The Way to a Man's Heart (The Miller Family 3) (29 page)

Julia met her daughter’s gaze and bit back whatever retort had initially come to mind. Perhaps it was because Leah had seldom asked for anything while growing up. Maybe the fact Leah worked so hard six days a week had something to do with it. But most likely, it was nothing more than the mother-daughter bond of love they shared. Julia shook her head and said, “All right, Leah. I’ll ask your father when he comes in from the fields, but if I were you I wouldn’t get my hopes up.”

T
he following Tuesday Leah rose extra early to start her baking. She wanted her cakes, pies, and muffins finished by noon because April was picking her up for an afternoon of diner errands. April usually shopped for the meat, vegetables, and staples by herself. But their storage shed and pantry were depleted, so Leah assumed April needed her help. Leah thought she would enjoy visiting meat vendors and bulk food stores as a buyer rather than a seller of farm produce.

At one o’clock April drove up their lane and turned around. Leah grabbed her purse and flew out the door, climbing into the pickup before April could honk the horn.

“Good afternoon,” April chimed. “You look bright eyed and bushy tailed today.”

“I slept better last night since the heat finally broke with the rain. Where are we off to?”

“Let’s pick up groceries first and meat last. I know an outlet that has canned goods and baking supplies on sale. We’ll stock up your home pantry and then pick up eggs, milk, butter, and whatnot for the restaurant. I’m tired of berries, so let’s go with pineapple topping on the breakfast special this week, something different.”

Pineapple pancakes?
Leah had never heard of such a thing. Wouldn’t that be too tart early in the morning? But the mark of a good partnership was not questioning the other’s decisions. April knew better the preferences of English tourists.

Inside the store they filled two carts with canned sweetened milk, bags of sugar and flour, solid shortening, coffee, tea, lemonade mix, and condiments. After they unloaded at the front register, April began to dig through her handbag frantically. “Dear me, I’ve left my checkbook at home. Do you have money with you?” she asked Leah. “Whatever the amount, I’ll just tack it onto your next paycheck. Can you manage this?” April gazed with pleading blue eyes.

A ripple of apprehension snaked up Leah’s spine. “I don’t know if I have enough or not. How much do you think all this will be?”

“I don’t know. Let’s hope for the best.” April appeared calm and relaxed while Leah began to perspire. The checkout girl passed item after item over the scanner as Leah’s dress stuck uncomfortably to her back. She counted the bills in her wallet. “One hundred fifteen dollars,” she said next to April’s ear. Normally she wouldn’t carry such a sum, but she’d planned to make a deposit at the bank while in town.

“One hundred nine dollars and seventy cents,” the clerk announced.

“Oh, good. We have enough.” April tugged the bills from Leah’s fingers. “Don’t worry. I’ll jot this amount down the minute I get home to add to your paycheck.”

“That’ll be fine,” Leah said, not mustering much enthusiasm.

The two women loaded the truck with their purchases and headed down the road with windows down and the radio tuned to a Christian music station. April sang along to a spirited gospel hymn and Leah soon started humming too. Her Old Order district didn’t permit radio listening even if the song lyrics were inspirational, but at the moment Leah didn’t want to think about the bishop’s rules or her father or his refusal to accept the fact that she was an adult. She sang the words of the catchy tune’s final chorus aloud.

“Here we are,” April announced. “Stop number two.”

Leah read the sign as they turned into the drive: “Free-range turkey, chicken, and duck, dressed rabbit and lamb, organic eggs, goat’s milk and goat’s milk cheese. I’ve passed by this place a million times but I’ve never stopped in.”

“They’re very popular since people have become interested in organic and no-cage poultry. This farm raises the best turkey I’ve ever tasted. The white meat is never dry and the thigh meat melts off the bone. No knife required.”

“Sounds yummy,” said Leah as they went inside to place their order. The bell over the door announced their arrival.

A young man working behind a computer screen left his desk and approached the counter. He glanced at Leah and then at April and his smile faded to an expression of unease. He leaned forward and whispered, “I’m very sorry, Mrs. Lambright, but my boss won’t allow further additions to your account.” He looked truly contrite.

“What?”
April gasped. “There must be some mistake. I’ve been doing business here for years.”

“Yes, ma’am, and we appreciate that, but we have been instructed to take only cash for your purchases.”

April stared for several moments as though transfixed by blinding headlights, while Leah’s stomach churned. She thought she might be sick. Then April murmured, “All right, young man. I’m sorry we placed you in this difficult position.” She pivoted and hurried from the concrete block building, with Leah almost treading on her heels.

Once back in the truck April said with feigned gaiety, “Maybe frozen grocery store turkeys don’t taste so bad after all.”

Leah clenched her teeth while anger began to build. After they’d driven a few miles from the turkey farm, she asked, “What’s going on, April? I’m your business partner. I have a right to know.”

April released a weary sigh. “Oh, Leah, I’m ashamed to say that several months ago I got behind with paying bills. There’s always so much to do at the diner between prep work and cleanup, and when I’m home my husband resents any time not spent with the family. Managing my time seems to be harder than keeping meringue from collapsing.”

Leah didn’t laugh at the joke. “So you got behind writing checks to pay folk?”

“Yes, but I have made amends. I paid a whole stack of bills and mailed them last week. I don’t know why the poultry farmer hasn’t received his yet, or maybe his bookkeeper isn’t caught up with the accounts.”

