An Amish Family Reunion (18 page)

Leah wasn’t close to James Davis’ sister. Nevertheless, she could have kissed the tall English woman when she pulled up to the curb ten minutes later. And then, almost before Leah knew it, Lily was pulling to a stop in front of their home.

Their farm had never looked so good. The hired employees had mowed the lawn around the house and watered her plants. Everything else could wait until morning. While Jonah checked on his heifers and baby calves, Leah ate four slices of buttered toast and drank two cups of tea. In the kitchen that had been Esther Burkholder’s and then Joanna Byler’s, she sat alone, relishing the thought that the kitchen was fully hers, at least for the next couple of weeks. Wisconsin was a fine place for those whose hearts were there, but
her
heart was here in Ohio. The million-dollar question was: Where was Jonah’s heart?

When he sat down for breakfast the next morning, her husband seemed like his old self.

“Everything sorted out in the dairy barns?”

“Right as rain.” He kissed Leah’s cheek before settling down with his own mug. “All milk pickups were on schedule, plus we have plenty of sharp and mild cheddar ready for delivery. Mom will be pleased when she returns.”

“How long will she stay at Harriet’s?” she asked, placing a plate of fried eggs and bacon in front of him.

“Who knows? She was downright evasive when I asked her. She and her sister have big plans for the week. They are taking the boys to the Dells for a couple days. My mom, a tourist—can you believe it? She plans to send us a postcard.” Jonah shook his head. “She sure is glad to be back home.”

Leah inwardly cringed, hearing him refer to Wisconsin that way. “I understand the winters are harsher there, much snowier and colder. She wouldn’t like that with her thin blood. She sleeps with socks on almost year-round.”

Jonah devoured his food. “Maybe a bit colder, but I don’t recall Wisconsin being much snowier.”

“According to the almanac—” she began, but the sound of a car door slamming outside the window curtailed her argument.

He downed his coffee and refilled his mug. “I’ll see who that is. Thanks for the vittles,
fraa
. Yours put Aunt Harriet’s to shame. Now you’d better start baking. The world cannot survive without your pies for another day.” He nuzzled her
kapp
with another kiss and strode out the door, mug in hand.

Fuming, Leah watched Jonah approach a well-dressed
Englischer
. The woman wore a fire-engine-red suit, red high heels, and a black wide-brimmed hat with a fake red flower attached. Her outfit gave the word “fancy” new meaning. What could she want with the Bylers? Most people who stopped to buy cheese wore sneakers and jeans. Leah watched until the two disappeared into the cavernous milking parlor.
You’d better watch where you step with those expensive shoes
, she thought, scraping her breakfast into the compost bucket. Unlike her husband, her appetite had remained behind in Hancock.

Thirty minutes later, elbow deep in baking, Leah heard a car engine roar to life and then the crunch of driveway gravel. Jonah resolved her quandary when he dashed into the house. “Leah!” he shouted. “Do you know who that woman was?” He didn’t pause for guesses. “A real estate agent from Wooster. Do you know how much she thinks we could get for this farm?”

Leah blinked, speechless.

Again, he allowed no opportunity for speculation had she desired, but announced an enormous dollar amount. The bag of flour slipped from her fingers, landing with a thud on the clean sheet of parchment paper on the counter.

“Can you believe it? Wait until I tell Mom. She’s not going to believe it. I think I’ll write her a letter right now.” He disappeared into the front room.

Leah wasn’t sure if it was the shock over Jonah penning a letter or the exorbitant price mentioned by the Realtor, but something made her sick. She barely reached the bathroom when the small amount of breakfast she’d eaten made a hasty reappearance.

E
mma clutched her purse in her lap and glanced over her shoulder at her smiling sons. Both boys were strapped into car seats in the backseat of Lily Davis’ truck.

“Are you going to have fun at Grandma’s?” asked Aunt Lily, peering at them in the rearview mirror. She received dual affirmative nods, although the baby only mimicked his brother. “I want you to tell me about it on the way home, okay, Jamie?”

The boy nodded again as Emma turned to face her sister-in-law. “Thanks for the lift to my parents’. I love being able to spend the day with my mom. She’s been down in the dumps lately with two of her children out of state.”

“Well, Leah’s home now. I picked her and Jonah up a few nights ago. And I pass your folks’ place on my way to the OSU Extension Center, Emma. I’ll be lecturing all day on bovine husbandry. You might as well enjoy some free taxi service while I’m living at home for the summer.”

“I must admit the drive to Winesburg by buggy seems to get longer every time.”

“That’s because the two of them get restless.” Lily grinned at her nephews in the mirror. For the remainder of the drive, she entertained Emma with amusing tales from her life as a country vet.

“Thanks, Lily,” said Emma at the Miller farm. “I’ll see you later when your workshop is over.”

Her sister-in-law waved goodbye as she drove away. Emma picked up Sam and took little Jamie’s hand and headed toward the house. Once she and the boys stepped across the threshold, Julia scolded her with the first words from her mouth.

“Emma! Why on earth didn’t you tell me you were coming?” Julia stood by the sink looking as angry as a wet hen. “I have nothing baked but whole wheat bread! Not a cookie in the house.”

“Hullo, dear
mamm. Jah
, I’m tickled to see you too.” Emma smiled as she set the baby’s carrier on a kitchen chair.

Julia smiled at the sarcasm. “Make yourself comfortable while I rustle up some chocolate chip cookies. That is, if you can stay more than an hour. Those boys look thinner. Aren’t they eating for you?” Julia limped to the cupboard and began taking out sugar, flour, and baking chips.

