Fearless Hope: A Novel (25 page)

“No. It is not a tall order. It is my job, and an honor.”

“Do you ever pray for other people?”

“All the time,” she said. “Why do you ask?”

“Would you consider praying for me?”

She stopped rocking and listened intently. “In what way?”

“I feel like I’ve been wandering around in a dark forest for a long time.” He struggled for words. “And I don’t know how to find my way out.”

“Ah.” She nodded and resumed her rocking. “Then it has begun.”

“What has begun?”

“Your finding your way out of that forest. I’ve been praying that might happen for you ever since I learned that an
Englisch
man had moved in next door.”

“Why?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Her voice held a hint of humor. “It just seemed like the neighborly thing to do.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“You can ask me anything,” Esther said. “I may not know the answer, but I’ll answer honestly.”

“I have a problem.” He wondered if he was being foolish, but something told him that Esther could be someone who
might have an answer. He briefly described what had happened during the church service. “Do you have any earthly idea what might be going on?”

Esther was silent for a long time. “Hope came to visit me the other day. She said that you were rather broken when you first came. She says you are getting better. By any chance does your mother pray for you?”

“Yes. Why do you ask?”

“Because a mother’s prayers can be a powerful thing. I wonder if God might have answered them by leading you here. Do you suppose He might have deliberately brought you to this place where you might find this healing?”

He found Esther’s faith sweetly innocent and childlike. He didn’t want to hurt her feelings, but he was a little disappointed in her answer.

“I can’t imagine God telling me where to live,” he said. “I’m sure He has better things to do with His time.”

“I don’t know about that,” Esther said. “I’ve found that it is unwise to put God in a box and try to define what He will and won’t do.”

“Mother?” Mary came to the screen door holding a sweater in her hand. “Are you chilly?”

“Come out and say hello to our neighbor, Mary,” Esther said. “He finally got the courage to come back to see us.”

Mary came out and handed the sweater to Esther—who obediently put it on. Then she sat down beside Logan. “I’m glad you decided to come back after that interrogation Ivan tells me Caleb put you through.”

“That’s okay. Frankly, I’m a little envious that your other children have had a big brother who is that protective of them.”

He saw a shadow pass over Mary’s face, but then she put on a determined smile. “Our Caleb has had his struggles, but he is a good man.”

Logan did not ask what Caleb’s struggles were. He already knew. It could not be easy to forever carry the burden of responsibility for a child’s death. He searched his mind for a less emotional topic.

“Ivan was just telling me about your family’s upcoming trip to Haiti. Are you going?”

“No, I’m not,” Mary said. “I have the best job of all. I get to stay home and be the grandmother. Someone needs to be available if children get sick or Prudy has her baby. I help make it possible for Ivan and the boys to go. Ivan says he invited you to go along.”

“Yes, but I doubt I could be much help.”

“You should go.” Mary put her hand on his arm. “Honestly, Logan. You should. They could use the help and it would change your life.”

“You need to go.” Esther echoed Mary’s words.

“Mom?” Now it was Caleb at the door. “Who are you talking to? Oh, hi, Logan.”

The next thing Logan knew, the entire family had come out to the porch and he was surrounded by a well-meaning, enthusiastic family who seemed to think that the thing he needed most in life was to get his shots, update his passport, and join them on the trip to Haiti.

He made no promises, but deep down he was beginning to think that it might be wise for him to go. Maybe it would help him find his way out of the forest.

T
he girl that Hope had chosen to take her place as housekeeper showed up the very next morning. He was surprised that Hope had taken so little time to find her replacement. She must have made the arrangements while having dinner with the church.

Agatha was awkward and shy. The poor girl could also have used a good dermatologist. She burned his toast, the bean soup was unsalted, and the potatoes she fried to go along with the beans were dripping with grease.

If Hope was not such a person of integrity, he would be suspicious that she had chosen Agatha deliberately so that he would miss her all the more—which he did.

