An Amish Family Reunion (42 page)

Matthew reached up to pluck some low-hanging leaves. “Land in Holmes County is growing more dear each year. That’s why I put up all those fliers for you to drum up more business.”

“You sure did a lot of salesmanship at the reunion, trying to sell my services to just about anybody who crossed your path. I don’t know where you learned conversation savvy. I get tongue-tied so easily.”

“It develops over time from talking to folks. You usually only talk to those who neigh or whinny in response.”

“That’s why I’ll be living with
mamm
and
daed
for a long time to come.” Henry threw his head back with a belly laugh.

Matthew, however, sobered. “Dad’s glad you’re here and not planning on going anywhere. He’s slowing down. I’ve watched him this past month, and he’s not as spry as he used to be.” The twin Morgans gingerly crossed the shallow creek bed as though afraid to get their hooves wet. “Git up there.” Matthew applied his heels lightly to the horse’s flanks and he trotted up the other bank.

“I told Rebekah that if she’ll marry me, I’ll gladly build her a little house on the property.” Henry wiped a bead of sweat away with his sleeve as they paused on the next rise.

Matthew stared, surprised about his brother’s candor. “What did she say?”

“Of course I’ll marry you, Henry Miller. You’re the sweetest man in Holmes County.” He sounded incredibly like the honey-tongued Miss Glick. Both men chuckled merrily.

“You probably are.” Their laughter turned to louder guffaws.

“Then she said she saw no need for me to build a house when
mamm
and
daed
have all those rooms and it was just the two of them.”

“Wow, that surprises me.” Matthew would have thought the lovely Rebekah the type who would insist upon her own four-bedroom abode.

“Me too.” Henry swept off his hat and resettled it atop his head. “But, hey, this saves me the work of building a house.”

“Don’t get too excited. You can always help me build mine.” They left the dusty path and entered the sheep pasture through the aluminum gate, which Henry latched behind them.

“I’ll gladly help with your house, but since it’s yours, I can come home when I’m tired of pounding nails and do something different.”

“We’ll hold a work frolic to get the main walls and roof on. I’d still love to put it up this year, maybe in November before the snow flies. Then I can work on the interior over the winter months when there’s not much else to do.”

“You’re doing a lot of thinking and figuring. Your brain must be mighty worn out.” Henry kicked his Morgan’s flanks to prod her into a faster pace.

Matthew’s horse took off too. Neither slowed down until they had reached the top of the high pasture. Miller land—Seth and Simon’s—spread out in both directions for as far as one could see. “This is the prettiest spot on the farm. How would you like a little house up here with this view?”

Henry shielded his eyes and gazed around, despite having seen the view his entire life. “Sure is nice, but I wouldn’t want a driveway this long in winter.”

“You make a good point. And
daed
thinks I’m the practical one.” He pulled the apples from his pocket and began tossing them to old Bess one by one.

Henry merely smiled, content with himself.

“What do you say we put our heads together on a regular basis?” Matthew turned to face him.

Henry’s face lit up. “You offering what I think you’re offering?”

“We partner up in the horse-training business. You’d be the main man. I don’t want to take anything away from you.”

“We don’t need a main man. We could be equal partners! Oh, Matty. That’s been my dream, but I never thought it would happen now that you’ve worked for the racing industry and that fancy saddlebred stable. I say
jah
!”

“I might have to work a couple days a week somewhere else. I’m hoping Mr. Mac might take me back, but just part-time. I don’t want to be away from my family. I’ve had enough of that to last a lifetime.” He stuck out his hand to seal the deal.

Henry grabbed the hand, but instead of shaking he pulled his brother into a hug…and right off his horse. Both men tumbled into the tall grass with snorts of laughter. The Morgans calmly wandered away to nibble tasty growth elsewhere.

“You would think two fancy trainers would be able to stay astride a horse!” The taunting voice drifted over the meadow from an unseen witness.

Henry jumped up and then hauled Matthew to his feet. They spotted their
mamm
on the next hillock, surrounded by four little
kinner
.

Matthew cupped his hands around his mouth. “We were trying out a special trick.”

“The trick will be for
you
not to miss your bus, young man. We’re heading down for breakfast.”

The men mounted almost as easily as they had fallen off the Morgans and rode back to the house without pausing. They would have plenty of time to iron out details and make their plans for their partnership. Right now, it was a Miller brother favorite—time to eat.

“Phoebe!”

Her mother’s voice from above finally pierced her consciousness. “I’m down here, in the cellar.”

First her feet and then the rest of Hannah appeared on the stairs. “What are you still doing down here?” She stepped off the bottom rung.

“You told me to clean the basement, so that’s what I’m doing.” Phoebe tucked a sweated lock of hair beneath her
kapp
.

Hannah peered around the room with hands on hips. “Good grief. I meant dust the metal shelves so we can bring down the rest of the canned jars. There’s not a cobweb in sight. This cellar has never looked so nice.” Her focus fell on Phoebe. “What’s come over you?”

“Nothing. I just wanted to do a good job on my chores so nothing stands in my way of attending Saturday’s singing. There’ll be a hayride afterward.” Phoebe resumed lining up pickle jars with meticulous precision.

