Harvest of Blessings (15 page)

He’d never gone out with a woman who wasn’t eager to do whatever he wanted—or eager for his kisses—either. Luke realized that in her subtle way, Nora was exerting her control over him. But he was willing to play along for a while. The payoff seemed so tantalizing, even if Nora had chosen to sit across the table from him, beside Millie, as they ate their early supper. He found himself watching the way she bit into her burger and licked the melting cheese from the bottom of the bun. He wished he could be her napkin when she wiped her mouth.

“You know, we could’ve left my broken wheel at James Graber’s carriage shop,” Ira murmured. “We weren’t but a couple of miles away when we pulled over. And now I’ll have to take it there, as nobody closer to Willow Ridge can fix it.”

Luke considered this as he noted how sunburned his brother’s face was becoming. “That would’ve meant doubling back, and a longer trip home,” he pointed out. “With Graber’s shop being closed today, it’s not like you’d have gotten the wheel back any faster.”

“I’ll take it in tomorrow, then.” Ira gulped some of his cold soda. “Guess that means you’ll have to watch the shop and grind that load of dried corn—”

“I’m really, really sorry I made us wreck,” Millie mumbled. “I didn’t intend for my can of soda—our spur-of-the-moment picnic—to cost ya a day of work.”

Ira reached across the table to grasp Millie’s wrist. “You’ve already apologized,” he insisted. “Even with our rig incident, isn’t this fun supper—gettin’ out for the day—a better time than we would’ve had hangin’ around for the common meal after church?”

Luke was slightly amazed at how tenderly his brother was treating Millie. Though the two of them had been dating for nearly a year, Ira had always been inclined toward impatience and more impetuous behavior than he’d displayed the past few weeks. Was he becoming more seriously involved with his girlfriend? Or was Ira on his best behavior to impress her mother?

Across the table, Nora’s furtive smile told Luke she was either scheming or—

“What if
I
take your wheel to Cedar Creek tomorrow ?” she volunteered. “At church, folks were telling me about a gal there who braids rag rugs, and another lady whose pottery would be a good addition to my shop. I could toss the wheel in my trunk and save you a day on the road—and if you want to, Millie, you could go with me! The mercantile looks like a fine, fun place to shop.”

Millie’s eyes widened. “I’d have to ask Mammi. Monday’s when I do the laundry.”

“We’ll visit with her when we get home.” Nora smiled first at her daughter and then at Ira. “Are you
gut
with that, Ira? I’m not trying to interfere with—”

“It’s a generous offer.
Denki
.” As he picked up his second cheeseburger, Ira flashed her a grin. “I’d like to ride along to Cedar Creek myself, but I’d better not push my luck with the boss. We’ve got a lot of grain mixes to bag up, to refill the shelves after our big opening weekend.”

“So it’s all settled,” Luke said. “Mighty nice of you to help us out, Nora.” He carefully caught her two feet between his under the table without Millie or Ira being the wiser. The flicker of a sly smile was her only response, but it was enough. A few moments later Luke inched his hand across the table to sneak her last onion ring, delighting in the way she slapped his hand.

“All you have to do is
ask
, Luke,” Nora scolded playfully.

Desire slammed into him as he thought of all the implications her statement might have. Luke released the onion ring, holding her gaze. “I won’t stop asking until I get what I want,” he challenged in a low voice.

Ira choked on his soda. Millie’s eyes widened.

Luke felt odd making such a remark to her mother while Millie looked on, but they would all have to get past that mother-daughter detail. After all, Nora had started this train rolling by playing hard to get ever since church had let out, while Millie and Ira had come looking for him and Nora.
He
had just come along to be the driver . . . and he intended to keep the lines—the leather ones and the psychological ones—in his own hands.

After they had all enjoyed double-dip ice cream cones, they began the last leg of the trip back to Willow Ridge. With Nora again settled so close to him, Luke thought ahead to when he might take her out—or stay in. Even when there was a breeze from the river, the upstairs mill apartment got stuffy on these humid August days, so he was looking for any excuse to spend time at Nora’s place when he wasn’t running the mill or keeping the store open.

“Did your
mammi
make it to church this morning?” Nora asked Millie. “She was looking so much perkier when we were at Bishop Tom’s house last week.”

“She did,” Millie replied. “She was lookin’ forward to seein’ everybody and chattin’ with her friends at the common meal. Figured she’d go home for a nap if the day started wearin’ on her.”

“Sounds like a fine plan,” Nora replied. Then she brightened. “Would you want to come to my place when we get back to town? You could see my hangings—”

“Oh, that would be wonderful-
gut
!” Millie blurted.

“—and we could talk about what working in the consignment shop would involve,” Nora continued. “Then I could walk you to Micah and Rachel’s place to visit with folks who’re still there. It’s time I got back in touch with everybody—and time they got used to seeing me around, too. And we’ll talk to Mamma about our trip tomorrow.”

