Love At Pebble Creek (Hope Chest of Dreams Book 5) Read online

  Everyone looked at him to go on.

  “About the recipe not being in writing.” His fork clinked against the glass plate as he bit into mashed potatoes. “Is that really true?”

  Paul offered a nod. “Jah. The recipe’s strictly by memory. Great-Grandma believed that was the only way to ensure the secret didn’t get out. And amazingly, it hasn’t.” After a short pause, he added, “As far as we know anyway.”

  “It’s a miracle it stayed a secret.” Jesse winked at Anna. “You must have a clan of good secret keepers.”

  As they ate, Jesse considered a different secret. Anna’s. He would continue to pray about her and what to advise her to do. As he chatted with her parents, he became even more convinced that what she had planned would send her wonderful, kind parents into shock, at best.

  She was their only child. There would be no spares to stay home and help with chores. Still, Jesse wasn’t sure if Anna should or shouldn’t pursue her dream; that was something that only the Heavenly Father would know. Jesse wasn’t about to try to make a call that was God’s and God’s alone.

  The bad thing was, Anna and God weren’t the only people involved in her plan. He eyed Paul King. Then Naomi. Two wonderful church members.

  Automatically, he wondered how Anna’s folks would react if they became privy to their daughter’s plan. Of course, he’d given Anna his word that he wouldn’t say anything. Maemm had always stressed minding one’s own business. And although Jesse had concerns about Anna, and that she might leave the community, he would keep it to himself.

  But when he glanced across the table and took in the strained expression on Anna’s face, he couldn’t help but wonder how Naomi and Paul would react if they knew. An ache pinched his chest at the realization that if Anna did win the contest, the month of August would bring huge challenges. Not only for her, but for her family. For the entire church.

  So much is at stake because of one contest. Surely God has a role for me. Is it to make sure she stays?

  * * *

  Later that evening, steam rose from two pressure cookers in Anna’s kitchen. A permanent fog hovered above the stove top, and she couldn’t see past the window. She stepped back a moment to enjoy the air from the battery fan behind her, bending so it hit her face. A small sigh of satisfaction escaped her throat as she enjoyed the light breeze. Satisfaction for what she was doing. As she listened to the water boil, she considered her own special process of canning. Out of all of the chores she accomplished on the farm, this was her very favorite.

  Daed had planted two extra rows of the red tomatoes just for Anna. Continuing to enjoy the fan’s caress, she smiled a little while contemplating the delicious soup and chili she’d make with them during the winter months.

  While the thin fan blades whistled, she arched her brow. She’d canned so many years, she knew what tricks worked best. In fact, she had it down so every glass jar popped.

  First, she washed each tomato, cut out their stems, boiled them just enough to easily remove the skins, and placed the cored vegetables into the pressure cookers with water so that the pot was three quarters full.

  Next, she utilized a large metal colander to drain them while the juice dripped into a large white container. After that, she ran a clean, hot dish cloth over the rims of the glass quart containers, stuck them in neat rows inside a baking pan, and added an inch of boiling hot water, which she kept on the two free burners.

  As soon as the juice-filled quarts were boiling hot, she ran a clean towel over the rims and carefully added a metal lid to each. One by one, she transferred each filled jar to the corner of the kitchen and waited for the lids to pop.

  She stood, made her way back to the countertop that was cluttered with lids and cloths, and proceeded with her task. As she did so, this evening’s dinner conversation floated in and out of her thoughts.

  In the background, lids popped to an uneven beat. Each time one sounded, she recorded it on a pad of paper. Maemm stepped into the room and laid an affectionate hand on Anna’s shoulder. “I love you, Anna.”

  Anna took a moment to face the kind, loving woman who’d so unselfishly taken her in years ago. “Love you, too, Maemm.” For a moment, Anna wasn’t sure what else to say.

  Of course she knew her mother loved her; it was something she’d never doubted. At the same time, Anna wasn’t used to hearing those precious words. Her heart warmed, and she put down the tomato she was holding and hugged her mother tightly.

