An Amish Family Reunion Page 12

  TWELVE

  Awatched clock doesn’t move, according to grossmammi. And the same could be said of a calendar under close scrutiny, according to Phoebe. When Eli selected Wednesday for their meeting at the library, she knew she would have difficulty getting through Monday and Tuesday. What was the matter with her? It was a struggle just to keep from grinning foolishly every waking moment. Never before had working on a project appealed so much. But the thought of creating illustrations for Eli’s delightful children’s story was the most exciting opportunity of her life—even better than visiting Niagara Falls, and that was saying a lot.

  On Monday she helped her mother with laundry and ironing from sunup until time to cook supper. Then she peeled potatoes, snapped green beans, and fried a dozen pork chops without rolling her eyes once. After supper, when her little brother asked her to play a game of Parcheesi, she agreed despite the fact she could barely keep her lids open. On Tuesday she weeded and hoed the garden and then picked slugs from the cabbages, brussels sprouts, and cauliflower by hand. Under a merciless sun she tossed the slimy critters into a bucket of sudsy water without sneaking to the shade the moment Hannah was out of sight. Even though her dress stuck to her back and her legs itched from brushing against nettles, Phoebe didn’t complain once about her chores. She would give her mamm no reason not to let her go to town Wednesday afternoon.

  When the anticipated day finally arrived, she expected to awaken with a case of chicken pox or a head cold or some mysterious ailment that caused a person’s hair to fall out. But she felt perfectly fine as she picked a bushel of strawberries to make into jam later in the week, and there had been a normal number of lost hairs in her brush. Hannah answered her request to visit the library with an immediate, “I don’t see why not.” She explained that she wanted to study books to see how realistically scenes were depicted. That was the honest truth. She just didn’t mention she would be consulting those illustrations with someone else.

  As Phoebe drove the open buggy into Winesburg, the weather promised an absolutely perfect June day—sunny, breezy, and warm. She spotted Eli’s blond head the moment she entered the building. The Winesburg Library had no area that could be called private, but Eli sat as far from the librarian’s desk as possible. He glanced up from under his sheaf of hair. It looked as though someone might have trimmed his hair, but if so they had cut off the barest minimum.

  “Hi, Phoebe,” he called out. “Right on time!” Smiles didn’t get any friendlier than Eli Riehl’s from behind his stack of children’s books. “I found you examples of different types of illustrations.”

  “Guder nachmittag,” she greeted in more formal Deutsch. “I hope you haven’t been waiting long.” She slipped into the opposite chair at the polished wood table. “How did you manage an afternoon away from the farm this busy time of year?”

  “Not long at all. I only beat you by ten minutes.” He took a quick assessment of the other patrons. “Wednesdays, after morning chores, are my time off for good behavior. You know, sort of like releasing a prison inmate to pick up litter along the highway one day a week.” His left dimple deepened.

  “You’re no prisoner, Eli,” she chastised. “You’re a farmer with chores, that’s all.”

  “Jah, I know. Rose told me that someday I would appreciate having the farm to care for—one day soon.” Oddly, he winked at her. “I don’t mind milking cows or feeding livestock. It’s the aftermath of all that alfalfa and spelt that gets tiresome.”

  Phoebe blushed for no reason she could think of, but sitting so close to him without Mrs. Stoltzfus hovering nearby made her nervous. “How do you usually spend your Wednesday afternoons?”

  He bent his head close to hers. “I usually meet my friends at the Mount Hope auction. We watch the bidding on horses, mainly to see how high the price goes when Englischers jump into the action. Sometimes my friends buy new milk cows or dairy goats; other times we just hang out, but we always end up having pie in the basement cafeteria.”

  “My cousin makes the pies they sell there,” she interjected. “Leah’s a great baker.”

  “Rose told me about your cousin.” Eli leaned back in his chair. “I’ll be interested to match a face to her delicious banana cream. Is Leah anywhere near as pretty as you, Miss Miller?”

  Phoebe froze with her fingers midway to the stack of books. After a quick glance around the room, she hissed, “You really shouldn’t say things like that. Someone could hear you.”

