The Memory Jar (31 page)

“Excuse me? What did you say?” the woman asked.

Sarah stepped forward. “She means there’s cupcakes to come. I have some batter that I have chilling. If you can give me an hour and a half.”

“Perfect.” The woman tucked her wallet back into her purse and nodded. “I have more shopping to do. Save me two dozen.”

“Two dozen?” Sarah attempted to hide her smile. Even though it was hard work, it felt good that her cupcakes were so appreciated.

She finished rearranging the cookies in the display case, then turned to Aunt Kay. “Would you like me to work on the oatmeal cookies first? They were on the list
Mem
Schrock gave me.”

“
Ja
, well, I don’t think the list matters now.” She narrowed her gaze at Sarah. “You best get started on those cupcakes.” Aunt Kay spoke the last word as if she were spitting an eggshell from between her lips. Then she turned to the back and hurried to the kitchen. “I don’t know why they need cupcakes — two dozen especially — when there are other things jest as
appeditlich
right here in the case.” Sarah noticed
Mem
Schrock had come in. Before the older woman even had time to put on her apron, Aunt Kay launched into a rant about the fancy cupcakes.

“Should we even call this an Amish bakery with fancy cupcakes like that?” Sarah heard Aunt Kay say. Sarah’s knees softened as she saw the disappointment in
Mem
Schrock’s gaze.

“Maybe not,” she answered. “Maybe we’ve made a bad decision here.”

Sarah tried to ignore the women’s words and rushed forward to help another customer — an Amish woman — at the cash register.

The woman shook her head. “Kay needs to stop
brutzing
.” She patted her
kapp
and clucked her tongue. “The point of the bakery is to sell what customers want, not what the bakers like to bake. Don’t they understand that?”

“That’s the problem, I think.” Sarah sighed. “Folks used to want what they baked … until I started making my cupcakes.”

Jathan stepped in the front door and watched Sarah set out another batch of cupcakes. His limbs felt weary as he walked through the front door but a small smile lifted his lips when he noticed the line of customers.

Sarah finished setting the cupcakes in the display case and
hurried to the kitchen. She didn’t look happy. Jathan followed her in, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

“Having a
gut
day?”

“Well, pretty
gut
.”

He bent down and gazed into her face. “And what’s bothering you?”

Tears rimmed her eyes. She shrugged. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you about this kitchen. There isn’t enough room. It wasn’t made for three women, really, and now with Catherine helping to bake, we’re always bumping into each other.” She knelt down and looked under the counter. “Look at all this open space. If you built some racks, I could place my decorated cupcakes under here — especially the ones for special orders. Or maybe even set bread to rise. It would free up the counters.”

He knelt next to her, placing an elbow on his knee, and grinned. “The bakery’s really taking off, isn’t it?”

“Well, it’s been busy.” She paused. “Not to say I do anything special, but I’ve seen that some customers do enjoy my cupcakes.” She fixed her eyes on his. “Sometimes it’s the little things that make all the difference, don’t you think? We don’t need to worry about expanding the kitchen, jest have to make better use of space.”

He focused on her gaze and nodded. “Yer cupcakes are the talk of the town. Not only pretty but
gut
.” Jathan patted his stomach. “I think I’ve gained some weight since you’ve been making them.”

“The recipes are simple. Catherine’s been making them jest fine. If we wanted to expand, to help out yer family, I have a new idea too.”

“
Ja?
What’s that?”

She looked to the cabinet that held her memory jar, then
looked back at him. “Well, I can’t keep up with all the decorating, but what if we put out items fer folks to decorate the cupcakes themselves? We can give them a little cup, and they can fill it with sprinkles and edible glitter. I think they’d really enjoy it.”

He nodded and smiled. “I like that.” Relief — joy — flooded Sarah’s face, and her cheeks grew pink.

“
Ja
, that’s something we can talk about. I can mention it to
Mem
.”

As he began to rise, Sarah grabbed his arm. “But Jathan, will you tell yer
Mem
that it was yer idea? I’ve noticed lately …” Her eyes pleaded with him as she let her voice trail off.

“What?”

Sarah shrugged and then she fingered the fabric of his shirt. His skin tingled under her touch. “I’ve jest noticed that anytime I bring up an idea, yer
Mem
and Aunt Kay exchange a glance. I believe they’ve grown weary of my ideas.”

He didn’t say anything. He’d seen changes too.
Mem
seemed more distant than usual, and she’d been cooler to Sarah than when she’d first arrived. There was another tell-tale sign too.
Mem
hadn’t asked in the last week when Jathan was going to talk to Sarah about a wedding. That wasn’t like his mother. Tension built in his chest, but he didn’t want it to show.

“
Ja
, of course,” he said as he rose. “I don’t mind claiming a
gut
idea like that.”

Sarah walked home the long way from work, passing by her favorite flower garden on the edge of town. Black-eyed Susans, mums, zinnias, irises, and dozens of other flowers Sarah didn’t know the name for graced the garden with golds and oranges, purples and blues. She was just about to continue on when a
white
kapp
bobbing in the far corner of the garden caught her eye. She imagined the sweet old woman who lived here, kneeling in the garden, tugging at the weeds.

Sarah had the rest of the day off. Should she offer to help? It was one way to make friends. Heaven knew she needed a friend right now.

“You have a lovely garden!” Sarah’s voice carried on the slight breeze. “I’ve not seen one like it. Do you need help? I imagine the weeds are quite overwhelming in a garden this size.”

“Oh, hello!” The figure rose and stepped forward with speed and agility Sarah hadn’t expected. A wide smile flashed in the sunlight and Sarah gasped. It wasn’t an older woman at all. She was young and beautiful with reddish-brown hair tucked under her
kapp
. As she neared, Sarah recognized her immediately. Wasn’t this the woman Aunt Kay had talked about earlier? Bev Troyer?

