by Emma Miller
Everyone was quiet again. The sound of the buggy wheels and the rapid clip-clop of the horse’s hooves against the hardtop were all Honor could hear. She waited for Luke to say something. If this was a game of wits, she wanted to win. But he shouldn’t give up so easily.
“So, which was it?” Honor pressed when she could hold her tongue no longer. “You wanted to get to Simon’s, or it was a trick to get me to feel sorry for you?” This time she didn’t look at Luke, but kept her gaze on Anke.
Tanner giggled, and Justice and Elijah took up the laughter.
“Hush, boys,” Luke admonished softly.
To Honor’s astonishment, they obeyed.
“I guess we’ll never know the answer to that,” Luke said, looking her way.
And, in spite of herself, Honor chuckled. One thing you could say for Luke. He might be infuriating, but he was never dull.
When they arrived at Sara’s, her hired man, Hiram, and another man were taking charge of the guests’ horses. Luke helped Greta out of the buggy and then came around to assist Honor. The boys scrambled out of the back, and Luke insisted on carrying the baskets with the sweet potato pies inside.
Sara’s house was crowded with people, all talking at once in a mixture of Deitsch and English. Children, hers and others’, crawled under the tables and hid behind the couch and easy chairs, peeked shyly at each other and then slipped away to play. Seniors sat or stood in clusters and younger women hugged and called out to friends.
The rooms smelled deliciously of gingerbread, pumpkin pie and baking ham, and everyone was relaxed and eager to share the day with each other. Although Seven Poplars wasn’t the community that Honor had been raised in, she knew many of Sara’s friends and immediately felt at home.
Hannah, Sara’s cousin, who lived nearby, asked to take the baby, and Anke seemed delighted to be snatched away and displayed for everyone to admire. The schoolteacher, Ellie, who was a little person, showed Honor where to put her coat and introduced her to several young women Honor hadn’t yet met. Luke deposited the pies on a counter on the porch with other desserts and vanished, presumably to find other men. In social occasions, Amish men and women were free to circulate as they pleased, but usually they ended up talking with those of their own gender. For Honor, having other women to talk to was wonderful, given her isolation on the farm.
Sara greeted her with a kiss on the cheek and a request for help with biscuit dough that was almost ready to go into the oven. Honor readily accepted the task, found an apron to cover her good clothes and joined Ellie in hand rolling baking powder biscuits and putting them on trays to go into the oven. Rebecca, one of the Yoder sisters, joined them in the kitchen.
Rebecca was wife to a Seven Poplars preacher and they had three children. Honor had met her before, but they’d never really had a chance to talk. With her in the kitchen now, Honor soon learned that Rebecca had a delightful sense of humor.
It was such a treat to be there, enjoying Sara’s hospitality. Before her marriage to Silas, Honor had always enjoyed visiting friends and relatives and sharing the joy of holidays such as Little Christmas. Silas hadn’t. He preferred to remain at home, and he preferred her in the house with her duties and her children. Church and the occasional grocery-shopping trip had been the rare times when she’d gotten out. Why she’d waited so long after his passing to return to the community, she wasn’t sure. But she was here, and she was determined to make the most of every moment.
Men were setting up extra tables in the living room and the sitting room at the bottom of the stairs. Honor noticed a woman in a black elder’s kapp and knit shawl sitting in the midst of several young mothers. The old woman, who was in a wheelchair, fussed loudly as one of them arranged a blanket over her knees and passed a baby into her arms.
“That’s Anna Mast’s grandmother Lovina Yoder,” Ellie explained. “She lives with Anna and her Samuel.”
“I remember her. She’s Martha Coblenz’s mother, isn’t she?” Honor asked.
“Ya,” Ellie agreed. “And Hannah’s mother-in-law. Not Albert’s mother, but her first husband’s.”
Honor lowered her voice. “Lovina’s always terrified me.”
Ellie chuckled. “Ya, she can be that way. But Hannah says Anna gets along goot with her.”
Sara took Lovina a cup of hot mulled cider and retrieved the baby. Lovina complained that the cider wasn’t hot enough and demanded to know when supper was to be served.
