Planted with Hope (12 page)

Chapter Nine

No joy is complete unless it is shared.

A
MISH
P
ROVERB

J
onas carried three lawn chairs down to Birky Square. A crowd was already gathered on the street and milling around the open, grassy area. Amish and Mennonites of all ages were gathering for the gospel sing. Old Order Amish women wore black dresses. New Order Amish wore similar dresses, but in lighter colors. Almost every young woman wore flip-flops, and one could easily tell where everyone was from by the cut of the dresses and the style of their
kapps
. Men wore everything from homemade Amish clothing to jeans and short-sleeved dress shirts. Laughter rose up among the flowing streams of conversation, but Jonas knew as soon as the music started the noise would still. Musical events like this were not common in most Amish communities. This was a special treat to be enjoyed by those who'd come down to escape winter's harsh grasp.

Emma walked by his side, and Jonas scanned the crowds looking for Hope. He spotted her near the back of the sea of lawn chairs. She stood alone, tall and straight-backed. Her dress was light blue, just a shade lighter than the sky overhead. Her eyes lit up, and a smile filled her face when she spotted them approaching.

“Oh,
gut
, I was hoping you'd bring chairs. My mem, dat, and sisters are using ours.” She pointed to the other side of the gathering. Seeing the back of her parents' heads, Jonas nodded.

“I'm so glad that you're joining me. It's always nice to share
gut
music with new friends,” she added.

“Of course. Emma and I have been looking forward to it.”

When he first came to town Ruth Ann had talked about the concerts. It seemed strange to him that the Amish—who believed playing instruments was too prideful—would find such joy in watching others play. Within the crowd there was also a smattering of Englischers. His guess was that they'd be quick to clap along, but he had no doubt that even the Old Order Amish would begin tapping their toes to the beat once the four-part music group started to sing.

“We'll have to come back in a few weeks too. The first week of February they have a bean soup dinner to go along with the music. A sweet couple hosts it in memory of a sister lost. They cook it in a large kettle over an open fire.”

Jonas set up the lawn chairs. “It sounds like something we should return for.”

He sat, but Emma completely ignored her chair. Instead, she stood next to Hope's chair, leaning close. After a few minutes of listening to the musicians Hope leaned close, speaking low into Emma's ear. “Would you like to sit on my lap?”

Emma grinned and climbed on. Both seemed content to listen to the music, and Jonas's stomach scrunched into a tangle of knots. His palms grew sweaty, and he wanted to look at Hope again, but he was afraid he'd stare too long. He hadn't felt this way since he'd first sat across a fire pit at a singing as a twenty-year-old man and watched Sarah in the glow of the fire. He never thought he'd ever feel this way again.

For all of his life Jonas had learned to follow God's Word and his heart. From a young age his dat had spoken of that very thing.

“Read God's Word and trust, Jonas,” he'd said more than once. “Know that God wants to be involved in every part of your life. See Him in the world around you, and when there is a burning in your chest, follow it.”

That burning in his chest had led him to the small farm in Kentucky. The move had been good for him, and it was in Kentucky that he'd met Sarah. Falling in love with her had been the greatest experience in life, followed by the birth of Emma. Even through Sarah's sickness and death he never regretting marrying her. He would do it all again if given the chance. Loving her had meant everything to him. She'd given him more love in their married years than most men received in a lifetime, he guessed. And now that burning feeling, deep in his chest, had come again.

It was as if the Florida sun was trapped in his chest every time he was around Hope Miller. He'd experienced it the first time at Phillippi Creek. He'd been so frightened when he heard the woman's voice screaming his daughter's name. And then he neared the boat ramp and found Hope soaking wet, holding his Emma cradled in her arms. Emma's arms had been tight around Hope's neck and the beautiful woman had clung to his daughter.

Emma's embrace was partly from fear. It was also of need. He'd done his best to be a
gut
father. He'd tried to treat Emma with tenderness, just as he thought a mother would. But when Jonas saw Emma in the woman's arms he knew the truth.
I'm failing
.
Ruth Ann is right.
Emma needed a mother. He needed a wife. Seeing Emma in Hope's embrace told him that she could be the one.

He sighed, hoping that this inner sense wasn't leading him astray. After all, Hope seemed far from interested in him.

And he guessed why. Hope Miller was young and beautiful.
She was at least eight years younger. He had to face the facts. Hope Miller probably had lots of other bachelors interested in her. Those who were younger. Those who lived in Pinecraft year-round. Those who didn't have a ready-made family.

