Sewn with Joy (24 page)

“How…how do you know? I've been too scared to talk to you.”

“I've watched you. Just like you've been keeping track of me, I've been keeping track of you. Just like the Amish proverb says, ‘You know a woman's heart by the life that she lives.'”

“That's an Amish proverb?” She chuckled despite her tears. “You seriously just quoted an Amish proverb to me?”

Rowan wiped at his eyes too and laughed. “No, I completely made it up, but it sounds like something Joy would say, doesn't it?”

“
Ja.”
Alicia laughed. “I mean, yes, it does.” She let her shoulders drop, and the boulders of pain and shame she'd been carrying around over the last year seemed to tumble off them. “So you forgive me? For what I've done?”

Rowan nodded. “It still hurts. I too am missing all we lost, but I do forgive you. I've messed up too much in my life not to.”

Their salads arrived. Looking down at hers, the last thing Alicia wanted to do was eat. Too many emotions were surging within her—thankfulness mixed with all the painful memories. She picked up her fork and moved a tomato from side to side, and then she got up the nerve to ask the question she'd wanted to ask since arriving in Florida. “So where does that leave us?”

Rowan's eyebrows shot up, and she could tell the question surprised him. He took a few bites of his salad, as if he was trying to find the right words.

“I don't want you to get your hopes up,” he finally said. “I don't mean to sound harsh, but I've been making a lot of changes in my life. I'm a different person. I can't let myself…well, let's just say I can't let myself be put in a place where I put you in front of other things anymore.”

Good thing he didn't want to sound harsh.

“Like work?” She picked up a crouton and tossed it into her mouth. Confusion filled her mind, and her sadness morphed into anger. Was this what he'd planned all along? To draw her in, treat her with kindness, trick her into apologizing, and then cast her away? To get back at her for hurting him?

“No, like God.”

“God?” The word sputtered out, and Alicia almost choked on her crouton.

“You know I was raised by my grandparents, and faith was a big part of their lives.”

She tried not to smirk, but it was hard. “Yes, and I also know you left all that behind when you moved to Hollywood. If you told me once, you told me a hundred times.”

“It's true, but it's also true that it's often during our darkest times that we truly understand what matters most. When I had nowhere else to turn, I rediscovered God. Actually, He'd been waiting there all long.” He took another long drink of water and then focused on her eyes. “I hated what happened to us, but if it hadn't happened I'd still be feeling lost and empty inside. I know that doesn't make sense, but I forgave you a long time ago.”

“No, it doesn't make sense. Well, not completely, but I'm glad you're happy.” The slightest amount of tears came again, and she told herself not to cry. She shouldn't be sad. She should be happy that he'd forgiven her. That should help her go on with her life, right? But even though she was happy to see Rowan was doing
so well, she felt betrayed. In a strange way, she'd almost rather have him be mad at her than this. Being mad would prove that he cared, but he was saying the pain she brought him made him realize what he really cared about…and it wasn't her.

“Listen.” Alicia pushed back her plate. “I'm not feeling well. My head is pounding. And I'm not very hungry after all.” She stood. “But I'm glad we had a chance to have this talk. I'm glad I know where everything stands.” And then she strode away.

Her footsteps quickened, and her heart did too as she left Rowan sitting there. She was thankful that he'd found some sense of healing. But how could she—a frail human with more issues than she knew what to do with—ever compete with God for his love? She couldn't, which meant she'd continue to be alone. All she had left now were the memories of what they used to have—and what they used to be—together.

 

Pumpkin Spice Cake

½ cup solid vegetable shortening

1¼ cups sugar

2 eggs, beaten

1¼ cups all-purpose flour, sifted

2½ teaspoons baking powder

½ teaspoon baking soda

1 teaspoon salt

2 teaspoons ground cinnamon

½ teaspoon ground ginger

½ teaspoon ground nutmeg

1 cup pumpkin puree

¾ cup milk

½ cup chopped nuts

Cream shortening, gradually adding sugar until light and fluffy. Blend in beaten eggs. Add pumpkin puree and milk; stir and set aside. Sift together the dry ingredients, then add to the pumpkin mixture, stirring well. Stir in chopped nuts. Bake in greased 9-inch layer pans at 350 degrees for 30 minutes.

Twenty-Two

If at first you don't succeed, there will be plenty of advice.

