Annie's Recipe Read online

  Annie’s heart warmed as she considered the unique situation. Rebecca picked him fresh wildflowers in the spring and summer. Annie kept him well-fed with delicious sponge cakes. And Rachel, the youngest, listened for hours while he recounted horse-and-buggy stories.

  She was fully aware how unusual it was for an Amish man to have such a close connection with three young girls. Under different circumstances, it might not have been acceptable. Yet the relationships were a blessing. Sam was an exception. Everyone loved him and wanted to befriend the hope chest maker, and fortunately, in this case, the community didn’t object to his closeness with them.

  Annie wondered what Sam would say if he knew what she was feeling for Levi. She stopped and tapped her bare foot against the shiny hardwood floor. What were her sentiments exactly? And why couldn’t she rid Levi from her mind?

  Because he’s in town. And because I can’t wait to hear what he’s been up to the past decade.

  Automatically, she opened the lid and reached inside for her journal and pen. A sigh of immediate relief escaped her. Blank lined pages were her way to figure things out. For some reason, when she penned her thoughts, logical answers came to her. And right now she needed to think through her reunion with her childhood friend and the many emotions that sparked.

  She got comfortable on the floor and rested against the fragrant pine bedframe. Touching the soft cotton quilt Mamma had made with so much love and patience, she crossed her legs and began to write, starting with the date.

  Today was wonderful. Jeremiah and Katie were married.

  She paused to consider the chaos and smiled a little.

  It sounds simple. But there were so many details that went into the day. Tons of work. I guess I could start with the husband and wife. Katie looked beautiful in her homemade sky-blue dress and shiny black high-top shoes.

  And Jeremiah was handsome in his black vest and bow tie. To my surprise, neither appeared nervous. On the contrary, the expressions on their faces were of pure joy and excitement. In fact, Katie’s cheeks glowed. As I watched them, I couldn’t help but wonder what I would feel like in her place. With my husband-to-be.

  An uncertain sigh escaped her throat as she stretched her bare toes. She hesitated before continuing.

  I wish I could imagine myself in her shoes.

  Annie squeezed her eyes closed and struggled to picture herself as a bride. Finally, she rolled her eyes in frustration and giggled in defeat.

  Even my keen imagination won’t allow me to go there.

  She tapped the tip of her pen nervously against the paper before continuing.

  Maybe it’s because I’m afraid. Perhaps the reason is because it’s impossible for me to envision the face of the man next to me.

  Suddenly, an uncomfortable ache in the pit of her stomach prompted her to change her thoughts. And that was easy; the day had encompassed a vast array of events.

  The food was wonderful. That’s where we Amish women excel. As I took in all the casseroles, I was sure I would need an extra plate. Of course I wasn’t surprised at the number of edibles. Amish weddings are certainly known for their abundance of homemade dishes. But today must have been the largest selection I’ve ever seen. And I’ve attended a lot of weddings. I enjoyed everything from baked chicken and mashed potatoes and gravy to corn casserole and yummy dumplings. The dumplings were the best. Of course I’m not surprised. Rebecca Conrad’s mamma made them. She even sells them. I also indulged in an extra piece of pecan pie.

  Annie shifted her hips to a more comfortable position and licked her lips.

  Mamma doesn’t like pecans, so I have to take advantage of the delicious desserts when the opportunity presents itself. Mamma’s a great cook; I’m not complaining. But no one in the world is 100 percent perfect.

  The day was bright and sunny. Kids played tag outside of the tent. The queue of buggies lined up must have been a mile long. And two refrigeration trucks were parked alongside them.

  Before the wedding, word had it that there might not be enough plates and silverware. Even with the family members pitching in. That Katie’s mamma used every resource she had to round up more dishes and utensils. She must have come through because no one went without.

  Even though so many blessings were right in front of my eyes, there was one that stood out.

  Her heart skipped a beat as she paused.

  Something wonderful and unexpected happened. Levi Miller came to the wedding. Meeting up with him was the best gift anyone could have given me.

  She rested her hands on her lap and looked ahead, remembering the warmth and tenderness in his eyes as their gazes had locked. Recalling vividly the genuine emotion in his voice when he’d told her he’d missed her. She smiled a little.

  I can’t believe a decade has passed since he lived here. I recall with great joy our strong friendship and the fun we shared. At our young age, people always commented on how unusual our deep bond was. Most of the other girls thought the boys were silly. And the boys considered the girls ridiculous. But my friendship with Levi was different. And rare.

  She frowned.

  I respect my faith with all my heart but wish our differences didn’t build a wall between Levi and me. But I didn’t decide on the Ordnung. And I certainly can’t change the rules.

  She stretched her legs and lowered her head against the covering. As soon as she pushed out a deep sigh, her thoughts returned to Levi.

  I realize how much I’ve missed him. If only we could forget what happened to his father and pick up where we left off. Oh, why do we have to be on different teams?

  She shrugged her shoulders to rid the knot making its way down her arm. A team. Was that what faith was? Was each religion a different club? Didn’t God want His followers to be on the same one? And did it matter if they weren’t? As long as they all believed?

