The months of June and July were hot and muggy, but that didn’t keep Lenore from helping Grandma in the garden or doing all the necessary chores around the place. Lenore’s father or one of her brothers still came over regularly to take care of the larger tasks, but for the most part, Lenore managed to get things done on her own and still squeeze in some time to spend with Mark. It surprised her, though, that Mark never volunteered to help out at Grandma’s place. Even though he worked five days a week in his uncle’s shop, Lenore figured he would at least be willing to offer his help to do some things for Grandma.
For the most part, Lenore enjoyed Mark’s company, but she couldn’t see herself in a permanent relationship with him. She hoped he felt the same, because she didn’t want to hurt his feelings by turning down a prospective marriage proposal.
Maybe Mark will never ask me to marry him. He might only see me as a friend, Lenore told herself as she got out the gardening tools in readiness for her cousin’s arrival.
Sara had been closing the flower shop on Mondays lately so she could work Saturdays, which seemed to be one of the busiest days for her business. They’d reached the last Monday in July, and Sara should be arriving soon. Lenore looked forward to this time of working together and getting caught up with each other’s lives. Between Sara’s full-time business and her involvement in the church Brad pastored, they didn’t get to see each other as often as Lenore would like.
Grandma had wanted to help out in the garden today, but she’d pulled a muscle in her back a few days ago, so pulling weeds was out of the question. That was okay; she deserved some time to rest.
“Guess there’s no point in waiting for Sara to get here. I may as well get started on these weeds.” Lenore spoke out loud. She went down on her knees next to a row of bush beans and stuck her hand shovel in the ground. Normally, she was able to keep up with the weeds, but this summer they’d gotten away from her, as she’d spent too much time doing other things. Today, however, Lenore was determined to get all of the weeding done.
Clymer
Michelle sat in a chair on the front porch, rubbing her stomach. It was so hot and humid this morning she could hardly breathe. The flower and vegetable gardens needed watering, and another batch of laundry waited to be washed. She couldn’t muster up the strength, though. Even if she weren’t pregnant, the exceptionally warm, muggy weather would have pulled her down. In Michelle’s condition, it seemed almost unbearable.
Michelle continued to rub her stomach, as though in doing so, she might create some action. “Come on, sweet baby, when are you going to be ready to make your appearance into this world?”
Whimpering, Val, who’d been lying on the porch near her chair, got up and put her head in Michelle’s lap.
She stroked the dog’s head. “Are you sympathizing with me, girl, or do you just need some attention?”
With another whimper, Val nuzzled Michelle’s hand.
“Oh, you’re such a big boppli. I wonder how you’ll act when my real baby is here.” Michelle hoped the dog wouldn’t be too jealous or become aggressive. It would be a blessing if Val got along with the baby, and even acted as a protector should the child ever be put in a dangerous situation.
Michelle had heard about dogs rescuing people who were in peril, or even alerting a person when something like a fire got started in their home. She felt sure her dog was smart enough to alert them of any danger.
“Would you like to take a walk to the mailbox with me, girl?” Michelle rose from her chair. As she stepped off the porch, Val followed. Walking down the driveway, the dog stayed close to Michelle’s side.
Michelle looked down at Val and smiled. “You’re my protector, aren’t you?”
Val wagged her tail.
When they reached the mailbox, the Irish setter stood beside Michelle, waiting patiently while she retrieved the mail. As they turned to walk back to the house, Michelle felt her stomach contract. She paused and waited for it to subside. It wasn’t a strong contraction, but it could mean the beginning of labor. She certainly hoped so, because she was more than ready to become a mother. As far as she was concerned, it couldn’t happen soon enough. Ezekiel was out in his shop, and if the contractions continued, she would let him know.
Strasburg
Mary Ruth repositioned a small pillow behind her back, trying to find a more comfortable position. She felt useless, sitting around unable to do all the normal things. Worse yet, the muscle relaxers the doctor had prescribed made her sleepy. So for the last few days she hadn’t even gotten much knitting or mending done. Her diminished vigor frustrated her. Mary Ruth liked lots of action around her—people to talk with and plenty to do.
It’s probably for the best that Jesse turned down my offer to watch Cindy again. Mary Ruth frowned. She had asked Jesse about the possibility several weeks ago when she’d seen him at the grocery store. That’s when he informed Mary Ruth that he had recently hired a fifteen-year-old girl from outside their church district who’d been coming over to his house to watch Cindy when he was at work.
Mary Ruth felt disappointed and still hadn’t come up with a way to get Lenore and Jesse together again. It didn’t help that Mark monopolized so much of Lenore’s time these days. Mary Ruth was convinced that he was not the right man for Lenore, but she didn’t feel right about saying anything.
She released a heavy sigh. Guess the best thing to do is give my concerns and desires for Lenore over to God and try not to meddle.
Mary Ruth heard a car pull into the yard and assumed it must be Sara. She would rest a while longer, then go out to see how her granddaughters were doing in the garden. She chuckled. And if they need any advice on weed pulling, I can give that too.
