The Memory Jar (10 page)

“Really?” Sarah’s eyes widened.

“
Ja
. I can still remember a tune my
oma
always used to hum. One day I asked her and she shared the words, ‘May I sleep in yer barn, Mister? It is cold lying out on the ground, and the cold north wind is awhistling, and I have no place to lie down …’” Jathan sang.

A shiver traveled up Sarah’s spine, and she looked around. “I’d give anything to be sleeping in a barn tonight — even a stinky one.”

Jathan nodded and laughed. “Ain’t that the truth, Sarah. Ain’t that the truth.”

They talked about their grandparents and extended families. They talked about their schooling and laughed because they’d learned some of the same poems and rhymes.

“So what was it like when you first moved to Montana?” he asked. “Was it lonely? Did you miss yer old community and friends?”

“
ne
, jest the opposite. I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t
seen it with my own eyes. When we first moved,
Mem
wasn’t prepared for the stream of visitors. For a while, we saw our friends from back east jest as often as when we were still back home — or so it seemed. Everyone wanted to come and see our place in the wilderness. Some stayed for a day, others a week. I didn’t like visitors so much, because it meant I had to stay and play with the other children. It was less time I could play with Patty.”

“Patty?”

Sarah stiffened. She readjusted herself and reached for her stocking. She didn’t know why she’d mentioned her friend’s name. Things had been going so well. She didn’t want to talk about Patty. Couldn’t talk about her.
Mem
had tried talking to Sarah at various times, but each time, Sarah broke down in tears.

“Jest a friend. She doesn’t live around these parts anymore.”

“You sound sad about it, and if I were to guess … Is it the same Patty who passed away jest a few years ago?”

Tears sprang to Sarah’s eyes. She blinked quickly before they could break through. Her lips compressed with emotion and heat rushed into her chest.

“I’m so sorry, Sarah. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“
N-ne
, I know. I jest …” She blew a breath out through her circled lips. “H-how did you know?”

After a long silence, Jathan placed a hand on her shoulder. “People talk. The first time I heard of the drowning was when the van driver took us over the bridge.”

“I don’t like that.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t like that people are talking about it as if it’s jest a story. She was a person. A real, living …” The tears came then. More tears than Sarah had cried in a long time. They dripped down her face, falling and dropping to the forest floor. Jathan didn’t
tell her to stop. He didn’t say a word. He simply placed his hand over hers to let her know that, when she was ready, he could be trusted with her words.

Sarah wiped her face and sucked in a breath. “She w-was my best friend. We did everything together. It seems every good, childhood memory I have is attached to her. Sh-she …” Sarah swallowed, knowing she was acting like a fool, but did it matter? She was lost, injured, and cold. She’d already made a fool of herself by going off the trail. What difference did a few tears make?

“Patty laughed at my jokes and got me lost in the woods too. She was the first to encourage my baking, to really encourage me. She told me I made better cupcakes than anyone on the earth.”

Jathan smiled. “I have to agree.”

Sarah wilted, slumping her shoulders and realizing the heaviness of sharing her heart. How was it possible to feel so relaxed, yet so tense? To feel so open, yet so fearful of losing control of her emotions all at the same time?

“I want to tell you more, like the time we almost burned down the whole West Kootenai Kraft and Grocery. I want to, but I can’t. It jest hur …” She covered her face with her hands.

“It’s all right,
ja
? Yer tired. It’s been a long day. Why don’t you lie down for a while? You can use my shirt for a pillow. Close yer eyes for a time, Sarah. I promise I’ll keep watch.”

Sarah didn’t argue. She climbed off the log, lay down with her back to him, closed her eyes, and listened as he rose to add more wood to the fire.

People have learned to live with loss. What’s wrong with me?
She brought her knees closer to her chest. More tears came, and she was tired of them. Tired of crying. Even more tired of holding them in.

Let him in. Talk to him. You can trust him
, her inner voice told her. Sarah didn’t listen. Couldn’t listen. Jathan wouldn’t understand.

The ground was cold underneath Sarah. She was aware of dead leaves and twigs poking through her clothes and tickling her skin.

