An Amish Family Reunion Page 21

  Leah gasped for air. “You sold it? Your dream?”

  “It was my dream, but then reality set in. I’ve tossed and turned far too many nights worrying about making ends meet.”

  “But May has a good head for business, far superior to mine…or yours.” Leah softened the words with a wink.

  “Yes, that’s true, and she has worked very hard. We both have. But first I had to pay off my share of the debt you and I incurred. Then I had to pay my sister back for bailing the restaurant out with the tax department. Once we put that behind us, we thought we would finally turn a profit. My husband hoped for help paying bills by now, instead of me causing more financial hardship for our family.” Her pretty blue eyes turned wistful. “But that never happened.”

  “Has business fallen off? The economy is taking a while to recover.”

  “No, business has been good. We have our local regulars and enough tourists find us that tables are usually full from the time we’re opened till closed. But the place is too small to make a profit. We can’t count on the outdoor tables with our unpredictable weather. And I dare not expand hours to include dinner because I’m away from my family too much now.”

  Leah patted her friend’s hand. Not much had changed over the past four years. The basic limitations of a train car only open four days a week until three o’clock remained the same. “And you can’t raise prices because the locals can’t afford to pay more until things get back to normal.”

  “Exactly.” April sighed wearily. “Tourists will choose the buffet down the road if I don’t remain a good value. The appeal of home-cooking only goes so far against all-you-can-eat.” She grinned, but then her gaze on Leah turned downright appraising. “That’s enough about my woes. The diner is sold, and frankly I feel a great burden is off my shoulders. Now, isn’t there some news you wish to share with me? I see a change has come over you.” One corner of her mouth lifted.

  Leah blushed up into her scalp. “What do you mean? Have I put on weight eating up all my pie profits?” She settled her hands on her rounded belly.

  “Not at all. It’s your countenance that’s different. Your face has the fresh tender bloom of summer roses. Is there anything you wish to share with me?” April made a rocking motion with her folded arms.

  Leah slapped the tabletop. “Fresh tender blooms, my foot. It’s ninety degrees in here and I feel uncomfortable in my own skin.” When April continued to smile, Leah relented. “You are impossible, but jah, I’m expecting a boppli. That’s part of the reason I can’t keep up with chores. My stomach turns queasy from the mere crack of an egg.”

  After a second round of hugs and tears, April sprang to her feet. “How can I help? I’m not leaving until order has been restored to this kitchen or the baby is born, whichever comes first.”

  “If you have time to spare, I sure could use those walnuts cracked and hulled.” She pointed at a brimming burlap sack on the floor.

  “Cracking nuts—my favorite. I have lots of time before my kids get off the school bus. Let’s get busy.”

  Several hours and multiple cups of coffee later, they had baked enough apple walnut, blueberry cheesecake, chocolate mousse, and cherry pies to fill the existing orders. After fixing lunch for Jonah and his helpers, Leah and April sat down to their own bologna with Swiss sandwiches and lemonade.

  “Where’s your mother-in-law? I heard Joanna had returned from Wisconsin.”

  Leah set down her sandwich, deciding to unburden her heart about the other troubling matter. “She has, but today she left with samples of her latest creations—peppercorn Colby and tomato-basil Gouda. She’s visiting cheese and gift shops to secure new orders. As though we don’t have enough work with her standing accounts.” Leah didn’t try to hide her bad temper.

  “Those varieties sound yummy. Maybe she should hire another employee.” April scooped more baby beets onto her plate from the jar.

  “Jah, I’ve suggested that, but instead of doing so she gives me more of her work. Today she asked me to sterilize her whey separator while she’s on the road. In my condition, that yeasty odor makes my head spin and churns my stomach. Joanna said Amish women work until they give birth, but usually not in a dairy.”

  “We’re heading there next. I’ve always wanted to see what she does. I’ve never tasted better smoked cheddar or almond Brie than Joanna’s.”

  “Sorry, April. That’s not why I mentioned this. You’ve helped me enough for one day and I’m grateful. Let’s just sit in the shade a spell.”

