Almost Amish Part 27

"I got her cell number from Kendra, and I called her yesterday and told her I would be in the area and asked if she thought you'd still be open to seeing me. I guess it was sort of a juvenile thing to do, instead of just calling you directly, but . . . well, what can I say? She invited me to dinner tonight and suggested we make it a surprise."

"How long are you in town?"

"A week. Although, I'm here on business and will be in L.A. a good bit of the time. Julie invited my business a.s.sociate, too, but I wanted to clear it with you before he comes here."

"Why would you clear it with me?"

"It's . . . uh . . . Chris."

"A business a.s.sociate?"

"Long story. But he's actually got a gig playing at one of the larger churches in Thousand Oaks tonight. Do you think the kids would want to go?"

"Please come in, and we'll find out."

"Hey, Gary, good to see you." Brian was the first of the kids to notice his arrival. They barely blinked at his appearance; somehow he just fit in so well. Soon they all joined in a happy chorus of greetings.

Susan waited until they calmed down to say, "It turns out that Chris and his band are in Thousand Oaks tonight. Would you want to drive down to see them?"

Angie was out of the pool drying off within a millisecond. "When do we leave?"

The teenagers barely stayed long enough to eat before they disappeared. As the grown-ups lingered over dessert and conversation, Julie said, "I'm going to miss that farm. I hope I get back to see it sometime."

"So do I." Gary looked at Susan. "And I'm hoping Susan wants to see it again, too."

"I'd like that."

"Good. How about next weekend?"

"Are you still working there?"

"Yes. And no." He toyed with his coffee cup. "You probably should also know my last name is not Macko. It's Buchanan, just like Charlotte's."

"I don't understand."

"I am still sort of working at the farm. You might say that I . . . own the place."

"What? I thought it was some burned-out record producer in Nashville who . . ." Susan stopped talking and looked at him. "Are you kidding me?"

He shook his head. "I was ready to slow down a little, and it was just what I needed."

"I suspected it all along." Julie took a sip of her Diet c.o.ke, looking a bit too smug.

"You did not," Susan said.

"Yep, that's my gift. Watching people. And from the beginning I noticed that Kendra gave him way too much respect for him to be a handyman. And in the restaurant in Nashville, those waitresses knew who you were. That's why they put us back in the special room."

"That's why you were using a fake last name." Susan finally began to understand exactly what had happened.

He nodded. "And that's the kind of stuff I'm ready to move away from. I'm ready to be just plain ol' Gary. Of course, if I keep hanging out with this one and the path she's on, they'll be giving us special tables because of her."

"You think you could handle that?" Susan teased.

"I'd sure like to find out."

Epilogue.

She couldn't imagine a more fulfilling day: an entire morning spent packaging beautiful hand-sewn quilts, preparing them to be delivered to a school for orphans in South Africa. Each quilt contained squares with handwritten messages from the women who had worked on them. Some held Bible verses, others, a word of encouragement. This was the second box to be s.h.i.+pped this year, and the notes of thanks had been overwhelming.

Julie's fingers ached from last-minute touch-up sewing; her back ached from hours spent being up late trying to get these finished in time to s.h.i.+p for the Christmas holidays. Julie put the last box in the s.h.i.+pping container and stretched out her arms and back. She looked at her watch. There was forty-five minutes before the BodyBuilders meeting. Today, she was to give her report on the quilts, their impact, and hold up the two quilts that were being kept here as a silent auction-the money which would go to help the same school in South Africa.

There wasn't enough time to make it home, so she decided to treat herself and stop in at the local Starbucks. As she sat sipping her tall, nonfat, double-shot latte, she watched a couple of women walk through the door. Each held a clipboard in her hand and a stressed-out expression on her face. Julie recognized them both from the junior high PTA. They comprised the hospitality committee and had each been more than a little upset when Julie told them she would not be renewing her pledge to bring in homemade baked goods to the teachers' meeting once a month. Julie had told them she would be more than happy to buy m.u.f.fins from the bakery and bring them in, but the women had been adamant: the teachers deserved home-baked goods.