Luke was careful not to show his disappointment. He’d hoped to be with Nora this evening when it was cooler, because once the new workweek began tomorrow, he’d have little time to socialize with his attractive neighbor until next Sunday. He didn’t want to wait that long. Didn’t think he
could
be away from the mysterious, intriguing Nora Landwehr for seven days without suffering withdrawal pangs.

When they reached Willow Ridge, Luke pulled into the mill’s parking area and smiled at his two riders. “I hope you girls will have a
gut
visit for the rest of the day,” he said as he stepped to the ground. He was pleased when Nora allowed him to lift her down from the rig—and more pleased that Millie scrambled out of the buggy to see how Ira was faring after his hot ride.

“When can I see you again?” Luke murmured, keeping his hands lightly at Nora’s waist.

She flashed him a smile and eased out of his grasp. “I have a lot of folks to contact this week, about putting merchandise in my shop. I’ll be in and out.”

Luke’s lips curved. “Surely you’ll not be busy in the evenings, or—”

“
You
burned some midnight oil getting ready to open your shop, as I recall. And it’s all about me, remember ?” she reminded him with a rise of one provocative eyebrow. “
Denki
for a great day, Luke. You rock, you know it?”

As he was catching on to what she’d said, Nora stood on tiptoe to place a quick kiss on his cheek. Then she strode down the driveway toward the county road. “See you in a few, Millie!” she called out. Then she wiggled her fingers at Luke.

He raised his hand in response, and then touched his face where Nora had kissed him.
You rock, you know it?
echoed in his mind as he watched her dress swish with her energetic stride, until she disappeared around the bend. Was he losing his touch? He hadn’t seen Nora’s kiss coming at all—would’ve grabbed her and claimed her lips until she surrendered, if he had.

You really think so?
his thoughts taunted. Luke laughed at himself. He’d been kissing women for more than half his life, but it seemed Nora was showing him how much he really didn’t know about
wooing
as opposed to winning.

He’d have to work on that.

Millie held her breath as she knocked at Nora’s door. Even though she and Annie Mae had been best friends since childhood, she had rarely set foot in this large, glorious house when Hiram Knepp and his family had lived here—because the former bishop had discouraged visitors, and because Millie had felt too intimidated. Unworthy.

“Come on in, sweetie,” Nora called from the front room.

Millie smiled in spite of her jitters. She’d have to start thinking of this woman as her mother—would have to call her something besides Mamm, because that name had always belonged to Lizzie. And calling Nora by her first name would be unthinkably rude.

When she stepped inside, Millie forgot her nerves and just gawked. Plush store-bought rugs adorned the hardwood floors, and they coordinated with sofas and overstuffed chairs that looked fresh from a furniture store in royal blue, magenta, and tan. The chair arms weren’t covered with hand towels. Nothing was slipcovered or draped with a sheet to hide the worn spots. The wooden tables gleamed in the sunlight without any white rings from wet glasses or scuffs and scratches from years of use.

But it was the hangings that made Millie suck in her breath. “ These are
so cool
,” she murmured, drawn to the image of a clothesline with garments that appeared to be fluttering in the breeze. “How did ya—why, those are real clothes pins and a rope instead of just appliquéd pieces cut from fabric!”

“
Jah
, they’re little craft-size clothes pins,” Nora replied as she came to stand beside Millie. “I sell a lot of Amish wash-day hangings. You’d think folks would want something more exciting, but English women have forgotten how to hang laundry. They think dresses and broadfall trousers flapping in the breeze are quaint. Charming.”

Nodding, Millie stepped sideways to admire a banner of a little Amish girl running her finger over a kitten’s fur. The girl’s white
kapp
was cut from a real one, to show the profile view. “So, have ya had a shop before? It must’ve been hard to close the place up to come here.”

“I had some of my hangings in other people’s shops, and I sell a lot of pieces from my website,” Nora replied. Her chuckle told of mixed emotions. “I’m almost ashamed to say it, but one of the reasons I can’t commit to joining the Amish church is my online business. I’ve supported myself with Internet sales for the past year, since Tanner left, and I . . . don’t have enough faith to believe I can earn a steady living from a shop.”

Millie frowned. “But you’ll do really
gut
with all the different stuff you’ve been talking about, from so many folks around the area,” she countered.

“It’s a tricky business, selling gifts,” Nora explained. “Most of the money for a consigned item goes to the person who made it. And after the crafters set their prices high enough to be paid fairly for their time, and the storekeeper adds her percentage, customers sometimes think they’re being overcharged. And if a shopper returns a couple of times without finding anything she thinks is worth the money—or if it’s always the same old stuff in the displays—she won’t come back.”

