Miriam's Heart (16 page)

Miriam picked up one of the pony’s hooves, and then another. She ran her hands over the pinto’s legs and felt the belly. Through it all, the animal stood patiently. Even the little mare’s long coat was a disgrace. Tufts of hair were coming out and there was a bare spot on one hip. As Miriam inspected the raw skin closely, she saw telltale evidence of lice. She shuddered with distaste and quickly snatched her hand away.

Angry thoughts of what she would like to do to anyone who left a pony in this condition filled her, and when she turned to look at her mother, she could hardly speak. “Mam?”

Hannah nodded.

“You say your sister will let us have the pony for nothing?” Miriam turned to Tony. “Could we take her tonight?”

“Tonight?” The Englishman’s eyes widened in surprise. “Sure, you can have her tonight, but we don’t have a horse trailer.”

She felt for the red cell phone in her pocket. “Lucky for us, we have a friend who does have a trailer.”

“Ya,”
Charley agreed. “A friend of the family who happens to be a vet. So the pony will get good care.”

“And a good home,” Miriam said. “It’s obvious that she needs it.” She glanced at Charley. “Thank you,” she murmured. “You’re the best friend of all.”

As September slipped into October and the trees turned from green to red and gold, Miriam’s days and nights were filled to overflowing. With Molly and the new pony to care for, crops to get in and the usual farm chores, she was too exhausted to worry too much about her future or the possibility that she could still be banned for her
loose behavior.
Instead of worrying, she tried to take each day as it came, accepting God’s simple pleasures around the farm.

The pony, named
Taffy
by Susanna, was already looking much better. Charley’s brother Roland, a skilled farrier, had trimmed her hooves. John had given her a thorough medical examination and prescribed vitamins, a special horse feed, lots of grooming and medication for her infestation with lice. Because of Taffy’s sweet disposition, Miriam guessed that the pony had suffered from the owner’s ignorance and lack of care, rather than abuse. In any case, the entire family seemed delighted with her. Once Taffy regained her health, Miriam was certain that the little mare would make a dependable driving pony.

With Hannah’s approval, Miriam continued seeing both John and Charley over the next three weeks. Always properly chaperoned, she walked to church with Charley, fished in his father’s pond, went to husking bees and picked grapes and apples with him. Some evenings, Charley came by the Yoder farm and they played catch with a softball in the yard or a quiet game of cards with the family.

Dates with John were more exciting: the spaghetti supper at his uncle’s church, lunch at a Mexican restaurant, a trip to the library, an afternoon movie at the mall and routine visits to care for ill or injured animals. Miriam took care never to do anything that her mother would consider inappropriate or that might bring censure from the church elders. If Miriam wasn’t accompanied by one of her sisters, she took Irwin along.

On a Saturday in mid-October, Miriam and John were picking pumpkins at Samuel’s farm when the two finally found a few minutes alone. Irwin had been helping, but he and Samuel’s twins had gone off to join a softball game at the field beside the school. Technically, she and John were unchaperoned, but they were in a field in plain view for anyone who drove by to see, and therefore couldn’t be accused of sneaking behind anyone’s back to be alone.

Molly, recovered from her hoof infection and now pronounced by John as sound enough for light work, was hitched to the small cart. Eli had suggested that they sell decorated pumpkins for Halloween at his shop. Samuel had a bumper crop this year and was willing to let the Yoder girls have them for fifty cents each. It seemed a good idea that might bring in a little extra cash, so the whole family was helping out. John had come by to visit and was pressed into the pumpkin project. Miriam was in charge of the picking and Ruth, Susanna and Anna would do the painting.

Miriam was barefoot, her hair decently covered by a lavender scarf, as John lifted the pumpkins out of the muddy field and handed them up to her where she stood next to the cart. They already had more than a dozen in the vehicle when Miriam reached to take a particularly fat pumpkin with a long twisted stem. As she grabbed the pumpkin, her hand brushed John’s and she blushed as she felt a jolt of excitement.

The pumpkin slipped out of her fingers, bounced off the low side of the cart and smashed on the ground. John grabbed her by the waist, lifted her into the air and set her down in front of him on the tailgate of the cart. Then, he leaned closer and kissed her.

“John!”

“What?” His eyes were sparkling.

