The Way to a Man's Heart (The Miller Family 3) (20 page)

“Your
mamm
saved a slice of blackberry pie for you. That and a glass of cold milk might help your thinking.”

“Danki,
I won’t be long.” Matthew followed him inside and then devoured the pie along with two glasses of milk. He also ate a wedge of cheese, some stale muffins destined for the hogs, and a peach before returning to the porch swing. Although a table of snacks had been set out at the Yost farm, Matthew hadn’t eaten. He’d been too busy watching the racing and formulating strategies on how to teach people riding skills. He had never seen so much mishandling. It’d amazed him how some were even able to stay astride. Although several men had urged him to race, he chose not to alienate potential customers to his future enterprise.

Emma could help him make flyers, and James’
bruder
could drive him around to hang them up. Maybe he could get the bishop’s permission to install a phone line in the barn, strictly for business purposes. He knew others in the district had such an arrangement.

Before he knew it, he would be taking Martha home in his courting buggy. Leah was right. If he let grass grow under his feet, the girl of his dreams would be snatched up by someone less shy. He would have faith. If God thought his plan was a step in the right direction, he wouldn’t fail. He planned to run an honest, fair business, and save his profits to build a two-story house with—

“Matthew Miller! What’s the big idea?” Leah’s sharp tongue cut through this reverie of a pleasant life with Martha.

Leah stomped up the porch steps and halted before the swing, blocking his escape route. Even in the dim light she looked piqued.

“What are you talkin’ about?” he asked.

Both hands were perched on her hips. “I’m talking about you, Rachel, and Martha hightailing it out of there and leaving me stranded!” She tapped the toe of one boot on the porch floor.

He stared at her thundercloud face while puzzle pieces began fitting together. “Settle down, Leah. After Rachel received her trophy we went looking for you. Martha was eager to get home. She has to get up early tomorrow to start canning green beans. She’s planning on putting up—”

“Don’t get sidetracked. Get on with it.”

“Well, we set off to look for you but ran into Jonah Byler instead. He congratulated Rachel on winning third place and talked to us for a few minutes about wishing to learn to ride. He hoped that I would teach…” Matthew noticed Leah’s right hand clench into a fist. Although he knew her to be a pacifist, he decided not to take the risk. “Jonah said we shouldn’t worry about finding you. He said he was taking you home. That seemed okay to us since you told Rachel you liked him, and he was the reason you went to a draft horse sale…”

Matthew stopped explaining since Leah was no longer listening. She was staring off into the dark side yard with an odd look on her face. Her expression could be described as surprise, annoyance, and awe rolled into one.

“He told you that?” she asked hoarsely.

“Jah,
he did.” Matthew didn’t know what to make of this. “Are you mad at me, Leah? Did we do something wrong?”

“No, nothing wrong.” She glanced back at him. “I don’t understand Jonah. He wanted to take me home and then barely said two words the whole drive. He seemed peeved about something.”

Matthew stood, put his hands on her shoulders, and gently backed Leah up. “As soon as I get a few things straightened out, I’ll be happy to help you figure out Jonah. But right now I can barely keep my head above water.” He pulled open the screen door. “Let’s go inside. Things might make more sense in the morning. I’m sorry if we upset you by leaving you at the Yosts’. It must have been a case of miscommunication.”

Leah walked into the house, looking as though the wind had been knocked out of her. “Must have been.
Gut nacht,
Matthew.” She headed up the steps while he locked the door and blew out the kerosene lamp.

That night Leah remained on her knees in prayer longer than usual. She had more to take care of than rote prayers of forgiveness and thanksgiving. She needed help to understand the new people in her life. Lately Daniel, Steven, John, and now even Jonah behaved in ways no right-minded female ever would.

Finally, when no insight or revelation came to mind, Leah stood and walked to the maple desk under the window. Drawing stationery and a pen from a drawer, she began a long overdue letter to her sister. Emma had endured plenty of missteps and roadblocks while being courted by James Davis, yet she had remained steadfast in her convictions and faith, and in the end, she married her one true love. Were Miller girls destined to suffer great anguish while other girls courted, fell in love, joined the church, and then married without constant turmoil?

Leah hoped that wasn’t the case, but even so she vowed not to follow in Emma’s footsteps as she wrote her letter:

Dear Emma,

I hope my letter finds you and Jamie well. It’s been quite warm these past few weeks, no? I bought a small battery-powered fan for my room, but I can’t use it for long or the batteries go dead. Sometimes when the upstairs is unbearable, I sleep downstairs in
mamm’s
old recuperation room. With the windows open on both sides, a nice breeze blows through, if there’s any breeze at all. I’m eager for our next face-to-face visit. I’m afraid the more I’m around menfolk the more confused I become. I find myself running and hiding from boys instead of looking forward to being courted. At least I have the diner to keep my spirits up. Business is good, and I love baking up new recipes.

