Summer of Secrets

by Charlotte Hubbard

  Naomi set down her mixing spoon to wrap her arms around Miriam. “Ya look happier than I’ve ever seen ya, dearie. And for that, I’m mighty thankful, too!”

  “Now promise us ya won’t be on your feet bakin’ all evenin’,” Rhoda insisted as they hung the damp towels from the morning’s dishes. “Hate thinkin’ Rachel and I’ll be eatin’ a gut dinner and then enjoyin’ our friends while you’re here workin’, Mamma.”

  Miriam smiled over the piecrust she was rolling out. “Won’t be bakin’ all that long, really, on account of how you girls kept the food movin’ today so’s I could fill all the special orders. Denki for that! Go have a gut time with your cousins and friends!”

  A few minutes later the two girls were out the back door, striding down the lane to the house. “Gut to see those two chatterboxes so happy,” Naomi remarked as she entered the pantry. “Thought they’d never leave, though!”

  “Jah, they have a way of frettin’ over how I’ll spend my time without them!” Miriam fetched eggs from the refrigerator along with the defrosting strawberries she’d hidden. She set out the canola oil and then took three big sheet-cake pans from the shelf. “Denki for startin’ these birthday cakes, Naomi. Meanwhile, I’m gonna cut out their new dresses so’s I can sneak the pieces home to sew while I’m by myself.”

  The longer tables in the dining room were perfect for laying out the fabric, which she’d hidden away in the pantry. Miriam grinned as she slipped her sewing scissors and pins from a package she’d tucked behind big bags of flour. By the time Naomi put the cakes in, she’d nearly finished cutting cape dresses and aprons from the blue twill.

  “I’ll be headin’ home to Ezra now,” her cook called out. “I set the timer so’s ya won’t forget the cakes. Say—that color’s right perty! Rachel and Rhoda’ll like it—but they don’t dress the same, ain’t so?”

  “Got this orchid, too,” Miriam said as she nodded toward the other fabric. “A nice color for near summer’s end, I thought.”

  “Jah, I like that one even better! See ya tomorrow mornin’.”

  “Same time, same place,” Miriam quipped. Then she grinned, listening for the closing of the back door. It was rare to keep a secret from her best friend, but Naomi didn’t realize she was cutting three new dresses from each color! As she smoothed the deep orchid twill along the length of a table, her pulse thrummed ... she recalled kettle cloth in a pretty shade of clay on Mary’s shelves, as well as a dark fawn that had caught her eye. Could be, if all went well at the party, she’d be sewing up a few more dresses ...

  When the timer buzzed, Miriam took the four big sheet cakes from the ovens. She inhaled their heavenly strawberry fragrance. The edges were just pulling away from the pans and the tops were a rich, golden overlay on the pink cakes. By the time she finished pinning the pattern pieces, the cakes would be cooled enough to hide away—

  “Say, gal, smells a lot better in here than where I’ve been workin’!”

  Miriam glanced up to see a male form highlighted in the back door. “Tom, I believe you’re right!” she teased the dairy farmer. “These’re for the girls’ party next week. I sure hope you’ll come!”

  “Why would I miss a party?” His smile looked downright shy as he held up two gallon-size ice-cream pails. “Was thinkin’ ya might want some fresh cream to make your ice cream, so I brought it on over. And if you’d like a hand at crankin’ that freezer—”

  “And why would I turn down help like that?” she teased. “Told Naomi we’ll be invitin’ anybody who wants to come, so we’ll be makin’ up several batches. Denki for thinkin’ of us, Tom.”

  Why was he here, really? Miriam took the cream to the refrigerator, sensing this man had more than homemade ice cream on his mind ... and that he hadn’t come here in his role as a preacher, either. “Your boys doin’ all right these days? Don’t see much of Pete nor Rudy now that they’re makin’ carriages—and I’m thinkin’ Lavinia and Sarah must be doin’ well with their families, too?”

  “Jah, my girls’re puttin’ up the corn and green beans—got big gardens, ya know—and helpin’ their men with the hayin’ and chorin’,” he replied quietly. “Sundays they bring over dinner and enough for me to eat on awhile, and they change out the clothes they’ve washed for what I’ve dirtied. Perty quick to notice I’m not one for keepin’ a real tidy house, but, well—” He shrugged ruefully. “Never figured on havin’ to do that. Got a letter from Lettie’s lawyer this mornin’ ... tellin’ me about divorce proceedin’s.”

