Never Far From Home (The Miller Family 2) (36 page)

Emma reluctantly complied, eyeing the cocoa suspiciously. “How come the Styrofoam cup didn’t melt in the oven?”

“I have no idea,” Hannah answered, studying her cup also. “How did you like the Mexican food for supper? I thought the steak fajitas were quite tasty once you added all those toppings.”

Emma wrinkled her nose. “They tasted good, but they were awfully messy to eat. I took a bite and half of it shot out the other end onto my dress. The Mexicans must have to do lots of laundry.” Her attention returned to the steaming cocoa.

Hannah tried again. “Isn’t this craft fair amazing? There are so many different kinds of things for sale. It’s much bigger than I ever imagined.”

Emma turned stormy. “Some people brought mass-produced wreaths from foreign countries that they were able to sell cheaper than mine. I thought this was supposed to be for handmade crafts.” She sipped her drink, burned her tongue, and emitted a yowl similar to the cat’s when someone stepped on her tail.

Hannah pushed their two drinks aside for a moment and opted for the direct approach. “Emma, your
mamm
wanted you to come to the fair primarily for a change of scenery—to get your mind off your broken courtship. It doesn’t seem to be working. Are you still pining over James Davis?”

Emma met her eye and then glanced away. “I’m trying not to, believe me, but I can’t seem to forget him. He was the nicest
person
I’ve ever met, let alone the nicest boy!” She burst into tears.

The direct approach had been a disaster. Hannah patted Emma’s hand until her sobs subsided.

“I still love him, Aunt Hannah,” she whispered, “but please don’t tell my parents. I don’t want them to worry about me since I don’t plan to see James again. I must be content with spinsterhood and being a good aunt to Matt, Leah, and Henry’s future
kinner
, like you’ve been to me.”

Her young face was so filled with despair, Hannah willed herself not to laugh at a sixteen-year-old’s grim summation of her future. “There might still be a chance for happiness, dear, but not if you’re always hiding in your loft. You told your mother you’d go to Sunday singings. Julia said you’ve only gone to one so far.”

Emma slid her drink back and cupped her hands around the warmth. “
Jah
, that’s true. My heart hasn’t been in it.” One teardrop fell into her cocoa. “But I suppose I had better go again before
mamm
finds out how miserable I am and starts worrying.”

Hannah smiled inwardly, knowing a parent never stopped agonizing over their offspring. Before she slept tonight, Hannah would toss and turn, fretting over what Phoebe ate for supper and if Seth remembered to feed Turnip and the barn cats. She reached for her own drink. “Good idea. Try to go out as much as possible. These are the years to do so, and it will take your mind off your lonesomeness. You don’t know what God has in mind for you, Emma. Give your problems over to Him and be brave.” She took a sip of the hot chocolate. “Now tell me how you plan to prevail over the cheaply priced wreaths at tomorrow’s fair.”

Emma took a cautious sip from her cup. “Mmm, this is delicious once it cools down.” A corner of her mouth turned up. “Tomorrow, I plan to hang a poster board sign that reads: ‘Handmade Christmas Wreaths.’ I’ll make the first word huge with red letters. And since the other booth had a bunch of sourpusses, I intend to smile at every shopper who walks by.” She grinned to practice her technique.

Hannah relaxed against the chair back. “Sounds like the perfect solution. Your competition doesn’t stand a chance.”

Hannah would be pleased to know Emma didn’t have to wait until the next singing to enter back into Amish society.
Daed
announced the following Saturday that today was a cider-making frolic at a district member’s farm and they would all attend. Julia was hobbling around much better with her aluminum walker. Leah, Emma, and Henry would accompany their parents immediately after lunch. All chores were to be completed beforehand. Matthew would ride over in the buggy after finishing his shift at Macintosh Farms. He couldn’t wait to get to the cider-making party since hearing that a hayride for young people had been planned for the evening. Simon would let Matthew attend as long as he sat with the driver and not with the courting couples.

