Never Far From Home (The Miller Family 2) (10 page)

Emma nodded as they followed the other two into the sheep barn. Once inside, all questions regarding seasonal workers, farm management, or loggerheads were forgotten. Her lower jaw dropped as her mouth gaped open. The huge sheep facility was brightly painted with clean pine stalls, fresh sawdust on the floor, and deep beds of straw in the pens. Light and airy, it smelled better than any sheep barn she’d ever been in.

“My word,” she murmured.

“What lovely accommodations,” Aunt Hannah said wryly.

“Yeah, much too nice for sheep,” the elder Davis said. “But they are what this farm started with one hundred twenty years and many generations ago. So we maintain them in high style.”

Hannah and Emma walked around in awe. The well-designed building had gathering pens, sorting pens, a forcing pen, and chutes. With plenty of ventilation and illumination, there were a dozen jugs for indoor winter lambing, so ewes and lambs could easily bond. The water tanks, salt blocks, and feeding troughs were clean and plentiful. They even had a room the visiting vet could use to treat sick animals, while the shearing room was a stainless steel wonder. Emma wouldn’t have been able to even imagine such convenience. Aunt Hannah also was wide-eyed and silent as they wandered from area to area.

They took the remainder of the tour riding in an open jeep to save time. Without getting out of the vehicle, they drove past cattle barns, milking facilities, horse barns, corrals, and an indoor arena. They took a dirt lane through alfalfa fields, apple orchards, and around two ponds and one bass-stocked lake. They crossed a rushing river through a covered bridge to reach the higher pastures for cows and sheep.

By the time they settled into wicker rockers on the screened porch for their afternoon refreshments, Emma and Hannah were exhausted from looking, listening, and learning.

“I’ll bet Dad and Jamie wore you two out,” Lily stated, handing around glasses of iced tea and fresh-baked muffins.

“
Jah
,” Emma said, blushing a deep rose color, “but we especially enjoyed seeing your sheep barn.”

“I hope you’ll forgive me, Mrs. Miller, Emma,” Mr. Davis apologized. “I get a little carried away showing off the farm. I can’t take much credit. My dad and grandfather built most of what you see. We just try to keep it up, adding something new whenever necessary.”

Emma noticed that her aunt was eating her muffin quicker than usual, as though anxious to leave. She too suddenly felt like a fish flapping around on the pond bank. James kept watching her as though she might bolt down the walk to their buggy. The two guests finished their snack in record time.

“These are delicious muffins, Lily. Thank you for your hospitality, especially for taking time from your studies,” Hannah said graciously.

“You’re welcome,” said Lily. “Please stop by any time you’re in the area. We love company.”

“It gives us an excuse to take a break from chores,” added her father.

“Thank you again, Mr. Davis, for the tour, but now we must start for home.” Hannah stood up abruptly, smiled, and walked down the steps.

“I’ll bring your horse around and hitch her up,” Mr. Davis said, following Hannah off the porch.

Emma met James’ gaze for a moment, understanding how a deer might feel during hunting season. She turned toward Lily. “Nice meeting you…goodbye.” Heading toward the buggy, she forced herself to walk while every instinct told her to run.

“Emma, wait up a minute.” James grabbed at her sleeve halfway down the path.

She shot him an annoyed look and pulled back her arm. Once she knew the elders wouldn’t overhear, she said rather crisply, “I can’t imagine why you wanted us to see your farm, unless it was only to show off.”

James’ face sagged while he dropped his arms to his side. “No, it’s not like that at all.”

Emma perched one hand on her hip. “You couldn’t have seen anything of interest in our small flock. And we can no more benefit from what we’ve seen today than we could from a visit to the moon.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “I wasn’t trying to show off, Emma. If the truth be told, I just wanted to see you again and couldn’t think of any other way to accomplish that.”

Emma’s mouth dropped open while a blush rose up her neck. She felt herself turn pink up to her hairline. Nodding politely, she mumbled, “I see, James. That’s a bit different. Well, now you’ve seen me.”

With that, she ran to the buggy and climbed in, forgetting all about being ladylike. When Mr. Davis finished hitching up the horse, Aunt Hannah slapped the reins on its back and Emma waved goodbye. She didn’t dare breathe until they were halfway down the lane to the county road. Only then did she glance back through the buggy window.

James Davis Jr. stood soldier stiff where Emma had left him in the yard. He was waving back and forth forlornly like a traveler stranded on a foreign shore.

J
ames watched the buggy turn onto the highway feeling oddly ashamed. Neither he nor his dad had meant to brag about the size or complexity of their farm, yet he knew that’s how it must have seemed to Emma and her aunt.

Why hadn’t he realized that such economic disparity, besides the cultural differences, might cause hard feelings? But how else could he get to know Emma Miller better? Since meeting her in Mrs. Dunn’s store, that’s all he thought about. Emma wasn’t anything like the other girls he knew. And the fact she was Amish was only part of it.

The girls he knew through his church—Sunday school classes, vacation Bible school, and now youth meetings—he had grown up with. A person seldom develops romantic notions for someone they have known since playing in the sandbox. They were his friends, but he felt the same toward them as he did toward Lily.