  “Denki.”

  For long moments, Anna relished the rush of warmth that penetrated her body. A happy, satisfied shiver swept up Anna’s arms and settled comfortably in her shoulders. “Maemm, you don’t know how much I needed to hear that.”

  Her mother held her at arm’s length and locked gazes with her. Anna was quick to note the expression of surprise that flickered in her eyes.

  “You surely don’t doubt it, do you?”

  Anna answered with a soft “No.” She continued staring at her mother in a desperate need to talk. As if reading her mind, Maemm motioned to the table, and Anna gave the stove a quick check before lifting her chin with newfound confidence. “I’m at a good spot to take a break.”

  In the dining room, she sat opposite her maemm, who leaned forward to gently take her fingers and give them an affectionate squeeze.

  Anna swallowed the emotional knot in her throat, which had become uncomfortable.

  “Honey, sometimes we Amish work so hard . . . and such long hours . . .” She closed her eyes while a sigh escaped her. “I’m afraid we forget to share our love with those who mean the most to us.”

  Anna looked down at her sturdy black shoes while she considered the statement, made with such honesty and sincerity.

  Naomi drew in a sigh before folding her arms over her lap. Several heartbeats later, she said, “Anna, your daed and I have been busier than we’d like.” She raised a dismissive hand and softened her voice. “I certainly don’t mean to sound ungrateful. I’d never do that when God has blessed us with all this.” With a warm smile, she extended her arms and motioned. “There’s so much to be grateful for. But don’t doubt that even though we don’t spend much time with you, we don’t love you any less.”

  Anna met her gaze while the softly said words warmed her heart. Anna leaned forward and pressed her palms against her thighs.

  “I’ve got a lot on my mind. And I’ve never told you this, but I’m so appreciative that you and Daed took me in. I can’t imagine being in a more loving family.”

  The sound of juice coming to a boil reminded Anna of her task. She jumped up to remove the tall cooker from the burner. But her mother’s words would forever stay in Anna’s heart. She ached to talk to her mother about the contest. She frowned because she couldn’t.

  As she rescued the juice before it boiled over the top of the cooker, steam filled the area in front of her. But Anna was more focused on her mother’s admission than the empty quart jars waiting to be filled. Because the timing of her admission couldn’t have been better.

  * * *

  The following noon, the mid-August sun caressed Anna’s neck as she sat on the ground near Pebble Creek and lifted a scrutinizing brow at the work on her easel. As she tried to hone the facial features of the Amish woman, she recalled her maemm’s unexpected revelation and smiled a little. Hearing that much-needed reassurance had prompted Anna’s chin to lift with just enough confidence to capture a certain glow in the woman’s cheeks.

  To Anna’s pleasant surprise, that very glow sparked a new connection with the woman on the paper. Anna pressed her lips together, yearning to imagine what was inside the Englisch Anna on the sketch pad.

  There were many things, artistically, that Anna could do to reveal what went on inside that person’s heart and mind. Usually, these pencil strokes came naturally to her. But this particular project was proving to be her greatest challenge. In order to know what was inside this particular person, it was necessary for Anna to find out who she was, personall
y, if she had been raised outside the Amish faith. And she wasn’t sure that was possible.

  As much as she tried, she could only create what she knew on the paper. And because of the circumstances of her birth, there was a lot Anna hadn’t learned about herself.

  I long to be more. But I only know half of me. I’m fully aware of the woman Anna King. But that’s because of the way I’ve been raised. But if my birth mamma had raised me, I would surely look at the world with a different pair of eyes. Because I would have had a different upbringing. Other circumstances. So how can I ever know the other woman in the picture without having walked in her shoes?

  What do I feel? Who am I, really, and what do I stand for? Part of me is Amish. At the same time, my other half ’s a mystery. If my birth mamma had raised me, would I even believe in God? What would I want out of life if my last name had been Rodriguez or Garcia instead of King?

