Never Far From Home (The Miller Family 2) (13 page)

“
Jah
, I do,” Emma agreed. “But it’s questions I need to ask. I want to pick Aunt Hannah’s brain.”

Julia looked aghast. “I don’t care for that expression, daughter. Where did you hear it? At that volleyball party?”

“Yes’m.” Emma set the last pan in the rack to dry.

“Don’t use it again,” Julia said. Then in a softer tone she added, “You may go to Hannah’s when your chores are done. Take that extra apple crumb pie on the windowsill. It’s Seth’s favorite. Be home in enough time to give Leah a hand with supper.”

Emma nodded and flew out the door to get the laundry off the line. If she hurried through her ironing, she’d have plenty of time with her aunt. Hannah would know what she should do. She had straightened out a hornet’s nest of problems with Uncle Seth before they were hitched last fall. If anyone could explain these strange feelings she had for an inappropriate match, it would be Aunt Hannah.

After all, she and Uncle Seth were still like two sweet lovebirds, roosting in the eaves, after almost a year.

Hannah lifted bedsheets off the line to fold, careful not to let them touch the ground. She was surprised a sudden storm hadn’t undone her hard work, considering how the rest of her day had gone. First, there was her monthly onset, reminding her once more she was not in a family way. Would she ever know the thrill and joy of a baby growing inside her? Would she one day be able to present Seth with another precious daughter like Phoebe, or his first son? An Amish farmer needed sons to help when backs grew stiff and eyesight faltered. Who would take over Seth’s farm and tend it with the same loving care?

Hannah sometimes felt selfish praying for a baby that might never come. Perhaps she should accept God’s will and devote herself to the family she’d been given. Then she remembered Elizabeth in the Bible, barren for years and finally becoming pregnant when very old.
If it be Your will, Lord, please don’t make me wait that long.

Second, the unexpected visit from her niece hadn’t set well with her. Emma had come asking questions about the new lambs, but Hannah quickly suspected another matter had motivated the girl to hike the mile between the farms. Emma had just attended her first social event. At first her amusing tales had reminded Hannah of her youth when everything seemed to conspire against a young woman. Emma had lost her new tennis shoes and had to come home in a worn, ill-fitting pair. She had dribbled mustard down her dress in front of her girlfriends. And she had to leave the party early since Simon feared the old horse might become confused after dark. But when Emma mentioned that the sheep farmer from Charm had been there with his Amish friend, Hannah had grown uneasy.

Emma was obviously looking for some sort of guidance or advice without asking specific questions. Emma needed to talk to her mother about these things. Yet Hannah knew Julia could sometimes be close-minded.

“Talk to your
mamm
about running around barefoot,” Hannah had directed. “Ask your
daed
if Old Order members are allowed to court New Order during
Rumschpringe
,” she had advised. But when Emma asked if God loved
Englischers
as much as Amish folk, Hannah’s reply had needed no deliberation. “Of course He does, but God is happiest when we listen to His Word and are obedient.”

That seemed to satisfy the girl, but it had left Hannah feeling guilty. She felt disloyal to Julia and fearful that her counseling might lead the girl astray.

History had shown she was no expert on the district’s
Ordnung
.

But how could she turn away her niece? She would not close off her relationship with Emma, because young people needed all the help they could get during this difficult period. Hannah would walk a careful line between the girl and Julia.

With the laundry down and folded, Hannah carried the basket toward the house. She spotted Seth and Phoebe strolling through tall grass on their way home for supper. He’d taken his daughter wading in the river because today had been very warm for the first week of June. Even though they were still beyond earshot, Hannah could tell Phoebe was talking up a storm. Her small hands gestured wildly to punctuate her sentences.

The sight warmed Hannah’s heart. As recently as last year the child had been mute, responding to questions with only shakes and nods of her head. If her animated speech was any indication, the little girl was fully healed.

The three Millers met at the porch steps. “We took off our shoes and went in the creek up to our knees,” Phoebe exclaimed. “
Daed
rolled up his pants and I held up my skirt. The water was cold, Ma.”

She apparently hadn’t held up her skirt very well since the fabric below her knees was sodden. “I’ll bet the water still felt good, didn’t it?” Hannah asked, smiling. “Go in and change, Phoebe, and put that dress in the laundry basket.” Hannah turned her attention to Seth. His face was already tanned despite the fact he seldom went outdoors without his hat.

“How soon before we eat?” he asked, toeing off his muddy boots on the porch. He would leave them outside by the door.

“
Eat?
You just ate yesterday! Are you hungry again already?” Hannah loved to tease him about his hearty appetite.

He winked and held the door open for her. “I can’t get enough of your good vittles,
fraa
. It’s all I think about out in the fields.”

“Ha-ha,” she said. “My cooking is only an improvement over yours.” Hannah set down the laundry basket in the hallway. “For tonight I have pot roast with carrots and potatoes on low simmer. It should be done in ten minutes.”

Seth headed straight to the refrigerator. “Turn up the heat,” he said, pouring them each a glass of iced tea. “I’ve got a meeting tonight. Let’s eat as soon as we can.”

Hannah turned up the propane burner and began to slice up vegetables for a salad. “A meeting, you say? What about?” she asked. Weekday meetings were rare. Men usually talked enough after preaching services, as did women, not to need time away from chores or family.