  The poor man looked like he’d lost his last friend along with his wife. His shoulders sagged and his sigh stumbled over a lump in his throat. Divorce was unheard-of among the Amish: she didn’t know of a single couple who’d cut their ties. It meant, for sure and for certain, that Lettie would be excommunicated, while Tom would be unable to remarry until she passed on. And who knew when that might be?

  Miriam put her hands on his shoulders, keeping a proper distance between them. “That’s gotta be awful hard, Tom, and I’m sorry this has gone so wrong for ya,” she murmured. “If there’s somethin’ I can do—or if the girls can come by and redd up for ya, or—”

  “Nah, didn’t come to cry on your shoulder, Miriam, but denki for the kind thoughts.” He stepped away self-consciously. “Just saw you were workin’ a little longer today, and ... well, I wanted ya to know I put in an offer on your buildin’. No sense in a gut cook and shopkeeper like yourself worryin’ about who’s gonna keep ya—I mean—”

  What did he mean? Miriam’s pulse skittered while the man before her composed himself. Bless him, Tom looked a little the worse for wear in trousers and a blue shirt that could use a pressing, but his pink cheeks told her he’d gone beyond what he’d intended to say.

  “Probably best if ya don’t mention it to the bishop,” he continued in a low voice, “and I don’t want ya thinkin’ I’ve got ideas about takin’ care of your business or—I mean, what man in his right mind wouldn’t want to look after you, Miriam? But I—” He stopped to shake his head in exasperation. “Mostly I’m makin’ a mess of this. But if I have anythin’ to say about it, ya won’t be tossed outta your café. With all due respect to Hiram and the will of the Lord, I just didn’t like it when he told me he was buyin’ the buildin’, sayin’ it was for your own gut!”

  Closing her eyes, Miriam thought fast. Tom was baring his soul—his intentions, perhaps, for the day when he was free to look for another wife—even though Lettie was a healthy sort who’d live a long while yet. The fact that Tom was an elder among them made this situation sting even more. But knowing what she knew ...

  “Can’t thank ya enough for doin’ that, Tom,” she murmured. “And in the same spirit of respectin’ the bishop’s intentions, I’m gonna tell ya a third fella’s made an offer, too. So now you and I have our own secret, on account of how Hiram’s amount has been topped twice.”

  Tom’s eyes widened. “Who else would—?”

  “Don’t know the particulars, except he’s not Amish. And the banker seems mighty happy about the whole thing—which tells me the mystery man intends to keep my bakin’ business here, too.”

  “Ah. Well, then ...”

  Miriam smiled. The relief around his eyes and forehead was a sign she’d done the right thing, telling him. “That was a fine favor ya did for me, Tom. Just didn’t want ya left hangin’ when so much money’s involved, and you’ve got your herd to manage and barns to maintain and whatnot.” She squeezed the sturdy hand that still held hers. “I feel real gut havin’ ya for a friend, Tom. And I’ll say it again: if there’s anythin’ I can do for ya, you let me know.”

  “I’ll do that, Miriam. Appreciate ya tellin’ me straight-out about this. You’re a gut woman and a fine friend.” With a grin, he bussed her cheek. “Better be gettin’ on home before I stumble over my tongue any more today.”

  “Appreciate that cream, and”—she snatched a carryout box from the stack on the counter and then cut a big square of bread pudding to go in it
—“I’ll be here Saturday evenin’ while the girls are at a quiltin’ frolic, so if you’d like to crank the ice-cream freezer—”

  “Count on it! Bless ya, Miriam, this bread puddin’ll be a real treat.” He smiled as he pushed on the door. “Ya turned around a day that’s laid me mighty low. It’s another of your gifts, doin’ that for everybody.”

  And wasn’t that a fine compliment? As Miriam covered the cake pans with foil to freeze them and then carefully folded the dress pieces she’d pinned, her heart sighed with contentment. As she was leaving, Micah pulled up with several cans of paint and a roll of vinyl flooring in the back of his wagon.

  “Thinkin’ I’ll be finished upstairs in a couple more evenin’s,” he remarked with a sly smile. “Appreciate your havin’ that banker fella take a look, too. He’s hired us to refurbish some apartments usin’ my new wall systems, so we’ll be gettin’ right on that project. Gut money—and more jobs to come, I’m guessin’.”

