Mending Hearts

by Janice Kay Johnson - His Best Friend's Baby

  David’s laugh caught Miriam’s eye, as always. When he first came home, he’d been so guarded, his gaze so bleak, she hadn’t been able to picture him this relaxed.

  “You should be sitting here, not me,” she told him, shedding puppies so that she could stand. “How else will you decide which ones you want?”

  When he asked if any of them were taken, Susanna said, “Not yet. They’re eight weeks today.”

  Miriam saw him hesitate, probably knowing he’d lose his dignity the minute he had an armful of puppy, but he sat down anyway.

  Moments later, his hat went flying, he had to grab a puppy that was trying to scramble over the top of Abby’s head, and his laugh became hearty.

  “Six of them, and all cute,” Miriam said. “How many are male and how many female?”

  “Three of each. We plan to have the mamm and daad fixed, since this was their third litter. That’s enough for her. This year, she seems tired of the puppies. I think she’ll be glad when they’re gone.”

  “Well, six, after all. You have twins of your own, ain’t so?”

  Susanna was the one to laugh this time. “Don’t remind me! When they were small, they hated baths so much. Getting one into the tub was hard enough! They were fast, and when they were slippery, too . . .” She shook her head. “Times three . . .”

  All the women joined in a laugh, the men grinning.

  David picked the puppies up one at a time, held them in midair with legs churning, and gazed into their eyes as if he thought he could read something deeper than the cheerful, active personalities all displayed.

  “This one,” he said at last, cuddling a golden puppy to his chest and enduring the enthusiastic tongues swiping over his chin, “and the male that looks like her.”

  When Susanna offered a bag of puppy food, David agreed to take the puppies tonight. The mamm dog, looking like a golden retriever, came to check on her offspring, touching noses with each, but seemed unconcerned when he lifted two of the puppies into the back seat.

  Abby had already been told she couldn’t have a puppy until after the new boppli was born, but she sulked anyway until she realized everyone was ignoring her. Then she begged to sit in the back with her aenti Miriam. “Please can I?”

  Miriam knew perfectly well she wasn’t the attraction. David said, “Why not?” As tiny as she was, they’d hardly notice the addition.

  “I’m sorry,” David murmured a minute later, watching Miriam clutch a puppy to keep it from tumbling to the floor.

  “Don’t be silly. This was fun, wasn’t it, Abby?”

  “Uh-huh. Look!” she cried. “He wants to play tug-of-war.”

  With the ribbons that dangled from her kapp. Miriam had to rescue them and hoped not only that the slime would wash off but that sharp puppy teeth hadn’t left any tiny holes.

  A shadow fell over them, and Charlie’s hooves sounded hollow on the wooden boards of the covered bridge. The air felt cool, too, maybe because of the creek below. Moments later, they emerged back on the narrow paved road.

  Miriam often found the movement of the buggy made her drowsy when she wasn’t the driver. No surprise that, when they’d barely turned out onto the paved road, both puppies fell asleep with the suddenness of the young of any species. She held one—the male, she thought—and the other lay across Abby, secured by one of David’s big hands. Seeing what she could only describe as tenderness on his face as he looked at the puppy and the little girl, Miriam felt a cramping in her chest. He’d be a good daad, especially patient because he remembered his own difficult childhood.

  Quietly, she said, “Now you’ll have to name these two as well as the horse.”

  He glanced up with no smile, but amusement in his eyes. “Ach, that’s not hard. What about Sam and Sue, for their human mamm and daad?”

  Of course, it wasn’t that easy. Miriam’s suggestion that he name them for yellow flowers resulted in a lengthy debate that Julia took part in, too.

  “One of them is a boy,” David complained, rolling his eyes at their many suggestions. At last, he shook his head. “Fine. Dandelion. That’s a flower.”

  “Actually, Dandy might be a good name for the male,” Miriam suggested. “What do you think, Abby?”

  Miriam’s niece bounced. “I like it.”

