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Authors: Mary Ellis

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BOOK: A Widow's Hope
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As for Seth Miller…who could blame him for not wanting Phoebe influenced by a woman not known for honesty? Was omitting details of her past the same as telling lies? His withdrawing the child from her life hurt almost as much as the realization she had no future with the dark–haired man who loved sheep, and nature, and being Amish. Almost, but not quite. Seth had burrowed into a heart she’d thought immune to flights of fancy. She loved him, plain and simple.

Disappointed by her behavior, he would never ask to court her now. Not with the elders’ reprimand hanging over her head, and not with her own cowardice like a thunderhead on the horizon.

Julia had been right—she was afraid. If she wasn’t able to admit the past, she was doomed to repeat the same mistakes.

She would pray for forgiveness. She would ask God for guidance. But she was too weak a woman to face Seth Miller.

In the drowsy stillness of her bedroom, she took out pen and paper. She would write to her brother and tell him she was coming home. Thomas, filled with expectation and joy with his coming marriage, would take her in. Like a maiden aunt or an elderly widow, she would remain in the background in the bride’s new home. Hannah would offer advice only when solicited and never overstep her boundaries in Catherine and Thomas’ life. The farm belonged to her brother now.

No longer owning the farm didn’t bother her. Hannah didn’t care about deeds, or mortgages, or bills of sale. What did trouble her about
returning to Lancaster County was leaving her sister, her dear nieces and nephews, quiet little Phoebe, and most of all…Seth.

Seth would be the hardest burden to bear, but bear it she must. He did not care for her.

He did not love her.

And she could no longer stay here and be his friend.

S
eth’s determination to spend more time with his daughter had been easily implemented a day earlier. Together they had weeded the garden, cut lettuce for a salad, and pulled carrots, radishes, and onions. While Seth had cleaned the barn stalls, Phoebe had played with her doll on the hay bales. While Seth had oiled leather harnesses, Phoebe had helped by washing plastic egg cartons so they could be reused. And since it was far too hot and sunny to work the entire day, they swam in the pond and searched for crayfish along the riverbank. For supper they dined on hamburgers and muskmelon and opened the last jar of last year’s pickled beets. It had been a very good day.

Today would not be so simple. Yesterday’s blistering sun had dried out the hayfield. More of the same weather was predicted for tomorrow. If he cut the field today, the crop could finish drying on the Sabbath while he and Phoebe were at the preaching service. He could rake and start baling on Monday, and by next weekend plant seeds for his second crop.

But what should he do with an–almost–six–year–old who was more curious than any cat he’d ever met? Mrs. Lehman had sent a note with her son indicating she was well enough to resume her babysitting duties. But one day at home wasn’t enough time to cure anybody of anything.

“Phoebe,” he said, drawing her attention from the cornflakes, “your
daed
needs to cut hay this morning, and it’s too dangerous for you to ride on the harvesting implement with me. Do you think you could stay by yourself for a couple hours until lunchtime? You must remain in the house or on the porch. Do not go into any of the barns. You cannot try to cook anything on the stove or light any lamps. You can look at your picture books, play with the dollhouse I built for you, or rock on the porch swing. Nothing else. If you don’t think you can do this, I’ll take you to Mrs. Lehman’s for the day.”

Phoebe shook her head vigorously at the mention of the neighbor’s name.

“If you’re on the porch and someone comes up the driveway that you don’t know, go inside and lock the door. Do you understand?”

She nodded her head.

“We’ll eat lunch together under the willow tree, okay?” Another affirmative nod.

“If something happens…if you get sick, or if you need me to come home, you pull the rope on the farm bell real hard like you’ve done before. Can you do that, Phoebe?”

The shake of her head did nothing to quell the anxiety of leaving his child alone for a couple of hours. “I need you to say it, Phoebe. You must tell me that you understand the rules.”

Her dark eyes seemed to grow larger and rounder as she said in a scratchy but clear voice, “Yes,
daed.

Seth nodded and headed to the barn to hitch up his team of draft horses before he changed his mind. Phoebe was a good girl, but on a farm so many things presented a danger. He prayed hard for the safety and protection of his only child.

When Seth returned to the house at midday, he found his daughter safe and sound. But she wasn’t playing on the porch swing or with her dollhouse. Phoebe was sitting on the front room carpet with a pile of white picture cards scattered around her. Seth watched unseen from the doorway as she picked up a card and said the name in
two languages. “Barn,” she enunciated and then “
scheune,
” followed by “dog” and “
hund.
” One large card showed the full spectrum of the rainbow with each color identified in
Deutsch
and English. Another pictured numerals, along with corresponding dual names. Seth observed for several minutes, transfixed by the scene before him. He’d heard Phoebe say only three words in the past two years. Now she was speaking not only their Amish dialect of German, but also the language of the English world.

His heart swelled for his little girl and for the green–eyed woman who had spent so much time teaching her. Hannah. As if she didn’t have enough to do between tending her flock, building her wool business, and helping Julia run the household, she’d taken it upon herself to bring Phoebe’s voice back and prepare her for school while he had stuck his head in the sand like an ostrich.

Seth shook his head and kneeled down on the rug. He picked up a card to show her and asked, “What’s this, Phoebe?”

“Rabbit,” she enunciated, and then said, “
Kaninchen.
” A grin bloomed across her face.

