Miriam's Heart (10 page)

“Don’t be so quick to judge yourself, Anna, or to say that you aren’t smart. That’s not true.”

Anna sighed. “Which of us sat through third grade classes for two years, and which twin skipped the fifth grade?” Tears welled in her dark brown eyes. “It doesn’t matter that I’m not a person for books. I bake the best apple donuts in the county, don’t I?”

“In the country. No one in Ohio or Pennsylvania can touch you.”

Her sister’s eyes lit up with a smile. “Don’t say such things. Would you have me guilty of
hochmut?”

Miriam chuckled and they started to walk again. “A little of my own
hochmut
wouldn’t hurt you. I have more than enough to share.”

Anna’s expression grew serious. “I do worry about my pride in my cooking. The Bible tells us that it is a bad thing.”

“But honesty is right and good. And didn’t Jesus tell us that we must love ourselves? You’re a treasure. We all know it and you should, too.”

“If only some young man would see it.”

“Someone will,” Miriam promised, grabbing her hand and squeezing it.

“That’s what Mam says, but…” She sighed.

“No buts, twin. Who knows what could happen? You may marry before me. I think I like
rumspringa.
I may decide to stay single for years.”

“Not too many, I hope. Your children will be as dear to my heart as the ones I will never mother. Unless some widower with eleven children takes pity on me.” Anna giggled. “Not that I would mind stepchildren, but I look at Johanna’s baby and I long for one of my own.”

“All in His time.” The beep of a horn behind her caught Miriam’s attention and she turned and looked over her shoulder. John had just pulled into the yard beside the foundation of the new house. Behind his truck was a trailer piled high with a bathtub, sink and toilet. “Look!” Miriam pointed, turning back toward the new house. “John did come. What’s all that stuff?”

“I don’t know,” Anna said. “But I’d guess it’s a bathroom for Ruth and Eli. Let’s go back and see.”

“Charley won’t like it,” Miriam said. “Didn’t he tell us to stay away from the work site?”

“Ya,”
Anna agreed. “But you had no intention of doing so, did you?” Miriam laughed.
“Ne.”

“Nor me,” Anna said, giggling. “Anybody who’s been anywhere near Irwin when he’s cleaning the pigpen would have heard those bad words already.”

They strolled back across the field toward John’s truck. He saw them coming and waved. Miriam stopped a few yards away, folded her arms over her chest and motioned to the trailer with her chin. “What’s all that?”

John beamed. “For the house. One of Uncle Albert’s clients is remodeling his house. They were going to throw everything in the dump. It’s hardly been used at all. The tub and sink were from a guest bathroom. I hope they won’t mind blue. For free?”

“Surely they should pay something,” Miriam said. “They couldn’t mean to give them away.”

John shook his head. “Mr. O’Malley said Eli would be doing him a big favor if he took them off his hands. He’d have to pay to dispose of them and you pay by weight.” The other men had stopped work and were walking toward the trailer. “Eli!” John called. “Take a look at this and see what you think.”

Anna glanced at Miriam. “A whole bathroom! Lucky for Ruth and Eli.”

“Ya,”
Miriam agreed.

“These friends of John’s are good people to share what they didn’t need and John was good to think of it.” Anna grimaced. “But what will Aunt Martha say if Ruth gets a
blue
toilet?”

Miriam laughed, putting her arm around her sister’s waist. “The Lord
does
provide. And who are we to show
hochmut
and be too proud to use an Englishman’s john?”

C
harley knew he was in trouble when he saw John pull a tool belt from the bed of his pickup. He’d expected that John would bring a new hammer with the price tag still on it and little else. Instead, the wide leather belt that the Mennonite strapped around his waist was obviously well-used and of professional quality. Either John had borrowed an experienced carpenter’s tools, or he had more experience than hammering just a few nails.

The day just seemed to get worse from there.