“Soon, soon,” Sara soothed, patting the elderly woman’s hand. “We’re just waiting on the biscuits and a few more families.”
“I should hope so,” Lovina declared. “I didn’t come out on such a cold day to go home with an empty stomach. My Jonas is hungry, too. He told me so. He’s out in the barn. Milking the cows. But he will be in soon, and he wants his supper.”
Honor looked at Ellie and whispered, “I thought Jonas passed away long ago.”
“He did,” Ellie said. “But Lovina likes to think he’s still with us. Her memory isn’t what it used to be, so Anna thinks it’s kinder if we all just go along with it.”
A woman brought a new, partially knit baby cap for Lovina to admire, and the elderly woman stopped grumbling and turned all her attention to the pattern.
Another couple came in out of the cold, bringing plates of German sausages, a tub of sauerkraut and a huge platter of fastnacht kucha. Since honey doughnuts were Honor’s weakness, she couldn’t wait for dessert.
Honor wasn’t certain how any more guests would fit into Sara’s house, but no one seemed to mind that the rooms were quickly filling up or that yet another table had to be squeezed in.
Between the exchange of recipes and neighborhood news, Honor couldn’t help hearing snatches of Luke’s voice or catching glimpses of him. To her own astonishment, she found herself following him with her gaze. Was it possible that she still cared for him after what had happened between them? She knew the answer to that question, but it had nothing to do with her resolve that he could have no part in her future other than to mend a few broken fences or patch a hole in a wall.
“I see you came with Luke Weaver,” Rebecca teased as they completed the final tray of biscuits and slid it into the hot oven.
“What?” Honor felt herself flush. Had it been so obvious that she was watching him? “Um, we came upon him walking. On the road.”
Ellie chuckled. “And, naturally, you gave him a ride.”
Honor offered a quick smile. “Naturally.” She spotted Anke in Martha Coblenz’s arms and took the opportunity to escape the conversation by swooping to reclaim her daughter. “Aenti Martha. It’s good to see you.” Honor raised on tiptoe to kissed the older woman’s cheek. “How is Onkel Reuben?” Martha wasn’t really a relative, but she’d been a good friend of Honor’s late mother, and Honor had always addressed them as Aunt and Uncle.
“Not well,” Martha replied. “Not well, at all. His back and his knees. He suffers in cold weather.”
Honor smiled and nodded as though she hadn’t seen Onkel Reuben carrying one end of a heavy table just a few minutes before. Like his wife, Reuben was full of complaints. As Honor’s mother had always said, Reuben had never been one for work, but he’d always eaten for two men and seemed to do whatever he wanted. But despite their dour outlooks on life, Honor had always believed the couple had good hearts.
“Sara’s hunting you a husband, is she?” Martha asked. “About time.” She was a tall, spare woman with an ample chin and a nose like a hawk’s, who never missed an item of interest that went on in the county.
Honor nodded. “I’ve asked Sara to find me a settled, older man, possibly a widower with children. I need someone with experience to be a father to my children.”
Martha harrumphed, “That you do, because they are sore in need of a man’s hand, I can tell you that. Remember what the Good Book says—spare the rod and spoil the child.”
“Martha!” Hannah Yoder Hartman entered the kitchen, bundled in cape and bonnet, her nose and cheeks red from the cold winter air. She was carrying a cast-aluminum turkey roaster. “Could you get this lid? I think it’s slipping.”
Martha grabbed a hot mitt off the counter and successfully caught the sliding cover. Hannah deposited the turkey onto Sara’s second stove.
“Come with me,” Martha urged her sister-in-law. “It’s warm in here, and I have something to tell you. You’ll never guess...”
Hannah followed Martha out of the kitchen, and Honor gave a sigh of relief. She feared that bringing Luke in her buggy might start gossip, but she hoped that she’d stopped that rumor before it got started.
Greta appeared at Honor’s side. “Can I take Anke?” she asked. “I was telling some girls my age about her, and they wanted to see her.”
Surprised that Greta would ask for her daughter, Honor happily handed her over as she made the introductions to the others in the kitchen. “Greta is Silas’s niece, come to help me with the children,” she explained. “She doesn’t know many people here in Seven Poplars yet.”
