Authors: Tricia Goyer
Matthew shook his head, and Joy couldn't help but laugh. Within the small community of Pinecraft, the bishop's family was often treated differently. Everyone was on their best behavior around them. It was nice to see they were ordinary people who enjoyed teasing each other.
Inside the garage, it was dim, the only light coming from a small side window. It smelled of sawdust, oil, and glue. How many projects had Matthew finished in this place? Was giving her a peek into his workshop also giving her a peek into his heart?
When Matthew flipped a switch, the overhead fluorescent buzzed and white light flooded the space.
That was another way Pinecraft was different from any other Amish community. Because of the need for air-conditioning in the Florida heat, residents and visitors depended on electricity. Joy inhaled a deep breath and then blew it out slowly. This was Matthew's space, and it meant a lot that he wanted to share it with her.
He shut the kitchen door behind them, and it closed with a click. “So are you working on something for your
mem
? Another gift?”
“
Ja
, a recipe box.” He moved to a high shelf and pushed aside a can of varnish. He pulled down the wooden box and handed it to her. It was larger than most recipe boxes she'd seen, and intricately put together, like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle.
“I made the box wide and deep enough for a magazine page to be folded in half. My
mem
has a habit of tearing recipe pages out of magazines and then folding them super small so they can fit into the box she has. Then she has to unfold each one to find the recipe she's looking for. I'm close to being done.”
“I think you're on to something. It's wonderful. I'm amazed, Matthew, by your work. It seems that big or small, you include so many details.”
“
Ja
, well, I still have to stain it. But the best part isn't just the box, but what will go into it. I wrote my aunts and cousins and asked them to send recipes. I even rented a box at the post office so my
mem
wouldn't become suspicious of all my mail.”
“You put a lot of thought into your plan. It sounds like she's going to love the present.”
“She will, and I'm glad. Things get so busy around Pinecraft when the buses start showing up, and she seems to get shortchanged every year when her birthday comes around.”
Joy turned the recipe box over in her hands before handing it back to him. “You must love woodworking very much. Your face just lights up when you talk about it.”
“Whenever I'm in my workshop I feel as if I'm working alongside God, turning trees into useful things. I⦔ He looked at her sheepishly. “I hope that doesn't make me sound like a fool.”
“
Ne
, just the opposite. I'd love to hear more. Did you grow up learning how to make things out of wood?”
He placed the recipe box back on the shelf. “You could say that. Before my parents moved to Pinecraft and my
dat
became the bishop, we lived up in Indiana. My grandparents lived right down the road, and my grandfather had a lumberyard out in back. My brothers liked it because they used to climb all over the logs, but I loved looking at the wood. My grandpa would show me a board and ask me what type of tree it was from. I was five or six, and I'd get it right every time.” As he spoke he reached over and took her hand, wrapping his fingers around hers.
Warmth spread up her arm, and the connection was strong. She loved getting these glimpses into his soul, into his life. “I bet it was beautiful there.”
“Oh, it was. There were walnut trees, some two centuries old. Elms, oak. Sometimes new green shoots would grow out of the bark of felled trees. My grandfather taught me how to strip bark and square logs to prepare them for sawing.” He chuckled. “And when I got in trouble, I'd have to fill buckets with dried chips for his stove. I never told him, but I didn't really mind that consequence.” He ran his thumb over the back of her hand and looked tenderly into her face. She wondered if he was considering kissing her. Or would he wait? After all, his mother was just on the other side of that door and could open it any minute.
“Sounds like the perfect playground.”
“I thought so.”
Reaching up, Matthew placed his free hand on her shoulder. Then, tenderly, he let it slide down her arm. Butterflies danced in her chest. Realization dawned that he was waiting for her to respond, waiting for any sign that she was willing to be kissed.
Yet the sound of the water running in the kitchen sink and
dishes clanking caused her shoulders to stiffen. Instead of leaning forward or lifting her chin, she placed her free hand on top of his, sandwiching his hand between her palms.
She noted the smallest bit of disappointment in his gaze.
“And how about you?” he asked. “You've told me a bit about your place in Ohio before. Was it hard moving to Florida?”
“I know my sisters have had a harder time. Hope left her garden, and Lovina really struggled for a while before she decided to open that pie shop. Faith is still trying to find her way, I think. And Grace⦔ She grinned. “Grace makes friends wherever she goes.”