  She giggled as an analogy came to mind and grinned as she wrote.

  Each church is like a delicious two-layered chocolate cake. Each cook puts the ingredients together differently. Yet the results look and taste pretty much the same.

  She considered differences in faith and raised an inquisitive brow. Early on, her sister and cousins had grown up with their to-be spouses. Their marriage partners had been no surprise.

  When I was young, Levi and I shared our hopes and dreams with each other. Talked about what we wanted to do when we grew up. Planned a trip to Six Flags once we were in Rumspringa. One evening, when we were walking home from the singing, Levi even mentioned getting married when we got older. While other kids our age usually weren’t close to members of the opposite sex, the bond between Levi and me grew stronger whenever we spent time together. And it all started with Pebble Creek.

  Thinking of the place prompted a sigh of contentment.

  The first time we met at the beautiful place was accidental. It was that day when we each confessed our dream to live there. It’s funny that it connected us in a way I never dreamed was possible. After that, we met there whenever we could.

  We were kids. The world was simple. I always thought of him as my protector. With Levi, I never feared anything. Our friendship was all I needed to be happy. Things have changed.

  The excited speed of her pulse slowed as her glass half-full attitude kicked in. She made a silent vow to stay positive. She knew the world didn’t always present perfect situations.

  She considered Levi’s broad shoulders and long legs. Black polished shoes. Confident walk. The way he lifted his chin.

  The way he carries himself shouts to the world that he’s still Levi Miller and that he can handle anything that comes his way. No problem was ever too large for him.

  In all my eighteen years, I’ve yearned to talk to him as I used to. I’ve dreamed of taking long walks together. I can’t wait for the chance. Even though Levi has come back to Arthur, I feel as if I’m the one who has come home.

  It was hard to believe it was the first week of October. Levi changed into sweats after saying good night to Au
nt Abigail, Uncle Marlin, and his younger cousins. He looked around the small bedroom and sighed with satisfaction. The wedding was over. Relief swept through his chest as he considered the long eventful day he had nearly passed on. He was glad he hadn’t.

  The simple invitation hadn’t really surprised him. After all, he was family. But when Levi had pondered whether to come, to his astonishment, it had been his dad who had convinced him to do it. “I think it would be good for you, son. Who knows? This might bring you closure.”

  Levi’s parents had also received invitations; they’d even discussed whether to attend. But in the end they hadn’t been at ease returning, sitting at a different table from family. It wasn’t uncommon for shunned people to pass.

  Levi frowned. He wished for family unity, but that ship had sailed. Because the very people he’d been raised to love and respect had shunned his father.

  He supposed there were worse things. Besides, a huge goal had been accomplished today: closure. Wasn’t that really the reason he’d come? Levi recalled his agonizing drive from Morton to Arthur. He closed his eyes for a moment and wrung his fingers together in front of him. When he opened his lids, a sigh escaped him.

  It had taken everything he had to return to the very place that had changed the course of his father’s life. His entire family’s life. To Levi’s satisfaction, today had provided a most-needed relief. Finality.

  He hadn’t been sure of what to expect, but to his surprise, Levi had been treated as if nothing had happened. He had even been seated with his cousins, not at a table by himself. Of course he wasn’t the one who’d been shunned. He couldn’t be. He’d never joined the Amish church in the first place.

  Still, he’d returned to his old world feeling like an outsider. And just because the shunning hadn’t been mentioned didn’t mean it hadn’t occurred.

  Levi hadn’t neglected to notice that no one had inquired about his dad. Or his mom. But what can I do about it? I have to accept what happened. To forgive and move on. Today I did that, didn’t I?

  On a positive note, he had enjoyed meeting up with old friends. Some he had barely recognized. The past ten years had added height and weight and other surprising features to those with whom he’d shared his childhood. Even the young married men sported beards.

  The recollection of his childhood friend, William Conrad, brought a smile to his face. He was the same as always yet different. Two years his senior, William had baled hay with him.

  As they had spoken after dinner, William had told Levi about helping his ailing father, Daniel, who had also been shunned. Levi had been surprised to hear that William had even considered leaving the faith.

  It had been his new wife, Rebecca, who had been the deciding factor in staying. The recent conversation stuck in Levi’s mind. Though he and William hadn’t talked about Levi’s dad, Levi felt a strong bond with him because he had also experienced what shunning did.

  If some day Levi chose to talk to anyone about the past, he was certain William would understand. But all through the day, despite friendly chatter, someone had pulled at his heart stronger than anyone else.

  He cupped his hand with his chin and thought of Annie. He couldn’t wait to catch up with her.

  He knew how strict the Amish were about staying true to their beliefs. He wasn’t a threat; still, people talked. And if they saw Annie with him alone, they would immediately worry about her deserting the only life she knew. Especially at such an impressionable age. If he wasn’t careful, he could easily stir up a lot of gossip. Because of that realization, he would have to make his time with her brief.