It turned out that Simon
could
cook, and over the next few days the boy took it upon himself to help Agatha. At first, Logan thought it was merely a matter of survival on Simon’s part. Then he realized that Simon and Agatha had taken an immediate liking to each other and there was much awkward flirting going on in his kitchen. This worried him. He had never expected to find himself in the position of having to be a chaperone for two Amish teenagers, and he wasn’t sure how to go about it. As the week drew on he realized that he needed to
find something to occupy Simon besides the new housekeeper.

He knew that morals had changed for society at large, but he had a strong suspicion that they had not changed at all for the Amish and that if his new housekeeper ended up getting pregnant on
his
watch, he would have some explaining to do.

He left several messages on Hope’s phone shanty answering machine, but she did not return them. He understood her reasons, but he really needed help with the developing situation between Agatha and Simon and he didn’t know who else to ask. He also needed recipes. Lots and lots of Hope’s recipes. He had not thought it possible to find an Amish girl who couldn’t cook, but Hope had managed it.

Finally, when she continued to ignore his phone calls, he gave up and decided to take a different tack. She’d given him no choice.

•  •  •

“What are you making,
Mommi
?” Carrie asked as they sat together in their kitchen.

“I’m making a card to try to get some work.” Hope finished the little flower border she’d made the first time.

“It’s pretty.”

“Thank you, Carrie.”

“Can I help?”

“I’m finished now, but you can play with these.” She gave Carrie some crayons and blank cards to color.

It broke her heart to stop working for Logan, but that was the point. Her mother had been right to warn her. She had grown too attached to him, just as her mother had feared. Talking with him was a pleasure that she had looked forward to from one day to the next. When he went to New York, her heart felt the void, and her heart lifted the minute she saw his car in the driveway. She was treading on very thin ice.

Until he had pulled her into his arms, she had been able to pretend to herself that there was no danger. The day of worship at his house had changed all that. She could pretend no longer. Now she had no choice.

The problem she faced was, who else would want to hire a pregnant woman with two small children in tow? Silently, she bowed her head and prayed for God to intercede in her life. All she asked for was the means to care for her family.

She thought through her marketable skills again. She could cook, sew, do housework, and raise children. Perhaps after the baby came, she could babysit for others, although that did not pay very well. Once again her mind went to the dream she’d had since she was a little girl trotting around the farm behind her father. Having her own land. Making her own decisions about livestock and crops. She had always subscribed to two farming magazines and read every word—not because she thought anything would ever come of it, but because the subject fascinated her.

She’d tried to interest Titus in a sheep breed she’d read about that produced not only marketable meat but decent-quality wool. There was a market for lamb in Cleveland and Columbus in the ethnic restaurants. With all the interest in sustainable farming practices and a growing market for organic, grass-fed meat, she thought there might be a business opportunity there.

Plus, she was fascinated with the idea of having wool to work with. Her mother had an old spinning wheel that had belonged to her grandmother and still knew how to use it. Hope longed to spin her own wool and dye it with natural substances. The tourist market being what it was in Holmes County, she had a suspicion that hand-spun wool might bring in a modest income, especially if the tourists could purchase it at a real Amish home where they could see the grazing sheep from which the wool had been produced.

It would involve purchasing a different breed, but sheep milk could be made into a rich soap, good for the skin, that could also be sold. Making soap and yarn would be something her children could help with. Creating a strong work ethic in their children was key to their survival as an Amish people, and her mind naturally worked that way.

The good thing about sheep, also, was the fact that sheep manure contained more nitrogen, phosphorus, and potassium than horse or cow manure. It could be used to help build up the land to produce better crops.

An Amish schoolteacher she knew was doing well with an organic chicken farm. Both chickens and rabbits produced excellent, rich manure for vegetable growing. She’d recently read that there was also a growing market for rabbit meat.

