Sewn with Joy (15 page)

“She's fine, Charlie, I promise.” The man walked toward the open warehouse door. He wore jeans and a pressed white shirt. Still gone was the ball cap of the first night. He walked as if he ran the place, and she had no doubt he did.

She pulled the wagon behind her and followed the man. “Thank you, uh…I'm sorry. I don't know your name.”

“My name is Steven Spielberg,” he said, “and this is my lot.”

“It's nice to meet you, Steven, but if I can just drop off—”

Laughter spilled from his lips, interrupting her words. “No, no. It was just a joke. Steven Spielberg is the most famous director in the world. Someone I aspire to be like, but I suppose I'm not being funny if you can't follow along.” He gazed at her. “I honestly can't believe you haven't heard of him.”

“Has he visited Pinecraft before? I really only get to know some of the regular
Englischers
who visit the fabric shop. And speaking of that, I do need to get going.” She looked down at the quilts. “If you'll just tell me where to put these.”

He paused and turned to her. “
Englischers?
Like from England?”

“
Ne
, not from England. It's just a name, a reference.” She bit her lips. “It's what we call people who aren't Amish. I don't mean to be disrespectful, I promise. It's just a common term.”

“Interesting.” He tapped his temple as if making a mental note. “I'm Rowan Grant. I'm the director here. I'm actually glad you stopped by. I'd love you to take an insider's look at our set.”

“An insider?” She cringed at that. Being Amish was a faith, a community, not a club. But how could he understand that? “Yes, I suppose I am.”

She jutted out her chin. “But I don't have much time,” she said more directly this time. “There's a birthday breakfast—”

“It'll only take a minute.” He took the handle of the wagon and quickly pulled it inside the large warehouse door. She had no choice but to follow.
Mem
would not be pleased if she returned without the wagon.

Joy walked into the warehouse, and her mouth dropped open.

“This is our open set. It's where we'll be filming the television show.”

The set looked exactly like the living room of many Amish homes in Pinecraft. There were side walls and a back wall, but the front was open. It was as if someone had cut up an Amish home
and partially put it back together here. The back wall was painted white. There was a gold sofa with a diamond pattern situated next to a white sofa with a brown throw over the back. An old brown recliner had tufted cushions and a ruffled skirt.

A side table had coffee rings, and a Bible and devotional book sat there. White curtains hung in the windows, and there were two prints of birds that could have been calendar pages at one time. Joy tilted her head, and a strange sensation came over her. It was almost as if she'd been in this home before, which she knew wasn't possible since it wasn't a real home.

The kitchen looked similar to others in Pinecraft too. It had smoky-gray and tan linoleum, a gold refrigerator, and a narrow oven positioned next to it. Large canisters sat on the white Formica countertops. She chuckled seeing that the lower cabinets and upper cabinets were mismatched. The lower cabinets were a dark walnut color and the upper ones a light oak. It was just like her Amish neighbors to pick up sets at the thrift stores or as castoffs when someone was getting a remodel. Sitting on the counter was a basket of clothespins and a basket of laundry as if the woman of the home was just getting ready to head outside to hang clothes on the line.

“Amazing,” she whispered, looking around.

“Glad you approve.”

“It looks just like the inside of many an Amish home.”

“Yes, I know. I have a good set design team. They know how to research. They may or may not have been in the area for a month taking a look at some of the houses for sale.”

A shiver moved up her arms as he said that. The Amish here were used to being watched. People were always curious. But to learn someone was watching that closely gave her an odd sensation. Had someone been watching her work while pretending to
shop in Pinecraft Fabric and Quilts? Or maybe watching her and Matthew at the park as they talked across the table?

A chill moved down the back of Joy's neck, and something inside told her she needed to leave this warehouse and not look back. Yet the man still held the wagon's handle, and more than that, the happy look on his face gave her pause. He didn't seem as though he was out to mock the Amish. He appeared to honestly care about how he was to portray them.

She looked around, eyeing the lights, the cameras, and the numerous pieces of the set. It was a strange and new world, yet she had to admit it was a bit fascinating.
They are really putting all this work into a story about us? About our ways and our faith?

Elizabeth's words, spoken at the sewing frolic, filled her mind.
The
gut
Lord uses many ways to share His story.
Was God a part of this? Would He really use
Englischers
to help others understand why they chose to live plain and chose to escape the trappings of the world?

“So you really think it looks good?” The man's voice interrupted her thoughts. “I want to make sure it's realistic.”

“It's a wonderful job. You've done well.” She smiled and then quickly hid it. She didn't want to act too friendly. Didn't want this director to think running into each other would be a regular occurrence.

“I'm glad you like it. And I know our set designer will make good use of these quilts. I believe you said you work at the quilt shop.”

Joy felt the anxiety start at the back of her knees and climb upward like stinging fire ants. The thought of him coming to her workplace or stopping her on the street again pushed worries to the forefront of her mind.

“Yes, but I don't work there every day. It's really only a part-time
thing. I enjoy helping Elizabeth out. She's my boss, and she's older. Sometimes I do take on extra shifts…”
Quiet, Joy
, she chided herself.
Stop blabbering so.
“I mean, I'm not there much. Not often at all, and—”

Her words were interrupted by women's voices. They entered the set and looked around. One was tall and slender, and she was wearing an Amish
kapp
and dress. The other was shorter and chubby, and she was snapping shots of the taller woman with her cell phone.

