The Memory Jar (2 page)

Sarah turned to Michael. This was the chance she’d been waiting for.

As the canoe continued farther out into deep water, the passengers’ voices carried back to shore. Even from this distance, Patty’s laughter was clear.

Patty’s dog, Monty, trotted along the shore, whining for his master.

“Come here, boy.” Sarah snapped her fingers. The dog curled up next to Sarah, but his eyes stayed fixed on the canoe.

“Do you mind if I sit closer?” Michael asked.

Sarah patted the quilt beside her. He sat down near enough to show Sarah he was interested, but far enough to be proper.

“So I hear your
dat
’s finished with yer family’s new house.”

“Yes,
Dat
finished the porch today.” She chuckled. “It’ll be better than staying in the old camper. It’s been mighty tight. Tonight’s the big night. We’ll be sleeping within real walls again.”

The speedboat zipped by and the occupants waved. One of them yelled something. Sarah thought she heard the word
bonnet
but couldn’t be sure.

Sarah lifted her hand and waved back. As summer warmed the Montana air and more tourists arrived, the peculiar Amish
became as much of an attraction as the lakes, mountains, hiking trails, and bears.

Michael shook his head at the passing boat, and then turned his attention back to her. “So I heard you got a job at the West Kootenai store. I heard yer cookies —”

A scream filled the air. The speedboat had turned and now bore down on the canoe. Sarah’s mouth opened to call a warning, but no words emerged. The sky faded to gray. She couldn’t move, couldn’t speak.

Michael rose and sprinted to the water. “Stop!” He waved his hands at the speedboat. “Stop!”

It was too late. With frightening speed, the boat caught the end of the canoe. The canoe flipped and tumbled like a dry leaf on the wind.

Michael rushed into the water up to his knees. He turned back to her. “I can’t swim.” Panic twisted his face. “Patty cannot swim either.”

Her friend … her brother … Jeb. Sarah clenched her hands. “Dear God, please let them be all right. Please.”

“Patty!” Michael called. “Patty!”

Sarah moved to Michael’s side, clutching his hand. The canoe righted and two heads bobbed up — hatless now. Breath escaped Sarah’s lungs.
Jonathan
. Her brother was all right.

Jebadiah swam around the canoe, searching the water. Patty was nowhere to be seen.

The speedboat circled back. Cries of panic carried over the water. Life jackets were thrown into the lake. Two men jumped in. Minutes passed, but still no Patty.

“Go!” Michael turned to her. “Run to the …” His words fumbled. “There’s a house close. Call fer help. Send someone fer my
dat
.”

A cry escaped Sarah’s lips. She slipped on her shoes without
taking time to tie them, then ran. Her legs felt as solid and heavy as the pine trees around her. She hurried up the hill. Her heart pounded. Her lungs ached. She looked back. Michael had sunk to his knees in the gravel. There was still no sign of Patty in the water.

Sarah knew she should pray more, pray harder, but only one prayer scrolled through her mind.

The words of the Lord’s Prayer mixed
Englisch
and Pennsylvania Dutch in her mind.

It seemed like an eternity until Sarah reached the closest house. She pounded on the door until it opened. An older Amish man stood there, eyes wide.
“Ja?”

“We need help,” she panted. “An accident! At the lake.”

“Come.” He motioned to her. “My neighbor down the road, he has a phone.”

The man hitched up his horse. Sarah climbed into the buggy, her body trembling like an aspen leaf in the wind.

How much time had passed? Too much.

Something weighed her pocket. She reached inside, pulling out the rock.

A cloud moved in front of the sun, and a sinking feeling weighed in Sarah’s gut. “It’s too late. We lost Patty. My friend is gone.”

Only a miracle of Christ could save Patty now. Sarah’s thumb followed the etching. All hope slipped from her heart.

Dear Lord, what now?

