Miriam's Heart (6 page)

“All right. It was nice talking to you. Can you call me again tonight?”

“What time?” She lowered her voice.

She could hear Irwin calling to Jeremiah. Irwin always played with the little terrier in the morning before chores. Irwin would throw a stick and Jeremiah would run after it, then Irwin would try to get the dog to bring the stick back. But the ragtag little terrier had ideas of his own and he’d tease Irwin by running circles around him. It was a fun game, but Irwin and the dog could spend a half hour fooling around when there were chores to be done.

“Ten?” John suggested.

Miriam shook her head. “Too late. I share a bedroom with my sister, and I’d have to sneak out. How about nine?”

“Ok, nine it is. Wait, will you be at Spence’s tomorrow?”

“Ya.
At least this week. We have eggs and jams to sell.”

“I’ll see you there, then.”

“I have to go, John. ’Bye.” She hit the Off button.

Now, what to do with the phone? She didn’t want to carry it around all day with her. What if it fell out of her pocket? What if Anna or Ruth noticed the bulge and asked what it was?

She climbed on Susanna’s chair and pushed the red phone back on the top shelf, then slid a book on Pennsylvania Dutch Recipes in front of it. The book was old and tattered and had once been sold to tourists. Mam said the recipes weren’t very good, but Aunt Martha had donated the book, so it had to go in the library.

She got down off the chair and looked at the book. No one had borrowed it since the library opened, and if they did, Susanna would knock the book down with the broom handle Irwin had found for her. No one would ever see the red cell phone and no one would know that she was secretly calling John Hartman.

Miriam crossed her fingers and said a prayer that they wouldn’t.

As she and Anna began setting up their sale table at Spence’s Bazaar the following morning, Miriam glanced around anxiously for John. She’d told him that she’d call last night, but she hadn’t been able to think of an excuse to get away. They’d had a family emergency.

What would she say to him? She couldn’t share family problems with John, but neither did she want him to think that she’d promise to call and just not do it. She wondered if he would act differently if he did show up. Would Anna suspect that something more than their usual friendship was going on? Would she be able to talk to John as easily as they had in the past? Her stomach knotted. She’d not been able to eat this morning. Instead of her normal hearty breakfast, she’d had a slice of toast and a cup of coffee. If this was what romance was, she wasn’t certain that it was as much fun as everyone insinuated.

And, besides worrying about John, she couldn’t get Johanna out of her mind. Johanna and the children had showed up at the back door just as they were finishing supper last night. Johanna’s eyes were red and Miriam suspected that she’d been crying, but her oldest sister would never admit such a thing. Johanna had asked her and the others to watch the children. She said she needed to talk to Mam. Naturally, they all wanted to know what was wrong, but Johanna was the stubborn one. Whatever her problem was, no one would know until she was ready to reveal it.

Mam and Johanna had spent the better part of two hours together in Mam’s bedroom. Miriam had wanted to find some excuse to creep down the hall and listen at the door, but she’d never do such a thing. She had to respect Johanna’s privacy, but it wasn’t easy. She, Ruth and Anna were all worried. Only Susanna was her normal happy self, rocking baby Katie in the big rocker Dat’s father had handcrafted until the baby had drifted off to sleep.

It had been after nine when Mam had asked Miriam to hitch Blackie to the courting buggy and drive Johanna and the baby home. Mam had tucked Jonah into her bed and promised that someone would drop him off in the morning. Miriam had tried to find out what was wrong, but Johanna remained tight-lipped. When they’d gotten down from the carriage at Johanna’s house, everything was dark.

“Pray for our family,” Johanna had said as she’d carried a sleeping Katie up her back steps.

“But, are you all right? Are you sick?” Miriam had called after her in a hushed voice. “Is something—?”

“Just pray for me, sister. God has a plan for us. I know He does.”

