The Memory Jar (19 page)

T
hese days, two weeks after Jathan left, morning always seemed to come too early. Sarah rolled over in bed and listened as
Dat
and Andy shoed up and headed out to the barn. Even though their spread in Montana was much smaller than the one in Kentucky had been, there were still cows to milk, horses and pigs to feed, and eggs to gather.

Once, when she was working at the store, someone had asked Sarah if they sold alarm clocks. The customer had been surprised to hear Sarah didn’t own one and hadn’t seen one either.
Mem
’s rattling of the cookstove as she lit it and started breakfast was the only clock that ever woke Sarah. And that “alarm” was happening right now as she stretched. Sarah needed to get down there to help. She wasn’t usually this slow about things, but maybe today was different because her mind carried so many thoughts.

Had Jathan received her letter? Had she been foolish to send it?

No. She guessed he would be happy to have heard from her so soon. Even though that last evening he’d acted as if nothing
special had happened between them, a hundred other looks and smiles before that moment told her something had.

It wasn’t as if she’d been trying to force anything through her letter either. What had been heaviest on her heart was just to let Jathan know that she cared and that she hoped things were going to change for the better. It wasn’t anything she could put her finger on, just something that came to mind as she prayed for Jathan. It was as if God was speaking to her heart. “I have something in store for him, Sarah. Just you wait.”

Sarah lay there just a moment longer, offering up prayers for Jathan’s father. She pictured Jathan’s face as he stood by his father’s bedside. She pictured weariness from the journey mixed with a pained acceptance of what he’d have to do to provide for his family. She pictured him lost — not stuck in the cold, dark woods but lost in his own search for fulfillment. To the outside world, the Amish were plain, simple people. But wasn’t it the quest of every man and woman — Amish and
Englisch
alike — to find one’s purpose? To discover a way one’s work could brighten one’s heart so it didn’t feel like work at all?

“Sarah, yer not ill, are you?”
Mem
’s voice traveled across the living room and slipped under her closed door.

“No,
Mem
. Sorry. I’ll be out in a minute yet. Annie told me to come in late today. She said I was looking weary and in need of rest.”

She rose, scolding herself for not getting up. Not only must she help
Mem
with morning chores, but she had to go to work.

Maybe that’s what truly caused her to linger. Once she got to the restaurant, she’d see that empty booth and remember again so clearly that Jathan was gone.

Forty-five minutes later, when she was on her way to work, Sarah’s brother Andy and her sister Evelyn were finishing chores. Andy strode toward the house with quickened steps, and Evelyn skipped at his side. Only today, their walk was joined by a third.

Last night,
Dat
had shown up with a new puppy — a sheepdog. They’d named him Moe. This morning, Moe ran circles around Sarah’s siblings, barking as if herding them was his chore.

The air around them was fresh with the scent of spring. Their pasture had turned a brilliant shade of green seemingly overnight. Sarah took the pressure off her sore ankle and reached down to pluck a small white flower from the ground before twirling it in her fingers. The place was just as pretty as it had always been, but it seemed emptier now. Who knew how a bachelor who’d been here for such a short time could make it feel so?

Just before she got to the house, Evelyn plopped to the ground, much to Moe’s liking. He placed two of his paws on Evelyn’s shoulders and licked her cheeks until they shone. Sarah laughed and then turned the corner of the road, not realizing how long the last stretch was to the store.

A month ago, the search-and-rescue paramedics had confirmed she’d sprained her ankle and had told her to keep off it as much as possible. She’d been a poor patient. She walked everywhere in these parts. Walking a mile to the store or to her friend Jenny’s house or two miles to the lake — that always seemed like less work than hooking up the buggy.

Even after all this time, her walk was more like a limp.

If only Jathan were here to carry me again
, she thought as she cut across the schoolyard in front of the one-room Amish
school. A soft smile formed on her lips as she remembered how safe, protected, and cared for she’d felt in his arms.

She was just exiting the schoolyard when Sarah saw someone running her direction.

“It’s Edgar,” she whispered. He was calling her name. Sarah picked up her pace, limping with each step.

