An Amish Family Reunion Page 15

  She nodded with more assurance than she felt, but as with most things in life, she knew each journey started with a single step. “Did you tell your family about what we’re doing?” she whispered.

  “Only Rose, not my parents. I guess I’m closer to her than my other sisters. She was downright encouraging. I wonder why she’s buttering me up?” He scratched his clean-shaven jaw.

  “Could it be she just wants you to be happy?”

  He pondered this and laughed. “Maybe, or she wants me to beat the carpets for her, or perhaps introduce her to everyone I know at the auction barn. At twenty-three, Rose would love to get hitched. I’m only nineteen. I have an hour or two before I need to meet the woman of my dreams.”

  Phoebe pulled the giant book back. “Enough of your silly talk. I’ll check the fiction listings for which publishers produce children’s gift books. You write down what I tell you. Time’s a-wasting.”

  Eli straightened up and positioned his pen over a fresh page of his notebook. For the rest of the afternoon, he carefully copied the information for twenty-two publishing houses that might turn their dream into reality. When they were leaving, Phoebe returned the materials to the librarian and thanked her profusely.

  “I’m happy to help,” Mrs. Carter answered. “And this book on crafting children’s fiction can be checked out.”

  “All right, I’ll take it home.” Phoebe handed the woman her library card to swipe.

  “One day closer,” she said, placing the book into a plastic sack. “See you next week.”

  In the parking lot Eli pumped her hand and then hurried toward his own buggy. “I just remembered I was supposed to go to the grocery store for my mom and still haven’t done so. I’ll see you in two weeks, Phoebe. Next week I’ll drive up to Kidron on my day off.” His buggy left in a flurry of dust and a scattering of back lot gravel.

  Phoebe traveled home at a far more leisurely pace, content to replay everything Eli had said over in her mind. “I have an hour or two before I need to meet the woman of my dreams.” Was he talking about her? Once again she had been stymied by his teasing and cryptic comments. But what did it matter? She wouldn’t turn eighteen for several more weeks, so she had plenty of time to think about courting. Perhaps it would be a blessing if she never married, considering how much she hated cooking, cleaning, and doing laundry. Yet Eli was the only man she knew who seemed not overly concerned about a perfectly run household. She could just picture the two of them creating stories on the back porch while supper burned in the oven, laundry overflowed the hamper, and weeds overran their vegetable garden and farm fields.

  Phoebe grinned at the mental image. Marriage was something she considered as seriously as traveling across the country in a hot air balloon. That is, until she met Eli. But a business partnership was very different than wedded bliss. In the Amish community, marriage was for a lifetime, while their partnership could be dissolved upon receipt of their twenty-second rejection letter. Mrs. Carter had explained about queries, rejections, and how long it usually took for publishers to make up their mind on books. The librarian also explained what agents could do for writers, but she assured Phoebe that they should be able to get their work seen without one. Only discouragement could ever steal away her dream, according to her new mentor, right before she dumped a load of research materials onto the table. Phoebe vowed never to become discouraged, no matter what the future held for her and Eli. With faith in God and in herself, how could a book that teaches children kindness and tolerance possibly fail?

  That night at supper, both her parents chatted about the Miller family reunion next month. Ben named the friends he would invite, while Mom planned what she would cook ahead and store in the propane freezer, and Dad considered what advice to seek from Matthew regarding horses. As the conversation around the table continued, Phoebe retreated into her private world of ornery cows mired in river mud.

  “I said, how goes the kinner book?” asked Seth, scraping another mound of yellow beans onto his plate.

  She blinked several times. “Gut. I have a picture to go with each scene of the story.” Her forkful of roast beef hovered in midair.

  “Your mom told me you were courting Eli Riehl. I must say I was surprised, but in a good way. I know Bob Riehl from the grain elevator. He’s a fine man with a practical head on his shoulders. I’m sure his son has the same good common sense.”

  She ate the forkful, taking time to consider her reply. “Jah, Eli is quite a thinker, but I wouldn’t exactly describe us as courting. We’re more or less partners on our little venture.”

