An Amish Family Reunion Page 2

  “I’m not running anywhere until you’re planted in one of Hannah’s kitchen chairs,” Simon insisted. “And our old gelding needs the exercise more than we do.”

  “If Hannah sees you practically carrying me inside, she’ll start feeding me more of her herbal cures.” They paused midway to the house. “Boswellia, bromelain, yucca, turmeric, sea cucumber—do you know what those things taste like?” Julie wrinkled her nose. “I burped the other day, and it tasted like stagnant green pond water.”

  “How is it you know what stagnant water tastes like?” Simon clutched her tightly around the waist as they reached the porch.

  “I’d rather not say what my sister was like as a teenager.”

  “Whatever she gives you to eat or drink, you’ll take without complaint. One of these days Hannah will land on a miracle cure that will have you skipping like a schoolgirl again.”

  Julie gulped a deep breath and climbed the steps, clucking her tongue in disapproval. “Miracles from teas and tonics? And you—the district deacon. What’s gotten into you?” She reached for the door frame to steady herself.

  “All miracles come from the Lord, but He uses a wide variety of delivery methods.” Simon kissed her cheek. “I’ll see you at supper.”

  Julia waited until she stopped panting like a dog before entering her sister’s large, airy kitchen. “Hannah,” she called, finding the room empty.

  Hannah Miller bustled into the room looking as fresh and cheery as she had ten years ago. Amazing what the lack of chronic pain did for a person’s appearance and attitude. “You’re alone?” she said, pulling aside the curtain. “Where are your daughters? I prepared way too much glazed ham and potato salad if the rest of your family isn’t coming to eat.” She left the window and carried tall glasses of iced tea to the table.

  Julia smiled, lowering herself onto a chair. “Just Simon and myself, but I promise to eat ravenously. Henry will stop over later. He took the open buggy for a ride after spending hours yesterday polishing every inch with leather oil. I think he’s courting some gal, but when I drop subtle hints, he turns beet red and clams up.”

  Hannah sat on the opposite side of the long table—a table large enough to seat the entire Miller clan. “You, subtle?” She winked one luminous green eye. “Julia, you’re as subtle as a blind bull in a spring pasture. Poor Henry, being the only one left at home. What about Leah? She’s not coming either?” Hannah laced her fingers over her still flat belly. “I was itching for one of her peach pies.”

  “No fresh peaches yet. You would know that if you left your loom and spinning wheel once in a while. And all her canned peaches are gone. Anyway, she and Jonah are staying home today, as are Emma, James, and their two boys.” Julia leaned back in her chair. “I saw Ben chasing that dog of his, but where’s Phoebe?” She craned her neck to scan the living room. “Let me guess. She’s upstairs immortalizing the intricacies of a spider in her web instead of whacking it down with a broom.”

  Hannah took a long swallow of tea. “Too warm upstairs in her room. She headed to the high pasture with her tablet. Seth walked up to check on her, although she can’t get lost or into any trouble up there. Still, he would prefer she stay within eyeshot of the house at all times.”

  “I remember when you used to hide from people. Sometimes in the woods, sometimes down by the river when you first moved here from Lancaster. Especially whenever my Simon crawled up your neck.”

  Hannah snorted dismissively. “I wasn’t hiding from your Simon. I was plotting how to snare Seth into my web, just like Phoebe’s pet spider. It wasn’t easy, but I ran away from him so often he finally caught me.”

  The two enjoyed a chuckle. “The two Kline sisters marrying the two Miller brothers. It sure made things handy, no? Maybe that’s what your Phoebe does when she wanders off by herself. She’s plotting how to capture the eye of some hapless young man at the next social event. Isn’t she seventeen?”

  “Almost eighteen. But no, she won’t go to singings. She says they make her nervous. She’ll only attend work frolics and quilting parties. Not too many eligible young men attend sewing bees.” Hannah finished her tea and rose to refill both glasses. “She says she has nothing in common with boys her age.”

