The Way to a Man's Heart (The Miller Family 3) (32 page)

Holmes County is especially beautiful in October when the hills are ablaze with yellow, gold, and red. Emma had loved walking to the pond on her family’s farm, where it seemed that every tree imaginable grew. Not the farm pond that provided water for the livestock, but the beaver pond on the way to Aunt Hannah’s. Few brave souls ventured down that path because snakes, insects, and even an occasional fox or coyote prowled the lowland bog. Emma, however, loved the peace and quiet and had gone there often.

Now that she lived at Hollyhock Farms, it was harder to find solitude when the constant activity of the house grew tiresome. Emma had found one such oasis the summer before and she headed in that direction after finishing the supper dishes. Jamie had hurried through the evening meal, not savoring the fresh herbs she’d added to the stew or her home-baked bread. He’d buzzed a kiss across her lips and ran out the door as though his pants were on fire. She’d hoped to linger over coffee and pie with him. Emma had a lot weighing on her heart, and only Jamie could lift her spirits…he and her Bible.

Because the former was gone, Emma headed to the stand of pine trees flanking the northern pastures. She carried her Bible, water bottle, bug spray, and a flashlight in case she stayed too long. Darkness fell this time of year soon after the sun slipped below the horizon. No more long periods of dusk while the land was bathed in wavering light and shadows.

Last summer Jamie had fashioned a bench from a wide plank set between two sawed-off stumps. The trunk of a gnarly cedar tree provided her backrest. As Emma hiked through the sheep pasture toward the pines, her mood vastly improved. Seeing the lambs frolicking or nursing always made her feel better. Lately, it seemed sheep were the only creatures she could get along with. First, she’d picked a nasty argument with Mrs. Davis. Although she’d tagged along to the outreach program at the ladies’ jail, Emma’s heart hadn’t been in it. She’d remained meek and nearly mute—not much help with saving souls. To make amends, she participated in mission assistance for an afternoon, sewing up cloth diapers from cotton donated by the underwear plant.

Her hateful words to Lily hadn’t been so easily remedied. Lily had finished her laundry at night and left before Emma came in from morning chores. Although Emma had sent a note of apology to her apartment on campus, she’d heard nary a word since. And she hadn’t been able to relate the incident to Jamie, even though she thought he would know how to smooth his sister’s ruffled feathers. Disagreements like this happened in families, especially when women possessed strong opinions. This argument was better off forgotten. But why did Lily think her view was superior to Emma’s? Book learning and college lectures don’t necessarily give a person common sense. Although Lily’s compassion was commendable, Emma still thought dog replacement parts were an unnatural, foolish waste of money.

Once she reached her refuge, Emma stretched out on the log bench and stared skyward. Patches of blue sky peeked between the tall trees. Listening to the soothing sounds of birds and insects, she felt herself relax for the first time in weeks. Closing her eyes, Emma daydreamed of a small house sitting high on a ridge similar to the one she was on. Here she and Jamie could spend hours together at the end of the day, far from the Hollyhock commotion. She walked slowly through the rooms of her imaginary home, touching the delicate white curtains and smelling the bread baking in the oven, while a simmering pot of herb potpourri cast off a wonderful scent. She could hear the laughter of her children in the front room. Two, no, three little girls played on the rug with their faceless dolls and stuffed brown bears. Jamie came in after a hard day, tired but joyous to spend time with his little family. Oddly, droplets of water began to fall on her face as Emma was chopping vegetables for dinner. How could it be raining inside her kitchen?

Emma bolted upright as the few droplets turned into a steady drizzle. It only took her a moment to realize she’d fallen asleep in the tranquil forest. She glanced around in the thick gloom to orient herself. She might have her Bible, water bottle, and bug spray, but she had no umbrella. The woods were shrouded in near total darkness as she felt the ground for her flashlight. Forest sounds crept closer as inhabitants grew curious about the intruder. Once her hand touched hard metal among the pine needles, Emma grabbed the flashlight, switched it on, and scrambled to her feet. She feared no animal that roamed these woods but nevertheless ran pell-mell down the path with her Bible clutched to her chest.

Jamie must be sick with worry. No doubt he arrived home some time ago and had started looking for her. She’d told no one where she was going. She hoped the Davises hadn’t formed a search party for a woman silly enough to fall asleep in the woods. As Emma crossed the sheep pasture, the drizzle escalated to a downpour. Spotting one of the many equipment barns, Emma remembered that umbrellas were often kept inside the door for occasions like this. Still far from the house, she headed toward the barn, hoping to prevent a total drenching. But as she slipped inside the side entrance the electric door clanged, rattled, and began to lift from one of those electronic devices.

“Oh, good,” she whispered, wiping her face and hands on her apron. Whoever had borrowed Kevin Davis’ truck could drive her up to the house. But no groom or horse trainer stepped out of the truck cab. Instead, it was the love of her life, James Davis Jr. He was dressed in Plain garb, including his black felt hat, but the keys to his former shiny pickup dangled from his fingers. As the electric door squeaked to a close, he walked toward the side entrance and almost ran into her in the dark.

“Emma! What are you doing in here?” he asked. Jamie reached for the light switch and soon fluorescent tubes illuminated her soggy state. “What happened?”

“I went to my favorite reading spot in the pines and fell asleep on the bench you made. Then the rain started or I might have…” She stomped her booted foot. “Never mind about me! Where have you been? Why were you driving your
bruder’s
truck? Have all the horses here at Hollyhock turned up lame?”

James’ expression morphed from shock to concern to sheepish embarrassment. “Ah, Emma, my father sent me on an errand to Canton. Someone had to deliver bills of sale and get signatures tonight for six horses we sold. There was no one else to do it.” He jammed his hands down into his back pockets and gazed at the floor.

