The Forgiving Jar Read online

  The back door opened, and Michelle stepped into the room, interrupting Grandma’s sentence. Michelle glanced at the stove, then looked at them. “I thought you two were baking.”

  Grandma shook her head. “Not yet. We decided to drink some tea and talk awhile.” She gestured for Michelle to take a seat at the table. “Would you like me to fix you a cup?”

  “No thanks. I just came in to speak with Sara about something. Then I’m going back outside to help Grandpa—I mean, Willis, feed the hogs.”

  “Okay. I’ll leave you two alone while I go down to the basement to get some apples.” Grandma left the table, picked up a large plastic bowl, and hurried from the room.

  When Michelle took a seat across from her, Sara tipped her head to one side. I feel a bit railroaded into this talk. I wanted to spend some downtime with Grandma, not engage with the imposter this morning. She offered Michelle full eye contact. “What did you want to talk to me about?”

  “Well, for starters, I’d like to switch rooms with you. The bedroom I’ve been sleeping in was your mother’s, and I think you should have it.”

  Sara slowly nodded. “Thank you. I feel the same too.”

  Michelle leaned forward, her elbows on the table. “I’m not asking you to be my best friend or anything, but as long as we are both living here, I hope we can be civil to each other and try to get along.”

  “Okay.” Sara’s words came out in a near whisper. Earlier, she had been ready to let Michelle have it, but now that she had the opportunity to unleash her feelings, the words wouldn’t come. It wouldn’t be easy to act cordially toward the imposter, but for Grandma and Grandpa’s sake, she would try.

  Chapter 4

  Clarks Summit, Pennsylvania

  On a day meant for families, Brad looked at the piece of turkey on his plate and wrinkled his nose. Neither it nor the mashed potatoes and gravy held any appeal. Looking around, it seemed a few others had also ended up at this restaurant. A man trying to calm a fussy little boy looked as miserable as Brad felt. Eating by himself at a local all-you-can-eat buffet was not the way he’d hoped to spend Thanksgiving. He had planned to spend this holiday in Harrisburg with his folks, but Mom had come down with the flu last night, so Dad called and asked Brad not to come. Not only was Mom not well enough to cook, but she also didn’t want to expose Brad to what she had. Brad would keep his mother in his prayers and later today check in on her and Dad to see how they were doing.

  Since most of the other seminary students Brad knew had gone home to be with their families, he was left alone to eat by himself. He’d thought about driving down to Strasburg to spend the day with the Lapps but changed his mind. It wouldn’t be fair to drop in on them without an invitation, and even if he’d called yesterday and left a message, he wouldn’t have felt right about inviting himself to share their Thanksgiving meal. Maybe during his Christmas break he would go down to see his old friends. He was especially eager to see how Sara was doing and find out if she’d received his letter. Brad had hoped she might write back to him, but maybe it was for the best that she hadn’t. A long-distance relationship wasn’t a good idea—especially with a young woman who was not a believer. It had been a difficult decision for Brad, because he enjoyed Sara’s company, but his faith in God and calling to be a minister came before anything else.

  He forked a piece of meat into his mouth. While it was nowhere near as tasty as the turkey his mom always made, at least he wouldn’t go hungry. The families dining together around him appeared to be happy. Even the fussy little boy had calmed down and was eating the mashed potatoes on his plate.

  Brad lifted his glass and sipped some ice water. When classes started up again next week, his mind would be on his studies.

  Strasburg

  “You outdid yourself with this meal today, Mamm,” Grinning at his mother, Sara’s uncle Ivan made a sweeping gesture of the array of food on the table. “I bet you got up at the crack of dawn to fix all this for us. And look at the size of that turkey. It must be at least a twenty-four pounder.”

  Grandma gestured to Sara and Michelle sitting beside each other at the table. “I can’t take credit for all the work. These two did their share and then some.”

  Michelle’s cheeks turned pink, and Sara’s face warmed too. “I was more than happy to help,” she said.

  Michelle bobbed her head. “Same here.”