  “How would she know if she never steps out from behind your skirt? Has she ever talked to boys other than to say ‘Pass me the catsup?’” The words escaped Julia’s mouth before she could clamp her jaw shut. She mentally winced at her bad habit of overstepping the role of big sister. Running roughshod over folks—that’s how Simon referred to it.

  “Phoebe’s still young. She has plenty of time. People aren’t marrying so early anymore, not like when we were that age.” Hannah tucked a stray lock of flaxen hair under her prayer kapp.

  Julia rubbed her fingers one at a time. “She shouldn’t spend so much time alone. It’s not healthy.”

  Hannah shot Julia a look that meant You’re treading dangerously close to thin ice. “I realize with both of your daughters married that you have no one to needle and advise. You can always go back to me to keep your talons razor sharp.”

  “Ach, I would, but I threw my hands up years ago and declared you a hopeless case. You listen to advice as well as your sheep.” Julia stared out the window where the lilac bush was in full bloom without seeing the profusion of flowers. “At least your daughter has come a long way since you started courting Seth. How long did Phoebe go without speaking a single word—eight months, a year?”

  Hannah paused to consider. “Almost a year and a half. Constance’s death pulled the rug out from under her feet. Seth was trying to cope with a household without his wife, along with his own grief. He was too busy and too distracted to notice a little girl in serious pain.” She furrowed her forehead as memories of some very difficult months returned. “Seth wasn’t spending enough time with her because he had suddenly twice as much on his plate. But how can you explain that to a five-year-old?”

  “Then Phoebe watched all her daed’s attention being lavished on you.” Julia chanced a look at her sister.

  Hannah scoffed. “‘Lavish’ would hardly describe Seth’s interest in me.”

  “True enough. He erected quite a wall around himself while you patiently worked with Phoebe. Eventually, she came around and started talking again, but she’s still a very quiet child. No one would believe she was a Miller if she wasn’t the spitting image of Seth. They would have figured Constance discovered a foundling in the parking lot of Walmart and brought her home.”

  Hannah’s smile looked bittersweet. “Seth didn’t like being told how to raise his daughter, did he, but eventually he ran out of choices and took my suggestions.” She shook off the reminiscence like a dog in the rain. “Now he dotes on the girl, as much as she’ll allow him, to the point of wrapping her in a cocoon. Pity the poor boys that come around when Phoebe starts courting. Seth will probably stand guard in the front room with his squirrel rifle across his chest.”

  “I didn’t know Seth ever went hunting.” Julia lifted one eyebrow.

  “He doesn’t. He inherited that relic of a firearm from his daed. Just don’t tell the young men that gun hasn’t been fired in twenty years.” They enjoyed a good belly laugh while Hannah started pulling side dishes from the refrigerator.

  To feel useful, Julia pushed herself up from the table to get plates, glasses, and silverware. Sitting too long stiffened her arthritic joints, hastening the day when she would need more replacement parts. By the time Hannah carried the platter of sliced ham to the table, in trailed Seth, Simon, Ben, and Henry. Julia blinked at her son’s early appearance. “You’re back from your ride already, son?”

  Henry’s ears reddened while he washed his hands at the sink. “I saw what I set out to see.” He slunk to a chair like a stray barn cat.

  Phoebe slipped into the house then, joining them just in time for silent prayer. The moment everyone lifted their bowed heads and began passing bowls of food, Henry turned to his cousin. “After we eat, Phoebe, w
ould you like to see my new filly?” Despite the fact he was a grown man at twenty-one, he blushed whenever he addressed females, even family members.

  “Sure,” she agreed, popping a gherkin into her mouth. “What’s wrong with this one?”

  “Hardly anything. I picked her up at the Sugarcreek auction for a song. She had a mild limp, so other buyers passed her over.” He drained half his glass of milk.

  Simon set down his fork, dabbing his beard with his napkin. “You bought a lame horse, son? What are we going to do with her if she’s not fit for the buggy or pulling a plow?”

  Julia and Hannah exchanged a glance. Father and son had been down this road enough times to wear grooves in the pavement.

  “She’s not lame, Dad. A slight limp, that’s all. And she’s much improved since I started applying liniment and wrapping the leg.” Henry built a sandwich with home-baked rye bread, several slices of ham, and hot pepper relish.