  Julia contributed, “Maybe you had the right idea in the first place. Black-eyed Susan is a yellow flower. The girl could be Susan or Susie, both for the flower and for Susanna.”

  He grinned. “Susie it is.”

  “Susie and Dandy.” Abby’s lower lip puckered. “Can I see the puppies again?”

  “Certain sure,” her mamm said. “When it’s a good time for David.”

  Abby squeezed a sleeping puppy.

  Miriam slanted a smile at David. “Now, there are some orange flowers . . .”

  David shook his head. “Don’t push it.”

  But she saw the humor glinting in his gray eyes and was satisfied.

  Chapter Ten

  He’d forgotten what a nuisance puppies could be.

  David had many more important things to do, but after cleaning up the stall where he’d penned Dandy and Susie for the night—including the splinters from where they’d chewed on wood slats—he walked to the phone shanty that sat across the road on Reuben Eicher’s land but was shared among four households, including the Bowmans. After consulting a well-thumbed local phone book, he called the veterinary office and made an appointment for that afternoon for the puppies to get their shots.

  He’d asked around earlier about the three veterinarians who practiced locally, wanting to be prepared. There were bound to be injuries when he was training young, flighty horses. Like Copper. It wasn’t a bad name, he had already decided, although he might not admit as much to Miriam for a while. He enjoyed it when she got testy with him.

  While he was in town, he’d buy food and some toys, too. Give the puppies something that was safe for them to chew. Although, for now, a couple of Hiram’s old leather boots might do nicely. No one else would want them, and with the leather as tough as old Hiram had been himself, they’d provide plenty of exercise for the jaws of energetic puppies.

  He spent an hour working Copper in the arena again, for the moment using long, crudely constructed shafts but no buggy, just him walking behind the horse and holding the reins. Once he sensed boredom setting in, he groomed the horse, getting him used to having his belly and other sensitive spots touched and his feet lifted. No rearing or bucking, which made this a good day.

  Next time he saw the bishop, he would ask for permission to use a portable tape player. The idea had come to him during the night. He might play music, but he could also record the sounds of traffic, of an engine revving, of a semitruck roaring past on the highway, as well as dogs barking, voices shouting, and anything else he could think of.

  He wondered if any of his near neighbors had an older boy or teenager who might be willing to work for a few hours a week providing distractions and getting Copper used to a second person as well. The Bowmans might know, or he could ask around Saturday or Sunday if he didn’t turn out to be too busy to remember.

  His mamm would say he needed a wife and then kinder, but he would continue to ignore her as he’d done since she began hinting when he was in his early twenties. She hadn’t known he was ignoring her then, because he’d driven girls home from singings and services, even had some fun smooching without ever giving any girl reason to believe he was serious.

  Shaking off that particular brooding, he constructed a crate he could use to carry the puppies safely into town rather than working on his fencing, as he ought to do. Bringing them home right now might not have been the smartest thing he’d ever done, but he did enjoy their antics as they snatched thin slats from him and shook them furiously, growling to show how tough they were. The female—Susie—particularly enjoyed water. She’d drink
from the big stainless steel bowl he’d put out, then pounce into it and splatter water everywhere. Tomorrow, he’d walk them to the creek and small pond. With their retriever blood, they’d take to it like ducks to water, as the saying went.

  Although . . . David smiled at the memory of one of the dogs his family had when he was a boy. Archie was terrified of water, despite having been bred to hunt and having webbed feet. Once, Daad had gotten impatient, picked Archie up and tossed him into a pond, and you never saw an animal scramble so fast as poor Archie did getting out.

  Puppies did grow up quickly. Maybe a shame he didn’t have kinder around to wear them out, but they’d be good company on their own and get Copper over spooking at the sight or sound of a dog, besides.

  When David loaded Dandy and Susie in the buggy that afternoon and drove away, Dexter in harness, Copper cantered along the fence line after them and stopped, forlorn, when he couldn’t go any farther.

