Never Far From Home (The Miller Family 2) (5 page)

Hannah breathed a sigh of relief when their wagon pulled out of the hilly town of Sugar Creek and headed north. There hadn’t been anything particularly bold or improper about Emma’s behavior in Blanchey’s; nothing she could admonish the girl for. It had been more of a feeling Hannah got each time she spotted her niece scanning the shelves with the young
Englischer
.

Did she have to giggle when they both grabbed the handles of the shopping basket and headed in different directions?

Must she appear so interested in the ingredients he was comparing between two brands of marinated vegetables?

Why had she tried to act so knowledgeable about baking apples when Julia could barely get her to pare off the skins when making a pie?

Although they did not stand too close or act inappropriately familiar, still Hannah didn’t like the way they leisurely walked up and down the aisles…so like a couple!

Emma was not yet sixteen.

James Davis was not Amish.

And there was something else Hannah needed to get off her chest with her beloved niece. “Emma, have you been in contact with young Mr. Davis? Other than speaking to him the day he stopped at your uncle’s farm?”

Silence—except for the clopping of horse hooves and the scrape of metal wagon wheels on the road. This wasn’t like Emma, a girl who usually had plenty to say on every topic. Hannah waited a full minute while keeping her focus on the road ahead. Then, “I’m waiting for your answer.”

Emma spoke in an almost childlike voice. “
Jah
. I left directions for him on how to find your farm. I gave them to Mrs. Dunn at your wedding.”

“Why would you do such a thing?”

“He said he was interested in how our operation differed from his, especially how we manage without electricity. He invited us to stop at his folks’ place, remember?” Emma turned toward Hannah on the seat, looking utterly earnest.

“I remember,
jah
. Why didn’t you tell me you had left directions for him?”

She shrugged her thin shoulders. “Because I really didn’t think he would stop, or that he would even remember meeting two Plain women.”

Hannah inhaled a slow breath, trying to ponder the perspective of a fifteen-year-old. She had no wish to overreact to something not necessarily wrong, and so she opted to ask another question. “Was that your sole correspondence?”

“No. I sent Mrs. Dunn a note saying my wreaths were finished and that I would deliver them with our next wool order. That way she wouldn’t take crafts on consignment from another supplier. And I asked her to tell the Davis family about our delivery date in case she wanted her whole supply to arrive the same day. She had mentioned she fills big orders for a rug and carpet manufacturer.”

“I see,” Hannah said. On the surface nothing was wrong with Emma’s logic. In fact, Hannah was impressed with her newfound business acumen.
So why do I still have a bad feeling in my bones?
“I get the idea, Emma, that you had an additional reason for sending the note to James. I believe you like the young man.” Hannah exhaled her pent-up air with a
whoosh
.

“Well, I guess I do like him, Aunt Hannah. He seems nice, don’t you think?”

“
Jah
, I suppose so.”

“And isn’t it important to have friends in your chosen line of work? Business contacts, like Mrs. Dunn and the friends Uncle Seth knows at the grain elevator…both Amish and English?”

Hannah felt she was about to be outmaneuvered, and she didn’t like it. “True enough, but you’re only fifteen years old.” Nothing more reasonable than that came to mind.

“I’ll be sixteen in two weeks, and I’ve been out of school for almost two years. Surely I’m not too young to have English friends.”

“Let me ask you a question, young lady. Have you told your
mamm
and
daed
about James stopping by for a tour last week?”

Emma met Hannah’s eye before gazing off at the countryside. Spring was exploding with each passing hour of glorious sunshine. “No, I didn’t. Pa usually judges a book by its cover, and he wouldn’t see anything beyond James’ Englishness.”

True enough
, Hannah thought. What she said was, “But he is your father and knows what’s best for you.”

Emma crossed her arms over her apron, turning slightly away on the bench seat.

“I’ll say nothing to Simon or Julia right now,” Hannah said softly. “I don’t want to interfere with a family matter between you and your parents.”

Emma pivoted around on the bench, her face bright and eager. “
Danki
, Aunt Hannah—”

“Let me finish,” Hannah interrupted. “But I also won’t be part of any subterfuge in the future, niece. I won’t assist you in deceiving your folks, no matter how much I love you.” She reached out to cup the girl’s chin with three fingers. “And I do love you, Emma.”

The girl slid over until she was practically sitting on Hannah’s lap. “I love you too. And soon I shall tell
mamm
and
daed
all about James since he’s again invited us out to their farm in Charm. It would be rude to ignore the invitation, but I won’t go without their permission.”

At least they had reached an understanding. Hannah relaxed against the back of the seat for the remainder of the trip.

The day that the Lord had made was a blessed gift after weeks of clouds and rain. She could enjoy the companionship of her favorite niece without feeling disloyal to Julia.

She also felt mighty glad that her new daughter, Phoebe, was years away from such tribulations.
Danki, Lord God. Danki!

Simon halted the team of Belgians to sop his brow with his handkerchief. The spring plowing was going well. The rains had been plentiful enough to leave the soil soft and tillable, but not overly abundant to turn his fields into a quagmire. With the sun just over the western hills, he decided this row was as good as any to stop for the day. He listened intently to the sound of an approaching wagon on the road. Was that his daughter returning from Sugar Creek with Hannah? When the wagon rumbled past his lane, Simon’s anticipation changed to annoyance.

