The Way to a Man's Heart (The Miller Family 3) (21 page)

Leah focused on the barn and tried to locate Matthew among the workers. Instead she spotted Daniel, Steven, and John, and they seemed to have noticed her too. “Oh, dear,” she murmured.

“What’s wrong?” Julia asked with growing alarm. She craned her neck and bobbed her head back and forth.

“Nothing,
mamm.
I just remembered something I forgot at the diner.” Hopefully, her small white lie would be forgiven, because she didn’t want to explain her three frequent customers.

“Speaking of the diner, your
daed
is taking me to lunch there next Wednesday. He has business in town, and we reckon you’ve worked out the kinks by now.” She winked impishly.

Leah grinned. “I’ll fix something
extra
special for the daily special. And bake Peach Parfait Supreme and Chocolate Mousse Cream pies. I’ve received so many compliments on them.” Leah settled down on the quilt and stretched out her legs. “Everyone just loves my pies,
mamm.
We have customers who come in for nothing but pie and coffee and then buy a whole pie to take home whenever we have some to spare. Even the Winesburg grocery orders more than I can bake. There aren’t enough hours in the day. Now that our peaches are ripe, I won’t have to buy them from the produce hauler. And I’ll start making plenty of profits.”

Leah glanced up to find Julia staring at her. And she wasn’t smiling.

“Is that why you work at the restaurant—to grow a big fat head from people’s praise and flattery?” Julia asked. “I thought you simply wanted to try working before you settled down and got married. I didn’t know you were looking for ways to feel more superior than others.” Her soft tone conveyed barbed words that felt like fence wire.

Leah felt heat rush to her face as her palms began to sweat. Never before had anyone spoken to her like this. Perhaps to independent, willful Emma, but never her.

“I’m sorry,
mamm.
I guess I am talking big, but I really do love my work, even without the compliments.” Leah bit down on her lower lip as her eyes filled with tears.

Julia shook her head. “The Good Book is filled with stories of those who start out doing good and then run off track the minute they become successful. Read the Old Testament for stories about people whose heads grew too big. Ask the Lord to guide you, and He will.” Julia reached over to pat her daughter’s hand. “Enough about that. Nobody grows up without making mistakes, I daresay. We adults often fall far short of how the Savior taught us to live too.” She glanced back at the barn. “Matthew is coming down the ladder. Why don’t you take him a drink? I’m going back to sit with the women.”

“All right,” Leah said, glad for the diversion. She fetched a paper cup of tea and a bottle of cold water and then found Matthew standing near the barn’s foundation. He was wiping his brow with a handkerchief as she approached.

“Ach,
you’re a sight for sore eyes. I’m parched dry.” He finished the tea in one long swallow and then opened the bottle of water to sip.

“Hi, Leah!” A voice shouted from overhead.

She shielded her eyes from the glare and peered up at Daniel. The man was waving energetically.

“One of your secret admirers?” asked Matthew.

“What do you mean?” Leah snapped, growing wary.

“I heard you had a swarm of them at the barrel races, all trying to impress you with their bad riding.” He held the cold water bottle to his forehead.

“Only a few immature boys acting silly. They sure weren’t very secret.” She crossed her arms and tried not to look toward the rafters.

“That’s what we tend to do at times when we’ve got our eye on somebody.” He drank down half the water. “I once called ‘Hi, Martha’ loud enough at a singing to be heard in the next county.”

“Can we change the subject, please?” she asked. “Why the need for a new barn?” She did her best to ignore the fact John was now waving at her. “I don’t see anything singed or charred like we had in our poor yard after the fire.”

“Nah, no fire. Their barn was old and full of dry-rot. They decided to take it down before it fell down. I don’t reckon the cows would have appreciated that too much. They plan to use some of the dismantled materials for inside partitions, but nothing load-bearing.”

“Hullo, Miss Miller!” A voice boomed. “What do you think about—”

As Leah turned her gaze skyward, she heard a sudden shout and then saw Steven sliding down the roof. Along with three other men, he had been lifting sheets of plywood to nail in succession over the roof rafters. If his claw hammer hadn’t caught on something during his slide, he might have fallen off the roof completely, a drop of at least twenty-five feet.

“Oh, my goodness!” she exclaimed while Matthew ran to the ladder. By the time he scrambled up to where Steven had been hanging precariously, several other men had already pulled him to safety. Once back on the scaffolding, Leah watched the foreman wag his finger at Steven, but his words were indiscernible down below.

With the accident narrowly averted, one by one the spectators returned their focus to ground level…and several focused on her. Some glared outright as though she were somehow responsible for the close call. For the second time in ten minutes, Leah’s face flushed to an angry shade of red. As Steven shakily descended the ladder, she turned on her heels and ran. She had to get away from finger-pointing people, from young men determined to make fools of themselves, and from her own guilty heart. She had encouraged them to a certain extent. She’d laughed at their jokes, blushed at their compliments, and had returned almost as many surreptitious glances as she received.

She didn’t stop running until she reached the stand of pines separating the yard from croplands. Once she felt thick pine needles beneath her feet, she sank down into a heap and buried her face in her skirt. Tears were her first response, followed by prayers to be delivered from her own weakness, and finally hope rose from deep within. Would the man she truly favored show up?

