by Mary Ellis
“Dear ehemann, content yourself with the corn already planted. It should be sufficient to generate the income you desire. Don’t put all your eggs into one basket.”
Seth held her hand for another minute. It felt small and soft against his calloused palm. He would think on this long and hard. She was probably right—it was too late to set more corn. But what profits could be made with those additional acres. He dared not even add them up in his head, lest the Lord learn just how money oriented and greedy he had become.
Was she doing it again—bossing her husband around and telling him his business on a farm she only married into last year? Her brother-in-law had counseled her on a wife’s role in a Christian marriage. It hadn’t taken her long to veer from the path. The house was her domain—she could make decisions there freely, short of painting the walls pumpkin orange. But financial concerns, especially those regarding day-to-day management of the farm, were a man’s responsibility.
Let your husband lead you. Even when he stumbles or falls, do not criticize. Your joys will be multiplied and your prayers will be answered. Simon’s words echoed in her ears as though he were whispering to her from the porch.
Hannah snapped back from her reverie to find Seth still cradling her hand within his. He wore a sad, resigned look on his face. “Have I overstepped my bounds?” she asked. “Have I annoyed you with my pushiness?”
Seth squeezed her fingers as a smile crinkled the skin around his eyes into deep folds. “No, dear one, you haven’t. I asked for your opinion, and you gave it.”
Hannah exhaled the breath she’d been holding. “I stand behind you, Seth, whatever your decision.”
“Danki. I’ll ponder the matter, but you’re probably right. It’s too late in the season to plant any more corn. We’ll hope for a good harvest with what we already planted. Now I had better start cutting wheat since it won’t cut itself while I daydream about vast riches.” He offered one last crooked grin, released her hand, and strode from the room.
Being a good wife was no easy job. A wife walked a thin line if she wanted to be helpful without being domineering. A man needed respect, while a woman needed love most of all. Did Seth know how much she respected him? His transition from widower to husband must have been difficult. One look at the kitchen confirmed she was no Constance.
Hannah glanced around the messy room and giggled. It did look like a giant tomato explosion. Shaking her head, she turned the gas burners back up to high. The sooner she finished canning vegetable juice and putting up tomatoes, the sooner she could put her kitchen in order.
God would put their life in order too, according to His plan. She would not concern herself with what grew in their fields. With a house to tend, garden vegetables to can, and a child to nurture, she had her hands full. God had answered her prayers for an end to loneliness when He brought Seth and her together. Maybe if she showed some faith, an answer would come for her other prayer too.
“What are you doin’, Emma?” Matthew climbed up to the top rail of the forcing pen. His hat was tipped back while he chewed a long piece of hay.
When Emma glanced up, he appeared to be laughing at her. “What does it look like, bruder? I’m trying to wash mud off some of my sheep.” Emma had managed to separate the untidiest sheep from the flock and herded them into the narrow chute. However, trying to get them to stand still long enough to use the long-handled brush was a different story.
“Why are you doing that?” Matthew asked, scratching absently at a mosquito bite.
Emma looked away from her task, just long enough for an irritable ewe to knock the hand holding the garden hose. A stream of water hit her squarely in the face, besides drenching the front of her dress and apron.
“Oh, my goodness,” she exclaimed, stunned by the cool spray of water.
Matthew hopped down and took hold of her sleeve. “Come out of there before you get hurt.” He pulled her from the pen and latched the gate behind them. “Now tell me again who’s supposed to be getting the bath?” He handed her his clean handkerchief.
“Apparently me. These sheep refuse to be cleaned up.” She cast them a frosty glare before walking outside to the bright sunshine.
Matthew leaned over and whispered in her ear, “No one ever gives a sheep a bath.”
Emma flapped her apron and shook her skirt to hasten drying. “I don’t know why not. If they were clean before they were sheared, I’d have less trouble on my hands with their wool. My shearer is coming in two days.” Emma pulled off her kapp irritably and shook it out. “Not much else has gone right today, either. A bee stung me while I was taking down the laundry. Then that ornery Curly head-butted me when I was moving her rope.”
