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

by Mary Ellis

  Andrews led the colt into the stall and began wiping him down with a towel. Matt followed right behind and then planted himself in the doorway.

  “Objective, huh? Well, Matty my boy, don’t get yourself all worked up about this yearling. He ain’t yours and you’ve got nothing to worry about anyway.” He threw the towel down in the shavings and began rubbing down his coat with a soft brush. “I’ll put liniment on that leg, tape it up, and then give him my miracle potion. He’ll be good as new.” The trainer patted the colt’s hind flank.

  Matthew shut the stall door with one muddy boot. “Does that miracle cure come in a hypodermic needle? You got no business injecting steroids without the owner’s permission. Besides, Mr. Mac wants a vet or licensed tech to give injections because of all the liability.”

  Andrews reared back as though the colt had kicked him. His expression morphed from shock to outrage to anxiety in a matter of seconds. He grabbed Matthew’s shirt in one meaty fist. “Who told you about me giving him a shot?”

  Matthew glared at his boss. “Let go of my shirt before it rips.”

  Andrews glared back but released his hold.

  “Nobody told me about it. I saw you with my own eyes a couple weeks ago. I had to come back to his stall to get my gloves.”

  The trainer’s face regained some composure. “Who did you tell about this, Miller?”

  “Nobody. I had hoped it was a one-time episode, but now I’m not so sure.”

  Andrews’ features returned to their normal glower. “This ain’t none of your business. You just do what I tell you and keep your nose clean.” He jabbed a finger into the apprentice’s chest.

  Matthew grabbed hold of the man’s finger and pushed it away. “Don’t do that.” He gritted out the words, even though he was ill equipped for the confrontation. Plain folk usually removed themselves from conflicts like this, especially with an Englischer. “You told me I needed to watch to learn the business. But I didn’t think I would see you doing something illegal.”

  “That shot was no illegal drug. I gave this yearling what anybody else would’ve given him.” He stroked the horse’s neck.

  “You’re not licensed to give shots. You should’ve called the vet.”

  “Then the vet would’ve called the owner, and they’d hightail it up here in a tizzy, especially that man’s wife. She would want to take the colt home and put it in a crib next to her bed.” He spit something disgusting into a baby food jar he kept in his pocket.

  Matthew tried to hide his contempt. “It’s her horse, so she has a right to let it sleep anywhere she chooses.” He ran a hand down the colt’s silky mane.

  This wasn’t the response Andrews had expected for his bad joke. “Are you soft like her? Because this is a job, a career, not a 4-H project. You’ve got plenty of potential, Matty, lots more than those slackers Mr. Mac always seems to hire. But you better listen to me, boy, and learn how the real world operates. I’ll call the vet for the colt if that leg isn’t better in a few days. But in the meantime, you just keep your big mouth shut.” He jabbed his forefinger one last time into Matt’s chest and then stomped off, leaving the stall gate open behind him.

  Matthew glanced back at the yearling. The horse took a tentative step forward and started rubbing his head on Matt’s arm. Somehow that gesture made the young trainer feel a whole lot better.

  Emma slapped at a deerfly that seemed determined to ruin an otherwise perfect morning. Those pesky bugs could try the patience of a saint. But when she straightened her spine to inspect the neat rows of her vegetable garden, Emma liked what she saw. The green beans were almost ready to pick. Green onions, radishes, and carrots had been planted in stages, so they would add color to salads for weeks to come. Her cabbages were round and plump, while five varieties of peppers, including a new habanero, promised plenty of late-summer spice. She had been cutting romaine lettuce and fresh spinach every day as she waited for the iceberg lettuce to form firm heads. Maybe they wouldn’t grow to the size of their West Coast counterparts, with California’s endless sunshine, but hers could be picked at the peak of sweetness instead of early for shipment.

  Emma surveyed her garden with pride. It was not only a joy to behold but provided healthy nutrition for the cost of seeds—worth every slug and mealy bug she’d picked off by hand. As she absently swatted her cheek once more, the sound of crunching gravel diverted her attention from the deerfly.

