” he finally said.

“Ja
. Aunt Lynette thought I should wear an Ohio
kapp.”

“Looks nice.”

They stood two feet apart. Her heartbeat pounded like a hammer. She looked at his strong jaw, remembering how she had rested her head there when he’d carried her down the mountain.

He didn’t move and she didn’t either. She wanted to hold on to this moment before the busyness of the day took over. She would never get used to the look in his gaze. The touch of adoration, appreciation it held. She didn’t understand it but liked it all the same.

Footsteps sounded behind her. Aunt Lynette approached. Jathan released her hands and his eyes dropped shyly to his boots for just a moment.

“What are you doing here?” Sarah asked again with a shy smile.

“I thought you’d like a ride to the bakery.”

“It’s a little out of yer way.”

“An extra mile, not too much. Are you saying you’d rather walk?” He winked.

“
Ach, ne
, but I’m not ready quite yet.” She glanced down at her stockinged feet. “Won’t you come in?”

Aunt Lynette was already adding another plate to the breakfast table as Jathan entered. She approached him with an outstretched hand. “You must be Jathan Schrock. My husband, Ivan, went to school with yer
bruder
Joe. They were in the same grade.”

“Ivan,
ja
. I’ve met him around town.”

“Aren’t you in the same church?” Sarah asked. “How far away did you say you lived?”

“Three miles perhaps. But even though I’ve met Ivan around town, we’re in different districts. The churches grow and new ones form.”

“I’ve visited yer
Mem
’s bakery,” Aunt Lynette said. “It’s the favorite in town for authentic Amish bread and such. None of that fancy stuff like you find in other bakeries in nearby towns.”

Uncle Ivan came in from the barn, called a greeting, and began washing his hands at the sink. Three older boys followed him, and Sarah tried to remember their names. Three younger girls had already found their seats at the table, and the youngest child — a boy — peeked around the corner, staring at Jathan with large brown eyes. With big families on both of her parents’ sides, keeping track of everyone’s names was always a challenge for Sarah.

“Fancy stuff in bakeries?” Sarah rubbed her hands up and down her arms. “Like what?” Sarah finally had the nerve to ask.

“Ja.”
Aunt Lynette’s eyes widened. “One bakery in Walnut Creek makes fancy chocolates.” Her words were released in a whisper. “Imagine that. I’d hate to see what folks think up next.” Aunt Lynette clicked her tongue. “They’re acting
so much like the
Englisch
, I wouldn’t be surprised if they jest become
Englisch
themselves.”

Did others feel the same? Would they have a problem if she tried new things too? Sarah glanced at Jathan, hoping to read his expression. Instead, he was kneeling down and playing with her youngest cousin. He didn’t seem bothered by Aunt Lynette’s words. She supposed she shouldn’t be either.

The clopping of the horse’s hooves accompanied them down the street, and Sarah’s heart seemed to clop within as the farmland gave way to the downtown area, which was filled with small shops and various businesses. Even though it was barely 7:30 yet, cars and buggies clogged the roadway. Men and women walked the hilly streets of Berlin, entering shops, watering flowers in front porch planters, and visiting with each other as if it were the most important part of their day.

The area couldn’t be more different than the West Kootenai. In the small community back home, there wasn’t a main street, only dirt roads that traveled in various directions and tall posts with arrows that pointed to family homes. Sure there was the West Kootenai store, Montana Log Works, and the school all within a half mile of each other, but that was “downtown” in the same way Evelyn’s dog, Moe, was a “fine breed.”

Sarah glanced from one side of the paved road to the other, not wanting to miss anything. Unlike the Amish in the West Kootenai, who wore plain garb, the women here seemed partial to beautifully colored dresses. The greens, purples, and blues of their dresses appeared as vibrant as a king’s jewels.

This county seemed more prosperous than the one she’d
moved from. In Montana, women carried in armloads of firewood and could often be seen walking down muddy roads toward the store. In the West Kootenai, colors faded from the hard lifestyle, and folks didn’t have extra money or time to replace their dresses. In the West Kootenai, the women’s dresses were faded from washing and use. In Berlin, the garments seemed so bright and the aprons and bonnets were just so. The dress colors were only slightly subdued by the black aprons, capes, and bonnets some of the women wore here. The only thing plain about these clothes was that they were plainly made.