  “I won’t leave until you at least show me the dairy, so eat up.”

  Familiar enough with her former partner to know the woman meant what she said, Leah took her on an abbreviated tour of the cheese-making process. “Fresh milk is stored in those coolers. That contraption is our separator, and there is our diesel-powered pasteurizer. You must heat milk to one hundred sixty degrees to kill bacteria. Then we add exennet to start the solidifying process and heat the milk again to one hundred degrees. The whey then starts to separate and drops to the bottom. We next add ingredients for the different varieties, and curds form within forty-five minutes. Then you add salt, one batch at a time. After another hour, boxes are pressed and the remaining whey is forced out. Within twelve hours you have solid cheese. Then we store it in coolers for the proper amount of time, again depending on the type. Yogurt cheese only takes three days.”

  “How long does cheddar take?” April’s face glowed with interest.

  “It’s stored between three and four months.”

  “How do you get the holes in Swiss cheese?”

  “Gas pockets form naturally during the aging process.” Leah felt the uncomfortable rumble deep in her gut. “Would you excuse me? I’ll meet you back at the house. Feel free to look around.” She fled out the door and ran smack into Jonah.

  “Easy, fraa. No running. What are you doing in here? I told mamm that because the odors make you sick I would clean the equipment. Go up to the house and rest.”

  “Danki, Jonah. Could you finish giving April a tour? She’s visiting today, but I need some fresh air.” Leah fled to the sweet-smelling comfort of her kitchen, feeling guilty about abandoning her friend. But if she’d stayed another minute, Jonah would have had another sterilization disaster to contend with.

  Canton, Ohio

  Eli watched his father’s chest rise and fall with each life-sustaining breath. Although the man remained hooked up to IVs, monitors, and other equipment, he was now breathing on his own. The hospital had transferred him from coronary intensive care to a regular room that morning. And although he was still very weak, his father should be able to go home in another week if his improvement continued. Eli bowed his head in prayer, giving thanks to a merciful Lord. Robert Riehl would soon be able to return home to his wife, daughters, and a son who loved and depended on him. The surgeon had repaired a heart valve and inserted a stent into one artery to keep the blood flowing as it should. But the marvels of science—impressive at times though they might be—could never compare to the miracles of God.

  Eli had been led to check out health magazines from the library, something he’d never done before, and to read the article about administering CPR.

  He had been led to return home early that Wednesday afternoon and had found his dad lying unconscious in the barn. There still had been time to act.

  Even his blood turned out to be perfect to provide a transfusion during Dad’s surgery. It had been no accident that Eli was in the right place at the right time. It had been the will of God. And for His grace, he would always be grateful.

  “Is he still sleeping?” Rose’s voice startled him as she bent over his shoulder.

  “Jah, the nurse said that’s normal. He needs plenty of rest to recover.” Eli straightened the kinks in his back, one vertebra at a time. “How did you get here?”

  “My beau, Luke, hired a driver so I could see daed. That same driver is waiting at the main entrance to take you home. You need to sleep in a real bed f
or a change, instead of that chair, and take a good hot shower.”

  “The nurses let me shower down the hall.” He winced with pain as he rubbed the sore muscles between his shoulder blades.

  “What have you eaten?” A frown pulled her lips into a tight line.

  “They serve decent food in the cafeteria, but the prices are about to turn me into a beggar.”

  “Go home, Eli. The driver is waiting for a passenger to take back to Winesburg. You’ve been here for days and have done all you could. Now let your sisters take turns staying with Dad until we bring him home.”

  Eli met her gaze. “He’s going to be okay, Rose. I would have felt terrible if I hadn’t gone to the barn in time.” His poignant confession sounded hollow in the cold, sterile hospital room.

  “Ach, that’s ridiculous. If anything, you saved his life. There’s no reason for you to feel guilty.” Rose plopped down in the opposite chair, smoothing her skirt with both hands.

