Never Far From Home (The Miller Family 2)

by Mary Ellis

  Their host tasted the first glass from the press, declared it too tart and stirred in castor sugar. At long last, the batch was pronounced acceptable and folks lined up for a sample. Emma accepted a glass of cider and moved away from the crowd. She found a quiet spot near the door to sip and watch without becoming part of the hubbub. She especially wanted to avoid Sarah Hostetler and Sam Yoder. Seeing those two together, laughing and talking, reminded Emma of the fourth member of their group.

  But she refused to be drawn back into despair. Despite herself, Emma was having a good time at the frolic. Sometimes if you acted as though you were having fun, life started moving in that direction.

  “Whew, there you are, sister.” A panting Leah joined her in the doorway with her kapp askew and the bottom of her hem muddy.

  “Jah, here I am. Where have you been? Stomping around in the bog?” Emma was glad to see her sister acting like a child instead of a mini-version of mamm.

  “A friend and I challenged two boys to a race to the pasture fence and we won.” Joy radiated from her face while her breath came in great gulps.

  “Was one boy limping and did the other have a cast on his foot?” Emma asked.

  “No, neither one.” Leah looked mystified. “Why would you ask that?”

  “Just curious.” Emma smiled as she turned to see the other runner. It was Elizabeth Kauffman, Joseph’s sister. Her thin face was streaked with perspiration. “Hullo, Elizabeth,” Emma said.

  “Hi, Emma. I’m glad you remember me from the singing. You haven’t been back since.” When Elizabeth smiled, her plain face took on unusual prettiness.

  “I’ve been busy around the house, but I’ll come to another singing very soon.”

  “Your sister and I are getting in line for supper. Will you sit with us? They’re having ham, hot potato salad, and plenty of cold salads.”

  “All right,” Emma said. “That way I can make sure Leah takes one of my desserts to get the ball rolling.”

  Leah snaked an arm around Emma’s waist, but not before she pinched her sister’s arm. “I’ll be the first guinea pig since I know they’re delicious.”

  With plates of food, the three girls found space at a table far away from the buffet line. Emma had just popped a baby beet into her mouth when Leah sprang to her feet. “We forgot drinks. I’ll get us some cider.”

  “I’ll help you carry them,” Elizabeth declared. Off they scurried as though every movement should be deemed a race to the pasture fence.

  “Good evening, Miss Miller…eh, Emma. Mind if I join you girls for supper?”

  Emma swallowed hard and gazed into the near black eyes of Joseph Kauffman. His silky hair hung almost in his eyes. He desperately needed a haircut.

  “Sure, sit there,” she said, pointing to the other side of the table.

  “Mind if I sit here?” he asked, gesturing to the spot beside her. “Then I won’t have to carry this all the way around. He set down his plate as a corn muffin toppled off the pile. “I’m afraid I made a pig of myself.” He stepped over the bench and squeezed in beside her.

  “It’s the cool weather that makes a person hungrier.” She glanced again at his meal, amazed that someone could eat like that and remain thin.

  He noticed her focus. “Anything you care to sample, Emma? You can help herself.”

  She felt herself blush. “No, danki. I’ve taken more than enough on my plate.” She turned her attention to cutting her ham into very small pieces until the girls returned. While they ate, Leah and Elizabeth chattered about everything under the sun, from who brought the wormiest apples to who would host the next singing. Emma had begun to relax when she realized Leah was purposefully trying to draw her and Joseph into conversation.

  “I don’t see a Rice Krispies square on your plate, Joseph,” Leah stated, pointing accusingly with her index finger.

  “Perhaps he wishes to go home with all his teeth intact,” Emma said, as she tried to kick Leah under the table. She connected with the table leg instead.

  “Oh, no,” Leah argued. “Your Rice Krispies squares aren’t too sticky. They’re always soft and crunchy. Emma makes the best desserts, but she’s too modest to admit it.” Leah directed this assertion at both of the Kauffmans.

  Emma rolled her eyes and concentrated on eating. “I’ll tell you what’s really good—this ham! The glaze has plenty of brown sugar and molasses.”

