An Amish Family Reunion (33 page)

Jonah sat, slipping his arm around her shoulders. He tried drawing her head to his chest but she resisted.

“I’ve been reading the book of Ruth. And it’s helped me come to a decision. If your mother sells the farm and wishes us to move to Wisconsin, I’m not going to argue. Where you go, Jonah, I will follow. We’ll start a new life for ourselves in the cheese capital of the world. Those folks probably eat as much pie as Ohio folks.”

Even in thin lantern light she saw his incredulity. After a moment’s hesitation, he said, “My mother doesn’t own the Byler dairy farm, Leah. I do. Before he died,
grossdawdi
left the business and land to me.”

Darkness crowded in as she stared, blinking and confused. “Joanna doesn’t own the Burkholder farm?” The query underscored her desperation to hear his statement again.

“She does not. At her suggestion,
grossdawdi
wrote a will naming me as his sole beneficiary. Mom didn’t want the headache as she looked toward her golden years.” He laughed. “Those were her exact words. So if you were troubled about her selling, you should have asked me sooner.” He pushed one foot against the floorboards to start the swing moving.

She shook her head as though waking from a nightmare. How much stress and anxiety could she have avoided if she hadn’t sat meek and quiet, stewing in her own juices? Laying her head on his shoulder, she whispered, “Truer words were never spoken. I should embroider some kind of reminder in the center of our quilt.” Then a stray thought crossed her mind. “And you, Jonah? What are your plans regarding the farm? I know you enjoyed your visit home very much. Would you like to start fresh in Wisconsin someday?”

His words caressed as softly as a kiss. “If I did, I would discuss the matter with you and not let you come home from quilting to a Realtor’s sign in the front yard. But no, the Burkholder farm is now Byler Dairy. I love it here and have no desire to pull up stakes and start over. Should I ever change my mind, you would be the first to know.”

Thank You, Lord. My prayers have been answered
. “I wouldn’t like moving away from
mamm
, not with the
boppli
on the way. I’m willing to go, but I prefer not to.”

“That’s understandable. Julia would chase me with a stick if I took you away since Matthew lives in New York and Emma is almost in the next county. Ohio is my home now.”

Leah felt every ounce of tension fade away. “What about Joanna? She misses her sister and the rest of her family. Do you think she’ll return to Hancock?”

“I can’t speak for her. She does sing the praises of Wisconsin often enough—everything from the taste of their goats’ milk to the taxation rate and the price of available farmland. She once asked me if I could find workers for her specialty cheese business. I assured her that with this economy, there are plenty of people looking for jobs.”

Leah yawned. Fatigue had settled into every bone and muscle. “Time for bed. After your reassurance, I should sleep sound as a baby tonight.”

Jonah pulled her to her feet. “No matter what my mother’s choice ends up being, you and I will raise an Ohio cheese-head and not one of the more famous varieties.”

The mental picture of an infant with a square block of cheddar beneath a white Amish
kapp
threw Leah into a fit of giggles. With Jonah helping her up the stairs and under the sheets, the giggles lasted until her head hit the pillow. Then she drifted into the deep, dreamless sleep of a child herself.

E
mma washed and dressed as quietly as a mouse. James was in the other twin bed, and her sons were in their sleeping bags, all still asleep…and she preferred they stay that way, at least for a little while. After last night’s cookout, with everyone piling into the kitchen at sunset for pie and coffee, she longed for some personal time with her
mamm
before pandemonium in the Miller household began anew.

Blessedly, when Emma reached the kitchen, Julia sat alone, sipping coffee with
The Budget
unopened on the table. She looked up with a crooked smile.

“Good morning. Is Leah still in bed?” Emma headed straight for the coffeepot.

“
Jah
. And it’s a good thing too. I heard her get up during the night to go outside. Probably the heat and a kicking
boppli
kept her awake.”

“I like having the kitchen to ourselves.” Emma noticed the breakfast preparations before carrying her mug to the table. Julia had placed bacon in one frying pan, sausage in another, while a bowl of pancake batter waited next to the stove’s drop-in griddle. She’d sliced a loaf of bread and filled a basket with fresh blueberry muffins. “Looks like you’re ready for the hungry masses,” said Emma. “I thought your daughters were in charge of meals, while you’d been assigned to linguistic and cultural acclimation.”

“Listen to your fancy talk. That must be Barbara Davis’ influence. I’m not even sure what you said.” Julia grinned wryly. “Someone needs to mix up the frozen orange juice.”

Emma jumped to her feet, but Julia grabbed her wrist. “Mix later. Sit with me a minute. I want to talk to my eldest daughter.”

Emma blew on her coffee and added two sugars, waiting patiently for
mamm
to be
mamm
.

“I heard James telling Jonah last night about visiting the local men’s prison.” Julia kneaded her hands like bread dough.

“He’s part of a men’s group that conducts Bible studies on Saturday mornings for the inmates. They take turns, but usually once a month Barbara drives him to Wooster to participate.”

Julia stared at her the way she’d done when Emma walked into the kitchen wearing lip gloss during her
rumschpringe
.

“The goal is for the men to continue attending church after their release from jail.” She hoped elaboration might mitigate her mother’s confusion.

Judging by Julia’s expression, it hadn’t. “Bible studies in English?”

“Of course in English. That’s the language the men speak.” Emma sipped her coffee for fortification. Grogginess wouldn’t serve with this particular morning discussion.

