Miriam and the Stranger (28 page)

“Has someone called the fire department?” Miriam asked. Of course they had, but what else was there to say?

“I’m sure William ran down to the phone shack,” Aunt Fannie answered. “Not that it will do much good. The whole barn is gone, but at least the horses are out to pasture this time of the year. Oh, Miriam, what have we done to provoke the Lord’s wrath?”

“You haven’t done anything,” Miriam said at once. “These things happen.”

But deep down guilt filled her heart. If anyone was at fault, it was her. Had her unconfessed sin with Tyler brought the judgment of God upon her innocent relatives? But surely a stolen kiss in a moment of weakness didn’t deserve this. Miriam pulled her silent aunt close to whisper, “You should get dressed. There will be plenty of people here soon. And there’s nothing we can do outside.”

Aunt Fannie shook her head and moved toward the front door.
“Come. We will stand with William if nothing else. The people will understand.”

Miriam followed her aunt outside. The faint form of her uncle came down the lane from Highway 48 with slow steps. Uncle William shielded his face with his hands and stayed on the far side near the wire fence. Aunt Fannie met him near the house. With a loud cry she wrapped her arms around him. The quilt slipped to the ground and Aunt Fannie’s nightgown fluttered in the light breeze. Her long waist-length hair was colored with strange light from the flames that leaped into the sky.

“It’ll be okay,” Miriam heard Uncle William say. He bent sideways and picked the quilt up to place it back over his
frau
’s shoulders. The two stood together, their faces turned toward the burning building.

Miriam gave a silent cry of her own and dashed back to the front porch. She couldn’t stand her aunt and uncle’s pain, and they needed this moment alone to grieve. Maybe she could comfort Jonathon if he awakened, but she hoped he wouldn’t. This was a horror a young child should be spared. She wanted comforting arms around her own shoulders right now. She wanted to bury her head in a man’s chest and weep, but there was no one. Aloneness crept over her. Then a dizzying awareness struck her. It was Tyler she wanted beside her right now. Mose seemed like the fire itself—fierce, intense, and destructive. But that was the kind of sinful thinking that perhaps caused God to send this tragedy on them.
Yah
, it had to be. What was her future to be with a man like Mose? Yet she knew she could never choose Tyler’s wildness, his mystery, his handsome face over all that was decent, upright, and just among her people. She couldn’t jump the fence into the
Englisha
world.

“Nay, I cannot,” Miriam silently screamed toward the heavens.

The crackle of the flames answered her, as if to mock the will
of her heart to overcome. How could this weakness be in her? She had kissed Tyler. There was no sense in denying the truth. And worse, she had enjoyed the moment. Only the intensity of her own emotions had brought a shock of reality, and she had come to her senses with an explosion of anger. But Tyler saw through all that. She was sure he did. Why else would he have dared show up and finagle a trip to the youth gathering in his car? Her anger when Tyler picked her up had served only to raise Aunt Fannie’s eyebrows. Thankfully her aunt had written off the indiscretion to her tiredness as she had stomped out of the house right in front of them all.

Little good that had done. On the way home Tyler had stopped his car short of her uncle and aunt’s driveway, and they had kissed again. Tyler had been the one who stopped their kiss and had started the car to drive on again. And now the world was on fire. She was too weary to wonder anymore. She wanted only to sleep and sleep until somehow this all went away. How could it be that she, Miriam Yoder,
baptized
Miriam Yoder, faithful-to-a-fault Miriam Yoder, was in love with an
Englisha
man, and she could do nothing about it? No wonder Uncle William’s barn was in flames. She was somehow to blame for this. The tears trickled down Miriam’s cheeks as she gazed into the fiery light.

The wail of sirens and bright lights in the distance interrupted Miriam’s thoughts. She wiped her eyes and glanced into the house. Jonathon would awaken now, if he hadn’t already. With all the noise there was no way to hide this tragedy from his eyes. Perhaps it was better if Jonathon got to see his
daett
’s barn burn rather than rise from bed in the morning to see only black, ugly ashes on the ground.

Miriam slipped into the house and pushed open Jonathon’s bedroom door to approach his bed.

“Jonathon,” she called, gently shaking him. “Wake up.”

He groaned and opened his eyes, but alarm soon filled them.

She should have thought of a less dramatic way of waking him, but it was too late now. “You need to come with me,” she ordered.

The wail of sirens was louder now, and Jonathon ran to his bedroom window to look outside. Miriam followed to drape her arms over his thin, bare shoulders.

“It’s a fire,” he said. “The barn.”

“
Yah
, come.”

“Is it the middle of the night?” Jonathon asked, looking up at her.

“
Yah
, but you must come.”

“Why is the barn burning?” Jonathon asked as he returned to his bedside to pull on his small pants.

Miriam helped him with his shirt but didn’t answer. Words seemed too heavy to utter right now, and what was the answer?

“Why?” Jonathon insisted. “Why would the barn burn?”

“Just come.” Miriam took his hand. “I wish you didn’t have to see this, but perhaps it is for the best.”

He asked no more questions but followed Miriam. In the living room, Jonathon went to stare out of the window with wide eyes. After a moment, Miriam took him by the hand to lead him outside. Aunt Fannie noticed them and came at a fast run. She scooped up Jonathon with both hands, and sat with him on the porch step. With slow strokes she ran her hand through his hair and whispered murmuring sounds. Aunt Fannie needed her own comfort, Miriam decided, so she sat on the other side of the pair and draped her arm around Aunt Fannie’s shoulders.