  As she tried to read more into her sketched woman, the sound of light footsteps made Anna turn. Jesse smiled a little and lifted his hand in greeting. In front of him, he held a brown paper bag. “Is it okay if I join you?” he asked as he made himself comfortable on the ground.

  She was quick to nod. She looked up at him and smiled. “Jah. I’m glad you’re here.” She acknowledged how much she had to do and how little time there was to accomplish it. Still, she savored every moment she had with Jesse.

  “Any word on the farm?”

  “Not yet. We’re still waiting for it to go up for sale.”

  As she took in his appearance, she acknowledged that the Anna on paper wasn’t the only person she wanted to know. She yearned to learn more about Jesse, too. Since he’d become a part of her life, she’d come to realize just how very special he was. And she cherished his advice. Even though he was steadfast in his goals, uncertainty loomed in front of him, too.

  When the bright sunlight landed on his irises, his eyes took on a different color. Perplexed by the beauty of those soft blue hues, she continued to study him with interest. For some reason, she couldn’t look away.

  And neither did he. As their gazes locked, his facial muscles relaxed. So did his shoulders. And, amazingly, his visage provided her a certain reassurance she’d never experienced before. She took a small breath and let it out.

  He finally smiled a little and offered a satisfied nod. “I’m glad to be with you, too.”

  With one swift motion, she took her pad with both hands and turned it so he could view her work. “What do you think?”

  As he observed the sketch, she continued to regard him, noting every detail about him, from the tiny creases that outlined his eyes to the way he tilted his head and narrowed his dark brows.

  She leaned forward to turn her sketch pad so he could better glimpse it. A long silence ensued while she watched him. Finally, when he didn’t say anything, her pulse picked up to a nervous speed, and she sat up a little straighter.

  It was at that point that she acknowledged how very important his opinion was. When she lowered the pitch of her voice, her words barely made it out of her mouth. “Jesse?”

  As he continued eyeing the paper in front of him, she went on. “The contest requires a theme, and to sketch a picture that depicts that theme.”

  Finally, he looked at her, and the corners of his lips lifted into an approving smile. He nodded. “I’m no expert at this and I won’t pretend to be, but if you want my honest opinion?”

  She offered a quick, eager nod.

  “The one woman is definitely Amish.” He paused and narrowed his brows. “And the Englisch . . .” He shrugged. “I don’t want to discourage you, but there’s really nothing that makes her different from the Amish girl.”

  His comment stopped her. As she contemplated his honesty, she finally admitted that she agreed. “One more question.”

  Before giving him a chance to respond, she went on. “When you look at this . . .” She waved her right hand to the sketch. “Can you guess the theme?”

  He leaned closer and furrowed his brows. As he did so, the sun slipped underneath a cloud, and Anna enjoyed the light, comforting breeze that caressed the back of her neck. When the sun reappeared, she blinked to adjust to the sudden bright light.

  Finally, Jesse softened the pitch of his voice. “It’s just a guess, but I’d say you’re trying to depict Amish life versus English? And the conflict is inside the woman?”

  The corners of Anna’s lips lifted into a huge grin. “Jah.” A new excitement floated through her chest. “I’m relieved that at least that part’s obvious.”

  The expression on his visage turned serious. So did the pitch of his voice as he lowered it. “The woman is you, Anna. And this is your conflict, isn’t it?”

  His words hit her with such a ferocity, she stayed very still while she considered what he’d said. She swallowed an uncomfortable knot in her throat. When she realized he awaited confirmation, she offered a small nod.

  “Jah. This picture . . .” She nodded to the pencil drawing. “It’s much more than a contest entry.” She paused. “It’s me. In real life, it’s me, trying to find myself.” Finally, emotion took her over, and her voice shook. “Jesse, I’m torn. Because I’m sure that if my birth mother had raised me, I wouldn’t be who I am today.”

