THE NEXT WEEK Tabitha looked up in surprise as John and Matt pulled up in a long wagon with a tarp hiding something in the back. She’d been trying to balance on her crutches and water the porch plants at the same time. Now she put down the tin watering can to watch with interest and pleasure as the two bruders flung back the tarp and started easing the carved wooden piece of furniture from the back.
As they neared the steps, she recognized it for what it was—a pie safe with punched tin and a high gloss.
“Ach, my,” she cried, then eased open the door and hobbled out of the way.
“A gift,” John breathed, smiling, as they finally set it upright in the kitchen.
“And a wunderbar one!” she laughed, moving close to inspect the hearts on the tin.
“You know, Aenti Beth left me so many great recipes for pie, and now that I think of it, that night in the garden, she said something odd. I’d forgotten about it until now.”
“What was it?” John asked.
“She said, ‘The recipe box is your inheritance, but only the carpenter will know its secret.’”
“Well, John’s a carpenter,” Matt observed casually.
Tabitha looked at John in amazement. “You’re a carpenter,” she repeated then hastened to hand him the recipe box. “What’s its secret?”
John laughed then grew more serious as he took the box with careful fingers. “Perhaps it’s all the goodness contained inside in the recipes themselves.”
“I’ve thought of that,” Tabitha said. “It has to be something only a carpenter would know.”
John moved closer to the kerosene lamp. “Well, it is wood, of course . . . a nice auld walnut.” He opened the lid and took the recipes out, laying them on the table. Then he looked carefully inside the box, turning it this way and that. “I can’t see anything unusual . . . unless . . .” He turned the box over and studied the bottom. Suddenly he pressed something and there was a definitive click. Then he slid a panel from the base of the small box.
“Ach, my . . .” Tabitha gasped.
“It’s a puzzle box,” John said.
“Well, what’s in there?” Matt demanded noisily.
“That’s for Tabitha to find out.” John handed her the box and she took it with shaking hands.
She peered into the tiny alcove, then lifted a folded piece of paper from the space. She opened it and read to herself, then she looked up at John with her lips set. “John, I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to leave for two hours.”
“What?” Matt exploded.
John obeyed Tabitha without comment, dragging his younger bruder with him.
Tabitha watched them go, tears sparkling in her eyes. Then she carefully lay the paper down on the table and turned to reach for the yellow mixing bowl and a pie pan.
Two hours to the minute and minus Matt, John knocked at the screen door, smelling a sweet aroma coming from within the kitchen. Tabitha met him at the door and grabbed his hand, pulling him after her to the kitchen table.
“Now, John, sei se gut, close your eyes.”
He did as he was asked, wondering with a smile what she was up to. Then he heard something being slid onto the table in front of him.
“All right, John,” she called. “Open your eyes!”
He did and stared first at her beautiful smile then down at the table. “Apple pie!” he exclaimed. “My favorite. Danki.”
She shook her head.
“Not apple?” he asked in happy confusion.
She moved the recipe box next to the pie, then pulled a folded paper from her apron pocket. “Not only apple—you must listen. This . . . is my true inheritance from Aenti Elizabeth and from her grossmuder.” He watched her delicate throat work as she swallowed. Then she began to read:
For a woman who has found a devout man, and this man the true love of her heart, a secret recipe, never to be revealed to the man except through the tasting of the food—an “Apple of His Eye” apple pie. For the woman should always say, “Keep me as the apple of your eye; hide me in the shadow of your wings.”
Tabitha lifted her head. “And then there’s the recipe . . .”
“Which I’m to never know but through the tasting of the pie?”
She cast her lashes down demurely. “If you would like a taste, ya.”
He stepped near her, ignoring the pie for the moment. “Ach, ya,” he breathed, taking her in his arms. “I would indeed have a taste. For you, woman, are indeed the apple of my eye and the very love of my heart.”
Then he bent and kissed her, once and hard, only to draw back and stare down into her eyes—which were twin pools of promise. And he knew, as a sure inheritance, that he was home.