Two years later

W
ith one motion, Sarah Shelter pulled her apron over her head. The garment smelled of fresh-baked bread, ham, and onions from the French onion soup she’d put on to simmer before leaving the West Kootenai Kraft and Grocery. Her
Englisch
friend told her once that the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach. If that were the case, Sarah should have been married off years ago. She’d cooked for plenty of Amish bachelors, every year befriending the thirty or so men who came to Montana for a season. Problem was, their eyes were more on the wild game that filled the hills than on finding a wife. Typically, girls waiting back home had already captured their hearts. The bachelors appreciated Sarah all right — to fill their stomachs until their western adventure came to an end and they returned to their farms, their families, and their waiting brides.

Tossing the apron into a wicker basket filled with tomorrow’s wash, Sarah moved to her bedroom window and opened it. Warm, afternoon air that smelled of sunshine and pine
wafted in. She paused, staring up at the trees and the green pasture beyond, but mostly at the large mountain that rose in the distance. Eve Peachy had come into the store earlier to tell Sarah they’d been invited to hike Robinson Mountain. Sarah had laughed, thinking it was a joke, until Eve announced it was a bachelor who’d planned the outing.

“Amos is planning it yet,” Eve had mentioned with a twinkle of her eye. Though not the most handsome bachelor, Amos had an outgoing, playful side. Eve knew if anyone could get Sarah to put on hiking boots to climb a mountain, it would be Amos.

Sarah placed a hand over her heart — which danced a double beat at the mere mention of Amos’s name — and smiled. She supposed it was time to hike the mountain. Her older brothers had both hiked it, even her father and mother had. Spring had brought plenty of sunshine and had already cleared the snow from the mountain trails. She had no excuse really. And maybe … maybe she’d even get a chance to get to know Amos a bit better.

She removed her
kapp
, placing it on her bed. She’d bathe early and spend the evening quilting on the porch. She never liked the sticky feeling that spending all morning baking at the store brought about. More than that, if one of the bachelors happened to stop for a visit, she’d look proper.

Sarah moved to her dresser and stopped short. Two large jars — previously used for pickles — sat there, filled with all types of curious things. Pretty rocks, old pennies, a rusty nail, and a hand-carved whistle, each with a memory attached. But the third jar … she rested a hand on her hip. Its contents had been spilled out and the jar itself was gone. She picked up the white rock that had been dumped with the other items and fingered it. Then she set it back down.

She balled her fist. A rush of anger tightened her shoulders. How could someone treat her things so carelessly?

Stomping out her bedroom door through the living room, Sarah let out a shout. “Andy!”

Hearing his name, her twelve-year-old brother rose from where he’d been sitting on the front porch and darted into the woods. Through the open front door, Sarah spotted what she’d been looking for. Her jar. It sat there covered with what looked like tin foil and …

Sarah stepped forward. A snake was inside! Her brother had dumped out her things to keep an ugly ole brown garter snake?

She picked up the jar, crumpled the foil, and slipped her hand inside the jar.

“Well, I’ll be.” The man’s voice caused Sarah to start, and she nearly dropped the jar.

There, striding up the wooded path leading from the road, was Amos Byler with another of the bachelors by his side.

Sarah looked at the jar in her hand and, with a quick grip of her fingers and a flip of her wrist, tossed the snake into the yard. It bounced slightly and then slithered away into the tall grass.

The two men stood staring. Amos ran a hand down his smooth face.

Then she remembered.
My
kapp. Sarah placed a hand on top of her head. The silkiness of her blonde hair felt foreign. Since a small girl, she’d worn a
kapp
by day and a sleeping kerchief at night.

“I was ‘bout to change,” she explained. “And then I noticed my memory jar was missing.”

Amos cocked an eyebrow as he nodded. A hint of a smile spread on the other man’s face.

“My
dat
’s not here, if that’s who yer looking for, and I best get inside.” She clutched the glass jar to her chest and hurried to the front door. The wooden planks of the porch squeaked under her feet, and a blue jay twittered from the top of the porch railing, as if chiding Sarah for her improper presentation.

“Before you go!” Amos called.

She paused and turned, heat rising to her cheeks.

“We didn’t come fer yer
dat
. We came to see you, Sarah. We’re hiking up Robinson Mountain next Saturday — all the way to the top. Care to come?”

