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

by Mary Ellis

  A lock of hair blew across her face as she peered into his stony face. “What are you talking about?” The troublemaking lemonade churned in her belly.

  He reached over to tuck the lock beneath her kapp. “He wishes to court you, Leah, same as me. He has no idea where your heart lies and, frankly, neither do I. You have to choose—either you want to court me or you want your ego stroked by all your male fans. You need to make up your mind.”

  Anger coursed through her veins like vinegar. “I think you’re making a big deal out of a cup of lemonade.” She sounded brittle and spiteful as she shifted her weight from one hip to the other.

  “I don’t think so, not this time. Good night, Leah.” Jonah touched his hat brim and walked away, disappearing into the darkness.

  Leah was left with flushed cheeks and a burning sensation in her throat. She glanced around. Did anyone hear the dressing down? She would die of embarrassment if someone had. As the first of many tears to come streamed down her face, she hurried toward the house, abandoning her guests.

  Later, alone in her room, Leah tossed and turned as sleep refused to come. Finally, she got out of bed and padded to her desk. Lighting the kerosene lamp, she pulled pen and paper from the drawer and began an overdue letter to Emma. How she longed for her sister’s shoulder to cry on. Once her annoyance with Jonah had passed, loneliness and melancholy seeped in to fill the void. Without Emma to offer perspective, Leah felt strange in her own skin.

  Am I different from most Amish girls?

  Do I possess the same willful streak that almost led to Emma’s downfall?

  With a shaky hand, she began to write:

  Dear Emma,

  How I miss you and wish you lived closer. I’m afraid that without your advice I’ve made a mess of my life. The only thing I’m sure of right now is that I love working. Going to the diner to cook and serve the community gives me more joy than I thought possible.

  Why should I ever marry? Then I’d be forced to quit my job and cook for one man instead of dozens of friendly people each day. I fear keeping house for a family could never compare with running Leah’s Home Cooking. I would go from taking orders from daed to talking orders from an ehemann. Daed ordered me to withdraw my pie recipe from the baking competition. He refused to even discuss the matter with the bishop. He accused me of being vain and attention-seeking, and he demanded I write to Pillsbury to apologize for the confusion. Of course, mamm sided with him.

  I don’t believe God frowns on baking contests.

  If I never marry, I’ll eventually grow old enough to live my life without so many people telling me what to do. I will pray for God’s guidance and live only by His laws and no one else’s.

  Hurry home for a visit. I’m eager to hear about your wonderful life with Jamie.

  Your loving sister,

  Leah

  Despite leaving the riding stable early, Matthew had rumbled up the driveway well after the time he’d hoped. His young standardbred had kept a fast pace, but many miles stretched between Sugar Creek and the outskirts of Winesburg. Fortunately, many buggies still remained in the yard after the singing. With any luck, one of those buggies belonged to Martha Hostetler. He’d thought of her pretty face all week and heard her soft voice in his head each night as he fell asleep.

  Unfortunately, arriving home late didn’t excuse him from chores. His gelding needed to be walked to cool down and then brushed and fed. With a sinking heart, Matthew noticed that the water buckets hadn’t been cleaned and the feed stanchions were low. Henry must have anticipated his homecoming and started the weekend early. Matthew couldn’t blame him, but tonight with the singing in his backyard, he’d hoped to join part of the festivities.

  Matthew scrubbed the water buckets and refilled the troughs from the grain sack. After carrying in several bales to divide between the hayracks, he caught a sour smell coming from the sow’s pen. I’m not mucking stalls before I talk to Martha. Henry already says I smell like horses. I won’t sink down to hog status. He prodded the sow to her feet and then moved her and her seven piglets into an outdoor pen. Tomorrow would be soon enough to clean out her stall.

  As Matthew exited the barn’s back door, he spotted movement from the corner of his eye. Someone he couldn’t see was pushing Martha Hostetler on the swing that hung from the oak tree. Matthew, hoping to avoid people in his present condition, decided to skirt around the house the other way. He hopped onto the front porch and slipped through the front door as stealthily as possible. His mamm sat in her rocking chair with her Bible open on her lap. Wrapped in a flowery robe, with her hair peeking from beneath her kapp and half-moon glasses perched on her nose, she looked like a storybook character.

