An Amish Family Reunion by Mary Ellis Read Free Book Online Page A

that was a kinder way of asking,
“Did you drop out of the sky from a passing flying saucer?”
    He resumed his whispered mode of conversation. “I don’t go to social gatherings much. The one time I was talked into playing volleyball, I was pretty terrible. When I tried to return a serve, the ball bounced off my forehead instead.” He touched a spot above his eyebrow.
    Phoebe bit her cheek to keep from laughing. “Volleyball isn’t as easy as it looks. I myself have never developed much expertise at the game.”
    He nodded, those silky bangs obscuring his piercing dark eyes. “I’m afraid it wasn’t just volleyball. When I went to a Saturday softball game behind the Winesburg Library, my cousin talked me into playing centerfield. His team was short a man or he never would have asked. Anyway, a fly ball came sailing right at me. When I put up my mitt to catch it, the sun blinded me, and the ball fell right through my glove and landed at my feet. Then it took me three attempts to pick up the ball because I was so flustered. Needless to say, the other team scored an infield home run, and nobody’s asked me to fill in ever since.” He added an easy laugh. “Truth is, Miss Miller, I’m not much good at sports and that doesn’t bother me. Although I don’t admit that to my own kind.” He again gestured with his head toward the left.
    A dozen ideas swam through her head, but with Eli Riehl sitting so close, she could hardly place them into a sensible order. Winesburg
?
His ill-fated baseball debut had been in her hometown, yet she’d managed never to run into him.
    “Phoebe,” she said after a half-minute pause. “Please call me Phoebe.”
    That pulled his mouth into a smile. “So, that’s why we’ve never officially met. I stay away from parties—I only go to barn raisings—and the singing at church services is enough singing for me. But, actually, I think I have seen you once before. It was at an auction fund-raiser. You wandered off from everybody else with a giant pad of paper. I followed you to see where you were going and what you were up to.”
    Just then the speakers blared with loud, raucous rock music. The driver quickly adjusted the volume down slightly, but the music rendered further conversation—or any thought process—impossible. Mrs. Stoltzfus, one of their chaperones, bustled up the aisle with a speed that belied her substantial body girth. After a short discussion with the driver, the music ceased altogether.
    A little while later, after the bus had picked up the Geauga County travelers, Mrs. Stoltzfus returned to the front and clapped her hands. “Welcome, everyone,” she said. “Now that we are all together, I would like you to listen to an interesting story Eli told me while waiting for the bus to arrive this morning. It supposedly is true, although parts do sound far-fetched. But, either way, I think you will enjoy hearing it.”
    The crowd grew quiet as Eli Riehl stood and walked up the aisle, very dignified. Several people clapped as others patted his arm, offering words of encouragement.
    “Tell a good one, Eli,” said one girl.
    “Make up the parts you don’t remember, Eli. Makes for a better story,” said a boy two rows ahead. Apparently, this mysterious young man was only unknown to Phoebe Miller and anyone else who seldom left the farm except to go to church or the post office. She clapped lightly along with the crowd for want of something better to do.
    Eli leaned one shoulder against a pole to prepare for bumps in the road, tugged down his black vest, and cleared his throat. Phoebe swallowed hard as a case of nerves gripped her stomach, as though she were the one addressing the tour group. Quickly, she pulled out another cracker pack. While she nibbled on Nabs, Eli launched into an intriguing tale of a middle-aged schoolmarm who had lived in the Niagara Falls region. Because she’d never married and had been a poor saver, she faced her pending retirement in a state