Matthew appeared to be holding back hysterics.
The frosty glare focused on him. “I don’t know if I should be grateful for my last birthday gift or tell you to try to get your money back.” She put her soggy head covering back on. In general, Emma felt hot, sweaty, and miserable. Her foot throbbed where she’d walked barefoot over a bee. And the impromptu shower in the barn hadn’t helped matters.
“I might be able to make it up to you, sister,” Matthew said, sounding mysterious as he hopped up on the gate. He never could remain stationary for long.
Emma arched an eyebrow. “How’s that? What are you up to, young man?” In truth, she was only two years his senior, but since her Rumschpringe she felt much older.
His crooked smile lit up his face. “I asked daed if I could go to Mount Hope on Friday to watch the horse pull competition. They’re having one before the draft horse sale in the field behind the auction barn. He said I couldn’t go alone and not with Henry, either. He said I would let him wander off, which of course I wouldn’t.” Matthew sounded indignant, because he spent a good amount of time watching out for his little brother.
Emma smoothed the wet creases out in her skirt. “And…?” she prompted. “I must finish chores and help Leah…”
“And I said to Pa, ‘How ’bout if I go with Emma? She’s sixteen.’ ” He spit out a wad of chewed up hay. “What do you think?”
Emma pondered while she glanced toward her sheep pasture. The mud-caked animals had backed their way out of the confining pen until they were able to turn around, and now they were merrily headed back to the flock. Her aunt had never explained how willful these creatures could be. The idea of a Friday evening in town sounded like a welcome diversion, even though horses dragging around a weighted sleigh had never appealed to her before.
“What did daed say?” She tried not to sound too excited. After all, she was a mature woman.
“He said, jah, okay, as long as we have fresh batteries for the buggy lights. He doesn’t like us driving after dark.” Matthew started to swing his long legs. “What do you say? Could ya stand being seen with your lit’l bruder for one evening?”
“I sure could, danki. I can’t wait to see real live people and not just critters covered up to their bellies with mud.”
“You’ve never been to a horse weekend. Some of those sellers and trainers get mighty dirty too.” He hopped down from the gate and loped off toward the milking parlor to his afternoon chores.
But Emma didn’t care how muddy the other people were because an idea had occurred. James was a horse breeder and trainer. He often sold young colts and fillies that he didn’t need. The Mount Hope horse auction came only once a month. Maybe, just maybe, a bit of luck—and not another bee sting—might come her way.
Emma tried to keep a mouse-sized profile until Friday. She did all her chores and helped Leah in the kitchen even when it wasn’t her night to cook. But mamm’s arthritis wasn’t cooperating with her Friday night outing. That morning at breakfast Julia announced they were going to Canton to see the specialist. The medicine and pain relievers had become ineffective in bringing relief.
For a moment Emma was disappointed, but there would be other horse pulls in Mount Hope. Mamm’s suffering had become a seven-day-a-week agony. “All right. Matthew and I will
stay home with Leah and Henry,” she said, mustering a pleasant smile. “Shall we plan a late supper for you and daed?”
“No, we’ll eat in Canton. And Henry and Leah are coming with us. Mr. Lee said there’s room in the van, and they both want to go.” Julia reached over to tilt up Emma’s chin. “There’s no reason to stay home once your chores are done. You and Matthew can go as long as you’re both careful.” Pain reduced her smile to a grimace.
“Are you sure? Maybe I should go to Canton with you,” Emma said.
“Ach, no. The van would be too crowded. Don’t worry so, daughter. This is just an ordinary doctor’s appointment.”
“Danki, mamm.” Emma kissed Julia’s cheek and then flew out to her chores. Anticipation began to build in her veins. By three o’clock, the hour Matthew had decided upon, steam would be ready to whistle from her ears.
With the rest of the family gone, she saw no reason to make a big lunch. She carried a sandwich, an apple, and a cold drink to the horse paddock where Matthew was trying to train a rebellious colt.
