An Amish Family Reunion (32 page)

“Good evening, Miss Miller. Any food left for a weary traveler from the western fringe of Winesburg?” Eli flashed a grin that nearly caused her knees to buckle.

“I believe we could scrape a few pots to fix another plate.” She stood stock-still with her perspiring hands clasped behind her back. She longed to throw her arms around him and give him a hug, considering the ordeal he’d gone through. Eli had saved his father’s life, according to reports from her uncle. He’d also taken over full duties on the farm and sent his sisters’ beaus home. He must be worried and exhausted yet incredibly relieved. However, Phoebe kept her arms behind her. The Amish seldom embraced, not even close loved ones. Such a display between friends and business partners would be beyond inappropriate. “Welcome, Eli. I’m glad you came…and I’m happy to see you.”

“Your cousin Leah extended an invitation to me through Rose. A rather roundabout way to hear about a cookout, but I’d take any opportunity to see you.”

Mortification crept up her neck like heat rash. “I didn’t think you’d be able to leave your family or I would have invited you myself. How is your father? Has his condition improved?”

Eli pulled off his hat and ran a hand through his silky blond hair. “I didn’t think I’d be able to leave until the last minute. My dad came home from the hospital yesterday in a hired van. He’s quite a bit stronger, with a full arsenal of medications lined up on his dresser, but he still must take it easy. At least he’s home in his own bed with his wife fussing over him.” Eli clutched his hat to his chest like a shield of armor. “My
mamm
got several pages of dietary dos and don’ts along with his discharge papers. It took her an hour to read the new rules.”

Phoebe relaxed with Eli’s cheery mood. “What did she say about that?”

“Let’s see.” He thought for a moment before ticking off on his fingers. “‘This isn’t enough food to keep a bird alive.’ ‘If he can’t have butter, margarine, honey, jam, or peanut butter, what can a man spread on his toast?’ And, ‘A palm-sized serving of baked chicken or fish is what we call an appetizer.’”

She laughed as the last of her uneasiness drained away. “It’s a good thing he didn’t come with you. We have fried chicken, buttered corn, bacon potato salad, and chocolate cream pie for dessert.”

His face brightened. “Then why are we standing around here talking? I’m so hungry the old nag pulling my buggy started to look tasty.”

Phoebe punched his arm as they walked toward the table. “I know you love that horse and wouldn’t eat her if you were dying of starvation.”

“I do like old Bess, but she isn’t the one I love.” He acted as though he would punch her arm too, but then he pulled back at the last moment.

After that comment, the entire county tilted to the left under her feet. Why did he say such things? Amish men never spoke the flowery, romantic words on English greeting cards. They seldom said “I love you” to their wives, even if they felt that way down to their toes.

As they reached the table, every pair of eyes turned in their direction. Phoebe cleared her throat. “Some of you already know my friend from preaching services, but for those who don’t, this is Eli Riehl.”

Heads bobbed in Eli’s direction while a few called out welcomes. Then everyone resumed where they’d left off in their own conversations. Eli slipped onto the bench between Matthew and Uncle Simon. While Phoebe fixed him a heaping plate, Eli joined into the men’s discussions without an ounce of shyness. She set the mound of food in front of him and sat down clumsily.

“Goodness, Phoebe. Did you give me everything that was leftover?” he asked. Nevertheless, he picked up his fork and began to eat ravenously.

“You said you were hungry…” she explained, but the other conversations drowned out her reply. Phoebe took dainty bites of her dinner, more for something to do than because she was still hungry. Eli’s surprise visit had given her a strange case of nerves—an ailment that seemed to hit women more often than men.

Uncle Simon waited until his newest guest had finished supper before he rose to his feet. The party soon broke up, with everyone hurrying off in different directions. Dad and Ben took the back path home to chores. Uncle Simon headed toward the cow barn to join Henry for evening milking. Jonah and James continued their discussion of the sweet corn harvest near the tire swing, while the women stacked and carried dishes to the house. Phoebe felt torn between helping them and entertaining her guest. Eli’s hypnotic dark eyes locked on hers like sticky tape, making the choice rather easy.

“Would you like to walk to the pond?” she asked. “At this time of day, fish jump up to catch bugs hovering above the surface.”

“I can’t think of a more appealing after-dinner sight.” His grin mocked and flirted simultaneously. Eli offered his elbow once beyond eyeshot, which Phoebe promptly declined.

“I can walk without tripping, but thanks for your concern. Now that your belly is full, you can finish giving me a Riehl family update. How are you coping with your father’s business?”

“Dad reminds me each morning what to do when I sit with him. I eat breakfast with him in his room. Work is pretty much caught up, thanks to my sisters’ suitors. They managed the farm while I stayed at the hospital. Nearby district members cut, raked, and baled our last crop of hay. Rose is good with numbers, so she is helping
mamm
keep the books and records. But now that dad is home, I’ve taken over all his chores.”

They reached the bench near the rickety fishing dock. Phoebe sat, smoothed her skirt, and peered up, feeling uneasy. Although this had to be the most peaceful spot on Uncle Simon’s farm, the air seemed to be filled with the scent of impending doom. Like an animal that could sense a coming storm, she gripped the seat to brace herself. “I hope we’ll soon hear good news from the publisher. That should lift your spirits and give you something to look forward to.”

His expression became a combination of disappointment and pity. “That’s the other reason I came here tonight. The first was to see you, and the second was to tell you my decision.” He plopped down on the bench, close to her yet still separate. “I’m not going to kid myself about writing children’s books for a living. My dad needs me to step into his shoes, and that’s what I need—no, I want to do. From this day forward I’m Eli Riehl, full-time swine and beef farmer of Riehl and Son Swine and Beef Farm.” He spoke with conviction as his lips pulled into a forced smile.

