by Mary Ellis
“That explains why you didn’t get my letters, and I suppose why you didn’t write.”
Her cheeks flushed to bright pink. “Your mamm gave me your address and I wrote three different times.” She glanced up to catch his expression of confusion. “But I never mailed any of them. I chickened out.” She shifted her focus to the steps where the pigeons had eaten the popcorn and now pecked at seedpods.
Jonah released a perfect imitation of a clucking hen.
She rolled her eyes. “I deserved that, but I was afraid to tell you how badly things had spun out of control. I should’ve confronted April sooner.”
He covered her small hand with his. “It might not have changed a thing. Let’s forget about the past. It’s finally over for you.”
His touch warmed her to her toes. “I was so happy to see you in the courtroom. Did you come to hear the testimony—to find out if what folk said was true?” She glanced at his handsome face.
“Nope. I didn’t hitch up my buggy and leave before dawn to hear what Mrs. Lambright had to say. And I have no need for gossip to know what’s going on. I know you, Leah Miller, and you would no more cheat somebody or the State of Ohio than you’d take up bareback barrel-racing.” He tightened his grip on her hand.
She pondered that mental picture and grinned. But when she opened her mouth to reply, no words came out. A knot had formed in her throat as her emotions boiled to the surface.
“How about if I drive you home? Then you can tell me your plans as you don’t have a job anymore. Maybe you could open another diner. I think I spotted a rundown, abandoned gristmill on my way into town. At least three sides are still standing.”
Leah stood and pulled Jonah to his feet. “Let’s go tell Mrs. Lee and Emma they can start for home since I’ve got a ride. But we are not looking at any gristmills on the way back—even if I have to put on a pair of blinders.”
“I am so glad that ordeal is over!” said Emma, watching the passing scenery. “Now my little sister can get a decent night’s sleep.”
The drive back to Charm from Millersburg took the three Davises through some of the prettiest countryside in the state. Everywhere you looked Amish farmers were preparing their fields for a long winter rest. The upright tied bundles of cornstalks reminded her of her daed’s old-fashioned ways.
“You have no idea how that gal tossed and turned and punched her pillow,” Emma continued. “I couldn’t sleep a wink those three nights at mamm’s.” She had stopped referring to her parents’ farm as home. She was part of her husband’s family now.
“Maybe she couldn’t sleep from all your snoring, dear one,” James said, not taking his eyes off the twisty road.
Emma angled a glare. “Don’t make up tall tales in front of your brother. We both know I don’t snore.”
James patted her knee. “Well, I think you’ll sleep good tonight.” He leaned forward to wink at Kevin.
She looked from one brother to the other. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to go straight home. All that courtroom drama has worn me out. I’d love to rest before making dinner.”
James laughed. “Straight home is where we’re headed, but catching a nap in the sunroom is out of the question.”
Emma turned suspicious. “What are you two cooking up?”
“Words would only spoil the surprise, fraa. Wait and see. I’ll not say another word.” When he set his jaw with that determined pose, she knew she wouldn’t get another word on the subject.
Fortunately, Emma didn’t have long to ponder the mystery. And words couldn’t describe the scene they encountered as they drove up Hollyhock Lane. Three flatbed lumber trucks, in various stages of being unloaded, sat along the gravel road leading to James and Emma’s plot of land. Cars, pickup trucks, and at least forty buggies were lined up in the recently mown meadow. A billowing white tent had been set up with tables and chairs, just like the one used for barn raisings. And people seemed to be everywhere—carrying stacks of lumber, ladders, scaffolds, buckets of tools, containers of water, or plates of food. Kevin pulled the truck to the side to view the panorama. A beehive in spring was no more frenetic with activity.
In her heart, Emma knew what she was seeing but was too bashful to believe her eyes. “What’s going on, James Davis?”
“I thought you wanted me all to yourself. If you’ve changed your mind, I’ll just tell these folk to go on home.” He opened the truck door and stepped out for a better view.
