Free Orchard of Hope by Ann H. Gabhart

bell that Sunday school was almost over sounded. Jocie picked up Murray and turned away from the window to help Miss Vangie put away the crayons and coloring books while the boys and girls lined up at the door to wait for the second bell.
    After the bell rang and the kids rushed out into the hall to find their parents, Jocie went back into the Beginners’ room to get a tissue to clean the cookie mess off Murray before she turned him over to his mother. She took one last peek out the window and finally saw a car she didn’t recognize pulling into the parking area. Jocie watched as Noah climbed out of the passenger side of the front seat and reached back in to pick up a little boy who looked about two. Jocie hadn’t thought to ask Noah about brothers and sisters. Another girl of maybe nine or ten climbed out of the backseat and then picked up a little girl who looked the same age as the little boy Noah was carrying.
    “They must be twins,” Jocie told Murray as if the baby knew what she was talking about. “I wish Tabitha was here to see this. She’s half scared of you, Murray baby. She’d faint if she had to think about having two.”
    “Two what?” Murray’s mother said behind her. When Jocie looked around at her, she went on. “I waited out in church, but thought you might be having trouble with Murray.”
    “No trouble. He’s never any trouble. I was just cleaning off his hands and face. Vanilla wafers and drool make cookie mud.”
    “Here, I’ve got a wet cloth in my bag somewhere.” She dug down in her purse until she came up with a wet washrag in a plastic bread sack. “But two what?” she asked again.
    “Two babies.”
    “Oh, my heavens. One at a time is enough. Has the doctor told Tabitha she’s having twins?”
    “No. I was just looking at the two little kids out there and guessing they might be twins.” Jocie moved to the side so that Mrs. McDermott could look out the window too.
    Together they watched Noah’s mother climb out of the car. She was tall and slender and moved with total confidence. Her skin was a beautiful bronze and her black hair was swept back in a neat roll on the back of her head. At least Jocie was guessing the woman might be Noah’s mother. She really didn’t look like anybody’s mother. She looked way too regal for that.
    “She’s beautiful,” Jocie said.
    “She is, isn’t she?” Mrs. McDermott agreed. “They must be the family that bought Harvey McMurtry’s farm. I’d heard they’d moved in.”
    “Did you think they would come to church here?” Jocie asked.
    “Well, I didn’t know, but I’m glad they decided to give our church a chance. Let’s go meet them before church starts.”
    “I met Noah—that’s the boy—Thursday.”
    “Oh, good. So he’ll know somebody.” Mrs. McDermott took Murray and led the way down the hall to the sanctuary.
    As Jocie followed her, she knew again why she liked Mrs. McDermott so much, why most everybody liked Mrs. McDermott. She didn’t just talk about loving her neighbor. She did it. She always wanted to believe the best about anybody and didn’t want to listen if somebody else tried to point out the parts that weren’t best. And she always knew the right thing to say.
    Jocie hoped Mrs. McDermott would do most of the talking now, because Jocie was feeling strangely tongue-tied. Maybe she’d just say hi and play with the toddlers. She was good with little kids. Kids liked her. Kids and dogs.

9
    Each Sunday David was amazed at how much he could tell about the kind of week the people in his congregation had had just by looking at them in the pews as he welcomed them to the morning service. “Good morning,” David said as he made mental notes of the ones he needed to seek out after church for an extra word. “Is everybody warm enough?”
    That brought a laugh since it had to be almost ninety outside, and the cardboard fans donated by the Hazelton Funeral Home were getting a workout all over the church. “Well,