Plain Jane’s Secret Admirer
Plain Jane’s Secret Admirer
ANNE BLACKBURNE
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Plain Jane’s Secret Admirer ©2026 by Anne Blackburne
Print ISBN 979-8-89151-257-3
Adobe Digital Edition (.epub) 979-8-89151-258-0
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All scripture quotations are taken from the King James Version of the Bible.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual people, organizations, and/or events is purely coincidental.
Cover Design: Kirk DouPonce, DogEared Design
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Our mission is to inspire the world with the life-changing message of the Bible.
Printed in the United States of America.
Dedication
For Jennifer, always the better grammarian! I know that you’re drinking Everlasting Love from the Flowing Fountain that is Jesus.
I’ll see you later, little sister.
CHAPTER ONE
“I see you trying not to roll your eyes at me, Jane! Is that any way to treat a friend on the verge of a nervous breakdown?”
With a mighty effort, Jane Bontrager managed not to actually roll her eyes, but she couldn’t hold back a laugh as her lifelong best friend and brand-new sister-in-law, Lizzie, stood wringing her hands as she glanced around the seating area of her business, The Plain Beignet. Lizzie and Jane’s brother, John, were preparing to leave on their long-anticipated wedding trip, and Lizzie was experiencing last-minute jitters at the thought of leaving her business in other hands, even hands as capable as her good friends’.
“Are you sure you’re all right with us leaving now?” Lizzie fretted, chewing on her bottom lip as she turned to look earnestly at Jane. “We don’t have to go today. I’m sure John would understand. After all, we’ve only been married a couple weeks, and we could put off our wedding trip if you need me to stay.”
Jane smiled at Lizzie, who almost looked like she hoped Jane would give her an excuse not to leave her beloved bakery. Not going to happen, my friend. “We’ll be fine, right, Eliza?” Jane asked their younger friend who worked with them in Lizzie’s New Orleans-style French/Amish bakery, located in the heart of Ohio’s Amish Country in the town of Willow Creek.
Eliza King gave an emphatic nod, causing the strings of her translucent white prayer kapp, which was heart shaped in the Lancaster, Pennsylvania, style rather than the more cone-shaped, flat-topped ones found in Ohio, to swing about.
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“Ja, of course we will. Don’t you trust us, Lizzie?” Eliza batted her eyes at their friend just as a horn tooted out front, signaling that their ride to the train station in Akron had arrived.
Jane’s older brother John came up and captured his bride’s hand. He had clearly overheard Lizzie’s nervous offer, and he gave her a reassuring smile she couldn’t help but respond to. He lifted her hand and pressed a tender kiss on her knuckles, causing Lizzie to blush and Jane to sigh wistfully as she thought of another young man she wished and prayed would someday cherish her the way John obviously cherished her friend.
John smiled into Lizzie’s eyes as if she were the only thing he could see. “Lizzie, you know you can trust Jane and Eliza to watch over the business while we’re gone. They’ve both been with you since before you opened.” He bent and picked up her backpack/purse and handed it to her before picking up the two suitcases sitting nearby on the wide plank pine floor of the bakery and turning toward the front door. Raising an eyebrow at his wife, he said, “The van is here. If we don’t hurry, we’ll miss our train.”
Lizzie, normally a perfectly rational woman as well as a gifted businesswoman, cast a glance out the front door at the waiting vehicle then took a deep breath and visibly got hold of herself. “Of course I know you’ll take gut care of The Plain Beignet. It’s just that it’s been a while since I went anywhere farther than Berlin, and I feel as if I’m abandoning you guys.” She gave a sheepish smile and turned to walk toward the door.
John, who was holding the front door open, stood aside to let her pass, but she suddenly spun back, holding up a hand. “Remember the standing pastry order for Rebekkah’s Country Kitchen. She picks up every morning by eight. Oh! And don’t forget to deposit the money every evening. We don’t want it sitting around in the safe, except for the starter cash.” She paused to think for a moment, gave a nod, and started to turn—but then spun back. “I almost forgot! Remember Simon Yoder’s birthday cake. Mary said she’d pick it up tomorrow afternoon.” She stood frowning as if trying to think of something else, and Jane stepped forward and turned her friend toward the door, which John was still holding open.
“It’s all written down, Lizzie. We’ll check the calendar every morning and every night. And we’ll remember to write down any new orders that come in. I promise not to run you out of business in the next few weeks. Now go! Enjoy your trip, and say hi to Ruth’s folks in Beeville for me.
