A Promise for Miriam (21 page)

“But she’s a
wunderbaar
teacher,” Gabe protested. “You can’t just up and fire her.”

Clemens shrugged. “Teachers are easily replaced. A woman’s place is in the home. Scripture says as much. Generally we hire an older girl for a year or two until she weds. Miriam King should be married and raising
bopplin
like the rest of the women in our community.”

Putting his hands into his pockets and gazing out over his acreage, Clemens continued. “I’ll be frank. I’ve seen the glances you send her way.”

“I don’t know what you’re—”

“It’s best to put such thoughts behind you. My own son moved to a different district, hoping he might have a chance with her if he did. Aden thought she might consider him in another light when he came back.”

Gabe was dumbstruck. He could not believe that this man he barely knew would be having this conversation with him, and he was stupefied at the things he was saying.

Clemens shook his head. “Makes no difference to me who Aden marries, only that he does and soon. But if he can’t win her, with all this—” The man’s hand came out to encompass his fields, barns, and house. “Then I would think you’d be wasting your time as you try to resurrect Kline’s place.”

Scowling, he turned and walked across the front of the house, stopping to greet another family who had driven up.

Grace tugged on his arm. He’d forgotten about her as he watched Clemens strut away. Strut was the only word for it, rather like a peacock. He’d seen some of the birds once, and the man acted in exactly the same way—feathers plumed out and hoping all would see. There was an
Englischer
back in Indiana who kept several of the birds on his farm. He was a city guy, and his wife insisted on purchasing them because they ate snakes. Gabe had told the couple that snakes weren’t a big problem in their area, but the wife had wanted them anyway. She said she felt better tending her garden when she looked up and saw those peacocks strutting around.

The memory made him smile and eased the tension and anger that had begun building since Clemens first started talking.

When Gabe leaned down to see what Grace wanted, she whispered, “He’s grumpy.”

“Think so?”

Grace nodded, her
kapp
strings bouncing.

“Then let’s head inside and find some happy people. I know a certain schoolteacher who is going to want to see you.” When they walked through the door, though, it was Hannah who snagged Grace away and led her to the women’s and children’s chairs.

Gabe walked to the men’s side, making small talk about the weather and the projected cost of seed on his way. But he had trouble focusing on the conversations swirling around him, and twice he had to ask people to repeat what they had just said. He kept glancing over to the other side of the room, trying to catch a glimpse of Miriam. When he finally did, she was standing beside Aden and laughing.

Aden Schmucker, whose father owned this prosperous spread– yet Aden had moved to a different district, a more liberal district from what Gabe had heard.

She was smiling and talking with Aden, whose father had correctly pointed out that Gabe’s own place was tumbling down around his ears. Who had told him Miriam would never consider a relative of a student. Who had said they should find another teacher because she belonged in the home.

Those thoughts collided in his mind and bumped against the feelings that had been growing in his heart. It would crush Miriam to lose her job. It wasn’t fair for Clemens to decide such a thing. She should be able to teach as long as she felt called to do so.

He focused again on Aden.

A young man, he was pleasant and kind. He’d shown up to help look for Grace when he didn’t even know Gabe or his daughter. And now he was home for the holidays. If Gabe wasn’t mistaken, it seemed he was home with a specific purpose in mind, an agenda, almost—a very pretty agenda who was wearing a forest green dress, a white apron, and a white
kapp
that covered beautiful hair the color of a moonless sky.

Miriam excused herself from Aden just before the service was about to begin. She hadn’t wanted to be rude, but she wished to sit next to her family. She had hoped to be able to speak with Gabe and Grace. She smiled at the little girl, who she saw was tucked in under her
mamm
’s wing.

No time for talking, though, as everyone stood and began singing from the
Ausbund
. They had sung through the first hymn and were well into the
Loblied
, the German words rising around her and erasing the aggravation she’d felt at not being able to speak with Gabe, at not knowing how to answer Aden, at so many questions. The voices rising in unison had a calming effect on her. They always had, and she supposed they always would.

Such simple beauty.

Their voices joined together until she couldn’t distinguish any single one, only the blended sound, reminding her of something natural, like the wind in the trees. The second hymn ended, and Grace held the final note a second longer than everyone else. Though she was only humming, and surely Miriam was the only one who heard it, the sound was charming and added an extra measure of peace to her heart.

She reached down and ran a hand over the back of the young girl’s
kapp
, momentarily forgetting her promise to keep a professional distance. Detachment was difficult in this setting. Though the Schmuckers’ house was quite large compared to her parents’, it was still Plain and known to her in the way that stepping into any Amish house was familiar.

The custom of their community was to rotate the location of the church meeting place. It fell to each family to host church approximately once a year. It mattered not if your home was small or large, if you were poor or if
Gotte
had provided abundantly. Miriam had never given such matters much thought. Amish life strove to emphasize humility. Her students dressed the same. Each walked to school or came in a buggy of the same style or rode in Eli’s buggy because their parents lived at the furthermost edge of the school’s reach.

As the first sermon began, Miriam found her mind wandering. Generally their houses and farms were similar. Some spreads were smaller and some acreage had a harder time producing good crops, but if anyone fell on difficult times, others pitched in to help. In the last few years the majority of families supplemented their farming income with cottage industries—things such as carpentry, crafts, and services.

