Harvest of Blessings Read online

  When Nora gently squeezed her shoulder, Millie felt a confident strength—a determination that seemed to run in the Glick family. She’d always considered this trait as stubbornness in Dawdi and her dat, but Millie felt that for her mamm and Mammi this tenacity fed the faith that had seen them through disappointments and heartaches—which had often been the result of their men’s refusal to see anyone’s viewpoint but their own.

  Millie still had a lot of feelings to sort out, but the warmth and commitment she felt in this group of women seemed strong and right. Her emotions had undergone a radical change, coming almost full circle in the last hour. When Ella giggled, Millie fed her another chunk of the sugar cookie.

  “Maybe this is a good time to clear up another potential misconception,” Nora began as she returned to her chair. “Tom and I talked yesterday about what I plan to do here in Willow Ridge. He has generously agreed that the big barn on my place would make a good consignment store for crafts and handmade items produced by Plain folks around the area.”

  “Oh!” Lizzie said. “I’ve wondered what would become of Hiram’s huge horse barn—”

  “That seems like a real gut idea,” Nazareth chimed in cheerfully. “I’ve not seen any sort of shop for handcrafted gifts around this area.”

  “You need to know,” Nora continued in a determined tone, “that while Bishop Tom was admiring the hangings I’ve made to sell in the shop, he told me I’d have to choose my faith and operate my store accordingly. I’ve thought about what he said, and he’s right. A lot of people in this town will consider my dimensional fabric pieces art.”

  Nora paused to allow everyone to absorb what she’d just said. Millie fed her sister another bit of cookie, intrigued by Nora’s statement that she was an artist. She wasn’t minimizing her talent or trying to pass it off as acceptable to folks like Dawdi and Dat, either. What did that mean?

  “I hope you’ll understand that after a lot of prayer and soul-searching,” Nora continued in a lower voice, “I’ve decided that joining the Old Order isn’t right for me. Even though, technically, I wasn’t shunned, I’m a poster child for the way shutting folks out can shatter families—”

  “I can see why you’d feel that way,” Nazareth remarked.

  “—and I believe that God allowed me to develop my artistic talents so I could support myself,” Nora continued. “So thank you, Tom, for insisting that I commit one way or the other, without waffling or making excuses.”

  “I respect your comin’ out and sayin’ that.” Tom’s smile hinted at disappointment, but he nodded. “That means your family’ll have to decide how they’ll handle your choice, but I think it was the right one for ya.”

  “So what’ll ya be then, Nora?” Mammi asked. “When I saw ya in a solid-colored cape dress, I figured—”

  “I made a few Plain dresses before I came, out of respect for the way you raised me, Mamma,” Nora replied, reaching for her hand. “And I’ve adjusted to living in a house that’s not electrified. And I’ll probably put my car up for sale soon.”

  “You’re goin’ back to a horse-drawn rig?” Millie blurted. Wouldn’t that take Ira and Luke by surprise?

  Nora chuckled, her eyes lighting up. “I don’t know yet. I might trade the convertible for something more practical, with room to haul merchandise for the store,” she said. Then she turned to Mammi again. “I’m thinking to become a Mennonite, Mamma, like the Schrocks who run the quilting shop. Can you accept that?”

  Lizzie chuckled. “It’s Mary Schrock’s husband that Atlee’s partnered with all these years, ya know. Mennonites are just as committed to their faith—and to the same God—as we are. They’re gut people.”

  Mammi looked a little perplexed. “After all these years of wonderin’ what’s become of ya, I can adjust my thinkin’ if ya choose Mennonite ways over ours. But I doubt your dat will accept it.”

  “That’s how I see it, too.” Nora sighed, but then she shrugged. “Dat will be Dat, and I can’t change that. I can only follow what I believe God’s telling me to do.”

  The room went quiet, with only the soft whirring of the fans. Bishop Tom’s ice rattled in his empty glass when he set it down. “I feel we’ve accomplished a lot, talkin’ these things out amongst ourselves,” he remarked. “If ya feel the need to meet this way again, let me know. You’re all welcome in my home anytime.”

