by Emma Miller
Lovage rose from the stool. “Ya, Mam. I’ll see to it.”
“And it’s time to get dinner on the table. Past time,” Rosemary fretted. “All those young men out there building my greenhouse. How ungrateful do I look, half past one and no dinner on the table?”
Lovage gently pushed Benjamin in the direction of the stool, indicating he should sit.
“Mam, I don’t think the boys will mind if—”
“It’s all in the icebox on the back porch. Half a ham, macaroni salad, tuna salad, sour cucumbers and watermelon pickles. Oh, and I think there’s some corn salad left from yesterday. There’s honey wheat bread in the bread box that Tara made yesterday. Just a simple meal.”
“I’ll see to it,” Lovage promised.
“Three gallons of iced tea and raspberry lemonade in the icebox, too! And don’t forget the blueberry pies in the pie safe. And the ebbelkuche! Benjamin’s boys like my apple tart.”
Benjamin slid onto the stool and took his wife’s hand in his. “Enough now, fraw. Our Lovey knows how to lay out a dinner.” He gazed down at her, his dark eyes filled with love. “She had the best of teachers, that one.”
Lovage smiled as she backed out of the cool semidarkness of the parlor, leaving the couple to have a moment alone. Her mother was definitely feeling better, she thought as she stepped into the hall. She was giving orders again.
Lovage found Nettie, Tara and Jesse all in the hallway, standing in a cluster, whispering.
“How is she?” Tara asked, clasping her hands together anxiously. Tara was their worrier. She’d been that way since she was a toddler. She worried equally about the things that needed to be worried over and the things that didn’t. Their dat used to say that every family needed a worrier, to take some of the burden of worrying from others.
“She’s not going to the doctor?” Twenty-year-old Nettie rested her hands on her slender hips. She was still wearing her paint apron with streaks of every color of the rainbow on it. “Jacob said his father said he might be getting a driver to take her to the emergency room.”
“Can I go?” Jesse asked. “Can I ride in the Englisher ambulance?”
“There will be no ambulance. Mam’s fine. She’s not going to the hospital.” Lovage opened her arms to shoo her siblings down the hall toward the kitchen, thinking that the best thing she could do for her mother right now was get dinner on the table and then finish up the canning. “She just got overheated.” She looked to her two sisters. “Where’s Ginger and Bay? We need to get dinner on the table for the men working on Mam’s greenhouse.”
“We’ll find them.” Tara grabbed Nettie’s hand and the girls hurried toward the kitchen, seeming thankful to have been given a task.
Lovage rested her hand on her little brother’s shoulder. “Run down to the greenhouse and let the men know that dinner will be served on the back porch in fifteen minutes.”
Jesse bobbed his head. “They’re done working for the day. Marshall said he was going home, but said to tell him if you needed anything, if Mam needed anything, I should go fetch him.”
Lovage smiled at Marshall’s thoughtfulness, and a warmth washed over her as she recalled their stroll across the backyard earlier. He really was her beau!
“Oh, and he said to give you this.” He slipped his hand in his pocket and pulled out a little bird nest. “He said he thought you might like it.” He tilted his hand and slid it onto Lovage’s open palm. “He found it in the grass in his orchard this morning.”
“It’s so tiny,” she said, looking at the nest in her hand, truly touched by his gift. It was so small and perfect. She couldn’t wait to see him again to say thank-you. Maybe she’d even walk over to his house after supper. Take Jesse with her. Pleasure curled in the pit of her stomach as she thought about how happy Marshall would be to see her for a surprise visit. Maybe they’d be able to take a walk together in his orchard. They hadn’t gotten a chance the day of Sam’s birthday. And maybe she’d even let him hold her hand.
A sense of guilt suddenly washed over her. Here her mother was, lying on her back on the couch midday, after a fainting spell. Her forty-five-year-old mother was in the family way and Lovey was thinking of flirting with a boy. Thinking of going to his house with the intention of flirting. It seemed wrong. And selfish.
