But that wasn’t love. Not the kind he yearned for. Whatever the outcome, he had to tell her the truth. Open himself to judgment.
Also unavoidable was another talk with Bishop Amos, who might place him under the meidung until everyone was convinced he truly had repented—assuming they ever did, when he had held back in his original confession.
Habit started him moving again. Dexter had stood around long enough today, weighted by the harness that might sometimes rub uncomfortably on his thin, sensitive skin. He deserved to receive his grain and then be turned loose to join his small herd.
Including the member of it that was now trumpeting his own demands.
David shook his head. He had to talk to Miriam, and soon. Make right what he could. She wasn’t working tomorrow, but that was because she was hosting a quilt frolic—finishing a wedding quilt for Elam that she’d pieced over the past weeks. He couldn’t intrude on that. Tuesday would be his first opportunity to speak with her, a good one because he had already promised to take her to work in the afternoon and return to be there when she closed the store.
It might be smart to arrive at the Bowmans’ early. Miriam was unlikely to eagerly await his arrival. In fact, he dreaded seeing the expression on her face when she first saw him.
The sensation of having his rib cage compressed increased.
He couldn’t bare his secrets to her during the drive to town, not when she was depending on him to keep her company at the end of the day.
On the way home, then.
That was assuming she hadn’t told her mamm and daad she never wanted to set eyes on David Miller again outside of church Sundays, and that when he pulled into the yard, Deborah didn’t march out to tell him that he needed to leave.
Not sure he could breathe, he let Dexter into the pasture and closed the gate. He prayed while he completed his essential chores, feeling guilty about the bounty of food in his refrigerator given by Miriam and her mamm.
They would forgive him, he knew that. Forgiveness was an essential tenet of the Amish faith, and for two such generous women, it would come easily. But forgiving a member of her church didn’t mean Miriam would be able to love him.
In his heart, he thought it impossible. Even so, he’d made his choice. He could not continue to lie to her.
* * *
* * *
Miriam had taken an unusual length of time debating with herself over what pattern to use for Elam’s wedding quilt. Some, like Fruit Basket or Bridal Bouquet, often made for weddings, seemed too fussy for Elam. Someday, she might make him a variation on the traditional Log Cabin quilt called Straight Furrows, because he was a farmer at heart. But she wanted to take advantage of the gathering of so many talented quilters with a pattern that left open spaces where the tiny, even stitches showed.
In the end, Miriam had pieced Checkers and Rails, all straight lines and sharp contrast, using green against the white background. Elam liked green.
The arriving women all exclaimed over the quilt top layered with batting and backing in the frame set up in the living room. Daad and Luke had moved some furniture this morning to allow space.
Julia was here today, of course, as were David’s cousin Katura Kemp and her mamm, Rebecca, plus Judith, Susanna Fisher, and Mara Eicher. Lydia Graber, a fine quilter, had been pleased by Miriam’s invitation. There’d been nearly a year where she had neither the time nor energy to join with other women at frolics.
Mamm didn’t quilt at all, but she and Rose were helping in their own way by happily preparing lunch for the group and entertaining Abby and Rose’s kinder.
Tired and heartsick, Miriam struggled to set aside thoughts of David. She loved to quilt, and these were all friends who shared her love.
They chatted and teased each other, Miriam’s childhood friend, Mara, suggesting she should have used the Hearts and Gizzards pattern for her brother. “Fitting, when you love him even though he was sometimes awful to you.”
Miriam had to laugh. “Ja, Elam stayed a brat longer than any other boy I knew.”
They all liked Anna Rose Esch, who was shy but so good-hearted, and remarked on how happy she must be that Elam’s farm was just down the road from her daad’s. “Young as she is, being close to her mamm will be just what she needs,” Rebecca said with a nod and a possibly anxious glance at her daughter, undoubtedly being eyed by many boys already, pretty and sweet natured as she was.
From long practice, even a hearty laugh didn’t slow the movement of their fingers: gathering fabric onto the tiny needles they all used, pulling the thread through, not even pausing at the heavier layers of fabric at seams.
They broke for middaagesse, meat loaf sandwiches, hot potato salad, sweet onion salad, and rhubarb crunch. Nothing they had to pick up that might make their fingers greasy, although they all washed their hands anyway before going back to work.
Talk turned to childbirth, a few glances at Katura keeping the conversation from becoming too descriptive, followed by relief that Tamara and her boppli were both well. Kinder in general engrossed them—Mara claimed one of her boys was a jumping bean.
“Like David was,” Judith agreed. “And fine he is, once he grew up.”
Hearing her complacency, Miriam thought about what David had told her. Should she suggest Mara talk to a doctor about her son?
Maybe privately, she decided.
The teacher for the school in Mara’s church district was getting married, and all speculated on whom the school board might choose to replace her in September. A favorite topic was rumors of who else might marry, giving them a chance to tease Katura, who blushed fiercely.
Nobody had teased Miriam in years, but today was an exception. Mara raised her eyebrows at her. “Maybe your daad will be planting celery, too, ain’t so?”
