“Whoa,” Miriam said, holding up her hands. “Slow down. Give me a moment to think, Leah.”
Leah swallowed hard. For several humming moments, neither woman spoke. Leah’s hands were clasped tightly in front of her, her eyes fixed on the ground. Gazing at her unexpected visitor, trying to assemble her scattered thoughts, Miriam realized suddenly that Leah was wearing a pair of plastic clogs the exact same shade of green as her own. For no reason she could account for, this tipped the scales.
“Tell me something, Leah,” she said. “How do you feel about dusting?”
Leah’s gaze shot to Miriam’s face. In her blue eyes, Miriam saw surprise. And also, she thought, just the faintest hint of dismay.
“I will be happy to dust, if that will help, Miriam,” Leah answered solemnly.
Miriam smiled. Surely the hand of God is in this, she thought. Hadn’t she been considering going to see Bishop John to discuss the farm stand just this morning? And now here was the bishop’s niece, offering to help.
“I will tell you a secret, Leah,” she said. “I have never cared for dusting, myself. It is tedious work, but it goes much better when there are extra hands to help. What do you say we work together for a while? After that, if you still want to help, we can walk to your aenti and onkel’s house and I will speak with Rachel.”
“Oh, thank you, Miriam!” Leah said, her eyes shining. “What shall we dust first? Where do you keep the dust cloths?”
Miriam got the cleaning supplies from the broom closet her daed had built. She set Leah to her first task, dusting the shelves of jams and preserves. Leah went to work with such a serious, determined expression that Miriam realized she had hardly stopped smiling since Leah arrived. Oh, yes, Miriam thought, Leah might be exactly what she needed.
Four
I just don’t understand it,” Leah said. She stepped out the front doors of the farm stand and gave her rag a brisk snap that sent the dust flying. Her tone was filled with such exasperation and outrage that Miriam bit back a smile.
The two had worked steadily all morning, dusting and sweeping and generally putting the farm stand to rights. Miriam had kept one ear cocked for Sarah, thinking her sister might come down to the farm stand once she was up. But so far, she had not arrived. Now it was almost time for the midday meal.
“The farm stand has only been closed for just over a week,” Leah went on as she came back inside. “How can things have gotten so dusty in so short a time?”
“Dust is a mystery,” Miriam admitted. “I think that’s why it’s such a trial.” She gave her own rag a snap, then returned it to the basket where it was kept. Later she would take the rags they had used today up to the farmhouse to be washed.
“But I think that is enough dusting for one day,” she went on. “Come, put your rag in the basket and let’s get the tables back inside. Then we can go and see Rachel.”
Leah added her rag to the basket and followed Miriam outside. Miriam took the near end of the table, and Leah the far end. That meant that Miriam would be the one walking backward.
“Watch your feet,” Miriam said as they maneuvered the first of the big display tables back inside the farm stand and prepared to set it down.
Leah smiled. “These tables will not get the better of me,” she said. “I have my eye on them.”
Once both the tables were back inside the stand, Miriam swung the big double doors closed and slid home the bolt that locked them. Then Miriam switched off the overhead lights. She and Leah let themselves out the back door, and Miriam locked up behind them. Even after all these years, it still felt strange to lock the doors, she thought. The doors to the farmhouse were never locked. But the house stood well back from the road and was partly hidden from view by a gentle swell of the rolling hills that were so much a part of the landscape of the area. The farm stand was in plain view, right off the road.
Daed didn’t like locking up, either, she thought. But her father was sensible in this, as in so much else, and locking up was the sensible choice.
Miriam and Leah crossed to the far side of the road and then walked along the pavement, facing in the direction of whatever traffic might come along, as they made their way to the Millers’ farm. Leah had come to live with her aenti and onkel when she was still a small child. She had originally come only to visit while her parents took a trip to see distant relatives in another part of the country. The driver of the motor coach they were traveling in fell asleep at the wheel, and the coach had gone off the road. It had plunged into a river, and everyone on board had been killed. Leah had lived with Rachel and John Miller ever since.
“What do you think we will have to sell tomorrow?” Leah asked as she and Miriam walked along. “I will check with Aenti Rachel, but I think we still have some late-season raspberries we can sell, and the blackberries are coming on.”
“We have raspberries, too, and so will Amelia Brennemann and several others.” Miriam nodded. “That will be good for the stand. Berries are always popular with the Englischers, and the weekend is coming up.”
“How do you know what to sell?” Leah asked. “How do people know what to bring you? Do they just come to the stand with whatever they have? What if they bring something that you don’t want?”
“Slow down, Leah!” Miriam said with a smile. “One thing at a time. You will understand how things work once you get started. Besides, I like best to learn things by doing them, don’t you?”
“I do,” Leah said, her voice surprised. “How did you know? But I like to plan things, too,” she added, before Miriam could respond.
“Some planning ahead is good,” Miriam agreed. “But we cannot plan too much. The workings of the world are in God’s hands, not ours.”
“Of course.” Leah nodded. They walked in silence for several moments.
While Miriam and Leah had been setting the farm stand to rights, the day had grown warm. The sun was a great ball of orange in the blue, blue sky. The color of Daniel’s eyes, Miriam thought. At the thought of Daniel, a familiar ache settled in the center of Miriam’s chest. No, not today, she thought. Not on this morning that had turned out so fine. A breeze had sprung up, ruffling the grass at the side of the road. Miriam took a deep breath, savoring the scents of the world all around her. She would have known the men in the fields were bringing in the wheat just by breathing in. The whole world smelled fresh and green. Beneath her clogs, she could feel the pavement of the road was growing warm.