“What are we having for supper?” he asked in between bites of his sandwich.
Emma perched her hands on her hips. “You haven’t even finished lunch and you’re already worried about dinner?”
“Sure, I’m worried. Leah and mamm are gone.” He winked and took a huge bite.
She ignored his taunt. “We’ll have a bowl of soup and some hardboiled eggs before we leave, but I don’t want to fuss with a big meal. I’ll treat you to a hot dog and ice cream in Mount Hope. Let’s be ready to go promptly so we’ll have plenty of time. Hurry with your chores.” She turned and headed toward the henhouse.
“Don’t get yourself too worked up, Emma. He probably won’t be there tonight.”
She stopped in her tracks. “Who do you mean?”
“You know exactly who I’m talking about. Horse pulls aren’t a big deal for Englischers since they don’t own draft horses. They like tractor pulls or drag races better.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m going to look at horses. Poor old Belle shouldn’t be hitched to the pony cart anymore. She’s too old.”
Matthew shook his head. “Whatever you say. I’ll be ready on time.”
And the boy was true to his word. Ten minutes past three o’clock they were trotting down the county road to Mount Hope. Emma felt like singing, but she didn’t dare. Then her bruder would know just how happy she felt with even a chance of seeing James.
Instead, she counted fence posts, then silos, and finally filed her nails down with an emery board. She didn’t fool anyone with her distractions.
“You really like this James, don’t you?” Matthew asked.
Emma considered denying it, but that would be lying. “Jah, I do.”
“ ’Spose you’ve got lots of folks telling you what a bad idea that is.” He glanced over as she nodded yes. “Then I’ll just keep quiet and save my energy.”
“ Danki very much,” she said wryly, wondering how anyone kept things secret.
But soon Emma had no time to ponder. Mount Hope was bustling with people—Amish, English, tourists, and farmers out for some harmless fun. Vendors had set up booths to sell food and beverages. So many buggies had arrived, the Miller siblings had to park quite a distance from the activities. But neither minded the long walk as they searched the crowd for familiar faces.
When Matthew sauntered over to talk to a group of school chums, Emma stood in line to buy their hot dogs. He chose to eat his supper with his friends close to the arena, but she preferred dining under a shady tree, away from the fly-populated horse pens.
“Why, Miss Miller,” a voice said over her shoulder. “You came to a demonstration on the power of four-legged beasts? I’m rather surprised.”
Emma nearly jumped out of her black boots. She still hadn’t replaced the lost tennis shoes. “Hello, James. Still sneaking up on people, I see.” She managed to swallow down the dry hot dog bun.
“I wouldn’t have thought the competition would interest a delicate female such as yourself.”
Emma pivoted to face him squarely, shocked by how close he was standing. The second jolt was due to how handsome he looked. His tanned arms bulged from beneath the short sleeves of his cotton shirt. The collar was open, as well as the first two buttons. She saw that even his chest was deeply suntanned, leading her to imagine him working his fields without any shirt at all.
Emma pulled her gaze from his chest and stared at the ground. Her face flushed a deep rose. “I like horses just fine. Most girls…women do.” So he wouldn’t get the notion she’d come tonight to moon after him, she added, “I’m here to price horses to pull my pony cart.”
Graciously, James said nothing about her staring at him, but he seemed to stand straighter than before. “Ah, you might want to see the Appaloosas they’ll be auctioning tomorrow—beautiful animals, gentle and intelligent. Would you like to take a look at them, Emma?”
He offered his arm like an old-fashioned gentleman.
She almost took hold but then remembered the gossip her daed had heard at the harness maker’s. Her hand slipped down to her side. “Thank you, but I don’t suspect there are any slippery patches along the way.” She took a step toward the barns.
“In that case, I can’t wait till winter. Then you’ll walk a little closer, and I can pretend you’re really my girl.”
He spoke the last words softy, but Emma heard him clearly. She felt warmth in her belly and halted in the thoroughfare. Folks behind them were forced to detour around. “Why would you do that?” she asked. “You’re off to college soon.”
