The Memory Jar (21 page)

I
n both directions, the tracks stretched as far as his eyes could see, and goose bumps rose on Jathan’s arms. How many people did the trains carry on these pieces of steel? Millions, he supposed. Yet although the train would be carrying hundreds tonight, he cared about only one. He knew what he hoped for, but he also knew life rarely turned out how one hoped. His brothers believed he was making a big mistake, and Jathan’s thoughts flipped between confidence he’d prove them wrong and worry they’d seen the facts all along.

Sarah was coming and Jathan didn’t know if he was setting up his own ideas of what could come of it — come of them. While he wanted them to spend more time together and wished their relationship would grow, he also hoped he could prove his brothers’ expectations wrong. His father’s expectations wrong.

Jathan had never known a time when he didn’t understand expectations. As a small child, he knew he must be quiet and behave during their church services. From the time he could grasp the handle of a pitchfork, he knew he was expected to muck stalls. As soon as he could sit on a stool, he watched his
father in the workshop and knew he would soon begin to help. He supplied
Dat
with nails and helped choose the best pieces of lumber at the lumberyard. He knew what he had to do and was good at it, but just because he could find a fine piece of maple didn’t mean it brought joy to his heart.

Of all the siblings, Jathan was the only one who never went wild during
Rumspringa
. What good would it have done?

He knew what people expected from him as an Amish man too. As the youngest son, his role was to care for his parents. To see they lived their last years on earth well. His father had reminded Jathan of that often. And when Jathan’s woodworking proved to be too slow,
Dat
had come up with the idea of working at the factory. It was a good job and Jathan knew many Amish men worked there and were thankful for the job. The fact was, it just wasn’t right for Jathan. He knew it as clearly as he knew his own name.

The breeze picked up and he flipped up his collar, protecting himself from the nip of the wind. Was he making a mistake asking Sarah to come? She came to experience a new culture. Her letter had said she looked forward to baking and trying out new recipes. His heart ached at the thought of that — of her playful side and her joy in the kitchen. Those were two things he enjoyed about her most, but he also guessed they were the very things that would cause his mother and aunt to raise their eyebrows. He’d worried about that before he’d called. He’d worried that asking her to come would be like taking a racing stallion and penning it up in a barn for the rest of its life.

Yet it was longing to see her smile that convinced him to drive his buggy to the grocery store at the end of the lane and use the telephone. That and the small hope that things would be different. A hope that the rest of the family would fall under Sarah’s trance as he had.

The train approached, and Jathan straightened. He searched the windows for any sign of Sarah, but he could only see the moonlight reflecting off the glass.

“Sarah.” His lips whispered her name onto the breeze. His finding her in those dark woods had led to this moment now. He just hoped that tomorrow, when light dawned, she’d be as excited about this new adventure as he was. If only the morning light would also push his concerns — his fears — into the shadows.

Sarah rubbed her eyes as she looked out the train window, waiting to see the train station in the distance. The train slowed, but there was no station. Rather than a beautiful train station with flower baskets decorating the platform like the one in Whitefish, Montana, this small Ohio town had no fine building — no building at all — only a small shelter to keep waiting travelers out of the rain.

By car, the train station was an hour from Berlin, and Jathan said he’d have a driver there waiting for her. It was the silhouette of an Amish man, however, that caught her attention. Sarah’s heart leaped in her chest. It wasn’t only the driver who was waiting for her. Even though his wide-brimmed hat shadowed his face, Sarah recognized Jathan’s wide shoulders and stance. She placed a hand to her neck, telling herself to breathe. He’d come. He hadn’t just sent a driver; he’d come for her.

She tucked a stray hair under her
kapp
and grabbed the small basket
Mem
had used to pack food for the long journey. She was still limping, but not nearly as badly. When the train stopped, she walked cautiously down the aisle and down the
steps of the train. A moment later, she stood on the platform where the cool Ohio breeze caused her
kapp
strings to dance. Her heart did a dance of its own.

She looked at Jathan and waited for him to see her. Jathan’s eyes scanned the train’s doorways until finally he saw her. He waved and strode over to her with quick steps. During the passing miles, Sarah had worried whether there would be any awkwardness between them. She didn’t have to worry for long. Jathan rushed forward and paused before her, smiling. Sarah’s knees softened to see his smile once again.

“You made it.”

“
Ja
, jest a little late.”

He smiled, studying her face. “Not bad. Jest an hour or so.” He blew out a breath as if not believing she was really here. “Yer worth the wait.”

She grinned. How had everything changed so quickly? Just last month, she’d hardly spoken to him. Now there was no place she’d rather be than here, and no one she’d prefer to be with than him.

“Do you have a suitcase?”

“Not a suitcase, but two boxes taped up real
gut
. I hope that won’t be a problem.
Mem
helped me pack. Since I’m staying a while, she wanted to make sure I had what I needed.”

“Staying a while.” Jathan motioned to a van parked near the road. “I like that.”

The driver helped them load her things, and soon they were off.

