The Hope Jar Page 3

  While she didn’t know a whole lot about the Amish, Michelle had seen a few episodes of a reality show on TV. It was about six young Amish people who hadn’t yet joined the Amish church and had been touring the country on motorcycles. Of course, she wasn’t sure how accurate the show had been, but it gave her an inkling of what Amish life was all about when the people were interviewed and they offered an account of what it was like growing up in homes with lots of rules and no electricity.

  When the elderly couple began walking toward her, Michelle stiffened. I hope they’re not going to talk to me. I wouldn’t have any idea what to say to people like them. They look so prim and proper. I probably seem like a hick to them.

  She took a few steps to the right and turned her back on the couple. They could be here just to purchase a bus ticket, same as me. That show on TV did mention that some Amish people like to travel. Although, at their age, these two would not likely go anywhere on the back of a motorcycle. It did seem odd, though, that neither the man nor the woman had a suitcase. If they planned to make a trip, surely there would be at least one piece of luggage between them.

  “Excuse me, miss, but is your name Sara Murray?”

  Michelle winced when the Amish man tapped her on the shoulder. Oh great, I shoulda figured by the way they were looking at me that one of ’em would end up saying something.

  She turned back around and opened her mouth, but before she could respond to the man’s question, the woman spoke. “I’m Mary Ruth Lapp, and this is my husband, Willis. We’re your grandparents, Sara, and we’re so happy you wrote and asked if you could meet us.”

  When the lady paused to swallow, Michelle was going to say that they had mistaken her for someone else. But she never got the chance, because the Amish woman quickly continued.

  “Since we knew nothing about you until your letter arrived, you can imagine how surprised we were when you stated that you would be coming in on the bus here today.” Mary Ruth gave an embarrassed laugh. She was clearly as nervous as Michelle felt. “Of course, when I dropped your letter in the wet grass, it made it difficult to be sure if this was the actual day you said you needed us to pick you up.”

  Willis nodded. “We were hoping it was, and since you’re here, it can only mean that we read the letter right.”

  Dumbfounded, Michelle wasn’t sure what to say. She looked all around and didn’t see any other young women in the bus station, so she could understand why the Amish couple may have mistaken her for their granddaughter. Would it be wrong if I played along with it? Michelle asked herself. If I go with them to wherever they live, I’ll have a safe place to stay for a while, and I won’t have to worry about finding a job or looking for another town to start over in. This could be the answer to the predicament I’m in financially too—not to mention getting far from Jerry.

  Michelle hardly knew what to think about this turn of events, except that a stroke of luck must have finally come her way. Her conscience pricked her just a bit though. What’s going to happen when the real Sara Murray shows up at the bus station and no one is here to pick her up? Does she know where her grandparents live? What if she visits and finds me impersonating her? Michelle’s fingers clenched around her suitcase handle so tightly she feared it would break. Then, throwing caution and all sensible reason aside, she let go of the handle and gave Mary Ruth a hug. “It’s good to meet you, Grandma.” She smiled at Willis. “You too, Grandpa Lapp.”

  Willis nodded, and Mary Ruth flashed Michelle a wide smile. “We hired a driver to bring us here to pick you up, and it’ll take an hour or so to get to our home in Strasburg. But that’s fine with me, because as we travel, it’ll give us a chance to get to know a bit about each other.”

  Oh boy, Michelle thought, as the three of them began walking toward a silver-gray van. I’ll need to remember to respond to the name Sara and try not to say or do anything that would give away my true identity. This is my chance to get out of Philly and away from my abusive so-called boyfriend, so I can’t do anything to mess it up.

  Chapter 3

  Strasburg

  As the Lapps’ driver pulled onto a graveled driveway, a tall, white farmhouse with a wide front porch stood before them. Several feet to the left was an enormous red barn. No horses or buggies were in sight, but several chickens ran around the front yard, pecking at the neatly trimmed grass. Probably looking for worms. Michelle pressed a fist to her lips to cover her smile. I can do this. After all, how hard can it be to live on a farm for a few days or a week? I’ll just have to make sure I answer when they call me Sara.