  When he didn’t respond, she went on. “I want to be who God intended me to be.” She gave a gentle shrug of her shoulders, and her voice softened. “But how can I if I don’t know her?”

  Offering the picture another glance, he got comfortable on the ground next to her and pulled a sandwich from his paper bag. As he removed the cellophane wrapping, he looked at her. “Would you like half?”

  She lifted a hand. “No, thanks, but that’s sweet of you to offer.”

  She changed the subject. “Jesse, I’m getting anxious about this contest, but what I’m afraid of even more is word getting out that I’m entering it. The last thing I want is for talk to start that I’m leaving our tightly knit community. Or my eltern suffering because of me.”

  He put his right hand over his heart and straightened his broad shoulders. “Like I said, Anna, my word’s gut. I’m a secret keeper.” An amused grin curved the corners of his lips. “Remember . . .” He gave a lazy smile.

  “What?”

  He lowered his lashes and his voice. “I never told on you in school. When you were drawing during math.”

  The statement prompted her to laugh. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if I couldn’t have drawn during that class. It was hard to focus when all I wanted to do was to sketch.”

  He lifted a challenging brow. “You really don’t like math, do you?”

  She shook her head. “Jesse, how will math benefit me?”

  Before he could respond, she continued. “I understand why I need to know how to add, subtract, and multiply. I mean, when you go to the grocery store that comes in handy. But as far as the more complicated stuff . . .” She shrugged and leaned back to rest on her palms. “Unless I’m going to be an engineer, I don’t think it will help.” She pressed her lips together. “It would be much more beneficial for students to focus on English.”

  When he raised a skeptical brow, she went on, her tone taking on a more enthusiastic pitch. “Just think, Jesse. The English language is how you express your thoughts. If you’re articulate, people will obviously better understand where you’re coming from.”

  He looked at her to continue.

  “When you interview for a job, you’ve got to convey why they should hire you.”

  “I see the point.” He swallowed. A strange, unexplainable expression crossed his face before he looked down and pulled a bag of potato chips from his brown sack. She could hear them crunch in his mouth. “I want you to win, Anna.”

  “You do?”

  He nodded. “But more importantly?”

  She looked at him before locking gazes with the Amish woman on the paper.

  “I will pray for you to learn who you really are. And I’ll be completely honest . . .” He swal
lowed an emotional knot. “I hope that, in the end, it will be the Amish woman.”

  She watched him drink from his water bottle.

  “I think you’re making this harder than it needs to be.”

  She shrugged. “If it were easy, I would know.”

  He shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

  “You’ve never had to deal with anything like this, have you?”

  He was quick to respond with a certain shake of his head. “From a young age, I learned to appreciate the life I have.” He smiled a little. “All I need to add, really, is a wife, a family, and a farm.”

  As she watched Jesse wad the cellophane into a ball and return it to the paper bag, she absorbed what he’d just told her. To Anna, his wants seemed so simple.

  He raised a challenging brow. “Sounds easy, doesn’t it?”

  Her lips parted while she considered his unexpected question. She didn’t intend to undermine the difficulty of achieving his life’s goals; that was the last thing she wanted. At the same time, she was fully aware that he expected an honest response from her.

  “It does.”

  “But is it really?”

  She locked gazes with him, noticing the curious lines that edged his eyes.

  “When you think about it, finding the spouse that God created just for you isn’t easy.” He hesitated while swatting away a fly. “And having a family?” He shrugged. “Again, that’s all dependent on God. When you think about it, He creates the embryo. And develops it as it grows. When you get right down to it, a woman can do everything in her power to make a baby. Yet the health of the child and everything else are all up to Him.”

  She pressed her lips together thoughtfully and contemplated his words.

  “And then . . .” he went on with a wave of his hand, “buying a farm. Nowadays, it’s almost impossible.”

  She considered his statement before finally offering a nod of agreement. “Jah. Because none’s for sale. Land usually stays in the family. But soon, you’re going to be the new owner of the Norris farm.”