A Promise for Miriam (27 page)

“Do you always give your dog Christmas presents?”

Though her pulse jumped, she forced herself to remain still. “It’s become something of a holiday tradition between us. What brings you out to the barn, Gabe?”

He pulled out the red ribbon. “I was hoping we could see if this would fit a certain gray kitten.”

Miriam took the ribbon and fingered it. Did he have it lying around the house, or had he made a special trip to town to purchase it? “You’ve decided to let her have it?”

“
Ya
. Try looking into those brown eyes and denying her something. I do, mind you. I wouldn’t want her spoiled completely rotten, but it’s harder than you would think.”

He sat down beside her and studied Pepper. “I could probably use a good dog around my place. Will he be fathering more litters?”

“Yes, in a few months. We receive half the pups. If you’d like, I could save you one.”

“That would be
gut
. I’ll pay you for it, of course.”

“All right, if you insist.”

The silence stretched between them, though it wasn’t an uncomfortable one. She never felt awkward around him anymore, only that she needed to be careful. So many emotions fought inside herself, and she wasn’t sure which were proper to show and which she should keep tamped down. Even as they sat there, watching Pepper, she found herself wondering how Gabe and Grace had spent Christmas morning. Had it been lonely?

“How was Grace’s Christmas at home?”

“
Gut
. We had a nice quiet time together. Probably spent it much as you did.” Gabe looked at her sideways without turning his head. “Except probably you didn’t have to share a special Christmas blessing with a mouse in a box.”

Miriam smiled broadly as some of the tension left her shoulders. “No. We did not have any mice around this morning.”

“I suppose that wasn’t what you were asking me, though.” Gabe’s voice turned serious, and he stretched his legs out in front of him, reached forward, and scratched Pepper between the ears. “It’s hard to know how much Grace remembers about her
mamm
or if she misses her more on holidays. This morning she only said that heaven must have a real celebration on Christ’s birth and then she asked if I thought they exchanged gifts after lunch as we do.”

Miriam moistened her lips as she tried to think of what to say that might lessen the hurt she heard in his voice. She settled for reaching over and squeezing his hand.

“What did you tell her?”

“That I have no doubt the celebration there is grander and the gifts are even better.”

Miriam nodded and then pulled her hand away when she saw that he was staring at her fingers.

“Your parents were almost ready to open gifts.”

“Oh.” Miriam hopped up and began dusting straw off her dress. “Let me get the kitten.”

“Is he old enough?”

“Yes. He’ll be fine. I even set aside a little crate for you to take him in.” They walked into the stall where the kittens were. The mother was gone, but two kittens were left—Stormy and a calico. “David is taking the other one.”

She picked up Stormy and held him while Gabe tried to tie the ribbon around his neck. The kitten yawned sleepily, not really bothering to wake.

Gabe’s fingers hung up in the ribbon. He tried a second time with no better luck.

“Maybe we should switch,” Miriam suggested. “You take Stormy and I’ll take the ribbon.”

They swapped with some tangling of the kitten, the ribbon, and their fingers. Miriam tried to ignore the heat that shot through her when Gabe’s fingers brushed hers even as she tried to forget her embarrassment from a few minutes earlier.

She tied the ribbon quickly and then set Stormy into a small crate that held an old tattered blanket. “I’ve been putting him in here afternoons, when I’m home, so he’d be used to it. I don’t think he’ll cry at all.”

Closing the lid, she picked it up and handed it to him.

“You’re too kind to us,” Gabe said quietly, his brown eyes so full of warmth and kindness that she wanted to reach up and run her fingers over his brow, wiping away some of his worry.

“Not at all.” She took a step back. “Maybe you could leave him in the mudroom while we’re inside.”

“
Gut
idea.”

They walked back to the house side by side, not touching, but close enough that they could have.

Miriam tried not to think what it would be like if they were a family, if she were going home with him after the gift-giving. She tried not to dwell on the fact that her life seemed empty with only teaching and her parents, with no real place of her own to belong, no husband or child to care for, no one’s needs to tend. A small silent part of her wanted to throw herself in his arms and beg, “Take me with you. Take me back to your place, and we can restore it together. We can be a family—the three of us.”