Emma, quite uncomfortable in damp clothes, felt anger build like a brushfire. “You have a buggy and several
race
horses you could have hitched up.”

James lifted his chin to meet her gaze. “I met the owner at his office downtown. I couldn’t very well take my horse into the city. I promise you, there wasn’t anyone else. Not anybody who could be trusted anyway. Please don’t be angry with me.”

“We both agreed to make changes, Jamie, hard changes. You know I’m not big on outreach work, yet I go with your
mamm.
And the first time life gets a bit hard to manage, you sneak off in Kevin’s truck like you never made the commitment.”

“The first time—” He stopped short and began again. “Emma, you’re not being reasonable. You know my commitment to our new church is just as—”

But Emma was no longer listening. Her face had crumpled with misery and before he could stop her, she ran from the equipment barn, out into the dark night and pouring rain.

Late October

Leah refused to look at the calendar on the wall. It only served to remind her that several weeks had passed since her reconciliation hayride with Jonah. They had snuggled close during the ride back to the Hostetler barn and then enjoyed mugs of hot chocolate around the campfire. He’d found a bowl of tiny marshmallows that sweetened up the rich cocoa. They hadn’t argued or even disagreed on a single topic. Wasn’t that a sign they were meant for each other? Her mother had advised, “You surely don’t want to spend a lifetime with someone you can’t be with for a few hours without arguing.”

He’d taken her home afterward and talked of plans to expand his milking parlor during the winter. When he’d walked her to the back door, he brushed the lightest kiss across her lips. Not her cheek or her forehead or the top of her head, but right smack on her mouth. From that moment on her thoughts changed from Jonah-my-friend or Jonah-my-confidant to Jonah-the-man-I-will-marry. Although he never voiced promises or pledges of undying love, hadn’t he asked to court her? Courting led to the end of
Rumschpringe,
preparations for baptism, and the announcement of an engagement unless someone discovered a past indiscretion or present personality trait they couldn’t live with. As far as she knew she had no peculiarities a husband couldn’t live with, except for the time Emma smacked her with a pillow for snoring.

And Leah did want to marry him. That realization had come over her slowly, like a head cold in the spring. She’d gone from wishing to work for the rest of her days to picturing herself surrounded by
kinner.
Maybe not ten or twelve, but as many as God thought her fit to raise. Did all girls change their minds so quickly when love came knocking? Because Leah was certain this was love.

So why haven’t I taken his advice?
Days, even weeks had gone by, and she hadn’t confronted April. Was she that weak or afraid?

After the hayride, Jonah had to travel to Wisconsin to help his uncle with the corn harvest. Leah had breathed a sigh of relief because this would allow her time to pick the perfect moment to approach her partner. But October brought tourists down from Cleveland and Columbus to view the foliage. Leah’s Home Cooking had become twice as busy. Customers occupied every picnic table up until closing to savor the last warm days. No lull existed between breakfast and lunch. April and Leah had started coming to work half an hour early to finish preparations before unlocking the front door.

No opportunity for a heart-to-heart chat had presented itself, perfect or otherwise.

With a deep sense of shame, Leah realized three weeks had passed. According to his last letter, Jonah would soon be home and he was eager to hear her story. Today had to be the day, even if she had to block April’s pickup with her buggy.

However when she arrived at the diner, April wasn’t parked in her regular spot. An unfamiliar truck had parked cockeyed across two spaces near the entrance. Instead of releasing her horse into the paddock, Leah tied the reins to the signpost and marched toward the front door. A tall, thin man with a bushy mustache was peering through the diner window. He held papers in his hand while several others had already been attached to the front door.

“Excuse me, sir,” Leah called from across the lot. “We don’t open for another forty minutes. And we don’t allow advertising flyers on the diner’s exterior. We have a community bulletin board inside that you’re welcome to use once we open for breakfast.” She tried to keep her tone cordial, but people advertising free-to-good-home kittens, lost dogs, or cars for sale were often zealous with their postings.

The man turned and assessed her from head to toe. “You must be Miz Lambright’s Amish partner,” he said without an ounce of warmth.

“Yes, I am Leah Miller. What can I do for you?” Uneasiness swelled in her belly. Something told her this man wasn’t interested in selling used farm equipment from their bulletin board.

He moved away from the door so that she could read the posted flyer.

“Eviction Notice—the Sheriff’s Department of Holmes County does hereby order said premises to be vacated by…” Leah stopped reading aloud as the words blurred before her eyes. She spotted a date, the diner’s address, and “Leah’s Home Cooking” all printed neatly in black permanent marker. But the more she studied the paper, the more confused she grew. She shook her head trying to clear the fog. “Who are you and what’s this about—this eviction notice?” she asked, arching her back to appear taller.

“I’m Whip Jenkins, your landlord, in case you haven’t figured that out. And I’m booting you ladies and your lit’l restaurant out of here.” He glared down his thin nose with unbridled contempt. “That’s what happens when you don’t pay the rent. A man can only be patient for so long before he feels he’s being taken for a fool by sweet-talkin’ gals in long dresses.”

Leah backed up a step. The smell of stale cigarette smoke on his clothes was overwhelming. “No one is taking advantage of you. There must be some mistake. April mailed you a check weeks ago to bring our account up to date.”

“Yeah, and that check bounced higher than a kite.” The landlord hooked his thumbs into his jeans pockets and tried to glare a hole through Leah’s forehead.

It was more than the odor of smoke making Leah sick to her stomach. “The check bounced?” she asked weakly.

“Yeah, that’s when you write a check and you ain’t got money in the account to cover it.” He moderated his tone slightly.

“Jah,
I understand the concept. I just don’t know how this happened. Business has been good, very good. We sometimes have to turn customers away and send them up the road to the buffet.” Leah wiped her damp palms down her skirt.