Almost Amish (36 page)

“That’s a good idea, Brian.” Angie nodded her approval, but turned back to the card she was creating without ever seeing the glow of approval spread across Brian’s cheeks.

“Where is Aunt Susan, again?” Whitney continued coloring a rainbow across the front of an invitation as she asked the question.

“She went down to the creek looking for a particular kind of herb she thought she’d seen growing wild down there.”

Julie was more than certain there were no wild herbs growing at the creek. Susan had needed some time alone, and that was the most plausible excuse she could come up with. The last few days had been hard on her. Julie wished she could do something to help, but didn’t know what.

There was no reason to sit here wishing for something; she needed to get up and take action. “I’m going out to the garden to see what I can find for our lunch.”

The kids all sort of mumbled their acknowledgment without looking up from the task at hand. Julie sat on the back porch and slid her feet into her gardening boots. As she tightened the laces, she couldn’t help but compare the convenience of the rubber clogs she wore in her garden at home. They may call it the “simple life,” but they couldn’t be more wrong. Never would she again think of
simple
as a synonym for
convenient
. “Simple” was so much more.

“Hello, there.” Susan bounded up the stairs. “I’ve had the most amazing idea.”

“Yeah?” Julie looked over at her, relieved to see the excitement on her face. “Please tell.”

“Lydia’s Legacy is done.”

“What? But, Susan, that is your life, your call. I think you need to take some serious time and think about a decision like this. All your cooking and hospitality books were a part of that ministry.”

“I know. And now they will be a part of the new one. I’m thinking I’ll call it BodyBuilders, although I’m going to have to do a Google search and make certain that someone hasn’t already taken that name. It’s pretty catchy, isn’t it?”

“BodyBuilders? Like exercise and stuff?”

“No. The Body of Christ, the Church. It will be all about building up each of the parts of the body so that we all grow stronger in our own areas, as well as share what we know in different areas. Lydia’s Legacy was too focused on only one area—hospitality. This is going to be so amazing. I’m going to sit down right now and sketch it all out.”

“That’s great.” Julie stood up and started for the door. “I’m going to make a quick trip out to the garden.”

“Do you need me to come help you?”

“Nah, that’s okay, I’ve got it handled.”

Julie sank a little with each step she took toward the garden. How was it that there were people like Susan who could bounce back from adversity so quickly, make something positive from the bad so easily. She already excelled at so many things while Julie barely seemed to be able to take a step in a forward direction. She sighed, trying to tamp her regret. Because she was indeed thankful that Susan had seemingly found something new she was excited about. She deserved happiness.

Julie walked down the row of cucumbers and stopped to pick a couple. She added them to the basket, then moved over to the leaf lettuce and pulled some leaves from the side of one of the plants. “Stop feeling sorry for yourself. You’ve got a great life.” It was true, and she knew that.

After gathering some tomatoes and onions, she started back toward the farmhouse. This time each step she took reminded her of what waited when she returned home. The busyness, the pressure, the pressure to put more pressure on her kids. The more she thought about it, the more she realized that there was nothing there for her. Except Thomas. But even he piled on the pressure to handle events at his office, to push the kids harder.

She climbed the stairs into the kitchen, trying to force herself out of her melancholy mood. She needed to enjoy the time here that she had left. She took the vegetables over to the sink and rinsed them, then placed them in the strainer to dry.

“Mom, come check out the invitations.” Whitney’s voice called to her from the living room.

Julie walked to the next room. “Let’s see.”

Whitney held up a card, a smile of satisfaction on her face. There were stick figures around an oven, and one of the stick figures wearing a skirt was holding what appeared to be a steaming pie. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” She looked at the card, then back toward Julie, a huge grin on her face.

“It’s wonderful.”

“Check this out.” Brian held up a card he’d made, obviously using a straight edge and a ruler. It depicted a meticulously aligned double-railed fence. In the next-to-the-last section, the top rail was broken off one side and touched the ground at what Julie knew must be a forty-five-degree angle—Brain’s work was always precise. “Cool, huh?”

“Totally.” It was so wonderful to see her kids enjoying the simplicity of making their own invitations. She thought of the real world, where the invitations were store-bought, or more likely, emailed. “Let me see what you’ve got, Angie.”

Angie held up an incredible scene. She had used nothing but pencil, but with shading and shadows she’d created something almost more realistic than most paintings. It depicted a long table, plates and utensils at each seat, while pies and cookies lined the center. “That’s incredible.” The words simply flowed from an overwhelmed Julie. Immediately upon saying them, she realized that her adoration for Angie’s superior artwork might be hurtful to her kids. She looked around to see their reactions.

Whitney simply nodded. “Yeah, Angie is our resident
artiste.
” Brian nodded, but was already at work with a straight edge on another card.

“So how are you going to do the invitations? Are you going to vote on which person’s to use, or what?”

“Nah.” Whitney shook her head. “We’re each making a stack, and we’ll take them with us to youth group and hand them out.”

Julie wondered if it bothered Whitney that Angie’s pictures were so much better than hers, but it didn’t seem to. “Are you going to target Brian’s invitations to the boys?”

“We thought about that, and then we decided we’d just do it randomly. The pies might be more tempting to some of the guys than a fence raising, and some of the girls might be more interested in knowing that the boys are going to be there fixing fences than they are in baking.” Whitney smiled. “I think I will try to target some of the shyer girls with my invitations. They’ll see my complete lack of skill and realize that we like people just the way they are around here.”

Julie stood amazed at the wisdom that sometimes came from her sixteen-year-old, flighty, seemingly carefree daughter. “That’s a good idea.”