  “You two ladies can go on inside while I pay Stan and get Sara’s luggage from the back.” Willis opened the van door and stepped down.

  Michelle got out on her side, and Mary Ruth followed. As they began walking toward the house, Mary Ruth slipped her arm around Michelle’s waist. “I’m so happy you contacted us, Sara. You have no idea how much having you here means to me and your grandfather.”

  Michelle made sure to put on her best smile. “I’m glad for the opportunity to get to know you both.” Her statement wasn’t really a lie. She was glad to be with the Amish couple right now. It was far better than dealing with Jerry and his outbursts of anger and abuse. Depending on how things worked out, she would have free room and board for a few days, or maybe longer. Michelle actually believed, for the first time in a long time, that she had found a safe, comfortable place to stay.

  They were almost to the house when a beautiful brown-and-white collie with a big belly waddled up to greet them.

  Michelle jumped back. She wasn’t used to being around dogs—especially one this large. Ever since she’d been bitten by a snarling dog on the way home from grade school, she’d shied away from them—big or small. Those little ones might look cute and innocent enough, but they had sharp teeth too.

  “It’s okay,” Mary Ruth assured her. “Sadie won’t bite. She’s just eager to meet you.” She reached down and patted the dog’s head. “She’ll soon have puppies, so I bet she was taking a nap when the van pulled in.”

  Michelle wasn’t convinced that the collie wouldn’t bite, but she hesitantly reached out her hand so Sadie could sniff it.

  Sadie did more than sniff Michelle’s hand however. She licked it with her slurpy wet tongue.

  “Eww …”

  Mary Ruth snickered. “She likes you, Sara. Sadie saves her kisses for those she accepts.”

  Feeling a little less intimidated, Michelle bent down and rubbed the dog’s ears. They were soft as silk. “Guess I should feel honored then.”

  “Yes, indeed.” Mary Ruth motioned to the house. “Shall we go inside now?”

  Michelle nodded, eager to get away from the dog. While Sadie might appear friendly right now, she wasn’t sure she could trust the animal. For that matter, Michelle wasn’t sure she could trust herself either. Thanks to her impetuous decision, she was now in a precarious position, pretending to be someone else.

  Stepping onto the porch, she noticed a few wicker chairs, as well as a finely crafted wooden bench near the front door. Hanging from the porch eaves were two hummingbird feeders, as well as three pots of pink-and-white petunias. The picturesque setting was so appealing, Michelle wanted to take a seat on the porch and forget about going inside for the moment. But she followed Mary Ruth’s lead and entered the house.

  When they got inside, Michele felt as if she’d taken a step back in time. The first thing she noticed was a refreshing lemon scent. It reminded her of the furniture polish her foster mother had used whenever she cleaned house. The living room, where Mary Ruth had taken her first, had a comfy-looking upholstered couch with two end tables on either side, as well as a coffee table in front of the sofa. The wooden pieces appeared to be as expertly made as the bench on the front porch.

  Matching recliners were positioned on the left side of the room, and on the right side sat a wooden rocking chair with quilted padding on the seat and backrest. With the exception of a braided throw rug placed near
the fireplace, there were no carpets on the hardwood floors, yet the room seemed cozy and rather quaint.

  An antique-looking clock sat on the fireplace mantel with two large candles on either side. Two gas lamps positioned at opposite ends of the room were the only apparent source of light, other than the windows facing the front yard.

  Several balls of yarn peeked out of a wicker basket on the floor next to the rocker. There were no pictures on the walls, but the grandfather clock standing majestically against one wall made up for the lack of photos or paintings. Despite the quaintness of this room, it had a comfortable feel—like wearing a pair of old bedroom slippers.

  As if on cue, the stately grandfather clock bonged, its huge pendulum swinging back and forth in perfect motion. Michelle would have to get used to the loud tick-tocks and bongs, but it was better than the city noises she’d heard out her apartment window in Philadelphia every night when she tried to fall asleep.

