Never Far From Home (The Miller Family 2) (17 page)

On Saturday, her mother was so distracted by pain and discomfort she didn’t much question Emma about the outing. She commented only “you surely show little interest in the colts and fillies Matthew is raising,” and instructed her to wear the one pair of trouser jeans she owned—
under
her dress.

“
Mamm
, this is July and close to ninety degrees.”

Julia shook her head. “I know perfectly well what month it is, but you can’t ride astride a horse in a long dress. You also can’t wear jeans and a shirt like
Englischers
. So it’s the two together or stay home and help Henry paint the fence.” She lowered her head to lock gazes with her daughter.

So Emma wore the jeans and dress together, happy to be going despite the hot day.

Sam Yoder drove his buggy up her lane promptly at nine o’clock. With his new standardbred, a former racehorse, he’d made good time coming from Charm. Emma climbed into the buggy and offered a quick wave to her
daed.
Seeing a buggy and not a pickup, Simon stayed with his plow and didn’t come charging across the field. Matthew studied her from his position in the hayloft window, no doubt curious about her response to the secret letter.

“Bye, Emma,” Leah called from the porch swing. The girl was already shelling peas for lunch into a large pot. “Have a nice time.”

Emma felt a twinge of guilt at how little fun her sister had, but her time would come soon enough. She was only thirteen. However, as soon as Sam’s buggy headed up the Hostetler road, Emma felt nothing but excitement. She dug around in her tote bag, packed with bug repellent, hand wipes, and water, and pulled out a tube of pink lip gloss and a compact of rose blusher. These had come from the dollar store. Emma applied the cosmetics the way she’d seen English girls do in the ladies’ room in town.

“You putting makeup on for Jamie?” Sam asked.

Emma glanced his way briefly. “No, I’m doing this for myself, to feel pretty.” Why she’d said that she didn’t know.

“Shucks, Emma, you don’t need that stuff. Jamie and I were just saying that you and Sarah are the two prettiest girls in Holmes County. And we’re the two luckiest men.”

“Is that right, Sam Yoder?” Emma shoved her makeup back into the tote.

If Sam answered her question, she didn’t hear because James had spotted the buggy and was walking their way.

“Emma,” he said. “I’m so happy you came I think I could hug you!”

“Thinking is one thing, but don’t try it,” she said, sounding more confident than she felt.

“Ready to go?” he asked. “As soon as Sam puts his horse in the pasture, we’ll be off in my ride. I gave her a bath for the occasion.”

Emma was confused until they walked over to his pickup. The vehicle gleamed brightly in the sunlight. “Is this truck female?” Emma asked.

“Sure, doesn’t she look it?” James opened the doors and windows to cool off the interior.

“The color could certainly be female,” Sarah teased, joining them with her tote bag and a cooler hanging on her arm. “Green is for girls; blue is for boys.”

Emma was happy to see that Sarah wore jeans under her dress too. This was all new to her, but then again, she’d never ridden a horse for pleasure before. Amish folk loved their animals, but horses represented a farming implement or a way to get from one place to another.

“I’m so glad you made it, Em. This should be even more fun than canoeing,” Sarah said. She craned her neck to see where Sam had gone.

Emma grinned. Not only had Sarah climbed into a wobbly conveyance over water, today she planned to mount a huge, four-legged beast with flies buzzing around its head. The way Sarah looked at Sam when he returned from the paddock must have something to do with her change of heart.

Are my emotions also that obvious?
Emma certainly hoped not as she squeezed into the backseat.

“You look real nice, Emma,” James said, watching her in his rearview mirror.

“Keep your eyes on the road,” she warned. “And no speeding.”

“Yes, ma’am.” James flashed a grin and then concentrated on the road during the drive to Trails End Stable.

When they arrived, an earlier group was preparing to go out. The English teenagers milled around while the trail guide matched the size and ability of each rider to a particular horse. Emma couldn’t help but notice the girls in line. They all wore snug-fitting tops with even tighter blue jeans. Some wore Western boots while most had on tennis shoes.
Why must they wear their clothes as if they bought the wrong size?
There was no mystery to any curve of their bodies. Emma smoothed a hand down her solid blue dress, glad her clothing fit properly. She would be very uncomfortable wearing such constricting outfits.

One young lady spotted her watching them. She offered a wave and smile before turning back to her friends. If the girl thought wearing pants under a dress odd she didn’t show it. And for that Emma felt grateful, because today she was with James, not someone Amish.

She touched her fingertips to her lips. The lip gloss was sweet like peppermint candy and a little sticky. She hoped it wouldn’t attract gnats. Remembering 1 Peter 3:4, a Bible verse her father loved to quote about vanity stopped her from comparing herself to others: “You should clothe yourself instead with the beauty that comes from within, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is so precious to God.”

“We’re next, Emma,” James whispered near her ear as the others left for the trail.

“I’m as ready as I ever will be,” she answered. “My brother would be proud of me. He rides bareback, even at a gallop, and doesn’t fall off. With a saddle, I hope I can stay on the horse the whole time.”

James placed his hand at the small of her back. “You’ll be fine. These horses aren’t like the spirited stock Matthew bought. They’re accustomed to people sitting on them who don’t know what they are doing.”

“Thanks a lot.” She wrinkled her nose at him as she stepped up to the mounting block.

But her worries about horses were premature. Emma mounted gracefully and was soon trotting across an open field with a dozen other riders. At the edge of the pasture, a trail entered a dim, cool wood where wild violets still bloomed even this late in the season. She listened to the forest sounds around her and an occasional snort from her gentle mare, but otherwise the place was utterly peaceful.