  “He might not have had the heart attack if I’d been more help around the farm. I should have assumed more responsibility as Dad grew older instead of doing only my assigned chores. And where was I when he wasn’t feeling good? Chasing pipe dreams with fellow dreamer Phoebe Miller.” Eli released a sigh of shameful regret.

  “You listen to me, little brother. Nothing you did or didn’t do caused this. According to the doctor, Dad has coronary artery disease. It’s hereditary and progressive, and it would have been fatal if not for your quick response. Mom should have changed his diet years ago to reduce his cholesterol level, and he should have been on high blood pressure medication.”

  Eli blinked in amazement. Rose had never shown interest in topics not directly related to the kitchen. “All this time we had a doc in the family and no one knew.”

  A grin lit up her face. “I’ve kept my mind busy reading that stack of health magazines you brought home. By the way, they’re all overdue. You’ll owe a big fine, and you’re already bankrupt from store-bought food.”

  He smiled at her before standing and leaning over the bed to kiss his father’s forehead. She was right. He needed to get back home. Both Rose’s and their sister Ruby’s beaus had been there to run operations along with help from nearby district members, but those men had their own chores to do. With his dad laid up, the farm was now his responsibility. At nineteen he was no longer a boy running off with his fishing pole to the swimming hole on a hot summer day. He was a man, and he yearned to be a man his father could be proud of.

  Just as he turned to leave, his father’s eyes fluttered open. “Am I still with the living?”

  Eli took a moment to decipher his soft, hoarse words. “Jah, and you’ll stay with us for a good long while.”

  “The Lord’s not ready for you yet.” Rose moved closer, her face streaming with tears. “Guder mariye, daed,” she greeted in Deutsch.

  “You’re both here? Who’s running the farm?” Deep lines crinkled around his eyes.

  The two siblings chuckled. “Mamm. And she says hurry and get well.” Eli squeezed his father’s hand through the blanket.

  Rose dabbed her face with a tissue. “Mamm was here for three days straight. She went home yesterday to bathe but will return tonight.”

  “So much fussing over one old hog farmer.” The strangled words caught in his throat.

  “You’re not old, but you’ll have to give up that bacon you love so much.” Rose smoothed the mussed hair back from his pale face. “You’re in the prime of life.”

  “But we are hog farmers.” Eli bent low to kiss his dad’s papery forehead again as a wave of love nearly overwhelmed him. The reality of what they had almost lost hit him like a mule kick. “And I’m going home to make sure they’re doing what hogs are supposed to do.” He swallowed hard as he straightened.

  Bob Riehl’s hand rose from beneath the covers and caught Eli’s sleeve. “Danki, son. Danki.”

  Eli nodded and left the room before he started weeping like a woman. He couldn’t wait to get home to start acting like the man he was.

  TWENTY-TWO

  Winesburg—Mid-August

  Butterflies took flight and bees darted between clover heads as Julia and two little boys strolled through the meadow. A light breeze from the south kept the bright sunshine from turning oppressive. “That is a kuh, Jamie. And these here are blumen.” Julia pointed at a cow grazing near the pasture fence and then pulled up a handful of flowers. She pronounced the word again in Deutsch as she transferred the buttercups to her grandson’s small hand. Jamie dutifully repeated what she said with a child’s typical eagerness.

  Emma and her two sons had been staying at the farm for ten days. They had arrived within a few days of Martha and Matthew to make the most of their month-long visit. So Julia made the most of the opportunity to teach her grandsons their native language. For an Amish child, Old Order or New, not to be fluent in the German dialect was unheard of. She wanted Jamie, the four-year-old, to have at least basic knowledge before the get-together for the whole district, or she would have to face the clucking tongues and shaking heads of her friends and quilting acquaintances. Women her age had strong opinions about maintaining their cultural heritage—opinions she agreed with.

  “Gaul,” said Jamie, pointing at one of Henry’s prized acquisitions up the hill.

  “That’s gut. Gaul,” she repeated with pride.

  “Cah-cah,” called little Sam, behind them.

  With horror, Julia turned to see the eighteen-month-old clutching a cowpat between his tiny fingers.

