Kenzie

Lori, under Kenzie’s supervision, worked until well after eleven o’clock. Her rows weren’t as even on the ends as the ones Kenzie had done, and Lori bemoaned the imperfections with every fling of the shuttle through the shed. Kenzie repeatedly reminded her she was a newbie and shouldn’t expect to be perfect on her first attempt at weaving.

Two brownies with a glass of milk seemed to erase Lori’s deepest angst, and Kenzie wrapped one more brownie in a paper napkin for Lori to take home with her. Lori accepted the package with eager hands, but when Kenzie tried to give her the pan of remaining brownies, she refused. “If I take those home, I’ll eat all of them and Ja—I mean, Brother Jase won’t get any. So you better keep them here.”

“All right, if they’ll tempt you that much, they can stay here.” Kenzie placed the pan on the counter. “I’ll put the last dozen on a pretty plate and have it ready when you pick me up for church tomorrow, okay?”

“Perfect.” Lori pointed at Kenzie. “Sister Kraft is always in the kitchen by five thirty, so let’s try to get there then, too. She’ll have a key and will be able to sneak the brownies into Brother Jase’s office before everybody shows up. If the kids see them, they’ll eat them before he gets any. And it’ll be a nice surprise for him.”

Kenzie tilted her head. “Surprise? Aren’t you going to tell him where they came from?”

“No.” Lori’s dimpled cheeks turned apple red. “Yes.” She hunched her shoulders. “I don’t know. What do you think?”

Kenzie laughed. “I think you should tell him they’re from you.”

Lori pulled in a big breath, then let it out. “Okay. I’ll make a little note to put with ’em.”

The girls hugged at the door, Lori uttering repeated thank-yous in Kenzie’s ear for the rug, and Kenzie assuring her friend she was very welcome. After Lori left, Kenzie changed into her nightclothes and readied herself for bed, yawning as she went through her usual nighttime routine. She rarely stayed up past ten thirty because she was such an early riser, and tiredness tugged at her. But even after she’d said her prayers, read her evening portion of Scripture, and crawled under the covers, her body refused to relax. Or maybe her mind refused to shut down.

Lori’s comments about her father’s rejection troubled Kenzie. Lori’d mentioned growing up in a male-dominated household after her mom died, but Kenzie hadn’t realized her seemingly confident, happy-go-lucky friend harbored such insecurities. Kenzie’s strict upbringing, so different from what the majority of the people she encountered on a daily basis had experienced, left her feeling out of place in most social situations. But when she lived on the farm in Indiana, she’d never questioned whether her parents loved her. She’d honestly say her childhood had been secure, even if outsiders saw it as rigid.

More than Lori’s insecurities, though, a simple question about the brownie recipe taunted Kenzie. Why wouldn’t she give Lori the recipe? She hadn’t joined the Amish church. She no longer practiced many of the rules she’d followed so stringently when she was growing up. As Lori had pointed out, she’d cast aside nearly every bit of her former life. So why hold so tight to the recipe passed down from mother to daughter? She ruminated well past midnight and finally fell asleep without coming to a conclusion.

Her alarm clock blared at six Wednesday morning—her usual wake-up time even on her unscheduled days, which included today. She slapped it silent, then flopped against her pillows. After her restless night, she had no desire to rise and shine, as Mamm used to encourage, but her longtime habit brought her out of bed anyway.

A long hot shower revived her, and she felt fully alert for her morning Bible reading and prayer time. She chose a simple breakfast of cold cereal and orange juice, and while she ate, she checked her email.

Three junk messages and one note from Beech Street Bible Fellowship waited in her regular inbox. She deleted the junk ones. What did she need with car insurance, discount airfare, or cryptocurrencies, whatever they were? She opened and read the email from church, a reminder about the youth supper that evening and an encouragement to invite any young people who weren’t regular attendees to come. Kenzie didn’t know any youth apart from the ones at church, and she didn’t know those teens well, so she deleted that message, too. Then, out of curiosity, she opened the second email inbox Ruby had set up for her to receive messages about the ring.

