Summer of Secrets (20 page)

Read Summer of Secrets Online

Authors: Charlotte Hubbard

Tags: #Restaurants, #Christian Fiction, #Amish, #Betrothal, #Love Stories, #Religious, #General, #Triplets, #Fiction, #Amish & Mennonite, #Christian, #Romance

BOOK: Summer of Secrets
4.98Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
“And how was Hiram durin’ all this? Ya think he’s gonna buy it and turn ya out?”
Miriam’s heart fluttered as she allowed herself to imagine a happier ending. “It snapped his suspenders but
gut
when he saw the askin’ price!” she whispered. “I was flabbergasted myself, but it was the appraiser’s say-so and we’ll go along with that. This was Hiram’s way of tonin’ me down, remember. But he’s gonna pay a perty penny if he sees this through.”
Chapter 23
 
Rachel stopped halfway up the stairs to the smithy’s loft, her heart pounding as steadily as Micah’s hammer. She was glad he’d decided to finish these rooms: surely it would put an end to any thoughts about his moving out of Willow Ridge to live among the Mennonites. While all had been forgiven concerning his visits to Rebecca, as he’d said during his confession, there was still the matter of the café being for sale ... the possibility that his
mamm
might lose her income. Kneeling before the People hadn’t settled Micah’s feelings about the bishop and his decisions, had it?
She breathed deeply to gather her courage, savoring the scents of sawdust and paint. Amish women didn’t tell their men what to do or make their decisions for them—and she’d learned well enough that complaining got her nowhere except into trouble.
So it was time to act—and speak—like a woman mature enough to marry and raise a family. Because that’s exactly what she intended to do. With Micah.
Rachel waited for a pause between bursts of nail pounding to holler into the open doorway. “Micah? Ya gonna show me how it’s all comin’ together?” she asked in a teasing tone. “Or do I have to sneak up here after ya leave?”
“Only folks I’m lettin’ up here’ll get put to work!” came his reply.
“How soon ya forget!” she teased. “I was
born
to work, Mr. Brenneman. A hand that fits an oven handle and a broom can hold a paintbrush, too, ain’t so?”
“Bring some of those brownies you were makin’ this afternoon! Left home before dessert so’s I could work here while there’s still light.”
Rachel snickered. Truth be told, Micah had even more of a yen for chocolate than she did. But who could fault a man for leaving Naomi’s table to build her sister and Mamma’s new home? Or at least she hoped it would be ...
She galloped down the stairs barefoot, then crossed the café’s back parking lot. Mamma looked up from making a batch of pastry for tomorrow’s piecrusts as Rachel put half a dozen fresh brownies on a plate. “Don’t follow me, now!” she teased her mother. Then she bounded back over to where her man was working, hoping to maintain this lighthearted attitude as she spoke her peace.
Micah was bent over to check a hardwood floorboard. When he grinned at her from between his sturdy legs, spread in an
A
shape, she giggled. “You’re a fine sight, Micah.”
“So’re you and your brownies, Rache. Just what a man needs to get him through maybe two more evenin’s of work.”
“Me? Or the brownies?” She bit into one, to watch him react.
“Jah.”
He righted himself, playing along ... watching her chew with obvious interest, yet not moving toward her.
Will he look at me this way a year from now? Ten years?
She swallowed the bite of chewy chocolate studded with walnuts. “Lookin’ real
gut
,” she murmured as she pulled her gaze away to check his progress.
“Me? Or the apartment?”
She snickered.
“Jah
.
”
“Watch this.” Micah stepped over to the shelves he’d built on the outside wall—except he pulled them effortlessly along tracks in the ceiling to reveal a wall about twelve feet long that rolled into the center of the big open room. It clicked into place. Then he went to what was
really
the outside wall and pulled down a panel that contained a bed. “Try the other one. If ya can reach it—and handle the weight okay—your
mamm
and Rhoda’ll be fine with it. And we’ve got us two instant bedrooms, ain’t so?”
Gaping, Rachel set aside the brownies and approached the opposite wall. She grabbed a decorative crosspiece carved at eye level in the paneling. When a second bed came down, her giggle echoed in the open, unfinished space. “Micah, this is—this is amazin’! Bedrooms that fold up and roll away when you’re not sleepin’!”
“
Jah
, like the old Murphy beds they used to install in Craftsman houses. Great space savers, and both rooms have shelves, too. And here, for the bathroom—” Micah walked in front of the kitchen sink and rolled out a smaller wall segment that revealed a tub and shower unit. “Had to arrange these water pipes and drains to work with the ones in the smithy bathroom below us,” he explained. “But this way, ya can use the toilet and hand sink here in the corner without takin’ up the usual space for a full bath.”