“I just want to see how these colors show up in a photo,” the shorter woman said. She looked around. “Seriously, could they have come up with more shabby furniture? I mean, do people's homes really—”

Rowan—whatever kind of name that was—glanced at Joy and winced as if embarrassed by their words. “Alicia, Georgia, head over here. I'd like you to meet someone.” He waved to them.

The woman in the Amish clothes glanced over her shoulder, causing her
kapp
to slip slightly. Seeing her face, Joy recognized her immediately. It was the woman she'd met a few days ago at the bus stop. She'd introduced herself as Alicia. But she looked completely different without makeup, in an Amish dress, and with her hair pinned up. She also didn't look right. Joy folded her arms over her chest and cocked her head.

Rowan leaned closer. “So you don't approve?”

“Uh, what do you mean?”

“I can tell by the way you're looking at Alicia. You don't approve?”

“It's, well, I think…” She pressed her lips together, unsure how to respond. The
Englisch
woman wore the traditional clothing of the Old Order Amish—a long-sleeved dress, covered by a black apron that fell just below her knees. There was a problem though.
The dress was Old Amish from Ohio, and the
kapp
was like those worn in Pennsylvania.

Then she noticed the woman's shoes. She eyed the low-heeled pumps and tried to stifle a laugh. “Oh, I hope you fix that before they begin filming.”

“Fix what?”

“I'm so sorry.” She covered her mouth with her hand and then removed it again. “I really don't want to get involved. I was just making a delivery.” She reached down and placed a hand on the quilts. “If you can tell me where to put these, I will be going now.”

“I can handle those.” He picked up the pile of quilts, set them on a large crate behind a camera, and then turned back to her. She grabbed the handle of the empty wagon. Then she turned and took a few steps toward the exit, pulling the wagon behind her.

“Wait!” Rowan's voice was soft, yet commanding.

She stopped in her steps and turned. “What?”

He widened his stance, planting himself, and then he crossed his arms over his chest. “I know you don't want to get involved, but my name is going to be on those credits. I want to know… what didn't we get right?”

She looked to the two women, who were half paying attention and half staring at the phone with intensity.

“Eight ten!” the woman he'd called Georgia called out. “So close.” She pulled the phone closer to her face. “But look, you got the biggest photo on the page. They must really like your Amish getup.”

Joy turned back to the man. “It's just, well, anyone who's Amish will know they aren't really Amish. It's the subtle things.”

He straightened his shoulders. “If it's the phones, they're going to put them away.”

“It's not just the phones. It's more than that. Their clothes are all wrong. They're wearing
kapp
s from the Lancaster area, but
their dresses are what's worn in Ohio. And that woman has a wedding ring—”

“But she plays a widow.”

“Yes, but we don't wear wedding rings…or any jewelry for that matter.”

Georgia glanced up from her phone. “Not even wedding rings?” Her brow furrowed. “I thought I read somewhere they did.” She turned to Alicia and shrugged. “You know Rowan just called me five days ago when the original costume designer had to back out. I did my best. I suppose you're going to have to lose that bling too.”

Joy shook her head. “And the
kapp—
”

“Is that what you call their hats?” Rowan asked.

“Yes, it is.” She sighed and stepped forward, untying the woman's
kapp
strings. “First, we don't tie
kapp
strings; they just hang down. Unless you're a toddler or unless you're cooking—then you move them to the back.”

Rowan tilted his head expectantly. “Is there anything else?”

“Well, her hands and face aren't right.”

“Hands and face?”

“There's shiny polish on her nails and makeup—”

Rowan nodded. “Let me guess—you don't do that.”

“No.”

“But I'm not wearing makeup. At all.” Alicia stepped forward, stretching out her hands as if offering a plea. “I washed my face and—”

“Your eyebrows. They're shaped and plucked. And that lip gloss has a shine. And there must be a tint to your moisturizer. I can see it.”

The actress's mouth dropped open. “Lip gloss? I can't even wear lip gloss?” She turned to the director with pleading eyes.

He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. Then he motioned to a guy setting up cameras with a curve of his finger. The man sauntered over. “Listen. We're not going to be able to shoot today. This young woman has informed me of some serious issues with wardrobe.”

The cameraman gaped. “Are you kidding me? Do you know how much it'll cost if we lose a day?”

“Yes, of course. But do you know how much it'll cost if our show becomes the laughingstock of the network?” His voice was tight, and from the look in his gaze, Joy could tell he was holding back.

The other man eyed her and narrowed his own gaze. Her hands tightened into fists, and she pulled them tight against her. She hadn't meant to cause any problems.
You just should have kept your mouth shut.

“I'm sorry if I caused any trouble. I'd best be going.”

Rowan nodded to her, and she turned and hurried off. She couldn't get out of that building fast enough. She also realized how naive Elizabeth had been. How could a television show share the real reason for their plain lifestyle if they couldn't even figure out that married Amish women didn't wear wedding rings? Obviously it was easy to build a set. Anyone could walk through an Amish home and re-create that, but unless one was raised in an Amish community, it was hard to understand the minor details and unwritten rules.

She hurriedly escaped out the tall door with the wagon clattering behind her. Joy sensed their eyes on her back, but she refused to turn or acknowledge how her minimal disapproval had messed up their grand plans. She hadn't meant to discourage them, but the man seemed to honestly want to know her thoughts. She was just glad she didn't have to reveal
all
her thoughts, because as she
strode away the overlying thought was humor and disbelief. How did an
Englischer
expect to put on a dress and portray a lifestyle she'd never spent a day living? It was like a chicken putting on a fur coat and expecting to be accepted among the rabbits. What was under the costume made all the difference.