study of a dogwood blossom. Each scene brought back the wonder and awe she’d felt as she’d sketched and painted it. It saddened her greatly that she lived a double life that was unacceptable to God and to her family and friends, but painting was a habit she couldn’t seem to kick.
Once again she told herself to back away from displaying her work at the new marketplace—to preserve her secret rather than risking exposure that would surely get her shunned. Wasn’t it exciting enough to be helping Jo, Lydianne, and the Helfings by creating new shops in what had been a dilapidated stable?
Regina sat down at her easel. She brushed water on a section of the painting in progress and added a few more ribbons of pink and peach to a sunrise she’d begun. Watching the colors run together and take on the delicate hues of an early-morning sky caught her up in the magic of creating. If it was a sin for her to paint, picking up her brush on Sunday surely compounded her transgressions in God’s eyes, yet she was in such a quandary she didn’t know any other way to handle her opposing emotions.
She should tell her friends that her artist friend had declined the offer to display his work. And she should pack up her paints and dispose of the evidence of her wayward nature.
But then what would she do?
Chapter Three
Jo felt downright bubbly as she approached the bishop’s front porch on Wednesday afternoon. “Hey there, Margaret,” she said as Jeremiah’s mother opened the door for her. “Denki for allowing us to invade your kitchen when you’re most likely starting dinner.”
“Sounds like you businesswomen have a lot to discuss if that old stable’s to become a place for shops,” she said. “I’ve got a chicken casserole in the oven, and if your meeting runs long, I’d appreciate it if you’d take it out.”
“Will do.” Jo smiled, recognizing the same undertone of disapproval in Margaret’s voice that her mother had expressed several times since Sunday’s Members Meeting. “The final decision on buying the Clementi place rests with the entire congregation—”
“Puh! Martin and Saul have been here to have their say about it, so I already know how the vote will go,” Margaret remarked as they entered the kitchen. “You’ve got coffee and a few cookies on the counter, so I’ll leave you to your planning.”
Bishop Jeremiah chuckled as he came in from the front room with a stack of papers. “It’s no secret that God’s will and church business proceed faster when the movers and shakers put their influence behind it,” he remarked. “Gut to see you, Jo. I was hoping to speak with you before the others arrived.”
“I’m early,” she admitted, intrigued by what she’d just heard. “I’ve sketched some plans for the arrangement of the shops and—well, I’m excited, so I couldn’t wait to get here.”
“Your enthusiasm and organizational skills will go a long way toward helping this project succeed, too.” Jeremiah laid out his armload of papers on the kitchen table. “I hope you don’t mind that I didn’t give you credit for this marketplace idea on Sunday. Saul had been eyeing the Clementi place as additional pastureland for his cattle, and Clarence had remarked about how crowded the schoolhouse has become. When I suggested that we could build a new school on higher ground if the church acquired that property, Ammon jumped on board. Please don’t think I was downplaying your part in this project—”
“Our church leaders are much more invested in it now because they think it’s mostly their idea—and yours,” Jo put in.
The bishop met her eye gratefully. “Denki for understanding that. With you and your friends planning the shopping area, I believe we can create an appealing attraction that will benefit our district and the whole town of Morning Star. It’s an exciting way to support the schoolhouse, and an opportunity for women and men alike to be involved in the growth of our community.”
As Margaret greeted more folks at the front door, Jo glowed with the bishop’s compliment. Because he’d lost his wife a few years ago and his widowed mamm kept house for him, Jeremiah had more time to devote to new projects—although everyone sincerely hoped he’d find a second wife. Jo had never entertained fantasies that he would ever want to court her, so she and the bishop worked well together on church matters without the complications of a potential romance.
Within the next few minutes, the Helfing twins and Lydianne arrived, and so did Glenn Detweiler and Gabe.
“How’s Dorcas doing? And your new baby boy?” Jo asked as the two men took their seats.
Glenn composed his answer carefully. “Levi’s better now that we’re supplementing Dorcas’s milk with some goat milk,” he replied softly. “The doctor says she’s extremely anemic. He’s put her on vitamins and told her to stay off her feet until she’s stronger. Having this baby has really depleted her body and her strength, so Mamm and Dat are helping us out. Denki for asking.”
“She’s in our prayers,” Jo murmured as the front door opened again.
In the front room, Martha Maude Hartzler exchanged pleasantries with Margaret before joining them in the kitchen, and Regina slipped in last. She was clutching a large brown folder to her chest, and her freckled cheeks appeared flushed.
“Sorry I’m late,” she murmured. “What have I missed?”
“We’re just getting started,” Bishop Jeremiah said as he took his spot at the head of the table. “I asked Pete to stop by before he went in for his shift, so we’ll see if he makes it. Considering how unreliable he can be, I hope I haven’t set us up for delays with the stable renovation—”
“But our other carpenters can help,” Gabe pointed out. “Pete’s a whiz at plumbing and ductwork, though.”
“He is,” the bishop agreed. “And I hope you understand why I’d like to guide him away from his apartment in Higher Ground and his after-work pool hall habit by involving him on this project. Shall we open with a prayer?”
Jo and the others bowed their heads as Bishop Jeremiah invoked God’s guidance. Higher Ground was a new town a few miles down the road from Morning Star. It had been hastily founded by a renegade bishop who’d been excommunicated from Willow Ridge—and who’d subsequently died—so for the local Amish, its reputation was overshadowed by a black cloud. The residents weren’t part of an organized church district anymore, which was another strike against Higher Ground.
“Amen.” The bishop held up a stack of pages. “Since our meeting on Sunday, Martin has provided for us these forms from Byler Printing, where Flaud Furniture gets their invoices and receipts. He’s also suggested that we could have them handle our advertising, both print and online.”
Glenn took a packet of forms before passing them along. “I’ve had the Bylers design flyers and a simple website for my carving business,” he remarked. “Couldn’t hurt to involve them and other Mennonites in our new project, for better exposure.”
“Jah, because it’s English shoppers we’re trying to attract,” Gabe pointed out. “Probably three-quarters of our custom furniture orders come from our online presence. We wouldn’t have nearly the reach if the Bylers weren’t maintaining a site for us.”
Jo listened carefully as she took a packet of the forms and then handed them to Molly and Regina. She was quickly realizing that her enthusiasm for the new shops wouldn’t be enough to make them successful. “I’m