  “Joseph, some day you’ll have to try Emma’s Apple Betty bars. They’re loaded with brown sugar too.”

  “I have had that pleasure, Leah. And I must agree they’re wunderbaar.”

  Emma drained her cup and held it out to Leah. “Could you please get more cider? I’m blocked in and I’m still parched dry. Danki.” She smiled graciously.

  Leah looked puzzled. “Sure, Emma,” she replied and dashed off with the empty cup. For some reason, Elizabeth jumped up to follow.

  Emma released an audible sigh of relief. “I hope my younger sister isn’t making you uncomfortable. She seems bound and determined to make me look good in your eyes and has the subtlety of a rooster at dawn.” Emma stared down at her plate.

  Joseph laughed without embarrassment. “I’m not the least bit uncomfortable, Emma. We’re friends, remember? We agreed to that at the singing. And Leah needn’t worry about my opinion of you. I thought highly of you the first time we met. Never let little sisters get under your skin. I seldom pay much attention to mine.” He pushed away his plate and wiped his hands on a napkin. “I’m going to take the rest. It’s too much to waste and I’m full.”

  “ Danki for not running for the door.” Emma finished her potato salad and pickled cucumbers. Her appetite was finally returning.

  “Will you do me a favor?” he asked. “I want to ask this now before Miss-Buttinsky-one-and-two come back with the drinks.”

  Emma wiped her mouth and hands. “What kind of favor? Send Elizabeth and Leah on a wild goose chase for the rest of the night?”

  One corner of his mouth lifted and a smile filled his angular face. “I’d like you to sit with me on the hayride tonight.” He looked away. “Truth is I love hayrides, but I can’t bear to go on another one alone or with my sister.” Suddenly, Joseph Kauffman looked earnest and melancholy.

  With his change in demeanor, Emma realized she’d only been thinking about herself. She had agreed to be his friend, and then she made little effort to be friendly. “Of course I will. I was hoping you would save me from sitting with Leah. She keeps pinching my arm. I’ve got purple marks to prove it.”

  “She can ride with Elizabeth. That one is always pulling my hair or doing something ornery. They can sit together and annoy each other.”

  Emma rose from the bench. Joseph held her elbow as she extricated herself from the picnic table with as much dignity as possible. Just as they were about to throw away their trash, the sisters returned with brimming cups of cider.

  “Where are you going? We brought you more to drink.” Elizabeth looked suspicious.

  “Danki, we’ll take these with us,” Joseph said, taking both cups. “I need Emma’s advice on a matter. And I wish to see her new pony. We’ll catch up with you two later. Much later.”

  Emma hurried toward the barn door, trying not to laugh. Leah rather deserved this—she’d been making a nuisance of herself.

  “Should I wrap up your leftovers in foil, bruder?” Elizabeth called.

  “Emma didn’t bring her pony cart today. We came in the wagon.” Leah hollered. Neither received any response.

  When Emma and Joseph reached outdoors, they sped toward the largest oak to hide behind until certain they weren’t being followed. “I think we’ve lost them,” Emma whispered, peering around the trunk. When she glanced back at Joseph, he was watching her oddly.

  “My sister said you and that English fellow weren’t courtin’ anymore and that he went off to college.”

  This was the last topic she wanted to discuss, but she couldn’t be rude. “Jah, that’s true. He’s in Wooster.”
She stared past him at horses silhouetted in the pasture.

  “I know you would never do anything to dishonor yourself. And the fact that you rode around in his pickup truck doesn’t matter a hill of beans to me. You are the finest woman I’ve ever met, and I’m glad you’re my friend.” He crossed his arms over his jacket and waited for her response.

  Problem was, Emma didn’t know what to say. She thought maybe she should thank Joseph for his faith in her, but that sounded rather stiff. She picked up a cup of cider from where he had set them in the grass and drank it down. “I’m glad to hear that, Joseph. Shall we see if they’re loading the hay wagon for the first ride? I’m really getting excited, because I haven’t gone on one in a long time.”

