Harvest of Blessings (4 page)

The
hisss-POOF!
of the burner on her new gas stove made Nora jump back with a startled cry.
You’re going to blow this place sky-high before you even get unpacked! What were you thinking, buying a house without electricity ?

As she put a small pan of soup on the burner, Nora shook her head. She was surrounded by her microwave, her electric can opener, her blender—all of them useless now. And why had she bought a house with such a huge kitchen? Tanner had entertained his clients in upscale restaurants, so she’d done little cooking since she’d lived in Willow Ridge as a girl. Thank goodness the real estate agent had suggested that she get a gas fridge and stove, along with some battery lamps. He hadn’t questioned her insistence on moving back to this little Amish speck in the road—because he’d been laughing all the way to the bank with his hefty commission.

“Get a grip,” Nora muttered. Then she realized she’d been talking to herself ever since the moving van had pulled away an hour ago. Maybe, along with plunking down all her money on this big, impractical piece of property, she was also losing her mind.

She stirred her soup, reminding herself that she’d handled far worse crises than a hissing gas stove and living alone. Tanner had traveled more than he’d stayed home—before he’d announced he was divorcing her to hook up with someone else. Someone more
sophisticated
and
interesting
, he’d said.

Nora swiped at her eyes, stirring faster as the soup bubbled in the pan. It was the stress of moving—the overwhelming prospect of unpacking all these boxes—that was upsetting her. Not to mention how dead her mother had looked in that bed, in that dreary house with all the windows shut tight.

Not a day had gone by that Nora hadn’t regretted abandoning her baby, but she’d been too young and upset to foresee the consequences—afraid she’d spend the rest of her miserable life without any way to support a child, beholden to her mother’s
maidel
sister. She’d also been too terrified to name the man who’d taken advantage of her, because he’d promised she’d go straight to hell if she did.

What sort of a girl had Millie grown up to be? Had she done well in school? Was she happy, with lots of friends? How had she handled the chip on Atlee’s shoulder—
and what if Dat never claimed her as his granddaughter? What if they all poisoned Millie’s mind against you, so she’ll never want to—

Nora stiffened as male voices drifted through the kitchen window.

“. . . better keep your paws off her, Ira, because
I
saw her first.”

When she caught sight of her too-friendly neighbor Luke approaching with a shorter fellow, who was dressed in black-and-white church clothes, Nora groaned. Wolves coming to the door, ready to paw at her, indeed.

Note to self: get real curtains.
The narrow pulled-back panels at the edges of each window were
so
Amish, because they bespoke total openness and allowed no secrets—yet another irony in her life. But if she closed the windows and kept full-size curtains drawn against Luke’s curiosity, she’d get claustrophobic and die of the heat.
And why, again, did you buy a house without central air?

“Hey, new neighbor lady!” Luke called out. “We came to see if you need any help yet.”

Nora nearly choked on laughter—but maybe if she kept quiet, these rubes would go away.

“I know you’re in there,” Luke teased in a singsong voice. “Smells like chicken noodle soup.”

Nora swore under her breath as she turned off the burner. Her hair was a mess, she was wearing no makeup, she was hot and tired and testy—and she
would
find a way to convince these two turkeys to leave her alone. When she opened the back kitchen door, however, Luke walked inside as though he owned the place, followed by his companion.

“This is my little brother Ira,” he said as he nailed her with a green-eyed gaze. “And we’re pleased to make your acquaintance,
Nora
.”

“H-how’d you know my name?” she stammered.

Luke’s lips flickered wryly. “Hiram stopped by to tell us you’d moved in.”

The blood rushed from her head as she caught a whiff of wintergreen on his breath. What else had Hiram revealed about her—and her past? What if these guys went blabbing to everyone about how she’d—

“Hey, nice stove,” Ira remarked as he looked around the cluttered kitchen. “So, do ya like to cook, Nora?”

