Thankful (3 page)

Now she felt even more like a child. “I'm sorry for the trouble.”

“It's no trouble, Christy. I told you, no matter what, I'll always look out for you. Always and forever.”

Yes, he had told her such things. And she'd always counted on his promises. But, unfortunately, today she was feeling like yet another responsibility for him. Feeling even more deflated, she said, “All right. Um, see you around four.”

Hanging up the phone, she wondered if anything would ever change between them. If today's conversation was any indication, it was obvious that all her hopes and dreams were destined to remain merely figments of her imagination.

“He certainly seems like a caring person,” Jana murmured from behind her shoulder. “I couldn't help but overhear. He's going to drop everything and come get you?”

“
Jah
. Well, he's going to tell his supervisor that he needs to leave to come get me.”

“Well, that's what brothers do for their little sisters.”

Something about that bothered her to no end. She was tired of making him into something that he wasn't. “Aden is very caring and kind. But he is definitely not my
bruder
.”

A pair of fine lines appeared between Jana's brows. “I'm sorry. I thought he lived with you?”

“Aden does, but he's not my
bruder
. He's only lived with us for ten years.”

Jana rested her hands on her hips. “Hmm. Well, all right, then. Now, you'd best go take care of table twelve. I think they're ready to give you their order.”

Christina pulled out the little notepad from her apron and got to work, only a little embarrassed that she'd been so curt with her boss. But there were some things she just couldn't joke about.

And her mixed-up relationship with Aden Reese was one of them.

O
ver at the cash register, Jana Kent scanned the last hour's receipts with a sinking heart. It seemed that no matter what she did, she wasn't achieving the increased bump in business she'd been so hoping for.

She'd never imagined that her life would be so stressful at fifty-eight. Of course, she hadn't imagined Harrison would have died suddenly twelve years ago. At forty-six, she'd become a widow and sole proprietor of an Amish restaurant that had been her husband's dream, not hers.

At first, she'd welcomed the business and the work. She'd been proud of herself for being independent, glad to be so busy, and so grateful for her employees. Most of the women were Amish and had taught her quite a bit about patience and faith. They'd become good friends, too.

But now she was wishing she were one of the women she was currently serving meals to. She'd like nothing more than to hop in her car and go for a long drive.

The fact was, she was tired. She spent too much time worrying about bills and money and schedules and employees, and not enough time on the pain in her joints, the smiles on her grandchildren's faces, and the comfort of her couch at home.

Her goals had become about taxes and profits, not about taking trips or starting hobbies.

Something needed to change, but she just wasn't sure what to do. How did one go about changing a life?

Her four children would say that she'd brought this on herself. Harrison had left her enough money to take care of her needs for the rest of her life. It had been her stubbornness and a desire to honor her husband's memory that had kept the restaurant going.

Only now did she realize that while she'd been honoring Harrison's memory, years and years had passed. Her children had married and had children of their own. Far too many times she'd put off visits to them because of her many commitments at the restaurant.

A playful wave in front of her nose brought her back to reality. “Jana, you planning to give me my change anytime soon?”

With a start, Jana realized she'd been clutching her friend Pippa Reyes's ten-dollar bill like it was a lifeline. “I'm sorry, Pippa. It's been a long day.”

Pippa gazed at her in concern. “That's not good, my friend. It's barely three o'clock.”

Jana tried to laugh it off. “Yes. It really is not good.”

Pippa reached out and patted her hand. “Why don't you come over to my house tonight? I'll make you some tamales and we'll talk. I'll be more than happy to help you in any way I can.”

Pippa Reyes was a new transplant to Sugarcreek. Her brother worked at the brickyard and had often commented to her over the years about how much he enjoyed the wholesome, quiet and quaint atmosphere of the Midwestern town.

Pippa, still recovering from a painful divorce, had seized upon her brother's invitation to join him and his wife in Sugarcreek.

In short order, she'd found an apartment in the middle of town, gotten a part-time job at the Walmart in Millersburg, and had settled into life in rural Ohio.

She and Jana had started talking one afternoon over a slice of pie and had soon discovered that they had many things in common. Now they got together once or twice a week and caught up on the latest news. Jana considered Pippa to be her best friend.

Though Jana knew spending some time with her girlfriend would be wonderful, she simply didn't know how she was going to be able to fit in one more thing with her schedule. “I'd love to come over, but tonight's not good.”

“Make time. I'm worried about you,” Pippa said, her voice lilting the way it did whenever she grew concerned about something. “I think you need a friend right now.” After a second she added her trump card. “Besides, in addition to making tamales, I've got cheese enchiladas and pintos in the fridge. Manny came over with his boys yesterday, and I have leftovers.”

There were some things Jana just wasn't strong enough to resist. And tamales and cheese enchiladas were one. They sounded wonderful; so completely different from the kind of food they served at the inn. She smiled at her friend. “Is eight o'clock too late? I've got a meeting with the accountant at five o'clock and I don't know how long it will take.”

The dimple in Pippa's cheek appeared. “It's not too late at all. I'll have a plate waiting for you.”

“Bless you, Pippa.”

Her girlfriend playfully shook her finger at her. “Just don't forget. You need some time to rest and relax. I'm sure of it,
chica
.”

Looking around the restaurant, Jana smiled wanly. For the record, she was sure about that, too. She needed to make a change very soon. Very, very soon.

chapter three

It was taking every ounce of strength Judith Knox had not to reach out and clasp her husband's hands. But of course she couldn't do it. Showing such emotion wasn't something that was done, and she wanted to be sure she was acting completely properly.

Not that the social worker would know all that much about proper etiquette for Amish wives. No, Miss Bernadette Fogle didn't seem to be the type of woman to put much stock in things like that. In the three times they'd met, Miss Fogle—Bernie to pretty much everyone she knew—had been much more concerned about their love for a baby than if they were everything proper.