  “It was gut of ya to look after us this way, Bishop Tom,” Lizzie said. She gathered the puffy baby quilt from the floor and then opened her arms to take Ella. “We’ve still got some issues to iron out, but at least we women are willin’ to make Nora welcome and to keep our family movin’ forward.”

  “Thank you all so much for talking to me, and for seeing my side of things,” Nora said as she, too, stood up. She smiled over at Millie. “I’ll need a lot of help setting up displays and getting the store ready to open, and I’ll need someone to help me run it, too. If that would interest you—and if your grandparents can spare you—let me know, okay?”

  Millie’s heart skipped rope. She wasn’t ready to accept Nora as her full-time, for-real mother, but working at a craft consignment store would be a lot more fun than hanging around at her grandparents’ house. “Jah, I’ll think about that,” she replied.

  “We’ll see what Gabe says—and what sort of schedule we can work out,” Mammi said with a nod. “We’ll let ya know, Nora. I think that’s a real gut idea, for the two of ya to spend time together.”

  “Even if helping in the store won’t work out,” Nora added, “you’re welcome to come over anytime, you know. Don’t be alarmed if the door’s locked, though. Hiram let himself in the other day, and I’ve installed new dead bolts to put a stop to that. I’m not keeping you out.”

  As Bishop Tom walked them all to the front door, he frowned. “I don’t like the sound of that, Nora. There seems to be no limit to Hiram’s arrogance.”

  When they got outside, Millie saw that her dat had driven Dawdi home in her grandparents’ buggy. As she helped her grandmother into Lizzie and Atlee’s rig, Millie saw that Nora was walking on down to the road. “Can we give ya a ride?” she called out. “It’s awful hot.”

  Nora stopped, shading her eyes with her hand. “Denki for the offer, but I need the exercise. It’s so gut to see you, Millie!” she called out.

  Millie realized that Nora had slipped into the local Deitsch dialect, and it sounded totally natural. She returned Nora’s wave, watching her as she strode along the gravel road.

  That’s your mother. She’s slim and pretty and energetic. She’s an artist who’s opening a store no matter what Dawdi says. Your life—life in Willow Ridge—is about to change in a big way.

  Chapter Twelve

  As Luke walked slowly around the displays in the mill’s sales room, he couldn’t help grinning. It was a fine Friday morning, the first of August, and the Mill at Willow Ridge had officially opened for tourist business today. He wanted to be sure all the refrigerated cases and shelves lined with bags of baking mixes and grains looked just right before anyone else came in. It wasn’t yet six in the morning, but most folks in Willow Ridge had been up for hours tending their livestock, so it was anyone’s guess when somebody might peek in to wish him and his brother well. Or at least Luke hoped they would.

  “Well, Brother, it’s been nearly a year in the making, but here we are,” he said to Ira with a grin. “When we lived in Lancaster, who would’ve believed we’d be operating our own gristmill and store?”

  “It’s been an adventure,” Ira agreed. “Better than anything we ever could’ve had if we’d not taken Bennie’s advice and come to Willow Ridge to—”

  “Is that my name somebody’s takin’ in vain?” a familiar voice teased. Ben peered around the door frame before stepping inside with a large box. “I’ve got some little loaves of bread and fruit bars Miriam made up with your grains. And she sent ya a pie in honor of your openin’ today.”

  “Great! I’ll put her goodies by the checkout,” Luke said a
s he peered into the box. One whiff of the grainy, spicy-sweet aroma told him that all of Miriam’s little packages would be gone by the end of the day.

  “And I’ll relieve ya of that pie,” Ira chimed in. “Someone we know was too excited to make us any breakfast this morning.”

  Ben laughed as he clapped Luke on the back. “If ya can’t get excited about your own store openin’, then why bother bein’ in business?” he asked. “You boys’ve outdone yourselves. When word gets out about all the local specialties you’ve got to offer, you’re gonna be runnin’ a gold mine here. Really.”

  Luke plucked the two forks from the box Miriam had sent. Though he got along well with his older brother, Ben’s praise and encouragement felt especially sweet on this momentous occasion. “It was Ira’s sales skills that convinced some of the area farmers to raise the cage-free chickens so we could sell their eggs,” he said, gesturing toward the refrigerator case. “And he was gut at gettin’ other fellas to grow us some organic oats, rye, wheat, and other grains—along with corn and popcorn.”

