Miriam's Secret (8 page)

Rose rolled down the car window as Miriam approached. “Good morning, dear.”

“Good morning,” Miriam replied as she climbed into the car. Rose was also dressed in a black dress, but it had considerably more finery than hers. Nothing inappropriate, but apparently even at funerals the
Englisha
added the extras.

“There's rain forecast for this afternoon,” Rose said as she turned the car around and headed out the driveway. “I hope we get my brother buried before it starts.”

Miriam didn't say anything for a second. Then she spoke in a hushed voice. “I still think of Mr. Bland as I saw him alive the last time—patiently waiting for his breakfast on the porch. It's hard to believe he's gone.”

“You two did have a soft spot for each other.” Rose gave Miriam a warm smile. “I'm glad you made his last years pleasant ones.”

“Thank you,” Miriam acknowledged as Rose turned the car onto the road and headed toward Sugarcreek. “He was almost like a
daett
to me—a second father.”

“I can imagine.” Rose's face was pensive. “He felt the same about you…that you were like a daughter.”

“Did he tell you this?” Miriam asked in surprise.

Rose's face softened. “He didn't have to. My brother's regard for you was obvious to us all.”

Miriam watched the landscape through the car window. “I tried to be a blessing to him, that's all I know. I wish he were still here.”

Rose glanced at Miriam. “I'm not sure when the best time is to tell you this, but my brother mentioned you in his will.”

“What does that mean?” Miriam asked.

“Being mentioned in a will usually means the person who died wanted to give you something. We'll wait until after the funeral to discuss the details. I've set up a brief meeting with our attorney. I hope you don't mind.”

“No, of course I don't mind. Whatever works best for you.” Miriam took a deep breath. This sounded serious.

Moments later Rose pulled into the parking lot of Smith's
Funeral Home. A few cars were already there. This would be a small funeral like the viewing had been last night. Miriam got out of the car, and Rose led the way toward the entrance. The place was familiar from last night, but Miriam stayed a few steps behind Rose. An usher took them to front row seats, and Miriam sat beside Rose. She was seated with the family, which didn't seem appropriate, but maybe they considered her like family in spirit. The service began with a hymn played by a pianist, which no one sang along to. How different this was from an Amish funeral. The place felt cold as the clanging notes rang through the large room. The music sounded hollow, Miriam thought. She preferred the a cappella sound of human voices singing in unison at their community services. She looked around discreetly. Mr. Bland deserved more than this.

When the music ended, Miriam forced herself to concentrate on the speaker, who had risen to stand behind the pulpit. Surely he must be an
Englisha
minister, she thought. He read the Twenty-Third Psalm in a slow and somber tone, and then he added a few words of commentary. How unlike Amish ministers. At Amish funerals, each minister spoke for at least thirty minutes.

Rose leaned over and whispered, “That was Amos's favorite psalm.”

Miriam wiped away a tear. She hadn't known that, but then she and Mr. Bland had seldom spoken about the Lord. She'd been sure, though, that Mr. Bland was close to Him. Such awareness had passed between them. Mr. Bland had loved his
frau
, Thelma, right after the Lord Himself. And now Mr. Bland was no doubt with both of them.

The minister read Mr. Bland's obituary. It wasn't a long one. He was survived by his sister, Rose, a short list of nieces and nephews, and a few other assorted relatives. Miriam rose with
the others to view Mr. Bland in his casket before it was closed for the last time. In this the
Englisha
did things like the Amish. The family didn't linger long around the coffin.

Miriam took a brief look at Mr. Bland's composed face before she moved on. He looked happy, and that comforted her.

Chapter Eight

T
he time wasn't twelve o'clock yet, but Miriam, Rose, and the Bland family lawyer were seated in a fancy restaurant called Dutch Valley located south of Sugarcreek. Despite the lavish-looking menu, Miriam wasn't the least bit hungry. On the way over, Rose had said again that Miriam had been mentioned in her brother's will. This time she added that she knew money was involved.

Miriam's face had gone pale. Did Rose think she'd manipulated Mr. Bland by weaseling her way into his good graces to get his money? That idea had never even occurred to her. Her face grew red at the very idea. “I hope you don't think I was nice to Mr. Bland because…because of….I wasn't after his money, Rose. Money or anything else for that matter. I only wanted to help him and do my job.”

Rose's smile was soft. “I know, dear. I'm glad you cared enough to make the last few years of my brother's life happy
ones. Sometimes one is rewarded for that, and sometimes one is not. This seems to be one of those times when one is.”

Miriam tried to keep her breathing even. “I…I don't know what to say. He paid me well, and I always felt unworthy. Beyond that, Mr. Bland never spoke to me of such things.”

“I'm sure of that,” Rose said. “My brother was a private man. He was very often quite generous and anonymous in supporting his favorite charities.”

Miriam's heart throbbed.
Attorneys, wills, money. Money. It's come up again…just like with Shirley and her desire to be rich. I wish there wasn't anything like money.
If Rose only knew how much trouble money had already caused the Yoder family, she wouldn't even bring up the subject. If Mr. Bland had left her an extra paycheck or even as much as five hundred dollars, she could handle that. She'd just pass the funds straight on to
Mamm
and
Daett.
They'd understand.

Miriam hoped her face wasn't still burning red from the embarrassing conversation about money on the ride to the restaurant. Why was her family doomed to suffer from money problems? She couldn't get away from it even when she innocently did her job and took care of an elderly gentleman.