  “Can’t wait to see it, Micah.” Miriam grinned and glanced at the materials in his wagon ... soothing natural shades of blue and green and pale yellow. “Sounds like we’re all gonna be busy and happy. I’m likin’ that!”

  “Jah. Gonna be real gut for all of us. You have a fine evenin’ now, Miriam.”

  She knew a dismissal when she heard one. It was a fine thing to know this young man was as eager and enthusiastic about his work—and his shop’s future—as she was.

  As Miriam started up the lane, sewing supplies tucked into her large canvas tote, she beamed back at the sun, just now setting behind the rows of sweet corn at the back of her garden. She spotted three fat striped watermelons and several acorn squash among the fan-shaped leaves near the smithy where her Jesse used to work at his forge. Maybe ... just maybe another farrier would want to ply his trade there someday ...

  Thank ya, Lord, for more blessin’s than I can count—more than my heart can hold. It’s gonna be a wonderful-gut birthday for my girls ... and I thank ya for that, too.

  Chapter 27

  Saturday the fifteenth of August dawned bright and breezy, with a brisk breakfast business at the Sweet Seasons. Rachel smiled at the familiar scene: while Mamma decorated two sheet cakes for a wedding in Morning Star, Naomi turned bacon on the griddle and Rhoda plated orders for the day’s breakfast casserole special. Big signs on the outside of the café announced that they’d be closed, come ten o’clock, and that the birthday party began at two.

  “Guess we’ll be seein’ ya later for cake,” Nate Kanagy remarked as Rachel set his plate of pancakes in front of him.

  “Jah, and ice cream, too! Four flavors!”

  “And you’ve gotta go next door to see what Micah’s been doin’ in his spare time,” her sister remarked as she placed heaping plates of smothered hash browns in front of Bram and the three Brenneman boys. Rhoda tweaked Micah’s nose and then giggled when he blushed. “Not like any other place you’ve ever seen. Or so they tell me.”

  “Gonna make everybody ooh and aah,” Rachel confirmed. She couldn’t wait to see Mamma’s and Rhoda’s faces when they viewed their new rooms in a couple of hours. Yesterday she’d made up the Murphy beds with new sheets and quilts from her own cedar chest so the apartment would look homey and complete—ready for whenever the two of them wanted to stay there. Again she grinned, because this event marked one more milestone on the way to her own days as Micah’s bride, starting out in the home they would soon repaint and freshen for their new life together.

  The bell above the door jangled, and she went to the front counter to welcome a young woman alone. Rachel paused and then grinned. “Tiffany? I—well, I hardly knew ya! Happy birthday, Sister!”

  Tiffany grinned shyly. Her blue eyes sparkled in a face that looked sweet and natural, like the one Rachel saw in her own little mirror each morning. “Happy birthday back atcha!” she replied. “Felt a little funny, leaving the house this way—”

  “But don’t ya look perty!” Rhoda crowed as she rushed over. “Come to the kitchen! Mamma’ll be real glad to see ya! So how’s it feelin’ to be twenty-one?”

  The young woman between them chuckled. “Perty gut,” she replied with an exaggerated accent. “I—I won’t look and sound like you, but it’s awesome to be celebrating my real birthday for the first time, with sisters I didn’t know I had until now.”

  “Well, now, would ya looky here, Miriam!” Naomi called out. She set her pan of hash browns on the granite countertop. “Ya just gave your mamma the best present of all, I’m thinkin’. Gut to have ya here for the big day, Tiffany.”

  “Jah, I should say so!” Mamma laid down her pastry tube to wipe her sugary hands on her apron. “And would ya look at this girl, so fresh and perty today! Happy birthday, honey-bug. It’s so gut to have ya home with us!”

  Rachel swallowed hard. Except for the low purr of the exhaust fan, the kitchen went quiet. Their mother had wrapped her arms around Tiffany and then her shining brown eyes beckoned for her and Rhoda to join in ... an expanded version of the hug the three of them had shared ever since Dat had passed. Mamma looked so happy, why—the strings of her kapp quivered with her excitement as she gazed at Tiffany’s pale blue top and white jeans ... at the short brown hair now combed back from her face in soft, feathery layers.

