The Way to a Man's Heart (The Miller Family 3) (37 page)

Henry Miller, who seldom asked anyone for anything, wiped his nose with his handkerchief and looked him in the eye. He didn’t need to say a word. Matthew knew.

That afternoon, after bidding on the final horse concluded, Matthew pulled out his checkbook, embossed with the likeness of these same creatures during better days, and bought all eleven horses in the kill pen. The checkbook came out several more times as he lined up men with trailers to transport his purchases back to Winesburg.

Bob’s initial reaction when they met up to ride home was disbelief, as though Matt and Henry were teasing him, and then disbelief morphed into astonishment. His reaction would pale in comparison to
daed’s
later that night.

But the bond of love forged and strengthened that day between two brothers was worth every hard-earned penny spent.

L
eah awoke with a start in the cool bedroom. Emma had left the window open an inch overnight. Because it was almost November, that wasn’t a good idea. Loud talking in the driveway drew her to the window. One, two, three…she counted four horse trailers pulling up close to the barn.

How many horses did Matthew buy yesterday?

Leah glanced at Emma’s neatly made bed. Another sleepless night had taken her sister downstairs early. Now that Leah’s financial troubles had abated, only the consequences to her reputation remained. Because her parents had agreed to pay off the rest of the names on her list, Leah could concentrate on helping Emma. Last night Emma had talked to James, yet her overnight bag remained empty in the corner of the room.

Downstairs in the kitchen, Leah found her hollow-eyed sister sitting at the table. “Is Jamie coming to take you home?” she asked on her way to the refrigerator.

“No. I’m staying another day.” Emma sipped her coffee.

“Why? Your place is with your
ehemann.
It’s time to swallow your pride and patch things up.”

Emma lifted an eyebrow. “Are you tired of me already—anxious to have the room to yourself again?”

“Not at all. I love having you home, but it makes me sad seeing you so unhappy. Jamie loves you and you love him.”

Emma smiled and patted Leah’s hand. “He and Kevin will pick me up tomorrow. I told him that
mamm
needs my help with canning.”

Leah’s expression turned doubtful.

“It’s true.
Mamm
bought ten bushels of Bartlett pears from the produce stand in Wilmot. They were going bad, so she got them for a song.”

“Not ten bushels!” Leah was aghast. “Good grief, it’ll take the three of us forever to trim, core, and can that many pears.”

“But they were so cheap, I couldn’t pass them up.” Emma exactly mimicked her mother’s voice.

Both girls laughed with relaxed familiarity. “You’ll be lucky to see Jamie by Thanksgiving.”

“Then we better get the breakfast show on the road. Oatmeal and fruit for today—no fuss, no muss.”

The sisters had everything ready by the time the rest of the family sat down. But if the sisters had served pretzels for breakfast, the menfolk wouldn’t have noticed. Matthew, Henry, and even Simon excitedly talked horses, horses, horses for the entire meal. Julia filled a thermos of coffee and then shooed them out the door. Emma washed the dishes and Julia set out the canning equipment while Leah carried in six bushels of pears from the porch. Once they’d settled into the peeling and slicing stage of the operation, Leah assumed
mamm’s
conversation would focus on Emma’s mysterious estrangement from her husband, but she was wrong.

“Now that you’ve helped Mrs. Lambright avoid jail for writing bad checks, what do you plan to do next?” Julia asked.

Leah stared blankly. “I…I don’t know what you mean. I know there are more problems at the diner other than debts, but until April clues me in, I’m not sure how to proceed.” She peeled her pear in one continuous strand.

Julia peered over her half-moon glasses. “There’s more to worry about than your empty savings account, young lady. Your reputation is sullied, same as Mrs. Lambright’s. But she’s not concerned with courting anymore. She has a husband and children.”

Leah swallowed hard. With the diner padlocked, her opportunity to spend her life cooking for other people looked grim. And any thoughts of Jonah Byler filled her heart with unbearable sorrow. “What can I do? I’m open to suggestions.” She glanced at Emma, who lifted her shoulders in a shrug.

“You saw how the women acted toward you at quilting, especially those your age. You need to appear at every social event and explain that you’re doing everything possible to right the situation. Your
daed
will talk to the bishop and ministerial brethren too.” She tossed one particularly withered piece of fruit into the slop bucket. “This is no time to hide your head. If folk think
you
tried to cheat people, no man will choose you for his wife.”

Leah concentrated on cutting a small wormhole from her pear. “There’s only one man whose opinion I care about.”

“Who?” Emma asked, her paring knife stalled in midair. “Is my little sister
en lieb
?”

“I was in love with Jonah Byler, the grandson of Amos Burkholder. He moved here almost a year ago from Wisconsin. He asked to court me but then this happened.”

Emma looked at her mother while Julia stared at Leah. “What has he said about all this? I saw Joanna Byler’s name on your list already crossed off, so I know you stopped there.”

“I need to put water up to boil.” Leah filled two huge Dutch ovens and set them on the stove. When she returned, the other Miller women were waiting for her answer.
“Jah,
I stopped at his farm to pay Mrs. Byler, but he wasn’t home. He’s helping an uncle in Wisconsin bring in the harvest. Joanna wasn’t sure when he would come back to Ohio.”

“Have you written to explain what has happened?” Julia asked. “I shouldn’t be butting in, but you’re so naive, Leah. I don’t think you understand the seriousness of this.”