Miriam didn’t know what her expression gave away, but when she shook her head, no one pressed the subject, although she was aware of curious glances. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Judith’s smile die. Miriam was grateful right then for Abby, who appeared at her side, wanting a hug before her nap.
Listening more than participating in the chatter that soon became natural again, Miriam knew with a deep ache why that was so. She and Katura were the only two unmarried women here, and that was only because at seventeen David’s pretty cousin wasn’t yet baptized or ready to make that commitment. But Katura would, Miriam knew without asking. As much as Miriam valued the closeness they all shared, she too often felt like an auslander among them. Even Julia, her sister by marriage and dearest friend, had become one of them in a way Miriam hadn’t. She was married, a mamm, expecting another child. Soon to let go of the job that had given them something in common.
For all the confidence she’d gained, the independence, Miriam knew the truth: whatever she’d told herself, she hadn’t chosen to leave the path she’d expected to walk. The angry words Levi flung at her, followed by his death, ja, those had done damage. But once she’d seen David, she’d glimpsed another truth. She hadn’t felt anything like what Mamm described feeling about Daad for any man—until David. Why that was so, she didn’t know . . . but it hardly mattered now.
Miriam tied off her thread with a tiny knot that would be invisible, and took a moment to run her fingertips over the part of the quilt that was finished. She loved the texture, not soft, no, but strong enough to endure, to be used by Elam and Anna Rose’s son or daughter, and the kinder that came after them.
She could recapture the contentment she’d so firmly believed she felt before she’d seen David at the barn raising. As Julia had suggested once, he’d marry someday, grow a beard, become a daad and—not a stranger, but no different to her than Ira Hilty or Jacob Miller or any of the other members of her church.
She had to believe that.
Chapter Twenty-One
Hollow-eyed Tuesday morning after a second night of tossing and turning, Miriam waited
until her father had finished his breakfast to say, “I’m not working a full day today, but instead of driving myself, I thought I’d ride into town with you.”
His eyebrows rose. “Do you have errands to run?”
“No, I need to select fabric, and then I’ll use the back room to quilt. Now that the one for Elam and Anna Rose is done, I’m eager to get started on a new one. Ruth won’t mind.”
He nodded, his keen gaze staying on her. “David isn’t to drive you?”
Pretending surprise, she said, “We didn’t talk about it. Last week he had other reasons to go to town.”
After a moment, he nodded, stretched, and said, “Luke will be here anytime.”
She jumped up. “I must get ready, too,” she said, avoiding looking at her mother. Mamm was too capable of seeing through her pretenses.
Of course, she forgot to take a lunch, but didn’t say so to anyone. Any mention of buying one at the bakery would have Julia assuming she’d bring it down to Daad’s store to eat with her.
If she could tell anyone what happened with David, it would be Julia, who had looked at her with clear worry yesterday when she shook her head at Mara’s hint that she might marry David. Fortunately, Julia hadn’t had the chance to ask any questions, and Miriam wasn’t ready to talk about any of it. Besides, what could she say? I didn’t like the way he looked at me? Julia would want to know why she hadn’t asked, Is something wrong? Why she had run away from him.
That wasn’t a question she wanted to answer. He was sorry he’d kissed her, that much was obvious. Ashamed, she’d thought then, but really, what if she’d disgusted him, the way she’d clung to him, tried to get closer, as if—
Hurrying down the alley from the back of her daad’s store to the quilt shop, Miriam shuddered. How could she ever look him in the eye again? But how could she explain to Mamm or Daad why she’d taken to avoiding him?
No, it wouldn’t come to that, she realized with profound depression. He would avoid her. Make excuses if Luke and Daad stopped to invite him to eat with them. There would be no more invitations to drive home alone with him in his buggy. No more teasing about Copper, no more chance to talk about Dandy and Susie, or how Abram was doing as his assistant.
Heart as heavy as an iron doorstop, she let herself in the back door to see Ruth’s surprise.
“No, no!” she said hurriedly. “I know I’m not working this morning.” She produced the same excuse she’d given her daad, accepted immediately by Ruth.
Which meant, of course, that she had to decide on a pattern and choose fabrics. Another crib quilt, she decided, deepening the weight of her depression. Always for a newborn, sometimes a gift from a grossmammi, but never for her own boppli. It hurt to realize that the certainty she’d felt about her decisions, her life as a perpetual spinster, had evaporated.
She didn’t know if she could recapture it.
After slipping out to buy lunch at the bakery, she returned to find Ruth upset. Several women were browsing fabric, while others oohed and aahed over the displayed quilts. Lowering her voice, Ruth said, “Sheila called to say she can’t make it this afternoon. Not feeling good, she said. I can stay if need be, or stop on my way home at Naomi’s house—”
Miriam shook her head. “You know this is often a quiet day. The tour bus will be leaving soon. I’ll be fine alone.”
Ruth studied her anxiously. “You know what the police chief said. Is your friend coming again so you won’t be alone near closing?”
“I don’t know for sure, but I think so.” For the first time it occurred to her that, in fact, he might show up. He had taken on the task of protecting her, and wasn’t the kind of man to decide he no longer had that obligation. She forced a smile. “Don’t worry. If sales have been good, you could take some of the money to the bank now.”