  He tipped his hat and offered his arm as they crossed the lawn toward the farm road. Emma didn’t know what to make of Joseph. The older she got, the more confused she became. Didn’t people say, with age comes wisdom? She hoped some would hurry up and get here already.

  December

  “Git up there,” Seth shouted to his team of Percherons. He threw his full weight against the wagon wheel that was stuck in a deep furrow. His lead horse picked up his ears and pulled hard against the traces, dragging the wheel from the rut. A spray of cold muddy water, smelling faintly of decay, splashed Seth from head to toe. This was his just reward for not paying attention as he drove his team.

  “Ach,” he muttered, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket. With the wagon headed in the right direction, he dared not worry about his appearance right now. He needed to deliver hay to several round stanchions for his cows and horses, and to Hannah’s sheep in another pasture.

  A cold wind cut through his damp jacket and trousers, adding to his discomfort. He would be glad when it turned cold enough to freeze the mud into solid footing for his wagon. This had been the third time he’d become mired this week. But he couldn’t blame the horses for his lack of concentration. Each time he fed the livestock, he remembered the hay had been purchased from a neighboring English farmer—hay he should have grown himself.

  Simon had cautioned against veering from traditional self-sufficiency; even his wife had advised against focusing on one cash crop. But Seth thought he could solve district financial woes with one big harvest. Proverbs 3:5-6 said, “Trust in the Lord with all your heart; do not depend on your own understanding. Seek his will in all that you do, and he will show you which path to take.” But Seth hadn’t done that. He had been a foolish, stubborn man, and now he must pay the price for his pride.

  He would consider himself blessed if he didn’t lose his farm. And his sweet wife and child would face winter with a lean purse because of his misjudgment. For the hundredth time, Seth clenched down on his back molars, wishing he could do things over. Feeling cold, wet, and frustrated, he delivered the rest of the hay to his hungry animals and headed to the pump house to wash up. It was time to face his wife, and he wouldn’t compound her woes by tracking up the kitchen.

  “My goodness, Seth,” Hannah exclaimed, spotting him in the back hall. She stood with her hands on her hips and her green eyes flashing. “Did you wash in the freezing cold pump house? Why didn’t you clean up inside?” She reached for a towel to hand him. “Quick, dry your hair before you catch your death.”

  “I’ll leave my coat on the throw rug since it needs washing.” Seth shucked off his wet garments and then toweled his hair, face, and arms. “I got splashed by the wheels and didn’t want to bring any mud inside.”

  Hannah shook her head. “Danki for that. Come eat some hot stew and get warmed up. Isn’t that the third time you got stuck in the mud? What’s wrong with those horses? Should we buy them glasses next time we’re in town? Sit here by the oven. It’s still warm from this morning. I baked banana bread with the last of those ripe bananas I bought on sale.” She quickly finished preparing lunch.

  Seth let Hannah rattle on the way she usually did when he came in from the fields. While Phoebe was at school, Hannah would save up things to say during the quiet morning and release them in a barrage at lunchtime. Pouring a cup a coffee, he sat down to watch his fireball of a wife unwind.

  Finally, she halted mid-sentence, halfway through a list of the recently announced December weddings. “What’s wrong, Seth? Why are you staring at me like that?” She scooped up two bowls of stew and set them on the table.

  “Hannah,” he said. “Stop flitting around like a bumblebee and sit down.”

  She complied with a forehead creased with worry. “What has happened?”

  Seth tried to smile. “Nothing’s happened, but we need to talk. I’ve been acting like a turtle—pulling my head into my shell, hoping the threat will go away, but I must confess that I was wrong to follow the corn alliance.” He took several slow breaths. “When the price of petroleum fell, so did the price paid for a bushel of corn. Not much demand for ethanol if it costs more to produce than a barrel of fossil oil. We thought…I thought we would reap huge profits to fatten the medical account and replace worn-out equipment, but once I delivered the last of my corn to the elevator, the profits barely covered the cost of extra seed and fertilizer.” He forced himself to pause and not dump the news on her like an avalanche.

