Planted with Hope (18 page)

“What? What is it?”

“What do you think about the children getting involved in the garden? The children from the Amish school. There are miracles in the soil, don't you think? Art and science too.” He winked. “We can measure plant growth and look at root patterns. We can study clouds, weather patterns, and insects. And then when it's time for harvest, the
kinner
can taste their efforts.”

The joy of the moment faded as if a dark cloud had moved over her. Feelings of anxiety somersaulted through the pit of her gut. Tension built in the center of her chest and crawled outward—a
sharp, creeping heat. Helping one little girl and spending time with Emma was one thing, but she couldn't imagine dozens of students running around, shaking seeds out of packets and climbing over her raised beds. Her stomach ached just thinking about it. The idea of a quiet sanctuary dissipated like the morning dew under the hot Florida sun.

Hoping to hide her worry, Hope pulled a handkerchief from her garden apron and dabbed her forehead.

A brief silence hung over them as she attempted to find her words. “Wouldn't it be hard to walk all this way with the children? It has to be a mile. I'm sure if you asked Noah he could build planters over at the school. There's a grassy area around the side, isn't there?”

Jonas's smile fell. It wasn't the answer he expected.

“That is a possibility, but there isn't great access to a good water source over there. And the only area on the school property that has enough space is on the west side of the building, which is shaded most of the day. I just don't see how that could work.”

The tone of Jonas's voice changed too. A stab of regret dug into her heart. Hope scolded herself.
Be more open… don't always think of yourself now.
Wasn't that part of being Amish, living in a community and caring for each other?

Like Vera had mentioned, the Pinecraft children would benefit from growing a garden. They'd be able to learn a lot too. Also, opening up the garden to the schoolchildren meant that she'd have a chance to spend more time with Jonas. Yet even though it logically made sense, her heart cinched up and refused to submit. What purpose would there be for her to stay in Pinecraft if she didn't have a garden of her own? None. None at all.

“Too much shade and no good water source. Those
are
problems.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Can I think about it?”

The gaiety had disappeared from his eyes, replaced by a troubled frown. “Are you saying you don't want us around?”

Hope bit her lower lip, feeling both selfish and foolish. She'd wanted this garden to be a place of retreat and peace. She was already being invaded by friendly neighbors, and the flow of visitors would most likely increase as word got out.

Bringing children into her space would be even worse. A neighbor might want to watch her work or offer advice, but children could undo her good work. She cringed, thinking of dozens of little hands digging around in her soil, messing with the plants, disturbing new shoots, and interrupting growth cycles as they dug down to check the size of root vegetables or attempted to pull weeds and pulled up the plants instead.

“I'm just saying I want to think about it,” Hope finally answered. “And I need to talk to Lovina. After all she's the one who set up all of this. It was her idea to start with.”

“
Ja
. Of course.” He narrowed his gaze. “So Lovina hasn't talked to you?”

“About what?”

“Oh, just about this garden. About, uh, the ideas for it… ”

Hope threw her hands up in the air. “Can you be more specific than that?”

“Why don't you talk to her? I don't want to get in the middle of it.” He shrugged. “It's just that when she and I talked, I had a different idea of what this whole thing was about.”

Hope glanced up to the sky, wondering when Jonas and Lovina had talked. She was also confused why their conversation hadn't included her. It was as if they had a planned destination when she was just getting used to the idea of going on a journey.

She folded her hands into a tight ball, ignoring the dirt under her fingernails. Then she dared to look at him again. “I will talk
to her. We're supposed to talk tonight, in fact. I'll mention what you said—about the children from the school. And I'll be asking some tough questions myself.”

“Listen, if it's going to be a problem—”

“I'll talk to her.” Hope interrupted his words. She brushed her hands together, wiping off the dirt. Her stomach tightened down again and all the happy feelings of the hours before vanished.

Silence hung in the air, and she turned her back to Jonas. She bent down and sorted through the seed packets, trying to decide what to focus her attention on next. She heard the scraping of a hand rake on the soil, and she glanced up to see that Emma had moved to one of the other garden plots. She pulled the rake through the soil with slow, measured pulls, just as she'd been taught. Her lips were turned down, and Hope had no doubt she'd overheard the conversation.

As Emma worked, her eyes flickered to Hope and then back to her work again.
She just wants my approval. She simply wants to know that things are all right and I'll still be her friend.