“Sorry I’m late, Lenore. I see you started without me.” Sara gestured to the row where Lenore worked, then slipped on a pair of gardening gloves and knelt beside a line of tomato plants.
“It’s all right. I didn’t want to sit here wasting time, so I decided to get busy pulling these stubborn weeds.”
“There does seem to be a lot of them.” Sara clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth as she shook her head. “The abundance of harvest from the tiny seeds we plant is awesome, but weeding is the only part of growing a garden I don’t like.”
“How are the little pots of tomatoes you set out on your patio doing?” Lenore asked.
“Not bad, thanks to Brad. He keeps them watered, and of course since they are in pots, there are very few weeds to worry about.”
“Did you plant anything besides tomatoes?”
“Just a pot of chives. They grow well, and it’s handy to go out back and cut some whenever we have baked potatoes or some other food that chives go well with.”
“Yes, and unless you don’t care about them spreading all over the garden, chives do best contained in pots. The same holds true for mint and most other herbs.”
“You seem to know a lot about gardening.”
“I suppose so—enough to know that these weeds are not giving way easily this morning.” Lenore dug her shovel deep into the ground and lifted out a hunk of weeds. She repeated the process, only this time the shovel went deeper.
Sara tipped her head. “What was that? I heard a clink. You must have hit a rock or something.”
Lenore’s sweaty forehead wrinkled. “I don’t know. It sounded like glass, not a rock.” Lenore reached her hand into the hole she’d created.
Sara dropped her shovel and moved closer to her cousin. “Be careful. If it’s broken glass, you might cut yourself.”
“I don’t think it’s broken.” Lenore moved her hand around inside the hole. “It feels like one of Grandma’s canning jars.”
“Why would a canning jar be buried in the garden?” Sara craned her neck forward.
“I’m not sure. Maybe for the same reason those secret canning jars were found in the basement and barn.”
“You think it’s another prayer jar?”
“We’ll soon see.” Lenore continued to dig and pull, until at last she held the glass jar in her hand.
“Look!” Sara pointed. “There are strips of paper inside.”
“The glass lid is on pretty tight, but I think I can get it off.” Lenore pried on the metal wire holding the lid in place; after a few seconds it loosened, and she removed the lid.
“Reach inside and let’s see what one of the notes has to say. Maybe it’s a few words of encouragement that will brighten our day.” Sara scooted closer to Lenore.
Lenore brushed off her hands, then reached in and removed the paper nearest the top. She spread it out and read 2 Corinthians 12:9: “‘My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness.’”
Sara drew in a sharp breath. “This has to be another jar filled with notes from my mother. But why would Mama hide it in the ground?”
Lenore shrugged. “Should we see what some of the other notes say?”
“Yes. Let’s dump them out on the grass, and then we’ll each pick a note to read.” This wasn’t getting the weeding done, but Sara felt a strong need to see what her mother had written in secret.
Lenore held the jar upside down, allowing the scraps of paper to fall onto the grass. “Do you want to go first, or shall I?”
Sara hesitated a moment, then reached out her hand. “I’ll choose one randomly.” She chose one of the larger pieces of paper lying closest to her knees.
As she read the note silently to herself, Sara’s mouth gaped open. “Th–that’s impossible.”
“What is? What does the note say?” Lenore’s voice rose a notch, but Sara barely took notice.
Sara’s stomached clenched, and her breathing felt restricted. She wasn’t sure she could even speak. “Here, read this.” She handed the slip of paper to Lenore.
“This is my final note before I leave home, carrying the shame of what I’ve done. For the past year I’ve been sneaking out at night or whenever my folks are away to meet Herschel Fisher from a neighboring community. I’ve never told anyone about him, because he’s kind of wild, and Mom and Dad would not approve. I found out the other day that Herschel has been seeing someone else—a young woman named Mattie, and they are planning to get married. There is no point in me telling Herschel now and ruining his chance at happiness with Mattie. I love Herschel and would not want him to marry me out of obligation when he doesn’t love me in return, so Herschel must never know I am carrying his baby.”
Lenore reached over and clasped Sara’s trembling hand. “Jesse’s late wife had an uncle named Herschel Fisher. Could he be the same man your mother wrote about?”
Sara’s skin tingled as her fingers touched her parted lips. “Oh my! Wouldn’t it be something if he was? All those times Herschel came into the flower shop, and the thought that he could be my father never entered my mind.”
“What are you going to do about this?” Lenore asked.
“I … I don’t know.” Sara’s voice trembled as a flush of adrenaline zipped through her body. She’d waited so many years to learn the truth of who her father was, and now she didn’t know what to do. If she approached Herschel and asked if he’d known her mother, would she have the nerve to tell him that she was his daughter, whom he’d never known anything about? Would he be happy to meet her? Or could this unexpected news be too much for him to accept?