Their hopeful expressions brought Nora out of her panic. Here was her chance to get rid of two nosy Amish bachelors looking for home-cooked meals. “If I can’t microwave it, I can’t cook it,” she replied plaintively. “But there aren’t any plug-ins. So I’m figuring out how to open soup with a manual can opener and—”

“Nobody told ya about the solar panels?” Ira blurted.

Luke was staring at her as though he couldn’t believe she hadn’t noticed the lack of electricity when she’d bought the place. Nora found herself way too riveted by his intense gaze, so she watched his brother open the pantry door. “Solar panels? That sounds too progressive for an Amish town.”

“Ah, but see, Hiram had more gadgets than he was supposed to,” Ira replied as he held up two cables with electrical adapters on the ends.

“Which is why those solar panels are on the back side of the roof, away from the road,” Luke explained. “Knepp arranged his power cables so they came into closets, so any visitors from the district wouldn’t see his TV set and the computer that hooked up to the security system in his barn. He’s a real piece of work, Hiram is.”

Nora was so ecstatic about having power for her small appliances that she momentarily set aside her concern about any information the former bishop might’ve revealed to Luke Hooley. She could plug in her microwave and blender and blow dryer! She could make toast for breakfast! Maybe these guys were worth knowing, after all, if—

“Annie Mae used to tell us about her
dat
’s gadgets when Luke and I were runnin’ the roads with her and Millie Glick,” Ira said in an offhand voice. “And gee, now that Annie Mae’s married to Adam Wagler, they’ll be your neighbors on the other side.”

Nora had lost him at the mention of her daughter’s name. Once again she fought waves of panic, wondering if these brothers knew more about her than they were letting on—maybe baiting her to reveal more answers.
I remember Annie Mae when she was in diapers! What kind of losers are these guys, if they’re nearly my age yet dating girls young enough to be my daughter—not to mention running the roads with my Millie?

She struggled to keep a straight face. These chatty brothers might be rubes, but they were also potential fonts of knowledge about Willow Ridge and its inhabitants. “So, what else can you tell me about this house and—”

Luke’s catlike eyes narrowed as he walked around her, looking her up and down. “You could pass for Millie’s sister,” he murmured in an appreciative voice. “Don’t you think so, Ira?”

Ira studied her face and hair, his thumbs hooked behind his suspenders. “Millie’ll never have this much
class
,” he declared. “But that’s because she doesn’t get out much, what with takin’ care of her grandmother, and livin’ under old Preacher Gabe’s nose.”

“But since you’re not Amish, you’ll not have much reason to get acquainted with him,” Luke added matter-of-factly. “Except for eating at the café most mornings, he doesn’t get out much anymore, either. Gabe’s so old and crippled up, he’s retired from preaching.”

Again Nora fought to maintain her neutral facial expression. She’d never known an Amish preacher to retire—it was a lifelong commitment—so her father must be severely disabled. While the Hooley brothers were fascinated by her resemblance to Millie, they seemed to have no clue that Gabe Glick was her father . . .
so if Dat has claimed Millie as his granddaughter, she surely believes Atlee and Lizzie are her parents. But if Millie’s living with Dat and Mamma, how will I ever reconcile with them first, without her being in the middle of it?

This was no time to get lost in such concerns, however. If she was to get any more information about Willow Ridge and the people here, she had to ask questions as though she were a newcomer. “So is there a real grocery store anywhere close?” Nora asked. “Or is that little place with the blue metal roof where you do your shopping?”

Ira rolled his eyes. “Zook’s Market’s the closest thing we’ve got to a store—”

“There’s an English supermarket in New Haven,” Luke cut in suavely, “but we usually eat at the Sweet Seasons. Our older brother Ben’s married to the woman who runs the place, and it’s where most everybody goes for breakfast and lunch—”

“The guys do, anyway,” Ira agreed, “on account of how the buffet, along with the pies and rolls in the bakery counter are the best anywhere. We bring home enough for our supper, usually. If it weren’t for Miriam’s place, a lot of us single fellas would starve.”