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And give my love to our cousins in Wisconsin!”
John and Lizzie were traveling to Beeville, Texas, by train to visit several former members of their Amish community who had relocated to the Amish community in the Texas hills. They would also stop in an Amish community in Wisconsin to visit cousins of John and Jane’s who hadn’t been able to make it to their wedding.
Lizzie stood irresolutely by the door, an arrested look on her face as she tried to remember if there were any other vital instructions she needed to dispense.
“We’ll remember everything,” Jane said with a grin for her friend’s nervousness. “And if you think of anything else, you can call us from Beeville. Now go! You’re starting to make me think you don’t trust us!”
“Of course I trust you!” She nibbled on her lower lip, then her eyes popped wide. “Remember to take good care of Little Mouse! She’s going to think I’m abandoning her!” From the way she peered toward the stairs that led up to the residential floors of the building, Jane could tell that Lizzie was within an inch of running back up to kiss her pretty gray kitty goodbye once more—for what would amount to the fourth time that morning.
“Lizzie,” Jane said gently, laying a hand on her friend’s arm. “Little Mouse will be fine. She’s got Secret to hang out with, and they’re best buds, you know that. What could possibly happen to her? We’ll all be fine. Go. Enjoy yourself.”
“Go on, Lizzie, before you make us think you don’t trust us!” Eliza King added with a smile to let Lizzie know she was joking.
After a moment Lizzie smiled tremulously at her two friends and hurried forward to give her bestie since childhood a strong hug, followed by a hug for Eliza. “I know you’ll do fine. I love you guys! See you in a couple weeks! Hug Little Mouse for me! I’ll check in once a week.”
John did roll his eyes over his wife’s head, and then he and Lizzie were out the door. Jane and Eliza stepped forward and waved as John stowed their luggage in the back of the large white van, and then they helped Lizzie climb up into the passenger area. They kept waving as the van pulled away and drove off down the street.
Jane closed the door, turned the lock since they wouldn’t be opening for another hour, and grinned at Eliza. “Well, they’re off!”
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“Finally!” Eliza laughed. “I know she’s worried about leaving the business for the first time since it opened. But actually, I think she’s more worried about leaving Little Mouse. You know how she dotes on that cat!”
Jane grinned. “I think it’s a draw.”
“You’re probably right. But I believe she’ll end up having a great time.”
Jane nodded. “Of course she will! And goodness, it’s time she took a break. It’s been over a year since we opened. You went to Lancaster to see your folks at Christmas, and again this summer, and I went up to Kelleys Island with my family for a few days this summer. Lizzie hasn’t taken any time off. I was starting to worry she’d burn out. So it’s very gut she’s taking a few weeks off now. When she gets back she’ll be fresh as a daisy and ready to get back to work!”
“Speaking of work, we’d better get back to it. It’s Monday, so the ladies from the bank will be in for their doughnuts,” Eliza said, waggling her eyebrows at the standing order the women from a local bank always placed for two dozen chocolate-covered chocolate cake doughnuts. They looked at each other and simultaneously said, “Chocolate overload!” It was an old joke. The bankers, all in their fifties and sixties, had been eating the same kind of chocolate-on-chocolate doughnuts for more than twenty years. They wouldn’t even consider trying any other type.
Chuckling, Jane said, “And the Realtors meeting is today, so they’ll want a few dozen assorted pastries.”
Eliza and Jane made their way to the back to get ready for the day ahead. Since they’d been baking for a couple of hours, they were both wearing white aprons over their dresses and hairnets under their kapps.
Jane pulled a sheet of croissants from an oven and set it on a stainlesssteel counter before sliding a pan of beignets in and closing the oven door and setting a timer.
Eliza picked up a tray of cake doughnuts and headed up front to set them out in the display case. “I’ll start putting out the pastries and make coffee.”
Jane nodded. “Sounds gut. And I’ll get started on the chicken and ham salads we’re offering for lunch today.”
Eliza disappeared through the swinging door into the front of the bakery, and Jane got to work on the lunch salads.
As she worked, Jane thought about the circle of close friends she’d
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known since childhood, some her age and some older or younger. She was blessed to have friends who really cared about each other. And beyond them, a wider community of friends, relatives, neighbors, and associates in the gmay, their church community, who watched out for one another the way she figured Gott had intended when He created people in the first place.
She stirred mayonnaise into the chicken salad and pondered the day her elderly friend Lydia Coblentz had gifted her and each of her seven best friends, all single Amish women, with a kitten from her cat Hepzibah’s final litter.
