Made with Love (35 page)

With a groan Noah sank onto the bed. For once the guys were silent in the other room. Their mood was somber tonight.

He leaned forward and clutched his forehead in both hands. His heart was still doing a double beat in his chest.
It's my fault…I don't seem to be getting through to them
.
And now Mose's leaving is my fault too.

His whole goal in working on the pie shop was to help the guys. To spend time with them. To train them. To teach them the satisfaction of doing a job well. To mentor them in their relationships with God. And the truth was that he'd let his mind get caught up in other things.

At the thought of Lovina and her wide, brown eyes and her lips that so easily curled into a smile, his chest warmed with a love he'd never felt before.

That was the problem. He was letting his heart get in the way of his head. If he didn't keep his focus, the woman he loved would be hurt the most. If he kept letting his heart lead the way, her pie
shop would suffer. Not to mention that he was already failing miserably with Mose, Gerald, and Atlee.

Lord, give me wisdom.

A Scripture verse filtered through his mind. If he'd heard the verse from his Aunt Karen's lips once, he'd heard it one hundred times. Aunt Karen had been from a Mennonite family, and had joined the Amish church when she'd fallen in love with Uncle Roy. She'd done her best to fit in with the Amish ways, but the people in their community—and even their family—thought she was too “Bible smart” for her own good.

“All that Bible knowledge just makes her think she's better than the rest of us. It's pride, I tell you,” Noah's mem had said.

Yet even when others held her at arm's length, Noah found himself drawn to his aunt. With ten siblings he'd always felt like just another face around the dinner table, but Aunt Karen always took time to ask about him. She always took time to tell him stories and to remind him of God's love.

He'd thought of her words during his darkest moments, sitting alone in the jail cell. When his mind cleared after the accident, he liked to think that the gracious God his aunt talked about was more accurate than the God the Amish minister spoke of. The God who kept track of all his rights and wrongs and would one day weigh them on his entry into heaven.

Aunt Karen had been one of the first to visit him when he got out of jail. She'd gone with him to see the damage the accident had done to the shop too. And it was her words that had sent him in the right direction.

“Noah,
you
can choose the type of person you're remembered for. Wrongs can be made right. But remember you can't do it alone.”

He'd clung to those words back then. “Wrongs can be made
right.” He'd done that to the best of his ability. He'd rebuilt the gift shop, and he'd set his mind and heart on working with the teens. But now, as he sat in the dark of his room, he thought of those words again.
You can't do it alone.
Was that what he'd been doing? He knew it was. And what had he been trying to prove?

He thought about his words to Mose earlier in the day. He'd told Mose that the most important thing was one's relationship with God, but had he lived like that was the truth? Not really. The weight of all he'd said and done—and hadn't said and done—weighed like a ton of bricks on his shoulders.

God, I've failed. Failed You. Failed them.

He picked up his Bible from his nightstand and pressed it to his chest. He didn't need to figure everything out on his own. He couldn't save the teens. He couldn't save Mose. “God, I want to invite You back in. I'm sorry I've been trying to figure it out myself.”

He thought about the distant look in Mose's face, and it broke his heart. He knew that if Mose accepted God, all his human relationships would work themselves out.

“Whatever it takes, Lord. Do what You need to capture their hearts.”

He hated to think what that might mean. Too many people had to get to their lowest point before they turned to God—just like he had. Yet outside comfort mattered little compared to inner peace.

“Do whatever it takes,” he whispered again. It was a hard prayer to pray, but the only one that would make any difference. Only God could help Mose now. And a peace settled over Noah's heart.

 

Hand-Breaded Pork Chops and Creamy Country Gravy

2 tablespoons butter

½ cup vegetable oil, divided

6 thick pork chops

1 cup milk or cream

2 cups all-purpose flour

salt and pepper

½ onion, sliced

Creamy Country Gravy

meat drippings

1 tablespoon butter

3 tablespoons all-purpose flour (more may be used)

1½ cups milk (I use hot milk)

salt and pepper

Heat cast iron skillet with butter and ¼ cup oil. Dip pork chops one at a time in a bowl of milk. Dredge in flour. Season chops with salt and pepper. Place in heated pan along with onion slices. Cook until browned on each side and meat is no longer pink. Add more butter and remaining oil as needed until the last pork chop is cooked. Remove chops and onions and arrange on platter. To the drippings in pan, add butter and 3 tablespoons flour and slowly stir in milk. Now, take a little taste with a spoon. If it's not quite perfect add more salt and pepper. Those are all the spices needed for this pork chop dinner. The only thing that makes this dish better is to serve it with homemade creamy, red-skin mashed potatoes.

 

Red-Skin Mashed Potatoes

8 medium red potatoes

1 stick butter

1 clove garlic, minced

1-2 cups milk—depending on size of potatoes

salt and pepper to taste

Boil potatoes with skin on until soft. Melt butter in a saucepan with garlic. Lightly simmer until butter is melted and garlic is lightly browned. In a mixer (or by hand), mix potatoes with garlic butter, adding the milk slowly until potatoes reach desired consistency. Season with salt and pepper.

Twenty-Seven

Be life long or short, its completeness depends on what it was lived for.

A
MISH
P
ROVERB

L
ovina pulled off her soiled apron and tossed it into the hamper in the laundry room. She touched her kapp, making sure it was still in place, and then hurried into the kitchen where fifteen pies were lined up. She'd made her final decisions for the menu and had baked all day. Now they were going to taste them. They'd had a simple dinner of split pea soup, knowing that their bellies would soon be full of pie.

Hope and Faith were finishing washing the dishes. Joy stood next to an ironing board set up next to the dining room table. She was painstakingly ironing the curtain valances that would soon be hung in the large windows of the pie shop.

Grace had set out Mem's good dishes and had taken some photos of the pies lined up on the counter. She'd purchased the camera with the money she'd been saving. Dat still didn't like the idea of Grace owning a camera, but he'd come to terms with it since his youngest daughter was using it for business. Maintaining
Amish ways was important, but so was making sure Lovina's pie shop succeeded.

Mem was eying the pies. She held a knife in one hand, stopping next to a sweet potato pie. Lovina had changed the recipe a little and it looked perfectly golden and delicious. It smelled fanastic too. All the pies did.

Mem licked her lips. “Can I cut into this one now? I smelled this baking this morning, and I've wanted to taste it all day.”

“Not yet.” Lovina placed a soft hand on her mother's arm. “We have one more guest who should be coming.” She moved to the window and looked out, but she didn't see Noah. It was already twenty minutes later than she'd told him to come, and she knew that she wouldn't be able to hold everyone back much longer.

Lovina smiled to herself at the thought of seeing him again. After the incident with Mose yesterday he'd been distracted all afternoon. Now she couldn't wait to see him smiling and enjoying her pies. She'd baked them thinking of him.

Lovina glanced back from the window and noticed Mem's eyes on her. Her smile fell.

“So Noah Yoder is coming over? You should have warned us.”

“Warned you?” Lovina placed a hand on her hip and turned to face her mother. “Why would you need a
warning
? You are delighted when any of our other Amish neighbors stop by—expected or not.”

“There are things about Noah Yoder you do not know. Have you ever asked what he's hiding from you?” Mem cocked her head to the side and raised an eyebrow. Lovina didn't look away. Faith and Hope paused their washing and rinsing and turned. Grace put down her camera, and from the corner of her eye Lovina could see that Joy had stopped ironing too. Everyone seemed to be waiting.

Lovina pressed her lips together, trying to figure out how to respond. Mem had made it clear that Noah had a questionable past, and she too wondered why he hadn't told her about it, but Lovina had faith he would. When the time was right he would.