  Hannah was sitting in the opposite chair, clutching her mug of lemon tea. “You meant well, Seth. Your heart was in the right place.” She reached for his hand. “We make mistakes. God doesn’t expect us to be perfect, only to keep trying. We all fall short. I expect you’ll return to the old ways come spring.” She winked at him in an attempt to lighten his mood.

  Seth patted her hand. “Jah, that is true, but I’m worried about the months between now and then.” He gazed into her emerald green eyes. “I’ll need to buy more hay and livestock feed. I’ve got no hay left from my first cutting and not enough ground corn in the silo to last the winter. And the price of feed sure hasn’t fallen any. I drew up a budget for our expenses including land taxes for the next six months. We’re going to have enough. Right now, I accepted a delivery of hay on credit, but I must pay for it soon. I’ll not have another family suffer because of my pigheadedness.” He focused on the oak table. “I’m sorry, Hannah. I should’ve listened to you and my bruder. Then we wouldn’t be facing winter with empty silos. Now my family is going to suffer.”

  Hannah pulled his clenched fists toward her. “We are not going to suffer, Seth Miller. We may have tribulation, jah, because the Lord wants us to learn our lessons—either the easy way or the hard way. But we won’t be walking that road alone. He’ll be right there next to us.” The slanted light from the window made her eyes sparkle. “If times are lean, we’ll economize and be more frugal, but I won’t have you punishing yourself because of an error made with good intentions. We’ll get through this. It will strengthen us as Christians and as a family.” She exhaled and relaxed against the chair back. “And we can use the last of my farm sale proceeds to pay for hay.”

  She pulled the bowl of stew over and began to eat. “Whew, Seth. You had me worried at first that something was seriously wrong. Money is just…money. It ebbs and flows like the tides. We’re better off when we don’t worry too much about it.”

  Seth stared at her and then picked up his spoon and also started to eat. The stew smelled wonderful. He was a fortunate man. He’d been blessed with the sweetest woman on earth for a wife.

  Emma sat alone in her loft, spending more time staring out the window than spinning wool into yarn. Snow was falling, blanketing the fields in a cloak of pristine white. Winter was a time of rest and rejuvenation. After the whirlwind of harvest, a farm took a deep breath and restored itself. Farmers also used this time to relax, plan for spring, and contemplate whether the path they were on was the right one.

  Emma wasn’t so sure. She’d gone on the hayride with Joseph and made every effort to be friendly. She laughed at his jokes, listened to his plans for expansion of the harness shop, and drank hot cider around the bonfire under the stars.

  He had asked to take her home.

&nb
sp; She had declined and ridden home with Matthew. At her mamm’s prodding she’d attended the next singing, but she found it far less enjoyable than the first. Elizabeth had kept watching her like a bug under a magnifying glass. And Joseph nearly tripped over himself trying to be helpful.

  Would you care for more cider, Emma?

  Could I bring you some more cookies?

  Are you warm enough? Would you like me to get you a lap robe?

  What she wanted was peace and quiet and found that only here in her cluttered workroom. Daed had installed a small potbellied stove to keep her from freezing to death while contemplating the rest of her life. She wasn’t hiding from her family as much as she was trying to find herself. She still missed James so much. It was his handsome face she saw every night when she closed her eyes and tried to sleep. She would hear his voice on every walk through the forest or while passing near the beaver pond on her way to Aunt Hannah’s. She had prayed for guidance and for the strength to forget him, yet her love hadn’t diminished one bit.

  She pictured herself rocking on the porch as a very old woman, replaying in her mind their canoe trip and train ride. Fate could be so cruel. She wouldn’t leave her faith or shame her family, but she couldn’t seem to forget him, either.

  “Emma? Are you up there?” A voice from below jolted her from the daydream. It was her mamm.

  “Jah, I’m working,” she called, which wasn’t exactly the truth.

  “You have a visitor,” Julia called. “I’m sending her up. Come into the house if you two get cold.”

  “Okay,” she hollered and expected to see Aunt Hannah poke her head at the top of the steps.