When the screen loaded, she drew back so sharply that milk sloshed from her spoon down the front of her T-shirt. She grabbed her napkin and dabbed at the splatters while counting the responses. Seventeen. And the post had only been put up on Monday afternoon. How could so many people know about it already? Her pulse galloped in a rush of panic she didn’t understand. Would the ring’s owner be somewhere in this list?

She set the napkin and her bowl aside and read each email. Slowly. Carefully. Seeking any hint that the real owner had sent the message. But not one description mentioned an inscription. So none of these had come from the owner. She sent a pat “this ring isn’t yours” reply to each, deleted the messages, then sat back and frowned at the empty inbox. Had all of those people really lost a ring, or had some of them sent her a query hoping they might get close enough to fool her? She hated the cynical thought. It reminded her too much of Daed’s angry grumbles about being cheated. Yet the pondering was understandable. Some people tried to swindle other people. Sad, but true.

What if the rightful owner never came forward? What would she do with the ring then? She pushed the idle thoughts aside and carried her bowl, spoon, and cup to the sink. Hadn’t Ruby prayed for the owner to be found? And wasn’t Kenzie praying the same thing? They’d find the person eventually, but she needed to exercise patience. In the meantime, she might as well put her hands to the loom. If she worked hard, she might be able to finish weaving the rug for Brother Jase’s office. She doubted she could get it freed from the loom and tied off before Lori arrived to drive her to church, but she’d accomplish as much as possible until then.

Her gaze drifted over the rows caught in the weft as she settled on her stool. What had Grossmammi said about weaving? Seeing the colors come together was like seeing a person’s life emerge—dark colors for hard times, light colors for joyful times, each color a gift from God because it represented a day to serve Him. Kenzie smiled at the memory. But as her hands set to work, her smile faded. She missed Grossmammi. And Mamm and Daed and her brothers. Would today bring each of them a dark or a light color for their life’s weaving? For the first time in a long time, she wished she could see for herself.

Bradleyville

Jase

Jase escorted the youth group members up the hallway to the front double doors. Despite ending their time together on a serious note—prayer time that lasted past their planned cutoff time of eight—the majority joked and laughed, and the boys playfully socked one another’s shoulders on the way. They reached the doors, and Jase held one open with his hip. Several of the kids raised their hands for high fives as they filed out, and the others gave him shy or not-so-shy smiles. Only Charmaine scuttled out without acknowledging him. But he wasn’t offended.

He’d learned during the introduction activity that Charmaine, although only a sophomore, spent most evenings and all night with her dad’s elderly grandmother. She probably needed to get to her great-grandmother’s place and relieve the daytime caretaker. He made a mental note to tell her if things went late again, she should go ahead and leave whenever she needed to. He waved goodbye to the last two, Sienna and Kaia, whom he’d inwardly dubbed Lucy and Ethel for the television best friends. If he ever said the nicknames out loud, he had no doubt everyone would guess who was Lucy and who was Ethel. As he watched them head for the parking lot, Sienna tripped over her own shoelaces. Kaia prevented her from falling, and then they threw their arms around each other’s waists and moved on, both laughing.

Chuckling, he turned in the direction of his office and discovered Brother Kraft standing only a few feet behind him. He glanced at his wristwatch, grimaced, and sauntered over to his boss. “I’m sorry if I held you up.”

The man smiled, but it lacked its usual sparkle. He looked tired. “No problem. The kids all seemed happy. Things go okay tonight?”

Jase didn’t want to toot his own horn, but he thought the evening had gone better than okay. “Yes, sir, I’d say so. The kids were pretty open during our share times, listened during our study, and some even volunteered to pray during our prayer time.” He’d been relieved to see that many felt comfortable praying out loud. He wouldn’t have to be the one to always lead prayer.

“Glad to hear it. So…Cullen cooperated with you?”