“But I met Jane now,” Greta said. “And her sister May. They have a little sister the same age as Anke. And there’s a girl, Zipporah, who lives near us, I think. They asked if I could bring her.” She pointed to the front room. “There are blocks. For Anke to play with.”
“Of course,” Honor agreed. “I’m glad you’re making new friends.” She watched until Greta was safely out of earshot and then smiled at Rebecca. “That’s a blessing. The girl’s been so homesick that I was afraid I’d have to send her back to her mother. She didn’t want to come today. I do hope she has a good time.”
“She will,” Rebecca said.
“Ya,” Ellie chimed in. “Jane and May are my students. They’re nice girls. And they are experienced with babies, so your Anke’s in safe hands.”
Rebecca turned to the sink and began to wash the large stainless steel bowl that had held the biscuit dough. “I was surprised to hear that Luke Weaver’s come back from Kansas. Is he planning on staying in Delaware?”
Honor shrugged. “I wouldn’t know. He’s doing some carpentry work for me.”
“Mmm-hmm,” Rebecca answered. She and Ellie exchanged glances and both women chuckled.
“Ne, really,” Honor protested. She suddenly felt her throat and cheeks growing warm again and told herself that it was the heat of the oven. “It’s just a business arrangement.”
Ellie’s voice dropped to a whisper. “But you have to admit, he is cute.”
Honor shrugged. “I suppose, in a boyish sort of way.”
Ellie giggled. “Not boyish by the width of those shoulders.”
Sara walked back into the kitchen with a pitcher in her hands. “Honor, would you go down to the cellar for more apple cider? That door over there. Watch the steps. There isn’t much light from the basement window today.”
Ellie looked up from unwrapping squares of homemade butter pressed with a leaf print. “I can go, if you like.”
“Ne, I don’t mind.” Honor took the green pitcher and slid the latch on the cellar door. She waited a few seconds at the top of the steps while her eyes adjusted to the dim lighting. When they’d arrived at Sara’s, the sun had been shining, but now the afternoon was growing cloudy and there wasn’t much light coming in through the windows.
Honor descended the stairs and quickly found the keg of cider. She filled the pitcher and started for the steps, but, as she put her hand on the banister, someone opened the door. She stepped back and saw that it was Luke. He was carrying a green pitcher.
“I didn’t know you were down here,” he said.
“I was just bringing up this pitcher of apple cider. For Sara.”
For an instant, a puzzled expression crossed his face, but then he smiled. “Funny,” he said. “Sara must have forgotten.” He tilted his pitcher so that she could see that it was empty. “Because she just sent me for cider.”
He chuckled, and then, against her will, she began to laugh with him. “If I didn’t know better,” she said, “I’d think Sara is trying to set us up.”
Chapter Six
Leaving the door open, Luke came down the stairs and settled on one of the lower steps. He cradled the empty pitcher between his hands. “I suppose it’s possible that Sara is trying to match us up. It is what she does for a living. And, from what I hear...” He met Honor’s suspicious gaze full on. “She knows what she’s doing. She has a reputation for seeing solid matches where others don’t.”
Honor pursed her lips, but her eyes were open wide, not narrowed, and she didn’t appear to be disapproving.
Luke took it as a positive sign and forged ahead. “I already know we’d be a good fit. Perfect, in fact, if it wasn’t for what happened last time you agreed to marry me. Which you have every reason to be angry about.”
“I’m not angry. At least not anymore,” she corrected, standing in front of him, holding a pitcher identical to the one Sara had given him. “That was a long time ago, and I’ve moved on with my life.”
“I still feel like we need to talk about what happened,” he urged, coming to his feet. “If you’d let me apologize for—”
“Ne,” she interrupted firmly. “I’m afraid I’m not that far past it. Not today, at least.” She sighed. “I don’t want to feel those emotions again, Luke. Anger. Bitterness. That’s not helpful for either of us. I’m simply not in the mood to drag all that up. This is too special of a day to ruin it with an old disagreement.”
“We have to talk about it someday,” he insisted.
