Harvest of Blessings Read online

  But Millie was sixteen. This gal was his age.

  And she’d come racing out of the Glick place as though she’d done something she didn’t want to get caught at.

  Very interesting. Very, very interesting.

  Chapter Two

  Millie Glick grinned as Ira Hooley winked at her from the pew bench directly across from hers. They were serving as side-sitters for Annie Mae and Adam, so only about twelve feet of hardwood floor separated them—as well as Preacher Ben, Bishop Tom, and her grandfather, who’d been conducting the church service.

  As the wedding began, the couple rose to repeat their wedding vows. Millie’s heart thumped so hard she barely noticed all the folks crowded into Bishop Tom’s home. Nor did she pay any mind when her grandfather scowled at her from the preachers’ bench. Of course Preacher Gabe Glick was frowning at her for flirting with Ira—that’s all he knew how to do, it seemed. But this wedding was such a welcome morning away from caring for her grandmother, Millie didn’t care.

  Soon she’d have to return to that stifling house—unless she dared to accept the invitation to adventure that sparkled in Ira’s eyes. She’d catch a lecture when she got back, but so what? The monotony of caring for a grandmother who drifted farther away with each passing day made Millie almost welcome her grandfather’s tirade. It was a sign he was still breathing.

  And isn’t that a fine picture of your life at sixteen? Checkin’ to see that two really old people are still breathin’ as they nap?

  “Adam and Annie Mae, as ya repeat your marriage vows,” Bishop Tom was saying, “you’re not to forget, in the intense love ya share for each other at this moment, that the promises ya make today bind ya together as man and wife forever. Other than the vows ya made when ya joined the church last month, these promises are the most important words you’ll say in your entire lives.”

  Despite the bishop’s solemn warning, Annie Mae’s face radiated a joy Millie envied. As best friends, they’d shared many exhilarating, life-altering moments, but their relationship wouldn’t be the same now that Annie Mae was marrying Adam. Millie sighed. Her circle of girlfriends was shrinking, and living with her grandparents hadn’t exactly improved her social life. Rumspringa was feeling like a huge letdown.

  Ira blew her a kiss and Millie choked on a laugh. When Preacher Ben and her grandfather glanced her way, she gazed demurely at her lap. Oh, but she was going to catch it after the wedding let out. She forced herself to listen to the same questions and answers Old Order brides and grooms had exchanged for centuries.

  Will you ever get the chance to marry ? Will Ira keep comin’ around, or will he lose interest while ya live under an old preacher’s watchful eye? He’s twenty-nine. Handsome. Plenty of other gals would jump into his buggy without bein’ asked twice.

  Millie stole another glance at Ira. His mop of rich brown hair glimmered in the sunlight that poured through the windows, and he looked very much like a groom in his black trousers and white shirt. But would he ever settle down? Ira’s aversion to joining the church was no secret, so maybe he and his older brother Luke would remain bachelors together in their apartment above the gristmill. Or maybe they’d jump the fence and live English, despite the way their older brother, Preacher Ben, kept after them to commit to the Plain faith.

  Millie’s morose thoughts vanished the moment Bishop Tom gave the benediction. As everyone stood up, Ira strode over to grab her hand.

  “Let’s sign the marriage certificate and make ourselves scarce,” he murmured. “I can think of better ways to spend this summer day than hangin’ around with all these folks watchin’ us.”

  Millie’s eyes widened as he bussed her cheek. “What about the dinner? We can’t leave our places beside Annie Mae and Adam empty, or people will—”

  “Can’t we?”

  As Ira gazed playfully into her eyes, Millie’s heart danced. He did want to spend time with her, private time like they hadn’t enjoyed for weeks! Yet the idea of skipping Annie Mae’s wedding feast seemed like a betrayal—not to mention a missed opportunity to eat a delicious meal she didn’t have to cook.

  “Can we eat and then leave?” she pleaded. “I’m starved half out of my mind.”

  Ira’s sigh sounded impatient. He led her through the crowd that had gathered around Adam and Annie Mae, to the small table where the certificate awaited them. Bishop Tom was signing it. He smiled as he handed Ira the pen.