Julia nodded. “Has he two Bibles—one to take to do Barbara’s work and another for at home?”

Emma drained her mug and stood to get a refill, arranging her thoughts along the way. She wanted to tread carefully over this pond of thin ice. “It’s not Barbara’s work but his own, although her evangelical church performs a similar type of Christian outreach. I’ve explained before that New Order Amish takes the commission ‘Go and make disciples of all the nations’ more literally than Old Order. Our bishop encourages us to volunteer around the community, not just to other Amish families.” She filled her lungs with air, knowing her mother wouldn’t like the next part. “And the only Bible James possesses is in English. He uses it for personal reading and evening devotions with our family.”

Julia pursed her lips into a pout. “But he agreed to learn
Deutsch
and to teach his sons by example.”

“That’s true. And he’s made every effort to converse with the boys in the
Deutsch
spoken language. However, the Amish Bible is in High German—that’s another thing altogether. He has no time to learn to read written German, besides master
Deutsch
, with all his responsibilities on the farm.”

“But the Bible for New Order is the same as for Old. How does he understand the Scriptures during preaching service?”

“He gets the gist of it.” Emma heaped three teaspoons of sugar into her cup and stirred.

“The
gist
of it?” repeated Julia with disdain. “As though the Savior’s words were vague ideas instead of specific instructions?”

Emma bit the inside of her cheek, trying to tamp down her pique. “He takes his English Bible to service and follows along as the minister reads High German. The sermons are usually in
Deutsch
with some English words thrown in. He and the boys won’t miss out on anything. Little Jamie already owns a picture book of Bible stories given to him by Barbara.” Emma could have kicked herself the moment those words left her mouth.

“An English picture book?” Julia clucked her tongue like a hen at an empty grain trough.

“It’s important that Jamie knows about Jesus, no matter what the language.” She kept her voice soft and nonconfrontational. “The boys are learning the Amish language, thanks to your help, so they’ll have no trouble during church service when they’re older. And as for James? Considering how much he gave up when he left his former lifestyle and turned Amish, I believe he can be forgiven a Bible written in English.”

Julia stopped clucking. “I suppose you’re right, providing your bishop sees nothing wrong with English Scripture.”

“He does not.” Emma exhaled as the kitchen clouds began to clear. She topped off their mugs and lit burners beneath the pans of bacon and sausage. The sounds of human movement overhead drifted down the stairs. “Oh, before I forget, if you have any cast-off clothes or housewares, please set them aside for me. And if you have quilts I can sell to raise money, I would much appreciate those too. I’ve been spinning my poor fingers to the bone, weaving as many woolen sofa throws and lap robes as possible.”

“Have the Davises fallen on hard times?”

“Oh, no, nothing like that. I’ve organized a fund-raiser for the first weekend of September. I must return home right after the reunion to finish preparations. I’m doing my part to raise money for a mission trip to Haiti. James’ mom invited me to go—”

“Where on earth is Haiti?” interrupted Julia.

“It’s half an island in the Caribbean Sea. I think it’s close to Cuba. The other half is called the Dominican Republic.” That explanation provided no additional clarification.

“Why is Barbara Davis going there?”

“Haiti was hit by a terrible earthquake. You probably read about it in the paper. After almost two years, the living conditions are still appalling. She’ll join other workers rebuilding homes, schools, churches, and hospitals. The people still need water wells to be drilled, medical supplies, school materials—you name it. They suffered widespread poverty before the disaster hit. Christians will also have a chance to teach about a loving, merciful God while they’re there.” Emma smiled patiently.

“And Barbara wants
you
to go along—a little Amish gal from Holmes County? That’s no place for you. It doesn’t sound safe.” Julia shook her head like one of Henry’s balky horses.

Emma thought back on the sage advice from her beloved husband:
“We are our own family. We’ll serve the Lord in our own way.”
She breathed in and released the air slowly before replying. “First of all,
mamm
, I am not a little Amish gal. I’m a grown woman with children of my own. That’s why I intend to tell Barbara that I won’t be joining her in Haiti. My contribution to the cause will be the money I can raise between now and then. Thank you for your concern, but I’m fully capable of thinking for myself.” She smiled with as much love as she could muster.

Julia stared only for a moment. Then she rose to her feet and walked to the stove. “Good. That sets my mind at ease. And I have some quilts you could sell. I think I’ll get the ladies to throw one more together. And Leah can bake pies. Folks at a fund-raiser pay plenty for homemade pies. What about birdhouses? Would Henry’s handiwork bring in any money?” She began flipping sausage links while mentally tallying other goods and services she could donate.

Emma relaxed. One skirmish down, with the main battle yet to go.

Matthew had never felt as proud of his brother as he did that summer afternoon. Henry had sold two of his rescues, one of which had fetched a very fair amount. The men drove the farm wagon loaded with sacks of feed back from the grain elevator. After delivering the horses to their new owners, they made good use of their time and money in Mount Eaton.

“You drove a hard bargain on that Standardbred and won a great price.” Matthew flapped the reins above the Percherons’ backs.

“That mare will give them years of reliable service. There’s not an ornery bone left in her body. The new owners understand she doesn’t like to be harnessed beside another horse. Because they don’t haul heavy loads, they only needed a single buggy horse. They got a good deal compared to what that mare would bring at open auction.” Henry settled his hat on the back of his head to catch some direct sunlight. His orange freckles would become much brighter by tomorrow.