Mending Hearts

by Janice Kay Johnson - His Best Friend's Baby

  Miriam hesitated. “Are you all right, Judith? You don’t seem to be yourself.”

  “Oh, ach, I slipped on a soapy floor yesterday and hurt my back.” She shook her head at Miriam’s expression. “Nothing serious, just a muscle, but I have to think before I do anything. Sitting around isn’t my way.”

  “But you’ll recover sooner if you take it easy, you know.”

  “You sound like Isaac.” She gave her head an exasperated shake. “You’d think I’d broken every bone in my body.”

  Miriam laughed, pleased to see the twinkle in the other woman’s eyes. “It’s good for them to worry sometimes, don’t you think?”

  Judith chuckled. “No doubt. I’m glad you and Deborah could make it. We don’t see enough of each other.”

  Another matchmaking mother? “It was kind of David to invite us,” she said politely.

  “I’m surprised to see the police officer here, although he was good enough to tell me how much he enjoyed my chicken with dumplings. I suppose Deborah asked him.”

  “I actually don’t know who did, but he has dinner at our house often. Just Sunday, in fact.”

  “Ja, David mentioned that. I think he was surprised to like a police officer.”

  “We all do. Especially Mamm, because Nick is so enthusiastic about her cooking. She makes sure to send him home with plenty.”

  Judith chuckled merrily at that.

  Miriam stood to help with clearing the table, insisting Judith stay right where she was. “I’ll tell Mamm to come and visit. The work won’t take long.”

  She was surprised when her mother took her up on the suggestion, until she saw the two women with their heads together, both darting glances at her and David. Maybe she should have kept them apart instead.

  She was carrying leftovers to the kitchen to put away for David when she rounded the corner of the house and saw him talking to Nick in the shade of an enormous old oak tree. Neither saw her, so she hesitated.

  David’s voice carried clearly. “Why did you stop by today to tell me what happened? I’m not a business owner.”

  “You seem to have a good grasp of the dangers and the sensible precautions Amish who do own or work in a business should be taking,” the police chief said. “Most of them dismiss anything I say. They don’t quite see me as the enemy, but sometimes I’m not so sure.”

  “We are wary of Englisch authority. I’m sure Luke has told you why.”

  Those reasons existed aplenty, centuries’ worth of them. The Amish had fled from Europe to America to escape violent persecution. The stories of ancestors burned alive were told often. They couldn’t allow themselves to forget, to let down their guard.

  Still, she understood Nick’s frustration when he exclaimed, “Yes, but I’m not trying to arrest any of them! I’m not asking them to go out and buy guns so they can protect themselves. What I really want is for them to take steps to make themselves look as if they’d make risky targets. That’s what you’re doing for the quilt shop. Luke and Eli are trying much the same, one or the other spending more time out in the showroom, one of them turning the sign to Closed and locking up at the end of the day instead of letting Julia do it.”

  David was quiet for a minute but finally said, “After the service tomorrow, I’ll talk to people I know. I’ll ask Luke and Eli to do the same. That won’t help with people from the other church districts, though.”

  “I know.” Nick sighed. “But thank you. Denke. Your people all seem so sure they won’t be hurt if they comply with demands, but I’m not so certain. Those men have to be on edge, and they’re armed. All it would take is someone unexpectedly walking into the store or out of a back room, startling these guys. Pulling a trigger is too easy.”

  “Better to stay calm and do what they ask than to resist or be quarrelsome,” David did say.

  “Yes, I agree. The half of my time I’m not talking to Amish business owners, I’m talking to the Englisch ones, trying to impress on them that losing a little money is better than getting themselves killed.”

  “This is one of those times we should all meet in the middle.”

  “That’s about right.” Nick turned his head sharply and saw her. “Miriam.”

  David turned, too. “Let me help you.”

  “No, I’m fine. I just didn’t want to interrupt. This food is for you. Nick, Mamm brought a basket for you, with half-moon pies and preserves. Don’t leave without it.”