“But what of our story? It’s being considered by a publishing house right now.” She stood and began to pace the dock, no longer capable of remaining immobile on the bench. This news was too unsettling to accept sitting down.

He sighed. “They will most likely say thanks, but no thanks. And in the unlikelihood they want our story, it doesn’t change anything regarding my role at home.”

She glared as though he’d suddenly changed into an unfamiliar creature. What happened to the happy-go-lucky man who enjoyed weaving tales guaranteed to bring a tear or a chuckle to everyone within earshot? The man who always chose the fanciest words to express himself could live contentedly turning hogs into honey-glazed hams? “But we planned to hire someone to run your
daed
’s farm from the sales profits, freeing up your time to write more books.”

His face filled with compassion. “Phoebe, I researched the amount a children’s book author could hope to earn using the library’s computer. It isn’t nearly enough to pay a farm foreman. And I can’t wait to see what our books might earn, especially with a first release. My family needs my help now.”

There wasn’t a hint of disappointment or regret in his words, but she couldn’t hold back her frustration any longer. “Well, where does your decision leave me?”

He took her hand tenderly into his. “This changes nothing between us, Phoebe. You must know I care about you. There’s no reason we can’t continue to court properlike. I can take you home from singings and preaching and from social events. Even a farmer takes nights off now and then.” He threw his hair back from his face and set his hat back in place.

She yanked her hand back. “You’re making every decision by your lonesome, aren’t you? I think this changes everything.”

If words could hang in the air like twinkling stars, those five certainly were doing so tonight.

He sat up straighter, his carefree slouch gone. “Was I mistaken about your feelings for me? Did I read your signs all wrong?” His poignant question joined the five words in the humid August air.

“I didn’t say that. It’s just that you’ve dropped this on me all at once. I need time to think.” She stepped back when he reached for her hand again…and almost landed in Uncle Simon’s pond. “No, Eli. You’ll have to excuse me, but I need to sort things out before I say or listen to anything else.” With that she pivoted and ran like a child frightened by thunder toward Aunt Julia’s house. Past the barn she veered down the back path toward the bog, not slowing down until she reached her own home. Breathless, exhausted, and confused, Phoebe broke into childish tears of self-pity.

Leah crawled out of bed, trying not to disturb her slumbering husband. Despite an exhausting yet satisfying day, she couldn’t sleep. But it wasn’t the heat or humidity that made her toss and turn under the damp sheet. The possibility of picking up roots and resettling in a northern state frightened her. Yes, she should turn the matter over to God. And she should abandon her will to the One whose plan for His children was perfect, but good old human nature kept getting in the way.

She pulled a full-length apron over her nightgown, added a sweater and
kapp
, and crept down the steps as quietly as possible. Picking up her mother’s Bible and the battery lantern from the hook, she closed the front door behind her. The porch swing beckoned with nostalgic memories of summer nights gone by. How she enjoyed being back home during the past week. As much as she loved Jonah, there was something protective and nurturing in the place where she grew up, as though she could release the breath she’d been holding for months. But immersing herself in the protective womb of her parents’ love wasn’t helping her face a difficult decision.

Mamm
told her to turn to prayer, but what could she say that didn’t sound immature and self-serving
? Dear God, please don’t make me move to Wisconsin. I want to stay in Winesburg close to my mother for the rest of my life
. Considering she’d been given a fine husband along with a baby on the way, Leah shuddered at such a pathetic plea. For several minutes she closed her eyes and cleared her mind of all thoughts—selfish or otherwise. She listened to the night sounds of frogs, crickets, and owls and breathed in the fragrance of the climbing roses from the trellis. The breeze sent a shiver up her spine as she pulled her sweat-soaked gown away from her skin. Far away a dog barked, a train whistle signaled as it approached a railroad crossing, and a rumble of thunder warned of an approaching storm. But Leah sat, limp and silent, until the pressure in her chest finally lifted. When she opened her eyes, the total darkness held no danger or mystery—it had become an extension of the Miller family cocoon.

Switching on the lantern, she opened the Bible to the book of Ruth. She sought comfort and direction from a woman who faced a far more difficult situation than she.
Don’t ask me to leave you and turn back. Wherever you go, I will go; wherever you live, I will live. Your people will be my people, and your God will be my God. Wherever you die, I will die, and there I will be buried
. When Leah finished the chapter, she lowered her face into her hands. Tears dropped onto the book’s worn pages, so she set it aside. Ruth demonstrated courage despite far greater tribulations than Leah faced, and she was rewarded for her faithfulness.

Any leftover shame from her self-absorption vanished. Instead, hope and a renewed sense of purpose filled her heart. Life was filled with detours and roadblocks. Wisconsin would simply become another bump in the road. Leah didn’t need to pray for guidance or ask for specific direction. Her prayers had already been answered. She leaned back in the swing to enjoy the nocturnal serenade before returning to bed.

“Leah, what’s wrong? Was I snoring? Don’t you feel well?” An anxious Jonah Byler stepped onto the porch, letting the screen door slam behind him. “I awoke and found you gone. When you didn’t return soon, I became concerned.” He studied her face as though searching for clues.

Leah patted the spot beside her on the swing. “Sit,
ehemann
. All is well. I couldn’t sleep. Maybe it’s the heat, maybe I’m overtired, but I came downstairs so I wouldn’t disturb you.” She folded her hands over her protruding belly.