An Amish Family Reunion Read online

  Emma felt her stiff back muscles begin to relax. “How did you get to be so smart, James Davis? Was it at that fancy college?”

  “By eating a handful of chocolate baking morsels every day until the bag is empty.”

  “In that case, tomorrow I’ll buy three bags—one of them just for me.”

  Winesburg

  Without a cloud in sight, the July sun began to fry the two Miller women like bacon on the griddle. Hannah and Phoebe had been hard at work all morning, picking green beans in the garden. After lunch they returned to the straight rows as soon as the dishes had been washed. Hannah wiped her brow with a sodden handkerchief, trying not to think about the bee buzzing around her head. “A couple more rows and we’ll be done. Then tomorrow we’ll blanch and can. I’ll bet we’ll be able to put up at least a hundred quarts this year.” Despite her cheery tone, Hannah received nary a word in response. Phoebe, kneeling on a cushion between the rows, was concentrating on the low beans hiding behind leaves.

  “How about green beans for supper? I’ve worked up quite a taste for them today,” asked Hannah.

  “Sure, mamm, that will be fine.” Phoebe advanced her kneeling pad like a robot, but didn’t look up from her work.

  “That was a joke, daughter.”

  Phoebe peered up, wiping sweat from her eyes with a sleeve. “A joke? What do you mean?” The girl looked pale and wan, and perhaps even thinner than her usual one hundred pounds.

  “Never mind.” Hannah rose shakily to her feet. Her legs had stiffened in the uncomfortable position. “That’s enough gardening for today. It’s sweltering out here. We’ll finish the last rows tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow? No, please let’s get this done now.” Phoebe kept plucking with her small fingers with feverish determination. While Hannah watched, a bead of perspiration ran down her already streaky cheek as she added the beans to her overflowing basket.

  Hannah hoisted her bushel basket to one hip. “Come on. At least let’s head to the house for some cold water.” She stretched out a hand.

  Phoebe’s expression could only be described as terrified. “But if we don’t get them all picked, how will we do the canning tomorrow?”

  “Will it be the end of the world if we don’t finish canning?”

  The young woman’s face indicated it might very well be. “But I had hoped to spend most of Wednesday at the library after morning chores. Please don’t drag this out so I miss my day in town.”

  Hannah smiled down with pity. “I haven’t forgotten your date to work on the book with Eli, but we don’t need to suffer heatstroke in the meantime. Come,” she ordered, and again offered a hand. “If I must finish picking by myself, so be it.”

  Phoebe dusted off her palms and then allowed Hannah to pull her up. She hefted her basket to her almost nonexistent hipbone. “The librarian, Mrs. Carter, will help me look up addresses on her computer this week. I want to allow as much time as possible. Eli won’t be there. He has…business with a Mennonite woman and will use his day off to go to Kidron. I’ll see him next week.”

  Hannah studied her as they climbed the porch steps. An afternoon in front of a library computer screen during the best weather of the year? Her shy stepdaughter was growing up if she took this project so seriously. “I have an idea. Let’s play hooky this afternoon. It’s too nice a day to be cooped up. We’ll hike up to the high sheep pasture. You can bring your pencils and sketch pad, and I’ll bring my Bible to read. We won’t come down until Ben and your dad send out a search party. What do you say? You’ll still have Wednesday to go to Winesburg.”

  Phoebe grabbed Hannah around the waist and hugged. “I say yes, since I’ve seen enough green beans to last a lifetime.”

  Hannah needed to bread pork chops for dinner and take down a load of laundry from the line before her afternoon of leisure. She sent Phoebe on ahead with a small cooler of soft drinks and some peanut butter cookies. An hour later, she found the girl easily enough. Phoebe was perched on her favorite flat rock, close to the ancient stone wall. Her tablet and supplies lay forgotten by her feet, next to an open can of orange soda. Instead of drawing, she had taken down her bun and sat brushing out her dark waist-length hair. Despite the fact they were alone except for sheep, Hannah was momentarily shocked by her behavior. Amish women never took off their kapps in public, nor let their hair fall freely.

