Miriam's Heart (8 page)

Johanna made a small sound of impatience. “You have to be careful with that. Your heart can play tricks on you. You’ve known Charley all your life. He’s a good man, steady and he obviously cares for you. You can’t ignore that.”

“So you go along with Anna and Ruth? You think that—”

Johanna clapped her hands together once. “Hush. Listen to what I’m saying. No one can tell you who to love. How do you know what path God has chosen for you? Mam was born Mennonite. Is she a bad person?”

“No, but—”

“So. Mam is a good person and John is a good person. But you don’t know if you’re really attracted to
him
or to the fact that he’s different than what you know. John’s exciting. He makes your heart race and sends chills down your backbone.”

A lump formed in Miriam’s throat. “You’re teasing me.”

“No, I’m not. I’m telling you, don’t be afraid to find out what you want. Go with John to Easton. So long as you don’t lie to Mam if she asks you where you were today, you haven’t done anything terrible.”

“But she’ll say ‘no’ if I ask.”

“Would she?”

“Maybe I should have asked her.”

“What do you want to do, Miriam?”

She looked up shyly at her sister. “I want to go—more than anything.”

“Then go. Call him on your fancy red cell phone and tell him you’ve changed your mind. Go and have a good time.” She leaned forward, her elbows on the table. “So long as you don’t do anything that would shame Mam or yourself, you have nothing to worry about.”

Miriam felt the phone in her pocket. “He may have changed his mind. He may not want me to go now.”

Johanna rose and went to a row of pegs on the wall and took down a blue scarf. “Of course, he does. Take this. If you wear my scarf, instead of your
kapp,
the English won’t stare at you as they pass by in their vehicles.”

“Take off my
kapp?
” Miriam’s eyes widened. “What will John think?”

“He’ll think you are a pretty girl that he likes having along for the ride. If he is the man you think he is, he will think nothing bad. But if he has other thoughts about one of Hannah Yoder’s daughters, improper thoughts, best you learn that right away.”

J
ohn took his eyes off the road long enough to glance at Miriam, sitting beside him in the cab of the truck. “You’re not sorry you changed your mind and came along, are you?” he asked her.

She looked up from the radio dial she’d been adjusting, and the expression in her cinnamon-brown eyes answered his question.
“Ne.”
She shook her head. “I’m not. Are you sorry you asked me?”

“No way, this has been fun. Really. I’m so glad that you took me up on it.”

He couldn’t get over how different she looked without her
kapp.
The blue checked headscarf covered only the crown of her head and the bun at the nape of her neck. He hadn’t realized how pretty her auburn curls were in the sunlight or how easily she’d been able to slip into his world. He’d expected Miriam to be uncharacteristically quiet—even shy, out of her element—but she wasn’t. She’d taken the restaurant in stride, just as she had the unexpected stop to assist an injured cat they found in the road.

They’d come upon the Siamese cat, lying in the other lane, soon after they’d crossed the Delaware-Maryland line on the way to Easton. Miriam had been out of the truck before he’d even turned off the engine. The animal was bleeding from the mouth and he assumed that a vehicle had hit it. Ignoring his warning to be careful, she’d snatched up a towel from the back of the truck, dashed out into the road and scooped up the cat before an approaching tractor trailer could finish it off.

His method would have been more cautious. He wouldn’t have moved the animal until he’d assessed the damages it had suffered and made sure it wouldn’t bite him, but Miriam hadn’t hesitated. “He’s not seriously hurt,” she had pronounced, murmuring soothing sounds to the cat as she approached his truck. “He just had the wits knocked out of him. I think he’s lost a tooth.”

A little water applied to the scrapes and a few moments’ time proved Miriam’s diagnosis to be top-notch. Within minutes, a woman had come out of a nearby house, claimed the cat and she’d promised to take it to her own vet for a thorough checkup. But since the cat was squalling so indignantly and squirming so strongly, John had to agree with Miriam. The cat may have used up one of its proverbial nine lives, but it seemed fine.

“How did you know that it wasn’t hurt badly?” he’d asked Miriam at lunch, over a crab cake sandwich, coleslaw and French fries.

She’d shrugged. “I just knew. Don’t you feel it when animals are sick or dying? When you look into their eyes, you can tell.”

“Not very scientific.”

“Ne.”
She’d grinned at him. “But there’s more to caring for animals than the science of it, isn’t there?”

“Are you ever wrong?” he’d asked.

“Only our Lord was perfect. I make mistakes every day.” She’d wrinkled her nose mischievously. “I just try not to make the same ones over and over.”

Her mention of God had made him a little uneasy. He’d been raised in a Mennonite home, and his mother and sister were active in the church. As a boy, he’d attended the youth functions and never missed services, but he didn’t consider himself particularly religious.

