Mending Hearts

by Janice Kay Johnson - His Best Friend's Baby

  “I do love working with horses. I don’t know yet if I can make a living breeding and training them, but thanks to Onkel Hiram, I’ll have the chance to find out.”

  As they distributed paint cans around the house, Luke commented that Miriam had mentioned finding his runaway horse on the road.

  “I fixed the span he broke through, but Monday I intend to walk the entire fence line of that pasture and make sure it can’t happen again.” He shook his head. “I shouldn’t have waited, but there’s been so much to do.”

  “I hear you’re to confess before us tomorrow.”

  David hunched his shoulders, no doubt betraying his renewed discomfiture. “Amos thinks I’m ready.”

  “You’d have been smarter to take off before you were baptized, like I did,” Luke said, his smile both sly and sympathetic.

  “Ja, now you tell me.”

  This laughter was healing. He could take comfort tomorrow in knowing the Bowmans would be present when the time came, friends who had already accepted him. Unlike his own brother, David couldn’t help thinking. What if Jake chose to vote against David’s acceptance back into the congregation?

  No, David didn’t believe he’d do that. Jake seemed wary, not hostile. Because I broke too many promises to him.

  He shook off the old regret and the questions about the personal bann his brother had chosen to place him under. There would be time for him to prove to Jake that he was trustworthy. Today was the beginning of his attempt to do what he could to make up for even a small part of what Esther had lost with Levi’s death.

  Miriam had said she’d be here today. David refrained from asking for confirmation from Luke. Asking would have opened him to speculation he didn’t dare awaken.

  * * *

  * * *

  Miriam and her mother drove to Esther’s together. She was happy to spot Copper grazing on the far side of the fence where he belonged, sticking close for once to the old mare. Was it possible he’d learned a lesson yesterday?

  She almost laughed. That was like asking if a wild seventeen-year-old in his rumspringa learned common-sense lessons from every foolish mistake.

  Miriam hadn’t made many of the usual mistakes because of her determination to captivate Levi. Why would alcohol, partying, or riding in an Englisch boy’s fast car appeal to her? She’d been foolish enough to wish that Levi would ask her to join him when he raced buggies with other young men, but otherwise she’d wanted most to grow up, for him to see her as a woman and not the little girl who had trailed him around. The racing, so dangerous, might have been his one form of rebellion. After the shock of losing his daad when he was so young, leaving only a stunned boy and his grieving mamm, he’d had no choice but to take his father’s place and make a living to support his mother.

  Her mind turned to picturing David as a boy, but not the solemn, obedient kind she would once have assumed him to be, if she’d thought that much about him. Of course she’d always known his family, since they were in the same church district, but even David’s younger brother, Jake, was older than she was. Levi’s age, if she remembered right from school. She liked Judith and Isaac, who seemed to be kind, Isaac especially having a dry sense of humor. David’s difficult childhood was a reminder that what she saw of a family from the outside wasn’t always accurate. Now she knew that, in running from his faith, he had been fleeing far more than his guilt and anguish about Levi’s death.

  With her mamm seemingly content to ride in silence, Miriam brooded about the strange scene yesterday, when David got so angry at her for doing nothing more terrible than capturing his loose horse and returning it to the barn. It was almost as if he were thrown back to the moment when he’d seen a tree falling wrong and known Levi was in its path. As if he didn’t understand that she’d brought Copper home, and, ja, the horse had gotten excited, but David had arrived to help and it was all over. Neither she nor the horse was hurt.

  In David’s mind, he must have been mired at the beginning, imagining how many things might have gone wrong. Maybe that was natural, after the one time things did go so terribly wrong. Daad tended to yell when Luke or Elam especially had scared him. Maybe all men did that, raging against the helplessness they’d felt.

  What Miriam couldn’t forget was that one strange moment when David’s fingers had bitten into her upper arms and he looked down at her with eyes glittering with some intense emotion. For an instant, she’d almost thought— But that was absurd. David had never been interested in her that way. And even Levi, who had liked smooching with her, had never looked at her quite like that.