The next time Emma glanced over, Hope offered a smile. “You're doing a
gut
job, Emma—just like you were shown.”

The girl nodded, but her sad expression didn't change. Jonas seemed forlorn too. He stood not five feet from her, but they felt worlds apart. He stared up at the tree on the other side of the fence and watched a small cluster of parrots chirping and jumping from branch to branch, but she could tell his thoughts weren't on the birds.

Hope drummed her fingers on the concrete block. Was he thinking about her—thinking about how selfish she was being? It wasn't like she'd asked him to take ownership in this or to help. Maybe Lovina had, but she hadn't. Yet even as she tried to justify her words and actions, she didn't feel better. She'd do anything to
go back to the laughter and smiles from earlier. Emma's slumped shoulders broke Hope's heart.

Hope sighed. She should have held her tongue. She should have told Jonas that they could discuss this later, when Emma wasn't around. Just because Hope didn't want dozens of kids in her garden didn't mean she didn't want Emma around. She hoped the young girl knew that.

Jonas moved down the row, checking all the connections of the pipes to the raised beds as if it were the most important task in the world. A weight settled in the pit of her stomach. She wanted to help him, but something held her back.

Watching him, there was an even bigger conflict in her soul than whether or not she wanted the children in the garden. It was Jonas. The schoolteacher was handsome—too handsome. And the way he looked at her with those dark eyes, it was as if he was peering right into her soul. The more she was around him the more she wanted to be around him, and that didn't make sense for someone who liked to be alone, liked her peace. The more she let him in—let anyone in—the more conflict she'd have in her life. Working alone in her garden was so much easier than letting others in.

Should I open my life to him? My heart to him? What would come of it if I spent more time with him? Is that what I want—who I want—for my future?

Just a few weeks ago she knew what she wanted for her year. She'd made a plan. She'd move in May. She'd already sent a letter asking Eleanor for work, but now she didn't know what she wanted—except to know what Lovina and Jonas were up to.

“I'll talk to Lovina tonight,” she repeated again. “She's too busy at the pie shop during the day.”

“
Ja.
That's fine. Maybe I'll stop by tomorrow to check.”

Hope released a breath, wondering why this was such a pressing matter. “
Ja
, fine.”

She straightened and tried to think of something else to talk about. “So, how's Hannah?”

“My cousin?” He stroked his chin, letting his hand brush down his beard. “Fine, I suppose. She's on bed rest—still has three months to go with her pregnancy. With Ruth Ann tending her, the doctors believe she should be able to make it to 35 weeks… I think that's how you say it.”

“And school's going well?”

“
Ja
. Better than I expected. I teach fourth through eighth graders, mostly girls. They like to read and we're reading some books together. I started reading
Rascal
to the class.”

“I remember our teacher reading that one. Do you change your voice as you read?”

“Of course.”

“That's kind of you. I can't think of many brothers who would do the same.”

“Changing voices?” Finally a smile broke, and Hope was happy to see it.

“
Ne
, teaching school.” She chuckled. Her heartbeat slowed to normal, and it felt good not to have the tension tightening her gut.

“The truth is it was as much for Emma as it was for Ruth Ann. It's been a hard few years, and my sister reminded me that she's just a little girl. I thought the sunshine and meeting new friends would be good for her… and then there's the garden.”

“The garden?”

“It's all she talked about when she found out we were putting it in. I'll apologize in advance—I'm sorry if she doesn't give you a moment's peace.”

“Oh, I won't mind.” Hope glanced over to see Emma studying a ladybug on her finger. “I enjoy having her around. She could be my sidekick every day.” And as Hope said those words their truth resonated within her. She smiled. “I've never had a shadow like her before, and I think I'm going to like it.”

It's just everyone else I have to worry about.

 

Sowing

Nearly all gardeners waste seed by sowing it too thickly. This also wastes labor as the seedlings later must be thinned by hand to a spacing that will allow proper development. Poor growth and poor-quality vegetables are obtained if the seed is sown too thick and the plants are not thinned out to proper spacing in the row. Don't buy more seed than you need to plant. Don't plant more seed than you need to get started.
^*

^*
Victory R. Boswell,
Victory Gardens
, United States Department of Agriculture Miscellaneous Publication No. 483, Washington, D.C., Issued February 1942, 9.

Chapter Fourteen

A man who gives his children habits of industry provides for them better than by giving them a fortune.

A
MISH
P
ROVERB