  “Well, it’s another happy day in Willow Ridge,” he remarked. “It means Annie Mae’s younger brothers and sisters have a stable home with a man in their lives. And another fine young couple’s stayin’ here in town to make our district stronger.”

  Ira pressed his lips together, considering his reply. “Adam’s a better man than I am, takin’ on four little kids and a sixteen-year-old sister-in-law.” He signed his name with a flourish and then handed the pen to Millie. “Let’s hope this’ll keep Hiram in Higher Ground and out of our hair.”

  Millie winced at Ira’s choice of words. Poor Annie Mae had suffered the ultimate humiliation when her father had whacked off her long, braided hair last spring. Although the excommunicated bishop of Willow Ridge had started a new colony—under dubious circumstances—no one really believed that Hiram Knepp would mind his own business, even if he had a new home and a new woman.

  “We don’t know who’s bought his house,” she remarked. “Let’s hope it’s not somebody who got the place because of some sort of crooked connection to Hiram.”

  “Let’s think positive,” Bishop Tom insisted. “All our speculatin’ won’t change God’s will for us, so I’m for sittin’ down to a feast with our families and friends.”

  “And did ya make ice cream to go with the wedding cake, Bishop?” Ira asked. “That’s a treat worth lookin’ forward to.”

  Millie chuckled at the way Ira had changed the subject—but Bishop Tom did make the best ice cream ever. “And Miriam baked the wedding cake, so we know there’ll be none better.”

  “Ya got that right,” Tom agreed. “While a white cake’s not my favorite, Miriam bakes it up moister than anybody else. It’ll be perfect with the peppermint stick and chocolate ice cream I made. I’ll see ya there.”

  As the bishop went over to greet other folks, Millie elbowed Ira. “See? We don’t want to miss the meal—”

  “But the cake and ice cream won’t be served until suppertime,” Ira reminded her. “If we hang around that long, we’ll miss out on a sweeter way to spend the afternoon, ain’t so?”

  Millie smiled. “So we can have the kind of sweets you’re talkin’ about after dinner, and then come back later for cake and ice cream? Like havin’ our cake and eatin’ it, too, jah ?”

  When Ira laughed, Millie’s heart danced to the music in his voice. This day was shaping up to be one of the best she’d had in a long time, and she was determined to enjoy every moment of it.

  “And where do you think you’re going, Millie? Your grandmother’s home alone and she’ll be needing a bite to eat by now.”

  At the sound of her dat’s voice, Millie bit back a retort. She waved Ira ahead to hitch the horse to his buggy. They’d eaten their wedding dinner quickly and then mingled with folks while they’d inched toward the back door, but her watchful father had caught them. It wouldn’t be a good idea to smart off, so Millie worded her request carefully.

  “Dat, would ya mind too much takin’ a plate over? Please?” she asked. “It’s been weeks since I’ve gotten out to—”

  “If you want to be treated like an adult, you’ve got to put your responsibilities to others first, young lady.” Her father’s hazel eyes hardened like marbles. “When you agreed to take care of your grandmother—”

  “I had no choice!” Millie blurted, even though it was the wrong thing to say to this man who constantly reminded her of her duty.

  “Life doesn’t usually let us choose,” her father replied stiffly. “We must learn to bear our burdens, and the burdens of others—”

  “And be
sides,” Millie continued in a rush, “Mammi would be glad to see somebody besides me. She’s been askin’ where you and Mamm have been keepin’ yourselves, and—”

  “That’ll be enough of your sass.” Dat’s face was getting nearly as red as his hair. “You know I don’t approve of you seeing Ira, because he’s nearly twice your age. Now fix your grandmother a plate and—”

  “Miriam’s packed your parents enough food to last several days,” Millie’s mother interrupted as she joined them. As she shifted year-old Ella on her hip, she pointed to a cardboard box on the table where women were cutting pies. “I told her I’d take it over while it was still warm. But I’d be glad to let you carry it, Atlee.”

  “That’s not the point,” Dat stated in a rising voice. “If you keep covering for Millie every time she falls short, and condoning the company she keeps—”

  “Why is it such a chore for you to visit your mother? She’s only a block away—and she always perks up when she sees Ella.” Mamm flashed Millie a tense smile. “Go have your fun, honey-bug. I know you’ll be back to get your grandparents ready for bed.”

