Miriam's Heart (9 page)

“Not hate,” Mam corrected. “That is not a word we use, Susanna. We hate no one.”

“Bad people?” Susanna suggested.

“
Ne.
We hate no one,” Mam repeated firmly. “I’m sorry to say that I’m not her favorite person, but I don’t believe that
Grossmama
hates me.”

“So why can’t Aunt Martha take her?” Miriam asked. “
She’s
her daughter.”

“Because
Grossmama
dislikes Aunt Martha even more than she does Mam,” Ruth said, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

Mam put an arm around Miriam’s shoulder. “Enough of such talk, girls. Your Aunt Martha has her own burdens to bear. Imagine what living in this house would be like if we could not have peace in our own kitchen? If a mother and daughter were constantly at odds? You should find charity in your hearts for your aunt, not criticize her.”

“Aunt Martha is too much like
Grossmama,
” Anna mused.

“That may be,” Mam said, “for people sometimes suggest that my daughters are as wayward as I was.”

“You, wayward? Never.” Miriam pinched a broken piece of cookie from the table and popped it in her mouth.

“In any case, your grandmother, her sister Jezebel, and Leah and Rebecca will be here in a matter of days,” Mam said, “and we must be ready to welcome them.”

“On top of the house-raising,” Ruth reminded.

“So…” Mam’s eyes narrowed. “Miriam. Where is your
kapp?
Don’t tell me you went among the English with your head covered only by a scarf?”

“I thought it would cause less talk.”

“A scarf is a head covering,” Anna put in hopefully. She was a good sister, always there to defend Miriam.

“But not Plain enough when among the English. Next time, you will wear your
kapp
or not go into a restaurant at all.” Mam arched an eyebrow. “Unless you’re ashamed of us.”

“Ne,”
Miriam said. “I’m not ashamed of my faith.”

“Praise God for that, at least.” Her mother turned away. “Go on, now, and help your sisters with the upstairs floors. I’ll cook supper.”

“But the chickens need—”

“Irwin is tending the animals. You need not concern yourself until milking time. And one more thing.” Her mother turned back, both hands resting on her hips.

“Ya?”

“You had a visitor this afternoon. Just before Uncle Reuben arrived.”

“Who?” Miriam asked.

“Charley. He wanted to talk to you. He says he’s been trying all week.”

Miriam’s heart sank. “Charley Byler?”

Anna snickered. “And what other Charley has been mooning around our back door like a lovesick calf?”

“He tells me he has promise of steady work,” Mam said. “And he asked my permission to court you.”

B
y eight on Saturday morning, the sound of hammers and saws echoed across the Yoder farm. The day was bright, the grass still damp with dew and the air redolent with the first hint of autumn. Next to Hannah’s house, women and girls set up tables in the yard, while boys took charge of arriving horses and buggies. At the construction site across the field, six men were already raising the frame of the first wall on Ruth’s new home. Friends and neighbors were coming from every direction, on foot, in wagons piled high with lumber and on push-scooters.

At the site of the new house, Miriam, Ruth and Anna walked among the newcomers, offering mugs of steaming coffee, paper cups of apple cider and apple donuts dusted with sugar that Anna had just pulled from the oven. Ruth’s cheeks glowed pink with excitement as she tossed a hot donut to Eli.

“Who made this?” he asked with a grin. “You or Anna?”

“Eat it and guess,” Ruth replied.

He propped his hammer against the foundation, took a bite of the cake and teasingly held it out to her. “Good. Really good. Must be Anna’s.”

Giggling, Ruth snatched the donut and ran off to finish it, while Eli mimed his loss to his laughing companions.

As a wedding gift, Mam had given Ruth thirty acres of land with fine road frontage, across from the chair shop where Eli worked. Unsaid, but understood, was that if he worked hard, Eli would someday become a partner with Roman in the business that Dat had started years ago.

No wonder Ruth was so happy; she had a good man who loved her and her friends and neighbors were building them a new house and barn. And perhaps, best of all, she’d never have to be far away from Mam and Susanna and Johanna. She’d always have the blessings of church and family close around her.

Anna, on the other hand, seemed a little wistful to Miriam this morning. Anna would never envy a spoonful of joy of her sisters’, but it had to hurt that at twenty-one, no one had ever asked to drive her home from a singing or chose her picnic basket at a school auction. No boy had ever come courting Anna and none had tried to steal a kiss behind the schoolhouse. What Anna had said was true. It wasn’t fair that Miriam had two fellows wanting to walk out with her while Anna had none.

Please, God,
Miriam prayed silently.
Can’t You send someone who doesn’t care that my sister is so Plain? Someone who can see past her big hands and broad shoulders to the beauty inside?

“Anna!” a male voice called.

Miriam turned hopefully to see who was calling her sister’s name, but her heart sank when she saw that it was only Samuel, wanting coffee and a donut. Why couldn’t it have been Roland or Titus seeking her out, or even one of the boys from the other Amish churches?

“Good donuts,” Samuel said, reaching for a second. “You make the best apple donuts, Anna.”