When they'd arrived at the restaurant, the lawyer had introduced himself. “Mr. Rosenberg,” he'd said without a smile as he rose and shook her hand. Perhaps lawyers were stern people and never smiled? Miriam wondered. Or perhaps Mr. Rosenberg thought she'd done something wrong to get herself mentioned in Mr. Bland's will. What would
Daett
and
Mamm
say if she arrived home and had to admit that she'd become embroiled in some dispute about money? Well, she would solve all of this once she found out what was going on…and her voice worked again. She'd turn down the extra check or whatever it was, even
though that might seem unkind or even rude. She meant no disrespect to Mr. Bland's memory, but perhaps it would be for the best so people wouldn't think she'd connived to get Mr. Bland's money.

The waitress appeared and Miriam waited until the other two had ordered before she glanced up. “I'll take the same. The buffet.”

After the waitress left, Rose led the way to the buffet. All Miriam could bring herself to do was take a little bit of some of the items. She must eat something for the sake of
gut
manners, but if the knot in her stomach didn't subside soon, she'd lose anything she got down. That would be way too embarrassing.

Back at the table Miriam waited until Rose and the lawyer had seated themselves. Rose bowed her head for a short prayer, and Miriam felt relief. What would she have done if Rose hadn't prayed? Maybe a silent prayer would have sufficed, she decided.

Mr. Rosenberg frequently regarded her with a steady gaze as he ate, and Miriam felt the knot in her stomach grow tighter. When would he say something? It wasn't her place to start the conversation—even if she was up to it. The sheer tension of the moment was awful.

Thankfully Mr. Rosenberg finally cleared his throat. “Rose tells me she told you about Amos Bland including you in his will.”

“She did,” Miriam managed. The food had gone down whether she planned on it or not, and her stomach had settled some. Perhaps she was hungry and didn't know it. Anything seemed possible right now.

“And you weren't surprised?” Mr. Rosenberg asked, regarding Miriam openly.

“Yes, I was. I was shocked. I never expected anything like that,”
Miriam began. “I'm pleased that he thought of me, of course, but yes, very surprised. I didn't ask for anything and certainly never desired anything beyond my salary. And even the money Mr. Bland insisted on paying me was too generous.” She smiled at the memory but then frowned. “Rose didn't say much else, but I sense your concern. You are wondering whether I influenced Mr. Bland to mention me in his will. I assure you, I did not. And please understand that if there's even the appearance of impropriety, I'll gladly forfeit whatever Mr. Bland left me. I'm content with what he set my salary at, and I was just happy I got to know him and work for him. If there is a problem with Mr. Bland leaving me something, Rose can take me home now, and that will be the end of it. I don't want any trouble or be the cause of any trouble. My family has enough of them already.”

“Oh?” Mr. Rosenberg said.

The words rushed on. “My sister, well, let me start with the fact that money has caused my family untold problems. My
daett
has a lame leg from a childhood injury, but he works hard on our farm. My brothers help him, but there never seems to be enough money to go around. Yet the Lord provides for us, just as He promises in His Word. So I never asked Mr. Bland for money. Never. I didn't ask for the generous salary he paid me each week. I was thankful, and my family needed the funds, but I was more than content with what I was given.” She glanced at Rose. “Maybe you should take me home now?”

Rose glanced at Mr. Rosenberg with a “See, I-told-you-so” smile. “Like I said, she's genuine.”

Mr. Rosenberg shrugged. “A will's a will, but I needed to ascertain whether Amos was talked into something or not. That's part of my job, that's all.”

“I don't understand,” Miriam said.

“I'm sorry, Miriam.” Rose smiled. “Mr. Rosenberg was my brother's attorney. It's his job to see that Amos's last wishes are carried out. But he also has to make sure there was no…well, no undue influence on my brother in his weakened condition. I knew Amos well, of course, and I know you, Miriam. I have no doubt about the nature of your relationship with Amos. But Mr. Rosenberg knew only Amos…not you. He needed to be sure that nothing untoward occurred so that the will's arrangement won't end up contested in court.”

Miriam gasped. She stood up. “My people don't get involved in
Englisha
courts. I could never have my family involved in any such occurrence. That would be a disgrace. Rose, please take me home.”

Rose stood and gently held Miriam's arm. She guided her back into the chair. “Miriam, everything is okay. I can assure you that you will not be going to court.”

“Let me cut to the chase then.” Mr. Rosenberg wiped his brow. “Miriam, Mr. Bland left you his entire farm, including all the equipment and animals, and quite a tidy sum of money.”

“He did
what
?” The world swam before Miriam's eyes. Had she heard correctly?

Rose seemed to understand. “That's right, Miriam. Amos left you his farm, debt free, along with two million dollars.”

Miriam's gaze was steady, but she wasn't seeing anything. The world appeared white in front of her. The features of the restaurant, including its long bar of food, were gone, replaced by a heavy fog.

Rose's voice sounded distant and unreal. “Miriam? Are you okay, Miriam?”

“We should have chosen a better place to break this news.” Mr. Rosenberg sounded irritated.

“Miriam?” Rose pulled on her arm again. “Are you still with us?”

Things came into focus again. Miriam clutched the side of the table. “Did you really say what I think you did? That Mr. Bland left me his farm and two…two…” Miriam couldn't complete the sentence.