Miriam and Anna had discussed Johanna on the buggy ride to Dover this morning, but Anna didn’t seem to know much more than she did. “It’s a problem with Wilmer,” Anna said. “Not sickness, at least not of the body. He’s strong as a plow horse. But I don’t think it is a happy marriage.”

None of them had really liked Wilmer Detweiler when he’d started coming around the house. He had a steady job in construction and he was a faithful member of the church, but he was moody. Miriam, especially, couldn’t see why fun-loving Johanna would be attracted to him. Everyone had thought that Johanna and Charley’s older brother Roland had been courting for two years, but they’d apparently argued and then broken up. As usual, no one had been able to pry anything out of Johanna.

But if Johanna and Wilmer’s marriage was in trouble, that was serious. They had two children together, and among the Plain people, marriage was a sacred bond made before God. The couple became one when they took their vows and there was no breaking that union. Marriage was for life.

“Miriam!”

Two jars of strawberry jam toppled out of the basketful that she was carrying from the back of the buggy to the table. Anna caught them both before they hit the ground.

“Whoa, easy,” Anna said. “Pay attention to what you’re doing, twin. We spent too many hours making that jam to waste it.”

“Ya,”
Miriam agreed. Lucky that Anna, despite her size, was so quick. “I was thinking about Johanna and Wilmer.”

Anna nodded and her cinnamon-brown eyes watered up. “On my knees, last night, I prayed for them.”

Across the drive, Aunt Martha and Dorcas had a display of fall flowers for sale along with the wooden toys Uncle Reuben made in his spare time. There was a Noah’s ark and an array of animals, a simple sailboat with a long string so that a child could sail it and a girl’s market basket with wooden eggs, vegetables and cups and saucers, all painted to look real.

Aunt Martha and Uncle Reuben’s farm wasn’t as productive as many others in the community; they’d always had to struggle, but they worked hard every day. Miriam hoped Uncle Reuben would find customers for his toys. Most English children, it seemed, wanted electronic toys that blinked and squealed and flashed, rather than simple handmade items.

Miriam was putting a quart of grapes on the table when suddenly someone came up behind her and put their hands over her eyes.

“Stop it.” Embarrassed, she pulled at the hands. It was a man, not a woman. “Let me go,” she said. She could imagine everyone staring at her.

“You have to guess first,” Anna said with a giggle from beside her.

“John.”

“Wrong.” Charley took his hands down and stepped back.

Miriam whipped around and looked from him to Anna. She could feel her face growing hot. She wanted to run away and hide.

“Just me,” Charley said with a frown of obvious disappointment. “Just good old Charley.”

Miriam could hear Dorcas laughing behind her. “Charley, I didn’t—”

“If you were looking for John, you didn’t miss by much,” he said. He wasn’t smiling now. Hurt showed in his eyes, and his voice was tight. “Here comes your Mennonite boy now.”

“H
ey, Charley, here comes trouble,” shouted Harvey Borntrager. He and two other Amish boys were leaning against the wall of the poultry shed. Harvey laughed and gestured toward John Hartman, walking toward the Yoder stall carrying a cardboard tray of hot drinks.

Charley pushed his straw hat back on his head with an index finger and glared at Harvey. “That’s enough,” he warned. He’d taken the morning off from working on Eli’s house, hoping to get a chance to talk to Miriam alone, and now, here came John again. It wasn’t fair, but no matter how out-of-sorts he was with Miriam, he wouldn’t stand by and let Harvey and his gang poke fun at him.

“Just looking out for your interest,” Harvey said.

“Mind your own business, or you’ll have me to deal with later,” Charley warned. He glanced back at Miriam. “So, I guess I’m the third wheel here, right?”

Miriam shoved the quart basket of grapes across the table and hurriedly pushed another after it. She turned abruptly to face him. “What are you talking about?”

“Him. People think you like John, maybe more than you should.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Maybe it is and maybe it isn’t.”

“Don’t make a fuss, Charley. Everybody’s looking at us.”