  “Um, Dad’ll be along later for the party,” she said in a hesitant voice. “He—he’s really excited about coming—to meet Rachel and Rhoda, and to ...”

  What wasn’t she saying? Rachel joined in the final squeeze they all shared before they separated, curious yet excited as she hadn’t been for a long time. “Gonna be a real special day, Tiffany, with the both of ya here—”

  “Can I—can I dress like you? Just for the day, I mean?” she blurted. “I don’t think I could ever live Plain, but—if you won’t take it the wrong way—I thought it might be fun for us all to look like sisters.”

  “Oh, that’s the best idea!” Mamma replied with a clap of her hands. “So I’ll tell ya your surprise now! For your birthday, girls, I sewed up new dresses, and it just so happens there’s three alike! And nice new kapps to go with them. What do ya think of that?”

  “Won’t that be a sight!” Naomi hurried over to sling an arm around Mamma’s shoulders. “The Lantz triplets, all together again. Can’t wait to see it myself.”

  The rest of the morning flew by: Naomi fixed a plate so Tiffany could eat in the kitchen, watching while Mamma finished decorating her cakes. Rachel bused tables and invited all the locals to come back later, while Rhoda ran the check-out and welcomed incoming customers. Even when Hiram sat down with Tom Hostetler, Gabe Glick, and Reuben Reihl, Rachel felt bubbly with energy. What a party it would be, with she and her two sisters dressed alike for the first time since—well, since that day they’d worn those little pink dresses Mamma had tucked away in the trunk. And wouldn’t that give folks something to talk about?

  “Gut mornin’, Bishop. And what’ll ya have today?” she asked cheerily.

  Not even Hiram’s speculative gaze dampened her mood. He stroked his beard, long and dark with spangles of gray like tinsel. “Bring me the special with a side of ham. My friends here’ll have the same—and bring me the check. With a pot of fresh coffee.”

  “Jah, I can do that. Back in a few.” As Rachel strode toward the coffeemaker she noted the surprised looks on the other three men’s faces, as though they, too, wondered what the occasion was. Two or three of them ate with Hiram probably four mornings each week, but the bishop usually nodded cordially when one of the other elders offered to buy his meal.

  “Ready for the big party?” Tom asked as she poured their first cups of coffee. “Nearly wore out my crankin’ arm the past few afternoons, makin’ all four kinds of ice cream your mamma wanted.”

  “Jah, and we hope you fellas’ll join us for some, too. We’re mighty pleased that Tiffany, our sister, has come early,” she replied. “Gonna be a big day.”

  “No doubt,” Hiram replied with a nod.

  “Wouldn’t
miss it,” Tom agreed. He looked perkier than he had for days, smiling quietly over his first sip of coffee.

  And what was all this mysterious talk? As though each man had his own ... secret. Rachel smiled to herself. No matter what happened today, she sensed it would mark a point in time they’d not soon forget. She glanced at the clock, eager for the hands to circle it: nearly nine. Almost time for the breakfast shift to end so the celebration could begin!

  “Tiffany, look at ya! Why, except for the shorter hair in front, ya could pass for one of us!” Rhoda offered her the hand mirror as they finished dressing in her room. What a treat, to giggle like schoolgirls and outfit their sister in a crisp new cape dress and apron exactly like their own: its V-shaped cape of matching blue fit at her shoulders and tucked down into the belt of her white apron, front and back, to display a figure that was identical to theirs, as well.

  “She is one of us,” Rachel chirped. “And this shade of dusty blue’s the pertiest I’ve ever seen—and it’ll dry on a hanger without needin’ ironin’! Quite a nice surprise Mamma’s pulled on us. What I can’t figure is when she had the time to sew them!”

  Rhoda’s heart swelled. The way their newfound sister held the mirror this way and that, to see how her kapp looked ... how her dress and matching apron draped around her body, well—it was a treat to watch Tiffany seeming so pleased about it all. She was going to college, specializing in computers and other newfangled technology Plain folk knew little about, yet her eyes had a real shine to them.

  “Ya look like a whole new you,” Rhoda murmured. “And don’t be takin’ that all wrong—”

  “I know I was a huge shock to you when I showed up in my Goth makeup and clothes,” she replied. “I—I didn’t come that first day to insult you or make fun of you, but I was pretty, um ... what’s that word that means confused, like your world’s gone wonky?”