Jathan sat beside her on the bench seat behind the driver. She tilted her head slightly, studying him in the dim light. He looked the same as when he’d left, but there was a heaviness about him she hadn’t noticed before. He look tired, worried.

“How’s yer
Dat
?” She studied Jathan’s profile as the driver pulled out.

He shrugged. “The same. A home health nurse came by earlier today. She says he’s being cared fer well, but there’s no real improvement. I overheard her talking to
Mem
. She said some people never change and jest get weaker and weaker …” He let his voice trail off. “But others, well … The nurse said some of her patients sit up and start talking eventually.
Mem
hopes that’ll be the case.”

Sarah bit her bottom lip and nodded.

Jathan settled back against the seat. He folded his arms over his chest and stretched out his legs between the driver and passenger seats and crossed his ankles.

“You know, I was thinking about it. I learned a lot about yer
Mem
, yer
brieder
, Berlin, and the community during our talk in the forest, but you didn’t talk much about your
Dat
.”

“I didn’t? Maybe you drifted off during that part,” he mumbled.

She wrinkled her nose. “Did I? That’s possible. Or maybe it was because you didn’t talk about him much fer some reason …”

He looked at her as if he were assessing her. Was he wondering what he should tell? She glanced at the driver. Was having him here limiting Jathan’s words?

In Montana, they had only a few drivers, and Sarah considered them friends, but this driver — he hadn’t said more than hello to her after she’d gotten into the van and he hadn’t said much to Jathan either. Maybe Jathan was trying to figure out what he could say in front of the driver without having it spread around the community.

He cleared his throat. “
Dat
was a hardworking man, respected in the community. We have a small farm and a
woodworking workshop behind our house. My oldest
bruder
, Yonnie, works with
Dat
. Many stores in the area sell his furniture. They take special orders … or at least
used
to take special orders.”

“That sounds wonderful. Do you do woodwork —”

“Some.” The word was out before she even finished asking her question. “But I was never any good at that. Let’s not bring it up.” He looked at her and offered a smile. “Don’t you want to look around and see Ohio, Sarah?” He pointed out the window. “It’s very different from Montana, but jest as beautiful.”

“Ja.”
She nodded and turned her attention out the window. They drove through countryside and even though there were no buggies out at this hour, she could imagine the clip-clop of slow horses and the rasp of buggy wheels on the gravel lane.

She was thankful for the round, full moon, which cast a warm glow over the countryside, giving her a view of the place she’d be calling home — at least for a time. Maybe … maybe for a lifetime.

“Are the farms here in Ohio quite large?”

“Not as large as they used to be. Many family farms have given way to new houses on small tracts of land. It’s not busy like you’d suspect though. It’s still tranquil there. Not as quiet as the West Kootenai, of course, but many people come back every year to visit Holmes County. It’s because of the visitors that I think our bakery will do well.”

“
Ja
, I remember.” She wrinkled her nose. “I didn’t come all this way jest to bake, Jathan. I’ve come to help you fulfill yer dream.”

He reached over and took her hand, and she scooted closer to him so their shoulders touched. Neither said a word for a while, but they didn’t need to. She’d entered his world, and they were both content to just be together and soak it in.

After fifteen minutes, Jathan leaned forward and peered out the window. “This is the edge of our community here.”

Sarah nodded but didn’t see a difference. She saw the same types of farms, similar layouts of the property with houses and barns and shops surrounded by fields and pastures. Yet while she didn’t see the difference, she felt it. It was as if an electric charge now radiated from Jathan, causing Sarah’s heart to beat extra fast.

Outside the van window, windmills stretched their arms into the night air, some still slowly turning, and Sarah knew from what
Dat
had told her that they powered water pumps. What did Jathan’s house look like? Was it as large as the ones on these farms?

In Montana, their log homes were small, their barns were small, and their farms were small. Here, they were driving past houses that seemed big enough to fit the West Kootenai Kraft and Grocery, the West Kootenai school, and Sarah’s house inside all at once.

“What are all those little white boxes next to the houses?” she asked Jathan.

“They’re birdhouses for purple martins. In the daytime, they look like small apartment buildings on poles.” Jathan chuckled. “Of course, I didn’t see many apartment buildings in the West Kootenai.”

“
Ne, ne
, but I know what yer talking about. I have seen some apartments in Kalispell. And on the train …” Her eyes widened. “I saw things from the train I’d only read about in books. In Chicago, I saw a skyscraper. It was cloudy out and the top of it really reached into the clouds — jest like my little sister’s favorite book,
Jack and the Beanstalk
.”

“Do you miss them, Evelyn and Andy?”

“
Ja
. How could I not? But with all the hours I used to work
at the store, well … I haven’t spent as much time with them as I wish I could have. Even though I jest got here, I can see that things are different here than in Montana. In Montana, we all had to pull together, work together to make enough money to survive the long winters.”

“
Ach
, there are wealthy Amish here, to be sure, but the people care fer each other too. They’re generous. Living here, you’ll discover that relief auctions are common. Last year, we raised over a million dollars to help needy causes, including sending money to Haiti. My
Mem
and sisters made three quilts each through the year and donated them.”