Emma tried not to think about courting couples while they loaded the last of their apples into the back of the wagon. They had already canned enough applesauce and sliced apples for pies to last the winter. Today the remainder would be pressed down to make cider. She loved a glass of cold cider with a meal or a mug of warm cider in the winter.

“This is my favorite kind of frolic,” announced Henry during the ride. He was wedged in between his two sisters in the small second row of the wagon.

“Why is that?” Emma asked. “Because apples are your favorite fruit?” She gave his suspenders a playful snap.

“No, because it’s a lot less work than a barn raising or house painting. Most of us get to stand around and just watch.”

“And drink the cider and eat plenty of goodies,” Leah added. “I’ve baked chocolate chip and peanut butter cookies. Did you make your famous Apple Betty bars when I wasn’t looking?” she asked Emma.

“No, and they are not famous. I figured we’d get our fill of apples today. I made a pan of Rice Krispies squares.”

“Joseph from Berlin will be mighty disappointed. His sister Elizabeth told me he’s fond of your Apple Betty bars,” Leah said, and then she pretended to be fascinated by the stark, empty field on her left.

“Joseph Kauffman?” Simon asked, glancing back at Emma. “He comes from a fine, hardworking family.”

When their
daed
turned his attention back to the road, Emma muttered under her breath. “You’re a tad young to be carrying gossip like that, Leah.” She pulled the lap robe up to her waist.

“It’s not gossip, sister, if the man truly enjoys your baking. And there’s nothing wrong with him paying you a compliment.” Leah tugged the robe back over her own knees.

Henry began squirming on the bench. “Could you two settle this when I’m not stuck in the middle?” He pulled the flaps of his hat down over his ears.

Leah smiled sweetly, Emma clucked her tongue, and Henry rolled his eyes. And so it went on the drive to the frolic. Luckily for Henry, the hosting family lived only forty minutes away. When the Millers turned up the lane, the yard and barn were already buzzing with activity.

“Looks like everybody in the county is here,” Julia murmured.

“Oh, good,” came from Leah.

“Oh, dear,” was Emma’s reply. But by the time they helped unload the baskets of apples, she had caught some of the infectious conviviality.

Since it took a bushel of apples to yield three gallons of cider, much work went into preparations. Apples needed to be fully ripe; windfalls made an excellent choice as long as they weren’t wormy. They discarded any heavily bruised or damaged apples and then washed, cut up, and ground the rest into applesauce consistency. Finally, they fed the mash through a large apple press to separate out the juice. The resulting sweet cider was usually dark brown in color and contained plenty of pulp. It had to be kept cold and would remain sweet and unfermented for about two weeks. If a facility filtered and pasteurized the cider, it became apple juice, which had a longer shelf life.

Their host tasted the first glass from the press, declared it too tart and stirred in castor sugar. At long last, the batch was pronounced acceptable and folks lined up for a sample. Emma accepted a glass of cider and moved away from the crowd. She found a quiet spot near the door to sip and watch without becoming part of the hubbub. She especially wanted to avoid Sarah Hostetler and Sam Yoder. Seeing those two together, laughing and talking, reminded Emma of the fourth member of their group.

But she refused to be drawn back into despair. Despite herself, Emma was having a good time at the frolic. Sometimes if you acted as though you were having fun, life started moving in that direction.

“Whew, there you are, sister.” A panting Leah joined her in the doorway with her
kapp
askew and the bottom of her hem muddy.

“
Jah
, here I am. Where have you been? Stomping around in the bog?” Emma was glad to see her sister acting like a child instead of a mini-version of
mamm
.

“A friend and I challenged two boys to a race to the pasture fence and we won.” Joy radiated from her face while her breath came in great gulps.

“Was one boy limping and did the other have a cast on his foot?” Emma asked.

“No, neither one.” Leah looked mystified. “Why would you ask that?”

“Just curious.” Emma smiled as she turned to see the other runner. It was Elizabeth Kauffman, Joseph’s sister. Her thin face was streaked with perspiration. “Hullo, Elizabeth,” Emma said.

