The Way to a Man's Heart (The Miller Family 3) (26 page)

With the back of the buggy packed with baked goods, Leah headed to Winesburg to work. Feathery white clouds danced across the clearest, bluest sky…or so it seemed to Leah as her spirits soared this perfect July Wednesday. Did her upcoming outing with Jonah Byler have something to do with her exceptional good mood? Two weeks ago they had shared a wonderful holiday—listening to music, people-watching on the street, and finally enjoying the fireworks in the park. The six of them had found a hillside with an unobstructed view of the pyrotechnics for their lawn chairs. The deafening cacophony had reverberated up and down the valley.

Because horses didn’t appreciate loud booms, Leah had never seen fireworks up close. After the first rocket launched into the night sky, Jonah had taken her hand and held it during the twenty-minute display. Somehow his dry skin and rough calluses felt soothing, especially since his large hand enveloped her smaller one. During the walk back to the van, he seemed to be studying her in the near darkness. On the ride home they had shared the backseat, but two
kinner
were wedged in between them, fast asleep. When Jonah walked her to the back door, he formally asked her for a second date.

Leah had said yes without a moment’s hesitation. This Friday, a farm near Jonah’s was hosting a hot dog roast and bonfire. Leah planned to ride there with the Hostetler sisters, but she hoped to come home with Jonah. And during the time in between, she wanted to hear about new calves or special batches of hot pepper cheese or any other topic, as long as he did the talking in his wonderful husky voice. She could think of little else yesterday while baking and washing clothes. Jonah had occupied her thoughts while weeding the garden, helping
mamm
clean windows, and cooking supper. At least with three days of work between now and then, time would pass quickly.

But as she pulled into the parking lot of Leah’s Home Cooking,
daed’s
warning came to mind:
A gal has only one reputation; take good care of it.
As much as Jonah fascinated her, she wasn’t sure about courting anybody seriously. Work was still exciting, and her newfound independence felt wonderful. She’d better enjoy Jonah’s company within a group, so nobody would get premature notions.

Leah put her horse into the paddock and entered the diner through the back door. Packing crates were stacked beneath the window where she had perched to spy into the restaurant and then been discovered. That seemed so long ago but in truth, only five months had passed. Slipping on her full-length apron, she washed her hands and entered the kitchen, which was already fragrant with the scents of sizzling bacon and sausage.

April was chopping vegetables for omelets, and she glanced up with a smile. “Good morning,” she greeted. “How was your weekend?”

“Very nice,” Leah said. “We spent Sunday afternoon with Aunt Hannah and Uncle Seth. Their little boy is so smart for a three-and-a-half-year-old. He can name every plant in the garden. How about you? What did you do?”

“We drove to my in-laws on Sunday for a barbeque. It’s nice when someone else does the cooking, no?”

“Jah.
Aunt Hannah had a new recipe for stuffed peppers with rice and ground pork. She used green peppers along with sweet yellows and hot peppers too—something for everyone’s taste. I cooked nothing but a pot of coffee, which I better get started here or customers will be banging their mugs on the counter.” She plugged in the coffee-maker and the smaller decaf pot and took orange juice out to defrost.

“Coffee is something I sure need to get moving,” said April.

Leah spotted dark circles under her partner’s eyes and tiny red spider veins on her eyelids. Maybe the busy weekend hadn’t allowed enough hours of sleep. If there was another reason for her exhausted appearance—an argument with her husband or maybe a sick child—Leah didn’t wish to add to her woes. But on the other hand, it was time
this
half of the partnership knew what was going on.

Once the blueberries were washed and sugared and the creamer pitchers filled, Leah joined April at the griddle to pour the first batch of pancakes. “Say, April,” Leah began. “I was wondering…is everything okay on the money end of things?” Her words sounded painfully childlike, as though asked by a nosy youngster. “Like the rent and utilities, and what about those picnic tables we ordered from the carpenter in Shreve? Have we paid him yet?”

For a moment anxiety flashed across the older woman’s face, but it was soon replaced with confusion. “What brought this on? Yes, as a matter of fact Mr. Jenkins stopped in the diner a couple weeks ago and picked up his rent check. He saved me a stamp and a trip to the post office.” She smiled indulgently before turning back to the sizzling bacon. “And I ran into that nice carpenter in town and wrote him a check then and there.” She lifted the skillet to drain off grease into a large pickle jar. “Why do you ask?”

“Oh, no particular reason. I’m just a worrywart. That’s what my
mamm
calls me, anyway.”

“Well, you just worry about what the lunch special will be. It can’t be egg salad—we don’t have enough eggs. And it’s too hot for sloppy joes, chili, or meatloaf.” April breezed out of the kitchen into the dining car without a backward glance. The subject had been dropped and the matter was closed, as least as far as April was concerned.

But despite her boss’ attempt to assure her that everything was fine, Leah didn’t feel reassured. She’d seen the initial look of panic in her eyes. Although she believed April would not outright lie to her, sometimes withholding the whole truth could be just as bad. She remembered the desk drawer filled with bills and invoices, some stamped with “second notice,” and they continued to trouble her. But how could she ask April directly about them? She would sound petty and insecure. Business partners needed to trust each other.

After lining up three types of bread next to the toaster, taking butter out to soften, and mixing another batch of pancake batter, Leah headed into the diner to greet their first customers. And by ten o’clock she felt much better. Regulars like her elderly
Englischer
and carloads of tourists down for an enjoyable day in the country had a way of doing that to a person. Business was brisk at both breakfast and lunch, and they managed to complete the shift without turning the kitchen into a disaster zone.