“Sarah, come quick. You have a phone call,” Edgar said as she neared.

Fear hammered against her heart until she heard something else. Edgar’s laughter. She’d only seen him laugh maybe a dozen times during the two years she’d worked at the store. What could be so funny now?

“I headed in early this morning and walked in to find the phone ringing.” Edgar panted as he approached. “It was a storekeeper in Ohio calling for his friend. Seems Jathan wants to talk to you. I told him you’d be in soon. He said he’d wait.” Edgar shook his head, chuckled again, and pointed to the store. “Can you believe that? He’s sitting there, paying for that longdistance phone call, waiting until you come in instead of calling back. I tried to give him the number to yer phone, but he said he’d wait. Hurry now, won’t you?”

“
Ja
, of course.”

Edgar turned. “And that’s why these Amish folks need to just get phones and use them,” Edgar mumbled as he hurried away. “They need to know they can use a phone just to talk, and that it doesn’t mean it’s an emergency every time it rings. They need to know they can hang up and call someone back.”

Sarah picked up her pace again. When she got to the store a few minutes later, she worked hard to keep her voice steady as she picked up the phone.

“
Ja
, hello?”

“Sarah, is that you?”

Sarah nodded and smiled before she remembered he couldn’t see her. “
Ja
, this is Sarah.”

“I got yer letter a couple weeks back.” It was a simple statement.

Laughter filled the space between her mouth and the receiver. “You called me on the telephone to tell me that?”

“
Ja
, and to tell you something else too.”

Sarah twirled the cord around her finger as she waited. “Well?”

“It’s happened already.”

She furrowed her brow. “What’s happened?”

“What you said in the letter. The unexpected. I talked to my
Mem
. She agreed. She said I could help run the bakery. I’ve been working on a business plan and talking to suppliers.”

“But you said that wasn’t possible,” she interrupted.

“I was wrong. My
Mem
also agrees we need more help. Sarah, will you come?”

“Come?”

“To Ohio? To Berlin? Do ya think yer aunt would let you stay with her?”

Even over the miles, the emotions in Jathan’s voice were clear. She knew what he was asking, and the truth was, it had nothing to do with Ohio or Berlin. He was asking, “Will you come to me?” He’d only been gone two weeks, but he was saying, “I don’t want to be apart.”

Sarah smiled. “Well, that depends. What are yer plans for the bakery? My boss here, Annie, needs me. Also, I jest need to know what yer thinking about. It’s a big step, and I need to make sure yer ideas are in line with what I’ve been carrying on my heart.”

“Sarah, I want yer help to make the bakery as
gut
as we can. We can add some of yer items to the menu. There’s a chance we can put our baked goods into restaurants and cafes too.”

She turned her back to the door and cupped her hand over the phone receiver so no one else could hear. “Jathan, I wasn’t talking about the bakery. I was talking about our, uh, friendship. I wanted to know what yer thinking.”

“What I’m thinking?” She heard Jathan’s heavy sigh. “I wouldn’t have asked you to come to Ohio if I didn’t want to see you more, to know you better. Sarah, fer the first time in a long time, I have hope, not just fer the bakery, but fer so much more than that.”

Sarah wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. She’d heard of people crying tears of happiness before, but she’d never done it herself. Not until now. She picked up a penny from the coin cup on the counter and tucked it into her pocket for her memory jar. And then a new thought crossed her mind.

“I imagine we’ll be making a whole new set of memories, won’t we? And from all you’ve said, it seems like Ohio will be a nice place. A real nice place.”

Sarah set the apple pie on the table, and
Dat
’s eyes widened in surprise. “Did you make that fer us?” He ran a hand down his beard and then leaned forward and took a deep sniff. “Nobody makes pies like my dear daughter — or at least that’s what all the neighbors say. I wouldn’t know. The baker’s
Dat
is usually the last one to get pie.”

She chuckled and grabbed his hand. Her heart was so full she was certain nothing could take away her smile. Not even the aching of her ankle. It throbbed, hard and deep, but it didn’t
matter. All that mattered was the phone call she’d received today. All that mattered were the smiling faces of her family. How had she not paid more attention over the last months and years to the gift they were to her? Emotion filled her throat over the heaviness of Patty’s death. That one act had been like a wide brush, painting a layer of gray over the landscape of her life. And then it was as if Jathan had stepped in, taken off his overshirt, and wiped away the gray like one would wipe mud off a window. If not all of the gray had come off … at least most had.

