Planted with Hope (9 page)

“
Ja
, of course.” He picked up the fork and took another bite of pie.

“Lovina!” The front clerk called to her. A phone was pressed to her shoulder. “We have someone from Sarasota on the telephone. They want to place a big order. A
big
order… I told them they should talk to you.”

“
Ja
, coming,” Lovina called over her shoulder, and then she turned back to Jonas. “When I find
someone
I'll let you know. I have an idea, but… well, just know that it'll be worth the wait.”

“I can be found at the school.”

“At the school then.
Ja, danke
, Brother Sutter.”

He cringed at the name. The students called him Brother Sutter, but he was happy to be called Jonas around town.

“Just call me Jonas,” he called out to Lovina, but she had already hurried away.

Jonas looked back across the table. Emma was sitting there, perfectly still, and as quiet as a church mouse. It was a skill she'd developed over the last few years. With visiting doctors and nurses, Jonas often asked them to speak to him in private, as to not upset Emma. Yet the young girl figured out that if she sat perfectly quiet, perfectly still, her father often forgot she was there and continued with his adult conversations.

Emma removed her hands from her lap and placed them over her mouth. Her eyes widened, and then the smallest giggle released from behind her fingers.

Jonas steepled his fingers and leaned forward. He attempted a serious look, pretending to be stern. “Emma, what do you think is so funny?”

Emma giggled again, and Jonas had a hard time not smiling. His lip twitched, and Emma giggled more.

She lowered her hands. “Lovina said we have to keep a secret.”

Jonas nodded and released a sigh. The bigger a secret Emma felt it was, the harder time she would have keeping it.

He cleared his throat. “Lovina said to just keep it to ourselves for a few weeks. She wants to talk to someone first.”
She wants to talk to Hope first, I hope.

Emma nodded, and her kapp strings bounced as she did. “That's a secret, and we can't tell.” She shook her head from side to side.

“No we can't,” Jonas said as she slid out of the booth. And deep down he was hoping that he'd have at least a few days before word got out. But with an eight-year-old girl involved, he guessed that would be an overwhelming challenge.

 

Old-Fashioned Cream Pie

⅓
cup all-purpose flour

½ cup butter

1 cup brown sugar

2 cups cream

1 unbaked 9-inch pastry pie shell

In a large bowl, blend flour into melted butter. Add brown sugar; mix thoroughly. Add cream and stir until well blended. Pour into pie shell. Bake at 350° for 50-55 minutes. Let cool before serving.

Chapter Six

Faith is the bridge over which we can cross all the unknown waters of tomorrow.

A
MISH
P
ROVERB

H
ope Miller sat at the kitchen table and flipped the calendar, looking at the white squares stretching from January to May, marking off the months in her mind—January, February, March, April, May… that was only five months until she could start gardening up north. Five months until she could return to the life—the lifestyle—she loved.

Earlier in the day, she'd walked to the small Pinecraft post office and mailed the letter to Eleanor, asking if she needed help with the kinder and garden. Eleanor had always been a favorite cousin and hopefully the response wouldn't take too long. Once she knew where she'd garden and the size of the plot, Hope could start flipping through the seed catalogs in earnest. Then maybe her life—her days—would feel more right. More meaningful.

The sound of a car idling outside their cottage told her that some women had stopped to chat on their bicycles. The driver was patiently waiting for them to finish their conversation so he could pass. She lifted the white shade and peeked outside,
noticing three older women talking. From the looks of their kapps they appeared to be from Lancaster. Hope had seen them before, but she didn't know their names. During the season it was hard to keep track of who was coming and who was going. She let the white curtain drop.

The sound of hammering also thumped out loud and clear. Noah Yoder's nephew and friends were putting in a new shed, two doors down, but from the sound of it you'd think they were just outside her front door. Even after living in Pinecraft a year, she still wasn't used to so many people crammed into such a tight space. So much noise.

Hope attempted to ignore the sounds. She pushed the calendar to the side, wondering what else she could do to occupy her day. Without a job she filled her time helping Mem, but there was only so much she could do in this small place, especially something that didn't involve food.

She'd woken up to the spicy smell of apple carrot ginger muffins and devoured three. She never enjoyed baking herself, but she appreciated the treats her mem and sisters made.

She rose to wipe down the kitchen counter once again, considering what her friends back in Ohio were doing. They might be ice skating or having a sewing frolic. Or—like her—flipping through seed catalogs and thinking of a northern spring.

It wasn't that she disliked Florida. Hope liked the beach. She liked wearing flip-flops in December. It was just that she didn't know who she was here. In Walnut Creek she'd been known for her gardening skills. She'd spent seven months in her garden and the other months planning next year's crops. But here? She was simply one of the Miller girls.