  A large pickup had pulled up the drive. Loud, raucous music poured from the open windows. When the doors flew open and two young men and an equal number of big-haired girls climbed out, Emma knew they weren’t here about riding lessons. Wiping her dirty hands on her apron, she left her small patch of paradise, careful not to step on the cantaloupe runners.

  As Emma approached the foursome, the blonde whispered something behind her hand to the brown-haired girl. The brunette grinned at whatever had been said.

  “May I help you?” she asked, closing the distance between them.

  “Ah…yeah,” said one young man. “We’re looking for Jamie. We’re old friends of his from high school.” He was wearing tight blue jeans and a tank top that left more chest exposed than covered. Emma saw little point to a shirt like that.

  “He’s cutting hay in the south fields,” she said. “I’ll send someone to get him.”

  “Are you his wife?” the blonde asked. “Someone told me he got married a couple years ago.” She smiled pleasantly, but Emma couldn’t stop gawking at her clothes. She was wearing the shortest skirt imaginable, and the hem of her cotton top didn’t come close to the skirt’s waistband. A wide expanse of her tummy and back showed. Emma felt a sting of embarrassment for the girl.

  “Jah, I’m Emma Davis.” She stood like a statue, not sure if she should shake hands or what. Considering the state of her hands at the moment, she chose to brush them across her apron instead.

  “I’m Kim, and this is Corrine, Mark, and Josh,” said the blonde without sufficient clothing.

  The two men nodded while the one named Corrine smiled. “Kim was Jamie’s date for our high school prom,” she said. Her skirt was equally short, but her top was so long it looked as though she wore no skirt at all.

  “Is that right?” Emma asked, with little inflection. “Jamie will be happy to see you all, I’m sure. Why don’t you wait on the porch? I’ll be right back.”

  The four friends walked toward the house while Emma headed to the farm office, feeling discombobulated. It would’ve been nice to bathe and put on a fresh dress before meeting her husband’s old pals.

  In the office the foreman called James on his cell phone and asked him to come to the house. Once she knew he was on his way, Emma walked slowly back to the group, trying to calm her fluttery nerves. Why the visit after five years of being out of school? Climbing the porch steps, she smiled as pleasantly as possible. “Would anyone like something to drink?” she asked.

  The taller of the two men said, “Sure, I could use a cold one.”

  “Yeah, me too, if it wouldn’t be too much trouble,” said the other man.

  Emma gazed from one to the other. “A cold one what? Iced tea? Lemonade? Coke?”

  The girls snickered; the men looked stricken.

  “A cold beer, if you don’t mind,” answered the first man.

  Emma blinked. “We have no beer in the house, warm or cold.”

  “We’ll all have Cokes, Emma,” said Kim quickly. “That sounds great.”

  “Coming right up,” Emma murmured.

  Inside the kitchen she fumed. Cold beer at two o’clock in the afternoon? What a ridiculous idea. What did they plan to get done later? And one of them would be getting behind the wheel of the truck. The more she thought about it, the more irritated she grew, but she kept her features expressionless as she carried the tray of soft drinks outside.

  Blessedly, James came marching across the lawn with his face beaming. “Hi, everybody, long time no see.” He hugged all four old friends, including the two women.<
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  Emma felt the ugly emotion of jealousy rear its head.

  “Oh, my gosh, Jamie, look at you! You look just like an actor in a History Channel movie,” Kim said, holding him at arm’s length. “It’s really true, then. We had heard you turned Amish, but I wouldn’t believe it until I saw for myself. Congratulations, if that’s the proper thing to say.”

  Five of the six people laughed. James stepped back from Kim and put his arm around Emma’s shoulders. “Jah, I turned Amish three years ago, right after I finished at OSU’s Agricultural College. We got hitched the following year.”

  Emma watched Kim’s face while James explained. Her smile melted like a snow cone in the sun.

  “You’ve been married for two years already?” Kim asked.

  “We have,” he said, tightening his hold on her shoulders.

  “How old is your kid?”

  James shook his head. “No children yet. We hope for a baby someday, but so far we haven’t been blessed.”

