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

by Mary Ellis

  “I’m not a deadbeat, Mr. Jenkins. At least I don’t mean to be. I’ll pay you every dime of what I owe. It’s tough to…manage all the expenses during the first year of business. There’s a lot of record-keeping to get used to.”

  “That’s just what I’m talking about. I heard some disturbing rumors around town. Sounds like you owe quite a few people money. I can’t be too lenient with you or you’ll pay everybody else first and leave me until last.” He let his gaze scan over her in a most unpleasant manner. “You’re a nice enough lady, but I don’t want to get stuck holding the bag. I’ve got a mortgage on this place and property taxes. Heck, you’re paid up now—at least you will be when you hand over that check you’ve been talking about—but we’re at the end of June. July rent is due by the tenth of the month. And I want it by then or I’ll have to start advertising for a new tenant. I know you’re new at this, but times are tough. I gotta look out for myself.” He straightened up on the stool. “What’ll your customers think if they read in the newspaper that this place is looking for a new renter? Rats will desert a sinking ship every time.” He rubbed the stubble on his jaw.

  April felt her spine stiffen while some rather mean-spirited thoughts flitted through her mind, but she shook them off. “We have a one-year lease,” she said, struggling to keep her tone even.

  “And that agreement is based on you keeping up your end of the bargain!”

  “I’ve put a lot of time and my own money in remodeling this place. It was a dump when you bought it.”

  “All the more reason for you to pay the rent on time.”

  Neither person spoke for several moments; then he scraped his fork around the edge of the pie tin. “You know…this pie is really good. I hope you do make a go of this restaurant. I’ve got nothing against you, but I’m a businessman, pure and simple.”

  April released her pent-up breath slowly, trying to expel anger at the same time. She refused to let him get under her skin on such a fine summer day. Unexpectedly, her eyes filled with tears—an unwarranted response for a businesswoman. She picked up the empty pan and his fork and busied herself rewiping the counter.

  But he’d seen her display of weakness and turned away. “I noticed on the chalkboard that your lunch special was barbeque beef. I love that stuff on rye bread with sweet pickles. You got any left?” he asked.

  April tossed the dishrag into the sink. “There’s a quart container; that’s all.” She narrowed her gaze on him. The tears were gone.

  “Well, if you give me that quart of beef and those last two pies in the spinner rack, I’ll let you have until the fifteenth of the month, but no longer. After that, I’ll be placing that newspaper ad if I don’t have your check.”

  One or two un-Christian responses came to mind, but she swallowed them down like stomach acid. She nodded, pulled the pies from the metal carousel, and placed them in boxes. Then she strode into the kitchen to get his rent check and the container of beef from the refrigerator.

  The sooner this repugnant man was on his way, the better.

  Then April would drive to the babysitter for her children, praying the entire way to be delivered from the mess she was in.

  It didn’t take Jonah long to ask Leah out once she agreed to get to know him a little better. She had told him yes on a Sunday and by Tuesday she found a note in her mailbox. He asked her to spend the Fourth of July with him in Millersburg the following Monday. If she were willing, his Mennonite cousin and wife would pick them both up and bring them home after fireworks. Leah began a note of reply within minutes of finding the letter, but then she remembered she should first check with her parents. She assumed there would be no objection, but if the quantity of mamm’s questions were any indication, Leah had plenty to worry about.

  “An Independence Day celebration?” asked Julia while peeling cucumbers at the sink. “You know Plain folk don’t participate in political doings.”

  “Jah,” Leah agreed, “but this will be more like a big birthday party for our country with a parade, pie-eating and watermelon seed-spitting contests, good eats, and fireworks at dusk.”

  Julia looked at her incredulously. “Seeing who can spit a seed the farthest—this is something that interests you?” she asked.

  “Sure, plus there will be a stroller parade of bopplin,” she answered with a cheery smile. Spitting seeds sounded marginally interesting only if Jonah were by her side.

  “Who are these cousins of the Bylers? I don’t know them.”