A
MISH PROVERB

I
t was Friday afternoon, and Joy released a sigh of relief when the last of the filming was done for the week. She'd stayed throughout the day and watched the takes just to make sure they got everything right, but after two weeks of guiding the actors she'd had to point out very few mistakes. There had even been some moments when she'd forgotten they were
Englischers
playing parts. It seemed as if they were just Amish friends and she was getting a peek into their lives.

As she was gathering up her belongings to head out, Rowan strode toward her with an envelope. “I'm sorry it took so long to get this to you. I've had to deal with accounting and all that.”

Joy took the envelope.
“Danke.”

Rowan cocked his eyebrow. “I know I should know what that means by now, but…”

“Thank you,” she translated.

“Thank
you
, Joy. This show wouldn't be the same without you. I hope you understand that.”

She nodded, remembering her first impression of Rowan.
He'd been tired and frustrated that first night when he'd been lost and she'd helped him, but over the weeks she'd discovered how gentle he was. Even when things went wrong, he didn't yell or get upset, unlike some of the others on the set.

She strode out of the warehouse studio and walked straight to the bank. “Thank You, Lord, for providing.” Once she got there, she found the lobby was empty. She stepped up to the counter and noticed a new face. It belonged to a young Mennonite man with an inviting smile.

“How can I help you today?”

“I'd like to deposit this check into my father's account. He's John Miller. It should be under John and Anna Miller.”

He tapped away in the computer. “Yes, I see it.” He took the envelope from her hands and opened it. His eyes widened slightly. “Do you want to deposit all of it in there?”

“
Ja
, I do.”

“Good. I can do that. I just need you to sign your name.” He slid the check toward her, and for the first time she saw the amount. Joy sucked in a breath. She couldn't believe it. There must be some mistake. She looked into the envelope and found a slip of paper where the amount was broken down by tasks and hours. There was money for the dresses and money for her consultation. The amount she was paid each day to be on set was more than she usually made in a month working in Elizabeth's shop. Her heartbeat quickened, and the idea of her father's therapy became a reality before her eyes.
It could happen. It really could happen.

“I take it by the way all the color has drained from your face that you hadn't actually looked at the check before now?”

“
Ne.
”

“The TV show must pay more than you expected. Is the filming going well, Joy?”

She looked at the check more closely and then eyed the man again. The check was made out to her, but even if he knew a Joy Miller was working for the TV show, how was he so sure she was that Joy Miller? How did he know the check was from the TV show? It was from a company she'd never heard of. Was everyone in town really watching her that closely—even people who weren't Amish? Did they all believe she was being prideful and doing her own thing despite what the bishop thought? That's what Matthew believed. Most likely that's what everyone else in town believed too.

Anxiety tightened the muscles in her neck and crawled down the back of her arms. Grace said everyone in town—and beyond—had been talking about the television show and about her. She'd thought that was an exaggeration. Now she realized it wasn't.

“I…I believe the filming's going well. Thank you for asking.” Her voice quavered, and she thought of Elizabeth's words from yesterday. Joy had stopped by to check her schedule, and the older woman had taken time to encourage her and to pray.

“If you've gone to the Lord, and you believe you're doing the right thing, then trust in that,” Elizabeth had said. “Sometimes it takes some people longer to come around, but if they're open to God's voice they eventually will.”

Matthew's face filled her mind. She also thought of the bishop's order not to get involved with the
Englischers
.
I don't have anything to be ashamed of. This is a blessing. It's a way of provision.

“So it's a lot more money than you expected?” the man asked.

“I never asked what I would be paid, but I am thankful, especially with my
dat
's medical bills.”

“You don't have to explain, and you don't have to worry. Your banking is always confidential with us.”

“Danke.”
She took the receipt from his hand. “That's
gut
to know.”

Joy was sure the man's eyes stayed on her as she walked away. Would he really keep her personal business to himself?

“It doesn't matter,” she mumbled as she left. “I know what I'm doing and why.” And then, as the warm breeze outside caused her hem to flutter, Joy sent up a prayer.
Help me focus on Your opinion of me, God. It's the one that matters
.

Joy quickened her steps as she walked, eager to talk to Faith. Just a few more weeks like this and they'd have enough to provide for their
dat
's first treatment. She never imagined it would happen so quickly, but she was thankful. No matter what anyone thought, God's plan for her to work with the television show was clear.