  “Now, why do you think I came by today?”

  She chuckled. “For a good meal?”

  “For several good meals. Julia takes pity on me and sends food home with me, too, but hers isn’t like your mamm’s.”

  This wasn’t the first time she’d heard him slip in a Deitsh word. He’d grown used to their ways. It was interesting that he’d come to David out of respect for a viewpoint that straddled Amish and Englisch ways. Luke’s was much the same, but David must have spoken up when the men huddled on the front porch Sunday.

  She still thought any danger in the quilt shop to be unlikely, but had surprised herself with her relief Tuesday afternoon when David tethered his horse to the hitching post in front and walked into the store.

  She had never experienced any kind of violence in her life, and although she felt confident she’d confront it with the peaceful dictates of her faith, she’d much rather avoid any such happening.

  He hadn’t yet asked her about her week’s schedule, but she knew he would.

  Her heart warmed to know she’d see him tomorrow at the church service. No excuses necessary.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Probably he shouldn’t follow Miriam into the kitchen after Nick had walked away, but David did so anyway. He needed her to know he was glad she’d come today. Seeing her back as she set a covered dish into his refrigerator, he remembered something he’d meant to tell her.

  A good excuse for pursuing her.

  He cleared his throat and she looked around the door.

  “It’s really full in here.”

  “That’s because Mamm brought food from home. Along with what she prepared for the meal.” He leaned a hip against the countertop edge.

  “Oh. Well, I hate to see anything go to waste.”

  “It won’t,” he said hastily. “I have a good appetite. I’ll eat it all in no time.”

  She chuckled, that happy sound he often thought about when he was trying to sleep, and went back to the counter where she’d set a pile of containers with lids. As she ferried them to the refrigerator, a few at a time, she said, “Did you know your mamm fell when she was mopping, and pulled a muscle in her back?”

  “No.” David straightened. “She shouldn’t have done all this cooking. Why didn’t Daad stop her?”

  “You know your mother better than that! He’s been trying, annoying her. I don’t think she likes having to rest and do nothing.”

  He sighed. “Of course she doesn’t. Your mamm wouldn’t like it any better.”

  “No, she spent a day in bed last fall, and we finally figured out that there was nothing wrong with her. She was determined to make Daad take a day off work, thinking he’d been doing too much.”

  David laughed. “Does he know that?”

  Laughing in return, she said, “Of course not.”

  He squeezed sore muscles in his neck. “The only time I’ve seen you sit still is just long enough to eat a meal, and in a buggy or at worship.”

  “Oh, I do when I quilt,” she told him, closing the refrigerator door on the last of the leftovers. Or, at least, the last that she’d carried into the house. “Ach, I need to go help.”

  He held up a hand and said, “Wait. I wanted to tell you something. Maybe you’ve heard, but I hadn’t. Jake and Daad said that Abel Hershberger gathered some other men to replace Esther’s roof. She tried to refuse, so Abel asked Amos to talk to her. Daad sa
ys she’s more accepting now. I offered to help, but they thought it was better that other members of the church do their part. He said I’d shamed the rest of them, who should have noticed long since that she needed more help.” Bothered by that, David frowned. “I never meant that. I owe more to her than the others do.”

  Reading what he felt, Miriam stepped forward and laid a hand on his bare forearm. “I do, too,” she said quietly. “Better to say you inspired everyone else. Or maybe”—a tiny smile slipped out—“you gave them courage by setting an example.”

  He grinned crookedly down at her. “David and the lions.”

  “God delivered you from Esther’s broom.” She wrinkled her nose. “We shouldn’t make jokes about such things.”

  “We shouldn’t,” he said, almost gravely, “but she is a fearsome woman.”

  “Ja.” Laughing again, she whirled away in that dizzying way she had. “Not such a bad thing to be.”