“I guess they are. Maybe with good reason.” He could feel her aunt Martha’s eyes boring into his back. He glanced over his shoulder and Dorcas waved.

“Morning, Charley,” Dorcas called.

“Morning,” he said, before turning back to Miriam. He raised his gaze to meet hers directly. She looked as if she were about to burst into tears. Suddenly, his anger drained away. The thought of making Miriam cry was worse than attempting to explain how confused he felt about her friendship with John. “I guess I’ll see you later.”

She nodded.

He turned, straightened his back and walked directly toward John.

“Morning, Charley.” John grinned and held up the tray. “Coffee? I’ve got extra.”

“Ne.”

He wanted to have it out with John right here, to tell him to stay away from his girl, but it wasn’t the Amish way. The Bible taught that a man should be kind to his neighbors, that he shouldn’t harbor bad thoughts in his heart. That went for everyone, including Mennonites and Englishers. It was probably nothing but jealousy and John hadn’t done anything wrong. He had to keep reminding himself that Miriam was Amish. She’d never look at someone from another faith. Nothing John could do or say could steal her away from the Plain people.

“Got to do something,” Charley muttered as he hurried past John. He couldn’t stand here and watch Miriam laughing and talking with him. He’d find her before she left the auction and they’d have that talk. He’d make her see how he felt.

Charley’s abrupt behavior puzzled John. It was clear that something had upset him. He wondered if he and Miriam had argued. Did the Amish argue? He supposed they must, like anyone else, but he’d never seen anything but gentle speech between them. Oh, men could be rowdy, even tell off-color jokes, but as a rule they seemed to possess an inner calm. He wished he could say that about himself.

“Good morning,” Anna called. “Is that coffee I smell?” She giggled. “I told Miriam you were bringing us hot coffee.”

“Indeed, I am,” John said. “And some raisin buns.”

Anna reached for one. “Sticky buns, yum. My favorite.”

“Coffee, Miriam?” He held up a paper cup. “Milk and one sugar. Is that right?”

“Ya.”
She nodded. Her hand trembled as she took the coffee. “Thank you.”

Anna giggled again. “Thank you, Dr. John. I missed my second cup at breakfast.”

An egg customer approached and John stood aside as Miriam waited on her. “I’d like to buy some of your blueberry jam for Uncle Albert,” he said when the English woman had moved on to look at the next table. “He loves it.”

“We’ve got plenty,” Anna said. “Eight dollars for a pint, five for the half-pint. And we’ve got strawberry, as well. Miriam made the strawberry.”

He smiled at Miriam. “In that case, I’d better have three large jars of each.”

“That’s a lot of jam,” Miriam said, beginning to put jars into a plastic bag. “You don’t need to buy so much.”

“But I do,” he assured her. He wanted to ask her why she hadn’t called him last night, to tell her that he’d waited to hear from her, but he didn’t want to say anything about the cell phone in front of Anna. “We need something to make breakfast edible,” he finished. “Something tasty.”

“Then I’ll put in a jar of honey, no charge,” Miriam said. “Because you’re such a good customer.”

“I’d better get some more jam out of the buggy.” Anna went to the carriage, opened the small door in the back and began to rummage in the cardboard boxes.

“I waited for you to call,” John whispered, when Anna was too far away to hear. “What happened?”

“I can’t talk now.” Miriam glanced across at her aunt Martha’s stand. “I’ll be in trouble.”

“Can you have lunch with me?”

“If Anna comes, too.”

“All right. Meet me inside at one.”

“Not inside,” Miriam said. “Too many people.”

Her cheeks were flushed as pink as her lips, and a few curls had escaped from her
kapp.
John was struck again by just how pretty she was. She didn’t wear a dab of makeup and her simple green dress had a high neck and long sleeves. But he found her fresh and adorable from the toes of her sensible black athletic shoes to the crown of her bonneted head. “Where, then? The picnic tables under the trees?”