She wanted to tell him about the things she dreamed of before she fell into a fitful sleep each night.

But she didn’t do any of those things.

Instead, she walked silently beside him, up the back porch steps and into the house—pausing only to leave the kitten and his crate in the mudroom.

Chapter 32

T
hough much in Wisconsin was different from what Gabe had grown up accustomed to in Indiana, the gift-giving was the same. He smiled as the women unwrapped quilting notions, new cooking gadgets, and a new set of sheets for Abigail—it seemed everyone had pitched in on that. The men oohed and aahed over farming tools and new suspenders, and one of Miriam’s brothers received a new hat.

Grace was wearing her new gloves in the house, so apparently she liked them—that and the grin on her face was a sure giveaway.

“Do you like the psalm I stitched?” Grace asked.

“It’s very
gut
.” Gabe held up the embroidered cloth that had been fastened into a frame. “I didn’t realize you knew how.”

“The older girls have been teaching us, and the boys made the frames. I messed up a little on the S in Shepherd.”

“It’s beautiful, Grace.” Gabe ran his fingers over the stitching. “Psalm 23 is
mammi
Sarah’s favorite.”

“I only had time to finish the first eight words—”

“That’s all we need. They’ll remind us of the rest.”

“Nicely done, Grace.” Abigail peered over their shoulder at the sampler. “‘The Lord is my shepherd, I lack nothing.’”

“Abigail can read my stitching,” Grace whispered.

“Did you pick that verse yourself?” Abigail asked.

“It was that or Genesis 1:1.”

“I always was partial to the Psalms. It looks like you two are quite the artists. Gabe, I want to thank you for the walnut bowl. I don’t know how you managed to work such a beautiful finish on it.”

“It gives me something to do in the evening. I’m happy you like it.”

“Grace, I have a gift for you.”

Grace’s eyes brightened as she accepted the package. Unwrapping it, a small squeal escaped as she saw first the black
kapp
and then the black apron over the green dress, and finally the black shoes like her own.

“I’ve been making Plain dolls for my
grandkinner
for years. I hope you–”

But Abigail had no chance to finish her explanation. She found herself wrapped in Grace’s hug.

“I believe she likes it,” Gabe said.

“They usually do.” Abigail led Grace off to the kitchen, enlisting her help in serving cookies and dessert as the children began to scatter to play with various gifts.

He heard Miriam thanking her for the picture Grace had drawn and placed in the blanket chest after the school presentation. “A picture of Stanley. It’s almost as though he’s at the school with me.”

Gabe was about to go and find a piece of dessert himself, even though he was sure he’d been stuffed full only an hour ago, when Noah moved beside him and nodded toward the men and women who were gathering in the sitting room.

“I believe you might want to join us to hear what David has to say.”

“
Ya
?”

“It seems he heard more about Byron Drake, his tourist attraction, and the old hotel.”

Gabe followed Noah into the sitting room, which was crowded now with Joshua and Abigail’s family—all but the children, who were in the kitchen eating dessert.

“You’re sure about this, David?” Joshua sat in the rocker near the stove, his voice calm and quiet.

“I heard about it on Friday and saw it for myself yesterday when I was in town picking up a few things at the grocer.”

“Saw what?” Noah asked. “Tell it again, now that we’re all here.”

“A poster about the size of a calendar.” David stretched his hands out the width of a wall calendar. “And twice as long. It showed the old hotel on front with Drake’s name over the top. In big letters it said Renovation Project, and it gave the time for the information meeting that was to be held by the Cashton board of trustees.”

“And the village president will be there?” Miriam worried the strings of her prayer
kapp.

“Goodland?
Ya
. Sure, she will. All of them will. Next Wednesday at six p.m.”

“In three days?” Noah’s voice was a low growl.

