The next day seemed to drag on and on. It wasn’t that they weren’t busy; there had been plenty of people coming to the greenhouse. Amy was so tired, and she figured her mother was as well. She’d be glad when their workday ended and they could be back in the house where there wouldn’t be a group of people posing questions and asking for assistance.

“I’m going to the house to take my lunch break.” Mom tapped Amy’s shoulder. “Is that okay with you?”

“Sure, Mom. Enjoy your hot meal.” Drumming her fingers on the counter, Amy noticed that the bags of hummingbird food had gone down. She wasn’t surprised to see the powdered nectar selling so well. She had observed the feeders at their house going empty with the steady flow of hungry hummers and figured many of their customers were also feeding the tiny birds.

Amy rose from the stool and strode toward the storage room. The bags that were ready to be put out sat off to one side. She grabbed all she could and toted them to the display area then put each bag in its place and straightened the rows. Afterward, Amy went to the seed display, where she discovered that certain packets were either low or out of stock.

She went back to the storage room to see if she had replacements to fill the rack that had been depleted. Amy took a notepad and pencil to jot down each item. She would need to get more green bean, radish, and carrot seeds.

“Amy, I’m gonna go eat since we’re not busy,” Henry hollered.

“Just give me a second with this list, and allow me enough time to get the packets of seeds before you leave.”

Frowning, he stepped over to the rack. “What have you written down so far?”

She showed him the list. “I’m about done.”

“I’m hungerich, Sister. I’ll get the items you have listed, but only because I wanna eat.” He snatched the piece of paper out of her grasp.

Amy’s mouth dropped open. “Don’t be so impatient.”

Henry took off, and it wasn’t long before he emerged with a brown bag full of seed packets. “Here ya go. Now, I’m outta here.”

Watching him leave, Amy picked up the sack. She pulled out a few pieces at a time and began her work. When the rack was half done, she realized that the bag was empty. Why am I not surprised that my brother didn’t get all that I needed?

Amy grabbed the paper sack and went to the back room to get the rest of the needed inventory. She peeked out twice to make sure there were no customers waiting at the checkout. Seeing no one, she went to the seed rack and finished her work.

A short time later, Mom returned with a box full of canned pickles. “I got to thinking about these bickels we canned from the garden last year.” She gestured toward the storage room. “There’s an empty wooden shelf in there that could be brought out and used to display these. We can also sell some extra jars of honey.”

“That’s a good idea. With all the tourists we get coming in, they don’t often buy live plants. But they do seem to be interested in our jellies, jams, and honey, so why not try to sell some bickels too?”

Mom rested a hand on her hip. “The strawberries in the garden are coming along well, and it’ll soon be time to make strawberry jam, and we can sell some of that as well. Sylvia agreed to make it, so that’s one less thing for us to worry about.”

“I like the idea.” Amy nodded. “I’m sure the tourists will too.”

“We have to come up with some ways that will set us apart from the new greenhouse.” Mom slid the box aside. “Right now, however, I need to check on your brother and ask him to move some plants around for me.”

“Okay, I’ll stay close by.” Amy yawned. Maybe I’m just overly tired from rushing about for the last few days, helping people choose items that are on sale and answering far too many questions.

She heard the door open and turned to see the homeless lady enter the greenhouse. If she lives in that old shack quite a ways down the road, guess she’s not exactly homeless, Amy reasoned. It’s certainly not much of a home though. I bet she doesn’t have hot and cold running water or indoor plumbing like we are fortunate to have.

Amy glanced at the poor woman, wishing there was more they could do to help other than offering her free baked goods and garden produce from time to time. She remembered the day Lydia bought a plant for the elderly woman. If Maude had any money, it wasn’t much, for she never bought anything from the greenhouse, just came in and looked around. Maude’s clothing was worn and faded, and her hair never appeared to be combed. Amy wondered how the woman came to be in this predicament. Could something tragic have occurred that changed things for Maude?

Amy tried not to stare as the elderly woman ambled down one aisle and then another, looking at the various plants and flowers. Every so often, Maude stopped and glanced Amy’s way then just as quickly averted her gaze.

When Amy’s mother came in with a plate of chocolate chip cookies, which she placed on the counter, Maude ambled up and helped herself to six of the treats. She paused briefly and glanced at Amy then just as quickly looked away. It was almost as though the woman felt guilty about something. Without a word, she slipped out the door with her slender shoulders drawn up and her arms tucked against her sides.

Amy wondered if Maude had stolen some small gift item from the greenhouse and hidden it in the pocket of her baggy dress. Guess I won’t worry about it, she told herself. Even if she did take something, Mom would probably look at Maude in a kindly manner and say, “It’s wrong to take things without asking. Next time you want something from the greenhouse, please come to me and ask.”

Amy sighed. Sometimes her mother could be a little too nice.

Toward the end of the day, Herschel Fisher and his mother came into the greenhouse. They were all smiles as they made their way over to greet Belinda. It had been awhile since they’d dropped by, and she was pleased to see them. Vera seemed to be doing well, despite having to use a cane, and it was nice to see Herschel again. He always seemed so pleasant and sincere. The widower was quite attractive for a man his age. Belinda was surprised he’d never gotten married again. But then, she reasoned, Herschel probably still loves his wife, just as I will always love Vernon.

“Our sale is winding down,” she said, after shaking both of their hands, “but there are still several nice plants and other things to choose from.” She gestured to the items on sale. “You’re welcome to look around, and feel free to ask either me or Amy any questions you may have.”

“Danki, we will.” Vera hobbled over to the hanging baskets, but Herschel held back. “How are things going for you, Belinda?” he asked.

“With the exception of a few minor mishaps, things are well enough, I suppose.” She couldn’t help noticing the kindness in his eyes. Although Belinda didn’t know Vera’s son very well, she’d heard from Sara what a kind, gentle person he was. He’d certainly taken an active interest in his daughter since learning that he was her biological father.