  “Mary Ruth, you should have let us furnish some of the food,” Ivan’s wife, Yvonne, spoke up. “After all, with us being here, there are five extra people at your table. And you know how our boys like to eat.” Yvonne glanced over at her two grown boys, who were eyeing the big bowl of mashed potatoes.

  Sara looked at Grandma to see her response. She wasn’t surprised when Grandma smiled and said, “Not a problem. I enjoy the opportunity to cook a nice meal for my familye.”

  Sara had heard her grandmother say that word before, and knew it meant “family.” The Pennsylvania Dutch language intrigued Sara, and she hoped she would eventually learn to speak it too—or least understand more of the words so she would know what was being said when Grandma and Grandpa spoke it to one another or other family members. Even Michelle had one up on her, sometimes using Pennsylvania Dutch words Sara’s grandparents had taught her.

  “The food looks good, Grandma.” Ivan’s twenty-year-old son Benjamin spoke up. “I was invited to eat at my girlfriend’s home today, but I’m glad I came here to be with our family. I’ll see Marilyn tomorrow instead.”

  As everyone bowed their heads to say a silent prayer before partaking of the meal, Sara’s thoughts went to her mother and how she’d taught Sara to pray silently when she was a girl. Back then, Sara hadn’t realized praying this way was a tradition Mama had grown up with. She’d always thought it was her mother’s way of praying without offending Sara’s stepfather, who was not a religious man.

  But now that I look back, Sara thought, instead of praying, if Mama thought Dean would disapprove of her praying out loud, then why did she send my brother and me to Sunday school? Wasn’t she worried that Dean would be upset about that too? Some things about Mama still made no sense to Sara, although she still missed her mother and wished she could have her back.

  Sara heard Grandpa’s napkin rustle, so she opened her eyes and looked up. Everyone else did the same. She had to admit all the food on the table looked mighty tempting, not to mention the delicious aromas enveloping her senses.

  Grandpa rose from his seat and cleared his throat. “This year something different will occur. I’d like to pass the tradition of carving the Thanksgiving bird on to Ivan.”

  “I’d be honored, Daed.” Ivan stood and waited for his father to pass him the plump turkey.

  All eyes were on Grandpa as he picked up the platter and held it out to his son. Sara licked her lips, but nearly jumped out of her seat when Grandpa lost his grip. The platter tilted, and the turkey slid onto the floor. Following a huge splat, the stuffing shot out of the bird’s cavity like a bullet, and smeared all over the floor.

  It looked like Ivan had made a valiant effort to save the catastrophe from happening, but in so doing, he banged his knee against one of the table legs, knocking over the two burning candles adorning the Thanksgiving feast.

  “Fire!” Ivan’s oldest son, Peter, yelled as everyone jumped back from the table.

  Sara gasped, watching as the beautiful white tablecloth caught fire.

  All the guests scurried, trying to help. Grandma scooped up one of the fallen candles, and Michelle retrieved the other one. Yvonne grabbed the pitcher of water that was on a side table and threw it on the smoking cloth. Ivan picked up the turkey, put it back on the platter, and took it out to the kitchen, while Lenore went to get a grocery bag to spoon up the steaming filling all over the floor.

  Sara couldn’t do anything but stand with her mouth gaping open. This reminds me of a movie I once saw. She had to bite her lip to keep from giggling.

  “I’m sorry, Mary Ruth.” Grandpa’s regret c
ould be heard in his voice. “You worked so hard to make dinner perfect.” He grabbed several napkins and dabbed up the water on the table where the tablecloth now smoldered.

  “It was an accident.” Grandma chuckled as if she was used to this sort of thing happening. “What would a family gathering be without a bit of chaos? And just think about the memory we can all talk about in years to come.”

  “What can I do to help?” Sara asked.

  “How about pulling the skin off the turkey?” Grandma suggested. “There’s nothing wrong with the meat under the skin, since it landed upright on the floor.”

  Grandpa snorted. “Guess if the turkey was gonna take off like that, it couldn’t have landed any better.”

  By now everyone was laughing and making jokes about the flying turkey that tried to get away from the table. What was even funnier was watching Benjamin and Peter scooping mashed potatoes onto their plates, and eating as if nothing was amiss.