“I recognize you.” The woman pointed. “Yer the new baker at Our Daily Bread.”

“Ja.”
Sarah nodded. She paused, forcing a smile. Should she withdraw her offer to help? It was clear the other Amish women disapproved of Bev. Should Sarah risk her own reputation by spending time with her?

Sarah released a breath, remembering her reputation was already ruined. After all, she was the one who made those
fancy
cupcakes.

“
Ja
, I am the new baker,” Sarah continued. “I enjoy baking very much.”

The woman sighed. “
Ach
, I wish I could bake. I make a mess of everything. My
Mem
gave up trying to teach me after I set the kitchen on fire … twice. That’s when I took up gardening. I can’t set anything on fire or poison anyone from out here.”

Sarah smiled. “Are you saying yer an Amish woman who can’t cook?”

The smile on the woman’s face faded. Her expression darkened and tears sprang to her eyes. Bev didn’t answer but instead lowered her gaze and pretended to focus on the green rose leaf she pressed between her fingers.

“
Ja
, well, I do cook some.” Her words weren’t convincing.

“
Ach
, I’m so sorry.” Sarah placed a hand on Bev’s arm. “I didn’t mean you disrespect. I understand what it means to not fit in. I’m from the west — from an Amish community in Montana. Amish people live differently out there. My parents had a small garden where we lived in the mountains, but my biggest problem is that although I bake, it’s far too fancy.”

“Fancy?”

Sarah nodded. “
Ja
. I like making cupcakes and decorating them to match yer garden.”

The woman’s eyes widened, and she giggled behind her hand. “Yes, I bought and ate two myself, jest today. They were beautiful … and delicious.”

Sarah leaned closer. “You can imagine the type of response I get to my
fancy
cupcakes.”

“I imagine they’re similar to the comments I receive about my
fancy
garden.” Bev glanced over her shoulder. “No matter how often I say that God’s the creator and I’m simply highlighting his handiwork, many people talk. I know what they say.” Her voice quivered. “But you are right — some Amish woman I am.”

And some follower of Jesus I am fer having considered walking away. Fer being worried about my own reputation
.

Sarah smiled at the woman. “My offer is still open. I’d love to help with yer weeding — or whatever you may need help with. I have the afternoon off.”

“Oh, the weeding is done, but I’d love fer you to come in for tea. I have nothing to serve with it but —”

Sarah patted Bev’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about that. I take too many nibbles of this and that at the bakery. Treats are the last thing I need.”

S
arah had woken up to the memory of Bev Troyer’s garden and an uneasy feeling stirred inside her. She’d found no greater joy lately than working on the cupcakes, but deep inside, she knew it wouldn’t matter if she found great joy making the cupcakes. Or even found joy in seeing the smiles on the faces of the
Englisch
customers. She longed to be understood, to be appreciated. And when she went into the bakery later that morning, she longed for both of those things more than anything.

Dawn hadn’t broken yet when she arrived at the bakery.
Mem
Schrock and Aunt Kay were already busy at work. They offered pleasant smiles as she entered. Sarah immediately went to the cupcakes she’d baked yesterday and frosted them. Then she set to work with the fondant, cutting small shapes, spending more time on them than she should.

Finally, when she was finished, Sarah held up a cupcake that looked as if it were a section of Bev’s garden. A smile curled on her lips. The flowers looked so real. She gazed on them with pleasure. Is this how God felt after creation? She turned the cupcake in her hand. Her thumb left a smudge.
Sarah didn’t fix it. Instead she held it up for the women to see and allowed a sad smile to fill her face.

“What are you thinking about?”
Mem
Schrock asked.

“Oh, I had a friend once who used to touch the birthmark I have right behind my ear. My friend Patty told me that when God finished forming me, he left his fingerprint. She’d stick her thumb on that spot, grin, and say, ‘Well done.’”

“That’s nice, dear,” Aunt Kay said.

Sarah took a step closer to the women, still holding the cupcake in her hand. “I haven’t thought about that in a while.”

“Why not?”

Sarah’s smile vanished. She stared at the women, unblinking, through many ticks of the clock. “Well, because I used to think of that when I was sad, but these cupcakes … making them makes me happy.”

Both of the women’s mouths dropped open, as if they struggled for words to respond.

Sarah put down the cupcake and took an embroidered handkerchief from her pocket. She turned it over in her hands. “My
oma
made this for me. It’s fancy, don’t you think? But it’s beautiful too.” She held it out to Aunt Kay. “Do you have any like this?”

Aunt Kay narrowed her gaze, as if understanding where Sarah was taking the conversation. She glanced down at the cupcake and then back at Sarah. “Food is for nourishing the body, not fer trying to make yer things appear better than everyone else’s.”

“Is that what you think? I don’t make these things fer myself, but fer others. To give joy fer a moment. To make special memories. You don’t know —” Her words caught in her throat. “You don’t know when someone will be gone. The moments, they matter. Why wouldn’t I want to do something to
make them feel as special as possible?” Sarah took a step back and forced herself to be calm.

Mem
Schrock blinked rapidly and then blew out a deep breath, focusing her eyes on Sarah. “I understand what yer saying. Unlike my sister, I do not think it’s the cupcakes that are the problem. They are
gut
. The
Englisch
like them. The problem I have is wondering if they belong
here
.”

Jathan’s mother softened her voice as if her whispered words would make her comments less painful. “Jest ‘cause things are different, doesn’t make them better.
Ja
, new customers have come in, but what about our regulars? I haven’t gotten an order from my friend Marge in two weeks. I spied her this morning sneaking into The Baker’s Pantry down the street. Things are simpler there. Most of my Amish friends like the old ways.”