“What kind of mishaps?” Herschel’s brows drew together.

Belinda mentioned the situation with the broken pipe in the garden shed, the bees that had found their way into the greenhouse, the vandalized mailbox, and the greenhouse sign that had been cut down and tossed in the weeds.

Deep wrinkles formed across his forehead. “Do you think all those things were done intentionally?”

Belinda shrugged. “The mailbox and our business sign for sure, and maybe even the ieme, but I believe the pipe that broke was ready to go because it was so old and rusty.”

“Have you notified the authorities about the vandalism out front by the road?”

She shook her head. “Didn’t see any reason to since we have no idea who did those things. I figure they could have been done by rowdy teenagers sowing their wild oats. You know how some of them can be when they’re going through rumschpringe.” She made no mention of Henry as a suspect since she had no proof it was her son who’d done those things. Even if he was the one responsible, it wasn’t something she wanted anyone outside the immediate family to know.

Herschel gave a nod. “I can’t speak on this firsthand, since I never knew I had a dochder until she was in her twenties. But from what other parents have told me, those growing-up days can be difficult to deal with, never knowing what your children might do during that time.”

“And always wondering if they will ever settle down and join the Amish church,” Belinda put in.

“Exactly.”

“My son Henry isn’t actually running around, but he’s been a problem for me ever since his father and brother were killed.” Belinda didn’t know why she felt led to share this with a man she barely knew, but it felt good to get it out.

“I’m sorry to hear that. Would it help if I had a talk with Henry?”

“I don’t think so. Others have tried, and it’s made no difference at all.” Belinda shifted her weight, leaning against the front side of the checkout counter. “Henry might resent hearing it from a near stranger even more.”

“I understand, so don’t worry. I won’t bring up the topic should I see him. However, if he brings it up, would it be okay if I said something?”

Belinda nodded. “I think it’s rather doubtful though. Henry keeps to himself as much as he can, and he’s been bottling up a lot of anger and resentment.”

“I know all about that.” Herschel’s eyes darkened. “I spent a good many years angry at God after my fraa died. Learning about Sara and being able to spend time with her has helped me so much. There’s a purpose to my life, and she’s given me a reason to live and love again.”

“I still have my children and grandchildren, which I’m thankful for.” Belinda’s eyes misted. “I love them all dearly, and they are my reason to keep on living and doing the best I can.”

Since the Fishers were the only customers in the greenhouse and it was almost closing time, Amy left them in Mom’s capable hands and went up to the house to see about helping Sylvia with preparations for supper. She assumed she’d find her sister already in the kitchen.

When Amy entered the room, it was quiet and there was no sign of Sylvia. She and Mom had discussed this morning what they would eat for supper. I suppose it won’t be any trouble for me to get the bacon frying for the turkey-bacon club sandwiches.

She washed her hands at the kitchen sink and got to work heating the pan after getting out the bacon to fry. Once the meat was done and she’d placed the pieces on paper towels to soak up the oil, Amy left the kitchen. She found Sylvia lying on the living-room couch with her eyes closed. Is she really that tired, or is sleeping the way my sister copes with her sorrow—trying to shut it out?

Amy glanced across the room, where Rachel sat in her playpen, holding a rattle in her chubby little hands. Allen knelt on the floor nearby, piling up wooden blocks and then knocking them over. It was a wonder the noise didn’t wake his mother.

Amy was tempted to wake Sylvia herself but decided to let her sleep. Maybe once she got the rest of their supper going, her sister would smell the food and wake up. Or Allen might become louder and that would do the trick.

Amy returned to the kitchen and took a loaf of bread out, along with some lettuce and tomatoes. Some evenings when she felt extra tired, like now, Amy wished they could all go out for an evening meal. But in addition to going through the trouble of getting everyone ready, there was the cost of a restaurant meal to consider. Another reason the family hadn’t gone out to eat was because of Sylvia. She still could hardly stand to be around people.

Amy took a knife from the drawer and grabbed the cutting board. The tomatoes and lettuce came from their garden, which she had picked yesterday. Mom possessed a green thumb for growing produce. Sylvia enjoyed it too, and she’d seemed to be following in their mother’s footsteps until the accident happened.

I wonder how long it will take my sister to overcome her depression and realize she can’t dwell on the past. For the sake of her children, she must eventually move forward with her life. Sylvia needs to find some joy in life and share it with them.

Amy gave a slow shake of her head. Who am I to judge my sister for a lack of joy? All I’ve done since our dear family members’ deaths is try to keep things running smoothly in the greenhouse and here at the house. I rarely feel any real joy these days, yet I force myself to smile so I appear cheerful—especially while at the greenhouse.

Sometimes Amy felt as though she had the weight of the world on her shoulders, even though it was only five family members who shared this home with her.

“It’s okay though,” she whispered. “I love them all dearly and would make any sacrifice on their behalf.”

“Who ya talkin’ to in here, Amy?”

She turned at the sound of Henry’s voice. “Myself,” she admitted.

His brows lifted. “If you’re that desperate to talk to someone, why don’t ya go outside and visit with Sara and Brad? They just showed up, and wouldn’t ya know it—Mom invited them to stay for supper.”

Amy was glad they had plenty of sandwich makings to share, and she would also put together a fruit salad and open a bag of chips.

Henry gave an exaggerated roll of his eyes. “I’ll bet that preacher husband of Sara’s will end up givin’ us all a sermon while we eat.”

“That wouldn’t be such a bad thing, would it?”

“Guess it all depends on what he decides to preach about.”

Amy bit back a chuckle. It would do her brother some good to listen to another sermon. For that matter, it might be just what the rest of the family needed too.