  David had been mad, that’s all. She would just hope he’d gotten over it today.

  Mamm didn’t speak until Polly turned off the road and trotted up the hard-packed lane toward the line of parked buggies. “I hope Esther isn’t upset with us. Surprises are fun when you’re a kind, but not as much so at our age.”

  Miriam glanced at her. “Did you know her as a girl? She looks older than you, but I guess she can’t be.”

  “She married late, didn’t have Levi until she was almost thirty, I think. She’s younger than I am, but I started my family so much sooner.” Forehead wrinkled, Mamm seemed lost for a minute in the past. “Her parents were much older than mine, and she was their only child. A miracle, that late arrival, everyone thought. But they were stern, not understanding that the young need to have fun sometimes. Esther was never a happy girl, and not popular with the boys.” Mamm flushed. “I shouldn’t have said that. She’s a good woman, just inclined to think the worst of people. I worried—”

  “Worried?” Miriam reined Polly into a spot next to Charlie and her brother’s buggy.

  “About you sharing a home with her. There’s no grossdawdi haus here, you know, and I doubted she’d have been ready to move into one anyway, give way to a girl as young as you were.” Mamm seemed to shake herself. “Ach, water under the bridge. I’m glad David decided to do this. I feel guilty I haven’t been pushier with Esther. We never should have let her keep apart so much of the time.”

  “I’ve tried, but not as hard as I should have,” Miriam agreed.

  “You tried harder than anyone else,” Mamm retorted with unusual sharpness. “It wonders me why she refused to accept help so gladly offered.” Calling a greeting to the first boy to arrive, she climbed out. “We’ll need help to carry these tables to the lawn.”

  A second boy showed up, and even though the two were too slight to be included in the big jobs, they willingly carried the folding tables while Miriam and Deborah brought the food.

  Miriam didn’t immediately see David, or Luke, either, for that matter. Her eyes settled on a dark-haired and dark-eyed man who didn’t look familiar. Married, she assumed, because of his beard, although he could be a widower. An Amishman didn’t shave his beard even if he lost his wife. Maybe close to Luke’s age, he’d dressed in old clothes, fortunately, because he was spattered with white paint that would not wash out. He called around the corner of the house to someone else, then turned and saw them.

  He crossed the lawn in long strides. “Do you need a hand? We’re glad to see you. I’m Gideon Lantz. I live right next door to Esther.” He nodded to the south.

  “Judith Miller has mentioned you,” Mamm said, after introducing herself and Miriam.

  “I bought land here last year at the urging of cousins who live across the river. Because of them, I’m in Bishop Ropp’s district.”

  “Ach, well, it’s good to meet you,” Mamm said. “We expect some other women with food. My sister Barbara and Judith Miller, for certain sure.”

  Gideon promised to produce help to carry any additional tables, chairs, and food, disappearing after a moment around the house.

  Miriam looked around. “I don’t see Esther.”

  “I hope she isn’t being stubborn.”

  Clearly uninterested in their hostess, Mamm said, “Judith
talks about Gideon. I’d forgotten he lived so close. She told me he’s a widower. That’s why I didn’t ask after his wife. He has two kinder, a five-year-old girl and a seven-year-old boy.”

  Miriam recognized that elaborately casual voice. It seemed she’d been wrong. Mamm hadn’t entirely given up on her youngest daughter marrying. She couldn’t resist hinting when a new man presented himself. Although why Gideon and not David? Because David’s status within their church was still unsettled?

  A kick in her chest told her it was more likely her mother recognized that David’s close friendship with Levi complicated any relationship they might have. Or did she only think that, because Miriam had never expressed any interest in David in the past, her feelings were unlikely to change now?

  Miriam made herself start breathing again. What a very odd moment to realize that, in fact, her feelings had changed.