She glanced at Jathan, who sat beside her in his broad-brimmed hat with low crown. She let her imagination wander to an image of a little boy sitting between them wearing long trousers, a jacket, and a low-crowned hat over his blocked hair. A smile filled her face. She liked the idea of raising children in this community, raising children with Jathan.

“Where are you letting yer mind wander so?” Jathan asked.

“Ach.”
She readjusted herself in her seat. “Just thinking of the days ahead and lookin’ forward to, uh, spending time in this community. Getting to know the people better.”

“I like that, Sarah. I was worried you’d miss home too much …”

“
ne
, not so much. At least not yet. I know I will, but I also know the missing’s not enough to make me want to return.” She watched the strong muscles of the horse’s back flexing as it pulled them. She knew what Jathan was going to ask next.

“Really? Why’s that?”

Sarah smiled. “I’m ready for this. I’ve had a good life in Montana,
ja
, but being there keeps me fixed on all that’s in the past. I didn’t know I was ready for new scenery and a different challenge with my baking until I was on my way here. I didn’t
know my heart had only been beating a half beat until …” She let her voice trail off and studied her hands on her lap.

“Until what, Sarah?”

She blinked quickly, then dared to look at him. “Until I met you.”

He nodded and his face brightened, as if lit by a kerosene lantern from within. Then he pulled the buggy up in front of a building, parking it. “Is this the type of place you’d imagine working in?”

Sarah followed his gaze. It was a small log building on a side street. It looked a bit tired, and as if it had been there for years, but she smiled. Amos had been right. It did look like a smaller version of the West Kootenai Kraft and Grocery.

“Imagine that.” She allowed him to help her down. “To think there’s two peas in a pod, but they’re halfway across the country apart.”

“I wish our place was half as nice inside as the West Kootenai store. It’s been in the family for years. One of my uncles used to sell farm supplies and feed here. Maybe I should have warned you about its condition before you came. But one of the first things I’ll be doing is fixing it up — not the equipment, not jest yet — but jest things to make the place look newer and more welcoming. I want yer advice and help too. You’ve worked fer Annie fer years. Please don’t be shy in telling us what changes need to be made. I want this business to succeed. I need it to succeed.”

Sarah nodded. She understood. This was the first step of their dream. To fail here would be to shut the door on having their own place someday, on their future.

Sarah leaned forward and looked closer. “Is it open? It looks dark inside.”

“
Ja
, my aunt should be there, and
Mem
is coming over
once my sister Connie arrives to care for
Dat
. If she doesn’t make it today, she said to count on her tomorrow fer certain.

“From what
Mem
told me last night, because of
Dat
’s stroke, the bakery has been shut down more than it’s been open the last few weeks,” he continued, “but folks around town have been understanding. Some customers paid fer orders they knew they wouldn’t receive, jest to help out
Mem
… but with Connie caring for
Dat
during the day,
Mem
’s hoping to be completely back in business by the end of the week.”

“Maybe I can help with that,” Sarah said as she followed Jathan inside.

The wood floor was clean but worn. Three small wooden tables with chairs were set up for customers. Lanterns hung overhead, but were dimmed down. The best part was the beautiful wood and glass display case. It was only filled a quarter of the way with baked items, but seeing how little was in it made Sarah want to roll up her sleeves.

She pointed. “Did yer
Dat
make that display case?”

“
Ja
, five years ago, I’d guess.”

“It’s lovely, jest lovely.”

Hearing the sound of their voices, an older woman exited the kitchen wearing a cooking apron.

“Sarah, this is Aunt Kay, one of
Mem
’s sisters.”

“Hello. I —” Sarah stepped forward to shake the woman’s hand and was pulled into a quick embrace.

“Sarah, dear, you’ve come. I’ve been praying fer
gut
help. And look what God has done. Both you and Jathan here are answered prayers indeed.” Kay wagged her finger in the air. She looked to be about fifty and was rail thin. The only family resemblance to Jathan were the two dimples that highlighted her face when she smiled. “Don’t let this tall, handsome boy
fool you.” Kay patted Jathan’s cheek. “He can do any work around the farm, but unlike most men, he also knows how to bake and cook. In fact, I don’t know if he told you about his cornbread yet, but mine never turns out half as
gut
as his.”