The Way to a Man's Heart (The Miller Family 3) (5 page)

James had been English. He was still discovering little things he could no longer do the familiar way since turning Amish. But he said it had all been worth it to marry Emma Miller of Winesburg.

Now Mrs. Emma Davis of Charm felt the hair on the back of her neck rise as she pushed open the barn door, searching for her
ehemann.
She found him in the main walkway, trying to untangle a knotted double harness. His black felt hat was tipped back on his head, while his bluntly cut hair framed his face like a golden mane. However, his expression was utter bewilderment…until he spotted her.

“Ah, my sweet Emma. Some fool got this thing all tangled and then hung it on the peg like that.” One corner of his mouth pulled into a half smile.

She set down her cooler and hamper on a bench and went to help. “That fool would be you, dear one. Remember when we came home from Sam and Sarah’s? You took it off wrong and were too tired to straighten it out.”

His cheeks turned a deep scarlet.
“Jah,
I remember now. I spent the day at his farm digging new postholes with a rusty auger. I was beat by bedtime.”

Emma took the harness and with nimble fingers began to straighten out the knotted leather. She clucked her tongue with disapproval. “You keep forgetting that it takes ninety minutes to go ten miles. We will be admonished by the brethren if we keep showing up late.”

He leaned over to brush a kiss across her
kapp.
“Ah, Emma, they know we’re newlyweds. They’ll give us some leeway.”

She pulled the last straps loose and pushed the harness up against his chest. “We’ve been married almost two years, Jamie. We’re not newlyweds anymore. You must get used to the idea that you can’t wait until the last minute to leave.” She heard the sternness in her voice and immediately felt ashamed. He was trying so hard. Perhaps she should learn to be more patient, especially as he was head of the household. A wife shouldn’t chastise a husband…at least, not very often.

Emma stretched up on tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “I’m going to refill the ice in the cooler while you bring the buggy around. When we get there, we’ll be there. The Lord knows we love Him in our hearts…our tardy hearts.”

As she walked back to James’ childhood home, Emma stewed about more than sneaking into preaching services during the first sermon. Her mother-in-law still treated her like a guest—a favored summer visitor who was vacationing from another country—and not like the wife of her son.

His mom still invited James to social events at her English church. And she often still looked surprised when he came downstairs for breakfast wearing his solid plain clothes—as though he were playacting for a historical exhibition that soon would end.

It had been almost three years since James had been baptized and committed his life both to Christ and to a simpler lifestyle. Did Barbara Davis resent Emma? It didn’t seem so, but how hard it must be for her to accept the fact that her son had left the world she and her husband had raised him in.

Emma crept quietly into the kitchen, but she found Mrs. Davis sitting at the table sipping coffee. Her Sunday school materials were spread out for last-minute review.

“Hello,” she said. “You two are still here?”

“Jah,
we are.” Emma’s answer was succinct and unnecessary. An uncomfortable silence spun out in the tidy room while Emma filled the cooler from the automatic ice dispenser. She hoped she didn’t sound curt, but she didn’t want to criticize her husband by mentioning their tardiness.

Her husband. A warm sensation filled her every time she remembered his tender proposal, his conversion to Amish life, and their joyous wedding. James had worn his old Levis for weeks with solid dark shirts, suspenders, and either a black felt or straw hat along with his work boots. After Emma had laid several new pairs of pants she’d sewn herself around their bedroom, he’d finally taken the hint. James had held one up, complemented her sewing, and then said, “But I’ll look exactly the same as everybody else.”

Emma had snaked her arm around his waist. “That’s the point…not to set yourself apart or above anyone else. You will be known to God by what’s in here.” She’d placed her hand on the spot above his heart.

“You’ll still be able to find me in a crowd, right? Like when you wander off on auction day?” He sounded only half joking.

“Without a doubt, I will always find you.”

“All right, then.” He threw the pants over his shoulder and headed off to change. That day, ten pairs of good Levis had gone into the charity bag, and he never went back to English clothes again.

When Emma walked back outside into the yard, James pulled up with their new standardbred horse properly hitched. “Your carriage awaits,” he said, offering his hand for assistance.

“A one-seat buggy is too small to be considered a carriage,” she said, settling herself beside him. “Carriages are even bigger than two-seat surries.”

“I know, but I just like saying it.”

Fortunately, a three-hour service meant that plenty of church still remained when Emma and James slipped in and found seats in the back. Only a few pairs of eyes turned in their direction, and only the retired local schoolteacher looked peeved. James smiled and tipped his hat to her.

He still listened to learn-to-speak-German lessons on a small CD player with earphones while he farmed, so it would be a while before James understood everything said during the service. The Amish read a High German Bible but spoke a colloquial
Deutsch.
Their language must be heard to be learned and could not be studied from any book. The New Order singing was faster and more upbeat than Old Order. Although the service was in German, the ministers occasionally threw in some English.

The only real difference Emma had noticed was that a members’ meeting followed the service before lunch was eaten. They would discuss upcoming community and outreach projects to hospitals and prisons. Their church was even sending a group to Haiti to rebuild schools destroyed by an earthquake. Because Old Order Amish didn’t do missionary work, Emma hoped she wouldn’t be asked to travel to a foreign land. Cleveland and Lancaster County, Pennsylvania, were far enough away for her tastes.

Soon the congregation spilled outdoors into the bright May sunshine. Tables had been set up under the elms for a potluck lunch while the hosts dragged out large coolers of soft drinks. Pitchers of lemonade and iced tea were already waiting in the shade.

James rubbed his palms together in anticipation. “Let’s get the hamper, Emma, and put our stuff on the table. I am starving.” He took her arm as they headed toward their buggy.