  “Guder nacht,” Julia said. “I’m afraid you’ve missed the singing.”

  “I got home as soon as I could. I’ll take a quick shower and get out to the snack table.” Better his mother thought him hungry than eager to see a girl.

  He grabbed a set of clean clothes from the ironed pile and fled into the bathroom. Ten minutes later, he toweled his hair, combed it back from his face, and grabbed his best straw hat on his way out the door. Leaving the towel on the porch rail, Matt prowled the dwindling crowd looking for a blue-eyed gal with long eyelashes and the sweetest smile.

  People hailed him with handshakes and slaps on the back. Many asked about his job at the riding stable. A few sought his advice about their problem horses. Matthew politely greeted his friends and promised to talk later. But right now he had only one thing on his mind—find Martha and ask to drive or walk her home. He’d dragged his feet for too long. Emma was right. Martha might fall for another guy while he was mustering his courage.

  Like a hornet, he buzzed through every area where people talked and laughed, but she wasn’t among them. Finally he spotted Rachel standing near the pasture fence with two other girls. “Rachel, do you know where your sister is?” he asked when he reached them.

  “Hi, Matt. I was about to ask you the same question.” Rachel leaned back against the rails.

  Matthew stared with confusion. “What?”

  “I can’t find Leah. One minute she was talking to Jonah Byler, and the next both had disappeared into thin air.” She cocked her head to the side. “He couldn’t have asked to drive her home since she lives here.” The three girls giggled ridiculously.

  “Have you seen Martha? Where is your sister?” He didn’t try to hide his irritation.

  Rachel’s silly grin disappeared. “Martha? John Yoder asked to drive her home and she said yes. I thought it was a stupid idea since we only live around the corner. Even if you take the road, you can be home in fifteen minutes.”

  Matthew barely heard Rachel’s words. A stallion had once kicked him in the gut, and it didn’t feel as bad as this. The air left his lungs while his shoulder muscles tightened into knots. “Are you sure?” he asked in a shaky voice.

  “Jah, she told me she was leaving.”

  Matthew retreated a few steps and then turned and ran. Through the inky darkness he ran toward the cornfield, heedless of tree branches or other hidden obstacles. He didn’t slow down even when he reached the long, uniform rows of corn. Down an endless row he ran, while cornstalks battered him from both sides. Twice he tripped and stumbled over rocks in the dirt, yet he kept going until he thought his heart would burst in his chest.

  At the end of the row Matthew fell to his knees, gasping for air. Purple thistle had scratched his face and hands, while a dozen hungry mosquitoes sought the scent of fresh blood. But the tears filling his eyes and running down his cheeks had nothing to do with cuts or scratches. Everything he’d worked for and saved and prayed for was lost to him.

  “Hi, Emma!” called Lily Davis. Her pickup stopped with a spin of driveway gravel.

  Emma sat on the three-sided porch at Hollyhock Farms snapping beans into a bowl for supper. Surrounded by tasteful rattan furniture grouped into three separate areas, she watched for Jamie. “Hullo, Lily,” called Emma. “Need a hand?�
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  “I sure do. I’ve brought tons of laundry. I had to come home—not a single clean thing to wear left in my closet or drawers.” Lily set her purse, backpack, laptop, and tote bag of books on the steps, along with her water bottle, bag of pretzels, iPod, cell phone, and two empty soda cans.

  English people never went anywhere without lots of stuff.

  “Let me help you.” Emma set down the bowl and hurried to the tailgate of her sister-in-law’s truck. She liked the tall, robust woman with her thick blond ponytail, Buckeyes ball cap, and blue jeans tucked into high riding boots. How Lily could sit down with such tight pants mystified Emma, but she loved her boundless energy and generous heart.

  “Thanks. Grab a bag but don’t throw your back out. Each one weighs a ton.”