"Yes, I agree that they do, but I simply won't have time for that this year." That had been her final answer.

As the women walked past her with their coffees in hand, Julie overheard one of them whisper to the other, "She doesn't have time to cook for her kids' teachers, but she has time to hang out all day in a coffee shop."

The words found their mark and stung more than a little bit. Guilt began to grow heavier and heavier upon her shoulders, until she found it hard to take the next step. Then . . . she remembered what she had already accomplished today.

She remembered the way her household was running so much more smoothly now. How they'd managed to find a few nights a week to eat homemade meals she'd actually enjoyed cooking.

She thought of Brian and Whitney, how both seemed to be smiling more. How Thomas and she had never been closer.

She remembered the hours spent two weeks ago praying with a woman who'd looked exhausted and desperate at BodyBuilders.

She remembered the quilts and all they would mean to the children overseas: children whose teachers never got fresh-baked goods from parents.

That's when the thought that had been residing in pieces throughout Julie's mind finally crystallized into one cohesive and indelible truth.She stood up and walked from the coffee shop.

When she got to her car, she looked in the rearview mirror for just a moment. She saw the face of a woman who was making a difference.

"I love my life."

She started the car and drove off.

Acknowledgments.

Heavenly Father-For Your grace and love beyond what I can fathom.

Lee Cushman-For your love and support in all things. Hooray for us-we built a house and survived to talk about it (and are still speaking to each other!).

Caroline Cushman-You are an amazing, loving, and upbeat person-truly beautiful inside and out. I want to be like you when I grow up.

Ora Parrish-I'm quite certain there has never been a more loving and supportive mother to have ever walked this planet.

Leah Cushman-Your courage and love always inspire me to be a stronger and better person Carl, Alisa, Katy, and Lisa-It is wonderful to be part of such a fun family Gary, Carolyn, Lori, Kathleen, Brenna, Kristyn, Judy, Denice-Great friends and cheerleaders.

Carrie Padgett, Mike Berrier, Shawn Grady, and Julie Carobini-Writing buddies extraordinaire.

Dave Long-You are an amazing editor, motivator, and friend. I am so grateful that I get to work with you.

Shana Oates-For patiently walking me through the inside world of reality television.

Questions for Conversation.

Amish life is much more difficult than modern life in so many ways. Why do you think many modern women envy this lifestyle?

Name three things about modern life you would be more than happy to give up. Name three that you couldn't do without.

Were your parents more like Julie, who trusts her kids to find their own way; or Susan, who believes that kids need to be pushed to achieve their potential? Which kind of parent are you (or which kind do you think you will be)?

There is a fine line between pus.h.i.+ng yourself (and your kids) too hard and being lax. How do you try to differentiate between the two?

Susan had always envisioned herself as the quintessential wife and mother. When her marriage fell apart, a large part of her self-esteem began to erode. From which of your strengths do you derive the most self-worth? What would happen if that suddenly fell apart?

Do you consider yourself more of a Susan, type A, in control person; or a Julie, type B, pushed around by the type A person?

Can you think of a G.o.d-given gift or talent that you possess but have been too busy to use?

Kathryn Cushman is a graduate of Samford University with a degree in pharmacy. She is the author of four previous novels including Leaving Yesterday and A Promise to Remember, which were both finalists for the Carol Award in Women's Fiction. Kathryn and her family currently live in Santa Barbara, CA.

She enjoys hearing from readers at kathryncushman.com and on Facebook.

Books by Kathryn Cushman.

A Promise to Remember.

Waiting for Daybreak.

Leaving Yesterday.

Another Dawn.

Resources: bethanyhouse.com/AnOpenBook.

Website: www.bethanyhouse.com.

Facebook: Bethany House.