Emma waited until they were away from the crowd before she whispered into his ear, “Leave the hamper and cooler, Jamie, and please hitch up the horse. I’m taking that food to my
mamm’s.”

“Your
mamm’s?”
he squawked. “It’ll take us two hours to get to your parents’. Everybody in our district is here and the food is ready to eat.”

She thought she heard his stomach growl to emphasize his point. “Please, Jamie? Can’t we go see my family this afternoon? It’s been weeks and I miss them so much.” She wrung her hands together.

He met her gaze and smiled. “Okay, Emma. Someday I’ll be able to say no to you, hopefully by the time I’m fifty But today isn’t the day, so let’s go visit your folks.” He handed her up into the buggy. “It’s been a while since your
daed
grilled me on my
Deutsch
lessons.”

After hitching up their ornery horse, they started the long drive to Winesburg. Emma had plenty of time to mull over the fact that she’d told only half the truth. The real reason she didn’t want to stay for the afternoon socialization was that her new district intimidated her. Did they have to be so vocal, so loud about their faith? Testifying about personal struggles and shouting “amen” was hard to get used to. Emma much preferred a quieter session with God without creating so much fuss.

Matthew had never been so happy to see his sister as that Sunday when the Davis buggy pulled up the Miller driveway. He had missed Emma plenty since she’d married and moved to her husband’s family farm. But if Emma were there, James would be too. And he needed to talk to an
Englischer,
or rather, a former
Englischer.

In the week since he’d seen Jeff Andrews doing something suspicious at work, he couldn’t think about much else. Andrews treated him the same as always—brusque but civil. He had no idea his actions had been observed. What else was the guy up to behind Mr. Mac’s back? Matthew had heard some talk in the bunkhouse, where the hired help took their meals, but he hadn’t paid much attention. He’d figured those kinds of shady dealings happened near the big horse racing centers in Kentucky and New York, but not in Holmes County, Ohio. And certainly not on a farm where he worked.

“Hi, Emma,” he called. She was walking his way with arms outstretched.

“Guder nachmittag,
Matthew,” she said, wrapping him in a warm hug.

He felt his face turn red enough to blend his freckles together.

“Have you lost weight? Maybe you’ve grown taller. I hope you’re not working too hard between your chores here and at Mr. Mac’s farm.” She finally released her embrace. “I’ve brought a noodle casserole. You’d better eat some or my feelings will be hurt.” Emma rattled on, kissed his cheek, and then headed toward the house to find
mamm.
She didn’t wait to hear any replies.

James Davis had been studying the reunion. “I’ll bet now that she’s married you can get a word in edgewise around the house.” He stuck out his hand. “Good to see you, Matty.”

Matthew shook heartily. “When Emma moved out, Leah took up the slack in the talking department. She always has a story to tell about that diner she works at.”

“Speaking of food, has your family eaten yet? I’m starving! Emma gave me only one peach to tide me over.”

“Jah,
we’ve eaten, but Ma always keeps things warm. She figured you two would show up today, but I have no idea how.”

They walked toward the house, talking like old friends. Matthew couldn’t get over the change in James. Each time he saw him he looked a bit more Plain. Even his deep suntan was gone since now he kept his hat on while working outdoors. Only his accent gave him away. He would probably never sound Amish even when he mastered their mixed language. But that was no big thing. The guy loved Emma enough to leave his worldly conveniences behind, and that meant a lot to Matthew. He didn’t care if he never understood a word his brother-in-law spoke in German. He just hoped he could find someone to love that much some day. But in the meantime he had more important fish to fry.

He waited until James had eaten plenty of fried chicken, steamed greens, noodle casserole, and cheesy potatoes. Then Matthew said, “Say, Jamie, let’s walk out to the barn. There’s something I’d like to show you.”

“Sure,” James readily agreed. “These women will be jaw-boning for hours.”

True enough, Leah was rapid-firing tales from her new job while
mamm
slipped in news and gossip from the district when Leah came up for air. Emma kept up with both lines of conversation effortlessly, throwing in appropriate comments and asking questions of each. The three seemed to be competing in a talk-a-thon.

“They won’t even notice we’re gone,” James said as they left the kitchen.

Matthew waited until they reached the fence line to speak.” I need some advice, Jamie. I saw something at work I didn’t much like, but I’m not anxious to cause a stink and get fired. Jobs aren’t easy to find in this county, and jobs working with horses are plumb impossible.”

He glanced over at James. He’d pulled up a weed to chew but wasn’t about to interrupt.

“I saw the trainer that I apprentice under inject something into a colt’s leg. I figured it had to be steroids—maybe to reduce some swelling. The colt pulled a muscle during a workout. The trainer ain’t supposed to be giving injections, but I think he didn’t want the owners to see their expensive horse limping when they came to visit.”

James scratched at his chin. His beard was well trimmed and growing longer all the time. “He could do more harm than good if he doesn’t inject it exactly into the correct spot. That’s why a vet or vet technician usually administers shots. What are you going to do? Could you talk to him privately? He’ll lose his trainer’s license if word gets out.”

“He and I aren’t exactly pals. I doubt he would appreciate me bringing up the subject.” Matthew watched two hawks circling the pasture. “I don’t rightly know what to do.”

James rested one boot on the bottom fence rail. “You gotta do what’s right…eventually. But I wouldn’t be hasty. Don’t stir up a hornet’s nest over what might be nothing.”

“Thanks. It helps to tell somebody. It’s been eating away at me.”

But, truthfully, he was no closer to knowing what to do than he was a week ago.