  Seth met Hannah’s gaze and both started smiling. “You two wouldn’t be the first shy people who broke the ice with a joint project as a diversion. But I must say writing a book is a new one for me. Usually it’s a shared vegetable stand or maybe partnering up to breed dogs for sale.”

  Phoebe stared at her father. “This isn’t a diversion, daed. We’re truly writing a book.”

  Seth snorted while loading his fork with potatoes. “What would you two have to write about—your weekend trip to Niagara Falls? Lots of water flying over the edge making one big splash at the bottom, day after day until the end of time? Might be a pretty site, but it would be a rather short story.” He laughed heartily.

  Phoebe crossed her arms, focusing on her mother. Hannah shrugged her shoulders. “I had to tell him how you two met. Your dad was curious because you seldom leave the farm. But we’re both pleased as punch that you’re cour—I mean, consulting with Eli on your drawings.” Hannah smiled as she walked to the refrigerator for the pitcher of iced tea.

  Phoebe swallowed hard and cleared her throat. “It’s no secret how we met, but I want you both to understand we’re serious about this. Our story isn’t a vacation memoir. It’s a children’s book that illustrates good Christian behavior. We intend to send our work out to various publishers to see if one will print and distribute the book.”

  Now it was her parents’ turn to stare. “For what purpose?” Seth asked.

  “To sell, of course, to parents and grandparents like the other books in the Christian bookstore in town.”

  “Amish people don’t write books,” he stated, drawing his brows together into one bushy line.

  “Actually, a few Amish people have written books with assistance from their Mennonite friends,” said Hannah, refilling everyone’s glasses.

  Phoebe smiled with gratitude at her.

  Seth quickly drank down his tea and then scrambled to his feet. “I have evening chores to do. I’ll let your mother talk some sense into you, daughter. Let’s go outside, Ben.”

  Hannah waited until the screen door slammed shut behind them. “It will be very difficult for an Amish pair to get their book published. But I don’t wish to discourage you—life holds enough disappointment for all of us. So good luck, and any time you want to discuss this, I’m ready to lend an ear.” Her smile held only tender patience.

  “Danki, mamm,” she murmured. Right now, that was all Phoebe needed.

  Midway between Winesburg and Baltic

  Leah clutched her belly with one hand, while her other gripped the armrest for dear life. “I’m taking it as slowly as I safely can,” said Lily Davis. “The road to Baltic is loaded with potholes.”

  “It’s not your fault. They’ll work all summer to patch these roads, finishing by fall and just in time for the winter damage to start again.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want to see a real doctor? I know a woman gynecologist in Wooster who would be happy to squeeze you in.”

  “No, thank you,” said Leah, holding her breath as Lily’s truck rounded a curve. “The nurse-midwife at the Amish birthing center will be real enough for me.”

  “Did you use that home pregnancy kit I dropped off in your mailbox?” Lily squinted at her from under the brim of her ball cap. Leah couldn’t remember ever seeing the English woman without the red OSU hat.

  “Jah, I used it.” Leah lowered her chin to stare at the floorbo
ards. The act of urinating on a plastic stick still embarrassed her a week later, even though she’d been alone in the bathroom and had told no one the results.

  Lily waited for further information as the modern brick building where Plain women went to deliver their babies appeared up ahead, but Leah remained quiet. After a moment, she asked, “Did you miss your regular monthly?”

  Leah peered out the window while nodding her head. Only when the truck braked to a stop in the parking lot under a nice shady tree did she release her death grip on the armrest. “Thank you for driving me here, Lily. Are you sure you don’t mind waiting during the examination? I know you’re busy while you’re back for the summer. I could call the hired van to take me home.”

  “Are you kidding? I brought my laptop to do paperwork. If you’re inside for six hours, it still wouldn’t be enough time for me to catch up.” Lily patted Leah’s hand. “Don’t be afraid. It’ll be only women in there. And all of them have probably been down this road many times before.”