Peter and Rudy ran up, and each waited for a donut. If Samuel wasn’t there, they would have begged Anna and she would have given them one, no matter how many they’d already had, but they had a healthy respect for their father. The two were mischievous, but they usually pulled their pranks out of Samuel’s sight.

Anna took pity on them and handed each one a donut. “Are you boys helping with the building?”

“Ne,”
Samuel said, removing his hat and wiping the sweat off his forehead. “These rascals would be more in the way than they’re worth. Back to Hannah’s with the two of you,” he ordered. “Tend to the horses and do whatever the women ask.”

“Daa-t,” Rudy whined. “Can’t we—”

“Off with you.”

Peter looked at Anna, hoping for support, but she shrugged and the two dashed off toward the big house.

“Good coffee, too,” Samuel told Anna, holding up his mug. “Strong, like I like it.”

“Samuel!” Roman called. “We need you on this beam.”

Samuel lingered for a moment. “Well, duty calls.” He nodded to Miriam and Anna and strode back toward the spot where the men waited to raise another wall.

Anna watched him walk away, a big man, tall and broad, nearing forty, and in the prime of his strength. “He’ll make a good stepfather,” she said. “He’ll provide well for Mam and Susanna.”

Miriam nodded. The thought of her mother remarrying was beginning to become more acceptable. No one would ever take the place of Dat. No one could. But Samuel would be kind to Susanna and Mam would have the little boys she’d always wanted. Peter and Rudy needed a mother, as did their younger sisters. It would be a sensible match, with the two farms running side by side.

“I’ll have some of that cider.”

Anna poked Miriam. “You awake?”

Miriam realized that someone had been speaking to her. She’d been so lost in her thoughts that she hadn’t noticed. She turned and nearly bumped into Charley.

“I thought I’d best get some of those donuts before Samuel and his twins ate them all,” he said.

“Help yourself,” she said, giving him her full attention.

He took a mug of cider from her tray. “Good day for a house-raising.”

She nodded. It was a good day and she was grateful to God for the kind weather. A hard rain would have delayed the construction, but this day was perfect, not too hot, with a light breeze. “The house will be perfect for them. You did a fine job on the foundation, Charley. I know Ruth and Eli are grateful for your hard work.”

A slow smile spread across his face. He
was
a nice-looking boy, with an honest chin and warm eyes. “I try my best,” he said.

She nodded. “I mean it. Everyone knows how solid your work is. You deserve the new position helping build the new wing at the hospital.”

Anna moved away, leaving them in what would be the barnyard of the new place. The grass here was nearly knee-high in places, and the last of the Queen Anne’s lace and black-eyed Susans lingered, adding their white and gold and brown to the green carpet that spread out around them. Usually, the cows pastured here, but Mam had kept them out of the field for the last two months, due to the construction. Eli would probably get a good hay crop off his acres before winter.

“Oops.” Charley laughed as a honeybee landed on the rim of his cup. “Wouldn’t want to swallow that.”

“Your cider would have a kick,” she agreed, with a chuckle.

“Ya.”
He nodded and took a sip of cider. “Heard your grandmother isn’t coming, after all. That’s too bad. I know Leah and Rebecca would have liked to have been here for this.”

“All the arrangements were made, then
Grossmama
fell again. The same hip. The doctor says she can’t travel for now.” She met Charley’s gaze, knowing he would understand how her heart went out to her sisters. “Poor Leah and Rebecca, they’re having a time. But both refused to come home when Mam offered to try to make other arrangements.”

“Your sisters are nice girls. Of course, I think all the Yoder girls are.” He cut his eyes at her.

Miriam smiled at him. She just couldn’t help herself. Charley always made her feel good about herself. “You should go back to work.”

“I should. But listen, I need you to do something for me. I want you to send Irwin with the refreshments,” Charley said. “Later, when all the men get here. The talk might get a little rough.” He grimaced. “Not for your ears.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” She didn’t know that she agreed with him necessarily, but she appreciated his thoughtfulness.

“Men tell jokes. Sometimes they are not…what you would hear at church.” He glanced at his feet. “No harm is meant, but…”

She touched his sleeve. “It’s okay. I understand.”

“Good.” He looked up. “You and Anna, any of you, shouldn’t hear such things.”

“And women talk about matters men certainly don’t want to hear,” she told him. “So we’re even.”

“We’re even.” He nodded with a smile.

“Now, I’ll ask something of you, Charley,” Miriam said. “Be pleasant to John, if he comes.”

“What? You think he might not show?”

“I don’t know if he will or not. He might be called out on a case. But if you’re mean to him, I’ll be very unhappy. It wouldn’t be fair. Most of the people here are Amish. He might feel like an outsider.”

“He
is
an outsider, Miriam. That’s the thing. He’s a nice guy. I like John, but he isn’t one of us.” He looked right into her eyes. “And he isn’t for you.”

She stiffened. “That’s for
me
to say, not you.”

“Miriam! I’m going back to the house for more coffee and donuts,” Anna called. “That second batch should be out by now.”

