Never Far From Home (The Miller Family 2)

by Mary Ellis

  Then Joseph and his sister walked up to the table. He selected one chocolate chip cookie and two Apple Betty bars, while Elizabeth did the same. Emma felt her back muscles relax while she fixed a small plate of cut-up vegetables and Rice Krispies squares. She glanced around for Sarah but saw no familiar faces in the crowd.

  “Miss Miller, would you like to sit with us?” Joseph asked from over her shoulder. “We saved some hay bales outside with our coats. It’s nice out tonight.”

  Emma craned her neck to scan the crowd, but she still saw no Sarah. “Jah sure, danki.” She followed them out of the barn and shared a hay bale with his sister.

  Elizabeth Kauffman was also tall and thin with a lovely smile and dark brown eyes. Both siblings had silky, shiny black hair. Most of Elizabeth’s was hidden beneath her kapp, but it definitely was Joseph’s best feature.

  For several minutes the three sat quietly eating their snacks and enjoying the nighttime serenade of owls, crickets, and tree frogs.

  “I love those sounds,” Emma said when she had finished the snack on her plate.

  “Very soon the world will become silent again. The first frost is coming,” said Elizabeth with sadness edging her words.

  “Good. I’ll be able to get a good night’s sleep without all that racket,” said Joseph, not sharing their sentiments. “Say, did you make these, Miss Miller?” He bit into his second dessert bar.

  “Why do you ask?” Emma returned the query. “Did you break a tooth?”

  He laughed and then shook his head. “No, I think they’re the best I’ve ever tasted.”

  Emma snickered. “They’re okay if you have plenty of cider to wash them down. I think they’re a little dry.” She tipped up her cup and drained the contents.

  “I’ll get us both refills.” Elizabeth sprang to her feet and grabbed Emma’s cup without hesitation.

  Once the girl disappeared into the barn, Emma asked the question that had been bothering her. “What were you saying about your pa not meaning to cause trouble?”

  Joseph studied her and seemed to choose his words carefully. “He told your father that you had an English friend—one who wasn’t female.”

  The night chorus crept in around them as though even the creatures waited for her reaction. “I see. That’s how my daed found out about James. He’s another sheep farmer from Charm.” She tried to remember the conversation with her father that night to no avail.

  “This is your Rumschpringe, Miss Miller, same as it’s mine. You’ve got a right to make new friends, even if they’re English.” He set his empty plate on the ground. “How will you ever know what you want if you don’t know what’s out there?”

  Emma nodded in agreement, but she doubted her folks saw things the same way.

  Elizabeth was headed back from the barn with two brimming cups of cider. Joseph spoke in a low voice only Emma could hear. “I hope we can be friends, Miss Miller. It would be nice to talk to a gal that ain’t my sister.” His earnest brown eyes met her gaze.

  Emma noticed that his olive skin was sallow and his long limbs seemed out of proportion. But there was something endearing about his bashfulness, as though he would be incapable of deception. “All right, Joseph. I don’t have many friends either. And a person can always use one more.”

  His grin made his thin face seem a bit fuller. She offered a tiny smile too and then said, “So I guess you should start calling me Emma.”

  That night Emma knelt by her bed for prayers, but then she decided to read some Scripture before sleep. Lighting a candle, she flipped through her mamm’s worn Bible. Her eyes settled on Proverbs 10:23-24: “Doing wrong is fun for a fool, but living wisely brings pleasure to the sensible. The fears of the wicked will be fulfilled; the hopes of the godly will be granted.”

  She wondered which category God would put her in.

  Leah certainly had been right about one thing. The weeks before mamm’s surgery were so busy, Emma had no time to pine over James or wonder what he was doing on campus.

  Julia was no longer able to get out of bed on her own. She had to be helped to the bathroom or to the kitchen table at mealtimes. She hated being an invalid, by her description, and would only allow someone to carry her to the kitchen for supper. Breakfast and lunch she ate from a tray while propped up in bed.

  Leah did all the cooking, baking, ironing, and sewing—the latter two tasks could be accomplished in the sunny front room with Julia for company.