  Impulsively, Leah hugged Lily and then stepped out of the vehicle. Walking the fifty-foot distance to the front door, she experienced a jolt of sheer joy. Was she actually expecting a boppli after four years of marriage? She had feared it wasn’t in God’s plan for her to become a mother. She knew Jonah wanted children very much, yet he was too gentle a man to bring up the subject. How would he take the news, if indeed there were good news to tell? As she walked inside the air-conditioned, spotlessly clean clinic, one rather selfish thought crossed her mind: If I am pregnant, I won’t have to endure any more trips back to Hancock.

  One and a half hours later, after being prodded, poked with needles, and examined internally in a rather bizarre position, Leah emerged from the birthing center with a far livelier pace. She carried a packet of papers, several brochures, and two booklets to read during the coming weeks.

  Lily Davis jumped out of the driver’s side. “Well? What’s the news?” she yelled. Since the parking lot was empty—even the nearest cow was half a mile away—Leah hollered back, “She said, ‘Yes, I am, maybe even seven weeks along!’” Leah hurried to the truck as fast as a pregnant Amish woman dared to run.

  Lily followed no such rules of decorum. She met Leah halfway, wrapped both arms around her and squeezed. “Congratulations! I’m so happy for you and Jonah. Now let’s get you home so you can share your good news.”

  Leah allowed Lily to tuck her into the passenger side solicitously, but she drew the line when Lily produced a lap blanket. “Don’t be silly. It’s eighty-five degrees. I won’t get cold between here and Winesburg. As a vet, you deliver babies all the time.”

  “Only calves, colts, and fillies. No humans, but considering how long this drive is when you’re ready to deliver, you might be my first. You’d better call me the moment you start labor. Fortunately, my practice is nearby.”

  They tried out the sound of baby names to see how they sounded with Byler for the rest of the way home. Once they were in her driveway, Leah turned on the seat. “Thanks, Lily. Not only for the ride but for sharing my joy. Now if I can ask for one more favor—please say nothing about this to your brother.”

  Lily grinned. “Because James will tell Emma and that will spoil your fun.” She pinched her fingertips together and drew them across her mouth. “My lips are sealed.”

  “I can’t wait to tell Emma and Mom, but I want to wait at least another month. The midwife said that the first three months are the most dangerous in terms of miscarriages.” Leah’s cheeks grew warm just voicing the word.

  “I’ll say a prayer tonight for a smooth, safe pregnancy and every night until your little one arrives.”

  Leah felt emotion well up, threatening her self-control. She nodded and climbed out into the hot summer sunshine. She would have her own prayers to say that night, starting with words of gratitude for the new life growing inside her. It might be a normal, everyday occurrence, especially considering the large families within the Amish community, but it was a rare, special miracle for her.

  She found Jonah in the small office where he kept track of farm operations. He tried to update his log of activities and dairy conditions on a regular basis. It was no easy task to run a grade-A milk operation using diesel-powered generators rather than electric current from the grid. He heard neither his door open, nor the fall of her footsteps. “Jonah,” she said softly.

  Bent over his record books, her beloved husband continued to work.

  “Jonah,” she said, more insistently.

  He startled, dropping the pencil he’d been twirling between his fingers. “Leah, what are you doing in here?” His face filled with concern. “Is something wrong?”

  “Nothing is wrong. In fact, things are…quite fine.”

  “A relief to hear. Why don’t you rest after your errands in town while I finish up? I’ll be in the house soon.” He turned his focus back to the ledgers.

  “I’m not tired, but I do have a question. Did you ever wonder why I was so sick on the bus ride?”

  He did not glance up. “Nope. That bus rocked like a ship in high seas.”

  “Haven’t you been curious why I haven’t been eating very much?”

  “I know you get irritated when your skirts no longer fit, so I assumed you were trying to lose weight. But you shouldn’t. I love you just how you are.”

  Leah shifted her stance, stifling a sneeze. Her allergies were signaling that time mingling with cows soon would be up. “Have you ever thought about when God would bless us with children, Jonah Byler? Or do pregnant heifers occupy all your thinking time?” Her tone discouraged any further lack of attention.

  At last Jonah dropped his pencil and turned to look fully at her. “Leah—a boppli?”