  “They are a much older couple from Wilmot—at least thirty years old. Their two little girls will be coming too.” Leah sliced the peeled cucumbers with amazing speed and precision and then swept the pile into a bowl.

  “Much older?” Julia asked, peering at Leah over the top of her glasses. “That would make your daed and me ancient, no?”

  Leah realized her error. “I didn’t mean it like that, only that his cousins are reliable folk.”

  Julia picked up some beets to scrub and trim. “There will be nothing but fair-type food in Millersburg—the same stuff that gave you a bellyache in Cleveland.” She wielded the brush against the vegetables as best she could.

  Leah gently pulled the brush and beets away to clean. “I’ll pick and choose my snacks more carefully this time. I won’t mix such bizarre things.” She offered her most endearing smile.

  “Where did you learn that cat-in-the-cream grin?” Julia asked. “From Emma?”

  The exaggerated smile vanished. “Emma didn’t teach me to smile. I’ve known how to do that since I was little.” She attacked a particularly muddy beet with gusto.

  “Monday is wash day. You surely don’t think I can manage by myself, do you?”

  “No, mamm. They won’t pick me up until after one o’clock. I can get three loads of clothes washed and on the line by then. Then I’ll finish up the rest the next day while I’m baking for the diner.”

  “Is this Jonah the boy you were talking to after preaching? Amos Burkholder’s grandson?”

  “Jah, he’s the one.”

  “And he ain’t one of those boys making a fuss over you at the restaurant?” Her tone implied what her response might be if Jonah were one of them.

  “No. I met him and his mamm when April and I were buying cheese at their farm.”

  “Well, you may go if you don’t attend any political rallies or go anywhere near the beer tent, and if you come right home after the fireworks.” She leveled Leah a stern look. “And I hope you remembered what your daed said about a gal’s reputation.”

  Leah had been expecting the response to be: “I’ll talk to your father about this and let you know.” So when Julia consented, Leah blurted, “Do you mean I can go?”

  “What’s the matter? Don’t you still want to?” Mother and daughter locked gazes and then both burst out laughing.

  “Jah, after all that convincing, I just hope I have a good time.”

  “That’s up to you. Now, please put up a pot of water to boil. I stewed a chicken this afternoon, and buttered noodles will go nicely with it.”

  The old adage “A watched clock never moves” applies to wall calendars too. Leah thought Monday would never arrive. Even though the amount of laundry was larger than usual, she did it with a smile. If nothing else, she planned to get to know Jonah well enough that she wouldn’t hyperventilate each time he spoke. After all, he was delivering special cheeses to the diner on a regular basis since they had added a fruit-and-cheese plate to their menu.

  Leah was waiting on the porch steps rubbing lotion on her hands when Jonah’s cousins picked her up at one o’clock. After introductions she sat up front next to Mrs. Woodhall while Jonah climbed into the back with the kinner. Conversation proved easy because their nine-year-old daughter was quite a chatterbox. She talked about the jugglers, face-painters, and magicians who would be at the celebration—the latter two subsequently forbade by her parents.

  Leah glanced over her shoulder at the little girl but then stopped when she’d felt J
onah’s eyes on her like a spotlight beam. Mrs. Woodhall filled the remaining time with questions about the diner. She had heard of Leah’s Home Cooking but hadn’t yet made the trip to Winesburg. The young wife was amazed that two women could handle ordering, cooking, cleaning, and keeping up accounts by themselves without male intervention.

  Once they parked the van in Millersburg, Jonah and Leah had the day to themselves. The Woodhalls set up lawn chairs on the town square and would remain there in the shade for the duration. “They’re having an Abe Lincoln impersonator deliver the Gettysburg Address,” said Mrs. Woodhall. “Then we’ll watch a veterans’ ceremony honoring men and women from five different wars—six if you count Iraq twice.”

  “What five wars would that be?” asked Leah shyly.

  Following Mr. Woodhall’s list, Leah realized she’d never heard of “Operation Enduring Freedom.”

  “Then there will be a variety of music from bluegrass to patriotic to show tunes performed by the high school band,” said Mrs. Woodhall as she spread out a blanket for her three-year-old son. Her daughter had already joined a group of sidewalk chalk artists.