  Emma oversaw her flock, fed the chickens and gathered eggs, helped Leah with cleaning and laundry, and spent every other available minute spinning, weaving, grinding dried flowers for dye packets, and assembling grapevine wreaths. Mrs. Dunn had given her a large order for the coming holiday season. Emma would have to rise earlier and sleep less if she had any hope of filling it, but that was fine with her because more work meant less time dreaming of a blue-eyed Englischer who had proposed and then not written to her in two weeks.

  Despite her pain, Julia always mustered a patient smile for either daughter, who often came for domestic advice. Emma usually carried in the lunch tray, bringing her own along to eat with mamm because her chores often kept her outdoors. During their shared lunchtime, Julia never asked questions about courting, and Emma mentioned only that she had enjoyed the singing and making new friends. Both seemed grateful for the peaceful truce.

  Today, though, the Miller world would once again be turned upside down—the day of Julia’s surgery. Mr. and Mrs. Lee, their English neighbors, arrived before dawn to drive Julia and Simon to the Canton hospital. Julia wouldn’t permit any of her kinner to “waste the day sitting around a waiting room,” as she put it. She ordered Leah, Matthew, and Henry to school as usual, and left Emma in charge at home.

  But when Mr. Lee and daed carried Julia to the Lees’ van, Emma begged to come along without any success. What if something happens to mamm? What if I don’t get a chance to tell her how much I love her? Memories of sharp words and glowering expressions plagued Emma all morning. After they had left for the hospital and her siblings had gone to school, Emma was alone in the quiet house with recrimination and regret as her sole companions. Only a sharp rapping interrupted her ceaseless worries.

  Aunt Hannah seldom waited for someone to open the door, so she marched in with determination, carrying a bag of dried flowers. She spotted Emma’s red-rimmed eyes before even shrugging off her cape. “Are you worried about your mamm? Me too. That’s why I came over as soon as Phoebe left for school. Fretting never solved a thing. It only shows God how little faith we have. And that’s the last thing we need.”

  Emma dabbed her nose and then looked at her aunt carefully. Dark smudges hollowed out the skin beneath her eyes. “You don’t look like you slept very well, either.”

  Hannah hugged Emma’s shoulders tightly. “True enough, but I know she will be all right. In fact, she’ll be better than ever with her brand-new knees.”

  Emma returned the embrace and felt better having someone near. “This won’t be the last of it,” she said. “Once physical therapy restores her legs, mamm will have to endure operations on both feet, one at a time.” A few tears slipped from beneath her lashes.

  Hannah reached over and brushed them away. “If I know my sister, she didn’t plan to run in one of those marathons anyway. Everything she loves is right here, and all she still wishes to accomplish she will be able to do, given a little time. Don’t worry about your mamm, Emma. She’s stronger than you think.”

  “I hope so. And I hope she knows how much I love her.” Emma spoke the words, but she couldn’t look her aunt in the eye.

  Hannah lifted Emma’s chin until she met her gaze. “She knows, liewi, she knows. Now let’s stop moping and get to work. I hear you’ve been busy in the loft, filling a big order. I’ve got wool from my last shearing in the buggy. We’ll work together today and every day while Julia’s in the hospital. I’ll spin the wool into yarn while you weave on the loom or make wreaths. By the time she gets home from the rehab cen
ter, we’ll have plenty to deliver to Mrs. Dunn.” Hannah already was settling her shawl back over her shoulders. “Whatever I would’ve earned I was planning to put toward the hospital bill anyway, so if we work together we might be able to pay the thing off in one fell swoop.”

  Both women laughed. “You overestimate my abilities on the loom, Aunt Hannah.”

  “And you underestimate what two Miller women can do when they put their heads together. Grab that sweet wool poncho you made and let’s get busy.”

  They walked into the crisp October day arm in arm. The breeze was cool, but the sun still felt warm on their backs. Yellow, red, and orange leaves swirled in eddies around their feet, while the crystalline blue sky overhead made a person forget that the season would soon change once more. A sharp wind would bring cold, pelting rain with chilly nights that seeped into the bones and thinned the blood. Then finally the snow would come, covering the fields and meadows with a blanket of soft, peaceful white. But today was perfect, and niece and aunt enjoyed the bright sunshine.