  Kim stared at Emma. “I’m surprised…surprised by everything coming out of your mouth, Jamie Davis.” She picked up her Coke and drank down half of it before stopping.

  “How’s your family?” asked Mark, giving Kim an odd look.

  “Fine, everyone’s good,” said James. “Dad is still not ready to retire. He likes working too much to stop. Mom’s nursing in Canton. Lily’s at vet school, my older brother is an associate pastor in Wooster, and my little brother is home from college. That’s everybody.”

  “Did you finish at OSU?” asked Josh.

  “Yeah, I fit everything I needed into two years. I couldn’t wait to be done with school.”

  “You and me both, old buddy,” said Mark. “My folks insisted that I get my MBA when I graduated from Bowling Green with an under-grad degree. They said it would improve my job prospects. So I didn’t finish until last month, and I don’t want to open another textbook for the rest of my life.” All of the males laughed at this.

  “So what do you do here?” asked Corrine, glancing around.

  “I help my dad run his business and I farm.”

  “Using those giant horses I see in the fields?”

  James smiled easily. “No, we’re New Order. We use tractors and other mechanized equipment.”

  “Oh, that’s good.” Corrine looked quickly at Emma. “I mean…it’s faster and easier with a tractor than with horses, isn’t it?”

  But James wasn’t the least bit uncomfortable. “It sure is. I get as much done as I did before.”

  “I see you still have your truck,” said Kim. “I saw it parked near the barn.”

  “It’s Kevin’s truck now. I sold it to him.”

  Emma heard the timer go off on the stove, signaling that her muffins were done. “If you will excuse me, I have to tend to something in the house.” She slipped out from under her husband’s arm and hurried inside.

  She didn’t want to spend another minute on the porch in her untidy dress while James’ former prom date stole surreptitious glances at her.

  Why are his friends looking him up after five years? This was Holmes County. They probably saw plenty of Amish people every day.

  Maybe it was her imagination, but Kim seemed to possess more interest than normal for someone supposed to be “just a friend.”

  Leah trotted the horse all the way home from Mrs. Byler’s that day. She hurried to fix supper, tried to hurry her family through the meal, and rushed to clean up the kitchen. She couldn’t wait to try the new cheese in the recipe she was inventing. And the results were better than expectations.

  Peach Parfait Supreme was light and creamy, sweet yet tangy, with firm ripe peaches that melted on your tongue and left only a delicious memory. It was a slice of summertime—perfect alone or topped with vanilla ice cream or frozen yogurt. She had baked up two pies that night with some Georgia peaches purchased from the fruit seller in Wilmot. Her family had raved and devoured the first pie that night. April had gushed over her sample slice the next day and then took the remainder of the second pie home to her family. On Leah’s next baking day, she made an even half dozen. The recipe would only improve once Ohio peaches were ready to pick.

  Now today was Thursday, and if Jonah Byler didn’t stop by the diner soon, there would be no pie for him to try and report back to his mother. She should have baked one extra to set aside for Mrs. Byler.

  She shouldn’t have let Daniel, Steven, and John have second helpings during the inaugural week of Peach Parfait Supreme. She was sure they only did so to get on her good side.

  And she shouldn’t let all their attention puff her up like a crowing barnyard rooster. It was only pie. But everyone who tried it seemed to truly like it.

  Later during the lunch rush, the bell over the door jangled to announce another customer. Leah didn’t even turn her head as she delivered a full tray of plates to a booth. Everyone seemed to have a special request that day: More pickles, please. Could you grill my burger a little more? I’d prefer the dressing on the side instead of already on the salad. And every place at the counter had remained occupied since breakfast. Daniel and his friends took up three stools and didn’t seem to be in much of a hurry. They dawdled over cheeseburgers and chips while offering updates from their blacksmith shop, furniture factory, and farm, respectively. Leah was too busy to pay much attention, but she nodded and added a few comments to be polite.

  Half an hour later, she crossed paths with April while carrying a tray of dirty dishes to the dishwasher. “I’m surprised you didn’t want to wait on Jonah yourself,” April said.

  “What?” Leah squawked. “He’s here? When did he sneak in? Where is he sitting?”