“You…
we
can’t do this.” She pushed at his shoulders, putting a little distance between them.

“Why not?”

“Because…because you cannot be so familiar with me. We’ve talked about this. There can be no kissing.”

“How about if I ask you to marry me?” He gazed into her eyes, a smile on his lips. “
Then
do I have a right to a kiss?”

“M
arry?” Miriam’s eyes widened. “You’re asking me to marry you?”

He laughed. “That was the point of my courting you, right?”

She hadn’t expected this. Not yet. Certainly not today. “And…and you’re asking me now?”

“Why wouldn’t I? You’re special, Miriam. You’re smart and funny and full of life. We’d be happy together—I know it. And…” He looked down at the ground, then up at her again. “And I think it’s time we decided. We’ve seen enough of each other to know if this is what we want. I know it’s what I want. And you’d have so much more freedom as a Mennonite.”

She nodded, suddenly frightened and excited, at the same time. “It’s a big decision,” she heard herself say.

What was wrong with her? This was what she wanted, wasn’t it? John was such a wonderful man, everything any woman would want in a husband: patient, gentle, hardworking. She could love him, if she didn’t already. She could see herself having his children. But…
but what?
she wondered.

“Miriam?” His brow creased. “You’re not saying anything. A man asks you to marry him, you’re supposed to…say something.”

She let her hands fall to her lap. “I care for you so much,” she said, “but the truth is, I don’t know if I could abandon my faith…my family.”

“You wouldn’t be abandoning your family. You said yourself that if you become Mennonite, you’d still be welcome at your mother’s table.”

“But not church.” She felt a sudden tightness in her chest. “If we were Mennonite, our children would not be welcome in the Amish church, either.”

“We can figure it out. I’ll do anything you want. I mean it.” He pulled off his ball cap. “I’ll become Amish, if that’s what you want. How would I look in a straw hat?”

At first, she thought John was being silly, but she realized that beneath the joking, he was serious. “You would do that for me?” she murmured, gazing into his eyes. “You’d give up being a Mennonite? You’d become
Plain,
for me?”

“I would.” He tossed his hat into the wagon. “As long as your bishop would give me some kind of exemption—so that I could continue my veterinary practice. I have to drive to care for my patients and I couldn’t work in the clinic without electricity. But, maybe they could make an exception. I could be Amish at home and Mennonite in the world. I must not be the first man to do that.”

“But your own faith, John, your family? How would they feel if you turned Amish?”

He shrugged, his handsome face growing serious. “What they want doesn’t matter. I only care about us. I think you’d fit in well in the Mennonite life, but I mean it. I’ll do whatever it takes to make you happy.” He captured a loose lock of her hair that had escaped her scarf and wound it around his finger. “So will you marry me, Miriam Yoder? Will you be my wife?” He hesitated. “You’re still not saying anything.”

“I need time, John.” She looked into his handsome, honest face. “I’m sorry, but I can’t tell you this second. Can I have a few days?”

“Take all the time you need.”

“All right,” she promised, getting to her feet in the cart. She was trembling. He’d done it, asked her to marry him. She’d been so sure that if he did, when he did, that she’d say
yes.
He’d even offered to become Amish so she wouldn’t have to leave her family or her church. So why hadn’t the words come out of her mouth? Why hadn’t she told him she would marry him? What was wrong with her? “I’ll give you an answer soon.”

“Tell me that you haven’t made up your mind yet,” he urged. “Tell me I still have a chance.”

“You do,” she said, smiling at him as she tossed his cap back and moved to the front of the cart. She unwound the leathers from the peg where she’d wrapped them and flicked the lines over Molly’s back. “Walk on,” she said.

She looked back, her heart full of love. John was still standing there with his hat in his hands, watching her. Her mouth still tingled from his kiss and her heart was racing. She could still feel the warmth of his touch.

Above, the sky was a brilliant blue, the clouds white drifting puffs of meringue. The air was rich with the scents of ripening pumpkins and fertile soil.
Please, God,
she prayed silently.
Help me to make the right decision. Help me find Your plan for me.

It was Susanna who found Miriam later, sitting on the swing in the front yard, deep in thought. Susanna had smudges of white and green paint on her chin and nose, and a big streak down her skirt. Both chubby hands were covered in the poster paint that she’d used to decorate the pumpkins.