“No. Most business in town grinds to a halt the week between Christmas and New Year’s Day, especially municipal business. It’s the next Wednesday—in ten days.” David added as an afterthought, “I guess they don’t expect that any of us will show up.”

“Why would we?” Ida piped up. She was married to Noah, and with seven children to look after she was a bit more stern than her husband was, but not unpleasant. “When was the last time we involved ourselves in
Englisch
politics?”

“We haven’t, and I don’t know why we would start now.” This from Simon.

Gabe caught Miriam watching Simon and his girl, Emma–watching them almost with a longing look in her eyes.

He missed something Joshua had said. “—the poster?”

“I stopped and read it word for word. It had Amish Abbey spread across it plain as day. You’d think a formally educated man like Drake would know that we don’t have abbeys. I wonder if he even knows what an abbey is.”

“I don’t imagine such things matter much to him. The point is, it sounds slick and looks good when you put the A’s together on a poster.” Joshua caught a grandchild who came running into the room and launched himself into his lap.

“What concerns me is that he specifically mentioned the school and the students.” Miriam glanced around at each of her family members, her gaze finally landing on Gabe. “It’s as if he wants to put us on display. That can’t be a
gut
thing.”

Gabe squirmed uncomfortably, wanting to ease her worries but not knowing how. It wasn’t his place to jump in the middle of this situation. He was new here. Best to sit back and let the others handle things.

“It’s not our way to interfere in their matters, though.” Noah ran his fingers through his beard. “Why would we make an exception this time?”

“Since I moved here, so many years ago with your
mamm
, we’ve been able to remain apart,” Joshua said. “Wisconsin isn’t like other areas—Pennsylvania or Indiana.”

All eyes turned to Gabe and then back to Joshua. “Here there are fewer of us and we’re more spread out. It hasn’t been hard to remain apart, to not attract attention. And this is the way of doing things you all are accustomed to—what you all have known because you were raised here.”

“I took a trip to Pennsylvania a few years ago.” David rubbed at the upholstery on the arm of the couch. “Remember,
dat
? To go back and settle things to do with your
onkel
.”

“
Ya
. I remember.”

“It was different there. I could hardly believe the Amish there were really… Amish.”

“I didn’t raise you to judge, son.”

“And I’m not judging. I’m only saying I wouldn’t want to see our area go that way. Our district is more liberal than yours—it’s true. Our cottage industries operate more directly with the
Englischers
. We have the Glick’s woodworking shop, Barbara Hershberger’s rug shop, and the cabins that Troyer runs down near the creek.”

“All on the west side,” Noah muttered.

“
Ya
. I’ll admit it’s different on the west side of Pebble Creek, even though it’s only a few miles away.” David’s smile tugged at his beard. “We even have indoor bathrooms and such.”

There was murmuring and a bit of teasing about David being too good to use an outhouse. Gabe noticed he took the ribbing well. When the joking had died down, David’s older brother picked up the discussion in a more serious tone.

“Those changes were decided by your church leadership.” Noah turned a chair around and straddled it.

“Exactly. Those are changes made within our community, not imposed from without. I agree with Miriam. I worry that what Drake has in mind will affect the children, and that I’m against.”

“It would be
gut
if we had someone’s perspective who has been through something similar—an Amish perspective.” Joshua began to rock in the chair as his grandson yawned and curled up in his lap.

“Gabe, you’re from Indiana.” Miriam’s words were soft, but they carried across the room with the weight of his entire buggy. “Did your community deal with anything of this sort there?”

He thought of denying it. He thought of changing the subject or pretending it was time for him and Grace to leave, but he didn’t. He knew if he was going to be a part of this community, if he was going to fully commit to it, then he needed to help the families gathered in this room in any way he could. And that included sharing with them all that he knew.

Chapter 33

W
hen Miriam thought about it later, she remembered that the night of the school play, Gabe had had a rather strong reaction to the initial news about Drake. At the time she’d been too caught up in all that was happening to pay much attention to that, but watching him now, watching him speak to her family, things began to make sense.