An Amish Family Reunion (26 page)

Leah wrinkled her nose as she sipped her drink. “That sounds terrible.”

“Oh, no. I tried some on a cracker and it was quite tasty. The
Englischer
s want their cheeses spreadable to slather onto fancy crackers or scoop up with vegetables. It’s not like the old days, where you had a giant wheel of cheddar, one of Swiss, and maybe an aged blue cheese. Now everything is a concoction of some sort.” She grinned with delight as she dumped one bag onto the table. “I brought us plenty of samples to try.”

“But you had already expanded into exotic varieties right here in Ohio,” said Leah, growing defensive.

“
Jah
, true enough, but Wisconsin certainly is the cheese capital of the country with all that fresh water everywhere.”

Leah struggled to her feet, finishing her drink with a noisy slurp.

“Where are you going? I can’t wait to tell you about my trip to the Dells.”

Leah gritted her teeth, feeling old and mulish. “I’m sorry, but I need to finish picking the garden. If your stories will keep until supper, Jonah can enjoy them as well.”

“Right you are. I’ll drag in my suitcases, unpack, and start a load of laundry. I should change out of this dress too. Oh, Leah, I’m happy to see you and so glad about your blessed good news.” Joanna squeezed her again, leaving Leah feeling guilty about her uncharitable thoughts. But that guilt soon faded during the hours it took to pick the remaining produce in the merciless sun.

And yet, when she trudged into the house at the end of the day, the kitchen floor gleamed, fresh coffee awaited, and a savory pot of stewed chicken simmered on the stove.

“I was coming to drag you in by your
kapp
strings,” said Joanna. “Enough for one day.” She poured a cup of coffee and thrust it into Leah’s hands. “Take this with you while you soak in a nice cool tub. Dinner won’t be ready for an hour. I’m going to find my son. That man doesn’t even know I’m back yet.” Joanna stood with arms akimbo, looking far younger than her forty-four years.

“
Danki
,” murmured Leah, accepting the mug gratefully. Once inside the deep claw-foot bathtub, she tried to dwell on the positive aspects of her mother-in-law’s return: help with the housework and laundry, a female perspective for advice or venting steam, assistance scheduling the constant deliveries and pickups from running three separate home-based businesses. She wouldn’t let her one small fear creep in to spoil the homecoming: What if Joanna, enthralled by her home state, sold the Winesburg farm and moved them north?

But that one small fear loomed ever larger during supper. The only time Mom Byler wasn’t singing the praises of Wisconsin was when her mouth was full of dumplings. “Wait till you hear about Devil’s Lake, a state park in the Dells. They have the most incredible rock formations, cut by glaciers originally, and then by the wind and rain ever since.”

“Why would they name a pretty place after the evil one?” asked Leah, picking at her creamed spinach.

“I have no idea, but they have miles of nature trails with one stunning vista after another. We saw bald eagles and listened to loons each evening while falling asleep.”

“I thought a ‘loon’ was English slang for an insane person.” Leah’s petulance was beginning to show more than her pregnancy.

“Oh, no. They’re sort of a black spotted duck with the most sorrowful cry.”

“At least our mallards on the pond seem happy, and I hear there’s a nesting pair of bald eagles over in Shreve.” Leah met Jonah’s gaze but glanced away quickly.

“The lakes there are so clear and deep, they are perfect mirrors of the surrounding forest and overhead sky.” Joanna set down her fork to gesture with her hands.

“Deep lakes mean only one thing—cold water.” Leah shivered, even though the kitchen had to be eighty degrees.

Joanna stared at her curiously. “There were lots of folks at the swimming beach who didn’t seem to be suffering terribly.”

Jonah patted his wife’s hand. “You’ll have to excuse Leah,
mamm
. I believe the Ohio Department of Tourism has hired her as their spokeswoman.” Two of the Bylers enjoyed a hearty chuckle, while the newest Byler concentrated on her chicken leg.

“So tell me, what did my cousins do during your vacation?” asked Jonah.

