Sewn with Joy (7 page)

“No one we know is going to be in it, are they? Be filmed? I can't even imagine,” the red-haired woman said. “I'm sure being a movie star doesn't align with humble living.”

Ruth straightened her shoulders and leaned forward in her chair. “Oh
ne
, the actors are not Amish people. They are just playing Amish, probably from Hollywood, is my guess.”

Joy turned her attention to Jeanette for a response, knowing there would be one.

Jeanette's eyes grew round. Her eyebrows lifted into two pointed arches. “That doesn't seem right—
Englischers
dressing up and acting like us. We do not dress plain for show.”

“They'll never get it right,” Vera echoed.

“
Ja
, we'll know the difference,” Ruth's daughter Hannah admitted as she stitched, head bent down, “but I suppose no one watching television would. And of course, since we don't watch television, how would we ever know?” Hannah was just a few years older than Joy and the mother of twins. Yet even though she was younger than the rest, she had no problem speaking up. The room grew silent, as if each one was considering her words. Hannah was right. Since the Amish didn't watch television, they'd have no idea how they were being portrayed.

“It still doesn't seem right,” Vera Chupp finally said.

Elizabeth cleared her throat, and the others paused and turned. She continued sewing with slow, even stitches, and from the concentrated look on her face, Joy knew she was trying to find the right words.

“The
gut
Lord uses many ways to share His story.” Elizabeth's words were even and measured, just like her stitches. “Don't you think that's what people are curious about—why we've chosen to live this way? We are different, and they wonder why. They are curious, maybe because their lives have become filled with so many other things. And we do it because of God's directives. His Word tells us to live plain lives.”

Elizabeth pulled her needle through the fabric, holding it gingerly between her fingers, and then she looked around the room, gazing at each one. “Say they do make this program. And say we are inconvenienced—as we most surely will be. But if this television program shares why we do these things, why and how we serve God, then maybe people out there will learn about Him. Maybe someone we'd never get to meet in person will hear about our faith and desire to know God better.”

“But it's
television
.” The last word came out of Vera's mouth with a hiss. “If you add a little bit of
gut
into a pot of poison, does it change the fact that it's still poison?”

Joy didn't add her thoughts, but she tended to agree with the others. In fact, it was one of the only times she didn't completely agree with Elizabeth. It didn't seem right that someone's job was to put on a dress and
kapp
and mimic her life. Mimic her faith.

And then, a new realization hit her, and her heartbeat quickened within her chest. She thought of the truck and the loud rumbling on the street, of
Englischers
bringing a moving truck into their small Amish community.

I bet that's what those men were doing last night!
They had to
be part of this television show. Were they going to be filming in that cottage? Was that truck filled with cameras and equipment? A shudder traveled down her spine, remembering the passenger's questions.
“Are you Amish? Do you always wear that scarf to bed at night?”
No wonder he was so interested in her sleeping
kapp
. He was creating Amish characters for a fictional show!

Joy lowered her head and continued her detailed stitching. She was just glad no one saw her last night. How could she explain?

If that man did come and find her, asking questions, she'd turn him away. The last thing she needed was to get on Jeanette's bad side. She wouldn't risk her relationship with Matthew for anything, especially not a television show about the Amish being directed by
Englischers
who wouldn't be able to tell the difference between a scarf and a
kapp
. Surely the bishop would not be happy about this.

 

Hello Dolly Apple Bars

4 cups diced apples (Granny Smith apples are best for this recipe)

1½ cups sugar

½ cup oil

3 eggs

2 cups flour

2 teaspoons baking soda

1½ teaspoons cinnamon

1 teaspoon salt

½ cup chopped nuts

½ cup raisins

1 cup chocolate chips

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Mix all ingredients together and spread into 13 by 9-inch pan. Bake 35 to 40 minutes. Makes 18 bars.
*

*
Mrs. Homer (Martha) Gingerich, Pinecraft, Florida, in Sherry Gore's
Simply Delicious Amish Cooking
(Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2013), 170.

Seven

Only after the rain falls do things begin to grow. The same is true in life—there must be some rain in order for us to grow.

