Harvest of Blessings (16 page)

“
Denki
again for takin’ my busted wheel,” Ira said as he closed the trunk of Nora’s BMW. “Hope those folks in Cedar Creek will want to put stuff in your store, too.”

Nora put on a smile as Ira returned to his work inside the mill. She was hoping to get on the road rather than lingering with Luke, but he had other ideas.

“So are you going to tell me what’s wrong, or do I have to nag it out of you?” he asked in a low voice.

Nora sighed. Why had she thought Luke wouldn’t notice the dark circles under her red-rimmed eyes? Her pale complexion had never allowed her to hide crying jags any more than she could keep her temper from flashing in her eyes. “Just another run-in with my
dat
yesterday.” She shrugged, hoping he’d get the hint.

“And that’s why Millie isn’t going with you? Because Gabe got all bent out of shape about her riding in your car, picking up on your English ways?”

“Everyone at the Brennemans’ witnessed our confrontation, and listened as Bishop Tom threatened to shun Dat for not forgiving me,” she added in a voice that sounded dangerously close to breaking. “But worse than that, he shattered Millie’s hopes—and Mamm’s—because he still forbids me to go to the house. And—and—”

Nora folded in on herself, covering her face with her hands as her shoulders began to shake. “I’m sorry, Luke. I didn’t mean to burden you with—”

“Burden me?” He exhaled his frustration and wrapped her in his arms. “What is his
problem
? Why can’t your father let go of something that happened more than sixteen years ago—especially because you couldn’t control what that perverted bishop did to you?”

“Ah, but Dat thinks I surely must’ve brought it on, because Tobias Borntreger was a friend of his. There were no witnesses, and Tobias is dead, so of
course,
since Tobias couldn’t have been the villain, I made up the whole story,” Nora explained shrilly. “As
if
I would seduce a sneaky, manipulative,
smelly
old geezer who was my
dat
’s age. Yuck!”

For a few moments Nora allowed herself the luxury of being enveloped in Luke’s strength and warmth, even though she sensed she was becoming dangerously infatuated. Luke Hooley was a nice guy, but he didn’t have the best reputation for committing himself to anyone—not that she wanted commitment from another man. She wasn’t sure
what
she wanted right now, except a glimmer of hope that she could become close to her daughter and could reunite with her mother, who were every bit as stymied by her
dat
’s behavior as she was.

“Well, at least Millie looks like you instead of like her father,” Luke replied in a lighter voice. “But I’m not going to let go of this, Nora. It’s not fair that your father can ruin everything you’ve come back to reestablish, and—”

“Please don’t get involved,” Nora pleaded as she wiped her eyes. “It’ll only make things worse.”

“Too late,” Luke murmured. He gently lifted her chin and thumbed away some stray tears. “I’m already involved, Nora.”

She
wanted
to believe in Luke, to place her faith in him even though all the other men in her life had let her down. After Borntreger had stolen her innocence, her father had cast her out, and her husband had abandoned her, Nora had a very dim view of men in general. As the river shimmered with the morning sunlight, she just wanted to drive—to think her thoughts and figure out what to do next. She was hoping the excitement of opening her new store would carry her through these emotionally turbulent times.

“I appreciate your support, Luke,” she murmured. “I just want to go now, okay? Catch you later.”

“Maybe I’ll catch you first.”

Nora felt a grin tickling her lips but she got into her car before this little exchange led either of them to say anything that might feel . . . binding. She preferred to think of their relationship as a sticky note, something she could put in place and focus on when she chose to, yet peel away when Luke Hooley became too insistent. Too intimate.

Nora cranked up the air-conditioner and the radio, blasting out all thoughts that threatened to depress her. It was a beautiful summer morning and she had business to attend to. She couldn’t give the folks in Cedar Creek the impression that she was a shrinking violet or a pansy. She preferred to think of herself as a surprise lily—a sturdy stem that shot up without preamble and burst into a bright eyeful of color.

Nora chuckled at the thought. Luke more likely referred to surprise lilies as
naked ladies.
And maybe his irreverent way of looking at life was exactly what she needed right now.

She just wouldn’t tell
him
that.

 

 

After taking Ira’s buggy wheel to the carriage shop, Nora met young Zanna Ropp, who was thrilled to be consigning her crocheted braided rugs to Nora’s store. Then she drove on down the county highway toward Bloomingdale to speak with Amanda Brubaker, who’d made the exquisite pottery she’d seen in the Cedar Creek Mercantile. As Nora followed the winding road, her thoughts turned toward transportation, because the fellow in the carriage shop and the owner of the mercantile both had raised their Amish eyebrows at her red sports car.

She’d known all along that even the local Mennonites would frown on her ostentatious car, but reverting to a horse-drawn vehicle raised a number of issues. If she bought a horse, she would need to build a small stable for it, and find hay and rations to feed it, and keep it shod and vaccinated and on and on—not to mention buying a surrey, a double-door rig big enough to haul things for the store.

Nora sighed as the dollar signs flew through her head. She didn’t even
like
horses much. It seemed more practical to trade the BMW for a small van— something black, with the chrome painted black, as well, because that was the style the Mennonites around Willow Ridge allowed.

What did
God
think about the distinctions the various groups of Plain folks made? Some groups refused to operate motorized vehicles. Some allowed only steel-wheeled farm implements without any rubber tires, and some stipulated that kick scooters with bike tires and baskets were allowable but bicycles were not. To the outside English world, these religious differences seemed to point up discrepancies and inconsistent beliefs, yet the members of each colony worshipped and honored the same God. Nora knew she would have to fit in, to conform to a particular Plain religious community, or she would never be considered a member anywhere.

In Plain congregations, you were either in or you were out.
And where Dat’s concerned, you’ll be
out
no matter what sort of vehicle you drive.