“Maybe, maybe not.” She shrugged. “But definitely not today. I’m having a wonderful time, and I don’t want anything to ruin it.”
He crossed the cellar to the barrel and filled his pitcher with cider. “This is delicious, you know,” he said. “I had a glass upstairs. Some of the best I’ve had in years. Sara said she liked to blend different kinds of apples to get just the right flavor.”
“Ya.” Some of the tension eased from Honor’s posture. She gave him a shy smile. “I had some, too, and it was good.”
“Tanner definitely likes it. I think I saw him drink three cups.” Luke grimaced. “I hope that won’t cause trouble later.”
“I don’t think so,” Honor replied, setting her pitcher on a stool. “He has a stomach like his father. Silas could eat anything and it never bothered him. Once, at his brother-in-law’s house, the two of them were eating scrapple sandwiches and they hadn’t bothered to cook the scrapple.” She shook her head. “I like scrapple, but I want mine crispy and cooked all the way through. I was certain Silas would be sick, but it never even gave him indigestion. He said I was too finicky. That I’d make our boys weak.”
“They hardly look weak to me.” Luke tightened the shutoff on the cider barrel. “Justice can already lift Tanner, and in another year, Tanner won’t be able to hold his own when they wrestle. And that little one, Elijah, he’s amazing for his age. Anything the older two do, he’s right there, trying to imitate them.” He carried the pitcher back to the bottom of the steps and placed it carefully on the floor before sitting down again. He patted the step beside him. “Sit with me? I won’t bite. Unless you think you’d better go up and check on the children.”
Honor folded her arms and regarded him for a long moment. Then she lowered herself on the step beside him. “Ne, I don’t want to check on the children. I don’t hear any screams, and I don’t hear anything breaking. There are enough pairs of eyes to watch them, and truthfully, I’m enjoying having someone else do it.” She glanced away and he noticed a slight rosy tint on her cheeks. “Now I’ve said it,” she murmured. “You’ll think me a terrible mother.”
“I don’t. I think you’re a wonderful mother...if a little—” He bit off what he was going to say, knowing that he was wading into
uncertain depths.
“You think I spoil them?”
“Not spoil, exactly. But they are...” He let his last thought go unspoken.
“Bad? Wild? Unruly?” She laughed. “Go ahead, say it. You won’t hurt my feelings. And you won’t be the first to say it. I know that I sometimes let them go too far, but I don’t believe a parent should always be telling a child not to do something. Don’t you think it’s better to be an example of how they should live than to be constantly dictating to them?”
“You’re right, of course,” he said. “And I don’t think they’re bad children. Wild, certainly. But not bad and not mean. They have your good nature. And they don’t whine. I hardly ever hear them cry, not even the baby.”
She arched a brow. “And you’ve had a lot of experience parenting small children?”
“Ne, of course not.” It was his turn to shrug. “But I had a lot of cousins out in Kansas, and most of them are older than me. We had our fair share of children in our church community. Our preacher gave a lot of sermons on the responsibilities of being a mother or father and on the importance of bringing up children who would honor their parents and our traditions.”
“Honoring your parents and doing what you’re told was always important to Silas,” Honor said. “But my mother and father always put love first. It’s what I’ve tried to do with my little ones. It’s not always easy, especially now, being both father and mother.” She steepled her hands. “You’d be surprised at how much advice I get, especially from those who have no children of their own.”
“Ouch,” he said, grimacing. “Point taken.” He chuckled and she laughed with him. “But I do think you’re a wonderful mother,” he said. “An amazing person who never deserved what I did to you.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Didn’t we agree we weren’t going to discuss this?”
“Not really. You said we weren’t. I never agreed.” Half-surprised she didn’t just stand and go upstairs, he pushed on. “I don’t want to put a damper on your holiday, Honor. I’ll make this quick, I promise, but I need to say it to you. Face-to-face.” He took a breath and turned to her. “I made a terrible mistake the day we were supposed to marry, and it’s troubled me all these years. I owe you an apology. I hurt you, and I’m sorry. I know it doesn’t make up for what I did, but I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me. If not now, someday.”