They listened to the music for nearly an hour. Jonas hadn't seen Emma so peaceful for quite some time. When the music finished they decided to walk down to Pinecraft Park. They talked about winters in Kentucky and Ohio as they walked. They talked about what their homes were like. Hope talked about her garden.

“Emma, when I was your age I used to pick a tin pail full of cherry tomatoes, washing them off under the cool water from the spring pump and then sitting under the tall maple tree and eating them all. I kept the heirloom seeds from those tomatoes. They were as old as the tree itself. Maybe older.”

Emma wrinkled her nose and skipped ahead. “Yuck, who wants to eat old tomatoes?”

Jonas chuckled and shook his head, but he didn't explain. They seemed so content walking along like that.

“My grandfather once told me that our garden had been tended in the same plot since before the Civil War.” Hope sighed as her arms swung at her sides. “I felt part of something there—part of history, part of the heritage. And I sensed I was meant to tend that garden.”

Hope went on to share about her dat's illness and their move.

“And here?” Jonas dared to ask. “You don't feel the same about gardening?”

At the word
gardening
Emma reached up and took his hand, squeezing it. She glanced up at him and winked. Jonas smiled back, knowing their secret was safe.

Hope lifted her hands in the air in defeat. “Here, for so long, I felt like an imposter. The soil is an enemy. The sun a weapon.”

“Those are strong words.”

Hope cocked an eyebrow. “Have you tried to plant anything here?”

“No.” Jonas shrugged. “But I have a feeling, Hope, that under the right conditions you'd be able to get a garden to grow… no, make that
flourish
.”

She tilted her head and looked at him. She opened her mouth to say something, but then closed it again. Had she been about to tell him about the garden behind Me, Myself, and Pie? And if so, what stopped her from saying anything?

Give it time. Give
her
time.
The words blew into Jonas's mind like a soft ocean breeze. Time? He didn't have much of it. As soon as the school year was finished in Pinecraft he'd be heading home.

The music played, and Emma started clapping along, but Jonas's mind wandered. Would there be enough time to see if anything special was growing between them?

 

Bean Soup

½ pound dried white beans

1 onion, chopped

1 tsp. vegetable oil

5 cups water

one ham hock

½ cup mashed potatoes (optional)

½ tsp. salt

¼ tsp. dried thyme

½ tsp. black pepper

½ pound bacon, cut into small pieces

Place beans in a Dutch oven; add water to cover. Bring to a boil; boil 2 minutes and reduce heat. Simmer on low until beans are softened. Drain and rinse beans, discarding liquid. Sauté onions in oil until soft. Stir in the beans, water, ham, potatoes, salt, thyme, and pepper. Add bacon pieces. Bring to a boil. Reduce heat; cover and simmer 1½ hours. Makes 7 servings.

Chapter Ten

Greet the dawn with enthusiasm, and you may expect satisfaction at sunset.

A
MISH
P
ROVERB

H
ope couldn't believe the difference that a week could make. She stood by Lovina's side and her mind couldn't take it all in. Nine raised garden beds had been built, and they were filled with rich, dark soil.

“Did Noah do all this?” The raised beds were two feet high and made with concrete bricks. They were perfect. The soil was perfect. The warm breeze carrying on it the aroma of salty sea air even seemed perfect today.

“Noah, Gerald, Mose, and Atlee… and a few other men from the community helped too.” Lovina swept her hand toward the pipes leading away from the raised beds. “The best part is they put in an irrigation system. One of the local fellows made it so it'll be easy to water the vegetables. All of the beds will get at least six hours of sunlight, just as you asked for.”

Hope clasped her hands together. Then she pointed to the garden beds farthest from the building. “I can see it all now. The tomatoes, peppers, cucumbers, and melons—the fruiting crops—can be out there where they can get as much full sunlight as
possible. Then the broccoli, collards, cabbage, and most of the leafy crops can be here—closer to the building—where they can get more shade.”

“
Ja.
” Lovina nodded. She kicked off her flip-flops and stepped into the cool grass beside the raised bed. “I'm agreeing with you because you obviously know what you're talking about. I'll stick to the kitchen.”

Hope walked to the nearest raised bed. She took a handful of dirt and let it slide through her fingers.

“I'll leave you to your garden, Hope. Just let me know what seeds you'd like to order. There's no time like the present.” Lovina moved back toward the side of the building and then paused. “Oh, and Noah had a message for me to give you. Remember Elizabeth Bieler from the fabric store?”