And thank goodness for Bernie's easygoing demeanor, too! Over the last few months, Judith had had some challenging moments. After suffering a miscarriage and hearing the news that she couldn't ever give birth to a baby of her own, it had taken her weeks to lift herself up from a deep depression.

Only through the grace of God, the patience of her family, and Ben's love had she begun to accept the possibility of adoption.

It had been a difficult process. But now that they were in the middle of it, Judith felt only anticipation and excitement for what was to come.

As if she'd noticed Judith's jiggling knee, Bernie smiled softly. “Judith, there is nothing to be nervous about. Remember, your paperwork and interviews went very well. You two have been deemed to be exceptional candidates for adoption.”

As Judith exhaled in relief, her husband leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Bernie, do you have news for us today? I fear Judith and I are on pins and needles here.”

After a pause, Bernie smiled. “Actually, I do have news. I've come to ask if you would consider being foster parents for a time. You know, while you're waiting to adopt.”

Ben frowned. “I'm afraid I don't understand.”

Bernie crossed her legs, visibly searching for the right words. “Well, on occasion, we have a need for a family to take in a newborn. For a time.”

“For a time?” Judith echoed, finally finding her voice.

Bernie nodded. “It's, ah . . . a special situation.”

“We'd appreciate it if you spoke a bit more directly,” Ben said, his voice hinting at his growing impatience. “This is hard enough on my
frau
without you talking in circles.”

Judith's heart went out to him. Not caring anymore about how it would look, she scooted closer to him. If she couldn't hold his hand, she wanted to feel his support at the very least.

“Tell us about this baby, Bernie.”

“It's a little boy. His name is James.” Bernie's expression softened before she continued. “There's no easy way to say this. His mother is in the correctional facility in Marysville.”

It took a moment to understand what Bernie meant. “His mother is in prison?”

“I'm afraid so.” She leaned back against the couch. “About ten or twelve years ago, some Mennonite and Amish families in Pennsylvania were asked to help foster some prisoners' children. It was a successful partnership. The families cared for the babies and young children like they were their own, giving them lots of love and support—the things that are the hallmarks of your community. Recently, we've decided to try out this program in our county and state.”

Judith felt her throat tighten as disappointment sank in. “So you are not asking us to adopt this baby? Just keep him for a bit?”

“Yes. Until his mother can care for him, or his family has presented themselves as capable alternatives.”

Ben frowned. “But this is not what we asked for, Bernie.” His voice hardened. “We filled out the paperwork to adopt a baby. Not to watch over some . . . some prisoner's child.”

Bernie studied him before quietly putting the papers she had resting on her lap back in her leather tote bag. “You are exactly right. This wasn't what you asked for. But it's my job to find a home for this baby. Surely you can understand my point of view? My priority is to always put the children first,” she added as she stood up. “I couldn't resist coming out here and giving it a try.”

“I can't fault you,” Ben said quietly. “I also feel sorry for the babe. But I have to admit to not being too happy with you at the moment, Bernie. We thought you had news for us. Poor Judith here had her hopes up. Please don't—”

“I'm okay, Ben,” Judith said quickly. “Bernie is exactly right. A baby's needs are far more important than my wishes at the moment.” Turning to Bernie, she smiled. “And you're right. I can't fault you for trying.”

Bernie's eyes warmed. “Thank you for understanding, Judith. When I have some news about available babies, I'll be sure to let you know.”

It all sounded so final. “It's going to be a long wait, isn't it?”

“Yes. It's as I told you from the beginning—adopting a child isn't for sissies,” she said with a slight smile. “It's a long process. It could be weeks or months—but it will most likely be at least a year. But don't despair. I feel certain that sooner or later your day will come.”

As those words sank in, Bernie picked up her tote from the couch and slipped it onto her shoulder. She already had her keys in one hand, and her cell phone in the other. It was obvious that the social worker wasn't going to rest until she had a home for baby James.

Suddenly, Judith knew what she had to do. “Wait!” she called out.

Bernie paused. “Yes?”

“Um, I know James needs a home right away, but could you let us have until tomorrow morning to talk about this?”

A true look of sympathy entered Bernie's expression. “It's only to foster him, Judith. I can't promise that he'll ever be up for adoption. . . .”

“I know. But he needs a home,
jah?
” Giving in to temptation, Judith reached out and gripped Ben's hand. “We need a baby to care for. I mean, I need a baby. Can we call you tomorrow? Please?”

“Well—”

“In the morning?” Judith asked quickly. “Ben and I . . . We could call you at seven. That's not too early, right? I'll go right down to the phone shanty and give you a call.”

Ben whispered in her ear. “Are you sure about this, dear?”

Judith nodded. Suddenly, she knew she'd never been more sure about anything in her whole life.

Bernie bit her bottom lip as she looked from Ben to Judith. “Are you sure you even need a conversation? I'm not trying to hurt your feelings, but if you're not serious—”

Ben squeezed Judith's hand, answering a hundred questions without Judith needing to say a single word. “We are serious,” he said. “Please, give us until seven tomorrow morning.”

The line that had been between Bernie's brows slowly eased. “All right. Until seven. You have my cell phone number, right?”

“It's written down in about five different places,” Ben joked. “Believe me, we have it.”

“Until tomorrow morning then,” Bernie said as she turned the door handle and headed out the door.

Only when the social worker's car disappeared down the road did Ben speak again. “Judith, what are you thinking?”

“That I need this baby, Ben.”

A myriad of expressions appeared on his face. After staring at her hard, he pointed to the couch. “In that case, I think we'd better sit back down. It seems we have a lot to talk about and little time to do it.”