An Amish Family Reunion (25 page)

“Hi, Eli,” she called. “I’m ready to go.”

“Then climb up, sweet peach, and let’s get this traveling show on the road.” His face glowed with a burnished summer tan.

“Did you ever see a traveling road show?” she asked, accepting his hand.

He nodded. “I went to a circus in Wooster a few years ago. They had tigers and elephants and a man who walked the high wire. I loved it, except for the big deal they made out of the Lipizzaner Stallions. Who couldn’t ride a horse bareback around the ring?”

“I can’t,” she said sitting as close to him as decorum allowed.

“Well, I can’t either,” he admitted, “but I’d bet your cousins Henry and Matthew could…probably with their eyes closed.”

“They’ll have that to fall back on if their careers as horse trainers don’t work out.”

Eli laughed, flicking the hair from his eyes. “Take a gander at how I’ve advanced our career.” He handed her a stack of large white mailing envelopes from a cloth grocery sack. “I have the twenty-two copies of my story, plus copies of your illustrations for each scene of the book.” He chewed on his lower lip.

Phoebe pulled a paper-clipped group of images from the first envelope and gasped. They were glossy with bright colors that popped, yet the story scenes had remained natural and true to life. She paged through them one at a time, stunned by the sight of her sketches turned into beautiful works of art. “These came out much nicer than I thought or dreamed they could. I love them, Eli.
Danki
.” Her single word of gratitude sounded woefully insufficient.

He ducked his head, grinning. “You’re welcome. I’m glad you like the chosen effects because there were plenty to pick from. I made a few extra packets so we can each save one for our old age. We’ll sit on the back porch and reminisce. ‘Remember our harebrained notion to become fancy book writers?’” Eli mimicked the scratchy, hoarse tone of an elderly man as the horse clip-clopped down the road. “Those were the days.”

“It’s not a harebrained idea. Wait till you see what I have done during our two weeks apart.” She placed his packets back into the grocery sack before taking out her manila folder. “Twenty-two letters addressed to our likeliest publishers, along with mailing labels. All we need to do is sign our names in the space here.” She fanned the letters in front of his nose as a car passed them on the left.

His mouth formed a perfect letter
O
in astonishment. “I can’t believe it. The letters are ready to go? Those are all publishers of children’s gift books?”

“Every one of them produces the kind of story we’ve written.” Excitement coursed through her veins like wildfire. It would take a garden hose to tamp down her enthusiasm. “I must admit that Mrs. Carter helped a lot with these. I had no idea you could print out letters with a different name and address on each one.”

“I didn’t either, but that’s rather convenient. And what’s wrong with accepting help from willing folks? No one accomplishes anything in this world totally on his own. I’m proud of you, Phoebe. Good work.” Without warning, he leaned over and kissed her cheek.

Startled, she instantly scooted away from him. However, in this size of buggy, she couldn’t get far. “They’re just letters, Eli, hardly demanding of a kiss.”

“The kiss had nothing to do with letters or labels. I kissed you because I like you and you like me.” With his eyes focused on the road, he suddenly feigned alarm. “You
do
like me, don’t you? Or have you been faking it all this time just to get your artwork published? Do you go home after we’ve been together muttering: ‘That Eli Riehl. I’ll be glad when this book is done and I never have to see his homely face again.’”

She burst into giggles, which alleviated her mental state. The kiss, brief as it was, had left her discombobulated. “
Jah
, I like you. And I haven’t once gone home muttering I’d be happy to be rid of you. Not yet, anyway.”

He wiped his brow with his forearm. “Whew, that’s a relief. I’ve usually gotten on folks’ nerves by now, so this bodes well for happily ever after.”

The fluttery sensation in her gut started up again. “What do you mean by that?”

“Well, because we have plenty in common and have started a business venture together, and because the mere proximity of me doesn’t make your skin crawl…I’d say there’s a long-range possibility of us—you and me, in particular—forming a romantic partnership as well. So, may I consider the rest of the afternoon and evening a date—as in courting?” He peered at her, fluttering his eyelashes.

“That was a lot of words, Eli Riehl, but I believe I understood the gist.” She twirled a lock of hair that had come loose from her bun.

“What say you?” He wiggled his brows.

She shrugged with great exaggeration and summoned her most ambivalent tone. “I suppose so, seeing that I’m not courting anybody else. That is, I’m happy with this arrangement until a worthier candidate presents himself.” She smiled as sweetly as a cat in the cream.

“Bravo! I take my victories wherever I find them. Now, if we are as successful in our partnership and sell millions of books, how do you see us living our future life, assuming we do one day marry? Keep in mind your statements in no way obligate you to future commitments to me should your skin start to crawl any time between now and then.”

“You talk as though words were on sale at the bargain outlet and you purchased every last one.”

“I’ve heard that before, but please don’t avoid the question, Miss Miller.”

“I wish to always remain Amish, that’s for sure. But if we were to make lots of money, I would fatten up every medical fund for each district in the county. And should we someday get hitched, I would hire another Amish woman to run my kitchen, maybe a widow with no family. I would still do the gardening because that has grown on me, but I would need time for my artwork.” She almost added the words “and
kinner
,” but stopped herself. The embarrassment of uttering something so personal would certainly derail her confidence. “How about you?”

He slapped the reins against the horse’s rump to step up the pace. “I thought you would never ask. I would also hire someone, a farmer without his own spread, maybe two of them, to help my dad. And when my sisters marry, I’ll build each one a house on our farm so their husbands can join Riehl and Son Swine and Beef, the more the merrier. Then the closest I’ll come to a hog pen will be interviewing the sow for my stories…or when I sit down to ham and potato salad at Sunday dinner.” He swept off his hat to run a hand through his long hair.