“
Ja
, sounds fun,” she called over her shoulder, and hurried inside, her knees trembling. She rushed to her room. Good thing no one else was around to witness that. She hoped no one would find out, especially
Mem
. Sarah’s mother spoke quietly, but her words had impact. Sarah grabbed up her clean clothes and hurried into the indoor bathroom.

Would Amos tell?

She had a feeling he wouldn’t. He seemed too kindly for that. But that other man. What was his name? Jathan. Yes, that was it. He stood at least six inches taller than Amos and his shoulders appeared twice as wide. He’d been smiling, and his eyes twinkled as if he enjoyed seeing her embarrassment.

As she unpinned her sleeve, Sarah decided right then she didn’t like Jathan one bit …

The cabin wasn’t much more than four bunks, but it had enough room in one corner for a small kitchen with a wood-burning cookstove and a handmade table with two chairs. Jathan Schrock had straightened it up some when he first
arrived. His guess was that the guys who’d most recently stayed there hadn’t tidied up much. Nor the group of guys before that.

He supposed the accommodations weren’t what beckoned most bachelors to the West Kootenai. It was the promise of high mountains, endless forests, and abundant game that called to the outdoorsmen.

“A haven for single Amish men.”
Mem
had read about the bachelors’ cabins in
The Budget
. Sawmill and carpenter jobs were aplenty in the West Kootenai. Wouldn’t Jathan like to go to try his hand at hunting too?

Jathan was excited to come face to face with elk, mule deer, and moose. But he also wanted time to get away and think about his future. He’d snuck two books on running a small business into his suitcase and had been reading them late into the night. Someday, he wanted his own retail shop — he liked that idea much more than working at a mill or factory. He liked people too — finding out about their lives, meeting their needs. Jathan had worked one summer in his uncle’s cheese factory as a salesman, and he’d been hooked. The idea of offering people something they valued while also providing for a family appealed to him. He could see himself doing that rather than working in the garage-door factory like most of his friends did.

Being in Montana wasn’t just about what he came for — but what he ran from. He’d be in the door factory this very moment if he hadn’t spent his savings on a suitcase and a train ticket out west. And although finding a wife wasn’t one of his motives, he’d thought more about having one here than he ever had elsewhere.

Thought more about her — Sarah Shelter.

Yet she hadn’t paid him any mind, except to offer another cup of coffee at the West Kootenai store. She’d also scowled
his direction when she’d been caught this afternoon without a
kapp
. But that didn’t count as romance, right?

Jathan got the cookstove going. After being here two months and missing some of his favorite dishes, he’d decided to cook his own dinner tonight and had stopped by the store for supplies.

The food at the West Kootenai Kraft and Grocery was good, but his favorite part was watching Sarah work. He liked the open kitchen that was visible from the dining room. Liked her broad smile as she kneaded bread dough or whipped up batter for cakes. He especially liked the way she chatted with the customers as they entered.

He’d learned a lot about Sarah by her conversations with others. She had a married brother and three married sisters; one older brother, Jonathan, who wasn’t married yet; and younger siblings too. She liked baking more than cooking and liked cakes and cupcakes best of all.

What Jathan didn’t know was why there was always a hint of sadness in her eyes. Something pained her, and he wished he knew her well enough to ask what it was.

Sarah
.

The memory of her blonde hair glimmering in the sunlight as she stood on her front porch today caused his neck to grow warm. He chuckled under his breath, remembering how she’d picked up that snake and flicked it into the yard as if it were a twig. He couldn’t think of one woman he knew back in Ohio who’d do that.

Jathan opened the front door, letting in a cool breeze, and glanced down the walking path that led to the main road, and beyond that, Sarah’s place. Maybe he’d get a chance to talk to her before another two months passed.

His stomach growled, and he grabbed the paper sack he’d
brought home from the store. First out was a cooking pot. Jathan hadn’t been surprised that there wasn’t one to be found in the cupboards of the cabin. Instead of cooking pots, he’d found coils of rope, a knife sharpener, and bullets.