“Ne.” The word shot from Faith’s mouth. “I don’t want you to talk to them about it. Not yet anyway. Let’s at least figure out how much the cost is going to be. Grace doesn’t have a regular job, and both Hope and Lovina are getting married soon—right before Christmas. It’s a special time in their lives. I don’t want to take away their joy. We’ll have plenty of time to talk to them after their weddings. Besides, we don’t even know how much money is needed.”

  Joy nodded, but she wasn’t convinced. If her dat’s health was failing this much now, what would he be like in a few months? What if things got worse quickly? Would they regret not telling her sisters, getting more help?

  Then again, she could easily picture both sisters postponing their weddings to make sure Dat had what he needed. And he would hate that. It would hurt him to know he was a burden. Faith was right. They needed to know the cost first and then make a plan. She had saved up money from her job. She also had some quilts she could sell if it came to that. They’d somehow scrape it together—they just had to.

  “Ja, we’ll wait to tell them, but find out how much is needed as soon as you can. I can give you most of my next paycheck, and Lovina has asked me to make more aprons to sell at her shop. I’ve been meaning to do that.”

  Joy stepped forward and pulled her sister into an embrace. Faith’s shoulders felt tight and tense. How long had she been carrying this burden alone? Too long.

  “Please, don’t get worried,” Joy whispered in her sister’s ear. “I know how you tend to do that.” She offered a soft smile. “Have faith, Faith.”

  “Ja, I’ll try. It’s just…” Faith lowered her head and focused on her paint-splattered tennis shoes. “I just don’t know what we’re going to do around here without Dat.”

  Joy flashed a bright smile and hoped it made her look more confident than she felt. “Let’s not think of that. We’ll figure it out. God will provide. I know He will.”

  Eight

  When life gets too hard to stand, kneel.

  AMISH PROVERB

  Joy knew Mem was going to stop by Yoder’s Produce after the sewing frolic. Her plan was to find her, help with the groceries, and then ask about the medication cost. She not only needed to help Dat, she needed to help her sister Faith too. Faith tended to take on everyone else’s burdens as her own. The sooner Joy could find a way to help, the better for everyone.

  As she turned down Kaufman Avenue, she stopped short. The garage door was open at the Slagel house. Was Matthew home? Warmth filled her. She placed her right hand over her chest and noticed the quickening beat.

  The sound of a saw filled the air. She followed it into the open garage, and the scent of fresh-cut wood greeted her.

  Over the last few weeks, Matthew had been busy working on home construction around Pinecraft. A lot of building had been going on lately. Old houses were demolished and beautiful new ones were built in their place, but it appeared Matthew was working at home today. He concentrated on the wood and saw in his hands. She paused and waited until the saw blade stopped so she wouldn’t distract him.

  He glanced up as she neared and a smile filled his face. “Well, hello there.” A quiet stillness invaded the place where the saw’s buzzing had been a moment before.

  “I was just here not thirty minutes ago at the sewing frolic. You must have arrived just after I left. A change of pace today?”

  He ran a hand down his face, brushing off sawdust—or at least attempting to. “I do have some landscaping work to do later, but I gave one of my construction projects to Noah Yoder’s nephew Mose. He and his friends are saving up money to buy their own place, and I thought I’d help them out.”

  She wrinkled her nose as she smiled. “Ja, you say that, but I know you were just wanting to get back to your shop. Have you finished staining the recipe box for your mem’s birthday yet?”

  “Shh.” Matthew held a finger to his lips. He glanced to the door that led into the kitchen. “She might hear you.”

  Joy covered her mouth with her hand, and then laughter spilled out. She stepped forward. “I’m so sorry. I’m the worst about keeping secrets. I should let you know that now. I usually make homemade gifts for my family every Christmas, but none of them stay hidden long enough to get wrapped for Christmas Day. Mostly because I either can’t wait to share or I spill the beans before it’s time.”

  Matthew stepped around the saw, moving closer to her. “That’ll be gut to know for the future. I’ll have to resist telling you any secrets from now on.”

