“Aren’t you hungry?” Fannie Mae asked her.
She forced herself to take a bite. “I don’t eat as much when it’s this warm.”
“Heard it’s one of our hottest summers ever.”
“Summer is always hot and humid in Lancaster County,” Naomi piped up. “I think spring was only one week long.”
The men were silent as they wolfed down their food. They’d been working since sunup in the fields and would toil more hours until they were done. Each worked his own farm, then helped others in the community as needed.
While they’d worked, the women had prepared food for this meal and supper and would continue to can the vegetables and fruit that had been harvested earlier. And Miriam and her friends felt their kitchens were every bit as hot as the sun-broiled fields their men labored in.
No one complained. At least not out loud. Summer and fall were the busiest seasons, yet offered the most proof of God’s abundance. And who wouldn’t be grateful for that?
Soon enough the bitter winds and snow of winter would be here, and the arduous schedule would ease. Farmers would spend their time making repairs on equipment, and their fraas would sew and patch clothing and quilt to their heart’s content. All would be grateful for the hard work of raising food and preserving it come winter.
As appetites eased there was more conversation, mostly about the possibility of rain and what crops should be planted next year.
“So how long will you be visiting, Mark?” Amos, owner of the farm next door, asked.
“Just a day or two,” he said, passing a bowl of potato salad to the diner next to him.
Miriam glanced at John to see his reaction, but his face didn’t reveal what he was thinking.
What she’d give to be a fly on the wall when the two men talked later. She was dying to know if John had talked to Mark about the farm.
Then she chided herself. It wasn’t her business. It really wasn’t. But her heart ached for John because she knew how much he wanted to pass the farm down to family. But Mark was not interested in farming. Was John thinking about selling it? It made sense that he would seek advice from Mark since he would inherit the farm at John’s passing. He loved Mark so. That had been so obvious through the years. He’d doted on him when he came for visits in the summer and talked about him often. The Amish loved family and he’d only been blessed with one sohn who hadn’t wanted to stay here.
Mark was his last hope. His only hope.
Big helpings of strawberry shortcake were served for dessert. More cold water and iced tea was drunk. Then the men headed back to the fields and the women packed up their baskets and said good-bye before hurrying home to finish their chores.
“I’ll go change,” Mark said as he stood. “I have some work clothes in the guest room.”
“It’s not a guest room,” John said. “It’s your room. Always has been.”
“Of course.” Mark paused beside his grandfather’s chair, laid a hand on his shoulder. “Shouldn’t you go inside and rest for a while? I bet you’ve been out here since the sun came up.”
John started to protest, then he nodded. “I think I will go inside for a bit. We’ll talk later.”
Miriam frowned as she watched John make his way into the house. He seemed to move slower, more painfully.
“How long has he been like this? Limping because of the arthritis?”
She jerked as she realized Mark had come to stand beside her. “It’s hard to say. He tries to hide how much he hurts. I’d say since last winter.”
“I see. He never told me.”
She looked at him, then away. “Well, it gets worse as people get older, from what I’ve seen.” She packed the now-empty plastic containers she’d brought into her basket.
“I never think of him getting older. I worried when he wrote me about coming for harvest and then he didn’t answer my phone calls. So I came.” He shoved his hands into his pockets and looked out at the fields. “I’m going to go change my clothes and see what I can do to help in the fields. I might as well do something.”
Miriam nodded. “That would be gut. We all help each other here.”
Mark picked up the basket and carried it inside the house, then went upstairs. Miriam busied herself washing glasses and straightening the kitchen. When he came downstairs, he was dressed in well-worn pants and a chambray shirt that brought out the blue of his eyes. A baseball cap covered his dense black hair. He nodded at her, slipped on his sunglasses, and left the house.
Miriam glanced around the kitchen and then, as comfortable as family, found herself examining the contents of the refrigerator. It didn’t look like there was anything prepared for supper. And she doubted that either of the men would feel like cooking after working in the fields. So she set about gathering ingredients and peeling vegetables, and in no time she was sliding a casserole into the oven. Soon the kitchen was filled with delicious aromas.
“Something smells gut.”
She turned and smiled at John. “Hope you don’t mind I made myself at home in your kitchen.”
He grinned. “Any day you want to take it over, be my guest.”
“I figured you and Mark might be too tired to cook supper after working in the fields. Everything’s done and ready to eat when you are.”
A rumble of thunder sounded overhead.
The back door opened and Mark stepped inside, shaking off rain like a dog. “It’s really coming down out there.”
Miriam looked out the window. She hadn’t thought to watch the weather. Now she’d have to walk home in the rain.
“I didn’t see a buggy outside,” Mark said as he came to stand at the window beside her.
“I walked over. It’s not far.”
“It is when there’s lightning. I’ll give you a ride home.”
“Nee, you really—”
“I insist.”
“Me, too,” John said. “Miriam stayed and cooked us supper,” he told Mark.
“Then I’m definitely giving you a ride home. Unless you’d like to stay and eat with us first?”
Miriam felt color creeping up into her cheeks. “Uh, nee, I should be getting home to help Mamm.”