“Four years ago,” she murmured as she added pecans and dried cranberries to the chicken salad. “And three of us—Ruth, Mary, and Lizzie—are all married now!”
Finishing up the chicken salad, she stored it in the walk-in fridge and started on the ham salad. It was hard to believe how much had changed since that day in Ruth Helmuth’s kitchen. Three of the eight married, and two of them with kinner already!
“And I’m still alone, pining foolishly after a man who acts like he doesn’t even know I exist. Pathetic.” She put the ham salad into the walk-in fridge and stood in the kitchen, hands on her slim hips, looking around as she decided what to do next.
A flicker of white at the corner of her eye caused her to turn toward the back door, which led into the alley behind the bakery and other buildings on Willow Creek’s Main Street. “What on earth?”
She walked over to the door and peered out into the dawning day. A white envelope was taped to the glass. Frowning, she opened the door and peered down the alley in each direction. Seeing no one, she carefully pulled the envelope from the glass, turning it in her hands, and gave a small gasp.
“Why, it’s addressed to me!” She was about to pull the door closed when she happened to glance down at the stoop, where she saw a small bowl containing a half dozen eggs in various shades of blue and green.
“How pretty!” she exclaimed, bending to retrieve the bowl, which she noted was made from brown pottery—plain but very pretty.
Closing the door, she walked over to the counter and put down the bowl of eggs, which she had to guess were fresh farm eggs, although who locally had chickens that laid such pretty eggs she didn’t know.
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Then she looked at the envelope again and, curious, grabbed a knife and slit it open. She withdrew a plain piece of white stationary, upon which was written a simple message:
I hope you like these eggs. They’re as pretty as you are. And the bowl is both pretty and useful, so I figured you’d like it too.
It was signed, An Admirer.
“Oh my goodness! Eliza!” she cried, “Come quick! You won’t believe it!”
She turned toward the swinging door, but Eliza hurried through before she took a step. “Jane? Are you okay? I heard you yell. What’s going on?”
“Eliza, look at this!” She stood aside and pointed at the bowl of eggs and waved the note at her friend. Eliza frowned and came forward, peering down at the pretty eggs before looking at Jane.
“What is this? I don’t remember having colorful eggs. . .and I don’t recognize this bowl. Did Lizzie leave it here as some weird surprise?”
Jane shook her head and thrust the note into Eliza’s hands. “Not Lizzie, but someone did! Read the note!”
Eliza glanced at the note then looked back at Jane in disbelief. “Where did you find this?”
“I saw the envelope taped to the window on the back door, and the bowl of eggs was on the stoop!”
Eliza glanced doubtfully at the eggs. “I mean, they’re pretty, but what kind of gift is this? Eggs and a bowl?”
Jane’s face fell. “I don’t know, I kind of like them. And look how pretty the bowl is! It looks hand fired to me. The glaze is beautiful. Plain and useful, sure, but also lovely.”
A look of chagrin on her face, Eliza said, “I don’t mean to ruin your enjoyment, I’m sorry, Jane.” Eliza cast another doubtful glance at the eggs. “But you have to admit it’s an odd gift for a secret admirer to leave at the door.”
Then her eyes widened as she realized what she’d said. “Jane! You have a secret admirer! Who could it be?”
Jane stared at Eliza, who stared back. Blinking, she shook her head slowly. “I have no idea.”
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Samuel Mast grimaced as he fitted the final wheel onto the carriage of a two-seater buggy he was making for a family in a neighboring town. The wheel didn’t want to go on properly, and after several minutes of attempting to bend it to his will, Samuel grunted in disgust and sat back on his haunches, staring absently at the stubborn contraption. He shoved a lock of chestnut-brown hair out of his eyes, thinking it was past time for a haircut. “I’m going to need help with this wheel.”
A minute later he shook his head and pushed to his feet. “It’s not the wheel’s fault you’re distracted, man,” he muttered to himself. Turning away from the someday buggy, he stalked over to a window and stood looking outside at the field where his growing herd of Tunis sheep grazed contentedly, his hazel eyes unfocused as he gazed not on the scene outside the window, but inwardly on something that was troubling him.
With a groan of embarrassment, he saw himself carefully placing a bowl of colorful eggs on the back stoop of The Plain Beignet early that morning and then taping an envelope to the window of the shop. He’d peeked inside, where he’d seen two women, Eliza King and Jane Bontrager, talking as they took trays of baked goods out of ovens.