  “What are you doing?” she asked as she reached the summit. “Why are you grooming your hair here in the middle of the afternoon?”

  Phoebe glanced up before resuming her one hundred strokes. “My scalp was hot and itchy. And I wanted to see what brushing hair felt like outdoors. Once, while I waited to be served at the ice-cream shop, I watched a shampoo commercial on the television set on the wall. A lady in a long white gown sat in the forest, brushing her hair with an absolutely joyous look on her face.” Phoebe tossed the brush back into her tote bag.

  “Well, what did you think?” asked Hannah, stifling a grin. “Does the outdoors make a difference?” She sat down on a boulder.

  “No, not really. It feels the same as in my room. But I do like the breeze blowing through it. It’s so much cooler on days like this. Why must we keep our hair hidden? I would like to wear one long braid down my back. It would still be out of the way. I get headaches with it coiled and pinned like a roll of garden hose.”

  Hannah chose her words with care. “A woman’s hair is her crowning glory—something only her husband should see.”

  “Why? It seems silly to jam so much hair under our kapps.” Phoebe hastily twisted her locks into a huge bun and pinned it to the back of her scalp.

  Hannah had to admit that Phoebe had far too much “crowning glory” for so small a person, but she also knew she needed to tread carefully here. The Ordnung was quite specific about head coverings. “Boys are fascinated by a girl’s hair. A young man could become enchanted with you and lose his ability to think clearly.”

  To Hannah’s surprise, Phoebe burst out laughing—an unexpected response. “You’re joking again, right? Like you were about the green beans? Boys seldom notice I’m in the same room with them. Eli was the first male to pay me any attention at all.”

  Hannah tilted her head back to catch some warm rays on her face. “I’m not joking in the least. The Bible is filled with stories of men led astray by women. Do you remember the story of David and Bathsheba?”

  Phoebe nodded, yet she didn’t look convinced. “But that was a long time ago.”

  “Some things between men and women never change.” Suddenly Hannah remembered that she’d brought her small Bible. “Let’s see what it says in First Corinthians. I believe it talks about hair.” She ran her finger down each page until she found the passage she sought in chapter eleven. When Phoebe moved closer to share the same rock, Hannah wrapped an arm around her shoulders and began to read:

  “Yes, if she refuses to wear a head covering, she should cut off all her hair! But since it’s shameful for a woman to have her hair cut or her head shaved, she should wear a head covering.”

  Phoebe whistled through her teeth. “Hard to imagine hair would be so important to get mentioned in the Good Book, beyond rules about not being vain or prideful.”

  Hannah smiled and decided not to say anything more. She knew her daughter didn’t need lecturing on the tenets of their faith. Both women found comfortable seats on the grass with their backs against the warm wall of rocks and their legs stretched out before them. The beauty of the high meadow soothed them after their busy morning in the garden.

  After a few moments of quiet contemplation, Phoebe asked, “Was my first mamm pretty?”

  Hannah felt a fist tighten around her heart. “I don’t know, dear heart. She passed away before I met your father. I was living in Pennsylvania when your mother was alive…and you were born.” She forced herself to breathe. Anything that reminded her of Phoebe’s dark, silent days when she’d first met Seth Miller made her feel weak and helpless. Following Constance’s tragic death, the lit
tle girl had withdrawn into a private world of grief and suffering.

  “Oh, that’s right. I forgot.” Phoebe released a sigh. “This is one time I wish Amish folk were allowed to take pictures. Maybe just one on their wedding day, in case something happens like it did to her.”

  “I understand.” Hannah patted her shoulder. “But your dad said Constance looked very much like you, so that means she must have been very pretty indeed.”

  “Danki, mamm.” Phoebe turned up her face. “Do you think Eli will like my dark horsetail hair if he ever gets to see it?” She tugged her kapp back on.

  “I’m sure he will. Only time will tell if he’s the one you’ll marry. People change, but God always has our best interests in mind.”