The warm Florida breeze coming through the open kitchen window fluttered her kapp strings. She looked out at the hopeless
garden plot. A few thin plants stretched their spindly leaves toward the sun, trying to live. Maybe her crime had been planting them in the first place.

She didn't know how to help them. Didn't know how to make vegetables grow in the sandy soil in their yard. In Ohio, she knew how to test the soil, fertilize it, and plant neat rows. Here, she didn't have the money to seek out good soil and create a better plot.

Hope crossed her arms over her chest and pulled them tight. For so many years her garden had felt like her true home. She closed her eyes, picturing herself stepping into a garden plot, rolling up her sleeves, and sinking down on her knees onto the rich black soil.

I'll be appreciated up north. My work will matter.

It was what she wanted more than anything, and she'd have to return to Walnut Creek, Sugarcreek, or a similar Amish community to find it. Until then she was simply an observer in the world around her. An observer of a world she didn't feel a part of. Out of pure boredom, she picked up another muffin and took a big bite.

From outside the front window came the voices and laughter of two younger women riding by on bicycles. Next door, the whir of a pressure washer mixed with the roar of the water hitting the cement driveway. She glanced at the clock. It was nearly five. She'd missed the gathering at three o'clock to meet the large bus bringing in a new group of snowbirds from up north. Not that she had anyone to greet. Not that she knew many people from Pinecraft to converse with while she waited.

When she first moved to Pinecraft, she used to join her sisters to meet the buses, but she'd given that up. The longing to hop on the bus and head back to Ohio was too great. And then she'd feel guilty—after all, Dat needed to be here. And her sisters seemed to enjoy the place too. They were thriving, especially now
that Me, Myself, and Pie was open and doing well. Only she felt out of place and discontent—the opposite of how a
gut
Amish-woman should be. So to fill time that seemed to stretch out endlessly, she'd go and check on her potted flowers in front of the pie shop. It wasn't a vegetable garden, but at least it was something.

Hope poured herself a glass of milk and took a swallow. She smiled, thinking of the first time she'd met Emma in front of the pie shop. She'd been adorable with the ice cream dripping all over her fingers and chin, yet the young girl's questions had been surprising. The girl seemed older than her age. As if she'd already lived a long life in her few years. Now Hope knew why—Emma's mother's illness and death had caused her to grow up quickly. There was also a maturity in Jonas Sutter's eyes. He'd seen a lot, she knew. But he seemed stronger for it.

A songbird beckoned her outside. Placing the glass of milk on the counter she opened the kitchen door and strode out the back. Emptiness filled her chest as she stared down at the small plot of land that she'd tried to garden last year. It was one-sixteenth the size of her garden in Ohio, but somehow it intimidated her even more.

Hope squatted and took a handful of the freshly tilled dirt, sifting it through her fingers. What would be the cost of bringing in good soil? She had money saved up from nannying little Arnie, but his family had moved away, and she no longer had that job. Besides, if she wished to return to Walnut Creek she'd need every penny to get reestablished. She couldn't waste it on good soil for a small plot she'd be leaving soon.

“So, do you think we need better dirt?” Her dat's voice interrupted her thoughts. He'd gone for a short walk and must have just gotten home. Hope rose and turned to him, brushing off her hands.

“I
know
we need better soil, but I just don't think it's worth it. It's going to cost a lot, and I don't think we'd get a big enough harvest in this small space. Maybe I should forget the whole idea of gardening here in Pinecraft. We can buy vegetables at Yoder's for cheaper than we'll be able to grow them. It just doesn't make sense.”

Dat offered her a sad smile, and she quickly looked away. It was almost as if he could look into her heart and read all the emotions hidden there.

“A garden isn't just about what it produces, Hope. It's about working in union with God and nurturing His creation. I'm your dat, remember? I know a garden is where you think your clearest thoughts and where you escape from the noise of the house—of the world.”

Hope cocked her eyebrows and her jaw dropped slightly. “I—I didn't think that anyone knew that.”

Her dat moved to the swing, and he held the side rail as he sat. He took a deep breath, and Hope watched as it expanded his lungs. He wasn't healthy yet, but he was better. And that made their move worth it.

“You live in a home with four sisters,” he continued, “and they all like to talk. They are so similar to your mother in so many ways. Look at Lovina—she told us the pie shop was for other people to connect with one another, but she's the one always visiting and chatting with her customers. Seeing Lovina in the pie shop I see her truest self—how God made her to be. And Hope, your truest place is in the garden.”

Tears pricked Hope's eyes, and she quickly turned away. “
Ja
, well, it seems that God has different plans for me at this time, doesn't He?” She looked at the sorry little plot of land and tried to hold back the tears. As she took in her own deep breath, the thick, muggy air pressed on her lungs.

“Maybe God does, or maybe He has a surprise for you yet,” Dat said.