I was saved from further harassment by the appearance of Jonah Bowman—Anna’s father and my uncle—who came in from outside. “We’re all finished here,” I said. “Anything else we can do for you?”
“Ya. Before you go, can you cut some more logs for cooking? We use propane in the house and in the wedding wagon, but I also borrowed three big cookstoves that we have going out back.” Glancing toward the kitchen, he added, “I thought I had enough wood, but I may have underestimated the need.”
We all shared a smile, knowing that the women in there would have an absolute fit if they ran short of fuel before they were finished roasting all the chickens this day would require.
“Happy to do it.”
Jake and I went outside to the toolshed, grabbed some axes, and then made our way to the woodpile, where we pulled out logs of birch and oak and began breaking them down into smaller, stove-sized pieces. Across the driveway from us, the barn’s big doors were open to the sun, and I could see people milling around inside, setting up for the reception.
We chopped for a while, quiet except for the thwack of our axes and the crisp splitting of wood.
“I guess I’ll let you off the hook—for now,” Jake said finally, pausing to wipe the sweat from his forehead. “But just let me say that I really am glad you have Rachel.”
“Thank you,” I replied, relieved he was willing to let it go.
Then he added, “After all, you’ll need someone to fill the lonely hours once I leave tomorrow.”
I couldn’t help but smile as I reached for another log and placed it on the chopping block. “Oh, yeah? You think I’ll be counting the days till you get back?” I slammed the ax down, splitting the log neatly in two.
“Absolutely. Mark my words. You’re going to miss me while I’m gone more than you can imagine.”
“Uh-huh,” I said, leaning down to pick up the larger of the two pieces and placing it on the block to split it again. “More likely, I’ll forget all about you. You’ll come back in four months’ time, and we’ll have to be reintroduced. I’ll be all, ‘What’s that? Jake who? I suppose you do look kind of familiar…’ ”
I grinned, he smirked, and together we continued working side by side, the only sounds our occasional grunts and the steady rhythm of our task. I was glad he had dropped the discussion of Rachel, but I would have liked to avoid this topic as well. We both knew that his teasing words held more than a little truth. I couldn’t imagine what the next months were going to be like without Jake around. He was headed to Missouri for blacksmithing school, something he’d been looking forward to for a long time. Though Jake had always labored alongside me in Daadi’s buggy shop, his first love was the horses that pulled those buggies. Shoeing took skill, craftsmanship, and a level of trust between animal and man that few people appreciated. I did, but only because Jake had been talking about it since we were kids.
Now that he was going to become a blacksmith, he’d be the first of the Millers to leave the buggy trade. His older brothers, Thom, Eli, and Peter, all worked in the buggy shop, as did some of their sons. On a busy day, there could be a dozen of us in there. Now it would be eleven.
“So I suppose you’re all packed,” I said, clearing my throat.
He smiled at me. “Just about.”
“You probably won’t want to come home,” I said, pretending that wouldn’t bother me in the least.
We both knew it would, though. Low-key guys like me didn’t have a lot of close friends. But since the day I’d come to live here seventeen years ago, I’d had Jake, the best friend of all.
“Are you kidding? Of course I’m coming back. You might forget me, but the horses in Lancaster County won’t. They need me.”
“At least the horses, if not the ladies,” I teased.
Before he could respond, we both heard the distinct clip-clop of hooves behind us. Turning, I spotted a familiar market wagon coming our way, a sight that always filled me with inexplicable warmth. I watched until it rolled to a stop nearby. My eyes met those of the driver, and then she softly said my name. Hers was the sweetest voice I knew beyond that of my mother’s echoes.
Rachel.
She climbed down from the wagon, a casserole dish tucked under one arm.
“Guder mariye, Tyler. Guder mariye, Jake,” she said. She smelled like a summer morning, like sweet pea blossoms. The ties of her kapp flitted in the slight breeze like butterflies.
We tipped our hats, and she and I shared a smile. As Anna’s closest friend, Rachel was one of her two newehockers, or attendants, so I wasn’t surprised that she had come early.
“Mariye, Rachel,” I said. “You’re looking pretty today.”
Blushing, she was about to respond when Jake interrupted.
“Got a full load here?” he asked, moving to the back of the wagon and peeling up a corner of the tarp to peek underneath.
“Ya. The last of the dishes and table linens.”
“Okay. We’ll get them into the barn once we’re done here.”
“Danke, Jake.”