Authors: Tricia Goyer
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.
S
arah 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.”
“Are you visiting family in Charm?” Sarah readjusted the toddler on her hip.
“Uh, my sister’s sewing circle is at noon. And before that …” She glanced at her friend. “We’re jest heading to the fabric store fer some supplies.” The woman’s cheeks reddened, and Sarah wondered if they were going to ask why she left. Then again, they most likely already knew. The Amish had their way of spreading news like that.
She imagined their words,
“Poor dear. She had fancy ideas … Doesn’t she know we’re plain folk?”
Sarah wanted to ask if they’d been to the bakery lately, but she didn’t want to hear if things had returned to how they had been. She didn’t want to hear that all her hard work — all her ideas — had been for nothing.
“Have a
gut
day then.” She led Helen away. “Enjoy yer sewing circle!” she called over her shoulder and quickened her steps before they could see the disappointment in her gaze. Without warning, two tears slid down her cheeks.
A keen, sharp pain stung her heart at the thought of having failed Jathan’s mother, the bakery, and Jathan.
On the way to the Charm General Store, Sarah passed by Miller’s Dry Goods and Fabrics, the store the two women had been headed to. Laughter and conversation poured out of the open front door and she paused in her tracks. Could it be? She took a few steps up the sidewalk and Jathan’s voice was clear.
“This fabric looks
gut
enough to eat.” Tears sprang to her eyes, but she didn’t know what she was so upset about. That he’d come to Charm without stopping by to visit … maybe to drop off a piece of furniture. Had all of Berlin come this way?
Sarah quickened her steps, clinging tightly to Helen’s hand. “Hurry,” she urged the little girl. “Faster.”
Helen fussed beside her and Sarah looked down to see her struggling to keep up the pace.
“I’m so sorry.” Sarah scooped the toddler onto her other hip and hurried on to the general store, refusing to look back to see if Jathan was exiting the fabric store yet. Tears filled her eyes and her throat grew hot and thick. He was a good man, she knew, but she couldn’t have a relationship with someone who lived under the strict demands of his family. Even if he came around, she told herself not to keep her heart looped to his. When she became a wife, she wanted to be the most important person in her husband’s life other than God. She didn’t want to have to vie for her husband’s attention. She didn’t want to have to beg him to share his heart.
Patty was the first to enter the old log cabin. It was the second time they’d come here, and they’d only done so at Patty’s insistence. Coming here made Sarah wonder about the people who’d left all these things. Realizing they were items people cared for and treasured caused her stomach to do flips. It didn’t seem right to sift through someone’s memories
.
“Look!” Patty held up a small gold key. It was dusty but otherwise in good condition. “It’s a strange key.”
She held it out and Sarah took it between her fingers. “It looks like it’s from a wind-up clock. My
oma
in Kentucky used to have one like that.”
“Do you remember much about Kentucky?”
“Not much. I remember my
opa
holding me up so I could turn the key in the clock. I —”
“Look at this!” Patty’s words interrupted Sarah’s sentence
.
Sarah glanced at the rusty piece of metal and wrinkled her nose. “It’s a chain from an old bike.”
“
Ja,
but I think it’s beautiful.” Patty took some wire that was sitting on the counter and formed two hooks. She twisted the hooks onto the ends of the chain and then, wrapping the chain around her arm, twisted the hooks together
.
Sarah placed a hand to her head. A bracelet? What would Patty think of next?
Patty chuckled as she glanced over at Sarah. “Do not worry, Sarah Shelter. I know this is jewelry and is forbidden. I know not to wear the bracelet anywhere else but in the forest. I know the rules …” Her voice trailed off. “I also know when to break them. When to allow myself room to explore without damaging anyone’s feelings or ideas.”
“Oh, Patty.” Sarah shook her head. “Must you really be so dramatic over a simple piece of chain?”
Patty gasped and placed a hand over her heart. “Sarah, don’t you know it wasn’t a chain but a bracelet all along? It jest took me to see it … and to wear it. Sometimes it’s the outside observer who knows the truth best all along. Sometimes you jest need to open yer eyes and see …”
Sarah had thought she needed to wait until she was in a settled, peaceful place to look into Patty’s memory jar, but when the light of hope threatened to be blown out by her very next breath, Sarah knew she couldn’t wait any longer.
Esta, the baby, and Roy J. had just gone to bed. Helen and Jonah had been sleeping for hours already. There was no better time, but still Sarah held her breath as she poured out the contents of Patty’s jar.
A small compass, an old padlock, a Scrabble piece, a dog tag for a dog named Lady, Canadian coins, a locket, wooden sewing spools, and a rock Sarah clearly remembered — one Patty had been sure was an arrowhead.
Sarah laid out more of the items. Three tiny apples they’d formed out of polymer clay and painted. A brass antique whistle that was rectangular and flat.
“Patty, this wasn’t how things were supposed to work out. We were going to grow up, get married, raise our children together,” Sarah whispered. “I can’t do this without you … I’m so uncertain.”
She closed her eyes and gripped her fist on her lap. A memory surfaced, not of their time together, but of a dream she’d had. She’d been strolling down a country road with a wooden fence lining it. She held the hand of a small girl, and they walked with slow steps. She knew she was going to Patty’s house, but the road stretched on. She couldn’t see the house in the distance even when she knew it should be there. Where was the house? Her heart began to pound and just as she began to panic, she’d awakened to moonlight streaming through the window.
Had that dream been preparation for what was to come? Had God been telling her that she’d lose much for a while but someday she’d be able to spend eternity with Patty in their forever home?
Sarah was just about to put all the items back in the jar when she noticed something was wrapped around one of the spools. Her heart pounded as she pulled it off. Tears sprang to her eyes when she unfolded it.
A letter from Patty!
Dear Sarah
,
If you find this letter, it means one of two things
.
You’re digging in my jar — maybe looking for that snail’s shell you found down at the lake on your birthday. I put it in my pocket after looking at it and forgot to give it back to you. I kept it because it reminds me of that day
.
If you’re not looking for something, it could mean something else — that I’m gone from this earth. You, of all people, would be the one to ask for my jar. Everyone else would think it was junk
.
I have no plans of leaving earth earlier than you, but maybe it’ll happen. Heaven knows of all the times we’ve raced on foot, you’ve only beat me once, and that was the same day I sprained my ankle jumping down from Dat’s apple tree. But deep down, I wonder if it’s going to happen. Maybe that’s the reason I’m writing this letter
.
I’ll admit this only to you, but sometimes, at night, I can hear a fluttering outside my window. For a while, I thought for certain it was the owl that lives in a nearby tree. Or maybe bats. But every time I rise to look, I don’t see a thing. The night is dark as the inside of a black cow and there isn’t a stitch of movement
.
When it started happening more often, I prayed to God about it. And I had this warm feeling that moved in the center of my chest, right near my heart. It’s felt as if God sent special angels to watch over me. Maybe it’s the fluttering of their wings. Or maybe they’re waiting around to take me to heaven
.
If that is the case, Sarah, I have some parting words for you: Every day, you can choose to be part of God’s creative process. I’m not talking about making things. Rather
I’m speaking of allowing God to form you. We, God’s people, are his greatest creation, but it’s easier to tend our gardens than our souls. Not that I have everything all figured out, but I’ve been watching you. God has made you a unique design. Never forget that. Also know that God’s made someone else to be your fit, to see your specialness as I do. Sometimes you’re a timid thing, but if you find the right guy, be bold. Be bold! You don’t want to look back at your years with regrets. Regrets have no place in your memory jar
.
All my love
,
Patty