She scrambled out right on his heels. “These people are here to build our new house?” she squeaked.
“Every single one of them. And I sure hope they know what they’re doing. I’d hate to end up with stairways going nowhere or doors that open up into solid walls.” He wiggled his eyebrows.
Emma punched his arm playfully. “Oh, Jamie! Why didn’t you tell me about today? I could’ve helped your mamm get ready. I’ll bet she’s been cooking up a storm.”
James brushed a kiss across the top of her head. “That would have ruined the whole concept of surprise.”
She peered up at him. “But on the same day as Leah’s hearing? We could’ve been stuck in that courtroom all afternoon.”
“That was the tricky part. The pastor organized our district to come out today and tomorrow. Some folk took vacation days. Dad and I compiled lists of material and scheduled deliveries for early morning. The farm foreman divided the men into work teams, and I hired a group of professional carpenters to run the show. All that would have been hard to change after you mentioned your sister’s hearing, so I hoped and prayed for the best. The foundation and basement were put in weeks ago so they would set up in time. I can’t believe you hadn’t noticed when you took one of your afternoon walks.”
Emma remembered the night she’d fallen asleep in the pinewoods, was rained on, and run into Jamie in the barn. She shuddered inwardly for the self-righteous way she had behaved. “I haven’t taken that path in a while. I confined my walks to the river and back.”
“You’ll soon be able to see your favorite forest from our back porch.” He encircled her waist with both arms and hugged. “Are you happy, Mrs. Davis? Or should I tell everybody to pack up and go home and we’ll just live with Mom and Dad forever?”
She turned within his embrace. “You are impossible! I hope your mamm knows how much I appreciate…” Emma’s voice broke with emotion. The past years spent in the Davis household with Jamie’s family had been loving and kind. She didn’t deserve what was happening before her eyes.
James kissed her forehead, her nose, and then her lips. “She knows, Em, and she loves you too. But the time has come for this Davis family to be on their own.”
Kevin crept up to stand beside them and for a minute, the three just watched the work happening down below. “I hate to break up this lovey-dovey scene, but you can’t wait up here until the house is finished. Let’s go, you two. There’s plenty to be done if we want the roof on and windows in before the first snow.” He grabbed Emma’s sleeve and James’ arm and pulled them back to the truck.
Emma went eagerly. She couldn’t wait to greet her friends and neighbors who had taken time off to build them a house. She couldn’t wait to help feed the hungry workers who were laboring on their behalf. And she couldn’t wait to move into the little house high on the ridge near her beloved pine forest.
God had shone His mercy on Leah today, and He still had some left over for her too. The Miller girls were blessed after all. And she would never forget this day or cease being grateful for the rest of her life.
December, second Sunday of Advent
Matthew loved December. Workloads grew lighter as hours of daylight waned. He enjoyed walking in fields touched with frost on crisp mornings. Before long the deep cold would set in, covering the world in a thick layer of white. With the preaching service at the Miller home today, he’d risen early to set out the long benches in the barn and build a fire in Emma’s old woodstove. Hymnals still needed to be passed out and tables put up for lunch, but for a
few moments he looked over the rolling hills of Holmes County. Nothing could compare with the peace and silence of a Sunday morning in winter.
He, Henry, and Leah had helped mamm clean house all week. If any ladies chose to drag a gloved finger along their windowsills, they would find no dust for their efforts. Not that any of them would do such a thing. Matthew thought women fretted too much over inconsequential things like dust, streaky windows, or whether the raisins in the oatmeal cookies hardened during baking—Leah’s pet peeve that morning.
A man tended to worry about the important things in life—whether he was living in a way pleasing to God, to his family, and to his community; whether he enjoyed his work and if it could sustain him for a lifetime; and if he had somebody who could tolerate him enough to share that life. Matthew felt fairly confident about the first two, but he had made no progress on the third since Martha Hostetler accepted a ride home with John Yoder. Were they courting? Had he proposed? Matt didn’t know and was too shy to ask Rachel or Leah. He’d also been too shy to return to district social events. What was the point? No gal wanted a beau with red hair and an untamable cowlick, whose own sister had called a barbarian. Perhaps it was his fate to be admired by females solely of the equine persuasion. Mares and fillies didn’t seem to mind his lack of conversation skills or the way he wolfed down a meal.
