Sewn with Joy (14 page)

He ate that one in three bites too and then accepted the glass of water she offered.

“So do you think you can meet me for breakfast tomorrow?” he asked. “We'll be starting a new job, and I don't have to be there until after ten.”

“I'd love—” She stopped the flow of words spilling out. “Oh
ne
.”

“What?”

“I have to make a delivery tomorrow morning. Six Amish quilts before eight o'clock. I don't think it'll take much time for me to drop them off, but I wouldn't want to tell you I'll be there and then not show up.”

“Someone ordered six quilts?”

“
Ja
, they…or rather
she
did. This lady walked into the fabric store and pointed out the quilts she wanted. The price didn't even seem to be a concern.”

“And she's staying around here?”

“
Ja.
She wrote down the address for me. I remember it being around Pinecraft, but I didn't pay much attention to it.”

“It's not for that television show, is it? Because if you'd like me to go with you…”

A tension built in her chest. Was it for the television show? She didn't think so. Joy bit her lower lip. But what if it was?
I'd better handle this errand on my own.

“How about this…Why don't I make the delivery and then stop by your house? I want to drop off a dish towel for your
mem.
A birthday present of sorts. My delivery shouldn't take too long.”

“
Ja
, that's a
gut
idea. I suppose I should be around for
Mem
's birthday breakfast, and she would love to have you there for it too. She cooks one for herself every year, and
Dat
always surprises her with flowers.”

“If he always does it, is it really a surprise?”

“He likes to think so.”

“Well, if you're sure neither of them would mind me being there, I wouldn't want to miss seeing her act!”

Their laughter merged and danced around the table.

“Speaking of her birthday, I know she'll love the recipe box. I also talked to Lovina about it, and she would love to have some for the store. Do you think you could make twenty?”

“Twenty!” He choked out the word.

“
Ja.
Is that too many?”

“Well, if I didn't have a full-time job…” He let his voice trail off, almost with a wistful tone.

“Maybe you should try woodworking as a job. Once Mose is up on his feet again, I bet he'll appreciate extra work. Not to tell you what to do…”

“Telling me what to do? I don't see it that way. It's more like
believing in me.” He smiled. “You always surprise me, Joy. I was afraid to share my dreams with you—dreams of doing more in my workshop.”

“Well, one thing is for certain—we like to dream around our home. With Lovina's pie shop and Hope's garden…all sorts of dreams are coming to light.”

“And what about you?” Matthew leaned closer, reaching his hand across the table. His palm was open to her. Seeing that, she knew his heart was too. “What do you dream about most?”

Joy placed her hand in his, allowing her small hand to be engulfed in his larger one. “I've never been one to have big, fancy dreams. I never wanted to open a shop or create something big. I do enjoy sewing, but mostly”—she squeezed his hand—“all I've wanted is this. Just knowing I have someone to care for and knowing he cares for me back.”

“It's grown into much more than care, and you know it.” Emotion seemed to tighten Matthew's throat, and his voice grew deep. “Before now, before this, I didn't put too much planning into the future. I sort of allowed things to happen as they did, knowing the
gut
Lord has us under His watchful eye. But lately, well, I've been thinking about it a lot more too. And I wouldn't mind if each night ended like this, with us talking and…” He stood and leaned over the table more, and Joy leaned forward too, anticipating a kiss. But just as their lips touched, footsteps sounded on the back porch. Without hesitation they both fell back into their seats. Joy's heartbeat quickened, both from the kiss and the thought of being caught. Matthew's eyes widened and Joy's hand covered her face, attempting to hold back a giggle.

“Oops,” he whispered.

The door opened, and Lovina walked in. She waved at Matthew and then pointed to the crumbs on the plate in front of him.
“Oh, did you make lemon bars, Joy? I was craving them all day, and when you crave lemon bars, pie just doesn't fix it.”

She hurried to the counter and opened the container, pulling out one bar. After taking a bite she eyed them. “I'm not interrupting something, am I?” One of her eyebrows rose.

“Not too much, and…I did tell Matthew that you like the idea of recipe boxes.”

Lovina nodded. “Oh, and cookbook racks too. I was going to mention that. I've been asked if we carry them many times. You know, just simple wooden racks to hold someone's cookbook off the counter.” She shrugged and turned to the sink to wash her hands. “I don't know why, but they'd sell well. Personally, I know where the best recipes are in a book by the amount of dried food on their pages.”

Matthew squeezed Joy's hand, and her lips pressed into a tight smile. Yes, many more nights like this without having to worry about family members coming in and out and interrupting their kisses. But until then Joy would enjoy every moment. And she could see in Matthew's eyes that he would too.