  David understood the young horse, having felt alone himself for much of his life, even among others.

  * * *

  * * *

  The following day, Miriam spent the afternoon with a childhood friend who was having a high-risk pregnancy. With a month to go, the midwife had sent Tamara Hilty to see a doctor, who put her on bed rest until the birth. Because she already had two preschool-age children as well as one in school, and her husband couldn’t close the door on his custom window business, Tamara’s friends and female relatives had stepped in to take turns caring for the kinder, cleaning house and cooking.

  Fortunately, Miriam was scheduled to work only twenty hours this week and hadn’t needed to ask for any extra time off.

  Poor Tamara was going crazy being stuck in bed while other women did her work. As usual, her younger kinder were content to sit with her on the bed while she read them stories or helped them with their drawing, but they were lively enough to need to run around, too, and play more vigorously than anyone dared let them around their mamm. All she needed was to have one of them jump onto her big belly.

  Miriam had fun playing with two-year-old Mara and four-year-old Joel, and taking them along when she walked to meet their older schweschder on her walk home from school. At almost seven, Ann liked to help put dinner together and was good company as she chattered about everything she’d learned that day.

  Surprised to feel some sadness amid the joy, Miriam realized she felt as if she had stepped into the life she’d expected to have—but knew wasn’t hers.

  Driving home, Miriam reflected on how exhausted Ira had looked when he got home.

  At her exclamation, he had shaken his head. “Mara isn’t sleeping well, that’s all. She doesn’t understand what’s happening and is worried for her mamm. I’m up and down all night. Tamara always wakes up, too. We’ll all be glad when this is past.” He’d sniffed the air. “Ach, that smells so good. We’re lucky so many of our helpers are such good cooks.”

  She’d grinned at him. “Ann and I baked molasses cookies today.”

  His face had lightened briefly, all the thanks she would accept.

  Miriam ignored passing cars, as she always did, keeping her head tipped away so that the brim of her bonnet hid her face. Polly set a good pace and was armored against motorcycles and just about anything else they were likely to encounter. She could probably fall asleep, and Polly would take them safely home all on her own.

  It had already occurred to Miriam that once Julia quit work, it wouldn’t be near so convenient for Daad and Luke to drive together in the morning, which meant Daad would need to take Polly most days. She would be able to drive with him only when she worked full days, which was rarely more than three days a week. Maybe they’d need to buy a third harness horse so that Mamm didn’t get stuck at home even more days of the week.

  Somehow, Miriam doubted David’s young horse would be steady enough to suit her that soon.

  Her thoughts turned, as they too often did, to David. She’d see him tomorrow again for sure. From what she’d heard, nearly two dozen people planned to attend the work frolic at Esther’s. All without Esther knowing, unless someone had let it slip. Miriam had never heard of a surprise work frolic, which this had been deliberately planned to be, and for good reason.

  No one could be sure Esther would accept the help gracefully. In all the years since Levi’s death, his mamm had never received Miriam with graciousness, however often she stopped by with a basket of special preserves or baked goods, and she wasn’t alone.

  It would be a true blessing if Bishop Amos and his wife attended tomorrow. Respect for Amos should temper Esther’s uncertain temper and choice of pride over humility.

  A car passed going the other direction. Miriam wouldn’t have paid any attention, except that the driver called out something to her through an open window. She didn’t quite catch what he said, except the word “horse.” Nice horse? Ja, Polly certainly was, but—

  Her eyes widened. No. Loose horse. That’s what he’d said. But everyone was careful with gates, so how could that be?

  Not a minute later, she saw the handsome chestnut snatching a bite of grass on the roadside directly ahead, his head jerking up at the sound of the buggy.

  “Whoa,” she murmured, pulling back on the reins to ease Polly to a stop. The young gelding appeared ready to bolt at the slightest excuse. In fact, from the sweat streaking his shoulders and neck, he already had. Ach, they had to be a quarter or even a half mile from David’s farm. He had done some bolting, all right . . . starting with his escape.