A
MISH PROVERB

T
he sewing frolic had been a success, and while they hadn't quite finished Hope's wedding quilt, it was getting close. After enjoying lunch with the other women, Joy bundled up the quilt top and carried it home. Matthew had mentioned taking a walk in Pinecraft Park together after supper, and she couldn't wait to see him. Couldn't wait to be with him. Couldn't wait to hear more about the plans he had for building a house in Indiana. Each conversation stitched them together. Each dream shared united them in an undeniable way.

Joy couldn't help but whistle a tune as she entered their living room. It was dimmer than usual. The shades had been drawn. Joy moved to the window to open them, but then she stopped short. Her
dat
was lying back in his recliner, and his eyes were closed. He was napping, just as he had been yesterday. Yet something was different. He was still, unmoving, and even in the dim light he looked pale and thin. When had he gotten so thin?

A sinking feeling hit the pit of her stomach, and memories of
how ill he'd been in Ohio flashed through her mind. Was her
dat
getting worse?

She stepped toward him. “
Dat
?”

He stirred from his sleep, and his eyes drifted open.

“Are you all right?”

“
Ja
, just tired, that's all.” His voice was scratchy. His breathing labored. “Some days a body just calls for a nap.”

Joy placed her hand on his. His once powerful hands lay limp, crossed on his chest. She grasped one. His skin was soft and the fingers bony—opposite of the hands that had once commanded a team of horses or stacked tall rows of wood for the fire. They'd moved to Florida because of his health, and an ache pulsated in her chest, making it hard to breathe. For a time it had seemed he was getting better. Had that been only her imagination?

She offered what she hoped was a reassuring smile. “Just a nap.
Ja
, of course. I'm sorry I woke you.”

He squeezed her hand, smiled, and then released it. She stepped back as his eyes fluttered closed again, as if he was unable to resist the pull of sleep.

She hurried to her bedroom and was surprised to see Faith there. She usually worked as a waitress at Yoder's Restaurant during the day, and when she wasn't working that job she often set up her easel at the park or near the creek—anywhere she could find nature to inspire her paintings.

Joy set her quilt top and supplies on her bed. Faith's brow was furrowed as she studied five of her paintings spread out on her bed in front of her.

“You've been doing a lot of paintings lately.” Joy stepped closer to get a better look. “I've hardly seen you around. Something must be inspiring you.”

Faith smiled guardedly. “There are so many beautiful things to
paint.” She still wore her painter's smock over her dress and apron and smelled of oil paint. Yet the peaceful look usually on her face when she was immersed in her art was missing.

Joy studied her sister's furrowed brow and tightly pressed lips. “Is something wrong?”

Faith looked at her briefly, shrugged, and looked back to her artwork. They stood quietly for a moment, and then Faith shifted her weight to the opposite foot. “These are
gut
, but none really stands out. There isn't one I can expect a big price for,” she said, sounding self-conscious.

“So you're going to sell them…all?”

The question caused Faith's eyebrows to turn down. “
Ja,
I am.” She squared her shoulders. “I'm getting ready for the season—the tourists mostly. Lovina said I can hang them on the front wall of the pie shop to sell.”

An unsettled feeling caused the hair on the back of Joy's neck to stand up. She leaned forward earnestly and lifted up a painting of a white farmhouse. It was the house she and Joy could see from their bedroom window back in Ohio. How many days had they awakened to that view? The farmhouse surrounded by a sea of green in spring or golden wheat in summer. Standing out among the red and golden hues of autumn or hiding amid the gray skies and snow-covered ground of winter. Emotion caught in Joy's throat. No one else who viewed this painting would know its meaning. She attempted to swallow the emotion away. “I thought you weren't going to sell this one. It's your favorite.”

Faith released a sigh. “I do like it, but if it brings a little bit of money…well, everything would help.”

“Help for what?” Joy returned the painting to the bed. “Are you saving up your money to return to Ohio? Or…” She searched her mind, thinking of why Faith would need money. “Or do you
have a secret love and you're planning on running away together?” Joy chuckled, but the expression on Faith's face didn't change. Out of all the sisters, Faith was most vocal about what handsome bachelor had caught her eye. She enjoyed playful bantering over the many ways to capture a guy's heart too, but not today.