  She glanced to the shelf where the recipe box was hidden. “You know, I’ve been thinking,” she said only loud enough for him to hear. “I’ve been making aprons and dish towels for Me, Myself, and Pie, and they’ve been selling well. What do you think about making recipe boxes, and maybe even cookbook stands? I imagine they’d be popular with the tourists—taking a little bit of the Amish community home with them and all that. You do such a beautiful job.”

  Matthew’s eyes brightened. “Do you think people would really be interested?”

  “I do. But you might have to quit your construction work, because if they sell as well as my aprons and towels, you’ll have trouble keeping the recipe boxes in stock.”

  He got a queer look on his face, and it was hard to read his thoughts. He brushed his hands on his overalls, trying to brush away more sawdust, but it didn’t help. His pants were just as dirty as his hands. Then he reached for her hand, and she placed it in his, not caring they weren’t clean. His gaze kept steady on hers. Finally he tugged on her hand. “Come here,” he whispered. He pulled up two chairs, and they sat down.

  “Did I say something wrong? I’m sorry if you thought I wasn’t appreciating your construction work, because I do. I just know you like—”

  “Shh.” Matthew placed a finger near her lips. “You don’t need to worry. That’s not it at all, Joy, just the opposite. I’m not mad, but pleased. And you surprised me, that’s all.”

  She studied his eyes for a long moment, and he didn’t move so much as an eyelash. There was intimacy in his gaze. He wanted to tell her something and was building up the nerve to do so.

  He looked away, as if studying the pile of lumber stacked against the wall, and then looked back at her. “I’ve never told you this before, but I can’t picture myself doing construction my whole life.”

  She threaded a stray hair behind her ear and leaned forward, letting him know she was listening.

  “I want to have a farm, but my shop is my favorite place. I would love to do more woodworking and make small things others might enjoy, but I just thought it was a silly dream.”

  “It’s not silly at all.”

  “Yeah, well, my dat thinks it is.” Matthew paused before explaining. “He doesn’t understand why I’d give up a gut-paying job like construction to spend my days in a workshop with ne guaranteed income—especially if I’m thinking of supporting a wife soon.”

  Joy placed a hand over her heart. Matthew wasn’t the type to give her a flowery proposal, telling her why he wanted to spend his life with her, and she didn’t need that. It was romantic enough that he was pondering all these things and figuring out what made sense for a future with her.

  “I don’t have everything figured out yet.” Matthew shrugged. “And despite my dat’s opinion, I don’t think I have to know yet. Mostly, Joy, I’m not as concerned with what to do with my future as I am with who I want to spend it with.”

  “And?” Her breath balled up in her chest, and in her excitement it was as if she’d forgotten how to exhale.

  Matthew leaned forward, and Joy’s eyes fluttered closed. He placed the softest kiss on her lips. His lips were warm, and he smelled like the sawdust that dotted his clothes. Tingles moved through her lips and down her arms. She lifted her face and encountered his blue, blue eyes, a deep blue like the color of the Florida sky just after a storm. She immediately remembered the first time she saw him. It was their first Sunday in Pinecraft. She thought he was handsome then, but she’d never imagined her first kiss would be from him. And she never imagined the emotions running through her would be so intense.

  “And I know who that is,” he whispered, still only inches away from her lips. “I have ne doubt. You’re exactly the type of woman I’ve been searching for.”

  Joy saw the love she had hoped to see in a man’s eyes someday.

  The sound of voices interrupted the moment. Matthew glanced over and pulled back when he saw a small group of men riding by on bicycles. Joy did the same. As much as she wanted to revel in this moment, such exhibits of affection weren’t approved of in public.

  “How about we pick up a snack at Yoder’s and take it to the park?” Matthew’s voice was husky, and she knew all the heated emotions racing through her were affecting him too.

  “That sounds like a perfect idea.”

  And it wasn’t until they were walking down the street to Yoder’s that Joy remembered she had first set out to find Mem.