  Millie didn’t wait to be told twice. “Denki so much, Mamm. Mammi’s been sleepin’ a lot lately, so don’t be surprised if she won’t eat much. Bye, honey-bun,” she added as she kissed her baby sister’s chubby cheek.

  As Millie scurried away from the wedding crowd, she tamped down her rising distress. Was it her imagination, or was Dat’s fuse getting shorter? Or was she, being a teenager, to blame for his moods? She hoped her mother wouldn’t catch a lecture from Dat—and that she wouldn’t have to load the heavy box into the rig by herself. Millie paused in the yard. Maybe she should offer to deliver that food.

  But Ira’s wave made Millie jog faster, until she was springing up into the rig beside him. “Sorry,” she murmured.

  Ira clapped the lines lightly across his horse’s back. “Hope your dat didn’t give ya too much grief,” he said. “I figured I’d best get out of the way, or I’d only provoke him.”

  It occurred to Millie that a different sort of man might’ve stuck around to help her, but she’d known all along that Ira Hooley was only out for a good time. “It’s behind us now. Mamm sidetracked him.”

  “Is it just me he doesn’t like? Or does he have a burr up his butt, in general?”

  Ira’s imagery made Millie laugh, although he’d hit upon a subject that wasn’t funny. As the clip-clop, clip-clop of the horse’s hooves took them away from Willow Ridge, she relaxed into the arm he’d slung around her shoulders. “I don’t know,” she said with a sigh. “He must’ve had his reasons for buildin’ his house practically in the Morning Star district—away from the rest of the family—back when he married Mamm. I suppose it’s closer to the sale barn he runs with Zeb Schrock—”

  “And far enough from his folks’ place to keep the peace,” Ira remarked. “Can’t say I’d like havin’ a preacher for a dat.”

  “Jah, the way I understand it, Preacher Gabe was none too happy when Dat partnered with Mennonites to become an auctioneer. But that’s history,” Millie said with a lift in her voice. She smiled at Ira, hoping to change the topic of conversation.

  Ira kissed the tip of her nose. “It’s that redhead thing,” he teased. “You and your dat are too much alike, both of ya wantin’ to have your way. It’s a fight you’ll never win, Millie, goin’ up against an Amishman. They’ve got to be right, ya know.”

  Millie looked away. She didn’t need to be reminded that Atlee Glick, as the head of the household, did indeed have the upper hand. And what did it say about Ira, that he spoke of Amishmen as though they were a breed apart . . . as though he didn’t consider himself one of them?

  “So why’re we talkin’ about my dat?” she muttered. It wouldn’t do to let Ira know she was upset, so she started a different topic. “Couldn’t help but notice your brother wasn’t at the wedding.”

  Ira let out a grunt. “Luke wasn’t wild about watchin’ his old girlfriend get hitched. They had a tiff when Annie Mae wanted some things out of the Knepp house a while back, so he wrote her off.”

  Millie rolled her eyes. Annie Mae had told her, in no uncertain terms, that she had been the one to end that relationship. Millie was glad her best friend had found a much better man than Luke Hooley to hook up with. Even knowing that Hiram Knepp would probably use his youngest kids as an excuse to cause more trouble, Adam Wagler had willingly taken in the four children, not yet in school, as well as Nellie, who’d just graduated from eighth grade. Adam was head-over-heels for Annie Mae.

  Once again Millie felt a rush of yearning, wondering if such a wonderful fellow would ever court her. How long would she have to live in her grandparents’ home, hidden away from potential boyfriends as her rumspringa passed her by?

  A few moments later they were rolling past Millie’s house, where the treetops swayed gently in the breeze and the porch swing rocked as though someone invisible sat in it. It wasn’t a large house by Amish standards, but there’d been no need to add on to it after she’d been born because nearly fourteen years had passed before baby Ella came along a couple of years ago.

  Millie blinked. For a moment, she’d been looking at her home with a sense of utter detachment, as though she’d never been inside it. She’d lived in this place on the far edge of Willow Ridge forever, yet the windows gazed back at her like empty eyes, devoid of feeling.

  “Ya got quiet on me,” Ira remarked. “Need to go inside for anything? Or for a little smoochin’?”

