Never Far From Home (The Miller Family 2) (16 page)

“You are supposed to be Emma’s,” he muttered. “And the boys should be moving you around the yard so you don’t overgraze an area down to bare dirt. Come along, Curly.” Simon led the goat around to the back of the house where the grass was rather long. He studied the length of rope and tied her to a tree just beyond reach of Julia’s kitchen garden and the flower beds. “Eat grass!” he ordered.

Curly cocked her head to assess him, her jaws slowly grinding lunch into a watery green stew. Backing away slowly, he heard the sound of buggy wheels in the driveway. Simon didn’t pause to shield his eyes until he was well past Curly’s reach.

“Seth,” he called. “You’re a sight for sore eyes!” He hadn’t seen his brother since the last preaching service and hadn’t been able to share a word because all the men had been in a dither. Seth had been part of that fracas, but at least he hadn’t been the leader.

Seth jumped down from his open buggy and tied his mare to the hitching post. “
Gut nachmittag
, Simon.”

“Care to put her in the pasture?” Simon asked. “Why not stay for lunch? Julia and Leah are trying a new tuna fish casserole recipe. How dangerous can that be?” He laughed at his joke as Seth joined him near the flower beds.

“No,
danki
just the same. I get my fair share of cooking experiments in my own kitchen.” He grinned like a man still happily discovering the mysteries of being a newlywed.

Seth looked over Simon’s hayfield, where the tall grass was rippling in the warm breeze like a green river. “Ready to be cut,
jah
?”

“It is. I’m sharpening my blades today and will start cutting tomorrow if the dry weather holds. How ’bout yours?”

Seth crossed his muscular arms over his chest. “I won’t be cutting a second crop of hay. I’ve still got plenty of bales under plastic from my first crop back in April.”

Simon stared with confusion. “No second crop? What happens if we get a drought and your pasture grass dies back? What will you feed your livestock then…some of Hannah’s cooking experiments?” His jest didn’t sound that funny, so he resumed his sober expression. “What
did
you plant your hayfield in?”

“All corn—everything but Hannah’s garden and the sheep and cow pastures.”

Simon pulled off his hat and slapped it against his leg. “Just like that band of hotheads? I thought you were smarter than to fall in with that lot.”

“I guess you overestimated my intellect,
bruder
, because I think it’s a good idea, same as others in the district.” He sounded very sure of himself.

“You’re taking a big chance, a
gamble
.” Simon imbued the word with onerous emphasis. “Something the Bible and our
Ordnung
caution us against.”

Seth met his eye and then gazed off toward the horizon. A small bird seemed to be following and intimidating a red-tailed hawk in flight. “Scripture says nothing against planting corn.”

Simon’s back stiffened.
First my daughter now my brother telling me my business?
“You know exactly what I mean. You’re engaging in speculation, hoping to make a great deal of profit.”

Seth shifted his weight, planting both feet as though preparing for some kind of standoff. “Have you noticed what they’re paying for corn at the grain elevator in Mount Eaton? Even higher prices if you’re willing to take the crop to New Philadelphia to sell.”

“Speculation, I tell you.” Simon planted his boot heels in the grass. “There’s no guarantee those prices will hold until fall.”

“They’re buying up all the available corn to manufacture ethanol,” Seth said.

“According to what I read in the
Daily Journal
, it’s still experimental. They don’t know if these ethanol plants they’re building can turn corn into fuel any cheaper than refineries can process fossil oil.”

Seth pulled on his beard and appeared to be considering this. At least his brother would listen to reason, not like some of the hotheads.

“What you’re saying is true. I read the same article myself, but I think we have no choice but to take the chance. And I would like you to join us. As deacon, you are respected—your opinion holds high authority. The county agent says there’s more land available for lease in the southern part of the county. It’s not too late to get in another crop of hybrid to harvest in October.”

“Have you lost your mind?”

Seth straightened to his full impressive height. “Do you know how little is in our district’s community fund?” he shot back. “I talked to the bishop about the balance. Several buggy accidents, some farming mishaps, the road usage fees, a couple of house fires—the coffers are nearly depleted.” He shook his head sadly.

Simon found his back growing more painful by the minute. “The bishop shouldn’t have discussed this with you. You’re not a deacon or an elder.” His tone sounded harsh and petulant.

“I asked him straight out and he gave me a truthful answer. That’s all. I don’t want to overstep my bounds, Simon, but Julia will need surgery sooner or later. There’s no denying it. Do you know how much
that
will cost?”

The fight went out of Simon at the mention of his beloved wife’s name. “Let’s go sit in the shade.” He shook his head and walked toward the barn with Seth on his heels. A rickety table and pair of chairs were under the barn’s eaves—a good spot to sit and enjoy lunch in the fresh air. Simon sat down heavily and leaned his back against the wall. Seth sat too, resting his large hands on his knees.

“
Ach
,” Simon said. “I’ve been afraid to ask the doctor what it’ll cost. I suppose I’ve been no better than a foolish goose burying its head and thinking the coyote can no longer see it.”

Seth put a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “You’re no goose. Just a man facing a difficult situation…one that has no easy answer. How is Julia?”

Simon dropped his chin to his chest. “The pain is getting worse. The medications and the therapies that once worked well no longer bring relief. She is suffering, Seth, and I am helpless to stop the pain. It’s time we travel again to Canton to see that specialist.”

Seth tightened his grip. “The money from selling this corn in the fall can rebuild our medical fund. It will go a long way toward paying her hospital bills. Join in with us. Give us your support.”