“And you’ve got the towel racks and whatnot on the movin’ wall,” she murmured. With a gentle push, that wall segment rolled silently along its ceiling tracks. It clicked into place near the stairway, to not only enclose the tub but provide privacy for using the stool, as well. Fascinated, Rachel tugged on it to see exactly how the wall system transformed this end of the apartment into a small kitchen with a full bath. “If you’d’ve tried to tell me about this, I couldn’t’ve imagined it.”
She rushed over to throw her arms around him. “Micah, this is the most wonderful-
gut
little place! I might wanna live here with ya instead of lettin’ Mamma and Rhoda—”
“Careful what ya wish for, Rache,” he said as he bussed her cheek. “Mighty tiny for a man my size. And where would we put the kids? Tape them to the ceilin’?”
His kissed her then, still laughing as he hugged her exuberantly. “Your mamma was right to have me finish this project. No matter what happens if somebody else buys the—”
“And this would be the perfect do-over for the attic—and maybe some of the other rooms at the house, too,” she said in an excited whisper. “Oh, Micah, I’ve been thinkin’! If Hiram boots Mamma and Rhoda outta here, we can make them a
dawdi haus
in the attic and maybe—maybe rent some of the bedrooms, like a B and B. And if we expand the kitchen some, Mamma could do her bakin’ there while Rhoda and I tend the guest rooms and—”
“Whoa, there! You’re talkin’ so fast my poor head’s spinnin’.” Still holding her, Micah smiled. The dimming evening light made his eyes deep pools ... pools she wanted to see herself in for the rest of her days. “We’d still have to get the bishop’s permission to run that sort of business, ya know. And then ... there’s still the matter of where to put all the babies I want to make with ya.”
“Micah, there’s
six
bedrooms there, and—” She exhaled, caught up in the words she so needed to say, hoping for the response she so needed to hear. “Micah, I know you’re frustrated with Hiram makin’ you and Mamma toe the line, but—but
please,
can we stay here in Willow Ridge?” she pleaded.
He gazed down at her, patient as always. But he looked none too convinced.
So she went on before he could protest, hoping he understood. “Mamma’s other sisters, except Leah, all married fellas from other towns, and with Dat gone I just can’t leave her, Micah. We’re all she’s got,” Rachel pleaded. “And if she loses her café—well, I don’t want to leave
your
mamma hangin’, either, Micah!”
Rachel stopped for breath, hoping the right words came while she was on a roll. “We can’t let our feelin’s about Hiram chase us away from the home—the lives—we’ve always loved here!” she insisted. “We’ve gotta stand up and show him how God and our faith
do
come first—but that for us,
family
is part of that faith, too.”
He cleared his throat, wrestling with what he wanted to say. “I was plenty steamed up the other night when I talked about jumpin’ the fence, Rache. But still, I don’t like the way he’s treatin’ your mother. It’s like he expects her to give up her business and hitch up with him so—”
“Micah!” Rachel pulled away to plant her fists on her hips. “Do ya really think Mamma’s gonna fall for that? And if Hiram does decide she’s leavin’ the Sweet Seasons, do ya think she’ll curl herself into a helpless little ball?”
“Never said your
mamm
was helpless—”
“For sure and for certain, she’ll find a way to do what she loves—and to see as much of our sister as Rebecca will allow.” She gripped his sturdy shoulders. “
Jah
, Mamma loves her café, Micah, but it’s only a buildin’. She’s got a home and a family and a heart bigger than all of this world. Do ya think lack of a
buildin’
can stop Mamma from doin’ what she loves, with the people she loves?”
He gazed at her for a long moment before coaxing her into his embrace. “Truth be told, I wasn’t feelin’ any too
gut
about pullin’ away from my family, either,” he murmured. “But what ya just said? Well, now I know why I’ve gotta have ya in my life, Rachel Lantz. Ya listen to my bluster and see through it to what really matters. I love ya, honey.
Fer gut
and forever.”
Her heart skipped in her chest. Wondrous enough that he’d said it so clear and sweet:
I love ya, honey
. But to echo the sentiment she and Rhoda and Mamma had shared since Dat passed was more than coincidence. It was a sign. Sure proof that with God—and this man in her arms—all things were possible.
“So ... we’re stayin’ here? In Willow Ridge?” she breathed.
“Don’t reckon I’m leavin’,” he said with a soft chuckle. “It’s for sure and for certain
you’re
not, ain’t so? And why would I go anywhere without you?”
Chapter 24
 