It was rare for a family to be in serious want. She’d had occasion to deal with only a few. Times of sickness or injury, in which case the deacons held auctions to help. There had been a case of need involving a moral issue with the father of the family. She’d never learned the exact details in that situation—and she didn’t want to know.

The husband had eventually left the church and filed for divorce. Under their rules, the woman was unable to remarry, but they had all provided for her. Eventually she had sold their farm and moved back to Ohio with her parents.

Miriam glanced up when the first sermon ended. Had thirty minutes already passed since the singing? Scriptures were read and they knelt for silent prayer before the main sermon. Miriam knew she needed to pray for guidance. The realization that she had heard none of the previous sermon was proof that her heart was troubled.

Why did Aden’s
dat
have so much? And why did Gabe have to struggle so? Was this the way of things everywhere? Was this
Gotte’s wille?

Questions whirled in her mind as she considered her place in the group of people assembled in the room, her place in the community.

Was she running, as her
dat
had suggested? And if she was, running from what? Tears pricked her eyes as confusion clouded her thoughts. Each time she prayed, she only had more questions.

As the pastor stepped forward and began to preach on the birth of the Christ Child, her heart began to settle. Grace scooted closer to her on the bench. Her
mamm
looked over the top of the girl’s head and smiled.

“You will conceive and give birth to a son, and you are to call him Jesus. He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High.” The pastor continued to talk about the Scripture and how Mary was the perfect example of
gelassenheit.

Miriam didn’t think calmness and composure came easily to Jesus’ mother. She supposed Mary was as confused as she would have been on hearing those words. Some things didn’t change with the times.

Grace began to fidget, and Abigail pulled a small picture book from her bag and handed it to her. It was amazing to Miriam the things her mother thought to bring to church, but then, with her number of grandchildren, no doubt the years had taught her to come to the service prepared.

Glancing up, she caught Gabe watching them. Then she saw him nod his thanks. How hard it must be for him to sit across the room with his daughter among strangers. Only they weren’t strangers—not anymore. She smiled in return, pleased they could ease his worries. Tuning in again to the sermon, she managed to focus easily on Christmas and Mary, the Christ Child and
gelassenheit.

She was surprised, a short time later, to find that the service had ended, her
mamm
was waking Grace, and it was time to help with the lunch preparations.

Chapter 25

G
race decided there were some things about talking she liked, and there were some things she didn’t.

Going through the food line, it was easy enough to shake her head at the dishes offered that were terrible—and several were. Broccoli casserole? Uh-uh. Turnip greens? No way. But sweet potatoes weren’t so bad, and she knew her dad was keeping an eye on her plate, so she had to add some things he would be happy about.

Talking came in handy when she hit the dessert table.

“Shoofly pie?” Esther asked.

“Yes, please.”

Esther smiled, but she didn’t say a word to show she was surprised. Grace wanted to run around the table and hug her for that, but she didn’t.

“There you go. Come back if you’re still hungry.”

Her voice was soft, soft, soft—like Stormy, the kitten she hoped was waiting for her at Miriam’s.

She hoped she hadn’t forgotten. She hoped her dad would still allow it. She hoped maybe Stormy could be her Christmas present.

“Will you be okay by yourself?” Her dad stood there with a big plate of food heaped high. How could he eat so much? It would take her a week or more to fit all of that inside, and then her stomach would burst open like a water balloon the boys sometimes played with in the summer.

“
Ya
.”

“We’re going to the barn, Grace. Want to go?” Sadie shifted from foot to foot. “The Schmuckers have a special barn with baby animals you can pet, and we can go there after we eat. Aden said we could.”

Something crossed over her dad’s face, like when he was mad at the bull, but it disappeared quick as lightning across the sky.

“If you want to, you can go with Sadie. I’ll come find you later.”

Grace did want to see baby animals. Why would they even have babies in the winter? She thought that only happened in the spring. Maybe she could ask Miriam or Esther about it. And she could ask now instead of having to write it.

That was another good thing about talking. You didn’t have to search around for a piece of paper and a pencil every time you had a question or wanted to say something.

She walked down the front porch steps with Sadie, careful not to spill her plate or her drink. The girls crossed over to the barn and picked out a quiet place in the corner. They were just sitting down on one of the overturned crates when the Lapp boys came up.

“Uh-oh,” Sadie said. She stuffed a piece of baked turkey in her mouth as she poked Grace in the ribs with her elbow. “Look. Here they come.”

The boys had left their plates on the other side of the open room. This was the biggest barn Grace had ever been in. She looked up and saw skylights in the roof at the top. They were way up there.

“Look at Grace and Sadie. Always sitting together.”

“Someone
has
to sit with Grace since she won’t talk!”

Both boys started giggling.

Sadie and Grace glanced at each other, rolled their eyes at the same exact moment, and then scooted closer together. Maybe they could form a barrier that would keep the boys out.

“One’s tiny,” Adam said, poking a finger at Sadie. He was the taller one and a year older than Grace. She sure didn’t think he was any smarter.

“Yeah, and one’s stupid.” Luke was shorter, probably Grace’s height, and he was very skinny. She was thinking she could push him over without too much trouble.

“Hey, Sadie. I kind of wanted some of that pie, but I forgot to get any.” Adam reached for Sadie’s plate, but she held it out of his reach.

“Yeah. Apple’s his favorite.” Luke walked around to the other side, intent on helping his brother grab it.

Why had they decided to sit off all alone? Anyone watching might think they were playing, but they weren’t. These boys were big bullies, and someone needed to teach them a lesson.