  Sara couldn’t recall having this much fun on any Thanksgiving she and her family had ever celebrated. All this laughter had taken her mind temporarily off Michelle crowding her space.

  “I think we have everything under control now.” Grandma hiccupped from laughing so hard. “We’ll give the stuffing from the floor to the pigs. That way they’ll have a Thanksgiving treat too. Peter and Benjamin, would you two mind taking it out after we eat?”

  “Sure, Grandma,” they said in unison.

  “It’s a good thing we made an extra pan of filling,” Michelle said.

  “That’s what I usually go for first,” Yvonne chimed in.

  Even though there was a hole in the tablecloth, everything else was back in order. “We’ll have to get a new covering for our table to use for future Thanksgivings.” Grandpa pointed at the blackened material.

  “Or maybe we should keep using this one.” Grandma winked at him. “Think of the conversations we’ll have each year when Ivan carves the turkey.”

  Again, Sara was amazed at how the family worked together to remedy the situation and could still laugh about it. The people at this table were not only good hearted and deeply rooted in their faith, they found humor in what most folks would be upset about.

  The skinless turkey sat near Ivan, who stood over it, swiping two carving knives together. “Okay, let me get this turkey sliced so we can eat. I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m starving.” He looked over at his sons. “I hope you two saved us some mashed potatoes.”

  “There’s still plenty, Daed.” Peter grinned mischievously.

  As the food got passed, conversation around the table began. Sara’s cousins, Benjamin and Peter, talked fishing with Uncle Ivan and Grandpa, while the women exchanged information about quilting and baking. It was a different experience, seeing how the Amish celebrated this holiday. Growing up in Sara’s home, they may have had harvest-colored decorations in several of the rooms. And Mama’s scented candles burning in the kitchen always permeated the house with pumpkin pie or cinnamon-apple fragrance. But there was no joyful camaraderie, like these good people shared. Oh, there were some good times, Sara had to admit, but for the most part, holidays were quiet and dull by comparison.

  Sara listened quietly as she enjoyed the succulent turkey and other tasty food. It was as if the turkey mishap had never happened. Being here with her newly found family felt right. It made her wish once again that she’d grown up knowing her grandparents, aunt, uncle, and cousins. If Sara’s mother had remained Amish, then perhaps she too would be a part of the Amish community. She wondered where her mother would have sat at this same table as a young child, and later, as a young lady. Sara could only imagine how Mama would have spent her holidays here in this house. Playing indoors after the meal, enjoying her cousins with a board game, and maybe warming up by the fire singing songs together—were these the things Mama used to do?

  Sara poured gravy over her mashed potatoes and held out the bowl to Grandpa. At first he didn’t seem to notice, because he sat, looking intently at Grandma. Sara could see he still felt bad, but Grandma winked again, probably to let him know everything was okay.

  Glancing across the table at her cousin Lenore, Sara blotted her lips with a napkin. Could I fit in here if I were to become Amish? Would I be able to give up my modern ways? She didn’t know why she was thinking such thoughts. Turning Amish when she’d grown up English would be a challenge—one Sara didn’t feel up to—at least not right now. Maybe someday, after she’d lived here awhile, she might ponder the idea. For now though, she would concentrate on getting to know her Amish relatives better and, of course, finding a job. Hopefully, some business in the area would be in need of a receptionist. If not, then she would consider some other type of work when she went job hunting next week.

  Sara forked some creamy mashed potatoes into her mouth. She couldn’t help smacking her lips—the potatoes were so smooth and free of lumps. How in the world did Grandma do it without using an electric mixer? No wonder Ivan’s sons made sure they got to the mashed potatoes first. Yvonne was right—her boys sure liked to eat. Both were already on second helpings.

  Sara looked forward to dessert and tasting at least one of the mouth-watering pies she had helped Grandma bake. She hoped she wouldn’t put on extra weight while living here, because of her grandma’s hearty cooking. While living under her grandparents’ roof, Sara looked forward to learning how to fix some Pennsylvania Dutch meals. Her forehead wrinkled. Too bad Michelle lives here too.

