Emma Miller - The Christmas Courtship

“You’re not. Ne , you’re not,” Phoebe insisted, reaching over and touching his arm. The moment she felt his warmth through the thick denim of his homemade coat, she snatched her hand back and gazed out the side window of the buggy.

Amish men and women didn’t whisper and laugh together in grocery stores, and they certainly didn’t touch casually. She could almost hear her stepfather’s angry scolding ringing in her ears.

Suddenly tears welled in her eyes. Hoping Joshua didn’t see them, she blinked them away. She didn’t know why she was suddenly so emotional. She was here in Hickory Grove because she wanted to be. She was here because she knew it was the right thing for her. And for John-John.

“Here we are,” Joshua announced as he reined in the bay and the buggy rolled to a halt. If he noticed she had touched him, or her response, he didn’t show it.

Phoebe glanced up to see two half-grown puppies that were a rich chestnut color bounding down the front porch steps, barking excitedly.

“That would be Silas and Adah. Chesapeake Bay retrievers. My brother Jacob raises and sells them,” Joshua explained.

As the dogs ran around the front of the buggy, Phoebe realized each was missing one rear leg. They appeared to have been born that way. She took in her breath sharply, not because she had never seen an animal with a disability, but because it didn’t seem to hinder their speed or frivolity one bit.

“ Ya , only three legs apiece. That’s why Jacob couldn’t sell them. Or wouldn’t.” He wrapped the reins around the brake lever, and the bay danced in its traces. “And he couldn’t stand the idea of seeing them put down, even though our vet said he wouldn’t be unwarranted to do it.” He glanced at her. “My brother named them after these neighbors we had in New York. Silas and Adah Snitzer. They were brother and sister. One was blind, the other deaf. They took care of each other. Led a full, good, Godly life.”

Phoebe knitted her brow. “You don’t think your neighbors would mind having dogs named after them?”

“They passed away a few years ago. Were in their nineties. Died within a day of each other.” He smiled, seeming lost in the memory of them. “But I think they would have liked the idea that Jacob named his dogs after them.” He chuckled and then slammed his thigh. “Well, guess we best go inside and get you settled. That’s my brother Jesse there on the porch. Rosemary’s boy.” He pointed. “Waiting for us, I suspect.”

Phoebe looked over to see a boy of ten or so with neatly trimmed brown hair and a sweet, lopsided smile hurrying across the covered porch toward them.

“I’m warning you now,” Joshua said as he opened the buggy door and climbed down. “He’ll talk your ear off if you let him.” He chuckled. “Not unlike me, I guess.”

Phoebe smiled but didn’t say anything as she opened her door.

“Want to take Toby up to the barn?” Joshua called to his little brother.

Jesse bounded down the porch steps and across the driveway, pulling a black wool watch cap down over his head.

On Phoebe’s side of the buggy, Joshua offered his hand to help her out of the buggy, but instead of taking it, she handed him her canvas bag. “If you could take this? Danke ,” she said, feeling as if she needed to avoid making physical contact with him.

“Sure.” Joshua caught the bag as she practically tossed it down. “Jesse, this is your cousin, Phoebe.”

Phoebe climbed down quickly. “Nice to meet you, Jesse.” A gust of wind caught the edge of her cloak and whipped it open. Dry brown and gold and orange leaves blew around her. “Goodness.” She grasped the edges of the heavy wool and pulled her outer garment tightly around her. “I didn’t expect it to be so cold here. I was thinking that because it’s farther south...” She let the sentence go unfinished, feeling now like she was the one who talked too much.

“Cold snap,” Jesse told her. “Nice to have you with us.” His words sounded rehearsed, as if his mother had told him what to say when they met. But his smile was genuine.

Jesse turned to his big brother. “I should take Phoebe inside? I can take her bag, too. We’re having chicken potpie for dinner.” Beaming, he went on faster. “I hope you like chicken potpie. It’s my mam ’s recipe. She puts peas in it. Most people don’t, but my mam does. Only Mam didn’t make it ’cause she’s laid up so my sisters made it.”

“See what I mean?” Joshua said to Phoebe. He turned to his little brother. “ Ne , I thought I’d take her in. Can you manage Toby? He needs a good rubdown and a scoop of oats.” He handed Phoebe her bag and walked around to the back of the buggy to unload the groceries. “I’ll be up directly to help you with her harness.”

“I got it,” Jesse insisted, grasping the gelding’s bridle. Bags in hand, Joshua closed the back of the buggy and his little brother began to lead the horse away, walking backward so he could still see Joshua and Phoebe. “I’ll be in shortly. I can show you around if you want, Phoebe. Show you where you’ll be sleeping and where the towels are and such.”

“Thank you. I’d like that,” she called to him as he made his way up the driveway.

“I think he likes you,” Joshua said. He led Phoebe up the front steps to the wide porch, the puppies nipping at his heels.

“Some say I have a way with children,” she answered absently, glancing at the door that led into the house.

She was suddenly nervous to see her cousin Rosemary again, to meet the rest of the family. They had to all know why she was there. Know what she had done. Her mother had said that Rosemary Stutzman Miller was as nonjudgmental as a soul could be, but it had been years since the cousins had seen each other. What if Rosemary had changed? That sometimes happened as folks aged. They became more rigid in their beliefs and ways. It had been like that with her stepfather. He hadn’t softened with age. He’d grown more rigid.

Joshua shifted the sacks of groceries in his arms, opened the door and stepped back. “ Ne! Get back, you two,” he said, laughing as he caught the pups with his booted foot, blocking their entry into the house. He looked up at Phoebe. “Go on in. If I let these two in again today, Rosemary will have me washing dishes for a week. I already accidentally let them in this morning. They made it through the kitchen, down the hall before Jesse caught them.”

“Really?” Phoebe asked, unable to hide her surprise. “You and your brothers do dishes ?” She’d suspected the Miller household was less conservative than her stepfather’s, but the Amish stuck to the old ways, and male and female tasks were laid out very explicitly.

“ Ne , not usually.” He laughed again. “We stick mostly to outside chores, but there’s no telling what Rosemary will say if I let these two drag mud through her house again.”

Phoebe nodded, then walked into the mudroom that looked like so many others she’d passed through. It even looked a lot like her mother’s, with rows of denim jackets on hooks, wool cloaks and an assortment of scarves and hats and bonnets on pegboards on the wall. On the floor were piles of boots and shoes in a great array of sizes, some set down neatly, others dropped carelessly. But the moment she stepped into the house, something had immediately felt different about it. Maybe it was her imagination, or maybe it was just the smell of baking apple pie, but Phoebe immediately felt herself relax. Because, somehow, she knew that in this house with its three-legged puppies and chatty little brothers, she would find the acceptance she had never found in her own home.