Maybe I’ll just stay single and be a career girl like some
Englischers.
A cup of this, a pinch of that, a certain amount of time in the oven, and you can count on good results. Not so with people of the male variety. Hurry home soon.

Your loving sister,
Leah

The next day Matthew worked his shift at Macintosh Farms as though walking in his sleep. He went through the motions while words and sentences spun through his mind. At three thirty, quitting time, he once again knocked on Mr. Mac’s carved oak door.

When the florid-faced owner glanced up from his computer monitor, Matthew said politely, “Excuse me, sir. There’s something I need to talk to you about.”

L
eah and April bustled through the diner delivering daily specials and cleaning tables at a frantic pace. The diner was filled with
Englischers
who had come down to visit farm markets, look through quaint country shops, and sample rural life. Few Amish had stopped in except for coffee ordered to go. There was a barn raising in the area, and all the Amish within a reasonable distance would be there from sunup until sundown. April had picked Leah up that morning and would drop her off at the farm getting a new barn. She would also deliver pies and a roaster of barbeque beef that Leah’s Home Cooking was donating to the cause.

Because local raspberries were in season, a thick layer topped the pancake special along with whipped cream.
Englischers
truly loved their sweets, although seldom did Plain folk decline the topping. The pancakes sold out by the time they had switched over to the lunch menu.

Today all the patrons seemed to have questions for Leah with their orders.

“Where’s your horse and buggy?” and “Why no gentlemen admirers today?” came from her elderly regular customer. “How come you don’t have buttons on your clothing?” and “Why don’t you ever tie your
kapp
ribbons?” came from those experiencing Amish culture for the first time. Leah didn’t mind. Curiosity was human nature. She’d been more curious than normal herself lately.

April selected chicken salad with walnuts and grapes for the lunch special, to be served in sandwiches or on a bed of lettuce. When the chicken salad sold out by one thirty, Leah wanted to close up early, but April objected.

“No, we’ll stay open until three as usual and feed as many people as we can. That stodgy Mr. Jenkins wants the rent paid by the end of the week or he says he’ll change the locks.” She abruptly halted her forward motion and turned to look at her partner. “He was just kidding, so don’t worry. But we can’t afford to turn customers away during our first year. Profits are hard to come by.” April hurried off to circumvent further discussion.

Leah was too cowardly to ask questions. But she wondered if April had meant
this
month’s rent or last’s, or maybe the month before.

The two women cleaned up after closing and then left in April’s pickup. Leah remained silent as her mind busily reviewed the previous few weeks. She had noticed more than once April taking cash and making change without actually ringing up the sale in the register. In the past, she’d assumed April would ring it up later when not so busy. Now Leah wasn’t so sure. She considered questioning April about their financial condition, but she couldn’t muster the courage. Despite Leah’s lofty title of partner, April still acted like the boss and treated Leah like what she was…eighteen years old.

Because trucks made better time than buggies, they arrived at the barn raising within twenty minutes. Leah decided to put her worries aside for the lovely June afternoon. After unloading the restaurant’s contribution into the food tent, April left while Leah searched for her family. She found
mamm
sitting in a long row of lawn chairs. The women looked like spectators at a sporting event, each of them shaded by the thick brim of their black bonnets.

“Where’s your bonnet?” Julia asked as though reading her mind.

“I forgot it this morning,” Leah said, twirling one ribbon of her thin white prayer
kapp.

Julia clucked her tongue. “You’ll have to keep to the shade all day. This hot sun will fry your face like an egg.”

If her mother knew how many eggs Leah had fried up that morning, she wouldn’t make such jokes.

“I’ll come sit with you under that big tree,” Julia said, rising to her feet.

Leah picked up the lawn chair and carried it to a spot under a huge oak, still within sight of the barn. Soon a hubbub in the rafters caught their attention. Men and boys on ladders, on the ground, and on roof scaffolds scurried like ants around an anthill. “Who is in charge today?”

Julia spread out a quilt for her daughter and then settled back in her chair. “Mr. Klobentz. He tells each crew what to do.”

“The same Mr. Klobentz who directed the rebuilding of our barn?” Leah asked, remembering the horrible night of their barn fire four years ago. The acrid smell, the smoke stinging her lungs, the fear that flames would spread to the house, the terrified livestock fleeing for safety—the memory of that night would linger for the rest of her life. The exact cause of the fire had never been determined.

“His son, Marvin,” said Julia. “The elder Mr. Klobentz retired, but he’s around here someplace, making sure things are done correctly. I’m glad your
daed
and Henry are positioned on the ground, moving piles of lumber to where they are needed. I worry about your
bruder,
crawling around those rafters like a monkey. He doesn’t have a monkey’s sure-footedness.”