Simon felt suddenly like a very old man. “I cannot. I am sorry. The Bible tells us, ‘Plant your seeds in the morning and keep busy all afternoon, for you don’t know if profit will come from one activity or another—or maybe both.’ Let’s leave it up to God. I appreciate what you’re trying to do for Julia, but I can’t in good conscience join in this.” He struggled to his feet as his brother’s hand dropped away. “Come in to lunch and sample Leah’s tuna casserole. It might be a welcome surprise after all.”

“No,
danki
. I shall go home and await my fate at Hannah’s hands.” Seth stood then and walked toward his buggy with far less confidence and pep than he possessed upon arrival.

This would be a summer of changes…a time of trials and tests by the Lord. Simon would pray nightly that he would be up to the challenge.

July

It had been a full month since the canoe trip. Emma had replayed every detail in her mind over and over. She’d heard not a word from James, even though she and Aunt Hannah had stopped at A Stitch in Time in Sugar Creek, but at least her father had dropped the subject of the English sheep farmer.

Since that night Simon had been patient and gentle as though he regretted losing his temper.
Mamm
still watched her like an eagle, vigilant that her fledging didn’t fall from the nest. Julia hovered around the kitchen, even though Emma and Leah did the cooking and baking these days. Julia’s hands had become painfully crippled with rheumatoid arthritis. To be truthful, Leah did most of the kitchen chores without complaint, allowing Emma time in her loft. Plenty of wool still remained from the last shearing to spin, while progress on the new loom was slow but steady. She had plenty to keep busy with. Mrs. Dunn had sold all the consignment wreaths, and the money Emma had received from them allowed her to pay off the balance on her new loom.

Whenever Emma got a chance, she would wander through the woods between their farm and Uncle Seth’s with clippers and a burlap sack over her shoulder. Wild grapevines for new wreaths grew unceasingly in the plentiful July sunshine. On these solitary walks on misty mornings or in fading daylight after supper, her thoughts turned to a suntanned boy with sparkling eyes and a soft voice. Remembering his smile lifted her heart into the clouds. His laughter, his polite manners, his respect for all God’s creation helped her to forget he wasn’t Amish.

How she wanted to see him again. Wasn’t this her
Rumschpringe
? This was her time to discover what she wanted and who she was, but four weeks had passed without a single word from him. Her fear of disappointing her parents apparently had been premature.

“Emma, Emma!”

She heard her brother’s voice but saw nothing but an empty path through the dense trees. Suddenly, Matthew galloped toward her on their newest colt. He rode bareback with only a bit, bridle, and reins, gripping the horse with his long legs. “I’ve been looking for you!”

“You’ve lost your hat,” she said, stepping away from the horse’s prancing hooves.

“
Jah,
it flew off a while back. I was pretending a pack of wild boars was chasing me and I needed to get away.” He slipped smoothly from the back of the colt to the ground. He was becoming an adept horseman.

She glanced down the path. “Not a single wild boar in sight. I think you’ve outrun them.”

“Good, I’ll look for my hat on the way back. I was anxious to find you.” He dug into his boot and pulled out a letter. It had been folded over several times.

Emma’s heart skipped several beats upon spotting the envelope’s distinctive handwriting.

Matthew grinned his funny, lopsided smile. “I saw your English beau down by the road when I was getting the mail. He was about to put this in our mailbox.”

“He is my friend, not my beau,” she corrected, stretching a hand out to take it.

But Matthew held the letter high, beyond her reach. “Why the personal delivery? Can’t the guy afford a stamp?”

“He was probably driving by, that’s all. Now hand it over, you imp.” She lunged for the letter again, but Matthew was far quicker.

“Our farm isn’t on the way to anywhere,” he laughed, waving the envelope above her head.

Emma stomped her booted foot. “Matthew Miller, you give that to me or I’m telling
daed
.”

“Oh, I doubt you’ll tell Pa. But someday I might need help from a big sister, so here you go.” He lowered it down to nose height, and she snatched it without hesitation.

“
Danki
.” She turned her back to him before tearing it open with trembling fingers.

Matthew leaned over her shoulder. “Care to read it aloud?”

Emma clutched it to her chest. “On your way! Go find your hat. A woman needs some privacy.”

“You’re hardly a woman, Emma. You’re still just a plain ol’ girl, but I’ll leave you alone. He probably wants to talk about his dumb sheep anyway.” Without benefit of a saddle horn, he boosted himself up onto the colt’s back and swung over his leg with amazing agility. “See you at supper,” he called. With a tiny kick, boy and beast took off down the trail.

Her hands shook as she removed the single sheet of paper and began to read:

Dear Emma,

It is my fondest hope that absence has made your heart fonder for me. I have missed you, and I think about you each time I see the sweet face of one of my new merinos.

A sheep? He thinks I look like a sheep?
Emma didn’t know what to make of this letter so far! From high overhead, the caw of a crow added insult to her injury. Dismissing the odd compliment, she continued to read:

A group of people are going horseback riding this Saturday at the stable in Berlin. They’ll provide a picnic lunch to eat along the way. Sam Yoder and Sarah Hostetler are going, but tell your dad it’s not just for courting couples. Plenty of other folk will be there. Please understand, I am officially asking you to be my date.

Eagerly (and hopefully) waiting for Saturday,

James

Emma clutched the paper to the spot she believed her heart to be and made a frightening decision. She would go on the trail ride with her friends, even if it meant telling her parents a little white lie.