“Hi, Emma. I’m glad you remember me from the singing. You haven’t been back since.” When Elizabeth smiled, her plain face took on unusual prettiness.

“I’ve been busy around the house, but I’ll come to another singing very soon.”

“Your sister and I are getting in line for supper. Will you sit with us? They’re having ham, hot potato salad, and plenty of cold salads.”

“All right,” Emma said. “That way I can make sure Leah takes one of my desserts to get the ball rolling.”

Leah snaked an arm around Emma’s waist, but not before she pinched her sister’s arm. “I’ll be the first guinea pig since I know they’re delicious.”

With plates of food, the three girls found space at a table far away from the buffet line. Emma had just popped a baby beet into her mouth when Leah sprang to her feet. “We forgot drinks. I’ll get us some cider.”

“I’ll help you carry them,” Elizabeth declared. Off they scurried as though every movement should be deemed a race to the pasture fence.

“Good evening, Miss Miller…eh, Emma. Mind if I join you girls for supper?”

Emma swallowed hard and gazed into the near black eyes of Joseph Kauffman. His silky hair hung almost in his eyes. He desperately needed a haircut.

“Sure, sit there,” she said, pointing to the other side of the table.

“Mind if I sit here?” he asked, gesturing to the spot beside her. “Then I won’t have to carry this all the way around. He set down his plate as a corn muffin toppled off the pile. “I’m afraid I made a pig of myself.” He stepped over the bench and squeezed in beside her.

“It’s the cool weather that makes a person hungrier.” She glanced again at his meal, amazed that someone could eat like that and remain thin.

He noticed her focus. “Anything you care to sample, Emma? You can help herself.”

She felt herself blush. “No,
danki
. I’ve taken more than enough on my plate.” She turned her attention to cutting her ham into very small pieces until the girls returned. While they ate, Leah and Elizabeth chattered about everything under the sun, from who brought the wormiest apples to who would host the next singing. Emma had begun to relax when she realized Leah was purposefully trying to draw her and Joseph into conversation.

“I don’t see a Rice Krispies square on your plate, Joseph,” Leah stated, pointing accusingly with her index finger.

“Perhaps he wishes to go home with all his teeth intact,” Emma said, as she tried to kick Leah under the table. She connected with the table leg instead.

“Oh, no,” Leah argued. “Your Rice Krispies squares aren’t too sticky. They’re always soft and crunchy. Emma makes the best desserts, but she’s too modest to admit it.” Leah directed this assertion at both of the Kauffmans.

Emma rolled her eyes and concentrated on eating. “I’ll tell you what’s really good—this ham! The glaze has plenty of brown sugar and molasses.”

“Joseph, some day you’ll have to try Emma’s Apple Betty bars. They’re loaded with brown sugar too.”

“I have had that pleasure, Leah. And I must agree they’re
wunderbaar
.”

Emma drained her cup and held it out to Leah. “Could you please get more cider? I’m blocked in and I’m still parched dry.
Danki
.” She smiled graciously.

Leah looked puzzled. “Sure, Emma,” she replied and dashed off with the empty cup. For some reason, Elizabeth jumped up to follow.

Emma released an audible sigh of relief. “I hope my younger sister isn’t making you uncomfortable. She seems bound and determined to make me look good in your eyes and has the subtlety of a rooster at dawn.” Emma stared down at her plate.

Joseph laughed without embarrassment. “I’m not the least bit uncomfortable, Emma. We’re friends, remember? We agreed to that at the singing. And Leah needn’t worry about my opinion of you. I thought highly of you the first time we met. Never let little sisters get under your skin. I seldom pay much attention to mine.” He pushed away his plate and wiped his hands on a napkin. “I’m going to take the rest. It’s too much to waste and I’m full.”

“
Danki
for not running for the door.” Emma finished her potato salad and pickled cucumbers. Her appetite was finally returning.

“Will you do me a favor?” he asked. “I want to ask this now before Miss-Buttinsky-one-and-two come back with the drinks.”