  Simon grunted, picking up his coffee cup. “Could she at least pull a pony cart to earn her keep?”

  “Eventually. Maybe.” Henry bit into the stack, rendering further speech impossible.

  “Look at it this way—she is a filly and could turn into a fine brood mare someday.” Seth interjected his two cents’ worth into the conversation.

  Simon’s brows beetled above the bridge of his nose, focusing on his brother. “We don’t have room for the horses we own now. They’re already two to a stall, and my horse pasture is grazed down to nubs by July. I’ll have to start feeding them oats and timothy year-round.”

  “Maybe I’ll lease you some of our pastureland. Hannah’s flock is down this year. If you’re willing to pay me a fair price, that is.” Seth bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing.

  “I think it’s a fine thing you’re doing, nephew,” said Hannah, slicing pies at the counter. “Rescuing balky horses from the auction kill pen and then retraining them for useful lives is a noble calling.”

  Julia watched Hannah aim her dazzling smile at Simon. After all these years, she still loved getting her brother-in-law’s goat.

  “Jah, Hannah,” said Simon. “But the idea was to resell the horses at a profit and make a little income while he’s doing his good deed.”

  “I have sold some,” said Henry, after swallowing another mouthful of sandwich. “Just last month I sold that three-year-old Morgan to the bishop’s son. He couldn’t believe the change that had come over that horse with two years of training.”

  Simon rolled his eyes, pushing away his plate. “Two years for a Morgan to let someone put a saddle on his back?” His muttering was barely audible, knowing he was outnumbered by animal lovers in his brother’s home. “Fine, nursemaid your new filly. Just don’t turn my barn into the Miller Horse Sanctuary.”

  Phoebe straightened up in her chair. Small and shy, it was easy to forget she was in the room. “That has a nice ring to it.” She flashed Henry a grin. “Would you like me to make you a sign to put down by the road? I could paint a stallion and mare, with a young filly in the foreground. I’m pretty good at drawing horses.” She winked one warm cocoa-brown eye at him.

  Some of Julia’s tea slipped down her windpipe and then flew right out her nose as she gagged and coughed. The rest of the family laughed more moderately, except for her beloved husband, Simon. He simply stared at his favorite niece as though she’d grown a tail.

  “Danki for your generous offer, Phoebe, but that won’t be necessary,” he said in his most patient voice. “Everyone in the county already knows the location of Henry’s save-a-horse society.” Simon reached for the largest slice of pie among the dessert plates.

  Julia wiped her face and then left the table to blow her nose, trying to compose herself. She knew she needed to better control her drinking habits because she had a feeling it would be one long, hot summer.

  TWO

  Phoebe followed Henry outside once the table had been cleared. Julia insisted on helping Hannah with the dishes, granting Phoebe an unexpected reprieve from kitchen chores. She practically had to run to keep up with her cousin’s long strides as he walked toward the hitching post. In the shade of a sugar maple waited his usual Standardbred horse, harnessed to his courting buggy. But Phoebe would never refer to the open two-seater in such a way unless she wished Henry to turn purple. And because he was her favorite cousin, she did everything possible to avoid embarrassing him.

  “Where’s your filly with a limp?” she asked. “I thought she would be tethered to the back of your buggy.”

  “Climb in and I’ll drive you to our place. I didn’t want her standing around in the sun too long. Not until that leg is fully healed.” Henry freed the reins, stepped up into the buggy, and clucked his tongue to the gelding. They took off at a fast trot toward the road, even though the trip next door wouldn’t take long.

  “It sounded to me as though you waited for Sunday dinner to break the news to your father about the filly.” Phoebe appreciated his clever forethought.

  He tipped the brim of his straw hat up and grinned. “Do you take me for a dope, cousin? I knew Dad wouldn’t blow his stack while in his brother’s house.”

  She reached up to grab leaves from a low-hanging branch. “Your dad never blows his stack. He just gives that look that makes you feel mighty sorry for whatever you did.”