Millie considered this as she looked at Nora’s other hangings. Even with her limited experience at quilting, she could tell her mother was a true artist rather than someone who always followed a pattern or who was using up scraps of material she had on hand. Living among women who made crazy quilts and hot pads from pieces of old clothing had taught Millie the same sort of thriftiness, yet she couldn’t fault Nora for choosing new fabric for her special hangings.

“If ya ever want to get rid of leftover fabric pieces, I’d be glad to take them off your hands,” Millie said with a tentative smile. “I’m thinkin’ to make Annie Mae and Adam a flower-basket quilt for their wedding present—”

“What a lovely idea!” Nora’s smile made her eyes sparkle. “And if you’d ever want to put a quilt in the shop, I’d be pleased to have it. If you decide to help me run the place, you could work on quilts when we aren’t busy. The folks who come in would love to watch you work.”

Millie envisioned herself sitting in the shop, surrounded by beautifully crafted items and admiring customers as she pieced fabric baskets and flowers—which seemed so much more exciting than doing that same sort of handwork at Mammi and Dawdi’s house. When she realized Nora was gazing at her, her face got hot. “Um, what-all would ya have me doin’ in your store? I’ve never had a real job.”

“I don’t believe that for a minute!” Nora replied as she squeezed Millie’s shoulder. “You’ve been cooking and doing laundry and looking after your grandparents when your
mammi
was very sick. I can teach you how to run the cash register,” she went on, “but I bet you’re already very good at straightening shelves. And you have a smile customers can’t help but love.”

Millie felt herself glowing, caught up in Nora’s enthusiasm.

“If you can help me set up the store before we open, you’ll get to really
look
at all the merchandise so you can answer customers’ questions about it,” Nora went on. “Even if Mamma can only spare you for a few hours a day, it would be a tremendous help to me, Millie.”

As Millie gazed into a face that could almost be her own in a mirror, her spirits took wing. “I—I’d love to work in your store! Let’s go talk to Mammi right now, before she’s tired out from visiting.”

“We’re on our way.” Nora grabbed a key ring from a peg by the door and tucked it into her dress pocket. She turned then, her hand on the door handle, and gazed deeply into Millie’s eyes. “I’m so glad you’re giving me a chance, Millie,” she murmured. “It means more to me than I can say.”

Millie’s throat tightened. She couldn’t find words, so she nodded.

“And whatever happens—whatever Mamma’s answer is—I’ll understand,” Nora insisted earnestly. “We’ll ask her about going to Cedar Creek tomorrow, too.”

Millie’s heart skipped rope. When they stepped out onto Nora’s big porch, she was amazed at how much of Willow Ridge she could see from this hilltop—and surprised at how many people were still sitting beneath the shade trees at Rachel and Micah’s place. Even though all the men wore straw hats and all the women were in
kapps
, she could distinguish who most of them were. “There’s Dawdi,” she said, pointing to a cluster of older men seated in lawn chairs. “If he’s still there, Mammi most likely is, too.”

It was a new experience, walking with Nora—her mother!—beside her. As they passed her grandparents’ home, Millie realized how dusty and careworn it looked compared to Nora’s, and when they entered the long lane at Rachel’s place, she felt folks gawking at them. Everyone had heard about Nora’s return by now, and after church some of them had speculated about her store and her refusal to join the Old Order. When Millie waved to some of the men seated beneath the trees, they nodded but their eyes were on Nora—assessing her crazy-quilt dress, no doubt.

Spotting her grandmother, Millie walked faster. “She’s on the porch in the swing,” she said as she and Nora strode past the serving tables. Everything had been put away except the remaining cookies and cakes.

“She looks like she’s having a
gut
time, and she’s in the coolest spot, out of the sun,” Nora remarked. Then she sighed. “Not everyone here is thrilled about me coming over. I’m sorry if this bothers you, Millie, or if I . . . embarrass you.”

“No! It’s not like that,” Millie insisted. “It was the same way when Miriam partnered with the Schrock women so she could have electricity to meet health department requirements.”

“Change doesn’t come easy for most folks,” Nora replied. As they approached the porch, where several women sat talking, her face relaxed into a smile. “It’s
gut
to see you talking and laughing, Mamma. And hello to the rest of you ladies, as well!”

Miriam and her partner, Naomi, scooted their chairs to allow Millie and Nora room to step onto the wide wooden porch. Lizzie sat in one of the chairs, smiling as little Ella babbled a greeting to Millie. Beneath the overhang of the roof it felt cooler, although several of the ladies fanned themselves with flat cardboard fans from the funeral home in New Haven.

“How was your ride with Ira?” Mammi asked. “You must’ve gone quite a long way—and ya brought somebody back with ya, I see.”