  “Cah-cah.” The boy repeated the word, utterly delighted with himself. The mess was smeared across the front of his shirt and trousers.

  “Jah, cah-cah,” agreed Julia. “That word is the same in every language.” She shook the animal waste from his hands. “No, Sam. Don’t touch cah-cah.” She chose English for her admonishment to make sure there would be no misunderstanding. “Let’s go to the house,” she said in both languages. She picked up the toddler and walked as quickly as her arthritic legs could manage while Jamie ran and jumped like a yearling colt. What would Emma say when she saw her son? Bad grossmammi, probably. She laughed to herself, recalling a few of her own kinners’ childhood exploits. Once Emma had spent an hour sitting in a tree after an ornery goat deemed her an unwanted trespasser in his pasture. Fortunately, Matthew had heard her distress calls, shooed off the goat, and helped his sister down from the branch.

  Pausing at the old hand pump, she washed the boy’s hands and face in case he touched something before reaching the bathroom. Inside the kitchen, Emma, Leah, and Martha were finishing breakfast dishes and starting preparations for supper. All the Millers would be at the cookout tonight. Lily Davis would bring her brother, pick up Jonah Byler along the way, and then stay to eat with James’ in-laws. James and Jonah planned to remain for the weekend with their wives. Seth, Hannah, Ben, and Phoebe would appear at various times during the afternoon as chores allowed.

  “What happened?” asked Emma, looking aghast. She stopped kneading bread dough to hurry toward her sons. Both boys beamed at their mother as though proud of some accomplishment.

  “Don’t touch him. He’s fine. He just needs another bath.”

  “Pee-u,” crowed Leah and Martha. After a few backward steps, they pinched their nostrils shut with two fingers.

  “Is that what I think it is?” Emma’s hand perched on one hip, while her lips twitched into a frown.

  “Relax, daughter. The world will soon be right again.” Julia hauled the boy toward the bathroom.

  “You must have gotten rusty, mamm. Or you’re falling down on the job,” Leah called after her, smiling behind her sister-in-law. That particular daughter looked the picture of health and happiness, and she was thoroughly enjoying her visit with siblings and their offspring. The other Miller women had already deduced her joyous condition, even though Leah made no admission.

  “It’s no wonder I’m rusty, considering how seldom I see my kinskinner,” Julia called from insid
e the modern addition to the century-old house. While filling the tub, she stripped off the child’s soiled clothes. “I would think a farm boy would know not to touch a cowpat,” Julia hollered toward the open door. Sam reached for a kapp ribbon with his wet hand.

  “He plays in a fenced section of our yard. We don’t let him run wild through the fields where cows and horses graze.” In the doorway Emma crossed her arms, but her expression revealed enjoyment of the situation. “What were you three doing while we cooked and cleaned and ironed clothes?” Her dimples deepened. No doubt about it—they were her prettiest feature.

  “I was teaching the boys the correct names of things. And making good progress too.” Julia tested the bathwater, added a capful of bubble bath, and a few moments later turned off the faucets. After undressing Sam, she lifted him into the tub. “Even this little one has started calling me mammi instead of Granny. I can’t believe Barbara Davis prefers that term over the others.” A natural competition existed between James’ mother and herself—the friendly, ongoing banter between two strong-willed women with different ideas on childrearing. Julia tied her kapp strings behind her neck, picked up the bar of soap, and began to scrub her small grandson.

  Emma stepped over her legs to get a fresh towel from the linen closet. “Would you like me to take over? You could help Leah and visit with Martha for a while. I don’t want the boys wearing you out. They’re a handful.” She patted her mother’s shoulder.

  “Ach, you were this age once. I’ll join the women while they’re napping. I only have a month with them, and I don’t want to miss a moment.”

  Martha’s son, Noah, abandoned his kitchen toys and wandered into the bathroom. He splashed around in the bubbles and soon began peeling off his clothes to join the fun. Emma laughed as she closed the door behind her. “Holler if you need help, and we’ll come running.”