“I take it Eli Riehl plans to attend this event?” teased Hannah.

“I do believe he might have mentioned as much at preaching.”

“Well, there’s one chore you’ve neglected—getting the mail.”

She wheeled around. “I’ll stop and do it right now,
mamm
.”

“No need, I already did.” Hannah paused halfway up the steps. “But you might want to interrupt artistically arranging canned vegetables to read the letter that came for you.” Her words floated down, disembodied, because Hannah had already disappeared. “Some odd-sounding publishing house wrote to you—New Start Publishing or Great Beginnings or something like that.”

Phoebe recognized her mother’s teasing voice, but it took several moments before their meaning registered. Then she flew upstairs without her feet touching the treads. In the center of the table sat the letter. She tore it open and quickly scanned the contents. Then she slid into a chair to read more carefully, one word at a time, so there would be no misunderstanding. Slumping forward, she closed her eyes and thanked the One responsible for all life’s pivotal moments. “Thank You, Lord,” she whispered.

“What is it, sweet girl?” asked Hannah.

Phoebe had to wait for her composure to return. “They want to publish Eli’s story and my illustrations. They want to make them into a gift book, ready by next Easter.” Her voice cracked, so she sucked in a deep gulp of air. “Oh,
mamm
,” she continued. “I’m going to be a children’s book illustrator.” Then she couldn’t hold back the torrent of emotion any longer. Phoebe cried like a baby when her diaper had been wet, and like a little girl when her mother had died, and now as a young woman whose first real dream was about to come true.

“I’m so very happy for you,” murmured Hannah.

When Phoebe turned around, she saw that her mother was crying too. She rose to her feet and ran for an enveloping hug. “I can’t wait to tell Eli. I think he’ll be pleased. How will I ever last until Saturday with this news?”

“Why wait? Show him the letter now. News like this doesn’t come every day.” Hannah pulled away, wiped her face, and started dicing a bunch of celery.

Phoebe remained in place, dumbfounded. “I can’t take the pony cart to the Riehls’. I would never get home before dark.”

Hannah attacked another stalk with her paring knife. “Tell him to meet you halfway at the library, but don’t tell him why.”

“How could I do that? We don’t have a phone.” For some reason, she felt mighty stupid for an about-to-be-published person.

Hannah glanced up from chopping. “Run next door and ask to use Mrs. Lee’s. The Riehls have a business line for their hams. Eli might even be the one to answer. We’re allowed to make emergency phone calls, and I’d say this is an emergency.”

“
Danki
,” Phoebe managed to say despite the tears that had begun anew.

“Then come back and take a quick shower before you go because you’re a mess. I’ll have Ben hitch up the horse.”

Within an hour, smelling sweet as lilacs thanks to scented body wash and powder, Phoebe was on her way to Winesburg. Within two and a half hours, she sat across from Eli at their private table in their favorite place on earth.

It took him several minutes to read the relatively short letter because he kept blinking his eyes.

Phoebe sat very still, giving him time to digest the news, as she had needed.

Finally, in a bizarre accent he spoke. “This is a rather interesting turn of events, isn’t it, Miss Miller?”

Then he leaped to his feet and all pandemonium broke out. Eli and Phoebe jumped up and down, shouting and laughing, as Amish people were never meant to. Fortunately, the Winesburg Library had no other patrons. Mrs. Carter soon joined them, clapping and hurrahing and behaving in such un-librarian fashion that it was a wonder the library didn’t lose its license.

When everyone settled down, Mrs. Carter returned to her computer monitor and the two Plain folk restored their modest demeanor. “I know you’re busy with the farm,” Phoebe said. “So I’ll try to do as much as I can with the edits or whatever they’re called to the story. I’ll set up an e-mail account here at the library and take responsibility. I’m so proud of you for stepping up to help your family as well as you have.”

His forehead wrinkled in puzzlement. “You didn’t think being a good farmer was something I had in me? Because I assure you, I’ve always been part of the reason Riehl honey-glazed hams are best in the county.”

Phoebe flushed with shame. “Oh, no, I didn’t mean that. I always knew you’d make a great pig farmer.”

“All right, then.” He tugged his cuffs down. “I don’t want you to think I’m just a storytelling windbag, filled with nothing but words and hot air.”

She batted her eyelashes. “Oh, no, Eli. I’ve seen you in action with Miss Priss, standing in the worst of it, up to your ankles.”

He smiled in his long, slow fashion, something she hadn’t seen in a while. “Well, that’s better. And I have some good news myself, sweet peach. Although I’d be hard-pressed to top your bombshell.”

She leaned closer and batted her lashes once more. “Give it a shot.”

“Not one, but two of my sisters have announced their engagements.”

“Is Rose one of them? Give her my best wishes.”

“She is, and both of their husbands-to-be want to farm, but neither have any land.” His eyes practically danced in his face. “Alas, I said. How could this conundrum be solved?” Eli pressed his index finger to his lips. “So I suggested both men build their homes at the Riehl farm and join the business!”