  I’ll wait until tonight to talk to her. Just like Faith had planned. We’ll get it all worked out. Somehow we will.

  And as she glanced up at Matthew walking in step with her, she knew God hadn’t brought them this far to fail them—fail her—now.

  Nine

  Listening is 50 percent of our education.

  AMISH PROVERB

  Joy followed Matthew through the front door of Yoder’s Restaurant—one of the favorite places to eat in Pinecraft, Amish or not. The aroma of fried chicken and fresh cinnamon rolls greeted her, and her stomach rumbled a little despite the lunch she’d had earlier. A cell phone chimed, and Matthew reached inside his pants pocket. Up north, cell phones were only used because of work-related needs, but in Pinecraft it seemed almost everyone had one. The Amish snowbirds often proclaimed, “What happens in Pinecraft stays in Pinecraft.”

  Matthew checked the number, and his brow furrowed. “Sorry…do you mind if I get this? It’s Mose.”

  “Ne, of course not. There’s a line anyway. It’ll be a while before we can get a table.”

  Matthew stepped out of line and hurried outside. From her place in line she saw him talking, and then a worried expression came over his face.

  “Joy?” The Amish hostess waved her forward, and Joy recognized one of Faith’s friends. “Will there be two of you today?”

  “Ja, but give us a minute…” She glanced outside again. Matthew blew out a heavy sigh as he tucked his cell phone back into his pocket. She could see worry on his face and noticed a stiffness in his shoulders.

  She offered a quick smile to the hostess. “I’ll be right back.”

  Joy hurried outside, the warm breeze dancing across her face. “Is everything all right?”

  Matthew released a sigh. “I’m afraid not. It sounds like Mose was using a temperamental chain saw when he was tearing down the old structure. It jumped and got his leg real good. Abraham took him to the ER. They’ve been trying to get hold of me for an hour, but over the noise in my own shop I didn’t hear my phone.”

  “Do you need to go?”

  “Ja.” He removed his hat and ran a hand through his hair. “Not only did we lose Mose’s help, but Abraham’s too. I need to get back to that project. I’m afraid I’m going to be working late. And I was hoping to see you this evening.”

  “I understand. But I actually need to spend time with my dat and mem. Lunch tomorrow?” She offered a bright smile, even though thoughts of her dat caused her chest to resume its ache.

  “That sounds perfect. Maybe a picnic at Phillippi Park?”

  “I’ll prepare a basket.”

  Joy watched him go, moving with long, purposeful steps. She considered picking up a snack to go, but there were plenty of leftovers at home. Besides, she needed to spend her money more wisely now.

  As she walked toward home, Joy said a quick prayer for Mose. Then she considered how best to approach the subject tonight with her dat. She knew he could be stubborn, but he’d raised five girls who could be equally so. She just hoped Dat would allow her and Faith to pitch in. Their family needed him—needed him around, needed him to be well. Ja, there were many needs within the Amish community, but that’s what God designed family for, wasn’t it?

  Dat and Mem sat side by side on the couch. The evening sun slanted through the windows, highlighting the white of Dat’s beard. They’d just finished dinner, and Mem had made an orange cream pie—Dat’s favorite—but no one had touched it. Dat narrowed his gaze at them as Faith asked about his illness.

  “So tell us the truth, Dat. How bad is it? I know you need more money to get the type of help you need.”

  “It’s not something you need to worry about.” His reply was sharp.

  Mem almost seemed relieved by the questions. “John, please. They are concerned. As I told you before, it’s not right that you keep so much from them. They are women now, not children.”

  “Just tell us what we can do to help,” Joy said, jumping in. “Mem’s right. We’re not little girls. None of us can do much alone, but together—”

  Dat waved his hand in the air, acting as if they didn’t need to have the conversation. “I’m fine, I’m fine,” he mumbled under his breath. He shook his head as if they were making a big deal out of nothing, but his thin frame and the concern in Mem’s gaze told a different story.

  Joy clutched her hands on her lap. “Tell us the truth, Mem. We want to know what to expect. How to help.”