  “It’s the truth, Phoebe. Anyway, nobody’s here to overhear us.”

  She narrowed her gaze at him. “What about the librarian? You’re not exactly a quiet person.”

  The middle-aged English woman with a thick head of silver hair glanced up and smiled.

  He ran a hand through his enviable hair. “If she heard me, she’s probably thinking, ‘What a beautiful little Amish gal, that one is! Why, I just want to reach out and pinch one of those dimpled cheeks.’” Eli’s voice had changed to an exaggerated whisper yet remained as audible as before.

  Phoebe covered her face with her hands to hide her blush and her laughter. “You’re incorrigible, Eli Riehl. You love getting a girl’s goat.”

  “Not any girl. Just you, Miss Miller.” He opened the first book from the stack. “But enough flirting for one day; we have work to do. Take a look at these pictures.” Turning the book around, he pushed it under her nose. “These are very sketchy and cartoonish. Undefined and rather whimsical. Well executed, but not what I had in mind for our book.”

  She studied the two pages and nodded, not caring for the particular style either. “I see what you mean.”

  Eli closed the book, tossed it aside, and opened a second. “In this one the artist created more fully-defined characters but used colors too bold and striking. The illustrations aren’t any more realistic than the cartoonish ones.” He shook his bangs back from his face. “Seriously, have you ever seen an orange moon or trees that shade of green? This book might give little ones nightmares.”

  Phoebe pulled the book closer to peruse. The colors jumped from the paper. Turning the page, she said, “Look at this—purple goats and pink horses.”

  “Not in my barnyard, there won’t be!” Eli snapped the book shut. “That book must be for New York City kids who have never seen real farm animals.”

  Phoebe leaned forward with a slow smile. Never before had she felt like this—that her opinion counted on a subject that mattered deeply to her. “Then it’s up to us, Eli, to create a book those city kinner can learn from. We’ll show them the soft yellow of duck down, the tender green of new leaves, and the rich brown of a mare’s shiny coat.”

  “Exactly. Now take a look at this one.” He opened a picture book about a tiger family living in a dense tropical forest.

  The pictures realistically portrayed the action of the story; at least she thought so, based on her limited knowledge of tigers and jungles. “I like these. I can draw in this style, but my assortment of artist chalk might not supply enough color.”

  “Start with detailed sketches of each scene. We’ll worry about coloration at some point down the road.”

  Phoebe inhaled a deep, revitalizing breath. “All right. Tell me again the beginning of your story. I’ll come up with three or four preliminary illustrations before the next time we meet.” She uttered the words without considering whether or not there would be a next time.

  “Perfect,” he agreed, not breaking stride. “Shall we plan to meet back here in one week?” Eli cocked his head to the side. “I believe the Mount Hope auction cafeteria can survive another week without my patronage.”

  Phoebe swallowed down the lump of expectation and excitement that had risen in her throat. “Of course. I have no plans for next Wednesday.” Or any other Wednesday for the rest of the summer.

  He handed her a spiral notebook and pen. “Prepare to take notes, sweet peach. You’re about to hear the future Newberry Award-winning story, round number two.” Eli settled back and began his tale o
f the obnoxious cow again.

  Phoebe took down his words and his suggestions as fast as she could. She might not know anything about Newberry Awards, but she knew she loved children’s stories…and working with Eli. While he talked, she jotted ideas for simple sketches. He praised and encouraged her. Thus far her hobby had only generated mild interest and passive indulgence from onlookers, much like one of her mom’s three-day diets.

  When they were leaving the library, Eli grinned and nodded at the librarian. “Good day to you.”

  She smiled sweetly at him and then leaned across the counter to speak to Phoebe. “You are a beautiful young woman, but I would never dream of pinching a complete stranger’s cheek.” She offered an impish wink.

  “Thank you, ma’am,” murmured Phoebe, blushing to her hairline.

  Eli erupted with laughter, which continued until they reached their horses.

  “Like I said before, you are incorrigible!” Phoebe tugged the reins loose from the hitching post.