“Oh, dear Lord,” Aunt Fannie prayed out loud, “have mercy upon us. Forgive us our sins. Remember not our trespasses that we have done…”

Miriam covered her face with her free hand and tried to join
in her aunt’s prayer, but the words froze on her lips. Hot waves from the fire blew their way, and Jonathon snuggled deeper into his
mamm
’s arms. None of them moved as the firemen set up their trucks and the first blast of water lifted skyward.

It was all too little, too late, Miriam told herself. The firemen seemed to know this and concentrated their efforts on the side toward the house. The greenhouse roof received a share of the attention. The men sprayed a sheet of water on the wall and roof facing the barn. The metal steamed in the fire’s light and added to the surreal feeling that hung over the place.

Aunt Fannie had ceased her prayer, her gaze fixed on the activities around them. Miriam saw numerous headlights appear on the highway, and then slow down as people parked along the road. Aunt Fannie still had the quilt wrapped over her shoulders with Jonathon under it now. Tyler should be here, Miriam told herself. It was a horrible thing to think, but she couldn’t help herself.

“We should fix something to eat,” Aunt Fannie muttered as she rose to her feet. “And we should both get dressed properly. Jonathon, don’t get off the porch,” Aunt Fannie ordered before she turned to go.

Miriam followed her aunt inside.

“We’ll fix something after we’ve changed.” Aunt Fannie motioned toward the bedroom. “I’ll be right back.”

Miriam took a kerosene lamp and hurried upstairs. When she had changed, Miriam returned to the kitchen. By the feeble light of the lamp, she searched the cupboard and placed what she found on the table. There were several pies, a plate of brownies, and cookies—that should be enough.

“We should make coffee,” Aunt Fannie said as she reappeared fully dressed. “There are a lot of firemen out there. They should have something.”

“I can make both pots in here,” Miriam offered, running the logistics through her mind. “We can serve off the front porch unless you want to bring up the small table from the basement.”

“The front porch is fine.” Aunt Fannie seemed distracted and returned to the living room window for a moment.

“Just go back outside,” Miriam told her aunt when she returned. “Take what you can carry, and I’ll bring the rest.”

Aunt Fannie gave Miriam a quick hug and exclaimed, “What would I do without you tonight? William’s heart will be broken to pieces. We have no extra money laid up to rebuild that I know of, and how can people give again when…” Aunt Fannie didn’t finish her sentence. “Sorry, Miriam. I shouldn’t have such a breakdown. I know that somehow the Lord will provide.”

Miriam wanted to say something, but the words wouldn’t come. Her guilt was like a cold stone that froze her emotions. Aunt Fannie picked up what she could carry and left. Miriam waited until the water was boiling and then strained the coffee. She left more water to heat while she took the first two pots outside. A few firemen had already gathered near the porch steps and took the cups of coffee eagerly from her hands as she poured them.

“Thank you,” the first one told her.

Another also thanked her and then said something to the other fireman that caused Miriam’s heart to jump.

“I wonder if they’re getting this kind of service at the other fire?”

“That’s an Amish homestead too, isn’t it?” the second fireman replied.

“Yep, that’s what I heard.”

“Isn’t that strange? Two Amish barn fires the same night.”

“Arson, I would say, but the big boys will have to confirm that.”

Miriam clutched Aunt Fannie’s arm. “What is it they’re saying?” Miriam whispered.

Aunt Fannie turned her face, and Miriam saw her aunt’s tear-streaked cheeks. “
Yah
, William told me,” her aunt choked. “It’s Deacon Phillips’s barn. The Lord must have stirred His wrath greatly toward us as a community.”

A sob escaped Miriam’s lips, and the cup of coffee she was holding crashed to the concrete porch floor. Tyler was staying with Deacon Phillips. And here was where she lived. Two fires.
Yah
, this was surely the Lord’s judgment. Like with Elijah of old, the fire had fallen from heaven.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

T
he middle of the following week Miriam pulled the buggy into the Bylers’ lane, and Star lifted his head to whinny as they approached the remnants of the burned-out barn.

“Take it easy,” Miriam called calmly to him. “It’s okay.”

Crews of local Amish men had gathered last Saturday to help with the cleanup, but the police had stretched crime-scene tape between the trees encircling the ashes. No one had been allowed in or out. Police cars had been parked in the Bylers’ driveway until late Saturday night. Only after Uncle William had begged them to leave until Monday morning had they left so that the family could spend Sunday in peace. The officer in charge hadn’t appeared happy about the decision.

“We have our duty to perform, Mr. Byler. Surely you understand that,” the officer had snapped. “And our job is to protect all our citizens—including you Amish.”

“The Lord gives us protection,” Uncle William had said. “We will trust Him.”

“Doesn’t look like you made out too well here,” the officer said, waving his arm toward the burned building.

Uncle William hung his head. “We believe we should submit to the Lord’s will, whatever it is.”

The officer had grunted but said no more. Great shame had fallen over the community with the intrusion of the police. Deacon Phillips had fared no better when clear signs of arson were found behind his barn. Someone had set both fires on purpose.

Tyler hadn’t shown his face on Sunday at the service or the hymn singing. Miriam’s heart ached. What was the cause of this tragedy? Were Tyler and she to blame? WasTyler asking the same questions as she was? But how could he? Tyler wasn’t from the community and never would be. Her heart was the one that had clearly betrayed her. And to make matters worse, she learned on Monday morning from one of the schoolchildren that Tyler had moved out of Deacon Phillips’s basement the day after the fires. Had Tyler left for his own reasons after he had taken such liberties with her, or had Deacon Phillips asked Tyler to leave and kept the matter a secret from everyone for a few days? Either option sent stabs of pain through her.