“They hiked and climbed and fished every day. One day they rented kayaks for a trip down the river. That evening, my sister and I rented a rowboat and paddled out to the middle of the lake. It was so peaceful and quiet, we didn’t want to row back.” She released a nostalgic sigh.

“What did the boys do while their
mamm
was off boating?”

If Joanna took exception to Leah’s rather accusatory tone, she didn’t let on. “They fished from the shore and caught rainbow trout, both small and largemouth bass, walleye, and a fish called a Johnny Darter. We cleaned and fried up everything the next day for dinner.” Triumph crossed her features for the briefest moment.

Leah couldn’t stomach any more Wisconsin conversation. She rose to her feet. “I believe I’ll start the dishes, if you two don’t mind. I’m rather tired and cranky tonight, so I’d like to get them over with. Then I’ll probably read for a while and go to bed early.”

“Nothing doing.” Joanna sprang up. “I’m yammering on as though I must tell you everything in one night. You and Jonah run along—maybe take a stroll or sit in the porch swing. These dishes are mine to do, especially since my sister spoiled me while I was visiting. The closest I came to cooking a meal was peeling potatoes. High time I came back to reality.”

Leah bobbed her head in Joanna’s direction as a wave of emotion robbed her ability to speak.
What is happening to me? One minute I’m mad as a hornet, and then I’m weeping over nothing. What’s next—breaking into uncontrollable fits of hysterics until the EMTs arrive with a straitjacket?

“I should finish some paperwork in the office, but how about meeting me on the porch in an hour?” Jonah flashed his silver-blue eyes at his wife.

“Okay,” she answered weakly. “I think I’ll walk in the apple orchard until then. There’s usually a breeze through the trees at night.” Leah fled the house before anyone could try to stop her or offer to tag along. She needed time alone to think and pray. She needed to rid herself of this unchristian anger and resentment and prepare for the day when Joanna announced, “I’m selling the farm. Wisconsin, here come the Bylers!”

F
or the first time in years, Julia Miller wasn’t remotely aware of her rheumatoid arthritis. She had been too busy for days to even think about pain or stiffness. She cleaned her house from top to bottom and enlisted Henry to make sure the yard and garden were mowed and weeded. Simon moved the living room furniture several times, often replacing it exactly where it had been before. Hannah washed the windows and bedding in all rooms and had been helping her cook and bake for a week. And Julia had finally made up her mind as to where everyone would sleep during her third cup of coffee. Now, as she watched her son and husband head toward the house for lunch, she exhaled a deeply satisfied sigh.

“What’s to eat,
fraa
?” asked Simon as he entered and hung his hat on a peg by the door.

“Roast partridge with pickled snails,” she said cheerfully as she carried a pot of soup to the table. She returned to the counter for a loaf of fresh-baked bread.

“Again?” teased Henry, already washing at the sink. “Didn’t we just have that? I was hoping for leftover soup from last night’s supper.”

“In that case, I’ll change the menu.” Julia patted his cowlick as he sat down and bowed his head.

After a silent prayer, Simon held up his bowl for her to fill. “What was your final decision regarding where to put folks? Should Henry and I cover some hay bales in the loft with old quilts for our new sleeping accommodations?”

Julia winked at him. “You get to remain with me in our room,
ehemann
. But, Henry, I’d like you to move to the back porch while your brother and his family visit from New York. I pushed together the two twin beds for Matthew and Martha. Noah can sleep in between them, and if you two can bring down the crib from the attic and set it up, it will do for little Mary.”

Henry held up his bowl. “I don’t mind at all. I’ll bring in the old glider. It’ll be far cooler on the porch than upstairs in my room. Besides, I love listening to all those crickets and tree frogs while falling asleep.”

Simon snorted. “Sometimes their racket keeps me awake. What about Emma and her boys?” He dunked his bread into the soup.

“She’ll be in her old room. The second bed will be for James on the nights he can stay over. She wrote to say her sons have sleeping bags, thanks to their English grandmother, so they can sleep on the floor. I’m putting Leah in the guest room so there will be space for Jonah whenever he can leave his chores at the Byler farm.”