  With Polly at a stop, she secured the reins. Was there anything in her buggy she could use as a rope? Thinking quickly, she decided she could unbuckle one of the reins from Polly’s bridle. The sedate mare needed no guidance to go the rest of the way home. Now, if only this frightened horse would let her near . . .

  An apple. On the seat beside her was a basket of dried-up apples left from last autumn in the cellar at the Hiltys’ house. With Tamara’s blessing, she’d taken it with the intention of baking multiple apple pies tonight for the frolic tomorrow. David’s horse probably wouldn’t be thrilled when he bit into the apple to find that it was no longer crunchy or juicy, but if she could get that close . . .

  Moving slowly, pretending she had no interest in one wandering horse, she put a couple of withered apples in her apron pocket, then loosened the left rein. Miriam coiled it around her arm as she slipped the end through the rings and strolled to Polly’s head, where she fumbled for a moment with the stiff buckle before getting the rein unattached.

  “You are such a good girl,” she told the mare softly. “I wish you could tell that silly youngster to come right over here and behave himself. You would, too, wouldn’t you?”

  Polly blew out a breath that vibrated her soft lips.

  Smiling, Miriam listened for traffic, glad not to hear even a distant engine, and strolled forward. The gelding eyed her warily and backed up, one hoof skidding on the pavement. Miriam took an apple from her pocket and held it out on her palm.

  “A treat, see? You’re a handsome one, aren’t you? I can see why David picked you, even if you are a little wild still. He’s a smart man, don’t you think?” She continued talking, voice pitched to soothe, as she approached as casually as she would if she’d gone out to the pasture to fetch Polly.

  The chestnut’s ears swiveled and she saw the whites of his eyes, but he held his ground. His skin shivered over solid muscle. She guessed he had been momentarily triumphant about his escape but quickly discovered it was frightening out in the world, not knowing where to go or whom to trust.

  David must have felt that way, when he walked away from his faith.

  Miriam ignored the thought that flickered through her mind.

  “You’ll be glad to go home now, won’t you? I hope you didn’t lure any other horses out with you, but I think they had more sense, ja?”

  She extended her left hand, moving
even more slowly, giving him no reason for alarm. She stroked her fingertips lightly over his jaw, down his neck. He turned his head and butted her, making her laugh.

  “You want that apple, don’t you? I hope you’re not too disappointed.” She held it out.

  He seized it with strong white teeth and ground it into pulp in seconds. Meanwhile, she continued to stroke him, easing the leather rein around his neck as she did so. She looped the far end through the buckle, not wanting to choke him with a noose but seeing no alternative. Once it was secure, she asked him, “What now, foolish one? If I tie this to the buggy, will you follow? Or do I need to walk you home and come back for Polly?”

  Maybe if she loosened the remaining rein, Polly would follow her and the other horse. Or maybe—

  She gave up on the debate. The safest course was to walk him home. If she took hold of Polly’s cheek strap or noseband, she could lead them side by side. Surely having a steady companion would calm a nervous young horse.

  He went with her with surprising docility. She didn’t dare climb back into the buggy to loosen the tied rein, but really it wasn’t tight. She circled behind the back and came up on the far side of the buggy. Teetering on the edge of the ditch made for awkward going, but she arrived as planned back at Polly’s side with the mare’s bulk between the young horse and any traffic that might come along. Then she started walking down the road.

  The gelding danced when the throaty sound of an engine came from behind. Tense and sweating, Miriam gripped the loop around the chestnut’s throat until her knuckles ached.

  Please don’t tear by, she begged silently. Don’t honk, or yell out your window, or—

  But she could tell the vehicle was slowing, barely moving at all when it came even with her. An older pickup truck that looked familiar. A man bent to look out the passenger side window. She knew him, thought he had a place maybe a mile farther along, but couldn’t remember the name.