“I think you have a gift,” he’d said. “Uncle Albert has it. I’ve seen him treat animals that I’ve thought would be fine. He believed that they’d die and they did. And I’ve watched him deliver a seemingly dead calf and bring it back to life.”

“Not him,” she’d corrected softly. “He may have helped, but it is the Almighty that gives life and takes it away.”

“Maybe. Or maybe the God you have such faith in touches some people, giving them knowledge they wouldn’t otherwise have.”

She’d shrugged again. “We all do our best, John. But we can’t save them all. Some animals have a will to live and get better and some give up. I believe Molly’s hoof will heal. Don’t you?”

He’d been reluctant to answer. The mare’s infection was proving difficult and he’d already decided that he’d ask Uncle Albert to come with him when he made his next visit to the Yoder farm. He hoped his uncle would have some idea as to what to do next, because he knew how much the horse meant to Miriam and her family.

“What would your mother say if she knew you were seeing an Amish girl?” she’d asked, changing the subject and surprising him with her candidness.

He’d chuckled. “Am I
seeing
an Amish girl? Is this what this is? Or is it two colleagues spending an afternoon together?”

“I’ll have to think about that,” she’d replied as she stole one of his fries, dipped it in ketchup and ate it.

“What about you? Will you be in trouble? If you’re seeing an Englisher?”

“You’re not English, you’re Mennonite.”

“Okay. Will you be in trouble if you’re dating a Mennonite?”

Miriam had nodded solemnly and then smiled. “Absolutely. But this is my
rumspringa
time. I’ve got an excuse.”

“Rumspringa,
hmm?”

“Ya.
Don’t you watch television? Some Amish throw off their
kapp
s and run wild.”

He’d laughed. “So I’ve heard.” And then he’d leaned closer. “Seriously, you should think about what I said. You have a gift for healing. Have you ever thought of going to veterinary school yourself?”

“Thought of it, but it’s impossible,” she’d replied. “So long as I remain in the community, my education is finished. My church doesn’t believe in an English education. We are Plain people.”

He’d wanted to take her hand, but sensed that if he did, she’d retreat from him. Instead, he met her gaze. “But you’re different than the others, Miriam. You don’t seem to be the kind of person to live your life behind walls.”

“Walls to some, maybe,” she’d agreed. “Loving arms to others.”

“I’d like you to meet my sister sometime. I think you’d like her.”

“Is she at home with your mother?”

“No. She’s away at school. She’s a college sophomore and she’s studying to be an elementary teacher.”

Miriam had nodded. “I thought about taking the teaching job at Seven Poplars School, when Mam remarries. I think I’d like it, being with the children every day.”

“Hannah’s getting married?”

She’d shrugged. “It’s been two years since Dat died. She’ll be expected to take a new husband soon. It’s our way.”

“And the lucky man?”

She’d then smiled mischievously. “I think it will be Samuel Mast. He’s younger than Mam, but he spends a lot of time with his feet under our table. He has five children who need a mother, but he’s well set up. His farm is one of the finest in the county. As Anna would say, Samuel is a catch.”

“What makes you think it’s your mother who attracts him? It might be you he likes.”

“Me?” She’d chuckled at the idea. “
Ne.
Not me. Samuel likes women who are more…
meadle.
” She’d used her fingers to tug the corners of her mouth into the caricature of a smile. “A girly-girl. Not so tomboy as me. Samuel would be ashamed to see his wife behind a plow or mending a fence.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, Miriam,” he’d said. “You’re special. And if Samuel Mast or any other man can’t see that, then he doesn’t deserve you.”

“And what makes you think I’d want Samuel? Or
any
husband for that matter?”

He’d thrown up his hands in surrender. “I stand corrected.” And they’d both laughed easily together.

A few moments later, he’d ordered them each a refill of their sodas to go, and reluctantly, he’d turned toward Kent County and home. She’d remained in the truck, listening to the radio, when he stopped at an Easton veterinary practice and picked up several nineteenth-century veterinary surgical tools that Dr. Bierhorst, who was retiring, was giving to his grandfather. They’d then laughed and talked easily the rest of the way to Seven Poplars.

“Where do you want to get out?” he asked her as he approached the Amish schoolhouse. It was after four, the children had all left and her mother would probably be home at the farmhouse. “Should I take you back to your sister’s?”

“Ne.”
She lifted her chin.

Sunlight, coming through the window, tinted the freckles on her nose the color of gold dust, and he felt a rush of protectiveness. “Where, then?” He didn’t want her in trouble for going with him. The truth was, there would be consequences for them both once others found out.
If
others found out.

Neither mother, he suspected, would be happy. His mother would probably be the more upset of the two. His mother held certain beliefs about the Old Order Amish; she thought they were backward and uneducated. He had to agree with her that they were uneducated, he supposed, but many were every bit as intelligent as students that he’d worked with in college. And, as farmers or craftsmen, few could surpass them. He’d always admired the strong work ethic among the Plain people—he’d just never thought that he would be so attracted to a young woman whose background and faith were so different from his own.

