Miriam's Heart (7 page)

Titus groaned. “These Mennonite boys can be touchy.”

For long seconds the air across the picnic table seemed charged with energy and then Charley grinned. “We’ll see about that, college boy,” he said. “Bring a hammer if you have one.” He walked away. “Come on, fellows. I think the cow auction is starting. We wouldn’t want to miss anything.”

Miriam glared at him. “No, I guess you wouldn’t.”

John watched as the three walked away across the parking lot. “I want to come to the house-raising, Miriam, but I don’t want to make trouble for your family.”

“There won’t be any trouble,” she answered softly. “I don’t know what’s gotten into Charley. He’s not usually like that.”

“He’s jealous of you and Miriam,” Anna told John.

“It was just lunch,” Miriam protested. But she knew that wasn’t quite true. There was more between her and John than friendship, and Charley had seen it.

Later, on the ride home in the buggy, Anna brought up Charley’s rude behavior. “He’s jealous, I tell you,” she said. “And I’d say Charley has good reason.”

“That’s silly,” Miriam argued, fingering the leather reins in her hands.

“What’s silly is my sister has two beaus and I can’t get one. How fair is that, I ask you?”

“Stop it. I don’t have two beaus.”

“You like John.” Anna gazed at her earnestly. “Can you deny it?”

“What if I did?”

“It will cause trouble, twin. Mam’s Amish now, she thinks Amish. She won’t let you run off with a Mennonite. You can count on that. Best you take Charley and be happy with him.”

“But I don’t love Charley,” Miriam said, slapping the lines over Blackie’s back so that the gelding broke into a fast trot and the buggy swayed back and forth. “If you like him so well, you take him.”

“Gladly,” Anna replied sadly. “But we both know that he’d not have me. When I get a husband,
if
I get a husband, he’ll be seventy years old with a beard down to his waist and an Adam’s apple the size of your
kapp.”

Miriam softened and reached out to pat her sister’s hand. “That’s not true, Anna.” She hesitated. “But what’s wrong with John? He’s sweet.”

“Sweet he may be and easy on the eyes, but he’s not Plain. I can’t see you going against the family and the church to marry a Mennonite.” Anna leaned back on the buggy seat, folding her arms over her ample bosom. “You’re playing with fire, if you ask me.”

“Maybe I am,” Miriam conceded. “But I don’t want to settle. I want what Mam and Dat had…what Ruth and Eli have. I want a love that will last forever.”

“And can a Mennonite boy give you that?”

“Not a
Mennonite boy.
John. John Hartman. He’s a good man, Anna.”

“Do you love him?”

“I don’t know.” Miriam pressed her lips tightly together. “I guess I just want a chance to find out.”

A
fter Miriam and Ruth finished milking that evening, Miriam ducked back into the milk house to recover the cell phone. When she turned it on, she saw that it indicated three missed calls—all from John. She didn’t want to try and reach him now because she was expected in the kitchen to help put supper on the table. Neither did she feel at ease leaving the phone here. She knew it wasn’t logical, but all day, she’d kept worrying that Susanna would find some reason to collect a book off the top shelf and somehow discover the phone.

In some ways, Susanna was a child, but in others, she was smart. She’d recognize the cell phone for what it was and take it straight to Mam. In fact, she wouldn’t even wait until Mam got home; she’d probably march it straight to the schoolhouse and tell Mam right in front of all the children, and then everyone in the community would know. Cell phones were not strictly forbidden by the
Ordnung,
because there were no wires or lines connecting the phone to the English world. Some of the men, especially those who had businesses, carried cell phones, but she didn’t know of a single woman in Kent County who had one.

She didn’t need another thing to worry about. All day she’d been going over what had happened at lunchtime with Charley. The look on his face had really upset her. It bothered her that she had obviously hurt his feelings, but what right did Charley have to be jealous of John? Charley wasn’t her boyfriend. Why was he being so difficult? It had been both unlike him and unkind to tease John about his carpentry skills. Yes, John had an education. What was wrong with that? How could he be a veterinarian if he hadn’t gone to school for so long? It was unfair to give John a hard time about choices he’d made in his life, especially when their whole community depended on John and his uncle and grandfather.

Her friendship with John meant a lot. And if it was more than friendship, if it was the beginning of something more, she had the right to pursue it, didn’t she? Mam would be the first one to urge her to follow her heart, wouldn’t she? Hadn’t she given up her own faith to become Amish for Dat? And hadn’t she found peace and love in the Amish community? What if God had the same intentions for Miriam?

She wanted to ask her mother for advice, but Mam already had so much else on her mind with the wedding and Johanna and the troubles with
Grossmama.
And at some point, Miriam felt as if she had to begin making some of her own decisions. If she was old enough to be thinking about becoming a wife, and God willing a mother, wasn’t she old enough to begin making her own decisions?

“Miriam?” Anna called from the back porch.

Miriam glanced back at the top shelf, wondering if she should return the phone to its hiding place, then decided against.

“Miriam! Supper!”