“And you?”
“Truthfully, I feel like I've been the most blessed. God gave me a gift when I got the job at the fabric store. Is it strange that a woman in her seventies is my best friend? There are sewing frolics here too. And then I met you.” She brushed her thumb against his in a playful caress. It was a simple gesture, but excitement glimmered in his eyes all the same. “But what about you? Do you miss being up in Indiana?”
“To tell you the truth, I'd like to return someday.” His voice was husky, low. “My brother bought my grandfather's place a while back, right before he passed, but Will has made it clear that the lumber mill is mine. And he'll give me some land too, to build a house of my own.”
Her eyes must have widened in surprise, for he hurriedly added, “All in God's perfect time, of course. How about you, Joy? Do you want to spend the rest of your life in Pinecraft, working at the quilt shop?”
She hadn't really given it much thought, but seeing the hope in Matthew's gaze, she knew her answer. “I like the idea of living someplace like Ohio or Indiana. I'm more like Hope, I suppose. Hope never planned on making Pinecraft her home permanently.
I suppose I have
gut
things to look forward to, whether it's here for a season or there for a lifetime.”
He squeezed her hand tighter, as if he never wanted to let go. “So you don't mind the cold winters up north?”
Joy chuckled. “I'm a seamstress, remember? Winter is my favorite time of the year. I love sitting in front of a cozy fire, sewing.” She squared her shoulders, knowing she spoke the truth. Knowing what he was asking and knowing what she was promising.
“That's
gut
to know.” He released her hands and let out a contented sigh. “And what about Lovina?”
“Oh, she's perfectly happy here in Pinecraft. I've never seen her so happy.”
“Because of the pie shop?”
“Well, that, but my guess is Noah Yoder has something to do with it too. We're all looking forward to their double wedding with Hope and Jonas.”
“And she'll stay in Pinecraft to help care for your father. That's why your family moved down,
ja
? Because of his health?”
Joy glanced up at him curiously. Had he been worried she'd have to stay in Pinecraft to care for her father? She hoped her next words wouldn't disrupt the mood, but she had to be honest about her obligations.
“My father's doing well, but if anything happens, I'll do my part. All of us sisters will.”
“That makes sense.” He smiled, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. “Speaking of doing my part, I have to get back to work, but would you meet me later for pie?”
“Of course, Matthew.” She studied his eyes and offered him a soft smile that she hoped reaffirmed their closeness. “I can't think of anything more I'd like to do. I'll be counting the minutes.”
Â
2½ cups diced potatoes
2 cups carrots, chopped
1 cup celery, chopped
1 cup onion, diced
4 cups water
1 pound imitation crabmeat
1 pound shrimp (can be less)
4 teaspoons chicken base
½ cup butter (no imitations)
¾ cup all-purpose flour
2 cups half-and-half
2 cups milk
salt and pepper
Old Bay Seasoning
Using a large stockpot, cook first four ingredients (through onion) in 4 cups water until soft. Add crab, shrimp, and chicken base. In separate pan, melt butter. Stir in flour, half-and-half, and milk. Cook on medium-low heat until thickened. Add to first mixture. Sprinkle with seasonings to taste.
*
*
Mrs. Bill (Ruth) Gingerich, Sarasota, Florida, in Sherry Gore's
Simply Delicious Amish Cooking
(Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2013), 146.
For faith to prosper, it must experience impossible situations.
A
MISH PROVERB
J
oy had a hard time sleeping. She could blame it on
Mem
's wonderful ham loaf she had for dinner or the pie that topped her off, but that wasn't the truth. She couldn't sleep because of her time with Matthew. Tonight, as they ate pie, he talked more about his grandfather's farm near Shipshewana and the house he wanted to build. Surely he wouldn't talk to her about all these plans without wanting to include her in them, would he?
She'd had a happy life, but the emotions she felt today overwhelmed any she'd ever experienced.
After returning home, Joy struggled with chatting with her parents and sisters. Matthew consumed her thoughts, and a pang of guilt struck as she remembered what Elizabeth had said. She had always loved God it seemed, but not with such an all-consuming love that she lost care for all else. Surely these feelings for Matthew would die down. How would she ever piece another quilt? How would she sit with the other women to work on the quilt top for Hope's wedding quilt tomorrow? How would she ever sleep while seeing Matthew's face and remembering his touch?