He pulled his hand back and stood. “See you in the morning then? After the delivery, at my house?”

“
Ja.
I'll see you there.”

She walked him to the front door, wondering again how she'd been so blessed. She wouldn't question it, only be thankful for it. And even as she watched Matthew walk away, she felt complete. She wanted nothing more than to see what the weeks and months had in store for them both. Surely things would only get better from here.

 

Lemon Bars

Crust

2 cups all-purpose flour

½ cup confectioners' sugar, divided

1 cup butter

Preheat oven to 325 degrees. Mix together flour, ¼ cup of the confectioners' sugar, and butter. Press into bottom of 9 by 9-inch pan. Bake for 20 minutes.

Filling

2 cups sugar

¼ cup all-purpose flour

¼ cup fresh lemon juice

4 eggs, beaten

In a large bowl, mix sugar, flour, and lemon juice. Add beaten eggs; mix well. Pour over hot crust. Bake for 25 minutes. Remove from oven and dust with remaining confectioners' sugar. Cool completely before cutting.

Fourteen

If you always wait for the right time, you might never begin.

A
MISH PROVERB

J
oy paused in front of the small house, and a dull ache bowed her shoulders. Matthew was right. This was the house they were using for the television show. She took a deep breath and blew it out, thankful that she'd come alone. She should make the delivery and get on with her day without it becoming too much of a fuss.

Her hand tightened on the handle of the wagon. Six quilts were wrapped neatly and stacked. She'd walked by this house hundreds of times without really paying attention to it. It was the color of oatmeal with a small peaked roof covering the porch. Two tan, plastic chairs sat on either side of the white door. If she didn't know it was being used by a television show, she wouldn't think twice about it. It didn't look much different from any of the other houses on this street.

Her flip-flops patted the ground as she walked to the front and knocked on the screen door frame. She waited a few minutes and then opened the screen door to knock louder. Her fist paused midair. A sign was taped to the door.

Deliveries: Please go to…
It listed an address a few blocks away. Joy was familiar with that area. Before buying the warehouse for Me, Myself, and Pie, Lovina had considered buying an old theater on that street. There were more warehouses there too. Were the television people using one of them to store supplies? She wasn't quite sure how such things worked.

It took no more than ten minutes to walk to the address. And their presence was easy to spot. Metal fencing had been erected around a large warehouse. Small trailers, like ones used for camping, had been set up in the back of the warehouse, behind the fencing. Vehicles were parked out front—both cars and delivery trucks. A security guard manned the entrance. Joy couldn't help but smile seeing him standing so erect and serious. Did they really think their Amish neighbors would try to break in and bother their things? She chuckled at the idea.

Joy took tentative steps toward the security guard. “I have a delivery. I went to the other—”

The man's brown eyes had fixed on her and narrowed. “Name?”

“Joy Miller. I work over at Pinecraft Fabric and Quilts. I'm not sure my name would be on the list though, since I never told it to the woman who bought these quilts.”

He scanned the paper on the clipboard in front of him. “I'm sorry, Miss Miller, your name isn't on the list.”

Didn't I tell you that would be the case?
She held in the words, considering the minutes ticking down. Her empty stomach rumbled. She was going to miss the birthday breakfast.

His face folded into a scowl, and he looked again.

“I imagine my name won't be there as many times as you look.” She tried not to get ruffled. “You see, a nice lady came by yesterday and bought these quilts. She gave me another address, but a sign there said deliveries must be made here.”

“Quilts?” He eyed the wagon suspiciously. “And do you know the woman's name?”

She pulled out the business card and eyed it, but the woman had used one of the cards from the fabric shop. “I'm sorry. She didn't leave her name. She was pretty. She wasn't Amish. I think she had brown hair, maybe with some blond in it. Or was it red? She did use her credit card, but I don't remember much more about her.”

“I'm sorry, miss.” The scowl softened. “I'm sure you're telling the truth. I've just been told not to allow anyone entrance unless their name is on the list. If you give me your phone number I can check—”

“Sir, I don't have a phone and—”

“Charlie.” A voice interrupted her words. A man's voice, one that she recognized. “She's all right. Let her in.”

She glanced up and recognized the
Englischer
she'd helped that first night, the same man who'd approached her at the bus stop. He walked over to where she stood and paused, gazing down at her wagon. “I didn't know about a quilt delivery, but it sounds legit to me.” He chuckled and waved her in. “I assume this is for the set?”

The security guard stepped aside, but he still didn't look pleased. “If I can add your name.” He held his pen up.