  Emma reached to grasp a garbage bag when Lily shouted, “Wait! Before you lift that, are you sure you don’t have news you want to tell me?” Lily made an exaggerated motion of rocking something in her arms.

  Emma blushed. Lily was always dropping hints about being ready for a niece or nephew. “Mercy, Lily, I said you’ll be the second one I tell, so stop asking me that.” She tried to sound cross without much luck. Flinging the bag over her shoulder, Emma headed to the back door as Lily grabbed two bags at a time.

  The Davis home had a sunny laundry room off the kitchen with a long table for folding, an ironing board, and a clothesline for things not suited for the dryer. While Lily sorted clothes into piles of similar colors and fabrics, Emma perched on a tall stool. “How go your classes? I’ll bet you’re learning lots of interesting things.”

  Lily opened two cans of soda from the extra refrigerator and handed Emma one. “You’d be surprised how truly uninteresting most veterinary classes are. There is so much stuff to memorize about medications, treatment progressions, and infectious diseases. But soon I’ll be doing a lot more hands-on work with furry creatures—the reason I got into this exhausting program in the first place.” Lily hopped up on the wooden table. “Veterinary Orthopedics received the grant they’ve been waiting for to research degenerative hip diseases in dogs, mainly German shepherds and golden retrievers.”

  “What’s a grant?” Emma asked, taking a sip of Coke.

  “Basically it’s a pile of money to pay for a particular research project. In this case, we got funding to implant a new kind of artificial hip in dogs.”

  Emma thought she must not have heard Lily correctly. “Did you say dogs? You want to put fake hip bones into dogs?”

  Lily laughed as she shoved the first load of clothes in the washer. “Yeah, amazing, huh? We already have people getting replacement hips and knees with joint deterioration all the time. Pretty soon, when your dog needs a new body part, you can call up your vet and order a new hip.” Her long ponytail swung wildly as she picked clothes off the floor.

  “Amazing? I think it’s the stupidest thing I’ve heard all week—no wait, all month,” said Emma.

  Lily paused for a moment with the cup of detergent aloft in one hand. Then she poured it in and closed the lid. She wiped her hands on a T-shirt and turned to face her brother’s wife. “Why would you think it’s stupid, Emma? Our research will extend the lives of dogs with hip dysplasia that would otherwise have to be put to sleep.” She talked as though she were choosing her words carefully.

  “You mentioned the key word—dogs. These are pets that you’re planning to put fake hips into. How many people live in constant pain because they don’t have good insurance or enough money to get these high-fallutin medical gizmos?”

  “I see your point, but I’m training to become a vet, not an MD. This grant has nothing to do with clinical studies for humans or the limits of insurance policies or anything like that.” She placed one hand on her own perfectly healthy hip bone.

  “But that’s just it—all the money that gets wasted on ridiculous research so that rich folk can indulge their fancy pedigreed dogs. I’ve seen tourists with dogs in baby carriers, dogs wearing knitted coats, and dogs getting expensive grooming and even spa treatments while the rest of the world doesn’t get enough food to eat. Whole villages die of diseases that could be saved with one case of inexpensive antibiotics.”

  “Well, I can tell you’ve been attending Mom’s missionary support group,” Lily said, not hiding her tone of disdain. She chose not to mention that Amish ladies knitted those dog coats for tourists to buy.

  “Jah, I have. I never realized how most of the world suffers while this country wastes millions of dollars on junk.” Emma also took a defensive posture.

  Lily sighed. “I know you like animals, Emma. I’ve seen you nurse sick sheep with poultices and injections and add supplements to their diets to improve their health.”

  “I do like animals. My family takes in every stray dog or cat dropped off in the neighborhood, but Amish folk know where to draw a sensible line. When a dog’s hips wear out, he should be put to sleep.” Emma was almost shouting.

  The two women stared at each other as an uncomfortable silence spun out. Two different cultures clashed over the unlikely topic of animals.