  Faith’s chin trembled slightly. Joy reached over and took her sister’s hand.

  “I thought Dat would be better after the move.” Faith sighed. “It did seem as if he was better for a time.”

  “Listen to yourselves.” Dat stroked his chin. “Dat this, Dat that…I’m not dead. I’m sitting right here.”

  “John, please,” Mem said again. “They are just concerned. I’d be more worried if they didn’t want to fret after you.” Mem leaned forward, as if letting them into a secret.

  “We didn’t want to worry you girls. The weather in Pinecraft has helped some, but the lack of manual labor and the rest are what help the most.”

  “But Faith says there is a medication that could help.”

  “Not medication, but therapy. It’s experimental and expensive. Your dat has a lung disease that has ne cure.”

  Joy straightened in her seat. “Mem, how come you haven’t told us before? You let us assume it was simply a chronic respiratory condition. Are you saying it’s something more?”

  Mem’s eyes grew round. A film of tears caused Joy to sigh and sink back on her heels, waiting for the blow Mem’s words were sure to bring.

  “It’s called chronic obstructive pulmonary disease,” Mem said. “Or COPD. A lot of things cause it, but what your dat has is an inherited disease. It’s not common, but not uncommon either. Both of your paternal grandparents had a faulty gene, it seems. These genes tell cells how to make AAT proteins. To state it simply, AAT proteins are made in the liver. These proteins protect organs, such as the lungs.”

  Faith held up a hand, halting her words. “That sounds complicated, but what does it mean?”

  “Your dat’s protein gets stuck in the liver, and it never gets to the organs it needs to protect. The therapy takes donor proteins and injects them into the patient.”

  Joy’s mind reached for any bit of hope. “But the infusions will help, right?”

  “They could.” Mem’s face relaxed as she spoke, as if sharing the information was also sharing the burden. “The therapy involves getting infusions of the AAT protein. It raises the level of protein in a person’s blood and lungs. The doctor mentioned it, but there is not enough research to know how well the therapy works. That’s why we can’t possibly think of approaching the bishop. If we knew it could work…”

  “Is it expensive?”

  Dat nodded. “Too expensive to consider.”

  Faith’s eyes were wide. “But if you got this, then you’d be better?”

  “As I said, there is ne cure for this type of lung disease.” Mem glanced at her husband with tender love. “The therapy is considered preventative. The parts of his lungs that are destroyed will never be healed. The therapy would only stop his lungs from getting worse.”

  Joy looked at her sister and noticed determination in Faith’s gaze. Mem must have seen it too.

  “I know what you’re thinking, but it would take us years to save that much money.” Mem’s words carried emotion, and Joy thought she saw her try to swallow it away. “As your dat says, God knows the number of each of our days. We both have peace with that. This is not something to take into our own hands. Even without the treatment, the doctor believes we still have years left together.”

  Years of sleeping all day? Years of just getting worse and worse? Joy didn’t say the words, but she thought them. O Lord, please show us a way.

  Orange Cream Pie

  1 9-inch baked pastry piecrust

  Orange Filling

  2 cups water

  1 cup sugar

  2 tablespoons cornstarch

  1 teaspoon orange-flavored drink mix (like Tang)

  3 oranges, peeled and chopped

  Cream Cheese Filling

  4 ounces cream cheese, softened

  2 cups confectioners’ sugar

  8 ounces whipped cream (optional)

  To make the orange filling, bring 1½ cups of water to a boil in a saucepan. In a bowl, mix together sugar, cornstarch, and drink mix. Add ½ cup of water into the sugar mixture and stir. Pour into boiling water, reduce to medium heat, stirring as it cooks. Remove from heat when it begins to thicken a bit. Cool. Stir in orange pieces.

  Next, for the cream cheese filling: In a bowl, stir together cream cheese and confectioners’ sugar until creamy. Add half of the whipped cream to the mixture. Spoon into baked piecrust. Top with orange filling. Refrigerate overnight. Decorate the top of the pie with the reserved whipped cream, if desired. Makes one 9-inch pie.