Suddenly aware he was acting like a Peeping Tom, he’d stepped away from the back door of the business and hurried down the alley to where he’d left his buggy and his patient standardbred gelding, Ralph.
Now leaning his forehead against the window glass, he rolled his head back and forth in disgust. “Ach! What was I thinking? Jane Bontrager would never look at me. She’s so vital and fun, and I’m just. . .boring. And now I’ve started something I don’t know how to finish. Secret admirer?” He smacked himself smartly on the forehead. “I’m a dummkopf! What kind of gift is a bowl of eggs? Eggs to a baker! It’s as if I’d brought straw to Ephraim.”
He closed his eyes. He knew that he was avoiding the most important fact of all—a fact that, if Jane knew it, would ensure that she would never, ever give Samuel a second glance. Not that she’d given him a first one yet, as far as he knew.
He recalled with anguish the day he’d bestowed on her the nickname of Plain Jane—a nickname that had, unfortunately, stuck with the young
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Amish girl through her teen years.
It didn’t matter that it had been unwittingly done. The fact was that the carelessly bestowed nickname had hurt her. He’d seen the pain in her expressive brown eyes, filled with tears the day she’d heard some of their schoolmates laughing and calling her Plain Jane.
Ironically, she was anything but plain, especially in his eyes! She was beautiful, and he’d made her doubt it, all because he was a coward.
He shuddered to think what would have happened if she had run around the corner of the one-room Amish schoolhouse in time to overhear him oh-so-cleverly calling her Plain Jane to prove to some foolish school chum that he didn’t have a crush on her because the other boys had been teasing him about her.
Except, of course, he did have a crush on her, even back then when she’d been twelve and he’d been fourteen, almost done with school and old enough to know better than to call an innocent girl names.
She hadn’t overheard him, but the nickname had quickly caught on, and the damage had been done. He hadn’t known how to confess or apologize, and somehow nobody had remembered or told her that he was the one who’d come up with the mean name.
So instead of having the terrible thing come out then and there, and being able to own his guilt and apologize. . .he’d spent the next twelve years regretting what he’d done.
And pining for Jane Bontrager from afar.
A woman who didn’t know he existed and who, if she knew what he’d done, would be more likely to shun him than to give him the chance he craved to be her man.
Samuel stared at the sheep and brooded.
“Pathetic,” he muttered. “Okay, Samuel, get it together.”
“Talking to yourself again, Sam?”
Samuel pulled himself away from the window, plastered a smile on his face, and turned to see who had come into his buggy workshop.
“Oh, it’s you, Benuel.”
Samuel’s longtime best friend, Benuel Fisher, studied Sam then shook his head. “Okay, Sam, out with it. What’s eating you?”
Samuel fought off the urge to tell Benuel to take a hike. It wasn’t Ben’s fault Sam had succumbed to some kind of insanity—hopefully the
PLAIN JANE’S SECRET ADMIRER
temporary kind—when he’d dreamed up the idea of becoming Jane’s secret admirer.
He took a deep breath and blew it out before meeting his friend’s perceptive gaze. “It’s really nothing, Ben. I’m just having a broody day, that’s all.”
“Nuh-uh, I’m not buying that. The only time you get like this is when you’re thinking too much about you-know-who.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Sam said, spinning from the window and stalking back to the buggy in progress. “Help me get this wheel on, will you? It’s giving me trouble.”
Ben sauntered over and helped Samuel wrest the wheel onto the axle, holding it while his friend fitted it securely into place before stepping back and giving Samuel a knowing look. “Oh no, it isn’t ridiculous. How long have we been friends?”
Samuel refused to meet Ben’s eyes, just shrugging and wiping his hands off on a handkerchief he then stuffed back into his pocket.
“Come on, Sam. How long?”
“Well, since we’re both twenty-six, I guess it would be twenty-six years, give or take a few months,” Samuel muttered.
Ben grinned smugly. “That’s right. And who knows you best in the world?”
“My maem?”
“Other than your folks, I mean. And other than your siblings,” he added before Samuel could throw them in.
“Fine. That would be you. Satisfied?”
The smile melted off Ben’s handsome, beardless face as he studied his friend’s miserable aspect. “No, I’m not satisfied when you’re obviously so unhappy. What happened?” He held up a hand. “Wait. You’re about done here, aren’t you? Let’s go get some pie and coffee, and you can tell me then.”