  “You must have had your windows closed the night Emma announced she was marrying an Englischer, or the time Leah came home to say her business partner had been arrested.” Henry smiled. “As for me, he’s never really lost his temper. But he could demand I stop bringing home kill pen acquisitions because the barn is getting overcrowded. Besides, I thought I’d give the liniment a few days to make a difference. At first I was afraid her limp might be permanent. Now I think she’ll be fit as a fiddle if the leg has time to mend.”

  The buggy rolled down Henry’s tree-lined driveway, raising a cloud of dust behind them. Seldom was the month of May dry enough to raise dust. “What do you plan to do with her?” asked Phoebe. She turned her face toward the sun, something her mother always cautioned against.

  “I know just the perfect girl to give this pretty filly to.”

  When Henry’s ears turned pink, Phoebe didn’t inquire further about the future recipient of the gift. She knew he would tell her eventually, so she changed the subject. “Aunt Julia almost choked on her tea when I offered to paint you a sign.”

  He drove the open buggy straight into the barn so that a sudden rain shower wouldn’t mar its shiny finish. “That was a good one, Phoeb, although I must admit Dad handled it well. If that suggestion had come from anyone other than you, he wouldn’t have remained as calm.”

  She jumped down and ran out the back door, knowing his latest acquisition would be in the shady paddock. Sure enough, an adorable long-legged spotted yearling stood nibbling daintily from a stanchion of hay. One leg had been wrapped in a bandage from the ankle to the knee. “You didn’t tell me she was an Appaloosa,” she exclaimed, trying not to startle the filly with her exuberance. Phoebe loved the coloration of large mocha patches against a cream-colored coat. It reminded her of chocolate Kisses slowly melting in a mug of warm milk. “They’re my favorites!”

  Henry joined her at the paddock, lifting his boot heel to the lowest rail. “I didn’t get a chance to at dinner, not after you asked what was wrong with her. If I thought you would like your own horse, she would be yours. But I know you’re not big on driving a pony cart, and you’d never ride a saddled horse the way Emma did if your life depended on it.”

  “That’s true. This is close enough for me. But she is beautiful, no doubt about it. Good luck with her rehabilitation.” Phoebe swatted a pesky mosquito, the first she’d seen this season.

  “Oh, before I forget, take a look at this. My…friend gave these to me to think about.” Henry pulled two folded papers from his pants pocket for her.

  She unfolded the mimeographed sheet first and read aloud. “Bus trip to Niagara Falls, New York. See the famous Canadian
Horseshoe Falls, ride the Maid of the Mist on the Niagara River, walk through Cave of the Winds to reach the base of the American Falls, plus many more attractions. Bus fare, two nights’ hotel accommodations, breakfast and dinner included. Chaperoned.” Phoebe glanced at the small-print details toward the bottom and peered up at him. “Niagara Falls? I would love to go there. I’ve seen pictures hanging on the wall in that tourist gift shop in Berlin.”

  “It’s just for Amish kids on rumschpringe. Not a bad price either.” Henry tapped the cost of the trip with his index finger.

  The amount sounded like an enormous outlay of money, but she wasn’t deterred. The trip’s appeal grew by leaps and bounds with each passing moment. “Do you think there would be time to sit and sketch?”

  “I don’t see why not. Rebek—I mean, my friend said there’s a big state park with flower gardens, a rock climbing wall, a nature center, a gigantic movie screen, and even an aquarium. Folks could wander around and choose whatever they wanted to see.” Henry’s enthusiasm almost rivaled her own.

  Phoebe’s breath caught in her throat. It sounded too good to be true. “Are you going, Henry? You and your friend?” She clutched the fliers to her chest.

  His expression fell. “Nein, I can’t go because I spent every last cent on her at the Sugar Creek auction.” He gestured with his head toward the Appaloosa munching hay. “I dare not ask for a loan. Dad would only bring up my impulsive horse buying. But Rebekah Glick plans to go with her sister. You know both of them and could hang out together. The other brochure is from the state park, explaining the different attractions that are part of the package. Take the brochure and flyer to look over tonight, but make up your mind soon. The trip is in two weeks. You have only three days to get your deposit in.”