Never Far From Home (The Miller Family 2) Read Online Free PDF Page B

“I love you too. And soon I shall tell mamm and daed all about James since he’s again invited us out to their farm in Charm. It would be rude to ignore the invitation, but I won’t go without their permission.”
    At least they had reached an understanding. Hannah relaxed against the back of the seat for the remainder of the trip.
    The day that the Lord had made was a blessed gift after weeks of clouds and rain. She could enjoy the companionship of her favorite niece without feeling disloyal to Julia.
    She also felt mighty glad that her new daughter, Phoebe, was years away from such tribulations. Danki, Lord God. Danki!

     
    Simon halted the team of Belgians to sop his brow with his handkerchief. The spring plowing was going well. The rains had been plentiful enough to leave the soil soft and tillable, but not overly abundant to turn his fields into a quagmire. With the sun just over the western hills, he decided this row was as good as any to stop for the day. He listened intently to the sound of an approaching wagon on the road. Was that his daughter returning from Sugar Creek with Hannah? When the wagon rumbled past his lane, Simon’s anticipation changed to annoyance.
    How a parent worried when a child was away from home. Every year the frequency of car-buggy accidents increased as more people moved into the fertile, rolling valleys of central Ohio. He would speak to Emma at supper. These trips needn’t turn into all-day excursions, complete with picnics and those silly coffee drinks with whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles! Both women had chores waiting for them…not the least of which was supper. A growl from his stomach turned his thoughts along just those lines. What did Julia mention she would make tonight? Roast duck with sage stuffing. A rather fancy meal for a weeknight, but Simon wasn’t complaining. Even his back pain lessened upon thinking about slices of moist, dark leg meat.
    After putting the horses into the barn and sending in Matthew to rub them down, Simon decided to have a look in the unused washhouse. He’d spotted Emma scurrying in and out of the building from the kitchen window this morning. In this room his mamm had washed clothes in galvanized basins filled from a hand pump. And everyone had taken their Saturday night bath in an old copper tub. Water had been heated in kettles on the woodstove, steaming up the windows all winter long. Sometimes he yearned for how things were when he was young, but he was alone in such sentiments. Julia loved hot, running water to ease her stiff, arthritic joints. Now the outbuilding was cobwebby and vacant after they had added a bathroom onto the back of the house.
    But unused it was not, as Simon pushed open the wooden slat door. Emma had commandeered the room, filling it from floor to ceiling with drying herbs, plants, weeds, and long stringy roots. Some hung from pegs, others dangled from lines stretched across the room at head level, while leaves and twigs lay across a makeshift table built from plywood and two sawhorses.
    With his hands on his hips he surveyed the room. He’d never seen the porcelain mortar and pestle sitting in the middle of the table. The whole room took on an odd, macabre look that Simon didn’t like one bit. He saw boxes of plastic storage bags of various sizes, and an array of cutting tools only a hospital surgeon would ever need.
    First the barn loft workroom and now this? What is going on with my elder daughter? Simon hurried to the house, eager to rest his sore muscles, refresh himself with a cup of strong coffee, and talk to the voice of reason—his wife.
    “Julia,” he said as soon as he took his place at the table. “Have you seen what’s going on in the old washhouse?”
    “ Jah , Emma uses the space for her dye-making.” Julia placed a mug of coffee before him, refilled her cup from the pot, and then returned to the propane refrigerator for milk.
    Simon noticed celery, carrots, and green peppers on the cutting