  “How do you like our grandfather clock?” Mary Ruth questioned. Without waiting for Michelle to answer, she rushed on. “It’s been in our family a long time. As a matter of fact, it used to belong to Willis’s grandparents.”

  “It’s beautiful, but big, and kinda loud,” Michelle answered, hoping she didn’t sound rude.

  “You’ll get used to it.” Mary Ruth giggled. “When we first got the clock, it kept me awake at night. But now we hardly notice when it chimes every half hour.”

  Every half hour? Oh boy. It will take some getting used to. Michelle plastered on a fake smile, while nodding her head. During the day shouldn’t be too bad, and hopefully my room will be at the far end of the house, so maybe I won’t hear the clock at night.

  One thing she noticed was clearly missing in this Amish room was a TV. But then she remembered from the reality show she’d watched that the Amish did not allow televisions, computers, or other modern equipment in their homes. She thought the narrator said the Amish were taught to be separated from the desires and goals of the modern world. They also believed the use of modern things in their home would tear their family unit apart and take their focus away from God. Well, maybe they are better off without all the things we, who live in the modern world, have in our homes. Of course, Michelle didn’t have a lot of fancy gadgets. How could she when she kept moving from place to place with only her clothes and a few personal things? If she had a TV available to watch, it was fine, but Michelle felt sure she could get by without it. Actually she didn’t care that much about a lot of modern things.

  “Here’s your suitcase, Sara,” Willis announced when he entered the room. He looked over at Mary Ruth. “Would you want to show our granddaughter her room?”

  Mary Ruth nodded. “Jah, but if you don’t mind carrying her suitcase up the stairs, I would appreciate it. With all the cleaning I did yesterday after we got Sara’s letter, my back’s hurting a bit.”

  “That’s okay. I can carry my own suitcase,” Michelle was quick to say. These people were too old to be lugging heavy things up the stairs. And her oversized suitcase was weighty, because everything she owned was in it. Not that Michelle had an abundance of things, but clothes, makeup, and personal items did take up a lot of space when crammed into one piece of luggage.

  “Well then, if you don’t mind, I’ll head back outside and get a few chores done before it’s time for supper.”

  Michelle took the suitcase from Willis. “It’s not a problem. I’ve been lugging this old thing around for the last six …” She clamped her mouth closed so hard her teeth clicked. Watch what you say, Michelle, or you’re gonna blow it.

  “What were you going to say, Sara?” Mary Ruth put her hand on Michelle’s arm.

  “Oh, nothing. I just meant that I’ve had the suitcase a long time, and it’s seen better days.”

  “Maybe it’s time to buy a new one,” Willis suggested.

  “I’m short on money right now, so new luggage is not a priority.”

  “If you’d like a new one, we’d be happy to help.”

  Michelle looked at Mary Ruth and shook her head. “That’s okay. I’m fine with this one. Sometimes it’s hard to part with old stuff.” It was bad enough she was posing to be the Lapps’ granddaughter; she didn’t want to take their money or any gifts. Just a comfortable place to stay for a while, and then she’d be on her way. Hopefully, by the time the real Sara showed up, Michelle would be long gone and wouldn’t have to offer any explanations.

  While Michelle sat with Mary Ruth and Willis at the kitchen table that evening, preparing to eat supper, she studied her surroundings. The kitchen was cozy, but no less plain than the living room or the bedroom Michelle had been assigned. Several pots and pans dangled from a rack above the stove. A set of metal canisters graced one counter, next to a ceramic cookie jar. On another counter sat a large bowl filled with bananas and oranges. There was no toaster, blender, microwave, or electric coffee pot, nor an electric dishwasher. Michelle knew what that meant—washing dishes by hand. She didn’t see it as a problem, because none of the apartments she’d rented over the years had been equipped with a dishwasher. So washing dishes had become a part of her daily routine.

  The stove and refrigerator were both run off propane gas, which Mary Ruth had earlier explained. Michelle couldn’t imagine how these people got by without the benefit of electrical appliances in their home, but they appeared to be content. It would take some getting used to on her part, though, for however long she ended up staying with the Lapps.