But the best news came later, right at closing time—better than paid-up rent or a tidy kitchen. The postman stuck his head in the door, hollered “Hello,” and left a bundle of flyers, bills, and junk mail on the counter. April quickly ruffled through the stack and held up one yellow vellum envelope. “Miss Leah Miller,” she read. “It’s a letter for you, dear girl, delivered here to the diner instead of to your home. The return address is Pillsbury Corporation, Minneapolis, Minnesota. Do you suppose this is that contest you entered?” Her green eyes sparkled with delight.

Leah snatched the letter from April’s fingers.
“Danki!”
she cried and ran down the back steps. Standing in the middle of the parking lot, she pulled the single sheet from the envelope. After skimming the addresses and salutation, her gaze fixed on the body of the letter. “We are pleased to announce that you have been selected as a finalist in this year’s Bake-Off competition. Your recipe for Peach Parfait Supreme pie has been entered in the sweet treats category.”

In her initial excitement over the good news, Leah didn’t notice that the selection process involved an appearance with her pie before a panel of judges. Or that this year’s final round would take place in Orlando, Florida. She ran back inside to hug her partner, and then the two women jumped up and down like puppies just released from their crates.

She barely remembered the drive home from work that day.

Perfectly uniform peach slices and softened cream cheese were dancing through her head like sugar plums on Christmas Eve.

L
eah had little time to contemplate the letter from Pillsbury or her date with Jonah during the next few days. But each remained in the back of her mind like a secret cache of chocolate…a future pleasure to ease life’s minor irritations. Once or twice she’d considered telling her mother about the contest. After all, she would have to now that she’d been named a finalist. But she decided to wait for the right moment.
Mamm
was up to her elbows in tomatoes to be cleaned, chopped, and canned. She wouldn’t consider leaving the county, let alone the state, with so much garden produce to put up. But after the harvest, the idea might sound more appealing.

In their corner of the world early August was famous for low, heavy skies and thick, humid air, with the next thunderstorm just around the corner. But that Friday dawned sunny and clear, while a cool breeze blew from the south. Because many Amish went to Sugar Creek for the auction, few customers showed up at the diner. Leah appreciated the less hectic pace as it allowed time to plan her evening. Thoughts of what to wear, what to talk about, and what to eat that wouldn’t be too messy filled her mind in between breakfast and lunch. April seemed quieter than usual, but Leah chose not to question her. Sometimes a woman needed to be alone with her thoughts.

After they closed for the day, Leah ran to the paddock to hitch up her horse. Fortunately, the mare didn’t seem to mind the faster pace home. As a reward, Leah fed her several carrots before turning her out to the pasture. After her brother’s instruction, she now allowed the horse to eat apples and carrots from her hand. In the past she would throw treats over the fence and retreat quickly. Considering the size of horse teeth, she still shivered with the feel of a wet muzzle in her palm. Leah patted the mare’s neck once more and hurried to her chores.

Because
mamm
was busy in the garden, Leah had dinner to fix, sheets to take down and fold, and the bathroom to scrub, but she finished with enough time for a soak in the tub. Emma’s old peach bubble bath and body lotion from her courting days soothed Leah’s dry skin, but she had never developed a curiosity for cosmetics. Blushers and tinted lip gloss looked silly with Plain clothes. Besides, she had more natural color to her cheeks than her pale blond sister had. Emma had come to mind a dozen times this past week. Her turbulent
Rumschpringe
and heartache after falling in love with an
Englischer
didn’t prod Leah to start courting, but Jonah wasn’t like other boys, and that made her want to know him better. Still water ran deep, her grandmother used to say. She’d never understood what that meant until she met the cheese-maker from Wisconsin.

Martha and Sarah picked her up promptly at six o’clock, saving her a trip around by the snake-infested bog. Emma had loved it by the pond, often taking a book down there to read. How she wasn’t eaten alive by mosquitoes remained a mystery.

Wearing her favorite dress and a big smile, Leah squeezed into the one-seat buggy.

“What did you make for the dessert table?” Rachel asked.

Leah laughed at her friend’s question, bypassing a standard greeting. “Just my regular walnut brownies, a double batch.” She patted her basket containing the pan. “I didn’t want to show up the
nonprofessional
bakers and have you going home in tears,” she said with a wink. Rachel pinched her arm and made a face.

Martha shook the reins lightly. “Do you suppose your
bruder
will be stopping by at the cookout?” she asked in barely a whisper.

Leah had no good news. “Probably not. He’s working at that big stable in Sugar Creek that gives trail rides. He won’t be home for a while, and it’ll be too late to come out.”

Martha didn’t hide her disappointment. “Maybe he won’t think it’s too far.”

Rachel and Leah exchanged glances. “I made mini strawberry cheesecakes in silver cupcake wrappers,” Rachel said. “We’ll just see who’s taking home an empty baking pan at the end of the evening.”

“Stop competing with one another, you two,” Martha said irritably. “God’s people shouldn’t try to feel superior over anyone. Nothing good could be gained by that.”

Leah’s grin vanished and she remained quiet for the rest of the drive. She wondered what Martha would think of her entering the bake-off. For the first time, she wondered what the bishop’s reaction might be, or that of the rest of her district. Her deacon father might not view this as quite the accomplishment, either.

But as they arrived at the cookout, her worries vanished. At least thirty young people milled around the picnic tables in the backyard. More were already roasting hot dogs using long willow sticks that had been soaked overnight. Some girls were playing a game of croquet; others had squared off over the badminton net, while a few couples strolled toward the slow-moving river. Leah recognized everyone, but the face of handsome, blue-eyed Jonah Byler wasn’t among them. Just when she thought he might not have come, she spotted him walking toward her with the loose-limbed grace of someone accustomed to hard work.

“Hi, Leah,” he said. “I’ve been watching and hoping you’d get here soon.” He patted his washboard flat stomach.