“Miriam!” Her little sister ran toward her,
kapp
strings flying. “Did you see Kitty-Cat? I want to show her my pun-kin.”

Miriam wiped her eyes and smiled at her little sister. She didn’t want Susanna to see that she’d been crying. Susanna’s heart was so big that she could never bear to see anyone unhappy. She possessed a child’s innocence, and a compassion that embraced every living thing. But Miriam couldn’t explain her dilemma to Susanna. How could she expect Susanna to understand what she herself couldn’t?

Miriam didn’t know what to do. Two good men loved her and she couldn’t decide between them. Worse, she’d let both of them kiss her and she’d liked it. What kind of Amish woman was she? Why couldn’t she be as certain of her place in God’s plan as Anna was? Why couldn’t she make up her mind about something that should have been so simple? She didn’t even have to choose between her faith and John’s if she didn’t want to. So, did she love John or did she love Charley?

Susanna came to stand in front of her. “What’s wrong, Miriam?” She touched her cheek. “You sad?”

Miriam sniffed and nodded. She wished she had Charley’s handkerchief. She knew she needed to blow her nose. She was afraid to speak. If she did, she was afraid she’d start crying all over again.

“Why?” A calico cat strolled out from under a lilac bush, elegant tail curved over her sleek back. “Kitty!” Susanna dove for her pet and returned with the purring cat in her arms. “I painted a pun-kin,” she told the animal. “Want to see?”

“I think you painted Susanna,” Miriam said, forcing a smile as she looked at her sister’s paint-smudged face. Love for her little sister enveloped her like a hug. Susanna might be different from most people, but she brought joy to everyone around her.

“You want to see my pun-kin, Miriam?”

Miriam nodded. “In a little bit.”

“You’re sad,” Susanna repeated. “Why are you sad?”

“I have a big decision to make, and it’s hard.”

“Mam says ask God. He knows.”

“I have asked Him, Susanna,” Miriam admitted. “Over and over, but I can’t hear His answer.”

“You have to listen. Mam says, ‘Listen, Susanna. Open your ears.’”

The cat had curled up contentedly in Susanna’s arms. “Do you pray?” Miriam asked.

Her sister nodded.

Miriam stroked the cat’s head, and Kitty purred louder. “Why don’t you go show Kitty the pumpkin you painted?”

Susanna tilted her head and patted Miriam’s shoulder. “God loves you. Don’t be sad.”

Another tear trickled down Miriam’s nose. “But I don’t know what to do. I keep thinking and thinking, and I still don’t know what’s best.”

Susanna’s lips pursed and her brow furrowed in thought. Miriam could almost see the wheels turning, and she waited to see what would come out of Susanna’s mouth.

“I think you should ask Charley.”

“Ask Charley?” Miriam stared at her sister in confusion. She hadn’t told her sister what decision she was trying to make.

“Ask Charley. He’s smart. Not like me. He tells me things all the time when I don’t know the answer.”

It seemed to Miriam as if suddenly the clouds parted and the front lawn was bathed in warm, glowing sunlight.
Ask Charley? Ask Charley! Of course. That was the answer. Ask Charley.
She jumped up, threw her arms around Susanna and hugged her. “Don’t ever think you’re not smart! You are, Susanna. Thank you!”

“What?” Susanna demanded, but Miriam was already running toward the backyard.

Irwin’s blue push-scooter was leaning against the porch. Miriam grabbed it and began to roll it toward the driveway. “Hey!” Irwin called. “Where you going with my scooter?”

“Just borrowing it!” Miriam shouted over her shoulder.

“Miriam!” Anna called from the front porch. “Where are you going?”

Susanna dashed around the house. “Charley’s,” she explained. “Miriam’s going to ask Charley.”

To Miriam’s dismay, Charley wasn’t home. His sister told her that Charley was at Roland’s, laying block for a new chicken house. “Is something wrong?” Mary asked. “Do you need me to hitch up the buggy and drive you over?”

Miriam shook her head. “
Ne.
I’ll be fine.”

She turned and pushed the scooter back down the Bylers’ lane and along the road past the schoolhouse. Cars and trucks whizzed past, and once an Amish horse and wagon rolled by and Lydia Beachy and two of her daughters waved.

“Hey, Miriam,” Lydia called as she bounced a baby on her knee. “Would you like a ride?”