She shoved the tray of cider into Charley’s hands. “Wait! I’ll come with you!”

“Dangi,”
Charley called after her. “For the cider.”

“Just remember what I said about John. Don’t be rude to him.”

“Wouldn’t think of it.”

As Miriam and Anna walked away, Anna leaned close and whispered. “You’re too hard on him.”

Miriam sighed. “You’re probably right. It’s just that I don’t know what to do about him. For years, he was content to be the boy I’d play in the mud with. Now, he wants more of me, and I…I don’t know if I can give that.”

“Well, just be sure that’s really how you feel,” Anna said. “Some other girl will snatch him up and you may be sorry.” She took Miriam’s hand. “Like what happened to Johanna’s Roland.”

“Johanna’s Roland?” Miriam stared at her in surprise. “I know they used to walk out together, but that was before she met Wilmer. She’s a married woman. You shouldn’t say such things about our sister. That’s all in the past.”

“Mmm,” Anna replied. “
Ya,
it is in the past, but it’s still what happened. If Johanna and Roland hadn’t argued, he might be our brother-in-law instead of Wilmer. And I think Johanna would be a lot happier.” She whispered the last sentence in Miriam’s ear.

Miriam stopped and looked into Anna’s eyes. “Do you know something I don’t? Has Johanna complained about her husband?” she asked, in shock.

Anna shook her head. “
Ne.
Johanna would never complain, but I watch her. I see her look at Roland sometimes, when she thinks no one is watching. Her heart is heavy, twin.”

Miriam thought about what Anna was saying. “I’ve never really liked Wilmer, but he’s a devoted church member and he provides well for his family. What do you think is wrong? What have I missed?”

“Sometimes I don’t think you notice what’s in front of your nose.”

“What haven’t I noticed?” Miriam asked, feeling badly that she hasn’t been more aware of what was going on in her dear sister’s life.

Anna bent and picked a black-eyed Susan. For a few seconds, she twirled it between her big, plump fingers and then began to pluck the petals, one at a time. “It is wrong to bear false witness and wrong to gossip, but my heart aches for Johanna, so to you, I will confide what I suspect.”

Miriam waited, her breath caught in her throat.

“Do you see Wilmer playing with Jonah?”

“
Ne.
I never have, but I thought that maybe when he was older…” She trailed off. “Not all men are like Samuel or our Dat. Many don’t have an easy way with young ones.”

“Wilmer is dark—dark beard, dark bushy eyebrows, swarthy skin. Roland is fair, as is little Jonah.”

“What of it? Johanna is a redhead like the rest of us. It’s only natural that Jonah be fair-skinned with light hair. He takes after our family.”

“And the baby, Katie? She is dark-haired like Wilmer,
ne?”

Miriam took a step back. “Stop it, Anna. That’s evil. You’re not suggesting that Wilmer isn’t Jonah’s father, are you?”

Anna’s eyes grew hard as winter wheat. “I would never suggest such a terrible thing. You know our Johanna. Pure she was on her wedding night. Mam and I washed her sheets. I saw the proof with my own eyes.”

“Then why would you think such a thing?” Miriam shook her head. She’d never expected to hear such words out of Anna’s mouth—not Anna. She thought well of every one.

“I’m afraid Wilmer thinks otherwise,” Anna confessed. “When Jonah was born, he took one look at him and walked out of the house. He didn’t speak to Johanna until the following day, and I heard her tell Mam that Wilmer asked whose child he was.”

“Such wickedness. He’s a stupid man. Too foolish to realize what a good wife he has. But that was more than three years ago, nearly four. Surely, he can’t…”

Anna shrugged. “All I know is that last year, when things seemed really bad between them, I saw Johanna with a bruise on her face. She said that she’d bumped into a pantry door, but there were also bruises that looked like fingerprints on her wrist. Mam went to Bishop Atlee. I don’t think Wilmer has struck her again, but something is wrong in that house.”

“And you never told me?”

“It was a great weight on my heart.” She plucked the last petal from the black-eyed Susan and tossed the broken flower away. “Why should I burden you when I could pray for them myself? And I do, every night.”

“Then why tell me now?”

Anna was thoughtful for a moment. “Because I think Johanna chose the wrong man. And I want to make sure that you, my dear twin, don’t make the same mistake. You and I are almost the same person, despite our outward differences. Better for you to be an old maid like me than to make a bad marriage and live to regret it.”

Miriam’s knees went weak. How could this all have happened without her knowledge? And how could Anna have borne this trouble alone? “You think I mean to choose John? And leave the faith?”

“I believe John is a good person. I can’t say what life God intends for you. Just be certain it’s not the world that calls to you, rather than the man. You are wise in so many ways, much smarter than I am. But when it comes to simple truths, you sometimes rush past without seeing what is in front of you.”

Miriam looked away. “You mean Charley. You think I’m discounting him?”

“I mean you must think about what is best for you. Not for the family. Not even for the church. Ask the Lord for guidance. Whatever you choose, this man or that, or none, I will always love you, Miriam. And I will always be there for you.”