Butterflies filled Millie’s stomach. She sensed she’d better chat a bit before she sprang her questions on her grandmother, but she wasn’t keen on having these neighbor ladies know her business just yet. “It was a more eventful ride than we figured on,” she replied, and as she recounted the rig wreck everyone agreed that she’d been very fortunate—that God had been watching out for her and Ira when his mare had spooked.

“Luke and Nora gave us a ride back into Willow Ridge,” Millie continued in a hopeful tone. Impulsively she grabbed her mother’s hand. “She’s takin’ Ira’s broken wheel to the carriage shop in Cedar Creek tomorrow, and she’s asked me to ride along, Mammi! Is it all right if I go?”

“The Cedar Creek Mercantile’s right across the road from the carriage shop,” Miriam said with a warm smile. “They carry such a variety of—”

“Don’t even
think
about gettin’ into that car, missy,” came a gruff male voice from behind them.

Millie’s heart sank. Even before she turned to face Dawdi, she heard him huffing with the effort it had taken to come up the long lane.

“You’ll be tendin’ the laundry tomorrow,” her grandfather continued tersely. “What were ya thinkin’, to bother your
mammi
with such an impertinent question?”

Millie’s eyes closed in humiliation. All around her the women kept quiet, fanning faster, waiting to see how this scene would play out. Beside her, Nora kept hold of Millie’s hand and turned to face Dawdi.

“I’m coming first thing in the morning to help with the laundry,” Nora replied. “We won’t leave until the clothes are hung out and the kitchen’s cleaned—”

“No, you’ve got it all wrong.” Dawdi glared at Nora and then looked away, as though the sight of her would contaminate him. “Don’t be comin’ to the house, hear me? You’re not welcome there.”

Mammi let out a little cry as the other women sucked in their breath. Millie wanted to melt and trickle between the floorboards of the porch. She tried to ease her hand away, but her mother held on with gentle strength.

“How many times must I ask your forgiveness, Dat?” Nora murmured. There was a hitch in her voice, but she stood firm. “Seven times? Seventy times seven?”

“Don’t you go mockin’ me nor the
Gut
Book, neither!” he snapped. When he grabbed the bottom of the porch railing to keep his balance, his face grew as ruddy as a raw steak. “I made it as plain as the nose on your face that I wanted no part of—”

“Gabe, I don’t like what I’m hearin’. Not one little bit,” another male voice interrupted.

Millie nipped her lip. Bishop Tom was striding toward them, wiping his damp face with a bandanna as he focused intently on her grandfather.

“I couldn’t help but overhear what ya said to Nora,” the bishop continued. His expression was as stormy as Millie had ever seen it, for ordinarily Tom Hostetler was a mild-mannered fellow. “I’ve already warned ya—twice—that nursin’ this old grudge is arrogant and sinful. As your bishop, I’m sayin’ you’re to make a kneelin’ confession before the members in church, two Sundays from now,” he said sternly. Then his face softened. “But as your friend, I’m beggin’ ya to come clean before Jesus right this minute.
Please
, Gabe. Your stubborn pride’s takin’ ya down the same broken road Hiram Knepp chose.”

Millie held her breath, along with the other women around them. The chain of the porch swing stopped creaking. The birds stopped singing in the orchard, and she sensed the menfolk in the yard had ceased their visiting to follow this confrontation. It was a serious matter when a bishop told someone to kneel and confess in front of the congregation, and a grievous offense when that someone refused—especially since Dawdi had served as a preacher for most of his life.

But her grandfather didn’t reply. He looked off toward the apple trees as though he was intent on watching the fruit ripen.

Bishop Tom stepped around to the other side of Dawdi to look him in the eye. “Ya know as well as I do that the next step is shunnin’, Gabe,” he said in a rueful voice. “Is that what ya want? Really?”

Dawdi turned to glare up at Nora. “See the trouble you’ve caused us?” he muttered. “If you’re not gonna follow our Old Order ways, then leave us be. And leave Millie to grow up the way we raised her instead of leadin’ her into your English temptation.”

At that, her grandfather turned stiffly and hobbled down the lane, grabbing his back. Millie choked on a sob, bitterly disappointed—and heartsick for Nora, whose face crumpled as her head fell forward.

“I’m sorry ya had to go through this yet again,” the bishop murmured. “If I can help ya, Nora—or Millie or Wilma—I’ll do my best. Meanwhile, I hope all of us will keep prayin’ about this unfortunate situation. God knows best how to handle it, and we need to be open to His guidance.”

Bishop Tom sighed, returning to where the men sat beneath the trees. Most of them were standing up, folding their lawn chairs. The women on the porch rose, as well, maintaining a silence that felt as stifling as the late-afternoon heat.

“Millie, I’m so sorry,” Nora rasped. “This isn’t what I intended.”

“I know.” Millie’s voice cracked as she broke into tears. “I know.”