  Michelle noticed a few herb pots soaking up natural light on the windowsill by the kitchen sink. But the brightest spot in the room was the glass vase in the center of the table, filled with pretty red-and-yellow tulips. Their aroma was overshadowed, however, by the tantalizing smell of freshly baked ham.

  Michelle’s stomach growled. She could hardly wait to dig in.

  Willis cleared his throat, directing her attention to his place at the head of the table. “We always pray silently before our meals.”

  Michelle gave a nod and bowed her head. Praying was something else she was not used to doing. They’d sure never prayed before meals—or any other time—when she lived with her parents. Her foster parents weren’t religious either. Even so, they’d sent Michelle and the other foster kids off to Bible school at a church close by for a few weeks every summer.

  Michelle hated it. Most of the kids who attended looked down on her, like she was poor white trash. And when one snooty girl found out Michelle and the others lived with a couple who weren’t their real parents, she made an issue of it—asking if they were orphans, or had they run away from home and been placed in foster care as punishment? If there was one thing Michelle couldn’t stand it was someone who thought they were better than her.

  Then there was the teacher, telling goody-goody stories from the Bible, and making it sound like God loved everyone. Well, He didn’t love Michelle, or she wouldn’t have had so many troubles since she was born.

  Michelle’s eyes snapped open when Willis rattled his silverware and spoke. “I hope you have a hearty appetite this evening, Sara, because it looks like my wife outdid herself with this meal.” Grinning, he picked up the plate of ham and handed it to Michelle.

  “No, that’s okay. You go first.”

  He hesitated a moment, then forked a juicy-looking piece of meat onto his plate. “Here you go, Sara.” Willis handed the platter to her, then dished up a few spoonfuls of mashed potatoes, which he then gave to Michelle.

  She quickly took a piece of ham and added a blob of potatoes to her plate. Next came a small bowl of cut-up veggies, followed by a larger bowl filled with steaming hot peas. Michelle’s mouth watered as she took her first bite of meat. “Yum. This is delicious. You’re a great cook, Mary Ruth.”

  The woman made a clicking sound with her tongue. “Now, remember, I want you to call me Grandma. Referring to me as Mary Ruth makes it seem like we’re not related.”

  That’s because we’re not. Michelle managed a brief nod and mumbled, “I’ll
try to remember.”

  “Same goes for me,” Willis spoke up. “I’d be real pleased if you call me Grandpa.”

  “Okay.” Michelle picked up her glass of water and took a drink. It didn’t seem right to call these people Grandma and Grandpa when they weren’t related to her. But if she was going to keep up the charade, she’d have to remember so they wouldn’t be offended or catch on to the fact that she wasn’t Sara Murray.

  As soon as all the food had been passed around, Michelle’s hosts began plying her with questions, which was the last thing she needed.

  “How old are you, and when is your birthday?” Willis asked.

  Michelle rolled the peas around on her plate a few seconds, then decided to tell them the truth. “My birthday is June 15th, and I’ll be twenty-four years old.” At least that much hadn’t been a lie. She hadn’t even thought about her upcoming birthday until now.

  Mary Ruth smiled and clapped her hands. “Why, that’s just ten days away. We’ll plan something special to celebrate.”

  Michelle shook her head. “Oh no, please don’t go to any trouble on my account. I’m not used to anyone making a big deal about my birthday.”

  The tiny wrinkles running across Mary Ruth’s forehead deepened. “Not even your mother when she was alive?”

  Michelle was on the verge of saying no, but caught herself in time. “I meant to say, since Mom died.”

  Willis ran a finger down the side of his nose. “But according to your letter, our daughter’s only been gone a few weeks.”

  Michelle’s cheeks warmed and she nearly choked on the piece of ham she’d put in her mouth a second ago. “You’re right of course. I’m just feeling a little rattled right now. It all happened so quickly, and I’m still trying to deal with her death.” Michelle couldn’t help thinking: This is only the beginning of many more lies. How am I going to know what to say or not to say without messing up? It might be best if I don’t stick around here too long.