Samuel thought about it and shrugged. Pie and coffee were kind of a no-brainer, after all. “Sure, why not? It’s not like I can make things worse.”
He followed his friend out of the buggy shop, locking the door behind him. He’d have a little pie, coffee, and conversation. Maybe Ben, who had always had an easy way with girls, would have some useful advice for him. He could only hope!
CHAPTER TWO
Samuel sat across from Ben at a table at Ginger House Coffee in downtown Berlin, a spiced caramel latte warming his hands.
Ben plopped into the chair across from him, a whipped cream mustache on his upper lip, and took an appreciative sip of his own coffee before popping a doughnut hole into his mouth. “Mmm, hits the spot. I was starving.”
Samuel continued studying his coffee, saying nothing. After a minute, Ben sighed. “Samuel, I overheard your comment about taking straw to Ephraim.” When Sam’s head snapped up at that, Ben shrugged. “Sorry. I wasn’t exactly sneaking around. You were too lost in thought to hear me. So. Who did you take something they already have plenty of, if you don’t mind me asking?”
When Sam just glared at him, unwilling to confess his embarrassing actions, a small grin stole across Ben’s lips. “Okay, let’s play a guessing game.” He pointed to himself. “I’ll guess, and you tell me if I’m right.”
“This is silly.”
“My first guess is that you took something to a certain pretty baker in Willow Creek. Am I right?” He tossed another doughnut hole into his mouth.
Sam grunted and took a sip of his latte, and Ben laughed and pointed a finger at him. “I’m right! I am, aren’t I?” He popped two more doughnut holes, one after the other. “Come on, Sam, spill!”
“Don’t talk with your mouth full. What, are you eight?”
Ben made a production of chewing with his mouth closed,
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finishing with a big swallow of coffee. “There. So, am I right?”
Sam puffed air from his cheeks and gave in. “Fine! Yes, I took a stupid gift to Jane and left it, along with a lame note, at the back door of the bakery.”
“This is getting interesting.” Ben leaned toward Sam, arms crossed on the table. “How stupid a gift? And how lame a note?”
“Pretty stupid and pretty lame.”
When Ben just waited, Sam sighed again and then told his friend what he’d done. When he was finished, he sat back and waited to see what the man who knew all his hopes, dreams, and frustrations—as much as any guy knew such things about his best friend—would say.
For a moment, Ben said nothing. He bit the inside of his cheeks and covered his mouth with a fist, and Sam groaned, knowing this was going to hurt.
Ben held up a hand. “Okay, I’m not going to laugh. It was touchand-go for a minute, but I’ve got it under control.” He made a downward, calming gesture with both hands, smiling beatifically at his friend.
Sam blinked at him, and said, deadpan, “I’m so glad.”
“Don’t be sarcastic. I’m trying to help you. At least now I understand the straw to Ephraim comment. A baker probably has plenty of eggs.” He held up a finger. “But! Maybe not fancy blue and green ones, so that’s possibly not a total disaster.” Apparently realizing he had icing from his last doughnut hole on his finger, he licked it like a kid. “Mmm.”
Sam’s eyes lit up a bit. “Do you really think so?”
Ben nodded earnestly. “Sure. And the brown pottery bowl sounds gut.” He held up his hands, palms up, and raised one while lowering the other, and then reversed the process, as if weighing options. “Plain but pretty, and undeniably useful. So also not a terrible gift.”
Sam allowed himself a small smile and sigh of relief. “So you don’t think the whole thing was lame?”
Ben scratched the back of his neck. “Well, maybe not the bowl of eggs. But the note, man. What were you thinking?”
Sam groaned. “I don’t know! I’ve been asking myself all afternoon. I compared a woman to a bowl of eggs. Eggs!” He smacked himself on the forehead. “Thank Gott I didn’t sign my name. Maybe I can just pretend it never happened, and the whole unfortunate thing will just”—he wiggled his fingers in the air—“go away.”
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Ben snickered. “I don’t think so. You’ve told a single woman she has a secret admirer. She’ll be on this like a bloodhound on a scent trail. And the trail will lead back to you, my friend.”
“But how? I haven’t told anyone else. She couldn’t figure it out, I’m sure.”
“Question—which horse did you use this morning?”
Sam blinked. “Millie. Why?”
Ben ticked off the points on his fingers. “You went to Willow Creek early this morning, parked your buggy, with your very identifiable blackand-white paint horse, on the street—your first mistake. You should have taken her into the alley.”