Time passed, five minutes or ten, she wasn’t sure which, when a voice broke through her sleepy mind.

“It wasn’t yer fault.”

Sarah stirred and turned slightly. She wasn’t sure if Jathan had actually spoken or if she’d fallen asleep and the words had come as the start of a dream.

She sat up so she faced him. He still sat on the log, trying to peel a burned piece of rubber off the bottom of his boot.

Sarah cleared her throat. He lifted his eyes and looked at her. Compassion filled his gaze. Seeing that, the woods seemed less scary. Her emotions less scary.

“Did you say something?” she asked.

“I said it wasn’t yer fault.”

Her brow furrowed. “But that doesn’t make sense … why would you believe I’d think it was?”

“My
bruder
Yonnie lost a friend in a buggy accident they were in. They were hit by a drunk driver. There was nothing Yonnie could have done, yet he felt guilty because he survived. It happens. It’s a common emotion. Besides …” He leaned closer so the firelight fully illuminated him from the shoulders up. “I saw the guilt all over yer face.”

“
Ja
, well, you don’t know anything then.” She closed her eyes. She didn’t want to see his disapproval when she said the next words. “You don’t understand then, because it’s true … it
is
my fault.”

“Sarah, how can you say that? Were you driving the speedboat? We both know you weren’t.”

“I might as well have been. I saw the boat on the lake. I thought about warning them, but I didn’t.” She bit her lip. “I was interested in Patty’s
bruder
. I’d liked him for a while, but we’d never really had time alone to talk.” The words spilled out, tumbling out of her mouth like rocks down a rock slide. “I didn’t warn them as they paddled away. I didn’t warn them, because I was looking forward to time to get to know Michael better.”

She squeezed her eyes tighter, unable to believe she’d just confessed that. In the two years since Patty’d been gone, she’d never told that to another soul. Even though she thought it every day, she never told.

He didn’t say anything.

Shame crawled over Sarah, like ants on an anthill, sweeping down from her head to her toes with accusations.

Now that he knows, he’s not going to be so friendly. He’ll get you out of these woods, but that will be that
.

“Sarah, do you think you are more powerful than God?” His words interrupted her thoughts.

“Excuse me?” The question caused her to look up into his face as it glowed in the firelight.

“Do you read the Bible often?” His voice was steady and quiet and somehow made the hairs on her arm stand on end.

“
Ja
, how dare you —”

“Have you read Psalm 139?”

She jutted out her chin. “I’ve read all the psalms, more than once.”

“Well, in the middle of that chapter, it says something that goes like this: ‘You, God, saw my body while it was being made,
and all the days you’d planned for me were written before any of them happened.’

“Sarah, God wasn’t surprised by the accident. He doesn’t point his finger at you fer not warning Patty. Besides, even if you had, who knows if she would have even listened?”

Sarah watched his lips as he spoke. Was that the truth?

She thought about it for a moment. An image of her friend’s plain features and determined stance filled her mind. More than anyone, Patty was hard to sway when she’d set her mind on things. She was the most willful and stubborn Amish woman Sarah had ever met. She’d never really considered before that Patty may not have listened … she’d only focused on the fact that she hadn’t warned them as she thought she ought to have done.

“The way I see things, Sarah, God knew the day Patty was going to die even before she was born. I know you know this … but maybe you should
believe it
. Believe deep in yer heart where all that pain lies.”

Sarah nodded. Could she believe that? Really believe it? By accepting that God knew the day of Patty’s death, she also had to accept that he’d allowed it. To Sarah, taking someone from the earth during the prime of her life — when she was filled to the top with so many dreams and hopes — didn’t seem like a loving thing to do.

She wished she were more like
Mem
.
Mem
accepted everything that happened as God’s perfect will. She trusted God even when she didn’t understand.

Maybe that was Sarah’s problem. She was trying too hard to understand. Maybe she needed to listen to what her mother had been trying to tell her. Maybe she needed to pay attention to what Jathan was saying now. God knew every one of Patty’s days … and he’d chosen when to call her home.