Early Tuesday morning, Miriam crimped the crusts on a dozen more cherry and peach pies. The familiar rhythm of baking had always soothed her: the tart fragrance of the cherries ... the cool dampness of the unbaked crust ... the peachy sweetness of filling licked from a spoon before she put it in the dishwasher. . . the silence and productivity of these predawn hours before anyone else arrived. What would she do if these simple pleasures were taken from her when the building sold?
Bake in my own kitchen again
came the immediate answer, but
this
kitchen in the Sweet Seasons had become her second home. It went far beyond ownership of the physical building, this satisfaction in work well done. Although Miriam knew she and the girls would survive, it was such a disappointment to think this cozy haven might be taken from her. Had God allowed her to prosper here after Jesse’s death, only to take her down a peg or two now?
Obedience ... submission ... patience
, she reminded herself as she positioned the pies in the ovens. The Lord would see her through this. He was teaching a lesson she needed to learn, and it was best to accept this as His way of enriching her faith.
She smiled as she recalled Rachel’s bubbly enthusiasm over how Micah had transformed the rooms in the smithy’s loft—and how her daughter had suggested transforming their home into a B and B. That pair would never lack for employment! Miriam itched to peek upstairs, to see Micah’s project for herself, but she wanted to be truly surprised when he showed it to her. Such pleasures came seldom enough ... and if she and Rhoda never got to live in those rooms ...
Outside, a movement caught her eye. Here came Leah, driving her wagon through the pearl-gray haze of the morning.
Miriam closed her eyes against the buzz of other fretful thoughts. True enough, her sister had confessed to tattling about her Morning Star visit, and she’d forgiven Leah for that. But what would it take to really
end
the tension between them? How could she convince her older sister that her ideas about life and earning a livelihood were as valid as Leah’s plan for
her
family? Years ago their mother had set the pattern, creating Miriam’s place as the youngest—the supposedly most indulged and spoiled—daughter. But that was decades ago! Didn’t she and Leah deserve to know each other for the women they’d become?
“
Gut
mornin’, Leah!” she called outside as she opened the kitchen’s back door. “Ya drivin’ the honey wagon?”
Leah chortled. A “honey wagon” was a vehicle that carried away animal waste after the barns and chicken houses were hosed out. “
Jah
, brought some filled jars for the sale display, and comb honey for your tables, too.”
Miriam dried her hands and hurried out to help her sister heft the twelve-gallon crock. “
Gut
timing. Just got the pies in, so I’ve got a while to do this before Naomi gets here.”
“And how’re the two of ya takin’ to the news of the sale?”
Miriam sensed
this
was Leah’s real reason for coming, because it put the Lantz family in yet another spotlight—a situation that kicked up speculation all around Willow Ridge. She shrugged, determined to put a positive spin on whatever her sister might say. “We’re comin’ up with some surprisin’ ideas, actually,” she hedged as they lowered the heavy crock of honey between them. “Necessity’s the mother of invention, ya know.”
“So it’s a for-sure thing you’ll have to move out, you and the Schrocks?” Leah’s eyebrow rose. “The bishop’s talkin’ like this buildin’ is already his and that you’ll be cookin’ at
his
place before the summer’s out!”
How much of this was true? And how much was Leah saying to bait her? Miriam considered her answer as they gripped the wooden handles of the crock. As always, they hurried into the kitchen with it because it didn’t seem so heavy that way. “Let me gather up the jars from the tables so’s we can fill them—”
“You’re stallin’, little sister. Somethin’ tells me there’s more to this story about you and Hiram than you’re lettin’ on.”
Something inside her snapped and Miriam closed her eyes.
Obedience and submission aren’t required here, Lord, but I could use a big dollop of patience.
She looked at her sister, taller and stockier than she. Leah wore a wrinkled kerchief on her head and a faded tan choring dress that rippled in the morning breeze above her sturdy bare feet. “Ya know, it’s that kind of tongue-waggin’ that landed me in the situation I’ve got with my Rebecca,” she began in a low voice. “But I forgive ya yet again for startin’ all that talk. Stirrin’ up the pot.”
Leah’s brow furrowed as they carried a plastic dish bin into the dining room to gather the honey jars. “I don’t follow ya. I had nothin’ to do with that girl comin’ here—”
“That
girl
is your niece, Leah.”
Her sister’s frown flickered as she reached for a half-empty jar of honey.
“But when ya told Hiram I’d gone to see Tiffany’s
dat
, over in Morning Star, that started the whole snowball rollin’ down the hill, far as the elders sayin’ this café gets me too involved with the outside world,” she continued in a low, steady voice. “Not much of a stretch to say it led to puttin’ the place up for sale—and you’ve admitted to puttin’ the bee under Hiram’s bonnet. You’re the only one I told, ya see.”