So like
mamm.
She writes letters containing poignant pleas to come visit, and then she spends the first hour scolding
. “They eat like their father—often and in great quantities. I can’t keep chewy peanut butter granola bars in the house.”

“What are those?” Julia pulled the basket of brown eggs from the refrigerator.

“Exactly what the name implies, plus they’re coated with chocolate. James and Jamie love them.”

“They don’t sound healthy. Do you not bake from scratch, daughter?”

“They are very healthy, with oats, peanuts, peanut butter, honey, and all natural ingredients. And of course I bake from scratch, but Grandma Davis got them hooked on the bars.”

“Hooked?” Julia snorted as she poured glasses of milk.

Emma settled into the chair next to the baby and drew a bottle from her diaper bag. “Did you think we’d have a snack and let you watch?” she asked little Sam. She gazed into her son’s blue eyes as a wave of emotion stole her breath away.

“
Vas kommed fon nawtur vare gude fur dine libe un sael
,” said Julia to Jamie as she set down his cup of milk.

The child blinked his huge eyes several times.

“Isn’t your
mamm
teaching you the language of your heritage?” she asked him in
Deutsch
again.

Jamie continued to stare at his maternal grandmother without reply.

Emma leaned over and patted his arm. “
Grossmammi
told you ‘What comes from nature is good for body and soul,’ like your milk.”

The child picked up his plastic cup and drank heartily, wiping his mouth on his sleeve.

“Then she asked you if I was teaching you any
Deutsch
,” explained Emma.

Jamie grinned at Julia and nodded yes. “
Ich vill some kuchlen
.” In their Amish dialect he told her he wanted some cookies.

Julia laughed while measuring sugar into the bowl. “
Se sind ready
eb un shippley si schwanszwie mol shittla con
.”

Jamie looked to Emma, who translated the words into English. “She said they’ll be ready before a lamb can shake his tail twice.”

Julia banged her wooden spoon against the bowl. “I don’t understand, daughter, why my grandson knows so little of our language. Your New Order district speaks
Deutsch
, the same as Old Order.”

Emma lifted her youngest from the car seat to set in her lap. “That’s my fault. Their father’s Pennsylvania German is still not great, although it is improving…slowly. We usually speak English around the table and during evening devotions. I have been teaching Jamie his prayers in English.”

“No, Emma. That is not how it’s done!” Color rose up Julia’s neck into her pale face. “To learn
Deutsch
, they must hear it continually—not this going back and forth between the two. Once the boys start school will be soon enough for English, after they’ve mastered
our
language.” If she cracked the eggs into the bowl any more vigorously, shells would pulverize. “If you ask me, your
ehemann
would have learned the language by now if
Deutsch
was the only language spoken in his household.”

“As you pointed out, it is
his
household. But I will discuss your idea with James tonight at dinner.” Emma walked to the window to rein in her temper. She knew her mother was right, but why must she approach any discussion this way? Instead of offering helpful suggestions, she still treated Emma like a child or teenager coming home late from a date during
rumschpringe
. At what age did a daughter become an adult woman in her mother’s eyes? What could be pleasant afternoons often turned into a defensive parlaying between the two strong-willed Miller women.

But Emma knew one thing for certain: She
was
her mother—or rapidly turning into her. And despite
mamm
’s doggedness, there was no place on earth she would rather be than here in her warm, sweet-smelling kitchen.

Phoebe had become proficient at completing odious tasks without a single roll of her eyes. When she helped her mother scrub out the chicken coop, did she complain? No, and she didn’t balk when the clothesline broke, sending freshly laundered sheets into the dust and dirt. As she rewashed the sheets, she contemplated her afternoon visit to the library to see her friend and business partner, Eli Riehl. During the past seven days, she’d completed five double-page illustrations, each portraying the rude cow interacting with other barnyard residents. The cow was a loathsome bully who delighted in name-calling and hurting the feelings of other animals. She verbally abused the dog, horse, pig, goat, and rabbit before she landed in trouble with no friends to call on for help. Phoebe couldn’t wait to show Eli her sketches for the opening scenes, and she practically sang during morning chores.

“
Mamm
, do you remember I’m going to the library this afternoon?” she asked between bites of a bologna sandwich.

“
Jah
, but I will drive you into town.”

“Why?” Phoebe sputtered, choking on the suddenly dry bread.

“Because I have a doctor’s appointment and your dad needs the other buggy to go to Wilmot. That’s in the opposite direction.” Hannah peered at her curiously while fixing sandwiches for Ben and Seth.

“Oh…okay.” Phoebe sipped some tea to wash down the sandwich. “I just didn’t want you to trouble yourself unnecessarily.”

“No trouble. I’ll come back to the library when I’m finished at the doctor’s and after I stop at Ruby’s Country Store. She’s running a sale on heavier-weight fabrics because they’re out of season. You’ll have plenty of time for whatever you plan to do there for the second week in a row.” Her expression of curiosity intensified with the lifting of one eyebrow.

Phoebe sighed, knowing the time had come for full disclosure. “When you’re finished with your errands, you can head for home. I’m meeting a friend there, and I’m sure he will drive me home afterward.”

Hannah’s head swiveled around so fast she easily could have suffered whiplash. “He? Your friend is a
boy
? Who is he?” She stopped making sandwiches and dropped into the chair next to Phoebe’s.

“His name is Eli Riehl—”

“You met Robert Riehl’s son? Of Riehl and Son Beef and Swine Farm? Oh, my. They have the best-tasting smoked hams in the county. My mouth starts watering just thinking about their honey-maple glaze.”