  Each day for the next week, Emma and Hannah worked the entire time the kinner were at school. They made packets of dye and festive Christmas wreaths, spun raw wool into skeins of yarn, and wove shawls and scatter rugs on the loom. They might not have earned enough to pay off all the medical bills, but they forged a bond between them that nothing in this world could ever break.

  Late October

  At dawn Hannah lowered the purple martin house with the pulley Seth had rigged for her. With her bushel basket, stiff brush, sponge, and bucket of bleach water ready, she decided to clean out their summer quarters. The birds had flown south a while ago, abandoning Holmes County for a sunnier climate. They had done their job of eating the insects that would have devoured her garden. Hannah brushed the decayed nesting material into the basket, trying not to inhale spores of mold and mildew. She would miss the purple martins playfully gliding into their home, but at least the majestic red-tailed hawks and turkey vultures had stayed behind for the past few winters, filling the winter sky with something to watch.

  Hannah’s thoughts turned to her sister and her dear niece during the mindless chore. Julia’s operation had gone well. She’d struggled through a week at the rehab facility in so much agony the therapists doubted she would be able to continue. But stubborn, determined Julia agreed to higher doses of pain medication and had prevailed. She was walking again—slowly and clumsily with a walker, but walking nonetheless. She would continue her rehabilitation at home, surrounded by her family. A physical therapist had stopped by to teach Simon and Emma what needed to be done, and Julia was following the regimen to the letter.

  “Danki, Lord,” Hannah murmured for perhaps the one hundredth time since Julia came home. With her sister on the road to recovery, Hannah’s thoughts returned to the one sorrow she couldn’t seem to forget. Her nightly prayers for a boppli of her own had gone unanswered. She and Seth had been married for a year with normal newlywed enthusiasm, yet no pregnancy had resulted. How she longed to experience the thrill of new life growing inside her. Would she never know the joy of holding their child in her arms? Each time she looked at the oak cradle, hand-carved by Seth’s dawdi and used by generations of Millers, her heart sank. Finally, she’d asked Seth to store it in the attic to remove the constant reminder that she was barren. Someday she would pass it on to Emma, upon her marriage.

  Seth had reminded her about Zechariah and Elizabeth, a couple long past childbearing years, and yet God granted them a son to bring them joy in their old age. Hannah had often turned to Luke 1 to read about the story of John the Baptist. The Scripture used to console her, because it reminded her that in God all things were possible.

  But lately Hannah had come to the realization that her nightly prayers hadn’t gone unanswered. God did answer her—He had said no. He, who with infinite wisdom saw all things at once, had chosen a different path for her. And it was about time she accepted His will and appreciated the grace she’d already been shown. Phoebe was thriving. The child had come to accept her during the past year as her own mother. Gentle, affectionate, and obedient, Phoebe was everything a mother could ask for in a daughter. And Hannah loved her so. She also loved Seth more than she thought possible. God had given her a second opportunity to love. She should stop wallowing in self-pity, dwelling on things not meant to be, and start looking for ways to serve others.

  Hannah finished cleaning the birdhouse, but she left it down for the winter to discourage undesirable birds from moving in. She hurried inside to wash and change clothes before going to Julia’s. With Phoebe gone for the day at school, she and Emma had planned a long-overdue trip to Sugar Creek. Both needed to deliver orders to A Stitch in Time. Emma had created so many lovely Christmas wreaths Mrs. Dunn might have to expand her store. They both had skeins of yarn, bags of wool, and handmade woolens to sell on consignment. Hannah was amazed how much Emma had accomplished since Julia came home from the hospital. The girl must never sleep—which was why her sister had insisted that Emma take a day off from the farm. On Saturday, Simon planned to drive Leah to town to eat in a restaurant—a popular tourist spot—for her much-deserved break. But today was for Emma, and Hannah planned to make it special.

  Half an hour later, Hannah pulled into the Miller driveway and parked her buggy under the tree. “Guder mariye,” she called to Simon and Emma.