She looked so earnest and pitiful that Leah couldn’t press the issue. This was April’s first business endeavor too, and the adjustment would be harder with a family to care for.

“I’m glad you mailed the checks,” Leah said. “Soon this will be behind us. Are we stopping anywhere else?”

“Not unless you have errands to run; otherwise we’ll unload at the diner and I’ll take you home. My heart’s no longer in shopping, or I would treat you to lunch at the buffet.”

Because Leah no longer had cash to deposit, her heart was no longer in the trip to the bank. “No other errands for me,” she said and turned to watch the scenery beyond the window. She hoped to see hawks soaring, horses galloping, or children playing—anything that would take her mind off her growing money worries.

April gave Leah the day off because the Millers were hosting the Friday night singing. Leah had been looking forward to it for days. Jonah Byler had written a note saying he would be there. Though he regularly attended church services, somehow Leah knew his heart remained closed to God. Time and patience healed most ills, so she prayed that they would soften his stubbornness.

That morning she baked cheesecake bars and peanut butter cookies and then helped set up tables and benches. Because Matthew had come home for the weekend, her help wasn’t necessary, but keeping busy kept her mind off the diner. During the long, drowsy afternoon, she couldn’t seem to think about anything but Jonah. His soft voice floated through her mind like high summer clouds.
Does he really
want a dozen children?
Some Amish families were blessed with that many, but could she manage such a brood? Or would she flounder like April at the diner, trying to juggle too many balls in the air?

As young people began to arrive for the singing, Leah set up the snack table and carried pitchers of drinks to the ice chest. Soon many more showed up than she’d expected, including Steven, Daniel, and John. All three had freshly washed hair, pressed dark shirts, and big smiles as they found seats on the other side of the long table. Though they belonged to another district, they had made the trip to her singing. Leah tried to tamp down a swell of exhilaration without success. She grinned brightly, tickled that so many had come.

The only person not smiling was Jonah Byler, who had quietly slipped into the barn. He leaned on a post, watching the socialization with indifference. While Leah bustled around the room, finding seats and passing out songbooks, she hadn’t noticed him at first. And when she finally did, the seats close to her were filled. Jonah squeezed in at the end of the row and barely made eye contact with his hostess.

After the singing, the boys rushed to the table loaded with pastries and desserts. The girls followed behind with far more decorum. Leah stacked the songbooks into the trunk for the next event. When she finally headed toward the snacks, most folk had fixed a plate and moved outside to eat and chat. Only her three loyal diner customers still lingered around the dessert table.

“Did you make these cheesecake squares?” asked Steven. “I can’t keep away from them. They’re so good, I’m on my third helping.”

“They can’t be better than your peanut butter cookies. They’re the best things here!” Both of John’s hands held a stack of cookies. Telltale crumbs on his upper lip indicated he’d eaten several already.

“Don’t pay any attention to them, Leah,” said Daniel. “They’re trying to turn your head with flattery. Come on outside to the picnic table. I’ve set two glasses of lemonade there so you can relax and take a load off. I know you were busy getting ready for tonight, and you did a right nice job.”

Take a load off?
She laughed at the odd English expression. “All right, Daniel. I can use something to drink. In fact, I might just drink both and leave you with none.” She grasped his outstretched elbow so he wouldn’t continue to stand there like a rooster with ruffled wings. When they reached the picnic table, she took one of the lemonades and drank it down in several long gulps.
“Danki,
Daniel. I was very thirsty.”

Daniel handed her the other drink. “Go ahead, enjoy. I’ll go get us more.” He picked up the empty cup and disappeared into the crowd.

Outside in the cool evening air, she breathed deeply and gazed around at her guests. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. Most chatted in small groups, while a few couples sat together on hay bales, speaking in low voices. Leah tried to imagine what things they talked about.

However, two people, both male, didn’t appear to be enjoying the warm summer night. One was her
bruder,
who stood in the barn doorway. He was glaring toward the oak tree where a swing hung from a branch. Leah focused on what had captured his attention. Martha Hostetler grinned and giggled while being pushed on the swing like a child. Leah inched forward to see who was pushing, expecting to see Rachel. But the person wasn’t female at all. Some boy Leah didn’t recognize stood behind the swing.

“Oh, no,” she murmured. She was about to approach the pair when she remembered the other unhappy face: Jonah Byler. She scanned the crowd for his tall, broad shoulders and glimpsed the back of his head as he walked down the driveway. Leah ran as fast as she could but didn’t catch up with him until they were at the end of the row of buggies. “Jonah, wait a moment,” she called. “Why are you hurrying off?” She was breathless from exertion.

Jonah stopped short and turned around. “Oh, hello, Leah. It’s nice to know you still remember my name.” His voice didn’t sound quite so soft and dreamy now.

“Of course I know your name. Don’t be a goose. I tried saving a spot for you but I couldn’t be rude to my other guests.” She dabbed a bead of perspiration with her handkerchief.

“No, I suppose not, but you could have shared dessert with me afterward. I went to get us glasses of iced tea and couldn’t find you anywhere. Then I spotted you at the picnic table with Daniel…alone.”

Leah blinked several times, trying to sort this out. “You sound angry, Jonah, and I don’t like it. I drank the lemonade that Daniel brought because my mouth was parched dry. I don’t know why you’re making a fuss over this.” A cool breeze caught the hem of her skirt, sending a chill up her spine. “I was glad you’d come tonight and had hoped to speak with you later.”