  “Your packagin’ looks mighty nice, too,” Ben remarked as he took a bag of coarse-ground cornmeal from the shelf. “And there’s a recipe on the back. That’ll appeal to folks who’ve not cooked with these kinds of grains before.”

  “The idea for usin’ recipes—and all our labels—were Rebecca’s work,” Luke replied as he approached his younger brother. “Ira, if you think that pie’s all for you, think again.”

  “It’s cherry—and still warm, too.” Ira snatched one of the forks from Luke’s hand.

  As his younger brother gouged the pie from one side, Luke dug into it from the other. For a few moments, the two of them forked up huge bites of the tart cherry filling and Miriam’s flaky pastry while Ben made his way around the shop, chatting as he went. The clip-clop of an approaching horse made them both glance toward the door.

  “We should probably set this behind the counter, in case it’s our first customer,” Luke murmured, but Ira held fast to the glass pie pan.

  “This early, who’s gonna care if we’re eatin’ our breakfast?” Ira teased. “And unless my ears are foolin’ me, it’s the two aunts comin’ with their goat cheese.”

  Moments later, as their chatter and laughter preceded them, Jerusalem and Nazareth stepped inside, carrying a large cooler between them. Their steely-gray hair was pulled into perfect buns beneath their starched kapps, and their dresses of magenta and deep green looked freshly pressed.

  “Would ya looky here!” Jerusalem crowed as she gazed around at the shop. “You boys’ve been hard at it since last time I saw this place! Are ya ready for your big day?”

  “We didn’t want ya to think we forgot the goat cheese we promised ya,” Nazareth chimed in as they set down the cooler. “But we wanted it to be real fresh, and we got the labels on just so—and the little plastic tubs for Tom’s fresh-churned butter finally came yesterday. So ya should be set for a while.”

  “Denki, aunts,” Luke replied as he bussed their temples. “This is turning into quite a Hooley enterprise, with you two helping us.”

  “And who knew we’d be gettin’ into such a thing when we left our classroom behind in Lancaster?” The crow’s-feet around Jerusalem’s eyes deepened with her glee. “It’s the hand of God leadin’ us all.”

  “Or proddin’ some of us in the backside to get a real life,” Ira remarked with a chuckle. His fork stopped halfway to his mouth. “I could offer you aunts a bite of Miriam’s fresh cherry pie, I suppose. We need to get out the forks for the sampling table anyway.”

  “Jah, we’re not really as crude and unmannerly as we appear, wolfing this down in front of you,” Luke added.

  “Hah! We know you boys better than that,” Ben teased. “For some protein, ya ought to spread a little of the aunts’ goat cheese on that pie.”

  “Did somebody say goat cheese?”

  The melodic lilt of Nora Landwehr’s voice made Luke’s heart sing along, and when he turned to greet her, his eyes widened. She had a roll of fabric tucked under her arm and a secretive smile on her face. Though she was dressed Plain today, the bright orange, red, and pink plaid of her cape dress made a statement he couldn’t miss. No woman who aspired to join the Old Order Amish would wear such a colorful print.

  “Nora, gut morning!” Ben called to her. “Have ya met our aunt, Jerusalem Gingerich?”

  Luke handed Ira the pie pan to take over the introductions. Or so he thought.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Jerusalem,” Nora said as she came forward with her hand extended. “Tom’s told me you and your sister both married bishops this spring, and that you’re living in Cedar Creek now.”

  Smooth. That was the word for Nora even at this early hour, even wearing clothing that concealed her curves and covered most of her skin. While he had enjoyed her jean shorts and tank top, Luke was secretly pleased that his new neighbor appeared more appropriate this morning—or at least his aunts would think so.

  “Jah, Vernon and I came up for the mill store’s opening today,” Jerusalem replied, gripping Nora’s hand between her two larger ones. “Naz tells me ya bought the place next door, thinkin’ to open up a big outlet for handcrafted stuff that Plain folks’ve made. I can’t wait to go shoppin’ there!”

  Luke blinked. How had he missed hearing such important news? “Seems a lot happened this week while Ira and I have been setting up.”