  Chapter Two

  The following morning, the warm bright sun hovered between two large puffy clouds, reminding Annie of large, soft marshmallows.

  Garments on Mamma’s clothesline floated up and down as a gentle breeze pushed them. A chicken darted beneath a long-sleeved shirt and drifted toward Old Sam’s barn. A redheaded rooster followed. Annie would never forget the time the mean old bird had chased her, pecking at her bare heels.

  Annie thought of her beloved mentor. As she focused on his deep red barn in the distance, she pictured him with his faithful Irish setter, Buddy, at his side while he carefully dreamed up beautiful hope chests. But Sam’s weren’t ordinary designs; each was custom-made for the person who ordered it.

  He was a talented artist. Something unique about his work made his art come alive. She had never seen anything like it.

  Others had tried to do what Sam did, but no one, so far, had succeeded. The chests were his specialty; he had inherited his trade from his father and granddad. In fact, Sam was well-known throughout the United States for his ability to craft unique art into beautiful walnut, oak, and cherry lids.

  The chest he’d built for Annie was a precious reminder of their longtime friendship. And her love and respect for him had grown after the death of his wife. Annie had watched his weight drop and his smile lines disappear. Thank goodness he was okay now. And she looked up to Sam as if he were family.

  When they talked, decades of age difference didn’t matter. She did most of the chatting, but Sam spoke, too. He related childhood stories. He loved reminiscing about the horses that had driven his buggy over the years. About the coldest winter he’d ever known. About Esther’s butterscotch pie. He’d lost her to pneumonia.

  He’d put his most creative thoughts to work as he’d etched an image of the words of a simple sponge cake recipe into oak that had come from his family’s lumber mill.

  Since Esther had passed some years ago, Old Sam had produced more custom-made hope chests than anyone else in all the Amish communities combined. These works of art were passed down from generation to generation. Customers from all over ordered from him.

  Annie walked through the open barn door as she always did. “Old Sam! It’s Annie!”

  She bounded inside at the same time Sam waved a welcoming hand, proudly displaying her platter of sponge cakes for him to admire.

  Sam grinned and stepped toward her to retrieve the platter. As she handed it to him, Annie smiled. Sam plucked one, took a bite of the small cake, and nodded his satisfaction. She made sure Sam never went hungry. And, in return, as long as she had him, she could confide whatever was on her mind. Today she needed to talk to him about something. Someone, actually: Levi Miller.

  * * *

  Later that day, Levi stood before the vacant fifteen-acre plot of land he had always loved. Pebble Creek was in between Annie’s house and Old Sam’s place.

  To his chagrin, he couldn’t rid Annie from his mind. Ten years ago circumstances beyond his control had torn them apart. But right now he was focused on moving forward. A gentle smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he pictured an imaginary self-built, two-story house.

  He could almost see shiny hardwood floorboards with glossy polish and could nearly hear dry wood crackle in the fireplace. Beautiful hand-picked stones he had selected himself hovered artistically above it.

  He stepped slowly to avoid the uneven earth and made his way to the creek that divided this lot and Annie’s. When he stopped, his thoughts settled on his childhood best friend.

  His heart skipped an excited beat. Her cheeks still turned red whenever she was embarrassed. He was sure she still spoke her mind. Absently, he wondered how she got along with other shy Amish girls.

  That question prompted him to walk on. To his side, water cascaded over a small fall and into the main creek that wound its way through the hill. Central Illinois was completely flat. Except for this lot. The unusual landscape made it even more special and rare.

  The place was magical. But the most memorable part of the day wouldn’t be the land. It would be the person he would meet. He looked off in the distance. Of course she’d always run late. His lips curved in amusement. Where was she?

  * * *

  Annie took quick steps from the barn to the house. Inside, she hung her wool coat on her hook. As she washed her hands, her mother was making buttermilk cheese.
r />   Annie licked her lips. “I love your cheese more than anything in the world, Mamma. Everyone buys it these days. I’m so glad you still make it.”

  Annie stepped closer to look over her shoulder.

  Her mother darted her a quick glance while she continued mixing cultured buttermilk into the pot. Mamma gave a slow swirl to the contents; from experience, Annie knew you had to be careful not to overstir. She noted new concern lines under her mother’s eyes.

  “Annie?”

  Annie came back to reality. “Sorry, Mamma.”

  She faced a dubious expression. “You’ve got your mind on something.” Her mother faced her. “It wouldn’t be that Miller boy, would it?”

  Annie pretended a sudden interest in cleaning the sink, running her cotton towel over the stainless steel. “Why would you think that, Mamma?”

  “Ever since yesterday, you’ve been acting like you’re off in some other world.” She lifted her palms to the sky. “You even forgot to close the door when you stepped outside. You know he lives different from us, Annie.”

  Her mother’s statement had come out in a lowered, serious tone.

  “I know, Mamma. But I still like him. Always did.”

  Suddenly, an uneasy feeling filled Annie’s gut. She held the colander while Mamma carefully poured curds into it. Annie’s favorite part of the process was hanging the curds to dry.