  Phoebe shook herself like a wet dog and scrambled to her feet. “I’m talking nonsense. It’ll be a long time before I marry, if I ever do. Lots of things can happen between now and then—buggy crashes, lightning strikes, heart attacks. Once I read in the newspaper about a man who choked to death on a chicken bone in a restaurant, right in front of his family. No matter how hard they slapped him on the back, he was dead before the rescue squad arrived.” She crossed her arms as though angry at someone…or something.

  “When the Lord calls you home, off you go,” said Hannah, for lack of anything more profound to say. “But we shouldn’t dwell on grim thoughts. Place your faith and trust in God and live the most productive life you can.”

  “I need to concentrate on being productive with my artwork and forget about impressing Eli or anyone else.” Phoebe sighed. “I’m heading back to the house. I have a book to read that the librarian loaned me, and I want to finish it by Wednesday.” In a flash, she grabbed her tote bag and tablet and skipped down the path.

  Hannah was left holding up the wall, wondering whether she’d made progress with her daughter…or taken two giant steps back.

  SEVENTEEN

  Julia swallowed another dose of pain relievers with a glass of water. With the weather hot and sunny, the inflammation in her joints had somewhat lessened, though it never completely went away. With chores done and an hour before she needed to start dinner, she contemplated how to spend an uncommon opportunity for relaxation. The sound of buggy wheels in the driveway took that decision away. Drawing back the curtain, she spotted a familiar dark navy dress worn by the more docile of her two girls—Leah.

  “Leah Byler, famous baker of pies and confections renowned throughout the county, to what do I owe this rare and cherished visit?”

  Her daughter stopped the open buggy by the steps and climbed down gingerly. “I missed my mother’s witty sense of humor. With Joanna still in Hancock, I grew lonely for someone to tease me. Jonah is busy in the dairy, but I’m caught up with my pie orders.” Rosy color bloomed across her cheeks. As usual, Leah looked the picture of good health.

  “Joanna is still in Wisconsin? Who’s taking care of her cheese business?”

  “Let me turn my horse into the paddock. Maybe Henry will rub her down a bit as I fill you in on the details. Could you carry these pies inside?” Leah lifted a hamper from the buggy as Julia ambled down the steps.

  “What kind are they—peach, chocolate cream, or Dutch apple?” Julia grabbed the handles as her stomach rumbled with anticipation.

  “One of each, plus a blackberry. The first berries from my briar patch were ready to be picked.” As Leah unhitched the mare, her brother Henry appeared. After a shy hello hug, he finished the job and then led the horse away to the cool shade.

  Inside the house, Julia lifted the pies from the hamper and watched her daughter from the window. Was she even a bit rounder than usual? Maybe being an expert baker wasn’t a blessing after all, but she knew better than to mention it. “Come inside,” she called, swinging open the door. “I have both lemonade and iced tea.”

  As Leah climbed the stairs, they heard another woman’s voice ring out. “What a treat. My timing to pay a social call couldn’t be better.” Hannah rounded the side of the house. “How are you, Leah?”

  “I’m fine, Aunt Hannah.”

  “Stop yelling, sister, before you draw the menfolk,” said Julia. Mother and daughter spoke simultaneously as they entered the house. “Then we’ll have to share our good fortune.” Julia pointed to the four pies lined up on the counter, one more sumptuous looking than the next.

  “Oh, my goodness.” Hannah placed her baking pan on the table and hurried to the pies. She leaned over each one, sniffing like a starving man at a banquet. “I want a slice of all four.”

  Leah pulled up the foil from the pan. “What did you bring, Aunt Hannah?” Without waiting for a reply, she extracted a cookie.

  “Oatmeal-spelt raisin cookies,” said Hannah, reaching for plates and glasses.

  “Spelt?” asked Leah. “I thought that was used as animal feed for cows and horses.”

  “Not anymore, young lady. It’s sweet and nutty tasting, rich in nutrients, and contains less allergen than traditional varieties of wheat. Ohio has become the largest producer of spelt in the country. Groceries and restaurants are starting to request it for baking.” Hannah glowed with pride as the other two stared at her.

  “You sound exactly like Seth,” Julia said, setting the pitchers of tea and lemonade on the table.