  He bowed gallantly. “I promise to improve my atrocious manners by next week.” He offered his hand as she stepped into her buggy. Before releasing her, he bent low and kissed the back of her fingers. “Go straight home, Miss Miller; do not tarry. I cannot bear the thought of another man sweeping you off your feet along the way.”

  She drew back her hand. “Do you talk this way at home? Like you’re a character in some old-fashioned novel?”

  “Jah, but only until my sisters start throwing things at me. Then I stop.”

  “I must remember that next week.” Grinning, she released the brake.

  “Don’t forget your notes.” Eli handed her the tablet.

  “Danki.” She tucked it safely into her tote bag. “I have plenty to do between now and Wednesday. Let’s hope chores won’t prove too… onerous for either of us,” she said, choosing a word that he would like.

  “Chores will only make time pass more quickly.” He held his straw hat over his heart.

  “Goodbye, Eli.” Phoebe shook the reins over the mare’s back and clucked her tongue. Once the horse pulled onto the road, she refused to look back, especially since she couldn’t stop grinning. Instead of throwing things at him, I would like to listen to him all day.

  For half the distance home she replayed each of their verbal exchanges in her mind. But soon a troubling notion crept in to spoil her mood. Was she giddy about creating a storybook for children to read and enjoy? Or was it the handsome, charismatic Eli Riehl that sent her over the moon? Because she had better stop herself right now if it was the latter. Vague yet still painful memories of her mother returned, along with the paralyzing fear of being left behind. Constance hadn’t meant to die young in an accident, and yet Phoebe had been emotionally crippled by the loss. She’d responded by slipping into muteness, a reaction only her tenderhearted stepmother, Hannah, had been able to free her from.

  She’d better think twice about growing too fond of Eli Riehl. With his abundant, carefree charm, he could be here today and gone tomorrow. He might soon tire of a shy woman who uttered such profound maxims as “You love getting a girl’s goat.” As much as she wanted to create a book that would last beyond her lifetime, she would tread carefully with her storytelling partner.

  Hancock

  The crowd that turned out to see the Bylers off at the bus station was even larger than the one that had gathered on the day they arrived. Jonah was a very popular man; his wife, not so much. Although she’d met two wives who had welcomed her warmly into their community, Leah couldn’t get beyond her unchristian jealousy. It wasn’t as though she didn’t trust Jonah with his former flame. It was simply that the people she met in Hancock made her feel like a lone mallard duck trailing after a gaggle of Canada geese—welcome to tag along but never part of the inner circle. Leah longed for her own home and kitchen instead of being a guest of Aunt Harriet. She missed seeing her parents and Henry at preaching services, and she even missed mamm’s well-intended advice. She missed baking pies for the restaurants and shops of Holmes County. And most of all, she missed Jonah, with his soft words and tender touch as they lay together waiting for sleep to come. Lately she’d been following him from barn to bean field as he talked with his uncle after chores were done. She was lonely for her beloved husband. She longed to spend a full day with him.

  And that day had finally come. Joanna Byler stood among the waving crowd as Leah and Jonah boarded their bus for Ohio. She would remain behind with her sister for a longer visit. Leah didn’t know what that boded for her farm and cheese business back home, but with Jonah’s arm snug around her shoulders, she would save that concern for another day.

  With pretty scenery for viewing and her self-help book for reading, Leah should have been able to relax and enjoy their first hours alone together. But once again, the rocking and swaying of the vehicle conspired to turn her gills green. Despite a full belly and ginger ale to sip, she could do nothing more than concentrate on keeping her breakfast down. A second dose of Dramamine knocked her out, and from that point until they reached Holmes County, Leah only woke up three times. She moved like a sleepwalker through the travel plazas, hanging onto Jonah and eating only a tiny portion of her meals.

  “If you’re not back on your feed by tomorrow, I’m calling the vet… er, the doctor.”

  “What?” she squeaked, jarring awake. “You’re calling a vet? What on earth for?”

  Jonah chuckled, hooking his thumb toward the window. “No reason, my sweet, but you should check out where we are.”