“His
mamm
is back from Wisconsin, ain’t it so?” Simon peered over his glasses.

“
Jah
, she’s back, but she’s busy with new cheese concoctions, according to Leah’s letter, in addition to her standard orders. Her cheese business keeps growing and growing, and Leah can only help out so much because of her pie making.”

Simon harrumphed, a skill he’d perfected. “Then Leah should stop selling pies for profit and bake only for her family…and her dear old
daed
, of course.” His eyes twinkled with amusement. “I’m sure Jonah earns enough money selling milk and beef to pay their taxes and whatnot. Building great stores of wealth only leads to man’s downfall.”

“In that case, my place in heaven is fairly assured, based on the balance of my bank account.” Henry tipped his bowl to scoop the last drops before pushing it across the table for a refill.

Simon scowled at his youngest offspring. “No one’s place is assured, son, especially not a person who would boast so recklessly.”

“
Mir leid
,” he said, apologizing. Henry’s cheeks flushed to match the bowl of fresh-picked strawberries in the center of the table.

Simon glared another moment to hone his point and then turned back to Julia. “So I can remain with my bride? Your sister isn’t moving in for the month?”

Julia ladled Henry’s bowl to the brim. “She wants to, but I’m sending her home every night. She has volunteered her guest room and Ben’s room for overnight guests on the weekend the whole district is here. Matthew might have old friends who’ll come from far ends of the county. I could put women in the front room on cots, and you can make space in the loft for men.”

Simon stroked his beard. “And Martha’s family? I’m sure her kin will arrive in droves.”

Julia furrowed her forehead “The Hostetlers live across the road. I trust they’ll open their house to overnight guests as well. More soup, Simon?”

“
Nein
, but I’ll have some of those berries with cream.”

Before she could rinse out his soup bowl, he dumped in a load of fruit. “I would have washed your bowl, but I suppose it all goes to the same place.” As she walked to the refrigerator for the cream, she heard the sound of a vehicle in the side yard. “Who can that be?” she muttered, drawing back the curtain. The pitcher nearly slipped from her hand. “Oh, goodness. Henry, stop eating! Go to the attic for that crib and set it up in your room. Do it now, before you start visiting.” Julia faced her menfolk. “They’re here! I can’t believe it, but they are here!” Heat flooded her chest as her throat swelled nearly shut.

Henry sprang from his chair and took the stairs to the second floor two at a time.

“Matthew?” asked Simon unnecessarily, pushing aside the berries.

“Matthew,” said Julia, turning back to the window in a vain attempt to rein in her emotions. Her son stepped from the taxicab looking fit and trim and infinitely more mature, even though he’d been gone less than two years. He clutched the hand of his son, Noah. Watching the little boy gaze curiously at the unfamiliar surroundings led to Julia’s undoing. Noah had been a babe in arms when his parents moved to New York. Julia left the kitchen window and hurried outdoors with her husband close behind.

“Easy, Julia, don’t break a leg,” Simon cautioned. He grabbed her arm to steady her on the steps.

Once on the gravel path, Julia ran toward the new arrivals as fast as her arthritic legs would carry her. Martha was just climbing out with her husband’s assistance. She carried a pink-wrapped bundle despite the July heat and humidity. Julia recognized the pink quilt as the one she and Mary Hostetler had made with the tender love of two faraway
grossmammi
s. “Little Mary?” asked Julia, an equally ridiculous question as Simon’s.

“None other.” Martha drew back the coverlet and handed over her sleeping daughter. “I wrapped her up because the taxi’s air-conditioning was turned high enough to chatter teeth.”

Julia accepted the baby with a face streaming with tears. Her attempt to control her emotions had failed miserably. The little girl sported flaming orange hair, which stood out all over her head in tufts of tight ringlets. It was the same color Matthew’s had been at that age. She had very long blond eyelashes lying against her round-apple cheeks as she slumbered. Her tiny button nose was pink from the sun, while her lips were pursed into a heart-shaped bow. Mary Miller was absolutely, delightfully beautiful—God’s handiwork manifest in each perfect detail.