Once again Nora’s desperation threatened to choke her. Maybe she’d been stupid to move back—to invest all her money before she’d known how her family would react. Maybe she should be looking for somewhere else to live instead of believing she could make a life for herself or build a business among the Amish in Willow Ridge. Maybe she should tell Millie and Mamm good-bye and put a For Sale sign in front of the house and just—

Nora blinked. The resonant voice in her head had sounded so near and clear that Cedar Creek’s bishop, Vernon Gingerich, might’ve been talking to her from the passenger seat. Or perhaps the words had come to her from God Himself.

Nora nipped her lip. Was she stretching the truth, thinking the Lord would speak to
her
? He had to know how she’d avoided organized religion for years . . . how unfamiliar she was with His word, the Bible. Was it heresy to believe she could appeal to Him and He would respond, even though she hadn’t been baptized into the church?

The concept of coming to God just as she was—right this minute—seemed so compelling that Nora pulled over to the side of the road. She turned off the radio and the engine. She rolled down her window and sat with only birdsong and the whisper of the breeze drifting in around her. She wasn’t praying, exactly, but maybe if she opened herself to the message she’d just heard, she would receive the guidance she needed. After all, it had been a still, small voice that had urged her to come back to Willow Ridge . . . to the daughter she’d loved and left behind. And that had been the right thing to do, despite the consequences she’d suffered.

Nora sat absolutely still. Verses from the Bible didn’t just occur to her, and this voice didn’t quote from the stern King James version she’d grown up with in the Old Order church, but from the more modern version written on decorative placards—

Nora frowned. Now she was second-guessing herself. If the words of those wooden signs were coming to her, they were merely a matter of her visual memory and surely couldn’t be inspired by God.

Yet it seemed
right
to think about justice and mercy. She was trying to do justice to the bond she shared with Millie and Mamm, trying to right a wrong from their past—just as she could show mercy and forgive her father for his hard-hearted attitude, if only he’d give her the chance . . . and even if he didn’t forgive
her.

That
was a new bone to gnaw on. If she forgave her father—no matter how he treated her—she’d be doing what the Lord’s Prayer required, as Bishop Tom had pointed out. She could go about her life with a clear conscience, even if forgiving Dat would require a lot of conscious effort. But she could do it. In her heart of hearts, Nora had always known that Dat might never change his opinion of her, yet she’d made her new home in Willow Ridge anyway, hoping for a new start.

The part about walking humbly could certainly refer to getting rid of this flashy red BMW.

Nora looked around to be sure Vernon Gingerich wasn’t standing in the woods, or hovering above her like an angel in a religious painting—which made no sense at all. Three times she’d heard Bible verses in a voice that sounded like his, rich and melodious and so very compelling. Was it a sign? In the Bible, the number three had always been significant . . .

She started the car and made a U-turn. Maybe she was hearing this voice because she’d come to Cedar Creek to accomplish more than taking Ira’s wheel to the carriage shop. Maybe God had led her here, not only to speak with crafters but also to visit with Vernon Gingerich, to seek his counsel. When she’d met him yesterday, he’d seemed so loving and gracious. Even though Jerusalem had probably told him the down-and-dirty about her situation, he’d gazed at her with open acceptance—with genuine goodwill.

Nora exhaled, releasing a lot of tension as she drove to the other side of Cedar Creek. If there was anything that had been in short supply in her life lately, it was acceptance and goodwill. A smile found her as she turned down the gravel lane that ran between the picturesque stone silo and the white board fence she’d sketched yesterday. Vernon Gingerich would listen and give her his opinion in a positive way, even if he had some tough things to say to her. She just knew it.

When Nora knocked on the door, the bishop answered it as though he’d been expecting her. “Nora, it’s so
gut
to see you again,” he said as he stepped out to the porch. “Did you get the details you needed yesterday for the butcher shop banner, or have you returned for more inspiration? Even after living on this farm for so many years, I marvel at the beauty of the pastureland and the cleanness of the air here—sure signs that God lives in every blade of grass and that He’s never finished with His creating.”

Vernon’s face lit up in the morning sunlight as he gazed out over his farm. “In the book of Revelation, it says, ‘Behold, I make all things new.’ If we accept God’s forgiveness, every day’s a clean slate. What a gift!”

Vernon’s childlike excitement was contagious, even as Nora wondered how he’d provided her such a perfect segué. Had he sensed her inner turmoil yesterday? Or was he just that good at seeing into a person’s soul? “It’s forgiveness I’ve come to ask you about,” she murmured. “Forgiveness and faith. I’ve reached the end of my rope with Dat, and—and I don’t know what to do.”

Vernon’s blue eyes glimmered as he gazed at her. “When you come to the end of your rope, tie a knot and hang on,” he quipped, although his tone was serious. “Let’s walk, shall we? Oftentimes, forward motion begets forward thought.”

As they stepped off the porch, Nora dared to hope that she would receive the answers she sought. While the Gingerich farmstead, with its added-on-to white house and classic red barn, appeared far less prosperous than the property she’d bought, Vernon’s love for his home place shone in the vivid red roses that climbed the trellis, the neatly clipped lawn, and the perfectly maintained white fence with sleek ebony cattle watching them from between its slats.

“How’s your father doing, Nora? And by that I mean how do
you
feel about his physical and mental well-being?” the bishop asked. He strolled with his hands clasped behind his back as they followed the gravel lane past his cattle barn.

“When I returned to town, my first thought was that he and Mamm have gotten so
old
,” Nora murmured. Then she chuckled. “Of course, Dat’s nearly fifteen years older than Mamm, and he was nearly fifty when I came along. Yet it seems Dat has gone downhill since my return, while Mamm has come back from what appeared to be her deathbed. I—I’m grateful they’re both alive, and both still mentally alert.”