  Hannah blushed prettily. “He’s the one who told me. He finished harvesting and milling his first commercial crop to sell at the grain elevator.”

  “I hope he’s not gung ho, like the year he planted corn in every available square foot of land. When the price dropped, he was almost ruined.”

  “Don’t let mamm discourage Uncle Seth,” interjected Leah. “If this cookie is any indication, he’ll do well growing spelt. It’s delicious.”

  Julia began slicing up the blackberry pie. “Why are the three of us discussing wheat varieties? Surely you have more interesting stories, or you wouldn’t have endured the walk here in this heat.” She waved her spatula at her sister before lifting three pieces onto plates.

  Hannah accepted a slice of pie, poured herself a glass of tea, and sat down. “I do have a tidbit of news to share. Our Phoebe is courting.”

  “How wonderful! Who’s the lucky fellow?” Leah helped herself to another cookie.

  Julia perched one hand on her hip, looking confused. “Phoebe? That tiny, dark-haired gal who hides up in the hills whenever people come to visit? The same child who runs from boys as though they carried a dreadful plague? That Phoebe?” Julia lowered herself into a chair with her dessert.

  “Jah, that Phoebe.” Hannah angled Julia a stern look. “She’s turning eighteen, not thirty. What’s the big hurry?”

  “Please, Aunt Hannah, don’t let mamm rile you today. She’s just trying to stay in practice. Now, do you know who the young man is, or is it a secret?”

  Hannah tucked a stray blond lock where it belonged. “It’s Eli Riehl, the son of Robert Riehl who raises the best pork and hams around. I know they’re both young and neither have courted before, but I have a notion he just might be the one for her.”

  “Why?” Julia and Leah asked together.

  “Because he’s…unique in the same way she is. And you know how thinking alike goes a long way in forming relationships. I’m trying not to get too excited. Plenty of things can change when people are that young.” Hannah smiled at her niece fondly. “Now tell us, Leah, do you have any news to share?”

  Leah turned beet red and tried to hide behind her lemonade glass. “Mom asked about Joanna Byler right before you arrived. I wanted to fill her in on Byler news.” She dabbed at her mouth for cookie crumbs. “Joanna is still in Wisconsin at her sister’s farm. Every one of her letters raves about how wonderful it is to be back home.”

  “Wait until winter comes,” said Julia. “We’ll see if she’s so excited then.”

  “That’s just it. I don’t know if my mother-in-law is ever coming back. With both her parents gone, what if she decides to move back there?” A plaintive note rang loud and clear in Leah’s voice. />
  Julia and Hannah waited for her to continue. “And if Joanna does move?” prodded Julia. “Would she leave her cheese business to Jonah to run, besides his milk operation?”

  “I don’t think either of them would want that. It would be too much work. I’m afraid she’ll sell the farm and move us all to Wisconsin.” Two large tears slipped from beneath her dark lashes.

  Julia slapped her palm down. “You can’t be serious.”

  “I don’t know this for a fact, mamm, but it’s what I fear.” Leah reached for the hanky she kept tucked up her sleeve.

  “Fear is the devil’s handiwork. Don’t give in to it.” Hannah stated the words as though reading them off a wall plaque.

  “You’re right, Aunt Hannah, but some days I don’t know how to stop myself. I truly don’t want to move, but my place will always be with my husband.”

  “Pray, Leah, and turn the matter over to God. In the end His will shall be done. If you must go north, you might discover it’s for a very good reason.”

  Julia clucked her tongue. “I might be an old, crabby, selfish woman, but I can’t bear the thought of another child moving away. Matthew in New York, Emma in Charm, and you in Wisconsin? What would I do with myself?”

  “Drive Henry crazy?” asked Hannah, finishing off her slice of pie with a satisfied smack of her lips.

  “We’ll see how many jokes you crack if Phoebe marries and moves away.” Julia glared at her sister over her half-moon spectacles.

  Hannah nodded, mollified. “You have a point. I’m sorry, Julia. Should I slice into the apple next or the peach?”