The seemingly nonchalant question set Jase’s senses on alert. “Yeah. Shouldn’t he?”

Brother Kraft chuckled. “Well, let’s just say Cullen can be unpredictable.”

A senior girl, Leesa, had introduced Cullen to the group. Jase tried to remember what she’d said that would explain unpredictable behavior. Cullen liked baseball, didn’t have a dad…and was he the one who hated hot dogs? Jase inwardly groaned. Why hadn’t he recorded the intros somehow? He should go to his office and write down everything he could recall before he forgot all of it.

“A lot of his acting out is a bid for attention.” Brother Kraft was talking, and Jase forced himself to listen. “He’s better than he was a few years ago, but he’s not fond of change. Several of us were worried he’d give you some trouble, so I’m glad to hear he did all right.”

“He did.” Jase inched in the direction of his office. “The whole evening actually went real good. Real smooth. I think the kids and I are going to get along fine.” Thank goodness.

Brother Kraft moved alongside Jase. “Just so you know, the adults in Bible study this evening prayed you’d have a good first night, and we prayed for each of the kids individually. At the end of prayer time, people took names and committed to praying through the summer for their teens.”

Jase should appreciate the concern and support, but a snide question flitted through his mind. Were they worried he wouldn’t be able to handle things without extra prayers? He cleared his throat, an attempt to eliminate the unkind idea. Hadn’t he given up looking for the worst in people to instead look for the positive? Brother Tony would be disappointed with the direction his thoughts had gone.

He paused and gave Brother Kraft an honest smile. “That’s real nice of y’all. The prayers of the faithful…they avail much.”

An odd expression creased the older man’s face. “Yes. Yes, they do.” Then a smile broke. “Well, everyone else is gone, so we can head home.”

Jase cringed. “Actually, I’d like to do a little work in my office, if that’s all right with you. I’ll lock the door when I leave.” The church didn’t even have a security system, so locking up only meant turning a key in a dead bolt.

“How ’bout I take care of the front doors, then you let yourself out the west door and lock it behind you when you go?”

“Works for me.” Jase lifted his hand in a wave and set off for his little office in the northeast corner of the church. As he turned at the end of the hallway, the sweet scent of chocolate teased his nostrils. Odd. They hadn’t had anything chocolatey for their youth supper. He opened his door and flipped the toggle light switch up. The overhead fluorescent tubes flickered, then steadied, and he spotted a foil-wrapped plate in the middle of his desk. Was the chocolate smell coming from whatever was under the foil?

He hurried to the desk and lifted the crinkly cover. Brownies. His mouth watered, and he pinched up one of the rich-looking squares and took a bite. At once he remembered tasting these before—the night of his welcome-to-Bradleyville party. Rounding his desk, he took another bite and settled into his chair. The corner of a piece of paper stuck out from under the plate. He popped the last of the brownie in his mouth, swiped his hand down his pant leg, then slipped the paper free and unfolded it.

Brother Jase,

I hope you’ll enjoy this treat. They can either be celebration brownies (Woohoo! The night went great! Eat chocolate!) or commiseration brownies (So things didn’t go great. Eat chocolate; it helps). I hope, for your sake, they’re the former instead of the latter.

God bless your ministry with our youth.

—Lori Fowler

Funny how her perky personality came through in the note. It was nice of her to think of him. He should write her a thank-you note or, at the very least, tell her thanks when he saw her on Sunday. And—he chuckled—make sure she knew they were celebration brownies. But for now, he had other work to do. He plucked another brownie from the plate, stuck it between his teeth, and sealed the rest under the foil. Then he set the plate on the shelf behind him. These things were addictive, and he’d empty the plate if they stayed close. He ate the brownie while gently rocking in his chair and recalling details from the kids’ introductions.

The brownie gone, he rummaged in his drawer for a pad of paper and pen, laid the paper out in front of him, and bent over the page. “Cullen,” he muttered as he wrote, “doesn’t like hot dogs…”