  April faced her. “That’s four questions in one breath. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you rather like the guy.”

  “Liking has nothing to do with it,” Leah said, tucking a stray lock under her kapp. “I just want him to try my creation and report back to Joanna.” She pulled off her soiled apron and slipped on a fresh one in under three seconds.

  “You’d better hurry. Last time I checked there’s only one piece left. And he’s sitting in his regular spot.”

  Leah swallowed hard, feeling as though the radio had announced tornados were headed their way. She charged through the swinging door and headed straight for the refrigerated display carousel. The last piece of Peach Parfait Supreme sat forlornly under plastic wrap.

  In the few moments it took to reach the pie a customer’s voice sang out. “Say, Leah, I’ll take another slice of your new recipe. It wasn’t bad at all.”

  Leah pivoted. The speaker was the elderly Englischer who had been their very first customer. The buttons on his work coveralls were already straining from his exceptional appetite.

  Leah looked past him toward the last booth. Sure enough, Jonah Byler was poring over The Daily Budget. “Mr. Rhodes,” she whispered. “I was saving the last piece for somebody. Would you mind terribly if I gave it to him?”

  Rhodes swiveled on his stool in the direction Leah had been looking. He wheezed with laughter. “Sure thing. I was young once. At least my wife tells me we were. Can’t remember much about it.”

  She smiled. “Thank you, Mr. Rhodes. How about some Dutch Apple Crumb on the house instead?”

  “Done!” Rhodes looked pleased with the bargain. Leah served up his pie and then hurried toward Jonah’s booth with the dessert special before someone else wanted it.

  She set the plate down on his table with a clatter. “Hello, Jonah. Nice of you to drop by.”

  “What’s that?” he asked, barely glancing away from his newspaper.

  “My Peach Parfait Supreme—the new recipe I made with the specialty cheese I bought from your mamm.” She felt giddy with anticipation.

  “Sure, I remember, but I’m really full, Leah. April heaped up my sandwich with ham and cheese like she was trying to fatten me up. Extra macaroni salad too.” He flashed a smile over the newspaper. ‘I’ll try it another time. Really, I can’t eat another bite.�
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  She felt deflated, as though he had actually poked a hole in her. “Jonah, please, just sample a forkful and I’ll wrap up the rest for you to take home. I would like your mother to try it. I practically had to wrestle this piece away from another customer.”

  “Someone requested this slice of pie, but instead you brought it to a person who hadn’t ordered it?” His tone of voice was maddeningly soft and conversational.

  “Pretty much. I wanted you to try it.”

  “All right. I’ll taste a bite once the sandwich settles a little.” He glanced at her before returning his focus to the newspaper.

  Leah’s level of annoyance ratcheted up a notch. “Jonah Byler, would you please put the paper down and pay attention to me?” As soon as she said the words, she felt vain and bold, but it was too late to recall her hasty words.

  He folded The Daily Budget in half, set it aside, and focused his sea blue eyes on her. “You don’t need my attention, Miss Miller,” he said calmly. “You’ve been getting compliments from plumb near everybody else all morning.” He nodded in the direction of the counter. Her three regular Amish customers were sneaking peeks at them over their shoulders.

  Leah prayed for the floor of the train car to give way beneath her feet. “Sorry. You’re right,” she mumbled. “I’m acting like a child. You would think I’d found the cure for a deadly disease or something.” Her cheeks flamed with embarrassment while the back of her throat burned. She picked up the plate of dessert but Jonah grabbed her hand.

  “Please leave it. I do want to try it, and I’m sure my mother will be curious.”

  The touch of his fingers was more than she could bear. She pulled her hand back as though stung by a bee. “I’ll get you a small box.” She walked to the kitchen with legs turned to rubber and then delivered a Styrofoam container on her way to another table. Fortunately, April then sent her to the kitchen to start more coffee and iced tea.

  Shame from her foolish, prideful behavior washed over her like a dense fog. The more she thought about her actions, the worse she felt. Tonight she would pray long and hard to be delivered from herself. Her job was changing her, and not for the better.