Didn’t Jonah have a knack for turning up when least expected?

She prayed he’d witnessed her escape from the construction site and then trailed her to see what was wrong. He might offer to drive her home in his buggy, and this time she wouldn’t sit mutely like a ninny. She would tell him about Steven’s close call and then turn the conversation to him. He could talk about cheese-making or about the different varieties his mother made. Maybe he could suggest new products to try in her baking. And maybe she would find enough courage to ask about his falling away from his faith.

She could offer help or consolation. And she would stop being so hopelessly self-involved.

But Jonah Byler made no afternoon appearance.

After her tears dried on her cheeks, and her red face returned to its normal paleness, Leah shook pine needles from her clothes and crept back to the house. She busied herself by heating things up in the kitchen and carrying them to the chow tent. At least when she was surrounded by food she stood on familiar ground.

Julia folded up her lawn chair and Leah’s quilt and went back to sit with the other women. She sent her daughter away so she wouldn’t keep beating her point into the ground. Leah wasn’t at all argumentative, and Julia knew that if she harped too much, Leah would retreat into her shell. A mother needed to maintain communication with a teenage daughter, whether officially on
Rumschpringe
or not.

The women had moved their chairs under the shaded canopy near the lunch tent. The younger matrons were busy refilling food tables because the workers ate in shifts, not all at once. The elder women would be called to help when needed.

From her vantage point she had watched Leah deliver cold drinks to Matthew and remain to chat. With horror she’d seen a young man lose his balance while waving and slide down the plywood. If not for God’s mercy and the quick reactions of his crew, he would be on his way to the hospital emergency room instead of catching his breath on the scaffold.

The object of his enthusiasm had been Leah. “Who was that young man who almost fell from the roof?” Julia asked the woman beside her. She only knew her casually because she belonged to a different district.

“His name’s Steven Fisher. His family goes to the same services we do. He is a good boy.” Her tone held no vacillation.

“He had better mind what he’s doing. He could have fallen to the ground,” Julia said, rubbing the backs of her hands. It probably would rain tonight, based on her arthritis.

“That’s your gal he was waving to, no?”

“Jah,
that’s Leah, my younger daughter. And my boy Matthew, who was standing with her.”

“That was my son, John, who was trying to get her attention earlier.

Julia uttered no words, merely a grunt of acknowledgment.

“And his friend Daniel, who was also waving up a fuss.” Her comment seemed to hang in the humid summer air as though waiting for Julia to respond.

Julia failed to see how the actions of three boys could be construed as Leah’s fault.
“Jah,
they all better keep their minds on what they’re doing. A barn raising is no place for shenanigans.” Julia hoped the topic was finished.

“At least your gal went running off so the boys could concentrate on their work.”

Julia chewed on the inside of her cheek.

“Is she the ‘Leah’ from Leah’s Home Cooking, that new diner in town?”

“Jah,
but it is April Lambright’s business. Leah does most of the cooking and helps serve.” For a moment, Julia contemplated moving her chair to the other end of the row, but she knew how rude that would look.

“I never ate there myself, but my son uses any excuse to go to town and stop in.
Leah’s meatloaf, Leah’s baked fish, Leah’s chicken salad
—you’d think the boy never ate those same foods in his own kitchen. And the way he goes on and on about her pies.” The woman clucked her tongue in disapproval.

Julia silently counted to five before replying. “I suppose a young man of your son’s age loves a change of scenery in town. The diner is still a new attraction—the novelty will wear off in time. My Leah has always loved to cook and bake. She goes the extra mile with her recipes. She surely didn’t learn that from me.” Julia released her breath through her nostrils, feeling confident her reply had been as Christian as humanly possible.

It was the other woman’s turn to grunt. “Has your daughter made up her mind which boy she wants to court yet?”

Julia turned in her chair with her mouth agape. Amish parents rarely discussed their
kinner’s
courting. It usually remained a big secret until an engagement was announced. She shut her mouth with a click and then said, “She seldom goes to Sunday singings yet. She’s usually too tired after her busy week. I don’t think she’s courting anybody.” Julia hoped her crisp tone would lay the matter to rest.

The woman stretched her neck and arched her back, reminding Julia of a barnyard goose. Then she turned in her chair to meet Julia’s gaze. “Some of the women with daughters in my district think your girl should release the fish back to the pond that she doesn’t mean to fry up in her skillet.”

Julia was rendered speechless while she pondered this odd analogy. Then she said in a low tone, “If you have no further parental advice for me, I’ll go see if I’m needed in the lunch tent.” She rose to her feet and walked off as her temper flared. Fortunately—or not—no snappy comebacks occurred to her until well away from the meddlesome woman. But it was just as well, because James 1:26 came to mind: “If you claim to be religious but don’t control your tongue, you are fooling yourself, and your religion is worthless.”

Julia busied herself at the buffet line, stirring roasters and filling plates while figuring out what to do next. She noticed her daughter marching to and fro from the house and could tell by her downcast face all was not well. But one thing was certain: She would discuss this with Simon tonight before bed. It was far better for him to hear the news from his wife than from another father standing around the grain elevator. Julia knew that most men liked to gossip almost as much as women and needed to be reminded of what the Good Book had to say on the matter.