And the girls from school only seemed interested in clothes, makeup, and guys with fast cars, in that order. They achieved good grades solely to get into prestigious colleges, considered shopping a competitive sport, and flaunted their designer purses or shoes to whomever would listen. He had no trouble getting dates in the past, especially not since he’d bought his flashy truck. With his paycheck from the farm, he could afford to take dates out to expensive Canton restaurants for dinner or to the movies. He’d never been shy about buying flowers or small gifts—being generous always made him happy.

But as soon as a girl heard he wasn’t interested in playing college sports or even going to college, they looked at him as though he were addlebrained.
Why does everyone have to be the same?
He’d enjoyed playing wide receiver for his high school football team. Sports had taught him discipline, self-control, and teamwork—the whole was greater than the sum of its parts. But he had no delusions about college athletics. He didn’t want to be just another farm boy, trying to compete in a world without possessing the necessary passion.

James loved working the farm. And unlike most rural young men, he wasn’t ashamed to admit it. Maybe that’s why he was so taken with Emma Miller. She was passionate about building her flock, increasing her wool production, and earning a living by raising livestock. She shared his interests and ambitions…besides having the bluest eyes and prettiest face in Ohio. She needed no beauty shop streaks with her natural highlights from the sun. And no blusher or lipstick could improve her peaches-and-cream complexion or soft rosebud lips.

Peaches
—that’s what he had smelled during the jeep ride. And the memory of her fragrance, the feel of her hand, and the sound of her laughter would stay with him for a long time. But standing in the middle of the road, staring after a buggy that was probably halfway home wouldn’t get his chores done or, more important, figure out how to see her again.

He went searching for his dad and found him in the indoor arena with one of the horse trainers. This was as good a time as any for some advice. “What did you think about Emma…and her aunt?”

James Davis Sr. took his eyes off the new colt long enough to cast his son an odd glance. “I think they’re very nice, but they may have been overwhelmed by our operation. I know you had no intention of embarrassing them, but nevertheless they were uncomfortable.”

“That’s not what I had planned,” he said, loud enough to draw the trainer’s attention. “I like Emma. She’s really nice. Not that many gals I know are interested in livestock, let alone sheep.”

His dad slanted him another glance, this one a bit sly. “She is awfully pretty too, but I suppose you already noticed that small detail.” His eyes crinkled into a web of tiny lines as he lifted his boot to the lowest rail.

“Yeah, I noticed, but that’s not why I like her.” James Jr. labored to find the right words. “She’s different from other girls.”

“Andy, don’t give him so much slack,” his dad called to the trainer. “Tighten up that lead.” The trainer had the colt on a long lunging rope. To his son, he said, “Emma’s more than a little different. She lives in a separate world from ours.”

James held his tongue. If he argued, he might betray his emotions. And since he really didn’t know how he felt about Emma, that wouldn’t be a good idea. The two men silently watched the spirited year-old colt fight against the rope for several minutes.

“Are you gonna stand here and chaw all day?” Dad asked. “Don’t I give you enough work to do?” His laughter echoed off the arena’s high metal roof.

“Yeah, I’ve got plenty to do. I’ll check the feed order, update the inoculation records, and drive up to where those loggers are taking out some black walnut trees. I want to make sure they cut down only those I tagged and don’t damage anything with their trucks or equipment.”

“Good idea. I’ll see you at supper,” said James Sr.

“Not tonight. I’m driving over to Sam Yoder’s after work to see what he’s up to. I haven’t talked to him for a while.”

His dad leveled him a steady look and then grinned. “I just figured out why you made friends with that pretty Amish gal. I never took you for a matchmaker, son, but that’s a right nice thing to do.”

James nodded and then hurried off to his chores. Better to let that particular misconception alone for now, but fixing Emma Miller up with one of his Amish friends was the last thing on his mind.

Sam Yoder was washing mud off tractor tires when James arrived at his farm. The Yoders lived about ten miles away, closer as the crow flies. Because the family was New Order Amish, they used diesel tractors and other mechanized equipment for farming and had electricity in their barns.

“Hey, Jamie, long time no see,” called Sam. He turned off the hose and dried his hands on his pant legs.

“It’s been a while, way too long.” They shook hands, never having adapted the habit of “man hugs” like some men their age. After preliminary updates on spring planting, news from mutual friends, and how the Indians looked in the new baseball season, James finally broached the subject he’d been mulling over. “Tell me again, Sam. How would you go about meeting Amish girls who weren’t from your district…let’s say, that were Old Order?”

Amish folk in Holmes County tended to socialize among themselves, especially the more conservative Old Order, the largest of the Amish sects. However, occasionally fund-raisers and other social events were held that welcomed all districts. Even
Englischers
were sometimes invited.

Sam began a slow smile. “When did you start taking an interest in my lack-of-love life?”

“It’s not
your
love life I’m concerned with,” James said, shoving his hands deep into his pockets.

Sam’s grin now reached from ear to ear. “Is that right? And who is the lucky lady that James Jr. has set his eye on?”

“Things are still uncertain, but I promise when I figure this out, you’ll be the first to know.”

“Fair enough.” Sam scratched the stubble on his chin as though deep in thought. “Well, come to think of it, my mom mentioned a big volleyball party over in Winesburg next Saturday. She’s always pressuring me to socialize more.”

James hoped his face didn’t reveal his excitement over the name of the town hosting the event. “What will that be like?” he asked.