“I thought Jane might hear the hooves and come see who was back there.”
“People drive through alleys all the time, Sam. She wouldn’t have thought anything of it.”
Deflated, Sam sank back into his chair. “Oh.”
“That’s done, so no point worrying over it. Your next mistake was giving her something so unusual. Not many people around here breed chickens that give colorful eggs. I don’t even know what kind of chicken that would be. They weren’t dyed, were they?”
Sam shook his head glumly. “Easter Egger chickens. A woman I know in Sugarcreek has a flock.”
Ben gave him a lopsided grin. “Of course you know someone with chickens that lay Easter eggs. Moving on, you had to get that pottery bowl somewhere—I’m guessing a gift shop here in Berlin?”
“No, I got it over at Holmes County Pottery in Big Prairie a few weeks ago.” He looked hopeful. “Maybe she won’t figure it out?”
Ben shrugged. “Maybe. But the note, Sam. The note is the thing that will lead her to you.”
“I don’t see how. It’s on plain white paper in a plain white envelope.”
“Sure, but you said pretty things to a single young Amish woman and signed it as her secret admirer.”
“Not secret. Just admirer.”
Ben waved that away. “Same thing. She’s what, twenty-four, twentyfive now? Probably wants to get married, and for some reason hasn’t found the right man in the local Amish community. So she’ll be feeling a bit desperate, probably. She’ll come looking for you.”
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Samuel was insulted by his friend’s reasoning. “Jane Bontrager has no reason to feel desperate about finding a man or getting married! She’s a beautiful, interesting young woman, and when she decides to get married, she’ll have no trouble.” He stopped his tirade when he saw that Ben was sitting there grinning at him. “What?”
“You.” He pointed at his friend, clearly delighted. “You’re in love with this woman. You’ve been in love with her since school. Sam! Why don’t you just ask her out before some other man notices how pretty and interesting she is?”
Samuel pursed his lips and looked away. “It’s not that easy.”
Ben looked truly puzzled by this. “Not easy to ask a woman out? Why not?”
“It’s complicated, Ben. Have you forgotten what I did to her?”
Ben frowned for a few moments then raised his eyebrows in amazement. “Are you talking about the nickname?”
Soberly, Samuel nodded, his eyes full of misery. Surely now Ben would understand how impossible his situation was.
But it seemed Ben did not see things in that light. He opened his mouth then closed it, as if thinking better of whatever he’d been about to say. After a few moments, he spoke slowly, as if to a child. “Sam. . .we’ve talked about this before. And before that. And before that. I thought you’d let this go. Nobody has referred to Jane Bontrager as. . .what was it?”
“Plain Jane,” Sam whispered shamefacedly.
“Right. Plain Jane.” He chuckled. “It was pretty clever when you think about it.” Obviously seeing that his friend didn’t see the humor, he gestured with his half-eaten doughnut hole. “She’s Plain, as in Amish, and her name is Jane. It rhymes and plays on her cultural identity.” He shrugged. “Clever.” He polished off the pastry then licked the icing off his fingers. Samuel, panicked at the thought of anyone overhearing, looked wildly around the coffee shop. Nobody was paying attention, thank goodness. “Ben, not so loud!” he hissed. “It wasn’t clever, it was mean. I did it because I was young and stupid, and didn’t want the other fellows to know how I felt about her. Now I’ve lost her forever, all because I was dumm as a youngie! You’d have heard me yourself if you hadn’t been out with chicken pox. Who gets chicken pox when they’re fourteen? You should have been there to stop me from ruining my life!” He dropped his face into his hands.
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Ben sighed. “Sam, you are a lost cause. I guarantee that if you walked up to Jane”—at Sam’s renewed glare, he lowered his voice and leaned closer—“and told her you were the one who accidentally bestowed that nickname on her, told her exactly what you just told me, she would probably either have no idea what nickname you were talking about, or she would laugh and say she hadn’t thought about it in years.”
Sam frowned. “You think so?”
Ben sat back and gave a breezy wave. “I know so. Nobody holds a grudge that long, Sam. So, why not try?”
Sam thought about it, trying to picture himself walking up to Jane Bontrager and confessing the sin he’d been agonizing over for more than ten years. It was terrifying. He bit his lips, and Ben shook his head.
“Sam, you have to get over this shyness around women, or you’ll be a bachelor forever.”
“Says my friend the bachelor.”
Ben slapped a hand to his chest. “I’m a bachelor because I haven’t met the right woman yet. You’ve known who the right woman for you was since you were what, six?”