That got Leah’s goat. “I understand just fine. I know that Jonah told me to come forward and confront April a while ago, but instead I dawdled and made excuses. Maybe I couldn’t have changed the outcome, but at least I would have acted. Now he’ll think I’m irresponsible, unreliable, and too stubborn to accept advice. He just started getting to know members of our district, and he tangles up with a headless chicken.”

Emma frowned at the unpleasant mental picture. “At least you discussed your suspicions with him. I think you should write him tonight…or tomorrow…or at least within the week—whenever we finish canning all these pears.”

Leah managed a smile.

“Write to him,
jah,
but keep your letter focused on the diner fiasco,” said Julia. “Don’t talk about your courtship. This kind of scandal gives him the option to court someone else. It’s up to him from here on out.”

Leah didn’t need that to be pointed out so succinctly. She’d already come to the same conclusion. She would write to Jonah tonight and bring him up to date on the demise of Leah’s Home Cooking. She had such high hopes and had enjoyed both the work and the attention she’d received. But the praise for her culinary creations had gone to her head. That girl at quilting had been right—if she hadn’t been lapping up the attention, she might have noticed April’s tricks. Jonah had seen her for what she was. Only time will tell if he saw any
positive
characteristics worth suffering turmoil for.

After a sandwich break at lunchtime, the Miller women processed pears all afternoon. At least the kitchen didn’t grow oppressively hot in October as it did when canning at the height of summer. Conversation around the table centered mainly on Emma’s amusing tales of adjustment to her New Order district. Leah started a kettle of beef vegetable soup for supper. The kitchen smelled wonderful from the variety of cooking scents. Leah began to relax as they cleared off the table and rang the farm bell to call the men.

Simon entered the house wearing a scowl. His sons followed on his heels looking only marginally less dismal. “Matthew’s friend from Wooster stopped over to see the new horses,” said Simon, “and he brought some pretty disturbing stories, daughter.” He focused on Leah as he and the boys took seats at the table.

Leah remained rooted to her square of linoleum. “What did he say?” she asked.

“Oh, Simon, can’t this wait until after supper?” asked Julia. “Let’s have a quiet meal.”

“Ach,
all right.” Simon grunted in agreement.

Once everyone was seated, they bowed their heads in silent prayer. Emma served the soup, ladling each bowl to the brim while Leah sliced and passed fresh-baked bread. During the meal no one spoke as the gloom of bad news hung over the meal like a dark cloud. Finally, as bowls were scraped with crusts of bread, Leah blurted, “Please,
daed,
tell me what was said. I can’t wait another moment.”

Simon’s spoon clattered into his bowl. “Bob heard that Mrs. Lambright is putting the blame for the fraud squarely on your shoulders. She’s saying you were the one in charge of Leah’s Home Cooking—that it was
your
restaurant. Why did you let her put your name up there on the sign?” His cheeks flushed as his blood pressure rose.

Leah pushed away her remaining soup, her appetite gone. “It seemed like a good idea at the time because my pies were so popular.”

“Does it seem that way now, Leah?”

She tried to hold back her tears. “It truly does not.” One tear fell on the smooth oak tabletop.

“Plain folk will know it’s not true,” Julia interjected. “A single Amish woman would never enter into leases and business contracts as Mrs. Lambright had.”

“I thought of that,” said Simon, “but why would she say such things?”

Leah remembered April’s fear of her husband and thought she knew the answer. But too many suppositions were being tossed around as truths, so she didn’t add hers. ”I don’t really know.” She dabbed at her nose with her handkerchief.

Simon shook his head. “Let’s get back to work, sons. We have more temporary pens to put up before dark.”

With the men gone, work resumed on the pears with a subdued mood in the chaotic kitchen. More fruit was carried in, additional jars sterilized, and pears seemed to be everywhere. Even the windowsills became lined with jars set to cool. One Starlight peppermint was placed into each jar of pears before sealing. It added extra sweetness and a hint of mint. Because two bushels yielded twenty-seven quarts, by the time they finished for the night, every surface downstairs was covered with quarts of pears. They would be used in cobblers, strudels, and pies, as a side dish with pork roasts, and as a topping for pancakes and waffles. Jars would become gifts to new brides, new mothers, and new neighbors. Jars would be given to visiting friends and relatives to take home, as well as the milkman, propane deliveryman, and every shopkeeper in town. Emma planned to take several jars to the mission outreach, the ladies’ jail, and to the women in her Bible study group.

Leah had far fewer ideas on how to spread the bounty. In fact, she had no thoughts about anything other than her former beau, Jonah Byler. After she and Emma showered and slipped on flannel nightgowns, sleep refused to come despite their exhaustion. Both lay awake staring at the ceiling.

“Thinking about Jamie?” asked Leah.

“Jah,”
Emma replied. After half a minute, she asked, “Thinking about what
daed said?”

“Can’t think about anything else. I have disgraced my family. Now Jonah will no longer want to court me.”

Emma sat up and lit a candle. In the thin wavering light, she turned to face her sister. “You listen to me—you’ve done nothing but cook, bake wonderful pies, and try to make customers happy. One would think you had no faith by how easily you’ve given up. April’s words are untrue and will soon die on the vine the way all lies eventually do. Pray to God for guidance and for His will to be done. And in the meantime, tell the truth when asked and hold your head up high. Things will work out, Leah. Now stop worrying and go to sleep.” For a minute, the sisters watched the flickering light and shadows dance across the bedroom ceiling.

Then Leah whispered,
“Danki,
Emma. I love you.”

Emma blew out the candle. “I love you too.”