  “Would you like to walk around Millersburg?” Jonah asked.

  “Jah. I want to see everything if it’s all right with your cousins.”

  “Of course, off you two go,” said Mrs. Woodhall with a wave of her hand.

  Jonah and Leah browsed through bookstores, galleries, and antique shops; they wandered through an elegant historic hotel and ate at several food stands. But when she remembered her mother’s warning, she fed the rest of her fried elephant ear to the birds. Black crows flew down from atop marble statues for the sweet treat.

  Jonah was attentive and charming—if Leah understood the meaning of that word—up until she asked the wrong question. “What did you think about the bishop’s sermon, about setting out with the right intentions each day? Perhaps if we did that we wouldn’t veer so far from the path.”

  Jonah’s sea blue eyes darkened. “I thought it was a lot of good Sunday talk.”

  “What do you mean by Sunday talk?”

  “It sounds great while you’re sitting in the preaching service. But come Monday morning you find it doesn’t work so well. Nothing ever changes.”

  Leah blinked from the sun’s glare. “You must have dozed off and missed part of the message. Having good intentions isn’t enough. You begin with them, jah, but then you must put them into action and assume that things will work out in the end. You start with a certain mind-set, like me serving customers all day without getting my dander up. You make up your mind that’s what will happen.”

  “Do you really think it works that way—the big stuff, the things that matter?” He paused next to a video store and pulled her out of the throng.

  In the cool shade of the building, she turned to face him. “If it’s God’s will, it will work out.”

  “So it’s not up to us at all.” Jonah crossed his arms over his chest.

  Leah frowned. “Just because we can’t determine the details or know His timetable doesn’t mean we shouldn’t be assertive. We must be patient. God wants His children to be happy, to thrive while they serve Him.”

  Jonah shook his head. “I envy you, Leah. You have such faith. God must never have told you no.”

  Her heart tightened within her chest. Jonah’s pain was evidently still raw. She wanted so much to choose the right words—those that might be a salve for his wounded spirit. “It’s not that I’ve never been told no, Jonah. God has told me no plenty of times when what I asked for has nothing to do with my purpose.” She stepped closer and lifted her chin. “I once prayed for blond hair and freckles across my nose like my sister, and you can see that God ignored that request.”

  He burst out laughing. Several people passing on the sidewalk glanced in their direction. Leah tentatively reached for Jonah’s hand, yearning to offer comfort. “So now I pray for others more often than myself. And I try not to ask for things that would end up a burden…like praying for a hundred customers when our diner won’t even hold that many. And I stopped praying for more rain, or less rain, or a mild winter. I decided that God has the easy stuff like the weather and seasons already figured out.”

  Jonah leaned close and brushed a kiss across her forehead. “Danki, Leah. Tonight I will pray to regain some of my lost faith so I don’t envy yours so much. Let’s go sit a spell with my cousins on the square.”

  Leah saw her opportunity slipping away. “But that’s just it, Jonah. You can’t pray to gain faith. You just make up your mind to have it and go from there. God hears the prayers of those who believe, who trust Him with their future. If you’re sitting around waiting for your faith to come back, you’re wasting precious time.”

  Jonah’s eyes narrowed while he seemed to pull back. “I’ll give what you said some thought, but don’t beat me over the head, okay?” He nodded toward the street. “Let’s get back so they don’t start to worry.”

  She grasped his elbow lightly as they walked back to the town square, but all the while her mind was spinning with ideas.

  She decided to make it her business to help Jonah regain what he’d lost.

  Because to her, the idea of living apart from God was simply unthinkable.

  During the past two weeks, Matthew learned to move slowly around the horse that was his first client. And he couldn’t imagine a bigger challenge for his initial assignment as an independent trainer. An elderly neighbor had picked up a horse at the Sugar Creek kill pen for a small sum. Because they had no bidders at the recent auction, these horses would be euthanized if no one bought them. Sometimes they were too old or had some medical ailment or had proven too balky to be trained for riding or to pull a buggy. This particular Dutch harness horse fit the latter description. The farmer who’d brought the horse home from Sugar Creek entrusted Matthew with the retraining.