“Then I’m ready when you are. I’ll be out in the car.”
Miriam checked to make sure she’d turned off the oven, glanced around the kitchen, and found it spotless. “I’ll be seeing you tomorrow then, John. Call if you need anything.”
“Danki for the help.”
She picked up the basket and hurried to the front door. When she’d started over to help today, she’d had no idea she’d get to see Mark. And certainly she’d had no idea he’d be driving her home.
God certainly had surprises in store some days, didn’t He?
Mark wasn’t being entirely altruistic by offering Miriam a ride home.
He turned the air conditioning up to full blast in his BMW and reveled in being cool for the first time since he’d stepped out of the car hours earlier. Summer was brutal in Lancaster County. He’d felt like he was under a broiler when he was working out in the fields. And his muscles ached after just a couple hours of work.
Miriam opened the door and slid inside. “Oh, my,” she breathed. “Air conditioning.”
He chuckled. “You don’t have that in buggies, do you?”
“Nee.”
Mark leaned over to show her how to move the vent near her so that it blew cool air on her face, and felt her tense at the closeness. But when he looked at her, she smiled and thanked him. Had he imagined her reaction?
He started the engine. “Shall I take the long way home?”
She laughed, a full, throaty sound that made him glance at her. Her blue eyes sparkled and her creamy complexion flushed pink. He’d thought she was pretty as a teen, but now realized she’d grown into an attractive woman.
He backed out of the drive, turned the opposite way, and enjoyed her laughter.
“Oh, this feels wunderbaar.” She sighed. “Fans just don’t do what an air
conditioner can. If I had a car, I’d live in it during the summer.”
“They make air conditioners for the house, too.”
“You’re right. How silly of me.”
A brief glance showed her cheeks were stained with embarrassment.
He winced. “Sorry, I was teasing you.”
“Oh.”
“The Englisch always go on about how they’d miss television. Or having a telephone inside the house. I think they’d miss their air conditioning in the summer the most.”
“Especially if they live in Lancaster County.”
“For schur.”
“So you remember some Pennsylvania Dietsch?”
“Some. If you don’t use it, you lose it, and there isn’t much opportunity in my day-to-day life.”
“John was glad to see you. So you’re just here for a day or two?” she asked, remembering what he’d said at lunch.
“I head back in the morning.” He slowed and peered at an ice cream stand beside the road. “Wow, that place is still in business?”
“Ya, it’s the best.”
“Do you want a cone? If you don’t have the time, I can stop on my way back.”
“I’d love a cone.”
“Strawberry, right?”
She stared at him. “How did you remember that?”
“A good memory’s a must in my line of work.” He pulled into the parking lot and left the car running while he got out and bought the cones.
“This is as good as I remember,” he told her as he ate his cone.
“Even better when it’s not melting all over your hands in the heat,” she said.
“I hope my grandfather didn’t overdo it in the heat today.” Mark finished his cone and wiped his mouth with a paper napkin. “It’s too bad my dad didn’t decide to stay and help with the farm.” He shrugged. “But then who knows where I’d be right now?”
He glanced at her. She’d stopped licking her cone. “Uh, you’re dripping.” He handed her a napkin from the stack he’d been given.
“I think I’ve had enough,” she said, frowning at it.
“I’ll finish it for you. I’m a generous kind of guy.”
Miriam grinned, handed it to him, and wiped her hands with the napkin. “So you’re happy doing your work?”
He paused. “Sure. Why wouldn’t I be? I make good money.”
“That doesn’t equate with being happy.”
“No, it doesn’t. But I guess I’m as happy as anyone I know.” It sounded lame even to him. Miriam folded her hands and continued to look at him. She’d always had the most direct stare. She still did.
“Didn’t someone once say that a person is only as happy as he decides to be?” He finished the cone, wiped his hands, and started the car.
“I’m sorry. I’ve made you uncomfortable.”
“Don’t be silly.”
“I imagine you’re gut at your job.”
“Because of the car I drive?”
She shook her head. “Nee, I think you found something you love and you work hard at it.”
Mark winced inwardly. Had his grandfather told her how often he’d said he was too busy to visit because he had a big case?
“I remember how you used to climb up into the hay loft and read those big books when you visited in the summers.”
Mark laughed. “I was kind of a nerd.”
“Why should reading make you a nerd?”
He couldn’t help smiling at how quaint the word sounded the way she said it. There was something about the precise way many of the local Amish spoke that sounded faintly British to him.
“I don’t know. My friends were reading comic books and Play—” he stopped. “Uh, adult magazines.”
“I know the one you mean,” she said primly, but he saw her lips twitch. “I’ve seen it at the store in town. I’m Amish, not blind.”
He chuckled and found himself sorry to realize they were approaching her home. He’d always enjoyed talking to her.
“Thanks for everything you did today,” he said as he pulled into the drive and stopped the car. “Especially cooking supper.”