  The kitchen door swung closed behind her. Still feeling the warmth of her touch, he stood there longer than he should, doing nothing but grinning. He probably looked doppick.

  Then it was just as well no one else could see him, wasn’t it?

  * * *

  * * *

  Sunday worship took place at Sol and Lydia Graber’s place. Miriam had heard that, after their buggy was hit by the car, Sol’s long recuperation, and the loss of their oldest son, they’d been given the option not to host this service, even though they had been on the schedule for a year or more. But they’d refused to be removed from the rotation, even temporarily, and today they greeted their brethren with joy that took Miriam’s breath away.

  Their faith hadn’t faltered; they’d accepted God’s will and still walked gladly on the path He had laid out for them.

  Miriam hugged Lydia as soon as she saw her, an embrace that was enthusiastically returned. It wasn’t as if they didn’t see each other often, but this was different.

  “Noah grows before my very eyes,” Miriam exclaimed, watching him solemnly greeting John and Leah Mast. “Your girls, too, but not the same way.”

  “Ach, he’s at that age when he eats as much as a grown man and is still hungry.” Her joy dimmed only slightly. “He insists on helping his daad, works too hard, but won’t take no for answer.”

  As Miriam had feared, the boy would never again be the kind he’d been just before he saw his brother die and his father be hurt almost unbearably.

  “He’ll be a fine man,” she said. “You don’t need to fear.”

  “No.” Lydia smiled gratefully. “Denke for saying so.”

  Today, Miriam gave herself heart and soul to the service despite her awareness of where David sat across the aisle.

  Not at all surprisingly, given the events in town and the uneasiness she’d heard so many others express, the bishop chose today to speak from a passage in Matthew that was truly at the heart of their faith.

  Looking from face to face, Amos quoted, “‘You have heard that it was said, ‘An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.’ But I tell you not to resist an evil person. But whoever slaps you on your right cheek, turn the other to him also.’”

  Unless she was imagining it, his eyes rested on Luke and David, sitting side by side, when he reached Matthew 5:41: “Give to him who asks you, and from him who wants to borrow from you do not turn away.”

  Momentarily indignant, she wondered if he doubted the two of them in particular because of the years they’d spent in the outside world. Did he believe either of them would fight the two gunmen? David himself had been quick to remind Nick that resistance was not their way. Yet she felt a moment of doubt about her own brother. The way he looked at Julia held love and tenderness so great, would he be able to stand back if a masked man struck her?

  No, he’d step in between them, take the blow himself. Her heart eased. Of course he wouldn’t counter violence with violence, any more than David would.

  When the service ended, she hurried out with the other women who weren’t slowed by kinder, and went to work in the kitchen to prepare the meal. As she did, she rejoiced in the many sisters, from the young to the old, so willingly working while cheerfully catching each other up on their lives.

  She was the one to say, “I didn’t see Tamara or Ira Hilty. Nothing is wrong, I hope?” During her shift helping with the kinder this week, she’d noticed how restless Tamara had become, as if she couldn’t bear for another minute to be still.

  “Ira’s daad is here,” Martha Beiler answered, “but her mamm stayed to help care for the kinder so Ira could be with her. Tamara went into labor early this morning, he said.”

  “They called the midwife?” another woman asked.

  “Oh, ja, first thing. She’s with Tamara. According to Joshua, everything is going well. We can pray the boppli has been born already.”

  “She’ll be so happy, for many reasons,” contributed Katie-Ann Kline.

  There was laughter, many of them having helped in the Hilty household. They knew how desperate Tamara was to be on her feet again, able to cook meals in her own kitchen, bathe her own kinder.

  These had been hard weeks.

  It would be wonderful if Ira were able to get word to them before the gathering broke up.

  Ferrying utensils out to the tables still being set up, Miriam detoured to give Julia the news. Understandably enough, Julia identified with Tamara.