“The corn alliance. The county extension agent is coming out to discuss market conditions and tell us if any more land is available to lease in the area. The bishop should be there and probably both deacons.” Seth sat down at the table with his glass of tea.

Hannah noticed he looked more tired than usual. Perhaps the warmer nights were interfering with his sleep and would take some getting use to. “In that case,” she said, scraping the vegetables into a bowl from the cutting board, “I’ll set the table and we’ll eat soon. We can drop Phoebe at Julia’s for Emma to watch and then be on our way. I wonder what my sister thinks about—”

The expression on Seth’s face curtailed the remainder of her question. “There’s no reason for Phoebe to go to Julia’s. This meeting is for men.” He spoke stiffly as he arched his spine against the chair back.

She pulled the roaster off the heat and cautiously lifted the lid. “I know better than to speak at one of these meetings,
ehemann
, but I see no harm in women sitting in the back, listening. I’ll be quiet as a mouse.”

“I know you would be, but you cannot come, Hannah. The bishop said men only, so men only it will be.” Seth popped a baby carrot from the salad bowl into his mouth.

Hannah pulled off her apron and tossed it down on the counter. “The decisions made at these secret meetings affect the women too. We need to know if families will be eating boiled potatoes with fried eggs all winter long. We could start putting away dried beef now to have later on.” To save time, she hacked the pot roast into smaller chunks while still in the pan.

Seth scooped salad onto their plates for all of them. “No need to assume the worst. Have faith. And these meetings aren’t secret since I just told you about it.” He gazed at her with dark eyes both earnest and sympathetic.

She speared a hunk of meat and transferred it to Seth’s plate. “I have plenty of faith. I’d just like to have some say-so for a change.” Her words slipped out unintended, making her sound petty and willful.

Seth scooped carrots and celery from the pot and began to devour his dinner. He finished faster than usual, even though the roast was still rather tough. Hannah supposed his speed wasn’t solely due to the meeting.

“I promise, Hannah, that I won’t go to bed until I tell you of any decisions made tonight. Then you can have your say-so to me for as long as you like.” He drained his tea in one long gulp.

Hannah decided to let the matter drop. She called Phoebe, and the child started her dinner about the time Seth finished his. Hannah took her time picking at supper long after Seth was on his way to the gathering.

Your will be done, Lord, not mine.
She repeated the words silently over and over. Lately, it had become her most familiar prayer.

“Jamie! Come in here. Your mom and I want a word with you, son.”

James frowned. He had finally updated the computer program for the harvest forecasts and finished the daily ledgers, besides supervising the hookup of the new irrigation pump at the main pond. He’d hoped to take his horse, an Appaloosa gelding, for a trail ride into the hills. Nothing felt as satisfying as galloping across an open field on a beautiful June day. Or they would follow the shady woodland trail along the ridgeline where he could look out on the entire Tuscarawas River Valley.

Graduation was over. He’d enjoyed prom night more than expected with a non-romantic date from his church youth group, he’d endured commencement exercises in a stifling hot gymnasium, and he was officially a high school graduate.

His grandparents were proud of him.

His parents had thrown him a party for “just a few close friends and relatives” that had ended up with more than a hundred people. But his one
special
guest hadn’t been there. He couldn’t chance sending her an invitation, not until he knew how her father would react. James was finally a free man with the entire summer before him, and all he could think about was Emma.

“Jamie!” his dad called again from the house.

James dutifully dismounted, tied his horse’s reins to a low-hanging branch, and went inside. His father was leaning against the kitchen sink while his mom sat at the glass-topped table with her Bible and papers spread out in front of her. “Preparing for your Sunday school class?” he asked.

Barbara Davis taught a women’s class that was working their way through the Old Testament. She smiled at him over her half-moon reading glasses. “Among other things I’ve got started. I can’t seem to tackle one project at a time on my day off. I begin several at once and hope for the best.”

“Oh, you’ll probably finish them all and paint the kitchen and sew up some new drapes,” he said, only half kidding. His mother loved to immerse herself in domestic projects whenever away from her stressful job as an emergency room nurse.

She laughed, but his dad cleared his throat and put on a serious face. Barbara fished through her papers and pulled out a college catalog. “There’s something we gotta talk about, Jamie. Time is growing short.”

James felt his enthusiasm for the afternoon slip away.
Not this old argument again.
“Ah, Ma,” he moaned, slumping into a chair.

She smiled patiently, but James Sr. wasn’t so indulgent. “Hear you mother out, and don’t be rude, son.”

“Yes, sir. Sorry.”

“I know you didn’t want to think about more schooling during your senior year. And we let you alone about it…more or less,” she said, adding a wink. “But times are changing for farm managers same as for everybody else. And you’re too young to let new methods and technologies pass you by. It’ll hurt this farm’s productivity down the road.”

James picked up the catalog she had pushed across the table. “Ohio State? I’ve been to Columbus and have no desire to live there. That is one big city.”

Why couldn’t he make his parents understand college wasn’t for everybody? His older brother had received a bachelor’s in Theology and was now in seminary to become a pastor. His sister was an undergrad, currently applying to veterinary schools. He was certain his younger brother would go to college—his nose was always in a book. Couldn’t his parents be happy with three out of four of their children getting advanced degrees?