“Hey, guys, how’s it going?” Susan came down the stairs, carrying a clipboard in her right arm. She walked over to the group. “Looks like the invitation making is in full swing.”

“Aunt Susan, can I mail an invitation to Chris?”

Julie wasn’t certain who showed the most shock at this question, Susan or Angie. Either way, it was time to shut her down. “Whitney, you know he’s not allowed to—”

“He’s not on the crew anymore, so it’s not illegal to talk to him. Besides, he was the leader of the youth group worship band. All the other kids know him.”

Angie hadn’t moved a muscle since Whitney started this line of questioning. In fact, Julie wondered if she’d remembered to breathe.

“Well . . .” Susan looked at Angie. “Would you like that, Angie?”

“Yes.” There could be no doubt of the hope in her voice.

Susan nodded. “I suppose that would be all right. If you can find his address.”

“No problem.” Whitney went back to work without further comment. So did Angie, but a smile lit up her entire face.

Susan gestured toward Julie. “Come here and look at what I’ve done and tell me what you think.”

Julie followed her over to the kitchen table. As Susan started setting out her sketches, Julie leaned forward. “Good for you—about the Chris thing, I mean.”

“Hey . . .” She shrugged. “Watching him in action the other night, I was more than impressed. Besides, I’ve learned I need to rethink a few things. Now seems like a good time to start. And speaking of rethinking . . .” She laid out several drawings of a human skeleton, arms outstretched, with various bones labeled.

Susan pointed toward the skull, which was labeled “Christ”. “This one was easy, of course, because it’s biblical.” Then she pointed at the backbone. At the top, near the shoulders she had written “Pastors / Leaders”. “The spine is the nerve center of the church, of course, and the pastors and leaders are there because they sort of control the direction that the rest of the body moves. Down here, though”—she pointed at the backbone about halfway down—“are the directors of the various ministries in the church. If the spine is broken down here, it doesn’t necessarily shut down the whole body, but it can shut down particular parts of the body. Then here are the lay people who help with all the ministries. They are the legs we stand on, so to speak. And the arms are those with the gift of service; they are always reaching out to help whomever.

“The whole point of this new group will be to support each other in our various ministries, rather than trying to make everyone conform to the skull, or the spine. We’ll simply encourage the fingers to be the best fingers possible, the toes to be good toes, and we’ll make sure everyone understands that he or she is important.”

Julie nodded. “Sounds good.” Julie supposed she was somewhere in the mass of the legs. Not really doing anything special but just doing what she could to help. The body needed its legs, so she was happy about that. Or so she tried to tell herself. “I think I could use a group like that.”

“I’m thinking a lot of people could.”

The black Suburban rolled up the farmhouse drive, spewing a cloud of dust behind it. Whitney and Brian were running beside the back door long before the vehicle came to a stop. “Dad! Dad!”

“Be careful. Get away from the car until it stops.” Even as she said it, Julie knew the admonition would do no good.

When the door opened, they flew into his arms. Thomas put an arm around each of them and hugged tightly. “Wow, it’s just been two weeks, but I’ve missed you guys!”

Brian pulled away and motioned with his head toward the barns. “Come check out our kids.”

“You have kids? I didn’t even know you were married.” He kept his arm around Whitney until she, too, backed away.

“Ha, ha. Very funny. He means baby goats, Dad. Well, they’re not so much babies anymore, because we’re not having to bottle feed them anymore, but they’re still little and really cute.”

“Sounds terrific. Let me hug your mother first, though. I don’t want her to think that goats are more important to me than she is.” Thomas put both arms around Julie and pulled her close. “I’ve missed you.”

“Gross, Dad. Can we move it along now?”

Whitney pulled at his arm, but he didn’t loosen his grip. “No, we cannot.”

Julie sank into his hug, reveling in his strength and support. “I’ve missed you, too.”

He kissed the top of her head. “I guess I’m about to go see me some kids.”

“Excellent! Let’s get moving.” Whitney took three giant steps toward the barn, then stopped and planted her feet. “Wait, where’s Angie? She’ll want to come with us. And Aunt Susan, too.”

“I’ll go find them.” Brian ran toward the house, but before he reached it, the screen door screeched open and Susan and Angie emerged.

“Welcome back, Thomas.” Susan waved and smiled as she hurried toward them.

Angie jogged across the distance and flung her arms around him. “Hi, Uncle Thomas.”

As they walked toward the barn, the children talked nonstop about what they had been doing and what they had learned to do, and gave him the updates of family olympics. “It sounds like you all have had an amazing summer.”

“You haven’t seen anything yet. Wait until tomorrow’s pie frolic and fence raising.”

The heat of the kitchen was unbearable, but given the giggles, the sound of which must have carried for miles, Susan thought the teenagers had somehow failed to notice. The smell of baked goods, some burned, some perfect, filled the air between the house and the barn.

“We’ve got a new pie. Who is game for a piece?” Whitney bounded down the back stairs toward the group of mostly teenage boys involved in the fence raising. They all set down their hammers and saws and hurried over to the plate Whitney held above her head. “One at a time, one at a time.”

Two lone figures remained fence side, not bothering to come for this latest sample. Angie and Chris stood side by side. Chris was actually working on a length of fence, Angie standing close beside him holding nails. They both smiled almost constantly.

“You know”—Gary came up beside Susan, a sliver of apple pie wrapped in a napkin in his hand—“I’m happy enough that you let the kids invite Chris just because I think he’s a great kid, and I think he and your daughter really are growing to care about each other. But, to be completely honest, even if none of that were true, the look on Kendra’s face when she saw him . . .” He began to chuckle and soon Susan joined him. A moment later, they were leaning on each other’s shoulders, laughing all-out.