“Eight. She’s two years younger.”
“Right. Pathetic.”
Sam sighed. “I know. I’ve told myself exactly that. It doesn’t help.”
Ben folded his arms across his chest. “So, what if I help you?”
“Help me? How?”
“Let me think about it for a few days. I’ll come up with something.” He stood and stretched. “Come on. I have to get home and do the chores before dinner. Maem is making meat loaf! Good thing I had the doughnut holes, or I never would have made it.”
Samuel followed his friend out of the shop, second thoughts already assailing him. “Ben, you have to promise you won’t do anything without talking to me about it first, okay?”
Ben cast a sideways look at Sam. “What would I do?”
“I don’t know, but I need that promise, Ben. I’m serious.”
“Fine. I won’t do anything without discussing it with you first.”
They climbed into Sam’s one-seat buggy and turned toward his home, where Ben had left his own horse and buggy. After a few minutes of companionable silence, Sam said, “Or say anything.”
Anne Blackburne
“What?”
“You can’t say anything to anyone without talking to me first, either. Don’t do or say anything to anyone about this without first talking to me.”
“Wow, Sam, you’re a mess.”
“Don’t you think I know that? Just promise, Ben. I’m a desperate man, here!”
“Okay, okay, I promise.” They pulled into Samuel’s driveway, and he parked the buggy and jumped out. He began unhitching Ralph, his brown standardbred ex-racehorse, whom he’d taken to the coffee shop since Millie had gotten to go out that morning, while Ben led his own mare, Cupid, back to his buggy and hitched her up.
They finished at about the same time, Sam having stowed the tack and turned Ralph into the pasture after giving him a quick rubdown, and Ben climbing into his own one-seat conveyance. Sam walked over to wave his friend off and couldn’t stop himself from extracting one final promise from Ben.
“I won’t say anything, Sam. I already promised. Besides, I have a plan.”
“A plan?” Sam was a bit worried. “What kind of plan?”
“I’m not ready to tell you yet. It’s not completely formed, but don’t worry, my plans always work out!”
“What? No! They don’t!”
Ben pointed at his ears and pretended he couldn’t hear Sam.
“Remember the pie when we were fifteen? That didn’t work out very well!” But Ben was already driving down the long driveway. Sam thought he might have heard his friend’s laughter trailing behind but couldn’t be certain.
Sam watched him go, feeling an odd combination of hope and dread. He wasn’t sure which emotion had the upper hand. “Sometimes Ben’s crazy plans work out,” he reminded himself. “But that pie plan did not go well.”
He sent up a silent prayer to his heavenly Father for courage.
Gott, please help me. Ben’s right. I’m a mess. This has gone on for far too long. You know how I feel about Jane. Please help me find a way to tell her what I did. And please, if it is Your will, let her understand and forgive. And maybe return my feelings, if that isn’t asking too much. Your will be done, Vader.
He paused, then added out loud, “And Vader, please, whatever idea Ben’s cooking up, don’t let it turn out like the pie thing. Amen.”
PLAIN
JANE’S SECRET ADMIRER
He stared down the empty driveway then shook off his uneasy mood. “I’ve got time to put another hour into the buggy before dinner. It’s not going to build itself.”
He walked back into his workshop, wondering what he’d gotten himself into and knowing that whatever happened he couldn’t blame all of it—or even most of it—on Ben.
“A secret admirer? But Jane, that’s wunderbar!” Jane’s elderly friend Lydia Coblentz clapped her hands in delight. “Don’t you think so, Abram?”
Abram Troyer, the bishop of their Amish district, looked less thrilled. “I don’t know, Lydia. It’s rather unorthodox, don’t you think?”
Lydia frowned at her longtime friend Abram, who was seated at the table in the bakery’s kitchen, reading the note Jane had found taped to the back door of the bakery that morning. “What’s unorthodox about a young woman having an admirer?”
“It’s fine for her to have an admirer. It’s the secret part I don’t like. A proper Amish man should not be afraid to step forward and express his interest in a young woman. It feels off somehow.”
Jane felt a new uncertainty creep in at the bishop’s words. “Off ? How do you mean, Abram? Do you think whoever sent that note could be. . .I don’t know, dangerous somehow?”
Abram’s gaze softened when he looked at Jane. “Now, Jane, I didn’t mean to imply that. I’m sure he’s just not ready to show his hand yet, whoever he is.”