As the first buggy rumbled up their driveway, he scrambled to finish preparations and then hurried into the house to don his Sunday clothes. Without much inclination to greet neighbors as they arrived, and with a strong desire not to see any of the Hostetlers, Matthew waited until the church service was ready to start before slipping into the last row. But try as he might, he couldn’t keep the sweet face of Martha off his mind.
“Pay attention,” warned Henry. “The service has begun and you seem to be a million miles away.” He jabbed his elbow into his bruder’s side.
Matthew shook off his daydream and concentrated on the first Scripture reading and then the hymns, followed by the initial sermon delivered by his daed. He willed himself not to look in the direction of Mrs. Hostetler or her daughter Rachel. Because he knew if he craned his head left or right, Martha would be somewhere in the vicinity. And seeing her soft green eyes and peaches-and-cream complexion wasn’t something he needed today. His heart ached enough the way it was.
The three-hour service seemed longer than six hours that morning, but finally it was over. Matthew fled the barn without stopping to talk to his friends. He hadn’t seen some of his pals since finishing the contract work in Sugar Creek, but catching up would have to wait for when there was no chance of running into the girl who had broken his heart. He headed straight for the horse pens, where the new acquisitions were still separated from the main stock. He had time to kill before the women brought out lunch to the long tables. And he would just as soon spend that time right there.
One or two of the rescues from the kill pen stood out from the rest. Although he’d been pleased with the progress he and Henry had made with the lot, a haflinger filly had captured his heart. She’d been weak and emaciated when he’d bought her, with more than one digestive woe. Dr. Longo had saved her life and accepted no compensation for his hard work. She’d been steadily gaining weight and thriving ever since. Matthew fed her a handful of dandelion heads every day as a digestive aid. His Aunt Hannah called dandelions antacids for horses, and she’d picked several burlap bagfuls before the first frost killed the plants to the roots. She’d spread them out to dry on her worktable and then presented them bow-tied as though a special gift. Aunt Hannah had taken a shine to Sam. As did her son, Ben, and just about everyone else who laid eyes on her. Several had offered to purchase her when rehabilitation was complete, but this was one horse Matthew would be hard pressed to part with.
When he reached the paddock and whistled through his teeth, Sam came running. With her dark eyes flashing and silky blond mane flying in the breeze she looked impressive, if still on the lean side. He reached through the rails to scratch her nose and received a soft whinny for his efforts.
“Matthew Miller, I hope you’re not doing any training over there, this being the Lord’s day and all.”
The cherished voice of Martha Hostetler rang in his ears, causing the hairs on his neck to stand straight up. He wheeled around and almost knocked her down in the tall grass. How she’d crept up without his knowledge was a mystery. “No, ma’am. I was just having a private conversation with my favorite student, no work involved.”
Martha leaned up against the paddock rails to stroke the horse’s flank. Surprisingly, Sam didn’t shy away from the unfamiliar hand. “Well, I must say you picked a beauty to chitchat with. I guess I can’t blame you for running out the moment the service was over. What’s her name?”
“Miss Hostetler, this is Sam. Sam, I’d like you to meet Miss Martha Hostetler.”
Both species of females peered at him oddly. Martha ducked her head low to assess the animal’s underbelly. “I do believe this is a girl horse.”
“Sam is short for Samantha.”
“Have you lost your mind?” she asked, fighting back a smile. She reached up to scratch an ear.
Matthew blushed nearly to the color of his hair. “It’s possible. I guess I spend too much time with horses since you took up with John Yoder.”
She stopped stroking the beast and turned to face him. “Took up with John Yoder? Is that what you think?” She squinted in the sunlight.