“All right,” she agreed. “Now take your jam and go before Aunt Martha comes over and chases you away.”

He chuckled. “She would, too, wouldn’t she?”

“I’m afraid so.”

As John was leaving, an older couple trailed by a little girl stopped to ask Miriam about eggs. The woman was dressed in pink sweats with shiny pink and white sneakers, and the man had a mustache and a big belly that hung over his Bermuda shorts. He was carrying a tiny white poodle with a blue bow and blue toenails. The child, wearing a pink tutu, a rhinestone-studded top that read
Hot Chick
and silver flip-flops, waved a blue, half-eaten lollypop nearly as large as her head.

“Are these eggs organic?” the woman demanded in a loud voice. “I only buy eggs from free-range chickens.” By her accent, Miriam thought she might be from Jersey City or New York.

“I want ice cream,” the child whined. “You said I could have ice cream.” She threw her lollypop into the dirt, kicked it under the table and then began to yank on the woman’s sleeve.

“Stop that, Melody. Be nice.”

The dog snapped at the child.

“Ice cream after lunch,” the man said. “Are…your eggs…white…or brown?”

He had the same accent as the woman, but he spoke in an artificially choppy manner to Miriam, as if he were trying to make himself understood in a foreign country without speaking the language.

“Why is she wearing that funny hat?” the little girl demanded.

“She’s a Quaker,” the woman explained. “They have to dress like that.”

“White or brown?” the man repeated loudly.

Miriam gestured at the open carton of large brown eggs on display and wondered if he was color-blind. She knew that she should answer his question, but she was afraid that if she opened her mouth, she might burst into laughter.

“Ice cream!”

The dog began to yip.

“She’s not a Quaker. She’s Aim-ish,” the man corrected. “Merle said this was an Aim-ish market.”

“Chocolate!”

“You prefer white eggs.” The woman ignored the now-screaming child. “I’m not sure you’d like brown. What do they eat?”

Miriam gritted her teeth. Did the woman want to know what the chickens ate or the eggs ate? She was still thinking about Charley and John and what Aunt Martha would just have to report to Mam, but she couldn’t afford to offend customers, even rude ones who thought she was deaf.

“They only speak Pennsylvania Dutch, Mildred,” the man said. “Don’t you?” He raised his voice and the dog barked louder. “You speak Dutch?”

“Ice cream!” the child demanded and began to kick the woman’s ankle.

“Can I help you?” Anna bustled up to the table wearing her widest smile. “I speak English.”

Gratefully, Miriam let her sister deal with the tourists while she hurried back to the horse and smothered her laughter in Blackie’s neck. Most of the people she dealt with at the sale were pleasant, but some were so ignorant they were just silly.

Sales for the next two hours were good. They sold all the eggs and jam and even took an order for one of Johanna’s custom-made quilts. As it neared one o’clock, Miriam and Anna packed up the few items that hadn’t sold, watered Blackie and strolled over to find an empty picnic table in the shade. As usual, Anna had packed a big lunch. There would be more than enough fried chicken, potato salad, deviled eggs and brownies to share with John.

He was already seated at the weathered table when they arrived. Miriam smiled when she saw that he’d brought sodas and a pizza and spread newspapers out to make a clean place to eat. “We’ve got enough for you to take home for dinner,” she teased. “Then you won’t have to eat Uncle Albert’s cooking tonight.”

“Amen to that,” John said.

Anna laughed. “Maybe you should learn to cook, John.”

“No, I’ll leave that to you girls. It’s all I can do to boil an egg.”

“You don’t boil eggs,” Anna retorted with a twitter. “You just bring them to a simmer, turn them off and put the lid on. You let them cook in hot water, not boil them. Makes green streaks if you boil them.”

Miriam took a seat across the table from John and he passed her a root beer. “How was your morning?” she asked.