“I enjoyed it. And the drive and ice cream.” She opened the door and heat poured in. “Especially the air conditioning,” she said ruefully. With a sigh she got out, then turned back. “Mark? When you talk to your grandfather, please consider what he has to say. Listen with your heart.” She closed the door and hurried away before he could ask her what she meant.
Listen with your heart.
Thoughtful, he drove back to the farm and parked beside the barn. His car looked incongruous next to the weathered building.
“Gut, you’re home,” John said when he went inside the house. “Hungry? Miriam’s supper is ready.”
“Yes, thanks. Sorry it took longer than it should. I was enjoying the air conditioning in the car after such a hot day.”
“And talking to Miriam, eh? The two of you always used to have such long conversations.”
Mark poured a glass of iced tea and sat at the table. “She wasn’t like the girls I knew. She didn’t simper or flirt or act silly.”
John nodded. “Miriam is a wunderbaar maedel.”
“I’ve been worried about you since I got your letter. You’ve never written me asking me to come help.”
“I’ve been thinking about the farm,” he said, staring off into the distance. “I can’t run it like I used to. It’s time to talk about its future.”
“So you’re going to sell it?”
John looked shocked. “Nee, I don’t want to do that. It’s been in this family for generations.”
“What else can you do? Dad doesn’t want it.”
“And what about you, Mark?”
“Me? I’m an attorney, not a farmer.”
“But you could be.”
Mark stared at him, confused. “Could be what? A farmer?”
“Schur. I remember how much you enjoyed helping each summer you visited.”
“I did. But I’ve made a life for myself. I’m already trying big cases at the firm. I bought a condo.”
John leaned back in his chair and studied him with faded blue eyes. “And are you happy, Grosssohn?”
It was the second time he’d been asked that today. He didn’t think he was walking around looking unhappy because he wasn’t. So why was his grandfather asking him the same question Miriam had?
“Of course.”
“There’s no ‘of course’ about it. You are or you’re not.”
Mark spread his hands. “I don’t know what else to say.”
John leaned forward. “Say you’ll take over the farm, Mark. Say yes to your heritage.”
Four
Miriam wondered how the talk John wanted to have with Mark had gone.
She didn’t want to intrude on their visit, but she was eager to hear what happened. Had John talked to Mark about his concern about the future of the farm?
And yes, she had to admit that she would enjoy seeing Mark again for purely personal reasons. Her girlhood crush was alive and well, as she’d found out when they went for a drive the day before.
Miriam set out for John’s house with a basket of food, but was doomed to disappointment when she saw that Mark’s car wasn’t parked there.
John raised a hand and waved at her as he sat on the front porch.
“Has Mark gone home?” she asked, trying to sound casual as she climbed the steps to the porch.
He nodded. “Told me he had to get back to work.”
She sat down in one of the rockers. “What did you say to him?”
John frowned and shook his head. “I told him I wanted him to take over the farm.”
“You did? What did he say?” She felt her heart racing. It would be a dream come true if he did.
John shook his head. “He feels his life is in the city, practicing law.” He sighed. “I’m hoping he’ll think about it.”
“I hope so, too, John.”
She watched him gaze out at h
is fields. It had been another long day of harvesting and he looked so tired.
“I’m schur he’ll give it a lot of thought. Mark is a responsible person. And he cares about you.”
John nodded. “I hope he’ll consider the Amish side of his heritage. But what if he doesn’t feel he has any here? After all, my sohn, Mark’s dat, didn’t.”
“It’s in God’s hands now.”
He gave her a gentle smile. “Wise words from the young. But I expected as much from a teacher.”
She gave a self-deprecating shrug. “Being a teacher doesn’t make me wise. I’m repeating words you’ve said to me yourself.”
John raised his brows. “I did? Well, I wonder how wise I’d be if I had a young man’s memory.”
A buggy passed by on the road and its occupants waved. They waved back.
Miriam stood. “I should be getting home to help Mamm with the kinner. Eat the supper I brought you and get some rest, John. I’m schur you’ll hear from Mark soon.”
“Gut-n-owed, Miriam. Danki again for supper.”
“My pleasure, John. Enjoy it.”
She walked home, enjoying the scent of honeysuckle climbing fences, and thought about their conversation. She hoped it would be gut news for him. But she wondered if Mark could give up the life he had in the Englisch world. Few Englisch converted to the Amish church and the Plain life.
Fewer still stayed.
John’s dream of his grosssohn coming home might look impossible, but she’d learned that nothing was impossible for Him.
Helping her mudder with baths for the younger kinner was a tiring but happy task. When everyone was finally bathed and dressed in light pajamas, they all piled into one bed so Miriam could read a story. Then another. And another.
Afterward, she led each of them to their beds and tucked them in, then went down to the kitchen for a glass of iced tea and a quick look at her lesson plan book.
Her mudder settled into a seat at the table. “Listen to that,” she said, glancing up at the ceiling.
Miriam did as she directed but didn’t hear the pitter patter of little feet. “I don’t hear anything.”
Sarah smiled. “Exactly. Peace has settled over the Troyer haus. Isn’t it a wunderbaar thing?”
Seeds of Hope Page 3