“Because nothing in this world would make be happier, and going to college doesn’t change that.”
Emma felt a little faint—too many jostling people and too much late-summer humidity. The hot dog sat like a lead weight in her belly. “Could we go back to talking horses, please?” she pleaded.
“If you prefer,” James said. “Let’s tell your brother we’re going in the horse barn so he doesn’t worry.”
She nodded, sorry she hadn’t thought of that. They easily found him; he was half a head taller than his pals.
Matthew took one look at James and started to smirk. “Hi,” he crowed. “What a surprise! I didn’t think you’d be interested in draft horses.”
“I love all horses.” James extended his hand. “Good to see ya again, Matt.”
They shook hands, while Matthew’s Amish friends kept glancing from one to the other.
“We’re going inside just for a minute,” Emma said. “I need to look at ponies if I’m going to retire Belle.”
“Sure, we’ll be over at the pull. It’s getting ready to start.” Matthew tipped his hat and walked off, his friends following after him. One of them looked over his shoulder at Emma curiously.
Emma exhaled through her nostrils. “I hope he doesn’t make a big thing out of this.”
“Of what, Em?” James sounded confused.
“Of you…and me…oh, never mind. I’m worried about nothing.” She smiled politely, remembering it wasn’t James’ fault that an Amish girl’s behavior was limited compared to that of English girls.
They found the smaller horses indoors. Although she had no intention of parting with any hard-earned money for a new pony yet, it was fun to compare and discuss different breeds. Emma easily picked out a favorite.
James agreed with her choice of an Appaloosa filly. “You’ve got a good eye. You have talents you’ve kept hidden from me.” He gently tucked a stray lock inside her kapp.
Emma felt her heartbeat quicken and her palms grow damp. “You mustn’t touch my face in public,” she whispered. “It’s not proper.” She found herself on the verge of tears.
Not because he’d caressed her face, but because she had enjoyed it so much…and because she had wanted him to continue.
This cannot be.
Emma shook herself as though waking from a dream.
“Yes, it shall be an Appaloosa
when I’m ready to buy. Thank you for sharing your expertise with me.” She bobbed her head formally. “Now let’s return to my brother so I can watch the horse-pulling competition.”
“Of course,” he said, looking abashed.
Emma forced herself to put one foot in front of the other to walk out the door. So much of her wanted to remain alone with James in the horse barn—surrounded by buyers and sellers, yet somehow alone just the same.
August
Hullo, fraa. Is lunch almost ready?” Seth called, breaking Hannah’s daydreaming.
Hannah straightened up very slowly, allowing each vertebra in her spine to ease back into place. Spasms in her arms and shoulders reminded her she had been picking vegetables for a long while. Shielding her eyes from the sun’s glare with her hand, she spotted Seth by the garden gate. “Lunch?” she called. “How could you be hungry already? Didn’t we just eat breakfast?”
“Hours ago, my dear wife. It’s well past noon.” Seth sauntered through the green beans, looking annoyingly fresh. How could the man spend the morning tilling between rows of sweet corn and not look as limp as a dishrag? Her shoes were scuffed, her apron was dirty, her dress was pasted to her back, and her scalp prickled beneath her kapp. She could just imagine what she looked like.
“How goes your day?” he asked when he reached her, midway down a row. He took the basket of beans from her grasp.
“I’ve been going round in circles. I suffered plenty of scratches to pick enough blackberries to make jam, and then Turnip ate half the bucket while my back was turned.”
Her husband grinned from ear to ear. “Maybe he thought you picked them for him.” Seth rocked back on his heels.
“That dog is supposed to be guarding sheep, not thieving in the berry patch. Then I only got half the peaches picked before spotting a hornet’s nest at arm’s length. I had to leave the rest behind. Suddenly, everything in the garden has ripened at once, needing to be picked and canned before it starts to rot.” She wiped her sleeve across her forehead, leaving behind a smear of dirt.