Mem
placed her crock of homemade ham-and-bean soup on the table, and Sarah took a deep breath and watched as she hurried back into the kitchen for their bread and fresh vegetables.

“I talked to Annie at the store, and Arlene has some flats of strawberries from her greenhouse. Would you like some fer canning?”

“Can you get them tomorrow after work?”
Mem
asked.

“
Ja
, I’m sure I can. Or I can head back over there tonight. It’s not too far out of the way.”

Mem
shook her head. “Tomorrow’s fine, but
danki
.”

“No problem.” Sarah’s smile widened. She stood and served soup to Andy and Evelyn. Then she passed them the fresh bread she’d brought home. They both stared at her as if they didn’t know the person who sat at the table with them. Had she been that different? Had she tucked away her smile within the memory jar, too, after Patty’s death?

Sarah ignored their stares and looked at her mother. “You sittin’ tomorrow,
Mem
?”

“
Ja
, Jenny works at the store fer jest four hours. Kenzie is learning to knead bread as well as you did when you were that age.”

“Are you off, Sarah? I’m heading down to Eureka after
breakfast,”
Dat
offered. “A couple of us hired a driver. There’s an open seat if you want a ride. I’m sure we can drop you by that kitchen store you like so well.”

“
ne
, that won’t work tomorrow,” she blurted out. “I already have plans.”

“Working at the store later? I thought it was yer day off.”

“Not plans like that. Other plans. Bigger plans. I was thinking of moving to Ohio, and I wanted to hear your thoughts.”

Dat
hurriedly swallowed the drink he’d just taken and set down his cup. “Ohio? To spend more time with Jathan, I suppose.” His eyes widened. “But it’s only been a few weeks, Sarah. And you’ve jest started to get to know him. Do you think it’s wise to travel so far when he’s made no clear intentions of marriage?”

“
Dat
, he did ask if we could court … but even more than that, I jest know he’s the one. We complement each other. We already share dreams.”

Mem
pushed away her dinner plate as if she were no longer hungry. She sighed. “Out of the thirty bachelors that visit each year, why does the one Sarah becomes especially close to have to leave early?” she asked
Dat
. Then she turned back to Sarah. “Are you sure it’s wise?”

“It won’t be as if yer sending me to strangers.” She hoped her words sounded convincing. “Aunt Lynnette has been begging me to come and stay fer years. And she lives less than one mile from the bakery that Jathan’s running with his
Mem
. I’ve been praying about my care for him, and I have peace. Don’t you think that God must have a hand in all this? To think that we didn’t know of Jathan more than two months ago and here he lives so close to my aunt.”

Evelyn shuffled in her seat and looked down at her plate, as if reminding everyone of why they’d gathered around the table.

Dat
looked to his plate and then bowed his head. All the heads around the table followed suit, and Sarah offered a silent prayer to God, just as she’d learned to do when she was a child. Being more progressive, her parents weren’t shy about praying out loud at times, but silent prayer at meals was one tradition they continued to follow.

“Tell me about this shop.”
Dat
took a large bite of his biscuit. Beside him, Andy shoveled food into his mouth, acting as if he wasn’t hearing a word being said. Or at least if he heard, not caring.

“It’s a bakery. Jathan’s
Mem
and aunt run it. They want to expand, and Jathan wants to help. Wants me to help too.”

“And you’ll get paid?”
Dat
asked between bites.

“Ja.”
Sarah nodded, even though thinking of it now she didn’t remember anything in the conversation being about money. But surely he was going to pay her. “And I’ll get to learn more about running my own bakery. I never thought before that it could really happen. In the West Kootenai, there really isn’t a need for another one, but now, perhaps …”

Dat
focused on her face and then set his fork on the table. She’d never seen him stop eating in the middle of a meal before. “This is not jest talk? This is happening … tomorrow?”