Miriam waved back, but shook her head. She didn’t want to explain to Lydia or her girls why she was chasing Charley around the neighborhood. “I’m good,” she said.

The Beachy buggy clattered past, little Elsie hanging half out the back door. Miriam was about to shout a warning, but then Verna yanked her back in and secured the door.

Miriam kept pushing the scooter and Susanna’s words kept sounding in her head.
“Ask Charley. Charley’s smart.”
Maybe that was the answer. All she knew was that the despair that had smothered her for days had suddenly dissolved. Instead of sadness, she felt hope. One way or another, she had the feeling that everything would be settled once she found Charley. He knew her better than anyone. He’d tell her what to do.

By the time she got to Roland’s lane, Miriam’s leg ached from pushing the scooter, and she was hot and sticky. She stopped at the pitcher pump in the yard and pumped up a cup of cool water and then splashed her face to clean off the road dust. She left the scooter leaning against the pump and walked to the site of the new chicken house behind the barn.

Charley and Roland were both there, and Roland’s two-year-old was with them. Someone had given Jared a big spoon and some plastic cups. The little boy was eagerly digging in a pile of sand, giggling and tossing sand in the air. An older neighbor, Shupp Troyer, was leaning on a stack of concrete blocks and giving advice on how the structure should be built.

“Charley, I need to talk to you,” Miriam said, as soon as she greeted everyone. “Alone.”

Charley exchanged glances with his brother, shrugged and finished tapping in the block he’d been laying. “Best see what she needs,” he said to the two men. “Might be important.”

As Charley walked away from the foundation, little Jared threw up his arms and squealed. “You want to come?” Charley swung the wiggling toddler up onto his shoulders. Jared giggled and grabbed hold of Charley’s ears. “Easy on the ears,” Charley protested. “I’ve only got two.”

“You sure you want that trouble?” Roland called after them.

“
Ya.
He’ll be fine,” Charley assured him.

Charley was good with children. It seemed that they all loved him and he had immense patience with them.
He’ll make a great father,
Miriam thought.

Nervously, she led the way back around the barn, past the calf pen, to a small pond beside a maple tree, with leaves already turning a brilliant red. The banks of the pond were thick with clover and Roland had built a high-backed bench on a small stretch of sand overlooking the water.

Heart in her throat, Miriam took a seat on the bench. Charley wrestled Jared off his shoulders, retrieved his straw hat and Jared’s, and sat the little boy between them.

“What is it?” he asked.

Jared slid down off the bench and began to use his hat as a sand bucket.

“Jared, don’t,” Miriam said.

“
Ne,
let him be,” Charley said. “It will keep him happy.” He pointed to the water. “Stay here,” he warned. “Don’t get near the water or you’ll have to go in the house with your mother.”

Jared nodded and began digging a hole.

Charley looked at Miriam again and waited.

She folded her hands in her lap and stared at them. Her mouth was dry and her chest felt tight. She’d come this far; she couldn’t let her nerve fail her now. “I need you to let me say what I have to say,” she managed. “Don’t say anything. Just hear me out first.”

“All right,” he agreed. The muscles in his face were taut, the expression in his eyes curious, but guarded.

“You know I’ve been thinking about you and John and which one I’m meant to be with. I’ve also been struggling with the decision to join the Amish church.”

Charley nodded. “I do.”

She swallowed. This was so difficult. She had to know the answer to her question, but she didn’t want Charley to give the wrong answer. “I don’t know too much about the Mennonite faith, but what I’ve learned seems good. What I wanted to ask you is if you’ve ever thought about not being baptized in
our
church?”

“Not join the Amish church?” Charley looked startled.

Jared began crawling toward the water, Charley snatched him up and put him back closer to the bench. “I mean it, Jared. Stay here, or back to the house and nap time.”

Jared shook his head. “Na, na, na.”

Miriam tried again. “What I meant was…would you be willing to turn Mennonite to marry me? If I wanted to become Mennonite?”

“You don’t want to be Amish?” His mouth firmed.

She lifted a finger. “Please. Just listen.”

Charley frowned, but he didn’t say anything more.

“If we married and joined the Mennonite church, we could still live in Seven Poplars. You could keep your job, and we could see our families regularly. We could buy a truck and learn to drive it. We could go places. See things.”