  Sara had to admit she felt a little better toward the pretender since she had switched rooms with her. It felt right to be back in her mother’s old bedroom. It made Sara feel closer to Mama to sleep in the same bed she’d had until she left home so unexpectedly.

  A knock sounded on the front door, bringing a halt to Sara’s contemplations. Grandma excused herself and went to see who it was. She returned to the dining room a few minutes later with Ezekiel at her side.

  “Sorry I’m late,” he apologized. “My mom insisted I stay there until I’d tasted a little bit of everything on the table.” Removing his straw hat, Ezekiel looked at Michelle. “When you’re finished eating, and if you’re not gonna eat dessert right away, would you like to go for a buggy ride?”

  Her gaze went to Grandma.

  “You two go ahead. I won’t get the pies out till everyone’s meal has settled.”

  “Okay, great.” Michelle ate the last piece of turkey on her plate, and then she pushed away from the table. “I’ll get a jacket, and then we can go.” She sent a smile in Ezekiel’s direction.

  Sara struggled not to say anything as Michelle hurried from the room. Didn’t the young woman have the good manners to stick around long enough to help clear the table and do the dishes? Apparently her desire to spend time with her boyfriend took precedence over anything else.

  Sara’s face tightened when Michelle returned several minutes later, wearing a jacket. “I’m ready to go, Ezekiel.”

  Grinning, he nodded. As they headed for the door, Ezekiel stopped and turned around. “We’ll be back in plenty of time for dessert.”

  “Well, if you’re not, there won’t be any boi left to eat, ’cause my fraa’s pies are always the best. In fact, everyone just wants to gobble them up.”

  Grandma smiled in response to her husband’s compliment. “Don’t worry about that.” She poked Grandpa’s arm. “There’s plenty to go around. Even if someone wants seconds.” Grandma glanced at her grandsons, both nodding their heads.

  Ezekiel snickered, as he guided Michelle out the door.

  Sara’s teeth clenched as she fought the temptation to call Michelle out on not clearing her dish before leaving. But she kept her thoughts to herself and let the little pretender waltz happily away.

  I wonder what it’d be like to have a boyfriend who’d look at me the way Ezekiel looks at Michelle. I wonder what Ezekiel sees in Michelle. Apparently, he’s forgiven her too, but I don’t see how. The truth is she also lied to him when she pretended to be me.

>   Chapter 5

  As a chilly breeze blew through Michelle’s hair, she looked over at Ezekiel and smiled. The weather was typical for this time of year, but the crispness of the air was invigorating as it blew into the buggy where the flaps were open.

  Michelle took a deep breath, enjoying the scents of the season. The fragrance of dried leaves still lingered from autumn, and the tang of wood smoke drifting out of chimneys from nearby homes permeated the air. The whiffs of smoke reminded her of campfires from cookouts her foster parents used to have in the backyard. Ezekiel’s horse, Big Red, exuded a pleasant aroma too, and over it all drifted the sweetness of dried hay.

  Riding in Ezekiel’s buggy was more fun than riding in his truck. Hearing the steady clip-clop of his horse’s hooves was a soothing sound. Michelle had missed seeing and hearing Amish horse and buggies during the brief time she’d lived in Harrisburg. And of course she’d missed Ezekiel. Every time she was with him, the moments seemed to go by so quickly. Michelle was thrilled to have some time to talk privately with Ezekiel. The Lapps’ house was full of company this evening, so she and Ezekiel probably wouldn’t even be missed.

  Her thoughts transferred to Sara. The only downer wasn’t the fire earlier at the table, or the turkey that flew off the platter, but the ongoing cold treatment from the Lapps’ granddaughter. Will she ever warm up to me? Is there something I could do or say to make things better between us?

  “How was your meal today?” Ezekiel asked, halting Michelle’s thoughts. “From what I saw on the table, it looked like there was plenty of food to eat.”

  “There sure was.” Michelle patted her stomach. “I ate more than my share too. But we almost didn’t have any turkey.”

  “How come?”

  She relayed the story of how the turkey had ended up on the floor. “I thought Mary Ruth would be upset, but she took it all in stride. Once the fire was out and the mess cleaned up, we all had a pretty good laugh.”