Ideally, an organic farmer could create a sustainable cycle in which rabbits thrived on the discards from the vegetables that their very waste helped produce. Of course, there was the possibility of selling baby bunnies as well—another potential job for Adam and Carrie.

Sustainable farming practices and diversity. That’s what she believed would keep the small family farms in business.

The problem was she could raise only four ewes per acre, and this small piece of land she was renting was simply not big enough. There was also the problem that those ewes, chickens, rabbits, chicken houses, rabbit cages, and feed, cost up-front money that she did not have.

It was so terribly frustrating. She knew she had the knowledge, energy, and will to create a healthy living for herself and her children. Except for two things. She did not have enough land, and she did not have enough money to get started. Unless God gave her a miracle, she would be eking out an income by cleaning houses for other people the rest of her life.

She asked God for forgiveness for her rebellious heart! Since
she had quit work at Logan’s, she missed the ease of the electric lighting and appliances at his house, and every time she pulled out onto a busy highway with her children in that buggy, she questioned the wisdom of their bishops’ decision to forbid cars. She had no doubt that good Mennonites like Ivan and Mary and their families were going to heaven, too, so why did she have to put her children in danger?

Quickly, she said another prayer asking for forgiveness for her bad thoughts. Yes, she was tired. Yes, she was frustrated. Yes, she was uncomfortably pregnant, but that did not give her the right to be angry about her position in life. The Amish believed that the way things were was the will of God. Unless He showed her differently, she would try to stay on the path He had chosen for her.

“See,
Mommi
?” Carrie held up her crayon drawings. Hope tried to admire her little girl’s efforts, but all she wanted to do was cry.

Her mother was planning to come by this morning, and Hope was not surprised when there was a knock on the door. She didn’t even bother to put on her head covering before answering it.

To her shock, it was not her mother. It was Logan—the last person she expected to see standing on her doorstep. The last person she
wanted
to see.

“You either need to write out all of your recipes, in
detail
, or that housekeeper you gave me has to go,” he said.

“Why?” She tried to look innocent, but she had known all along that Agatha’s cooking was substandard. It served him right for breaking through the fragile wall they had built between them. “Is her cooking not to your liking?”

“You must have had to look very hard to find an Amish woman who can’t cook!”

“Not really.” Hope tried to hide a smile and failed. “Many
in our Amish community have learned to avoid Agatha’s contribution to potlucks. She needed a job and I hoped her cooking would improve with time.”

“Time is the one thing I can’t afford. Her cooking is slowly improving, but it’s her affection for Simon that’s beginning to worry me. I’m assuming the Amish are not thrilled with an unwed pregnancy.”

“Agatha is
pregnant
?”

“Not to my knowledge. She’s only been working for me a week, but if you don’t get her out of there and away from Simon, I think it could become a strong possibility. I didn’t sign up to be a babysitter for two Amish teenagers with raging hormones.”

“This is indeed a problem.” She tapped her lower lip.

“Come back to work for me,” he pleaded. “I’m sorry, Hope. I know I stepped over a line last Sunday. I’ve kicked myself a hundred times for it. You were right to walk away. If you’ll just come back I promise to stay in my office when you’re there working. Or, if you prefer, I’ll leave the house completely when you’re there. Just tell me what I need to do and I’ll do it.”

“Agatha’s cooking must be worse than I thought,” Hope said. “I had better hurry with those recipes!”

“It isn’t just the cooking and you know it. Hearing you talk to your children, or sing as you work around my house. It’s . . . it’s important to me. I haven’t been able to write well since you left. I miss hearing the chatter and laughter of your children. The house feels lonely without you coming in every day.”

“It would not be wise for me to continue to come.”

“Of course it would be wise,” he argued. “You need a job. It will be hard for you to find one you can manage with the baby coming. At my house you can take breaks whenever you want and put your feet up, or take time off when the baby comes and start back slowly whenever you feel up to it. The one thing I can’t bear is for you and the children to go without because I
was upset, and you were kind. It was a moment of weakness. It won’t happen again.”