The two of them remained in that position until they’d gone through the whole stack. Only six had stumped her. As they ate their sandwiches under the tree, Phoebe pointed out the sky, barn, tree, and grass and said their names clearly in both languages. She didn’t tell any longwinded stories like Henry, didn’t sing any church songs as Emma often did, and certainly didn’t screech at the sudden appearance of a spider like Leah, but hearing Phoebe say these words took many of Seth’s worries away.

“Did Aunt Hannah teach you these?” He tapped the cards into a neat pile.

She nodded and added softy, “
Jah.
” She spread the cards out again in the grass.

“That was nice of her to help you. Do you like Hannah?”

She nodded enthusiastically and then crawled into his lap. “
Jah,
I like Hannah.”

“Me too,” he whispered. He might have elaborated more on the subject, but at the moment speech was impossible. He had his girl back, healed from her silent sorrow, and he had found a woman to love again. Seth Miller was a fortunate man.

He just had an odd way of showing it.

After he put Phoebe down for a nap and instructed her to stay in her room, Seth returned to the hayfield. He cut until suppertime and then reheated leftovers Julia had sent before putting Phoebe to bed. When it was almost too dark to find his way, he walked back to the barn to check on his animals. His crop lay glistening in the moonlight. In tomorrow’s sunshine, the green sheaves would dry to become sweet feed for his livestock this winter.

Seth bathed in the cool river and prayed under the stars. He had so much to be thankful for. Every bone in his body hurt from fatigue and strain; his back muscles ached from jostling along the rutted rows; but Seth Miller loved being a farmer.

Tomorrow was the Sabbath—a much–needed day of prayer and rest. Since the preaching service would be at Simon’s, he would get to see Hannah Brown. He planned to thank her for providing Phoebe the incentive and encouragement to talk. And maybe he would have the guts to try one more time to win her heart.

Sunshine on the Lord’s Day was always a special blessing.

Julia rose before dawn to wash, dress, and take her pills. But most of the work to prepare for the service was done. Church would be held in one of the newer outbuildings with a concrete floor. The district had grown to twenty–five families, making the living room too small to handle the crowd. However, the front room was spotless, thanks to Hannah, for mothers nursing infants or anyone else who wished a quiet spot. The church wagon with benches and songbooks had arrived yesterday from the farm that had held the last service.
Men had stopped over after chores to set up the benches and tables that would hold the food. And what food there would be.

Hannah stayed up late roasting brisket for barbeque beef; Emma baked eight pies, both peach and apple; and Julia had made green bean and sweet potato casseroles with Leah’s help.

Seth, in his black Sunday hat, and Phoebe, in her white organdy
kapp,
arrived an hour before everyone else. The man looked far too worn out for someone his age.

“Seth Miller, did you cut all those acres of hay in one day?” Julia asked when he stepped inside the kitchen.


Jah,
it needed to be done. Who knows how long the weather will hold? Today the hay can dry, and Monday I’ll start baling.”

“You must be exhausted. Sit across the aisle from me so I can nudge you if you start to nod off.” Julia grinned as broadly as the pain allowed.

Seth poured a cup of coffee and sent Phoebe to find Leah. “With my
bruder
preaching the second sermon this morning, I won’t need any pinches to stay awake. He always inspires me with his message and the volume of his voice.”

“No one naps when Simon preaches.” Julia had always loved her husband’s sermons.

“I’d best see to the last of the preparations,” said Seth. “I brought my twenty–gallon water jug with the spigot and two packages of cups. It’s gonna be another hot one today.” He peered out the window at the thermometer. “Already eighty, and the sun’s still climbing in the sky.” His focus kept shifting from the backyard to the steps to the bedrooms to the front room doorway.

“You looking for someone?” Julia asked, moving to the counter for more coffee.

He raked a hand through his freshly washed hair with comb tracks still visible from his morning routine. “If you must know, my favorite, nosy sister-in-law, I’m waiting for Hannah to come down-stairs. I’d like a word with her before the service starts.”

Julia sipped the strong coffee. Sometimes it seemed to relieve more discomfort than the expensive medications. “She’s not up there. She did her chores very early, fixed us breakfast, and then walked over to talk to Mrs. Lee.”

“Mrs. Lee?” Seth raked his hair a second time while the back curled over his collar. “Your English neighbor?” he asked.

Julia noticed Seth needed a haircut, but there was no time for that now. “
Jah,
that’s right. Hannah said she would be back in plenty of time for the preaching.” She was encouraged that Seth still sounded interested in her sister. Their courtship path had been rockier than the riverbed lately.

“Why did she go talk to an English neighbor on a preaching Sunday?” he asked, bending his hat brim back and forth.

“I’m sure I don’t know. Despite your fond but accurate description of me, I didn’t ask her.”

“Of all the times for you to turn over a new leaf, Julia.” He shook his head and finished his coffee in a single gulp. Glancing out the window toward the barn, he poured himself another cup. “Confound it. I don’t like asking you this, but I’ve run into a brick wall with that sister of yours. She was talking about willow switches and telling lies, but I really didn’t know what she meant. I had promised Phoebe we would spend the day at our house, so that’s where I had to go. I think you were right about Phoebe. She was missing me— that’s why she had the so–called accidents. The last couple of nights her bed has been bone dry.”

BOOK: A Widow's Hope
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