Nodding, Nora feigned ignorance again. “So, what do people around here do for entertainment?”

The brothers looked at each other and burst out laughing. “Oh, honey, if ya think there’s movie theaters or miniature golf,” Ira began with a chuckle, “ya moved to the wrong spot in the road.”

Luke was studying her closely. “Didn’t you check out any of this stuff before you bought a house in an Amish town?” he quizzed her. “The nearest place with anything going on is Warrensburg, where there’s a college—”

“I did enough homework to know I could find some peace and quiet here,” Nora retorted, hoping her tone would shut them up—and cover the irony of that statement. Peace was the
last
thing she’d experience once her father and brother found out she’d returned. “Willow Ridge is a quaint little town in the countryside, and the house was a steal, compared to what such a place would’ve cost in Saint—” She stopped before she revealed where she’d previously lived. “Anyway, I figured I’d get an electrician out here, and have cable installed—”

“Hiram had a satellite dish,” Ira said.

“Yep. Attached it to the back side of his barn,” Luke clarified. “But of course, since we could see it from our apartment above the mill, he told us it was part of the security system for his Belgian breeding business rather than for watching TV.”

“Like he thought we were too stupid to know better,” Ira chimed in.

Although Nora chuckled with them, she realized that too much chitchat with these nosy neighbors wasn’t in her best interest. Luke and Ira probably couldn’t wait to spread the word about their new neighbor when they went to the café for breakfast tomorrow morning—where her father might be eating.

Nora suddenly felt overwhelmed by the many repercussions of her return she hadn’t anticipated. She had very little time left to remain anonymous, or to tell Mamma or Millie about her return before the grapevine buzzed like a swarm of hornets. Longtime residents would remember who she was and why she’d left, and when they quizzed Dat about her return, he would
not
be happy.
Forgive and forget
might be the key to the Amish faith, but unless her father had undergone a personality transplant, he would never welcome her back.

With a sigh, Nora glanced at the soup congealing in the saucepan. “It’s been a really long day, guys. How about if I visit with you again some other time?”

One of Luke’s eyebrows rose in a distinctive curve, accentuating his furtive green-eyed gaze. “You sure you’ll be all right here without any lights, or—”

“Or any company in this big ole house?” Ira asked. “Might get kinda spooky here, all by your lonesome.”

Nora caught herself before she revealed that she knew quite well how to get by with lanterns. She pointed to the two battery lamps on the counter. “I’ll be fine, really. But thanks for asking.”

“And your bed’s put together?” Luke asked with another of his suggestive gazes.

With an exasperated gasp, Nora pointed to the back door. “Who do you think you’re dealing with? I
really
don’t need your help.”

The brothers exchanged a knowing look as they put on their straw hats and left.

Nora felt a tension headache coming on. Would her words come back to haunt her once Luke and Ira knew who she really was?

As they left her grandparents’ house to return to the wedding festivities, Millie had to walk very fast to keep up with her
mamm
. Her heart throbbed painfully from overhearing just enough of the adults’ conversation to be bothersome—and she felt as though she’d explode because of what she had
not
heard.

“So who’s Nora?” she demanded in a strained voice.

Mamm glanced up the county highway in one direction and then down the other before they crossed it. Her face nearly matched her white
kapp
and light blond hair, and she was clutching Ella so tightly that the poor little girl’s eyes were wide. “We’ll talk about it when we get home,” she answered stiffly.

“But I’ll be going back to take care of Mammi tonight, so—”

“Nora is your
dat
’s sister,” her mother snapped. “He needs to know she’s in town—or else we need to take your
mammi
to a doctor, if she’s been hallucinatin’.”