  “Hi, Aunt,” Emma said. “What do you think?” The girl flourished her hand toward the well-packed wagon. “Daed hitched up the Belgians instead of the standardbreds since I had so much to deliver to Sugar Creek.”

  “I think you’ve been busier than any bee I’ve ever seen,” Hannah said, looking at the amazing assortment.

  Simon pulled a tarp over the contents and secured it tightly. “You let your aunt drive the team,” he instructed. “She has more experience. This is different than driving your little pony cart.” He finished with the ropes and then settled his gaze on Hannah. “Guder mariye, Hannah. You’re looking well.” He offered a small smile.

  “Ach, my cooking might be improving. I’ve put on a bit of weight.”

  “My bruder never complains about your meals, nor does he fill a sack with leftovers when he’s here. You must be getting the hang of it.”

  Emma stood with the reins, looking rather impatient. “Please get in, Aunt Hannah, and let’s be off.”

  Hannah stepped into the wagon, chuckling over Simon’s uncharacteristic teasing.

  “Remember what I said at breakfast,” he warned his daughter.

  “Jah, daed. Please don’t worry. No one will steal my purse. I’ll watch it very carefully after Mrs. Dunn pays me.” Emma gave Simon a peck on the cheek and climbed up onto the seat.

  Simon stood blushing, embarrassed by the display of affection. “Enjoy yourselves today and don’t scrimp on lunch. Eat at some place nice. We will be fine here.” He demanded this with the same tone of voice as though ordering Curley out of the garden.

  Hannah glanced over her shoulder at Simon, trying to suppress a grin as the wagon reached the end of the drive and turned onto the road.

  Emma noticed Hannah’s reaction however. “Jah, daed’s been in a better mood now that mamm is walking again. She has been sitting at the kitchen table every afternoon, teaching Leah plenty of new recipes. You can’t believe what a fine cook Leah is turning into.”

  “I’m sure he’s very proud of you too,” Hannah said. “I’ve never seen such beautiful work as those wreaths.” She glanced back at the covered wagon.

  Emma folded her hands in her lap. “Danki. I hope Mrs. Dunn feels the same.”

  Once they reached Sugar Creek and Hannah pulled back the tarp, they discovered Mrs. Dunn more than felt the same. The shopkeeper walked around the wagon twice, gushing with praise for Emma’s handiwork. She lifted one wreath after another, insisting she’d never seen any finer. After her inspection, the three women went to her office while her two helpers unloaded the wagon. The contents would be sorted, counted, and then weighed in th
e back storeroom.

  Once cups of tea had been passed around, Mrs. Dunn stated her business proposition. “I’d like to pay you thirty-five dollars outright for each wreath. I know I can sell every one of them and make a profit. I’ll take the woolens on consignment as usual, and I’ll also buy all the dye packets and skeins of yarn. Your work is exceptional, Emma.”

  “Thank you, ma’am.”

  Then Mrs. Dunn remembered there were two women in her office. “Excuse me, Hannah. I didn’t mean to slight you.”

  “No offense taken, Audrey,” Hannah murmured with a smile.

  “The quality of your wool is excellent, as usual,” the shopkeeper continued. “I’ll take yours at our agreed price and the woolens on consignment as well. Your handmade items have the smoothest, tightest weave.” Mrs. Dunn smiled warmly at her two favorite suppliers.

  “Aunt Hannah’s weaving is much better than mine,” said Emma, focusing on her hands in her lap.

  “But yours improves with every piece you complete,” Hannah said. She reached for Emma’s hand to give it a squeeze.

  “By the way, Emma,” Mrs. Dunn said, taking a sip of tea. “What do you hear from the Davis boy? His dad delivered their load of wool instead of him. Last time I saw Jamie, he was going on and on about a horse he’d planned to buy for you.”

  Emma blushed to the roots of her hair. “I haven’t seen him lately. He’s moved to Wooster to attend college.”

  Hannah set her teacup on its saucer with a clatter. “He purchased the horse on Emma’s behalf, not as a gift,” she clarified. “Emma makes regular payments to him and will continue to do so until the horse is paid in full.” Hannah knew Simon wouldn’t appreciate false rumors floating around, not even in the English world. Sugar Creek was a small town.