  “Jah, Jonah, a boppli. At long last.” When she spotted tears in his eyes, nothing could hold back her own as he enveloped her in his strong arms.

  SIXTEEN

  Charm

  With the supper dishes done and her kitchen tidy, Emma strolled onto her wraparound front porch carrying two glasses of lemonade. She loved this time of day when she could sit and rock, watching James play in the yard with their sons. Her work might be finished, but something niggled at the back of her mind. And this was a good time to get it off her chest. As she watched her husband chase after the boys in the grass, Emma planned her strategy. Discussing a man’s mother could be a minefield, yet her dilemma with Barbara Davis couldn’t be ignored any longer.

  “James, please put them in the sandbox,” she called. “They can play for a while before bedtime while you sit here with me.” She patted the second rocking chair, a wedding gift from his brother. “There’s something I need to discuss with you.”

  James swept up both boys, one in each arm, and carried them to their sandbox. “You two play nice. Daddy needs to see what Mommy wants. He might be in big trouble.”

  Jamie giggled and clapped his hands. “Daddy’s getting a spanking,” he cried with great glee.

  James climbed the stairs and settled down beside her. “Did you catch me drinking from the milk carton again?”

  Emma bit the inside of her cheek and shook her head.

  “I suppose you discovered I ate all the chocolate chips you were saving for cookies?”

  “You didn’t! I needed those for tomorrow,” she said, shocked. “But no, that’s not it.”

  “Surely you didn’t find my private jet hidden in the woods, did you? I had it perfectly camouflaged.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Would you please be serious? I have a problem…with your mother.”

  He straightened in the rocker. “What did she do this time?” He winked affectionately.

  Emma filled him in on the details of Barbara’s first visit to discuss her upcoming mission trip to Haiti. Then she inhaled a deep breath and forged ahead. “She asked me to attend a meeting at her church with her pastor and so I did.”

  “What did you think, Em?”

  “I thought what the people from the different churches will be
doing is a great idea. They’ll help rebuild lives of those still affected by the hurricane. Those with no particular nursing, construction, or other skills will primarily be spreading the Word of God. The people of Haiti speak French, James, which I don’t know a word of. I’m still not confident with some of my English pronunciations, so my teaching wouldn’t be very good. I know New Order Amish is supposed to witness to their faith, something Old Order doesn’t do, but I don’t want to venture into a foreign land with my limited abilities.” She finished in a rush of words, practically panting for air, and began rocking in her chair with purpose.

  “This decision doesn’t sound tough to me.” He stroked his long blond beard, the hallmark of a married Amish man.

  “Easy enough for you to say, but what do I tell your mother? You know how determined she can be.”

  “I do, but the solution is simple. Tell her you considered her offer but decided this isn’t something you wish to do. Period. You’re a grown woman, Emma, and entitled to make your own decisions.”

  “And if she doesn’t speak to me for a month?”

  He angled a lopsided grin. “Do you really want me to answer that?”

  “No, I suppose not, but I want her to know I’m willing to witness my faith, just not in Haiti. And I’ll hold bake and rummage sales, sew things, and pack up supplies to benefit the cause. My heart goes out to those people, the same as hers.”

  “Then tell her exactly that. Stand firm, dear wife. We are our own family. We’ll serve the Lord in our own way. Now, how about we catch some fireflies with the boys before bedtime?”

  She smiled at him. “There’s something else—a problem I’m having with my own mamm.”

  He threw his head back, laughing. “You’re getting it from both sides? And you haven’t run away from home yet?”

  Emma repeated her conversation with Julia about their sons’ lack of language skills, practically word-for-word.

  James listened patiently until she finished. “Your mother is right. We should be talking Deutsch in front of them so they’ll learn and so I’ll improve. And I think her solution is perfect. You take the boys there for the month while Matt is home but turn them over to her care. You and Martha do all the housework and cooking while you’re visiting with your brother and Dad. Julia will have plenty of time to teach her grandsons. By the time I come for the family reunion, she’ll have taught them Deutsch—if she doesn’t send them and you home in a hired van first.”