  Chapter Twelve

  Having shocked herself, Miriam stood unmoving on the lawn in front of Esther Schwartz’s house. She couldn’t forget that strange moment after she’d brought his horse home when she thought David might kiss her. If he’d given her time to react . . . Now she knew she had felt a flare of hope.

  Her calling up Levi’s name right then hadn’t been a deliberate defense. Maybe some buried part of her had thrown it up without asking permission even though she wasn’t thinking about Levi at all. It was David she saw, David she’d been thinking about, David’s fingers imprinting themselves on her arms. David’s intense gray eyes burning into hers.

  Panicking seemed like a fine idea right now. Especially when he walked around the corner of the house at that very moment, his eyes finding her as if no one else were there on the lawn. But before he reached her and Mamm, she realized that Esther accompanied him. Speaking of deliberate, Levi’s mother looked right past Miriam, as if she weren’t there, nodding at Mamm once she was close enough.

  “This is kind of you, Deborah,” she said, going right by Miriam without so much as a glance. “I’ve told David it wasn’t necessary, but I’m glad for the help anyway.”

  Mamm hugged her. “We don’t see you often enough. I knew David and Gideon were plotting this without telling you, which is a shame because you make the best half-moon pies of all of us. Your sourdough biscuits, too. Well, we’ve done our best—”

  “I did bake biscuits this morning while the men started work. I made my sausage and cabbage dish, too. When we’re ready to eat, I’ll bring it out.”

  Well. Miriam lowered her head, occupying herself with laying out silverware and napkins.

  A man just behind her murmured, “Are you under the meidung and I didn’t know it?”

  David, of course.

  “I do feel like it. Invisible, was what I was thinking.”

  “I don’t understand, when Levi loved you.”

  Barely speaking over a whisper, she said, “I think she always believed he’d do better with another girl.” Because Esther knew Levi hadn’t really loved her? Or because she truly believed Miriam was too frivolous, too inconstant for her beloved son?

  He frowned. “I don’t remember seeing you and Esther together.”

  “We spoke at fellowship meals.” Even then, she’d been hurt because Esther never asked her to join in preserving the fruits of her garden or to make the honey she’d then been known for. Others must have noticed that Esther hadn’t treated Miriam like a future daughter.

  David’s eyes were watchful, but he only said, “From those Sundays, I mostly remember watching you play volleyball.”

  She made a face at him. “I wasn’t very good at it. Considering I couldn’t leap high enough to spike the ball over the net . . .”

  “The net you could walk right under without even ducking,” he suggested.

  Miriam huffed with mock indignation, even as she realized he’d cheered her up. Just as he’d intended, no doubt.

  Seeing her expression, he grinned. “I’d better get back to work, since I’m in charge.”

  She widened her eyes. “Is giving orders such hard work?”

  He bent his head and spoke close to her ear. “Watch yourself or I’ll start to sympathize with Esther.”

  Her peal of laughter surprised her. His eyes seemed to darken to charcoal, but he was smiling when he walked away.

  * * *

  * * *

  Several hours later, the men were well-fed and back to work. Several were using brushes to paint trim on the house, while a generator set up by the barn hummed as two men used sprayers. The smell of fresh paint was so strong, Miriam wrinkled her nose.

  Arms full of dirty dishes, she smiled her thanks to Mara Eicher who, on her way out, held the door for her. Mara and she had been friends since they were toddlers. Since Reuben Eicher farmed the land across the road from the Bowmans, Miriam had grown up playing with the Eicher kinder.

  She continued to the kitchen, stopping in the doorway. Putting food away, Esther had her back to Miriam, but there was no time to retreat. Esther turned, as if she’d heard a creak of the old floorboards.

  The two women stared at each other.

  Miriam made herself smile. “Your house looks good, Esther. Although the men have almost as much paint on themselves as they managed to get on the siding—”

  Esther snapped, “Are you here to remind everyone that you’re the poor, grieving girl who should have been Levi’s wife? If people knew the truth . . .”