“Jah, I saw him taking you home from a singing a couple months ago.” Matthew steeled his resolve and met her gaze. “I assumed you two were courting.”
She clucked her tongue. “That was some very serious jumping to conclusions, I’d say. He took me home, jah, but I nearly dozed off along the way. All he talked about was baseball. Since he began Rumschpringe he listens to Cleveland Indians games on a transistor radio. I can’t see the big deal about hitting a ball with a stick and then running around a bunch of sandbags.”
He smirked. “I’m not much of a fan either. So…you two aren’t courting?”
“No, and you would know that if you bothered to come to a social outing now and then.”
He scuffed his shiny black Sunday shoes in the dirt. “That’s very interesting,” he mumbled, feeling like an idiot.
Martha turned her attention back to Sam. “Say, is this one of the horses you and Henry rescued?” she asked. “I need to stop by on a day other than the Sabbath to take one off your hands. I appreciate what you did, and I’d like to buy one for my open buggy, if any are suitable.” Her smile revealed perfectly straight teeth and her generous heart.
“This one is the best of the lot. Her problems were strictly medical. Once Dr. Longo cleared up bad digestion, she’s been the easiest horse to train. She responds to verbal commands, besides the reins. She would make a great buggy horse.”
Martha patted Sam’s neck. “I don’t recognize the breed.”
“She’s a haflinger from Austria, bred originally to work in the mountains for farming and as a pack horse. They’re good for light draft work, harness, driving, even saddle riding, if you want to follow in Rachel’s footsteps.” He clamped his jaw closed before he landed in the same category as John Yoder with baseball.
“I have no intention of climbing onto her back, but she is a beauty.”
“She’s not the only one.” Matthew spoke the words so softly they may not have been heard.
But Martha’s blushing cheeks indicated otherwise. “Don’t change the subject. I believe I want this horse when you’re done training…if, of course, you set a fair price.” She winked at him without an ounce of shyness. “But right now my stomach is growling for food. Do you think there’ll be anything left for us?”
“I’m sure there will be, and you’ll find my price for the horse quite reasonable,” he said, deciding to make Sam a Christmas gift if things went well between them. He stuck out his arm. “Why not grab hold on our way to lunch? You never know when a gopher hole lurks beneath the lea
ves to trip you.”
She rolled her eyes but took his elbow just the same. “I brought my lemon bars for the dessert table. If memory serves correctly, you were fond of them.”
Matthew couldn’t stop grinning, and it had nothing to do with lemon bars. Martha was walking by his side, and she actually seemed to like him.
He would probably be smiling up until New Year’s.
“Git up there, Bo,” Emma called. She grabbed at the reins in Jamie’s hands. “Can’t you make this former race horse go any faster?” She tugged the wool blanket up to her chin.
“Easy, fraa. It’s a long way to Winesburg with plenty of hills in between. Let’s not tire him. We’ll get there by and by.” Just the same, Jamie clucked his tongue and Bo marginally picked up the pace.
“You seem awfully calm for a man who yesterday was jumping up and down and shouting to the hills at the top of his lungs.” Emma snuggled close to his side.
Jamie put an arm around her shoulders. “The news that you’re pregnant did make my day, and I thought the people living in Canton might like to hear about it”
“It is a blessing, jah, but don’t use that term for me—say ‘with child’ or ‘expecting a bopplin.’ My old-fashioned daed thinks only horses, cows, or hogs should be described as pregnant.”
James laughed. “How do you think your parents will react? Has Simon finally accepted the fact I’m not going to shave off my beard and run off with a pack of English motorcycle riders?”
Emma tried to pinch his arm, but too many layers of wool made it impossible. “Daed likes you just fine. He grunts and groans a lot around everybody.”
“We’ll have to see if his reaction can match that of my parents. Dad just stared dumbfounded for a while, and then he blushed and hugged me, something he never does. And my mom? She crossed her arms and said, ‘Right after moving into your new house? I would’ve gotten this project going sooner if I’d known that’s all it would take.’ ”