“He said he knew you would like it.” Jesse started down the hall and then turned back. “Oh, and he said not to forget about supper at his house Friday night. He said he hoped Mam would be feeling well enough to go, that Lynita was expecting us. We’re going, right? Because I told Sam we were. He’s going to show me this thing he’s building so Petunia can pour herself her own grain.” He laughed. “A goat feeder. Imagine that!” Her little brother turned and ran down the hallway.
“No running in the house,” she called after him, wondering if maybe their family having supper with Marshall’s family wasn’t such a good idea. Maybe this wasn’t a good time for the families to be getting to know each other. It wasn’t uncommon for a courting couple’s family to spend time together if they weren’t already friends. It gave everyone a chance to get to know each other, because when a girl and a boy were courting, it was intended as a trial period before marriage. The intention of courting was to move forward to an official betrothal and then a wedding, often falling in quick succession. The Amish weren’t like Englishers. They didn’t date for years. They got to know each other within the confines of the rules of dating and then they made the decision as to whether or not to marry or break up.
Marshall was still asking her to marry him almost every time they were together. But what if this really wasn’t the time for her to be thinking of marrying? Was her mother’s fainting spell an indication that her eldest daughter needed to be here at home? Would it be selfish of her to marry and leave her mother with this huge household and a new baby?
By the time Lovage reached the kitchen, Jesse was gone. As were Tara and Nettie. There was no one else there but Benjamin’s eldest son, Ethan, who would be taking over as the schoolteacher at the Hickory Grove school come September. She found him with a mop, cleaning the floor where the tomatoes had fallen when Rosemary fainted with the basket in her arms.
“Ethan, you don’t have to do that.”
He looked up, mop in his hand. He was a handsome man of thirty-one, tall and slender with yellow-blond hair and dark eyes. He looked like his mother, Alma, rather than his father. “I know I don’t have to, but I needed something to do to feel like I was being useful to Rosemary.” He shrugged. “Tara and Nettie went out to get the other girls to set the table for dinner. I told them I would finish here for them.”
Lovage liked Ethan. She always had. He was soft-spoken, sincere and a man of great compassion. Three years ago, he had married and buried his wife in the same year. His Mary had been stricken with breast cancer and died on her twenty-fifth birthday. When Benjamin and Rosemary made the decision to move to Delaware, Ethan sold his own small farm and came with them, thinking he needed a new start. He didn’t talk about his wife, but Lovage had a feeling he missed her deeply, so deeply that even though his father had encouraged him to start dating again, he hadn’t been able to find his way there yet.
Lovage went to the cupboard and pulled out a stack of plates. “Jesse said Marshall went home?” She dared trying to sound casual.
“Ya, the other guys, too. They thought it best they leave us to ourselves. Let Rosemary rest. She’s going to be okay, right? Tara said she’d be fine. Just got overheated. Not hard to do on a day like this.”
“She’ll be fine.” She took down a second stack of plates. Even without the three men who had come to help with the greenhouse, Marshall, Jeb Fisher and Caleb Gruber, there would still be thirteen for the midday meal. “Probably just as well he went home,” she said. “I have to see to Mam. I don’t have time for Marshall’s—”
“Don’t do that, Lovey.”
; The tone of Ethan’s voice made her turn to him, the stack of ironware plates in her arms. “Do what?”
“Chase him off.”
“I’m not chasing him off,” she said, prickling.
He stood to his full height of six feet, the mop looking small in his large hands. “He’s a good man, Marshall Byler is.”
“I know that.”
“And he’d make a good husband to you, Lovey.”
She felt her cheeks burn and she looked down at her bare feet. “I’m not sure this is a time for me to be courting anyone. Mam needs me. Today is proof of that. I should be here with her, helping her with the girls and...the work. It’s a lot of work to run this house.”
“What happened with Ishmael wasn’t your fault, Lovey.”
“I didn’t say...” She frowned. “Who was talking about Ishmael? Water under the bridge.”