  Leah peered out the window to regain her bearings, immediately recognizing the Greyhound stop by the grocery store. “Apple Creek! We’re almost home. Thank goodness.”

  “I would think you would be starving. You haven’t eaten anything in twelve hours. Let me help you down and then come back for our bags.” Jonah assisted her off the bus and over to a bench.

  “I’m glad to be on solid ground. I’ve never felt so sick to my stomach in all my life.” She leaned her head back and closed her eyes.

  “Wait here for me. Lily Davis should be here soon to drive us home. I called her from the last rest area and estimated our arrival time.”

  Leah’s eyes blinked open. “Emma’s sister-in-law is coming for us?”

  “Jah. It’ll be safer than anyone’s buggy in the middle of the night.”

  Leah wasn’t close to James Davis’ sister. Nevertheless, she could have kissed the tall English woman when she pulled up to the curb ten minutes later. And then, almost before Leah knew it, Lily was pulling to a stop in front of their home.

  Their farm had never looked so good. The hired employees had mowed the lawn around the house and watered her plants. Everything else could wait until morning. While Jonah checked on his heifers and baby calves, Leah ate four slices of buttered toast and drank two cups of tea. In the kitchen that had been Esther Burkholder’s and then Joanna Byler’s, she sat alone, relishing the thought that the kitchen was fully hers, at least for the next couple of weeks. Wisconsin was a fine place for those whose hearts were there, but her heart was here in Ohio. The million-dollar question was: Where was Jonah’s heart?

  When he sat down for breakfast the next morning, her husband seemed like his old self.

  “Everything sorted out in the dairy barns?”

  “Right as rain.” He kissed Leah’s cheek before settling down with his own mug. “All milk pickups were on schedule, plus we have plenty of sharp and mild cheddar ready for delivery. Mom will be pleased when she returns.”

  “How long will she stay at Harriet’s?” she asked, placing a plate of fried eggs and bacon in front of him.

  “Who knows? She was downright evasive when I asked her. She and her sister have big plans for the week. They are taking the boys to the Dells for a couple days. My mom, a tourist—can you believe it? She plans to send us a postcard.” Jonah shook his head. “She sure is glad to be back home.”

  Leah inwardly cringed, hearing him refer to Wisconsin that way. “I understand th
e winters are harsher there, much snowier and colder. She wouldn’t like that with her thin blood. She sleeps with socks on almost year-round.”

  Jonah devoured his food. “Maybe a bit colder, but I don’t recall Wisconsin being much snowier.”

  “According to the almanac—” she began, but the sound of a car door slamming outside the window curtailed her argument.

  He downed his coffee and refilled his mug. “I’ll see who that is. Thanks for the vittles, fraa. Yours put Aunt Harriet’s to shame. Now you’d better start baking. The world cannot survive without your pies for another day.” He nuzzled her kapp with another kiss and strode out the door, mug in hand.

  Fuming, Leah watched Jonah approach a well-dressed Englischer. The woman wore a fire-engine-red suit, red high heels, and a black wide-brimmed hat with a fake red flower attached. Her outfit gave the word “fancy” new meaning. What could she want with the Bylers? Most people who stopped to buy cheese wore sneakers and jeans. Leah watched until the two disappeared into the cavernous milking parlor. You’d better watch where you step with those expensive shoes, she thought, scraping her breakfast into the compost bucket. Unlike her husband, her appetite had remained behind in Hancock.

  Thirty minutes later, elbow deep in baking, Leah heard a car engine roar to life and then the crunch of driveway gravel. Jonah resolved her quandary when he dashed into the house. “Leah!” he shouted. “Do you know who that woman was?” He didn’t pause for guesses. “A real estate agent from Wooster. Do you know how much she thinks we could get for this farm?”

  Leah blinked, speechless.

  Again, he allowed no opportunity for speculation had she desired, but announced an enormous dollar amount. The bag of flour slipped from her fingers, landing with a thud on the clean sheet of parchment paper on the counter.

  “Can you believe it? Wait until I tell Mom. She’s not going to believe it. I think I’ll write her a letter right now.” He disappeared into the front room.