He began to tell her about the calf he’d gone to tend as Anna dug in to the pizza. Miriam nibbled on a chicken leg. It was nice here, sitting in the shade, laughing and talking. She felt comfortable with John, as though she belonged here in the outside world. Her family and community might consider him an outsider, but he didn’t seem like that to her. There were other people around them at tables, a few Amish but mostly English. No one seemed to be paying any attention to the three of them, as though it was perfectly normal for friends of different faiths to share lunch and laughter.

Nearby, a truck radio blared country music and John tapped the table in time to the rhythm. Miriam was having a wonderful time, eating pizza and drinking her soda pop, until Charley and two of his buddies walked up.

“Something looks good,” Titus said. “Is that your chicken, Anna?”

Anna looked at Titus, averted her eyes and blushed. “Help yourself,” she offered, waving to the feast spread out on the newspapers. There’s extra paper plates and plastic forks.”

His brother Menno reached for a drumstick and took a seat at the table next to Anna.

“And there’s plenty of pizza,” John offered. “Charley?”

Charley shook his head. “Not hungry.”

“No, sit down and join us,” Miriam said, suddenly uncomfortable. “We’re having lunch.”

Charley hooked a thumb in the waistband of his jeans. “I can see that.”

Miriam’s embarrassment changed to annoyance. Charley was being deliberately difficult. She didn’t want to hurt Charley’s feelings, but he had no right to act this way. He was making a big thing of her friendship with John, almost as if he were jealous and doing it in front of Menno and Titus.

But then she remembered that he’d told her he wanted to talk to her. He’d tried to talk to her after church and again later on Sunday. She couldn’t imagine what he had to tell her, since he’d already shared his news about the new job, but she didn’t want to be unkind. “Charley was hired to work on the new construction at the hospital,” she said.

John smiled. “Glad to hear it.”

“Steady work,” Titus said. “I’ve got a job there, too.”

“You’re both masons, aren’t you?” John asked.

“Ya.”
Titus pushed a forkful of potato salad into his mouth. “Charley’s uncle taught us both the trade. It pays good.”

Anna glanced up at Titus, saw him grinning at her and blushed until her cheeks looked like she’d stained them with beet juice. Miriam knew that her sister liked Titus, but he was a good-looking boy, popular with all the girls. And Charley’s sister, Mary, had said that Titus was walking out with a girl from one of the neighboring Amish churches.

Miriam didn’t know if Menno had a girlfriend, but she doubted that he’d be interested in Anna, either. As much as she loved her twin sister, she was afraid that Anna was too Plain for the boys their age. Most young men, like the English boys, went for cute girls.

John passed a slice of pizza to Titus. Soon everyone was talking and sharing the lunch, all but Charley. He just stood at the end of the table watching Miriam as if he expected her to say something. The trouble was, she didn’t know what she was supposed to say.

“I guess we’d better get home,” Anna said when they’d finished most of the food. “I don’t think we left enough for your family for supper, John.”

“That’s all right. I’ll pick up some sandwiches.”

Charley pushed his hat back. “Are you coming to Ruth and Eli’s house-raising Saturday?”

He glanced at Miriam, then back at Charley. “Am I invited?”

Charley shrugged his broad shoulders. “Anybody’s welcome. At least anybody who knows one end of a hammer from the other. But I guess they don’t teach that in college, do they?”

It was John’s turn to stiffen and flush to the roots of his hair. “Not at vet school, at least,” he answered as he rose to his feet. “But I can probably muddle through. All right if I come, Miriam?”

“We would be pleased to have you,” Anna said quickly.

Miriam scowled at Charley. “We start early. Seven. And don’t bring lunch. We’ll have plenty at noon.”

“Ya.”
Anna glanced up at Titus through her lashes and smiled. “Plenty of food.”

“I have to warn you.” Charley shook his head. “It’s hard work, raising a house. You may get blisters on those soft hands.” Menno chuckled.

“Don’t worry about me, Charley.” John seemed to throw back his narrower shoulders. “I’ll be there on time and I’ll outwork you.”