“Take me home,” Miriam said.

He blinked. “Home?”

“Ya,
John.”

He liked the way she said his name, the same as everyone else, but different—solid. He smiled at her. “You’re brave.”

She laughed. “In for a penny, in for a pound.” And then her gaze grew pensive. “I went with you and I had a good time. I won’t ruin that by lying to my mother.”

“Sure, I’ll take you home, if that’s what you want. But if she doesn’t ask where you were—”

She leaned close and brushed his lips with the tips of two fingers. She smelled of green apple shampoo and something elusive, something fresh and sweet, something that brought a constriction to his throat.

“Hush, don’t say it. Don’t tempt me, John. Believe me, with Mam, it’s better to come clean and face whatever storm comes.”

Her fingers were warm and her touch was almost a caress. “If your mother is angry with you, Miriam, I should go in with you.”

Miriam shook her head. “Tomorrow will be soon enough for that. I know her better than you. Today, she will not want to deal with you. She’ll tell me what she thinks and she’ll pray tonight. I have no doubt that she’ll have plenty of fuss left over for you in the morning…. If you happened to come by to check on Molly.”

“If you think that’s best. But I feel like a coward.”

Miriam chuckled. “Sometimes even the most courageous of men must be diplomatic. If Mam loses her temper with me, we’ll hug and make up, but if she loses it with you and says things she later regrets, she will be shamed. You’re not one of us, John, and you don’t understand our ways. For Mam’s sake, wait. I promise you, she may yet burn your ears tomorrow.”

Mam was standing on the back porch, arms folded over her chest, watching as John stopped the truck. Miriam could feel her mother’s gaze on her as she got out. “See you tomorrow,” she called.

“First thing in the morning.” John waved at her mother and pulled away. “Hannah.”

“So, he drove you home from Johanna’s,” Mam said as Miriam approached the steps.

Miriam steeled herself. “No. He asked me to ride to Easton and have lunch with him and I did.”

“You told me you were going to your sister’s.”

“
Ya,
Mam. I did, but then I went with John.”

Her mother stepped in front of her, blocking her path. “John Hartman is not Amish.”

“I know that, Mam.”

“Hmm.”

A flicker of something that might have been respect flickered in her mother’s eyes. Miriam took a deep breath. “I rode in John’s truck and ate lunch in a restaurant in the middle of the day. I did nothing to be ashamed of. You have my word.”

“So, my daughter comes and goes as she pleases without a word to me?”

Miriam touched her arm. “I have to see for myself, to know which path God wants me to take.”

Mam nodded. “So I told your uncle. Reuben saw you in John’s truck and came here after school to tell me. He asked me if I knew what you were doing.”

Miriam swallowed. “What did you tell him?”

Hannah folded her arms over her chest. “I said that he should take care of his daughter and leave you to me and your sisters.”

Miriam’s eyes widened. “You didn’t!”

“
Ya,
she did.” Anna pushed open the screen door and stepped onto the porch. “You should have seen the look on Uncle Reuben’s face.”

“He wasn’t happy,” Ruth called over Anna’s shoulder. “A fine mess you’ve made, Miriam. Today, of all days.”

Miriam glanced back at her mother. “Why? What’s wrong? Is someone sick?”

“We are all well, except for Rebecca,” Mam said. “I had a phone call at the chair shop today from Rebecca. Eli had to fetch me from the school.
Grossmama
has had a bad week. She tried to push Ida down the stairs and she gave Rebecca a black eye.”

“
Grossmama
hit her? Poor Rebecca!” Miriam said.

“Ida thinks her mother and Jezebel and your sisters should come here now, instead of waiting for Ruth’s wedding,” Mam said going back up the steps to the porch. “I agree. Your grandmother is too much for Leah and Rebecca right now. I told them to arrange for a driver and I would pay the cost.”

“I’m so glad,” Miriam cried, following her. “I’ve missed Leah and Rebecca so much.”

“We’ve been cleaning,” Anna said. “Getting the bedrooms ready for
Grossmama
and Great Aunt Jezebel.”

“When are they coming?” Miriam asked.

“As soon as Leah can hire a van,” Mam said. “I should have insisted they come home before this. It was too much on your sisters.”

Miriam took her mother’s hand and they followed Anna and Ruth into the kitchen. “Will they be here before the house-raising on Saturday?”

Mam shrugged. “Who can say? But we have more than enough to keep us busy. Your
Grossmama
was never easy, and she will be even more difficult, now that she’s not herself.”

“And she hates us,” Susanna piped up from where she stood near the stove. She’d obviously been baking because there were sugar cookies cooling on the table, and she had flour all over her apron and on her nose.