“Don’t let your chance at a good marriage with a good man—who is pretty smitten with you, I have to tell you—go because you’re afraid you’re not good enough for him. Because you are, Lovage. You—” His voice cracked with emotion. “You have to take the happiness you find when you find it, and enjoy every moment. Because you don’t know when it will be gone.”
Lovage pressed her lips together, her heart aching for her stepbrother.
“I miss her so much, Lovey. I miss her every day. And I just thank God that I was smart enough to accept the gift He gave me when He made her my wife. Even if it was for a very short time.”
Lovage exhaled, her eyes tearing up. “I don’t know what to say, Ethan.” She hugged the plates to her. “I don’t know how to ease the pain of your loss.”
“You can’t,” he said simply. “But what you can do is accept God’s gift of Marshall in your life. I’m not saying you should wed him tomorrow, but I think you need to give him a chance. Give yourself a chance.”
Ethan stood there a moment longer in silence and then walked out of the kitchen, leaving Lovage to her thoughts.
* * *
Marshall met Lovage at the back of her family’s wagon. The Stutzman women had arrived in their buggy a few minutes after Benjamin and his sons and Jesse in the open wagon. The men had been given the task of transporting six pies in the back, but Lovage had taken on the task of carrying them safely into the house.
“Here, I can take two,” Marshall said, holding out both hands, trying not to stare at her.
Tonight, she was in purple. Her kapp was neatly in place, hiding every strand of brown hair; her apron was blindingly white, and her canvas sneakers were navy blue and looked to be brand-new. Lovey’s face under the white kapp was so full of life, so beautiful, it made his breath catch in his throat.
“We’re here at last,” she said, sounding a little flustered. “We had to drop Ginger off at her friend Liz’s. Helping babysit while Liz’s parents visit a friend in the hospital. There must have been a mix-up.” She fluttered her hand. “I was sure she knew we were all coming here tonight for supper as a family.”
“That’s too bad Ginger couldn’t make it,” he said, although he was a little relieved. Ginger was a sweet enough kid, but she was making him a little uncomfortable. She seemed to go out of her way to talk to him, while she never came out and said so. What Amish girl would? He got the impression that she was hoping he would ask her out. Which made no sense to him because she knew he was walking out with her sister. Maybe it wasn’t official—Lovey was just being stubborn about that. But everyone in Hickory Grove knew Lovey was his girl. She was his girl and he only had eyes for her.
“What have you got there?” He peered into the wooden boxes that had been built to carry casseroles and other various types of food. He had one himself that he and Sam had built, only they had added a slot between the chambers for hot bricks or bags of ice, depending on the type of dishes being carried to a friend or neighbor’s home.
“Let’s see...” She glanced at a pie that must have had three inches of meringue whipped into peaks and toasted perfectly. “Two lemon meringue...”
He groaned, gazing at the enormous pie in his hands. “I love lemon meringue pie.”
“Two blueberry,” she said pointing into the wooden box. “And two apple custard.”
“All my favorite,” he told her. “I think I’d better skip supper so I can just have pie. Which did you make?” he asked, as she handed him one of the blueberry pies, which was made with a shiny lattice top crust.
“All of them.” She picked up the other blueberry pie. “I don’t know where everyone’s gotten to. I’ll have to come back for these.”
“You’ll do no such thing,” he said, making no effort to start for the house, because the moment they got in there, he knew they wouldn’t have a minute to talk alone the remainder of the evening. They were standing face-to-face behind the wagon, only the two pies they were holding separating them. He gazed into her twinkling green eyes. “I’m really glad you and your family came tonight. You especially. I’ve missed you.”
“Since yesterday?” she teased. Then she hesitated, as if she wanted to say something. She bit down on her lower lip. “Marshall...”
“Ya,” he said quietly, the sound of her soft voice seeming louder in his ears than Jesse’s and Sam’s laughter coming from the barn, and the sound of Ethan and Will talking with their father on the steps of the back porch.
“The other day when you came to work on the greenhouse. The day Mam fainted...we were joking about me being your girl and you—”
The sound of a horse and wagon coming into the barnyard made them both turn to see who it was. To Marshall’s surprise he spotted Ephraim and Lois King rolling toward him, their daughter on the seat between them.