“You think she’ll want to be in your story?” she asked, facing him on the seat.

“If it’ll delay or prevent ending up on someone’s table, then yes.” Eli turned the buggy into the library parking lot. “You go in and return your books, but try not to dawdle. I’ll wait for you here. I have something to do.”

Phoebe gathered up her things and hopped down, throwing a quizzical expression over her shoulder.

The librarian, as usual, beamed when she saw Phoebe. Mrs. Carter had collected several more writing books for her to read and demanded news of their progress. Phoebe couldn’t check out and leave until she had provided an update. Outside in the parking lot, the sun temporarily blinded her as she looked for Eli’s buggy.

“Over here,” he called. He was waiting in the shade, hard at work at something in his lap. “Ready for your signature, Miss Miller.” He handed her a pen as she climbed up into the buggy.

“What?” She paused on the metal step, waiting for him to pick up the packets and envelopes spread across the seat.

“I’ve gone ahead and affixed the correct label to match the letter and signed my name in the correct spot. As soon as you add your John Hancock we can finish our submissions.”

“Who was John Hancock?”

“It’s not important right now. Start signing.” He cleared a spot for her to perch and presented the first batch.

With trembling fingers she wrote “Phoebe Miller” twenty-two times above his name on the letters. Eli then inserted each finished letter into the appropriate envelope with the story and artwork and sealed it shut. After he’d tucked the final packet into the tote, he whistled through his teeth. “To the post office. We should just make it before they close.” He released the brake and shook the leather reins.

The horse pulled onto the pavement before Phoebe had a chance to collect her thoughts. “Right now?” she squeaked. “Are we ready to send them off
today
?”

He offered a sideways glance. “Time and tide wait for no man…or woman. The sooner they’re mailed, the sooner we’ll hear something.”

She didn’t argue, but she couldn’t shake the sudden wave of anxiety that filled her belly. As much as she wanted this, she feared the unknown territory they were entering. This wasn’t like running a produce stand or breeding pups for sale. This was publishing, and they were two Amish
kids
. Her
mamm
was right about that. Shouldn’t they at least have consulted their bishop first or Uncle Simon?

But within minutes the decision was taken from her. Eli marched into the post office with his wallet and grocery sack full of envelopes and sauntered out a little while later wearing a grin. “They’re on their way, all twenty-two sent first class. According to the clerk, every one of them should arrive within two days.” He climbed into the buggy and brushed her lips with the sweetest of kisses. “We’ve begun our journey, sweet peach, for better or for worse. Let’s head to the restaurant. I’m starving and this is supposed to be a date, not just another work session. For the rest of today, you will witness my attempt at courting.”

Phoebe’s head still reeled from the second kiss and from the bold move they’d just taken. Eli didn’t seem affected by either, but she had to grip the bench just to stay in place. There was a distinct possibility of either fainting or floating off into the clouds.

Days didn’t get any hotter than the one Joanna Byler had chosen to return home from Wisconsin. Leah straightened her back in the vegetable garden and wiped her face with her apron. So far that morning she’d fixed breakfast, swept the floors and dusted, baked six cherry pies, and fixed sandwiches for lunch. Now, unless she picked the remaining green onions, radishes, and leaf lettuce, they would go to seed and become inedible. Jonah had instructed her to take it easy in her “delicate condition,” but then who would do the housework? At least his dairy employees had taken over Joanna’s responsibilities with artisan cheese production or Leah would have had to give up sleeping at night.

She blinked several times as the hired van pulled slowly up their driveway. She blinked once more as Jonah’s mom stepped out of the van, looking annoyingly fresh and well rested.

“Leah, dear child, you look ready to liquefy,” sang Joanna. “Come out of that hot sun and give me a hug.”

Leah stepped over the low garden fence and approached her mother-in-law on shaky legs. The driver set suitcases and several plastic totes on the lawn before he accepted payment, tipped his hat, and left. She reached for one suitcase handle, but Joanna intervened. “Don’t you touch that, young lady. Jonah called me from his business phone line in the barn and gave me the blessed news. He couldn’t wait to tell me, and I must say I’m pleased as punch. A
grossmammi
—I can’t wait!” She threw her arms around Leah and hugged.

Leah, damp from head to toe from hard work and the humidity, felt embarrassment over her disheveled state. “If I’d known you were arriving today, I would have freshened up.”

“Nonsense, it’s healthy to sweat. Anyway, I wanted to surprise you. Who needs fancy preparations?” Joanna stood in her side yard, gazing around like a tourist. “Let’s leave the luggage for Jonah to carry in. We’ll just go inside and see what I brought back.” She lifted the plastic sacks and practically skipped up the path.

Leah followed her into the house, feeling like a heifer pregnant with twins.

“Oh, my, it smells wonderful in here. Is that cherry pie?” Joanna hurried to the window ledge where the pies were cooling. “Yummy. I hope one is for tonight and not all to sell.”

“Of course we can cut one.” Leah slipped off her gardening gloves and washed her hands by the sink, longing to stick her head under the faucet.

Joanna retrieved the pitcher of lemonade from the fridge and poured them each a glass. “Wait until you hear what I’ve learned. They’re doing plenty of new things up north with specialty cheeses. Everything is a spread these days, mainly soft cheeses combined with you name it: herbs, vegetables, spices, sour cream, horseradish, bacon, and even seafood. They make crab spread, lobster, and, of course, shrimp. They even combine smoked cheddar with red wine.”