That was Mam. And it didn’t pay to be late to the table; Mam didn’t tolerate tardiness without a good explanation.

Miriam dropped the cell into the deep pocket of her apron, hurried out of the milk house and up to the house.

“What kept you?” Ruth asked when she walked into the kitchen. She was studying her with an expression that said she knew Miriam was up to something.

Miriam put a finger to her lips and silently formed the word,
“Later.”

Ruth scowled, but let it drop.

The household wouldn’t be the same once her big sister moved into her own home with Eli. Even though Ruth would only be across the field, Miriam would miss her terribly. She wondered if she should confide in Ruth about the phone, but thought better of it. Ruth already had too much on her mind, too, with the coming wedding and the house construction. This should be a happy time, not one in which she need worry about Miriam’s silly little problems.

The delicious odor of potato soup filled the big kitchen. After she’d gotten home from school, Mam had fired up her much beloved black and nickel wood-burning cookstove, made the soup using last night’s leftover potatoes and baked a pan of biscuits and three apple pies. Keeping the oven temperature just right on the cookstove was tricky, and Miriam and Ruth much preferred the modern gas range that ran on propane. Fortunately, their kitchen was large enough for both stoves and having two came in handy when there was a lot of baking to do.

Irwin was already at the table, hair slicked straight back and smelling of hair tonic. Miriam noticed that his straw-colored hair needed cutting again. Irwin was still small for his age, but his hair and ears seemed to grow faster than anyone else Miriam knew. She had to admit that, despite his skinny frame, he was a much more attractive boy than he’d been when he’d first come to live in Delaware.

Mam never did things halfway. Strictly speaking, Irwin was a hired hand, but Mam had taken him under her wing and treated him like a son. She’d bought him sturdy work boots, sewn him new shirts and pants and bought him a Delaware-style Amish straw hat. And when she realized how bad his eyesight was, she’d removed money from the crock in the root cellar and taken him to an optometrist. Now, Irwin sported new wire-frame glasses, was doing much better in his schoolwork and didn’t peer down his nose like a weasel at everyone.

Miriam washed her hands, got a pitcher of water and another of milk from the refrigerator and brought them to the table. Eli was there, as usual, seated across from Ruth and staring at her as though she were the prettiest thing he’d ever seen in his life. Susanna took her seat, followed by Mam, Anna and Ruth. Miriam hastily poured drinks for everyone and sat beside Anna. Everyone bowed their heads for silent grace and then they began to eat. Miriam loved Mam’s potato soup. She made it with lots of onions and celery. They’d grown a lot of celery in the garden this year and Mam always found ways to use the extra.

“Silas stopped by the school this afternoon,” Mam said. “His oldest son is coming from Oregon to take over the farm. Silas and Susan plan to move into the
Grossdaadi
house.”

“Eli’s been hired to do some renovations to the place,” Ruth explained. “Silas wants to close in the porch to make a room to fix clocks.”

Anna nodded. “Silas’s son and daughter-in-law have a big family.”

“They do,” Mam agreed. “Four younger ones will be coming to school, and I believe there are four older unmarried boys and a grown daughter.”

“Four?” Susanna giggled as she buttered a biscuit. “That’s good. Maybe one of them will want to marry Anna. Or me!”

“Hush, Susanna.” Anna’s face flushed. “What a thing to say.”

“But you don’t have a boyfriend.” Susanna waved a dripping spoon. “Roofie has Eli. Miriam has Charley, and—”

“Charley is
not
my boyfriend,” Miriam corrected.

Susanna bounced up and down in her chair. “But Anna said so! Anna said he was courting you.” She turned to her sister. “Didn’t you, Anna?”

“Shh, daughter.” Mam passed the honey to Susanna. “Put some of this on your biscuit.”

Susanna’s round face screwed up. “But Anna did say Charley—”

At that instant, Miriam’s pocket began to play a ringtone. Horrified, she snatched the phone out of her apron and fumbled with the buttons in an attempt to shut off the loud country tune. The cell phone slipped through her fingers, hit the floor and slid across the smooth linoleum, coming to rest under the table.

“What was that?” Susanna cried. “Is it a radio?” She peered under the table.

Eli tried to keep a straight face, failed miserably and began to choke into his napkin.

Miriam got down on her hands and knees and scrambled for the phone.

“It is!” Susanna declared, popping her head up over the edge of the table. “It’s a radio!”

Miriam reached for the phone just as Irwin gave it a little kick, sending it spinning away to lodge under Anna’s chair.

“Irwin!” Miriam squealed.

Irwin snickered. “Sorry.” By now, Eli was roaring with laughter and Irwin’s terrier was barking loudly and racing around the table.

Anna scooped up the phone, which had begun another round of music, and tossed it to Miriam who turned it off.

Miriam slowly climbed out from under the table, tucked the offending phone back into her apron pocket and took her seat. Anna clamped her hand over her mouth and made muffled noises of amusement. Ruth’s lips were pressed tightly together, but she was trying so hard not to laugh out loud that tears were rolling down her cheeks. Eli gave up and fled to the porch, still laughing.