Sarah curled back up on the ground, her hands under her cheek. It made sense, what he said. Jathan was right. It was something she had known, in her mind at least.

She considered something else. God had given her Patty. He’d forged their friendship. He’d been part of their relationship as they’d spent years seeking God together.

And for what purpose? So Sarah would keep all other relationships at bay? So she would hold her pain close to her, like a porcupine cradled to her chest?

God, why did you bring Patty into my life?
The question filtered through Sarah’s mind.
More than that … what can I do to show you that giving me the gift of her friendship wasn’t a waste?

S
arah didn’t know she’d drifted off until she heard someone stirring behind her. She thought it was her brother Andy coming to wake her to tell her
Mem
needed her help. Then, all at once, her senses pulled her from her sleep.

She smelled the dampness of the earth and the scent of decay from the forest floor. She smelled the smoke from the campfire and even the sweat from Jathan’s shirt.

Jathan
.

Sarah sat up with a start. She opened her eyes and then rubbed them, trying to clear her vision. “Is everything okay?”

She glanced around. Was it morning? The sky was still dark. She thought she saw a twinge of gray sky in the east, but she wasn’t sure.

Jathan’s eyes were wide. “I heard something.” His breathing was quick, shaky.

Sarah sat up straighter. “Like a bear?”

He shook his head. “No, not like a bear. It was crying. If you listen …”

“Like a baby crying?” As she said the words, her earlier memory filtered through her mind. She was back on the front-porch
swing; the night had been dark and cold like this one. Only then, it’d been different. Back then, Sarah had been able to see the stars. Now, here, the cloud cover made that impossible.

“Ja.”
Jathan nodded. “It did sound sort of like a baby.”

“Coyotes,” she whispered. “It’s a good sign.”

“How do you know?”

Sarah yawned and then smiled. Her eyes felt sticky, but her mind was alert.

“My friend … Patty told me so. I was twelve. I remember very clearly.”

Sarah continued with her story, telling Jathan about waking alone in Patty’s bed and then searching for her. Telling him how she’d found Patty outside, and their conversation on the porch. Just as she prepared to tell him about how her sleeping kerchief had looked like coyote ears, a sound filtered through the trees. It was a coyote all right, and it wasn’t a coincidence.

When she finished, Jathan launched into a story about an injured red-tailed hawk he’d once found. Sarah tried to listen, but her mind wandered.

For so long, she’d taken her memories of Patty — the memories they’d created together — and held them outside of herself, protecting herself from the pain of carrying them deep within. It was as if she carried all the memories in her jars. But in doing so, it was as if she’d also kept everyone else — those still in her life — at arm’s length too.

But now … now she’d shared about the porch swing, and instead of pain, it brought joy to invite someone else into that memory. Sarah felt full, as if by opening her heart, a bit of happiness was stuffed inside.

Sarah didn’t know when the jar had transformed from a celebration of their experiences into a way to keep thoughts
of Patty from pricking all the tender places deep within, but it had.

Afraid of the pain missing Patty would cause, Sarah hadn’t let memories of Patty fill her mind or journey through her heart. But what if she did? What if Sarah took the lessons she’d learned from her friend and applied them to her life? What if she took the joy, the wisdom, and the laughter and made the memories count? Could Patty’s memories grow within and better Sarah’s life now?

Sarah felt a rush of energy wash over her. Her chest tingled, and she found it hard to breathe. Did it take getting lost to discover what God had wanted her to find — the truth that Patty’s life would serve its purpose through her if she’d let it? That God’s Spirit would serve its purpose too?

Tingles danced up Sarah’s arms, and she released a long, slow breath. Jathan was still talking, and she attempted to focus on his words, but the joy filling her made it hard to concentrate. It was a joy Sarah hadn’t known since that day at the lake. It felt good.

“And then we decided we wanted to fly with the hawk, so we jumped off the barn roof, too, and sailed around the pasture,” Jathan was saying.

“Excuse me?”

He chuckled. “I didn’t think you were listening.”

“Well …” How could she explain?

“It doesn’t matter.” He grinned and shrugged. “You should get some more rest. We still have a few hours before it’s light enough to hike out.”