“Right! It could be for any number of completely understandable reasons,” Eliza tossed in from over by the sink, where she was washing up the latest pots, pans, baking sheets, and dishes.
Jane cast her friend a skeptical look. “Oh? Can you name one?”
Eliza frowned and turned back to the sink. “Hmmm. I’ll think on that. Washing dishes is a great way to let go and allow your mind to ponder things you don’t have time to think about at other times, because you’re too busy!”
“I’ve always thought the same thing.” Lydia smiled. “Some of my best ideas have come to me while I washed dishes and let my mind wander.”
Anne Blackburne
“Hmph, if you have nothing to think about, you should turn your mind to prayer,” Abram said. “That’s a much better use of your brain than daydreaming!”
Lydia patted Abram on the arm. “Oh, Abram, don’t be a grump.” Turning her attention back to Jane, she waved the note at her. “Now, Jane, you just let this simmer. Wait and see what he does next. Personally, I can’t wait to find out what that will be!”
“Just so it’s nothing too fancy,” Abram grumbled.
“Eggs in a brown pottery bowl are not my idea of fancy. Are they yours?”
“Well, no. Eggs are a sensible gift,” he allowed.
A corner of Jane’s mouth quirked up at that. In fact, the old proverbial expression about taking straw to Ephraim (referencing a place mentioned in the Bible that was rich in wheat) had occurred to her when she realized she’d been gifted eggs. . .which she placed in the bakery refrigerator beside dozens of eggs they used in their baking every day.
But she knew she would be keeping these particular eggs for her own personal use. They were not going into a baked good to be sold in the bakery. They felt special.
“He’s shy!” Eliza exclaimed.
“Huh?” Jane asked, pulled from her thoughts of how to use the pretty eggs.
“Your admirer must be shy, so he can’t tell you to your face how he feels,” Eliza explained, drying her hands on a dish towel.
“That could well be,” Lydia said, pushing to her feet. “Time will tell. Come, Abram, we still need to stop at the market so I can pick up a few things for supper.”
“Denki for stopping in, and for your opinion on this matter,” Jane said, giving Lydia a hug. “Come back soon.”
Jane saw Lydia and Abram to the front door then returned to help Eliza put the bakery to rights in preparation for the following day.
“Do you think there’s something brewing between those two?” Eliza asked as she cleaned out the display cases, making certain to leave no crumbs that might attract critters.
Jane smiled. “I’ve thought so for a while, but until they decide to do something about it, we’ll just have to wait and see.”
PLAIN JANE’S SECRET ADMIRER
“They should marry,” Eliza mused aloud. “It would make their lives easier.”
“They might enjoy their lives just as they are,” Jane pointed out. “They’ve both been married before, and perhaps they like their own space. They seem to be together nearly every day as it is.”
“Mmm,” Eliza hummed, closing the final display case with a decisive snick of the latch. “I suppose. Well, that’s it for today. I guess I’ll head home. Any plans for this evening?”
Jane saw Eliza to the front door, standing inside as Eliza walked out onto the sidewalk. “Nee. Little Mouse, Secret, and I will probably have a quiet evening at home. I’m in the middle of a good book, and honestly, with Lizzie and John on their wedding trip, I think I’m going to enjoy the alone time.”
“You won’t feel odd, being in this big place all by yourself?”
“Nee, I like it. Besides, the cats will let me know if they hear anything out of the ordinary. Remember how fierce Little Mouse was when she was protecting Lizzie from the man who wanted to put the bakery out of business last year?”
The small gray kitty had caterwauled deafeningly and leaped upon the villain’s head, incapacitating him until the police could grab him. It had been something to behold!
Eliza looked up at the three-story, historic brick building and gave a small shudder. “Well, I’d find it creepy being in there all alone at night. But that’s just me. I’ll see you tomorrow, bright and early!”
She turned and headed down the sidewalk toward the upstairs apartment she shared with Jane’s younger sister, Susan. The apartment was just a couple of blocks away above the local doctor’s office. The doctor, Reuben King, was Amish, and married to their friend Mary. He was also Eliza’s big brother, which was how she’d gotten the nice apartment situated within an easy walk of the bakery.
Jane closed the door and locked it, then turned and surveyed the empty space that made up the public area of her friend Lizzie’s bakery. She supposed some might find being alone in the big old building uncomfortable, especially since they’d found out the previous year that a murder had taken place in the building about a hundred years earlier, back when it was an inn. But Jane wasn’t the fanciful type, and ancient history didn’t bother her.