Mam, seemingly deaf and oblivious to the chaos in her kitchen, rose from her chair, went to the stove and filled her soup bowl a second time. “Would anyone like more soup?”

Miriam stared at her. It wasn’t possible that Mam hadn’t heard the phone ring. “Mam,” she began softly. “I—”

“Miriam has a radio,” Susanna said. “I want one, too. Can I have a radio, too?” When Susanna said it, it came out more
way-de-o
than
radio,
but everyone understood her perfectly.

“Eli,” Mam called. “Would you like to come in off the porch and have more soup?”

He opened the kitchen door and came back in, still red-faced.

Irwin looked from Miriam to Mam and back to Miriam. “She has something in her pocket,” he said.

Miriam glared at him.

“I would rather you don’t bring your cell phone to family meals,” Mam said, returning to the table with another bowl of the steaming soup. “It’s not fair to interrupt the rest of us.”

Miriam felt as though she was about to burst into tears, and they wouldn’t be tears of laughter. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” She removed the phone from her pocket and held it out to her mother.

“I assume that John lent it to you so that you could…call him if Molly took a turn for the worse.” The expression in Mam’s gaze was loving and admonishing at the same time. She didn’t take the phone. “It may be that there is some problem. Perhaps you should go outside and call him back.”

She nodded, feeling like she did the day she’d pulled all the tail feathers out of Aunt Martha’s peacock. She’d been ten years old then, but she could still remember this same look from her mother. “I didn’t mean for it to disturb supper.”

“I’m sure you didn’t.” Mam glanced around the table. “Who wants apple pie with vanilla ice cream for dessert?”

Miriam carried the cell phone back to the milk house, went inside and closed the door behind her. Her hands were shaking as she punched the button that dialed John.

He answered on the second ring. “Miriam?”

“Ya.
It’s me.”

“I was wondering if you’d found a way to go with me tomorrow to Easton to pick up those supplies for the practice. I don’t want to get you in trouble, but…but I really want you to come.”

“I promised Mam I’d go to Johanna’s tomorrow. To help her with the applesauce. I don’t know how to get out of it.” She wouldn’t tell him about getting caught with the phone, at least not now she wouldn’t. The fault was hers. How could she have been so foolish as to leave it turned on in her pocket? Now everyone in the family had had a laugh at her expense, Susanna would spread the news at church and there would be a price to pay later with Mam.

“I’m not leaving until eleven. I have to make two calls first in the morning. If you change your mind, you can reach me. How’s Molly?”

“There’s still a discharge from the hoof, but I’m cleaning it exactly like you showed me.” Now that they were talking about the mare, Miriam felt more comfortable. She knew that she should hang up and return to the house to clean up the supper dishes, but it was nice sitting here in the semi-darkness chatting with John. She loved hearing the sound of his voice, and when he spoke, she could picture him as he’d been at lunch.

Would it be so terrible if she went with him in the truck tomorrow? She wasn’t a child. She was a woman grown. Surely, she could ride in a friend’s vehicle and have lunch at a restaurant without causing a scandal, couldn’t she?

The following morning, Miriam sat across from Johanna at her kitchen table, explaining last night’s disaster with the cell phone. Her sister had cut a generous slice of Mam’s pie for each of them and had made a pot of herbal tea. Little Jonah was playing on the floor with a wooden top and the baby was asleep upstairs.

“I tell you, Mam didn’t blink an eye,” Miriam said.

“I wish I could have been there.” Johanna chuckled. “I would have loved to see Susanna and that silly Eli.”

“But I feel so bad.”

“For what? Being young?” Johanna cut off a forkful of pie, bent and popped it into Jonah’s mouth.

“More!” he cried.

“No more until after your lunch.” Johanna wiped the corner of his mouth with her thumb. “Who didn’t eat his cereal this morning?”

“I like pie.”

“I’m sure you do. Now, be a good boy and run upstairs and see if Katie is still sleeping.”

Obediently, Jonah scampered away to do as she’d asked. When he was safely out of hearing range, Johanna clasped Miriam’s hand. “You’re doing nothing wrong, sister,” she said. “You’re
rumspringa.”

“You know our church doesn’t recognize
rumspringa.”

“Not
officially,
because they’re concerned for our safety.” Johanna gave her a sly smile. “But they recognize the
spirit
of it. Within limits. The point is that you’re young and not yet baptized. You’re supposed to jump the fence now and then.”

“But with a Mennonite boy?” Miriam had already told Johanna about John, about how she felt about him and about the invitation to ride to Easton with him. The only thing she hadn’t shared was what had happened with Charley and his friends at Spence’s.

Johanna squeezed her hand. “The man you pick will be your husband for the rest of your life. Don’t choose too hastily and don’t close any doors.”

“But if…” It was hard to talk about this, even with Johanna, because she didn’t know herself what she wanted. “What if I don’t know what I want? Who I want? Everyone’s trying to pair me up with Charley, but my heart tells me that John…” She let her sentence go unfinished; she didn’t know quite what she was trying to say.