How a parent worried when a child was away from home. Every year the frequency of car-buggy accidents increased as more people moved into the fertile, rolling valleys of central Ohio. He would speak to Emma at supper. These trips needn’t turn into all-day excursions, complete with picnics and those silly coffee drinks with whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles! Both women had chores waiting for them…not the least of which was supper. A growl from his stomach turned his thoughts along just those lines. What did Julia mention she would make tonight? Roast duck with sage stuffing. A rather fancy meal for a weeknight, but Simon wasn’t complaining. Even his back pain lessened upon thinking about slices of moist, dark leg meat.

After putting the horses into the barn and sending in Matthew to rub them down, Simon decided to have a look in the unused washhouse. He’d spotted Emma scurrying in and out of the building from the kitchen window this morning. In this room his
mamm
had washed clothes in galvanized basins filled from a hand pump. And everyone had taken their Saturday night bath in an old copper tub. Water had been heated in kettles on the woodstove, steaming up the windows all winter long. Sometimes he yearned for how things were when he was young, but he was alone in such sentiments. Julia loved hot, running water to ease her stiff, arthritic joints. Now the outbuilding was cobwebby and vacant after they had added a bathroom onto the back of the house.

But unused it was not, as Simon pushed open the wooden slat door. Emma had commandeered the room, filling it from floor to ceiling with drying herbs, plants, weeds, and long stringy roots. Some hung from pegs, others dangled from lines stretched across the room at head level, while leaves and twigs lay across a makeshift table built from plywood and two sawhorses.

With his hands on his hips he surveyed the room. He’d never seen the porcelain mortar and pestle sitting in the middle of the table. The whole room took on an odd, macabre look that Simon didn’t like one bit. He saw boxes of plastic storage bags of various sizes, and an array of cutting tools only a hospital surgeon would ever need.

First the barn loft workroom and now this? What is going on with my elder daughter?
Simon hurried to the house, eager to rest his sore muscles, refresh himself with a cup of strong coffee, and talk to the voice of reason—his wife.

“Julia,” he said as soon as he took his place at the table. “Have you seen what’s going on in the old washhouse?”

“
Jah
, Emma uses the space for her dye-making.” Julia placed a mug of coffee before him, refilled her cup from the pot, and then returned to the propane refrigerator for milk.

Simon noticed celery, carrots, and green peppers on the cutting board ready to be chopped. “Is the girl neglecting her house duties? I won’t have you struggling with your bad hands while we have two healthy daughters.” Simon gulped his coffee, scalding his tongue. “And where is Leah?” he asked when he was able to speak again. With her
kapp
off for the moment, Simon saw streaks of silver in his wife’s dark hair.

Julia smiled patiently and stretched her gnarled hand out to him. “Rest easy, Simon. Don’t upset your digestion before one of your favorite meals. I’ve sent Leah to the henhouse. I want to hard-boil some eggs while we eat supper. She’ll be in soon to cut up those vegetables. This is her night to help with supper, not Emma’s.” Julia took a long sip of coffee.

Simon settled back in his chair. “First her own flock of sheep, then the dye-making, now all those wreaths she hauled to Sugar Creek. Don’t you think she’s getting a little too ambitious?”

“Young women today are all ambitious,
ehemann,
even Plain ones here in Winesburg.”

Simon shook his head. “In 1 Timothy 6:10 we learn, ‘For the love of money is the root of all kinds of evil. And some people, craving money, have wandered from the true faith and pierced themselves with many arrows.’ ”

“Sounds like money isn’t evil, only an overfondness for it. We’ll just be sure Emma knows the difference and makes her decisions accordingly,” Julia said, squeezing his hand weakly.

At that moment, twelve-year-old Leah dashed in. She was bringing both a basket of eggs and tales of mischief by her brothers.

The topic of Emma would have to wait.

He had two sons who might need a wallop on their backsides if they really did lob eggs at each other in the henhouse. That would be wasting good food, besides leaving a mess on the floor and walls. Simon met his wife’s gaze. She was trying to hold back a smile, but she offered him an affectionate wink instead.

Simon rose from his chair. “Set out that roast duck whenever you’re ready,
fraa
. After I bring those two scoundrels back to the straight and narrow, I’m sure we will all be famished.”

May

H
annah walked Phoebe halfway to school despite having plenty to do in her garden. But May mornings like today wouldn’t last forever—sunny and warm without a hint of humidity, with a light breeze carrying the soft fragrance of honeysuckle and apple blossoms. Besides, it was the last day of the school year before summer vacation, and little Phoebe needed some extra attention. Laura Hershberger, the former Laura Stoddard, had announced to the class that she wouldn’t be returning as their teacher in the fall. She was expecting a baby. Amish ways dictated she stay home and make her husband and growing family her priority.

Hannah could just imagine how filled with joy Laura must be. The young woman had been Hannah’s first real friend in her new district other than Julia, her sister. Hannah laughed each time she remembered Simon’s misguided attempt to fix the schoolteacher up with his brother, Seth. Both had been aghast since Laura had been secretly courting Joshua Hershberger and Seth had set his cap for Hannah. Laura and Joshua had announced their engagement soon after and married before Thanksgiving—one full month after Hannah and Seth’s wedding. And now Laura was already in a family way, while Hannah wasn’t.