Leah’s features stiffened beneath her kerchief. She tossed a couple of honey jars so hard they nearly broke in the bin. “Here ya go again, Miriam, turnin’ things around to make it look like I’m pickin’ on ya, when—”
“But you’re not listenin’, are ya? I’ve already said I
forgive
ya, Sister.” Miriam’s pulse fluttered in her throat as she righted the overturned jars. “It’s nobody’s fault Tiffany showed up lookin’ like the Devil’s own daughter that first time. I’m just happy she stopped in again last week, lookin’ ... not so hard. Wantin’ to
know
us, as family.”
Miriam grabbed Leah’s tanned hand. “To me, that’s rainbow enough to compensate for all this other stuff that’s pourin’ down on me right now. For once, I’d just like ya to be
happy
, and to see my silver linin’—even if ya can’t feel it for yourself.”
Leah grabbed both ends of the bin to carry it into the kitchen. Her bare feet slapped across the tile floor. “Are ya sayin’ I’m a gossip? Disagreeable and hard to get along with?” she challenged.
Miriam cleared her throat, praying for diplomacy that wouldn’t dilute her whole purpose here. “Remember how testy Mamm got with her headaches? And how you always had to be in charge of us littler kids while she was restin’—and then ya had to rush around, reddin’ up the house and cookin’ supper before Dat got home?” she asked in a faraway voice. Then she smiled. “Well, ya can leave that behind ya now! I’m not four anymore, and ya don’t have to act like you’re my mother! How’s that for
gut
news?”
Her sister’s expression shifted from denial to doubt to disbelief. She twisted the lids off the honey jars while Miriam fetched a wide-bottom funnel to fill them. “Puh! What’s this got to do with Hiram buyin’—”
“Who says that’s gonna happen? And who says my reunion with Rebecca’s gonna be my ruination?” Miriam countered quietly. “Maybe you don’t wanna change the way things are between us, but I thought I’d give it a shot. Okay, I’m done workin’ on ya now!”
Miriam inhaled the musky scent of the amber honey, which Leah stored in covered crocks in her root cellar. She’d have to spin this chat faster, in a better direction, if they were to come out ahead ... sisters and
friends
. “Thanks for bringin’ this honey today, Leah. Calls for oatmeal pancakes and biscuits—and maybe a French toast special this mornin’. That’ll make Rhoda mighty happy.”
“
Jah
, my boys, too. They love eatin’ their breakfast here, I’ll have ya know.” Her voice still had an edge to it, yet her features softened. She cut sections of honeycomb to drop into the jars while Miriam held the funnel. “And maybe I should be happy about
that
, instead of feelin’ miffed that you’ve always been the better cook. Maybe I’ll miss that extra time workin’ my gardens, if Hiram turns ya out of here ... because I’ll have to make my men breakfast and noon dinner again.”
“
Jah
, there’s that.”
They finished filling the jars in silence, but it felt like they were sisters working together instead of going head-to-head. Miriam wiped the sticky jars with a wet rag. She’d soothed the scabs on her soul that her sister so enjoyed picking at.
She
felt better anyway, which wasn’t a bad way to start another morning at the Sweet Seasons.
“Been a long time since I thought back to Mamm’s headaches. Didn’t know them as migraines then, but that’s what they were,” Leah recalled aloud. “And if you’re sayin’ I act that same way—”
“Oh, not near so bad!” Miriam corrected. She slipped into her padded mitts and opened an oven door. “Just sayin’ we can let go of that whole time. Lotta water under the bridge in thirty years, and we might as well go with the flow, ain’t so?”
Leah looked around them, at the modern gas cookstoves and the freezers that hummed against the wall. She stepped out of the way as Miriam quickly placed the bubbly hot pies on the center island. Then she stood gazing at the golden crusts, sparkly with sugar, and the leaf-shaped cutouts oozing with amber or ruby filling. “You always did turn out a pertier pie than anybody else, Sis.”
“And you get the gardens to yield up the best veggies—and your honey’s what
makes
my biscuits, truth be told. Seems like we’re both doin’ what we were made for, and that’s a
gut
thing.” Miriam inhaled the aromas of her morning’s work, a sweet satisfaction indeed. She fetched a shallow box from the recycling stack by the door. Then she lined it with a dish towel and set the most perfect of the dozen pies in it, to hand across the counter.
“For me?” Leah blinked then grinned like a kid. “But I thought these were for—”
“Peach was always your favorite. Who better to enjoy it while it’s fresh?”
As her older sister started back home in the wagon, waving, Miriam chuckled. For once, she’d had the last word—left Leah without a comeback. Even if nothing else of consequence came of this day, she’d gotten it off to a fine start.

Other books

All You Need Is Love by Emily Franklin
We Dine With Cannibals by C. Alexander London
The Ugly Duckling by Iris Johansen
El regreso de Sherlock Holmes by Arthur Conan Doyle
The Eighth Day by Tom Avitabile
David by Mary Hoffman