Millie frowned. “If Dat has a sister, why have I never heard about her? And why doesn’t she live here in—”

“Enough already!” Mamm stepped in front of Millie, stopping her on the shoulder of the road. “Not a word of this to
anybody
until we can be sure what’s goin’ on, understand me?”

Millie’s heart shriveled. All her life she’d endured her
dat
’s temper and her grandfather’s brusque manner, so her mother’s angry demand sliced her heart like a knife. “I—I only asked,” she whimpered, “because it sounds like everybody but me knows what’s going on and—and because of what Miriam said before she left. She was
worried
about me, Mamm. Because of this Nora.”

Suddenly Mamm’s face fell and she let out the breath she’d been holding. She caressed Millie’s cheek. “I’m sorry it’s come to this,” she murmured. “We can’t understand why the Lord allows things to happen the way they do. If I’d had my way, you would’ve been told about Nora long ago.”

Her mother appeared torn between what she knew and what she wasn’t ready to reveal, so Millie sensed she’d better keep her questions to herself. She swallowed hard, but the lump remained in her throat as they resumed their rapid stroll to the Brenneman place. Clusters of wedding guests dotted the lawn beneath the big shade trees, some of them in chairs and some of them standing. Farther across the lot, the little girls were squealing in their best pastel dresses while the boys darted after them, playing tag. Millie had the feeling she’d never again feel that carefree, once the family secret had been revealed to her.

With an odd expression on her face, Mamm passed baby Ella to Millie and then made a beeline toward Dat. He was visiting with Adam Wagler’s brother, Matthias, about retired racehorses that were being sold at an upcoming auction—a topic of interest to Amish men, who bought these beautiful horses and retrained them to pull their buggies.

“I might be in the market for a couple of geldings,” Matthias was saying. “What with Adam and Annie Mae moving in, I suspect we’ll be needing another—”

“Excuse me, Matthias,” Mamm said as she strode up to the two men. “I’ve got to talk to Atlee.
Now
.”

Matthias’s eyes widened. “Sure thing, Lizzie. Thanks for the scoop on this next auction, Atlee. See you there,” he said as he walked toward the Brennemans’ shop.

Millie cooed to Ella when the baby started fussing, sensing she should hang back even as she desperately wanted to hear what her parents were about to discuss. Dat’s frown warned her to make herself invisible, too. She ambled off as though she might help Miriam’s daughter Rhoda set up a croquet game for the kids, but not so far off that she couldn’t hear.

“What’s with you?” her
dat
demanded. “I was talking business with Matthias—”

“Nora’s back,” Mamm said nervously. “She—she went to see your
mamm
, so now—”

“She
what
?”

Her
dat
’s tone of voice made Millie turn. His face, burnished by years of outdoor work, had turned so white that his freckles looked ready to pop off as he stared at her mother.

Mamm looked terrified. “When we took that box of food for your folks,” she went on in a rush, “Wilma was in the front room, sayin’ Nora had been leanin’ over the bed lookin’ at her—”

“That’s crazy,” Dat argued. “Surely you didn’t believe—”

“
Hear me out
,” Mamm insisted, stepping closer to him so her voice wouldn’t carry to the other guests. “Your
mamm
seemed totally rational—excited, even—but your
dat
refused to talk about it. And then Millie—”

“It’s all fine and
gut
for him to hide behind his silence,” Dat muttered. “He hasn’t had to live with Nora’s mistakes all these—”

“Atlee!” Mamm’s voice cracked. When she saw that Millie was still standing nearby, she swiped at tears and quickly focused on Dat again. “Think about what you’re sayin’,
before
ya say it,” she pleaded. “Millie walked in and the conversation came to a halt—”

“And Miriam and Ben were there? It’ll be all over town by—”

“Which is why we need to talk to Millie—”

“No,
we
do not,” Dat blurted as he took off his straw hat and then crammed it back on his head. “We’re goin’ home.
Now
.”