  “I’ve been a busy bee, jah.” Nora focused on Luke, widening her tigress eyes. “Thanks to Mary Schrock, I’ve got several folks from around here and Morning Star, New Haven, and other little burgs ready to consign all sorts of neat items. They seem really excited about having a central place to sell what they make, and I think this sort of store will bring a lot of tourist trade to Willow Ridge—and to your mill, as well,” she added with a smile.

  Was it his imagination, or was Nora making her expressive eyes glimmer just for him? Luke set his fork in the pie pan Ira held, his breakfast forgotten as he reached toward the big cooler his aunts had carried in. “Did I hear you say you were interested in goat cheese?” he asked. “Just so happens I have fresh bread from the Sweet Seasons and little tubs of my aunts’ cheese, from the goats they keep over at Tom’s place. You can be our first official taster, because we’re ready to set up a sampling table.”

  “That would be fabulous,” Nora replied. “I saw your lights on over here, so I left home before I ate any breakfast.”

  Fabulous. No one else around Willow Ridge used that flashy word much, yet Nora had slipped into the local dialect and its rhythm since he’d last seen her. Luke clearly had some catching up to do . . . later, when his aunts and his brothers weren’t hanging on their every word.

  Nora set her rolled bundle on the nearest table and grinned at the little plastic cup of goat cheese Luke showed her. “Now is this cute, or what? You’ve got a goat face on your cheese containers—and a cow face on Tom’s butter. Where’d you find these adorable labels?”

  Luke’s two aunts lit up like stars. “We asked Miriam’s Rebecca to help us. She’s really gut at all this packagin’ and advertisin’ stuff,” Nazareth replied.

  “Jah, she found the faces and designed the labels, and whenever we need more she’ll print them out for us,” Jerusalem chimed in. “They’re already sticky on the back, too, so ya don’t have to lick anything.”

  “Nothing’s nastier than a paper cut on your tongue,” Nazareth said with a nod.

  Nora chuckled. The sisters were a charming pair, and like most Amish ladies their age, they were easily amazed by such simple advancements as sticky notes or anything generated by a computer. “Seems Rebecca is the go-to girl for all sorts of great ideas,” she remarked. “I’ll have to talk to her about—oh, denki, Luke!”

  He handed her a small disposable plate with a slice cut from a grainy mini-loaf that smelled of oats and cinnamon, along with a generous clump of goat cheese and a plastic knife. The bread was still slightly warm, so the cheese oozed into its
little crevices as she spread it. Nora closed her eyes over the first bite, savoring a robust yet simple goodness . . . something she could never bake herself.

  “Oh my,” she murmured. “If Rebecca’s done your advertising and you plan to have samples of this luscious cheese and bread out today, I predict that the Mill at Willow Ridge is going to be a huge success. This is absolutely divine.”

  Nora didn’t care that the two sisters and the three Hooley brothers were watching her as she chewed her second mouthful of bread and goat cheese. When she finished her sample, she let out a satisfied sigh. “Now that was a gift. Denki to all of you for sharing it with me—and I brought a little something, as well,” she added as she handed the rolled fabric to Luke. “Consider it a shop-warming gift.”

  Luke’s eyes widened as he took her offering. He still smelled fresh from a shower, and with the neck of his pale green shirt open lower than most Plain men would dare, he looked extremely appealing. As he unfurled the hanging, his mouth dropped open. “Would you look at—it’s the mill, Ira! With the paddle wheel—”

  “And the river rollin’ along, and the wildflowers in bloom on the riverbanks,” his brother added in an awed voice. “And it says ‘The Mill at Willow Ridge’ along the top.”

  “Where’d ya get this, Nora?” Luke gazed at her as though he might kiss her in front of his whole family. “This is to hang on the wall, right?”

  “Over here above the display table, where folks’ll see it as soon as they walk in,” Ira said, pointing to a spot near the cash register.

  “My stars, would ya look at this perty appliqué quiltin’,” Jerusalem exclaimed as she held one side of the hanging so everyone could see it better. “I like the way the mill wheel stands out, catchin’ the water. Looks so real it could start turnin’.”

  “And the flowers have beads for petals, with embroidered stems and leaves,” Nazareth murmured, running her finger over these details. “And the ripples on the calico river are fringed, to look frothy.”