  “Oh, that’s good to hear!” she exclaimed. “I just hope—”

  Miriam didn’t have to ask what she hoped for. They’d all worried about the boppli.

  “What’s good to hear?” Luke said from behind Miriam.

  Turning to find him and David both, she repeated the news, noticing how Luke’s eyes went to the still barely noticeable swell of his unborn kind. For a moment, David’s gaze did the same before he flushed and looked away.

  “I need to be helping,” Miriam reminded herself as much as them, and started back toward the house. She knew Julia would be following, but was surprised when David caught her arm.

  “I’d like to drive you home again today,” he said quietly.

  Her smile rose from a deep well of happiness. “Ja, I’d like that. So long as—”

  The skin beside his eyes crinkled. “Still too exciting for Copper.”

  “Well, then.” She laughed at him, and hurried to rejoin the other women.

  Hurried too fast, because she almost ran into Esther.

  “I’m so sorry! I wasn’t watching where I was going.” Knowing she must be glowing like a kerosene lamp, she reached for the big platter of cheeses and meat slices that Esther carried. “Let me take that—”

  Esther stepped backward, bobbling the tray. Her eyes burned into Miriam’s. “Are you sounding the trumpet? Being sure to do your charitable deed in front of everyone? Remember what the Lord said. David Miller may admire you for your kindness”—her voice curdled on the last word—“but God won’t be fooled.”

  Even after all Esther’s bitterness, this attack stole Miriam’s breath. Frozen in place, she gaped at the older woman.

  “Did you flirt like this with David when Levi was still alive?” Her laugh could have stripped skin from flesh. “Ja, of course you did. But show the least bit of shame? Not you.” Shaking her head, she circled widely around Miriam, who was too stunned to know what to think or do, and rushed away.

  “What was that all about?” It was David, not touching her, but standing close.

  “You heard?” she whispered.

  “Not all, but—” Lines deepened on his forehead and between his dark brows. “Has she said such hateful things before?”

  Miriam closed her eyes and wished she could rest her cheek on David’s chest, lean until her legs felt steadier. “Ja.” A whisper was still all she could manage. “From grief, I thought. I’m alive, when her son is dead. She hurts so much.”

&
nbsp; “You haven’t talked to Amos?” David sounded incredulous.

  “No. No!” She focused on his face, blocking her awareness of the sounds of children playing, of women coming to and fro with food and dishes, calling to each other, no doubt wondering why these two people had stopped in such private, intense conversation. “I pray for her. I don’t want to get her put under the bann.”

  “If she’s thinking such things, maybe that’s what she needs. It would make her face what she’s doing to you, and to herself.”

  “‘Beloved, do not avenge yourselves,’” Miriam murmured. “Should I strike back at her?”

  He had aged years in this moment. “Taking your worry to your bishop is not striking. Anyway, you know what the Bible tells us. ‘The Lord is near to those who have a broken heart, and saves such as have a contrite spirit.’ Esther needs both forgiveness and to be led to find repentance.”

  “As long as I’m the only one she says such things to, I can live with it. I . . . pity her.”

  “I’m not sure I do anymore.” His voice was hard. “Why is she so angry at you?”

  Sickened, she pressed a hand to her stomach. “I must have done something, ain’t so? Now, I should get back to work.”

  Still seeing that last expression imprinted on his face, Miriam fled. Despite what she’d said, she locked herself in the bathroom and sat on the closed toilet seat, face buried in her hands, until she was sure she could hide her distress.

  * * *

  * * *

  Even amid a tavern brawl, David hadn’t ever heard a tone so like the lash of a whip, slicing open flesh where it struck. And from an Amish woman, a member of his faith?

  He shook his head in disbelief.

  He hadn’t heard everything Esther said; instead, his attention had been caught by their very stillness, but mostly by their faces, the two women blind to anyone else around them. Miriam glowing with happiness one moment, staggering the next, as if she had been struck in truth rather than only with words.

  Only? Words could be as cruel as actions.