“Sorry we’re late. Hope you didn’t hold supper,” Ephraim said, as he reined in his black Thoroughbred he’d bought at an auction close to twenty years ago. “Trying to get a wife and a daughter ready to go...” He shook his head, rolling his eyes as if Marshall knew exactly what he meant.
“Faith made two lemon meringue pies,” Lois declared, barely waiting for the wagon to roll to a stop before she was over the side.
The two of them were quite a pair, with Lois near six foot tall and skinny as a beanpole and Ephraim short and wide.
“Get your pies,” Lois directed her daughter, pointing at her. Her voice seemed as sharp and bony as her finger. “Lynita said they were your favorite, Marshall, and to be sure to bring two.”
Lois beamed at Marshall as if she might pounce on him. It was pretty obvious that his grandmother hadn’t taken his hint the day of Sam’s birthday. She still had it in her mind that he and Faith were going to walk out together. If she had her way, they’d be married by Thanksgiving. And from the look on Lois’s face, he had a feeling she was of the same mind.
Marshall shifted his gaze to Lovey. She was as surprised as he was to see the Kings. And she looked uncertain, as if she still didn’t quite believe he would choose her over sweet, cute little Faith. He wanted to apologize, to say he had no idea his grandmother had invited the Kings, but there was no way to say it without them hearing him. And while he would have preferred to spend the evening alone with the Miller family, getting to know them better, anyone was welcome to his table.
Lovage set her pies down and took the lemon meringue from him. “So good to see you all,” she said, deftly sliding her lemon meringue pies back into the pie box in the back of her family’s wagon as she greeted the Kings. “We’ve just arrived.” She turned back to them with a big smile, handing Marshall a second blueberry pie. “So you’re not late at all.”
Chapter Nine
“I brought two of my rosemary roasted chickens,” Lois chattered on. “Faith did most of the work, of course. She’s an excellent cook, that one.” She handed her daughter, who was already holding a lemon meringue pie in one hand, an enormous picnic basket with a solid wooden lid.
Even from acros
s the driveway, Marshall could smell the chicken, which must have just come out of the oven.
“And macaroni and cheese,” Lois went on. “Lynita said you love a good macaroni and cheese casserole. Faith...” She gave her daughter a nudge. “Show Marshall your pie. She makes an excellent merengue. Mile-high peaks. Better than mine, I should say.”
“I didn’t know they were coming,” Marshall mouthed to Lovey.
Lovey pressed her lips together, looking away from him.
“We’ll talk later,” he whispered. “Ya?”
Her smile seemed forced when she made eye contact with him. “Ya,” she said, and then she started for the house, the apple custard pies in her hands. “Jesse!” she called to her little brother. “You and Sam see to Peaches.” She indicated their white mare hitched to the wagon. “Give her a nibble of grain. There’s a nose bag in the back.”
“We’ve got grain,” Marshall told her.
She didn’t respond. She just kept walking, hips swaying in the lavender dress. Marshall was so mesmerized by her tall, slender form that all he could do was stand there gaping at her, the pies she had passed to him still in each hand.
“I know Lynita made a ham, but the Millers have such a big family. So many boys, I knew the chicken would be welcome.” Lois was still talking as she loaded up her husband’s arms with food, as well. “And grape conserve and...”
Lois was like a fly buzzing in Marshall’s ear—annoying, yet harmless. “I’m sorry, what did you say, Lois?”
“I said, you like grape conserve, don’t you? Who doesn’t love a hearty grape conserve, that’s what I always say, don’t I, Ephraim?”
“Ya,” Marshall mumbled. “I like it well enough. Let me run these inside, and I’ll be back out to help you carry everything else in.”
“No need,” Lois clucked. “We can carry it in. Faith’s small, but she’s strong. Got good arms on her, that one.”
“There you are, Lois!” Lynita called from the screened-in back porch, waving to her neighbor. She must have just passed Lovey.