As her father strode across the yard toward the parked buggies, Millie could barely breathe. Why was it such a big, secret deal that Dat’s sister had come back to Willow Ridge? And why did Mamm’s face look like a crumpled wad of paper as she glanced Millie’s way? Millie forced her feet to move despite the confusion that was making her heart constrict. “Mamm?” she murmured, tightening her hold on wiggly Ella.

Her mother quickly kissed her cheek as she took the baby from Millie’s arms. “I don’t know what to say, what to do just yet,” Mamm rasped. “It’s best that ya go back to look after your
mammi
tonight, because ya can see what a state your
dat
’s in.”

Millie nodded solemnly. She and her mother had gotten a lot of practice at tiptoeing around Dat’s moods over the years.

“Your
dawdi
won’t want to discuss this, either,” Mamm warned, “so don’t push your luck by askin’ Mammi to explain things. Be patient, all right? I wish this was goin’ differently, honey. I—I love ya, Millie.”

As her mother rushed off toward the buggy, Millie stood awkwardly in the yard. The playing children and the other guests on the lawn seemed to disappear in the haze of despair that enveloped her. While she had never doubted her mother’s love, they seldom put their affection into words—and this, after Miriam had told her that everyone loved her, just moments ago.

A familiar voice cut through her thoughts. “Millie! I thought ya might still be out with Ira!”

Millie blinked. Annie Mae—now Mrs. Adam Wagler—rushed up and grabbed both of her hands. “We’re cuttin’ the cake! Come on, ya gotta be there with me!”

“
Jah
, sure,” Millie murmured. She allowed Annie Mae to lead her toward the shop building because it gave her something real to do, instead of drifting off in a confused daze. But just short of the door, Millie stopped. “Annie Mae, do ya know anything about a gal named Nora?” she asked urgently. “I guess she’s Dat’s sister, but I’ve never seen her.”

Annie Mae frowned. “Well,
that’s
odd. Never heard of her. Why?”

Millie shrugged. It seemed wrong to bother her best friend about this situation on the biggest day of her life, so she forced herself to smile. “Never mind,” she said as she opened the door. “We don’t want Bishop Tom’s ice cream to melt while everybody’s waitin’ for it.”

 

 

A few hours later, when Millie returned to her grandparents’ house,
melting
was something her
dawdi
was obviously not going to do. As she entered the front room, he rose from his chair to stand behind the rocker where Mammi sat, as though she’d been there all afternoon. She still appeared alert, but her expression—the shining hazel eyes that blazed in her wrinkled face—warned Millie not to make any waves.

Mammi winced, probably because Dawdi was squeezing her bony shoulders too hard. “And how was the wedding?” she asked in a voice that sounded raspy from lack of use.

Millie walked as close as she dared, considering her grandfather’s harsh expression. “It was a fine day,” she murmured. “I brought ya both some cake, and some of Tom’s peppermint-stick ice cream. So how come you’re still up and sittin’ in here, Mammi? Ya must be feelin’ so much better—”

“A bee got under her bonnet,” her grandfather muttered, “and once it gets loose, we’ll all get stung. I’m puttin’ her to bed, and you’re to go to your room, Millie.”

Millie blinked. It wasn’t nearly dark yet, but she knew better than to argue that Dawdi might not be able to help Mammi into her nightgown, as he wasn’t very steady on his feet. As she trudged up the creaky wooden stairs, she wondered yet again about the strange situation, and about this Nora who seemed to be overturning everyone’s apple carts.

She thought about slipping out after her grandparents were settled in bed, but whom could she talk to? Her parents didn’t want her around. If Annie Mae had no idea about Nora, none of her other friends probably knew her, either. She hated to bother Miriam, because she and Ben would be clearing away the food from the wedding supper. And Ira was too moony-eyed over his new neighbor to listen to her concerns.

As dusk fell, Millie sat on her bed watching the shadows fill her tomblike room.
I’ve
got
to hear this Nora story from somebody. But who?