  Miriam’s hands were shaking. She needed to put down the dishes before she dropped them. She stepped forward and carefully set down her load beside the deep sink.

  Why was Levi’s mamm so determined to hurt her? Was she filled with agony that must be released?

  “What is the truth?” Miriam asked carefully. “Whatever you think, I did love Levi.”

  Esther snorted. “You and that Miller boy, all you ever wanted was to steal Levi away.”

  Stunned, Miriam hardly knew how to reply. But words came. “I wanted to marry your son, love him, give him kinder. Share this home with him and you, my second mother. How was that stealing him?”

  “He wasn’t ready for marriage. He wouldn’t have even thought of it if you weren’t pushing,” she said bitterly. “If he’d done as I begged, he’d be alive. I’ll ask you not to come to this house again.”

  Clutching her apron with a white-knuckled grip, Esther hurried past Miriam. A moment later, a door opened and closed. Miriam couldn’t tell if Esther had gone outside or barricaded herself in another room.

  Her hands still trembled. She couldn’t start washing dishes, or she’d break some of them, she would for sure. Nausea swirled in her stomach. Her chest felt as tight as a quilt stretched taut in a frame.

  Why had Esther clung to such anger? She must have known then that Levi would never marry Miriam. Did she resent the sympathy people had felt for Miriam, feel it should all have been saved for her?

  I did love him.

  Taking slow, deep breaths, Miriam sought for composure. Returning anger for anger was wrong. Words from Matthew came to her as if her Lord spoke them.

  But I tell you not to resist an evil person. But whoever slaps you on your right cheek, turn the other to him also. If anyone wants to sue you and take away your tunic, let him have your cloak also. And whoever compels you to go one mile, go with him two.

  Anger erased, burning regret filled her. She would have tried to love Levi’s mamm, for his sake and for her own. She’d never lash out at a woman who needed kindness more than anyone else Miriam had ever known. Yet, what was the right thing to do? To keep offering a helping hand? Or to do as Esther asked, and stay away?

  Did David know how much vitriol she felt for him?

  Should I tell him? Miriam wondered. But she knew he still suffered from guilt for failing to prevent Levi’s death, and what good would it do him to know that Esther blamed him as much or more than he could ever blame hi
mself?

  He’d already chosen the path of a righteous man, taking heart from the counsel of Jesus, determined to do for her what he could. Miriam had come to admire him for that. No one would have questioned a decision to focus first on getting his own land and farm in shape, his business started.

  The sound of a door and voices told her she wouldn’t be alone for more than a moment. Making a decision, she resolved to do the same as David was. She’d try not to be alone with Esther again, but in her own way, she could turn the other cheek. Do what good she could for Levi’s mamm without forcing her to feel grateful—or even aware of who had baked those pies or canned that applesauce.

  Right now, she’d wash the dishes. She turned on the water and reached for the dish soap just as Judith Miller and her own mother brought more dirty dishes into the kitchen.

  Judith smiled. “If you’ll wash for a bit, I’ll dry, and then we can trade places.”

  “And I’ll put away the leftovers,” Mamm declared. “Esther should have enough to eat for days, giving her time to catch up on her other chores.”

  Her brooding, too. That was what she was likeliest to catch up on.

  Disappointed at her own lack of charity, Miriam scrunched up her face when the other two women wouldn’t see her.

  Ach, well, she consoled herself, the Lord expected his followers to strive for perfection, but understood they sometimes fell short.

  * * *

  * * *

  Several sparrows swooped high above the heads of the people invading their barn on Sunday. They were probably worried about their young in nests tucked among beams somewhere up there, not understanding the intrusion.

  Miriam didn’t realize how inadequately she was attending to the service until the third or fourth—or it might even be the fifth—time she turned her head to catch a glimpse of David among the men.

  She chided herself. Fussing, that’s what she was doing, when she should be thinking about God. She hadn’t even realized how worried she was for him.