It wasn’t long before John proved his worth in the construction, and Charley felt himself hard put to keep up with him. John not only knew the trade, but he was a hard worker who didn’t mind taking orders from their gang boss. Charley’s only saving grace was that while John might have been even more skilled with a hammer, Charley was definitely stronger, and was called upon several times when there was a heavy job to be done. Charley was ashamed that he’d misjudged the vet so quickly when he obviously hadn’t known anything about him.

Charley didn’t usually draw conclusions about people without careful consideration, but he felt a natural competition with John from the first day they’d met, when Miriam had been all smiles introducing them. The thing was, he genuinely liked John. It was just that he felt threatened by John’s obvious interest in Miriam.

An hour after John arrived, his uncle Albert and three other Mennonite boys showed up, ready to pitch in. “Sorry to come late,” Albert said after he’d introduced his team. “I had an emergency at the office this morning.”

“Glad to have you,” Eli said. “The more hands, the quicker the work goes.” Eli glanced at John. “He’s no stranger to hard work.”

Albert smiled and nodded. “He put himself through college working construction.” Albert walked to the rear of his truck and fired up a gas-powered generator. In the bed of the truck were several different kinds of electric saws that could be run off the generator. “I thought we could set up a saw table.”

“Sounds good to me,” Eli shouted, above the roar of the motor. “Power saws will make the construction go even faster.”

“Let’s get this section up!” Samuel gave the signal, and the six men on his team, including John, began the strenuous task of raising the west wall of the house.

Charley threw his weight into the frame. The six of them lifted the heavy wooden structure into place, and Samuel and Eli began to attach braces. Charley pulled a handful of nails out of the bag on his belt and began hammering them in, securing the bottom wall plate to the floor joist. Beside him, John was doing the same thing. John’s hammer struck with a steady rhythm and Charley quickened his pace to keep up.

Beside the house, Albert Hartman switched on a circular saw he’d plugged into his generator. Other men, Amish and Mennonite, carried lengths of marked lumber to be cut to size. From the other sides of the house, Charley could hear framing going up. Nearly thirty men had gathered to help with the house-raising, while another ten, under Johanna’s husband’s supervision, were working on Eli’s new barn.

The more experienced men were detailed to the house site, while the boys and less-skilled carpenters built the stable and assembled a windmill. The barn had to be solid and waterproof, but the county inspector wouldn’t be nearly as particular about that structure as he would the house. Neither would be wired for electricity; that went without saying.

By the time the dinner bell rang for the midday meal, Charley’s shirt and hair were damp with sweat. His arms ached and his fingers had cramped from driving nails steadily for hours. John seemed equally ready for a break, but Charley watched to see that they laid down their hammers at the same time.

Unhooking their tool belts, they left them lying on the house’s plywood subfloor and walked across the field toward Hannah’s house and the waiting food. Neither Charley nor John spoke directly to each other, although there was plenty of easy talk and joking as the group of men prepared to fill their empty bellies and quench their thirsts.

When they reached the farmyard, men ahead of them had already lined up by the pitcher pump to wash their hands and faces. Charley motioned to John. “Over here,” he said, leading the way to another faucet at the base of the Yoder’s windmill. One of the girls had left a cake of soap and fresh towels.

John pulled off his ball cap, bent and stuck his head under the running water. His brown hair was cut short and he didn’t seem to mind when his blue T-shirt took a fair share of wetting. Charley handed him a towel, and then began washing up.

Miriam came up behind them. “Food’s on,” she said. “Take a seat wherever you like at the tables.”

Charley ran a hand through his wet hair, slicking it back off his face before putting his straw hat back on. Just looking at Miriam made his heart feel too big for his chest. He knew that a man wasn’t supposed to dwell on outer appearances, that what was inside a person mattered more. But Miriam was so beautiful, like a butterfly in her lavender dress and starched white
kapp.

He wanted to pull her into his arms and inhale the clean, sweet scent that was hers alone, but he knew better. If he tried to take advantage of their friendship, who could guess what she’d do? She’d certainly be angry. She’d push him away, maybe even shove him backward into the mud puddle and make a fool of him in front of John.