Ruth frowned at her. “You know I’m worried about you, not the money. Today, it isn’t that much. We’ve sold some fabric, but no quilts.” She glanced over her shoulder at the elderly women exclaiming over the tiny stitches and clever use of color. She almost whispered, “These Englischers are not big spenders. From a retirement community, I think.”
“Well, they probably had to give away furniture and art so they could move to smaller apartments. Why would they need quilts?” she asked fairly. “I’m glad to see them enjoy looking.”
Ruth sighed. “Ja, you’re right.”
In fact, in the next hour two of those women did buy crib quilts, one of which Miriam had made. That woman was delighted to have met the quilt maker, and insisted she write down her name.
“My daughter will be thrilled,” she said. “The quilt is for her second child. They already know it’s a boy, so this is perfect.”
As always, Miriam almost felt sad to let go of the work of her hands, but also glad to know it would be loved.
Customers came and went all afternoon, most wanting fabric, a few buying books or just a spool of thread for an ongoing project. Most of them she knew, but not all. A couple of husbands hovered out on the sidewalk until their wives rejoined them, but not a single man entered the store—until David did.
When the bell tinkled, Miriam glanced as she always did to see who’d come in. At the sight of him, her pulse jumped. His expression was closed, even grim.
He had reason to be mad if he’d hitched his horse to the buggy and driven to her house earlier, only to find the effort wasted.
The clock on the wall said it was four thirty. She was currently cutting yardage for a regular customer, an Englisch woman who had donated quilts to the auction held last fall to pay the Grabers’ medical bills.
Knowing it would look odd if she didn’t greet David, she said, “I’ll be just a minute.”
Once she’d rung up the purchase and bagged it all, Sandra Somerville grinned. “Denke!”
Also switching to Deitsh, Miriam smiled, too. “Da Herr sei mit du.” The Lord be with you.
Obviously understanding, Sandra called, “And with you,” and went out the door. The bell tinkled until the door closed, then went silent.
Left alone with David, Miriam fought to compose her face. He stood where he’d stopped, just inside the door, arms crossed, and said nothing.
“I had a change of plans,” she blurted. But not one that she could justify, not to him. “I didn’t expect you,” she said finally, quietly.
“I told you I’d be here. You shouldn’t be alone at this time of day.”
“It makes no sense they’d pick this store.” Yes, why not make an argument that would bounce off him like a big rubber ball that came straight back to her.
He did acknowledge her, though. “They may think it would be more of a surprise here, that you’d be unprepared.”
She was unprepared—for David. And yet also relieved because she wasn’t alone, and because she trusted him.
“We just don’t have that much money here, not compared to the businesses they’ve already held up.”
“Some of the most prosperous businesses also have more customers there until closing and more employees. Those men would be smart to go for smaller amounts of money, but less risk.”
Miriam let out a breath. “Fine.” Beyond him, she saw movement outside the plate-glass window. Two women . . . Ja, customers!
“Excuse me,” she told him, and greeted the women who agreed that they could use help. One had been in to buy fabric for a queen-size quilt the other day but hadn’t been able to make up her mind which color to use as an accent, so hadn’t bought anything. Miriam saw right away why the woman had been doubtful; the fabric she’d chosen blended too well when she needed contrast instead. Once Miriam had made several suggestions, the customer brightened. While she debated, Miriam cut out the several fabrics she’d already decided on, then this final one. She added a bag of cotton batting and spools of thread, both for machine piecing and for quilting. Finally, she sent a
nother happy customer off with a cheerful, “Da Herr sei mit du.”
Englisch customers, she had long since realized, enjoyed interacting with real Amish, and hearing Deitsh.
It was near enough to five that she decided to close out the till. David watched in that same bleak silence. By the time she finished, she saw by the clock that five had come and gone. She was running a little late, but didn’t mind.
“Will you turn the sign to Closed?” she asked.
David did so, but didn’t lock. His buggy was right in front.
Miriam was putting bills in the money bag when a knock sounded on the back door. She froze, her eyes meeting David’s.
“It’s probably Daad or Luke, coming to get me.”
“Call the store.” He nodded at the phone.
She fumbled with the receiver as she snatched it up, but managed to dial. With it being after five, probably nobody would answer—
Julia did. “Bowman’s Handcrafted Furniture.”
A harder knock came from the back. Miriam’s breath rushed out of her. “It’s me,” she said into the phone. “Someone’s knocking on the back door. It made me nervous.”
“I don’t blame you, but it’s just Daad. Since you hadn’t shown up, he went down the alley to get you.”
“That makes sense.” Silly to let such an unreasonable fear paralyze her. “David came for me, so you can go without me.”
“You’d better let Daad know, or he’ll break the door down.” Julia sounded amused; Luke and Daad, in protective mode, were probably driving her crazy.
“It’s Daad,” she told David as she hung up the phone. “Because I’m late.” She pushed the cash register drawer closed and started toward the back hall, the money bag in her hand.
“Let me get it.” David brushed by her before she’d even reached the short hall.
Miriam stopped where she was, keeping an eye on the still-unlocked front door, as she heard the dead bolt slide on the steel back door.
Mending Hearts Page 23