  Finally, Lily spoke. “Perhaps when I’m done with my expensive college education, I will have gained some of your innate common sense, but in the meantime I’m honored to have been chosen for this program, however stupid you think it is.” Lily fled the laundry room in tears.

  Emma was left standing on the tile floor as regret filled her. She had allowed her temper to flare in a hateful way and had made her bold, independent sister-in-law cry—something she wouldn’t have thought possible.

  If Emma could have found a hole big enough, she would have crawled inside it.

  Leah wouldn’t have thought that a person could experience so many emotions during a six-week period, yet she’d known the joy of new love, anger when Jonah stormed out of the singing, shame when forced to examine her behavior, and finally sorrow when Jonah didn’t write or stop at the diner. He’d demanded that she make a choice between her bevy of fans or him.

  She’d thought him obstinate and controlling, but he had been right. She had been using Steven, Daniel, and John’s affections to stroke her ego in a vain and prideful fashion. How did a simple Amish girl turn into a competitive, attention-demanding woman? Each time she remembered how flattered she’d been by those boys she felt embarrassed all over again.

  It had taken her only a few days to cool down, and when rational thought returned, the answer was clear—she wished to be courted by Jonah Byler. And she told her three admirers that the next time they came to the diner for breakfast.

  Once they were seated with menus before them, she announced, “As much as we appreciate your business here, you three can stop all your foolishness…my heart resides elsewhere.”

  Not only had they not looked surprised, but Daniel slapped her on the back. “God bless you, Leah, and the lucky man,” he said.

  Steven added, “Can’t blame a guy for trying, can ya?”

  “I pretty much had that figured out a long time ago,” had been John’s reply. Apparently, she had been the only one wearing blinders.

  For the next two weeks she planned her apology to Jonah and made sure she always had Peach Parfait Supreme pie on hand. But after she’d taken the second stale pie home to the sow, she began to think Jonah realized his folly in courting a vain, stubborn woman. He hadn’t come to a singing, social event, or a preaching service since he’d left the Miller farm in a huff. Instead of helping to repair his fractured relationship with the Lord, she had made his alienation worse.

  Leah didn’t think anything could hurt as much as a broken heart. The wish that she’d written to Emma about—to spend the rest of her life cooking, baking, and serving meals—had come true. She would become a mere observer of couples and families, of those who had found true love. Yet Leah wasn’t ready to add self-pity to her long list of character flaws. When the breakfast customers cleared out and her tables were clean, she wrote a note of apology to Jonah for her behavior and asked him to come to th
e hayride Friday night at the Hostetler farm. That is, if he was still speaking to her.

  That night she prayed to be delivered from her selfishness and to be given another chance with the tenderhearted dairy farmer. And although she felt she was undeserving, God took pity on her. When she arrived at the Hostetlers, Jonah was sitting on the hitching rail.

  “Guder nacht, Miss Miller.”

  “Danki for coming tonight…and for forgiving me,” she said, forcing herself to look at him.

  “Danki for inviting me…and extending the olive branch. I was hot tempered,” he said.

  “I was shallow and vain.”

  “I was jealous and impatient.” The corners of his mouth turned up into a grin. “Perhaps we’re not suited to anybody else but each other.”

  Leah’s dimples deepened as she smiled. “Maybe we would be doing the rest of the district a favor if we court.” She walked over to him. “Have you been waiting long?” she asked, seeing plenty of buggies already there.

  “Since I first read your letter,” he said, shrugging his shoulders.

  It took Leah a moment before she grinned from ear to ear. “My, I hope Mrs. Hostetler took pity on you and brought out food and a blanket. You should have received my letter days ago.”

  “It was worth any physical discomfort. Ready to ride in the hay? They’re loading up right now.” He hooked a thumb toward the barn.

  “I’m as ready as I ever will be.” She didn’t mention she’d taken two antihistamine pills. She would rather chance falling asleep than sneezing continuously. As they walked behind the barn where young people were climbing into the hay wagon, Leah didn’t feel like the giddy teenager as before with Jonah. The past weeks of soul-searching had matured her. Hopefully, the changes would stick.