Charley knew he had no right to claim Miriam as his own; she’d given him no indication that she felt the same way about him. But every drop of blood in his body told him that this was the only woman for him. He might find someone else, marry her, make a family and live a Plain life, but he’d never feel the joy that burst inside him like Fourth of July firecrackers every time Miriam smiled at him.

He’d heard that she’d gone off with John in his truck without a chaperone. Everyone in the neighborhood had heard. Word was that Reuben had gone to the house to scold Hannah for letting Miriam run around with a Mennonite boy, but no more had come of it.

Most likely, Hannah had told her brother-in-law to mind his own business. Hannah was no shrinking violet. She’d always stood up for her girls with all the pluck of a banty hen with a flock of chicks.

Miriam was like her mother Hannah in a lot of ways. She was strong. She’d make a good wife and a good mother. If he couldn’t have her—if he lost her to John—he’d have to seriously consider leaving Kent County. He’d never be happy here, seeing her with another man, knowing they could never be together.

“Thanks for coming,” Miriam was saying to John. “And tell your uncle and the others from your church how much we appreciate it.”

John grinned.

Girls would think the Mennonite was decent-looking, Charley supposed. Not too old to marry for the first time, maybe twenty-nine or thirty. John’s features were even and pleasant. He had good white teeth and eyes that met yours straight on when he spoke.

Charley didn’t doubt that most girls would think John was a lot more handsome than he himself was. Charley didn’t waste much time looking in a mirror, except to shave and he didn’t grow a lot of beard to begin with. But he wasn’t pie-faced or cross-eyed, at least, and he had a chin, not like his friend Menno whose jaw kind of melted into his neck.

Charley’s eyes were a clear blue and his sandy hair was thick and a little unruly. He might not be as tall as John, but he had strong shoulders and good arms. He doubted that John could lift a three-month-old calf over his head without breathing hard…or guide a horse-drawn plow from sunup to sundown.

No, he was no Eli, who had a face that could sell toothpaste. He was just ordinary Charley. But his love for Miriam Yoder wasn’t ordinary and he meant to marry her before the church and cherish her all the days of his life. He’d not give her up without a fight and he’d be boiled for an egg if he’d let a Mennonite in a blue truck come between them.

All Charley had to do was convince
Miriam
that he was the man for her…

Somehow, Charley and John ended up sitting at the table, side by side. They had a place halfway down, right in their age group, between the young men, old enough to do a full day’s work, and the married men. The older fellows, the preachers, Bishop Atlee, the deacons and John’s uncle Albert were at a second table under the shade trees. The younger table was definitely the livelier of the two, with lots of laughter and joking. Charley always enjoyed this kind of fellowship with the men in his community, both married and unmarried. Days like this had a way of building bonds that would last a lifetime.

“More tea?”

Charley turned to see Miriam standing beside him, a brimming pitcher of iced tea in her hands.
“Dangi,”
he said. He offered his empty glass and Miriam filled it to overflowing. When a little spilled over, he set it down and licked his fingers.

“John? Would you like some?”

Charley was surprised when John said that he did. He’d hardly sipped his tea, and he hadn’t eaten more than a little girl. He wondered if maybe Amish food didn’t suit John. There was plenty to be had: every kind of meat, from baked ham to fried chicken, fried rabbit, hamburgers, hot dogs, turkey legs and platters of cold cuts.

Bowls of macaroni salad, potato salad, three bean salad, Dutch slaw and cabbage-filled peppers were crowded beside tureens of hash browns and potato dumplings. Platters of deviled eggs, cheese, bread, celery and fried eggplant were surrounded by pickles, chowchow and vegetables of all kinds. There’d be more desserts than a sensible man could eat, but Charley didn’t want to ruin his appetite until he’d finished the main courses. With all the work to be done this afternoon, he needed to keep up his strength.