  He approached with a brush in one hand and his other palm open and flat. “Easy there,” he cooed and slowly reached for the animal’s flank. After ten days the gelding now allowed Matthew to groom, lead him around the yard with halter and rope, and would pull the old pony cart as long as it remained empty.

  Someone must have broken the animal’s spirit with a heavy-handed crop because the horse grew agitated whenever a human approached. Matthew couldn’t fathom how anyone could be cruel to a horse—such gentle, loyal, intelligent creatures. He hoped he never witnessed that kind of cruelty, otherwise he might have to suspend his pacifist convictions.

  “Are you making progress yet, son?” Simon’s words startled Matthew and the gelding equally.

  “Stay back, daed,” he instructed. “Don’t enter the stall until he settles down. He’s still mighty skittish around folk.” He calmed the gelding with soft words and a gentle touch.

  “How long will you work on Ben’s gelding?” Simon asked from behind the stall wall.

  “As long as it takes. He said to send word when he’s trained to the buggy. Then I’ll probably have to spend a week training Mr. Hartman when I’m done here.”

  Simon chuckled. “Not many folk have your talent or patience. But this could take the rest of summer. How will you figure out how much to charge Ben? This could turn out to be the most expensive ‘free’ horse Hartman ever got.” Simon laughed heartily while pulling his snow-white beard.

  Matthew attached the cross ties to keep the horse calm and stationary while he finished the grooming. “Ach, I thought I’d charge Mr. Hartman twenty-five dollars.”

  “Twenty-five dollars?” Simon squawked. “You would work all summer long for that paltry sum?”

  “I’ve seen his farm. It’s real small. Besides, his wife is too old to sit by the roadside selling extra produce anymore. They probably don’t have much spending cash.” Matthew glanced up to catch Simon’s astonished expression before it faded.

  “That’s real nice of you, and I’m proud to have a son with a generous heart. But I assure you Ben can afford to pay more than twenty-five dollars for trainin
g. Folk expect to pay a fair amount for a job well done. Don’t give away your services for free or too cheap, or people will think this is just a hobby and not your vocation.”

  “I won’t, daed, but I thought if I turn around Mr. Hartman’s horse, and he’s pleased with my work, he’ll tell everybody in five districts. Then I’ll get more work than I can handle.”

  Simon released a sound similar to an owl’s hoot. “That’s good thinking! You’ll soon be saving money for those acres across the street.”

  “Yup, plus I’ve got a good-paying contract coming up in two weeks. The ranch that runs the all-day trail rides hired me for six weeks of work. They bought a group of young saddlebreds they want trained and not broken to the trails.” Matt gently rubbed down the gelding’s forelegs with a damp cloth.

  “What’s the difference?” asked Simon.

  “With breaking you scare the horse into behaving submissively. With training you get to know the animal and learn its body language. You teach them signals and verbal commands; then they submit with their own will and not from fear. It makes for a better experience for the rider if the horse responds willingly. Nobody wants a mean, unhappy mount on a trail ride, especially inexperienced riders.” Matthew smiled as he worked tangles from the horse’s tail. “I’m going to bunk there during the week, but I’ll come home on Friday night and have the whole weekend off. That way I won’t miss anymore summer hayrides, volleyball parties, and cookouts like I have been.”

  Simon snorted. “I’m not so worried about your social life as I am your chores.”

  “Don’t worry. I will pay Henry from my earnings for any chores he does. This ranch pays even better than Macintosh Farms. And on the weekends, I’ll take many of his chores so he can go fishing or swimming.”

  Simon leaned over the stall gate. “You got your eye on some gal?”

  Matthew laughed. “Jah, but it’s too soon to tell if she can put up with me. Henry says I smell like a horse most days.”

  “Take a good scrub brush into the shower and maybe some of Leah’s raspberry shampoo before the next singing. And make sure you don’t whinny or neigh while you’re talking to her.”