She loved the woods, feeling God’s presence in the soft light filtering down between the leaves and tree branches. And she liked James. He followed behind her, dutifully watching to make sure everything stayed cordial between her and the horse.

Their trail followed a winding river to a clearing where several picnic tables waited beneath a huge oak tree. “Chow time, folks,” hollered the trail guide. He and his assistant quickly spread out an assortment of sandwiches, chips, grapes, apples, and a cooler of drinks.

“Where did all this food come from?” Emma asked James, while nibbling a sandwich.

“A pack mule trails behind the last rider, bringing food and a first aid kit, just in case.”

“Oh, that’s interesting,” she murmured, averting her eyes.

But actually it was more unsettling than anything else. How did James know about the pack mule? Had he brought other girls here before? A pang of jealousy crept up her spine and soured her stomach. She couldn’t finish the delicious lunch. And she could barely think about much else on the ride back to the stable.

Growing up and courting weren’t easy…whether you were English or Plain!

M
amm?”
Phoebe asked. “Where do
bopplin
come from?” Hannah dropped the pancake she was flipping down on the stove. Breakfast was off to a bad start. “They come from God. Why do you ask?” She scraped up the crumbles to add to the bucket headed for the sow and piglets.

“
Jah
, but how does He get them to us?” The big-eyed child looked utterly earnest. “One girl at school said God leaves them in the garden and the sunflowers bend over the
boppli
until the mom finds it the next morning.”

With her back to the child, Hannah smiled at such innocence.

“Then another girl said that’s not right. God puts the baby in the
mamm
’s belly and there it grows until it’s time to come out. Just like the cow babies and the little lambs.”

Hannah turned to face her daughter. “The second explanation is pretty much how it goes.”
Seven is too young for any more details,
she thought.

Phoebe paused and then asked, “When is God going to put a baby in your belly? I’m ready for a
schwestern
or even a
bruder
already.”

“I am too, but we must be patient. And He doesn’t give babies to all couples. We must pray and then accept His will for our family.”

“Okay, but I hope He says yes.” With that, Phoebe ate her pancake with gusto and drank her glass of milk.

I do too, dear one. I do too.

But babies weren’t the only thing on Hannah’s mind during the ride to Julia’s later that morning. She planned to speak to Simon. He wasn’t just her brother-in-law; he was her deacon, and she needed his advice.

She and Seth had been butting heads for weeks and that troubled her sorely.

Despite finding a man to spend her life with, Hannah struggled with losing her say-so in matters. She had managed her own farm following Adam’s death, paid her bills on time, and sold her crops and garden produce. Plus, she had built a business selling wool and lambs to other farms to support herself. Now she had melded her life and livelihood with Seth, and he wasn’t seeking her opinion. He made all decisions by himself and told her his conclusions after the fact.

Simon might not have been her first choice to turn to before, but stubbornness in the past had only multiplied her woes.

“Guder mariye,”
she called upon entering his barn. Phoebe ran off to tell Julia they had arrived, and then the child would tag after Leah like a shadow on a sunny day.

Simon glanced up from the cutting implement he was sharpening. “Good morning to you, sister. How go things around the corner?” He refocused on his work.

“Not well, I’m afraid,” Hannah answered without preamble. “That’s why I’m here.”

Simon’s file slipped off the blade with a clatter.

He probably asked the question to pass time, not expecting a frank answer
, she thought.

“Jah?”
he asked. “You’re not well? What’s wrong, Hannah? Is it my
bruder
?”

“We are all fine in body,
danki
. It’s my spirit that needs your help,” she said, sitting down on a hay bale.

He set down the tools and wiped his hands on his leather apron. “Tell me what’s wrong.” He spoke so softly, she somewhat relaxed.

“It’s me. I am willful and opinionated and rash.” When she glanced up, he was pulling sagely on his beard, but he didn’t deny her assessment.

“How can I help?” he asked.

“Tell me how a wife comes to accept that her husband gets to make all decisions in the household.” She blurted out the words without regard to tone or volume. “Seth doesn’t even ask my opinion in matters I’m knowledgeable about.”

There it was—expressed succinctly in words—the matter that had her tossing and turning each night.

Simon gazed on her with compassion. “Stay there. I’ll be right back.”

Hannah sat, listening to the barn swallows cleaning out their nests. Bits of mud and straw drifted down to the oaken floorboards from their industry.

In a few minutes Simon returned with his well-worn Bible in hand. “Do you trust the Word of the Lord?” he asked.

Hannah nodded. “With my whole heart.”

“Then let’s see what Scripture has to say.” Simon read her Ephesians 5:22-23: “For wives, this means submit to your husband as to the Lord. For the husband is the head of his wife as Christ is the head of the church.”

“I will write down those verses for you to take home. Read them nightly along with your prayers. In fact, study the whole book of Ephesians.”

She nodded while her eyes filled with tears.

He patted her hand. “It won’t be easy, Hannah. We all struggle with obedience at some point or another, but I can say it will lead to greater contentment in your life and a surer path to salvation. Let your husband lead you. Even when he stumbles or falls, do not criticize him. Your joys will be multiplied and your prayers will be answered.”

Silence spun out in the barn. Even the swallows stopped their cleaning. Hannah sat with fresh tears streaking her cheeks. She knew he was right, and she also knew it was the only way. “
Danki
, Simon. I will do it.” Dabbing at her nose with a hanky, she rose shakily to her feet. “Right now, I’ll go see what Julia is doing.” She felt as though she’d just accomplished an exhausting task as she walked from the barn.

Thy will be done
, she said to herself over and over.
And for better or for worse
.