“I can’t believe how fast the house is going together,” John said to Miriam.

“That’s the idea. It’s why so many people come together to help,” she answered.

Charley didn’t like the tone of her voice: soft, flirtatious. He could just see her out of the corner of his eye. Thinking fast, he drank his tea in three long gulps and held up his glass. “Miriam. I’d appreciate—”

“Maybe I should bring you a pitcher of your own,” she teased, but she came back around him, away from John, and refilled the glass.

But John was sneaky. He tipped over his glass as pretty as could be, spilling tea on the tablecloth and on himself and Charley. “Oops. Miriam. I think I need a refill, too.”

Charley wiped at his pant leg as the other guys at the table, knowing full well it hadn’t been an accident, began to laugh. “Miriam, you’d better bring a barrel of tea for those two,” Titus called.

“A wagon load,” Menno chimed in.

Charley put his hand on the pitcher to keep her from returning to John. “What would you suggest for sweets?” he asked.

“Her!”

Whoever that wiseacre is will pay,
Charley thought. “Mind your mouth,” he snapped, throwing a warning glance in the direction of the guys seated across the table from him and John. “Miriam? Pie or cake? What looks best?”

“No dessert for you until you finish your dinner,” she said. “John’s plate is clean.” She had an innocent expression on her face, but mischief twinkled in her eyes.

Charley knew that she was on to him when she pried his fingers off the iced tea pitcher.

She made a point of turning her attention to John, “John, would you like me to get you a clean glass?”

“I can get it, if you’ll just show me the way.” He was off the bench before she could answer and the other boys at the table hooted and stamped their feet. Before Charley could come up with anything equally clever to do, Miriam and John walked away, leaving Charley staring at a full glass of iced tea, two chicken legs and a mound of potato salad.

Anna, having witnessed the whole thing from the end of the table, walked over and leaned over Charley’s shoulder. “Would you like to try some apple cider? Might have better luck.”

He looked up to see her smiling at him and wiped at his wet pant leg that was now sticky. “I think I’m already all wet.”

“Not to worry,” she soothed, quietly, her words meant only for him. “Miriam’s coming to the young people’s singing tonight, and it’s Amish only. John won’t be invited. You’ll have her all to yourself.”

He nodded and reached for the piece of chicken on his plate. Maybe Miriam would let him drive her home from the gathering. When he got her alone, he could ask if he could court her. Now that he’d spoken with Hannah, he was free to do so. He doubted John had gotten
that
far, otherwise he’d have surely heard. Things might be dark, but he hadn’t lost yet. He still had a chance to win her heart, and the singing would be the perfect place to begin.

“I think you spilled the tea on purpose,” Miriam said, when she handed John a new glass. “That wasn’t very kind.”

“No,” he agreed. “It wasn’t, was it?” He grinned. “I don’t think Charley likes me very much.”

“That’s not it.” She hesitated, trying to figure out how to explain her situation with Charley to John. Then she just came out with it. “Charley wants to court me. He hasn’t asked me yet, but only because he hasn’t been able to catch me alone. He already spoke to Mam.”

John’s gaze grew serious. “What are you going to say?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. That’s the problem.” She pressed her lips together.

He nodded. “It’s a big decision. You should keep in mind that you have, you know, other options.”

She looked up at him. “Do I?”

“Miriam!” Ruth called from across the yard. “We need more tea at the bishop’s table.”

“Guess I’m keeping you from your work. I’ll get their table.”

John picked up a second pitcher and she was filled with a pleasant surprise. Dat had been a great man, but never, in her life, had she seen him tend to such a menial task. “That’s women’s work.”

“With Gramps and Uncle Albert, I’m the serving boy. I’m good at this. Watch me.” John winked at her and strode toward the seniors’ table. Some of the older men rolled their eyes, but either John didn’t notice, or didn’t care. He started refilling glasses and taking orders like he’d been doing it all his life.