  “No, let’s—well—” Millie flushed, wondering how to give him the answer he wanted. She craved the kisses Ira was hinting at, yet the scrap she’d had with Dat had set her on edge. “Who knows when my parents might come home? They weren’t exactly enjoying the wedding celebration when I left.”

  “Sorry,” he replied with a shrug. “I thought—”

  “Jah, well, thinkin’ can get ya in trouble,” Millie quipped. “You’ve told me so yourself.”

  As the next several minutes passed in silence, Millie kicked herself for acting like such a wet blanket. Was it her imagination, or was this outing with Ira getting more awkward by the moment? She racked her brain for something safe to talk about. “So how’s your new mill comin’ along? Will your store open soon?”

  “Got the gas refrigeration units installed this week. The shelves for the bulk foods are all set, too. So, jah,” Ira said with a confident nod, “we’ll open in a week or so. How many dozen eggs can I sell ya, girlie? Laid by certified free-range chickens that’re eatin’ organic feed.”

  Millie let out a laugh. “Why’s it such a big deal that chickens are peckin’ in the yard instead of livin’ in coops?”

  “Lots of English are convinced the eggs taste better if the hens aren’t confined,” he explained with a rise of his dark eyebrows. “They think cages are inhumane—so Luke and I are sellin’ them what they think they want. Organic specialty grains are all the rage, too. Along with millin’ local farmers’ corn and wheat, we’re offerin’ spelt and millet and quinoa we get from Plain mills around the country.”

  Millie’s eyes widened. “If I have no idea how to cook with that stuff, does that make me stupid?”

  Well, ya just begged to be made a fool of. What’s with ya today ?

  Ira squeezed her shoulders. “Nah, it makes ya Plain, Millie. Simpler. Nothin’ wrong with that.”

  And yet, as they circled the outer limits to the north of Willow Ridge, past homes that belonged to Schrock cousins and other Mennonite families, Millie sensed that Ira did find something wrong with being Plain. She wondered if the Hooley brothers might drift all their lives, never committing to the Old Order or to marriage. Maybe her dat had known that all along, even if her mamm allowed her to go out with Ira.

  Why does this have to be so complicated? Why am I not having the fun I’d hoped for today ?

  As the rig headed back toward town, the Wagler place came into view. Millie sat taller, taking in the two-story structure with an add
ition that had put on a porch and extended the front room and the kitchen, years ago. “Adam and Matthias have done some painting and fixin’ up,” she remarked, gazing eagerly at the home where Annie Mae and her sibs would live. “Used to be, you could tell by the difference in paint colors which was the old part and the newer part. It’ll make them all a real nice home now,” she added wistfully.

  Ira glanced at her as though she’d sprouted a second head. “That’s what happens when a woman enters the picture,” he teased. “Adam painted all the rooms and refaced the kitchen cabinets, too, usin’ the money he got from sellin’ that antique motorcycle he’d stashed in his barn. And who knew about that?”

  Annie Mae knew. And she believed Adam was sufferin’ deep down inside, the same as she was. And now they’re both so happy I can hardly stand to watch them.

  Millie sighed, but then her breath caught in her throat. The house up the hill, which had once belonged to Hiram Knepp, was buzzing with activity. “Looks like your new neighbor’s movin’ in. That’s a mighty big van.”

  “It’s a big house to fill with furniture.” Ira, too, gawked at the men who were wheeling tables and couches out of the truck. “Can’t help but wonder what sort of folks bought it, because I doubt any Amish or Mennonites would’ve coughed up the bucks for that custom horse barn and the land that mansion’s sittin’ on. My oh my, would ya look at those wheels!”

  Millie frowned, not seeing any vehicle other than the moving van. There was, however, a woman wearing tiny jean shorts and a clingy lime T-shirt, with a sparkly blue ball cap and big sunglasses. As her auburn ponytail swung with each step she took, Millie’s heart sank lower.

  Ira was spellbound, and he’d not even spoken to this stranger. He was so far gone, he probably wasn’t aware that he’d stopped the buggy in the middle of the road to gape at this woman.

  “Wonder what her husband does?” Millie speculated in a purposeful tone. “It’s not like Willow Ridge has a lot of high-dollar occupations for him to—”