“Sarah and I used to take turns seeing how far down this road we could walk with our shoes off on a summer day,” Miriam mused. “The pavement gets so hot.”
“Who won?” Leah asked, her voice intrigued.
“Do you know,” Miriam said, “I honestly can’t recall. What I remember most is the feel of this road beneath my feet. It seems I have been walking along it my whole life. Probably because I have been!” she added with a quick laugh. “Goodness! I don’t know what’s gotten into me to be thinking of that all of a sudden.”
It was Sarah, she realized. Sarah came home and a world of memories surfaced, so many of them sweet ones.
The two women reached a driveway branching off to the left and turned down it. Set closer to the road than the Lapp farmhouse, the Millers’ house soon came into view.
“Oh, look!” Leah said. “There’s Aenti Rachel.”
Up ahead, Miriam could see that Rachel Miller had come to stand on the house’s wide front porch. Two tall oak trees stood nearby, one at either end of the white clapboard house, spreading cool shade along the grass.
Miriam had always felt a closeness with Rachel. She had a quiet, patient way about her that made it easy to be with her. But she also had a sparkle in her eye that seemed to say “I may be the bishop’s wife but I have a little mischief in me, too.” Leah waved, and her aenti waved back.
“Wilkomm, Miriam,” Rachel called. She walked down the porch steps a
nd into the yard. “I guessed that Leah had found you when she did not return. I hope she has been helpful.”
“Danki, Rachel,” Miriam replied as she drew near. “And yes, Leah has been very helpful this morning. In fact, I—”
“Oh, Aenti Rachel!” Leah burst out. “Miriam has said that I may work at the farm stand! Isn’t it wonderful? If you and my onkel give your permission, of course,” she added quickly.
“Leah,” Rachel said quietly.
Leah’s cheeks flamed bright red. She swallowed audibly. But she turned to Miriam at once. “I interrupted you, Miriam,” she said. “I am sorry.”
“Thank you, Leah,” Miriam said, doing her best not to smile. It was hard to feel stern in the face of so much enthusiasm. “I accept your apology.” She laid a gentle hand on the girl’s arm.
“But Leah is right,” Miriam said to Rachel. “In fact, her visit could not have been better timed. Just this morning I was wondering how I would manage at the stand on my own. If you and John give your permission, I’ll be glad to have Leah’s help.”
“Go into the house and set the table for dinner, please, Leah,” Rachel said firmly, but her voice was not unkind. Over Leah’s head, her eyes met Miriam’s. In them, Miriam detected the hint of a smile. “I’ll be right along, but I would like to speak to Miriam for a moment.”
Miriam gave Leah’s arm a quick pat. Casting one beseeching look back over her shoulder, Leah climbed the steps to the porch and went into the house.
“I hope you will forgive her outburst,” Rachel said as soon as her niece was indoors. She made a gesture of invitation, and together the two women walked around the side of the house toward the kitchen garden. “Leah is growing into a fine young woman, but I fear she is a little . . . enthusiastic sometimes.”
Miriam smiled. “I like her,” she said. “And I meant what I said. If you and John are willing, I would be happy to have Leah’s help. Over breakfast this morning, Daniel and I were discussing finding some help for the stand.”
Miriam paused when they reached the side yard and Rachel’s large kitchen garden came into view, with its neatly planted rows of tomatoes, beans, corn, berries, summer squashes, and herbs. “My,” she said, “your garden does look fine.”
“God has blessed us with particularly good weather this year, I think,” Rachel responded. Together the two women began to stroll between the rows. “A good amount of rain when we needed it, and now it is warm but not too hot.”
“Leah said she thought you would have raspberries for the farm stand,” Miriam said.
“I will.” Rachel nodded. “And the first of the green beans, I think, as well as the last of the rhubarb.”
“That is good news,” Miriam said. “Leah can bring them tomorrow, if you are willing she should come.”
“Of course she may come, if you truly think she can be a help.”
“I do.” Miriam nodded. “Though I had no idea she was so interested in the farm stand.”
“Leah feels things very strongly,” Rachel said. “I have cautioned her that it might be better to be more moderate, but that is not a message it is easy to hear when you are young. But Jacob understood her, I think. Leah went to see him at least once a week, and I know they had great fondness for each other. Spending time with your father was good for Leah.”
“It was good for Daed, too. He looked forward to Leah’s visits. He said she made him laugh.”
“He had such a calm and quiet way about him, patient when others might not be,” Rachel said.
“Much like you,” Miriam answered with a smile. “In fact,” she continued more slowly, “now that I think about it, it has always seemed to me that you and Daed were much alike.”
“You think so?” Rachel asked, with something in her voice that Miriam could not quite put her finger on.
“I do.” She nodded.
“Then I will thank you,” Rachel said. “For I take that as a compliment. And you, Miriam? Is all well with you and Daniel?”
“Oh, ja,” Miriam said quickly. “Everything is fine. Daniel is well.” But her voice sounded brittle, even to her own ears, and she could feel her color rise. Just like Leah, she thought. Blushing under Rachel’s steady gaze, though the older woman had made no comment but simply continued to regard Miriam with calm and compassionate eyes.
“It is a lot to take in, all at once,” Miriam continued somewhat haltingly. “Losing Daed, and Sarah coming home. But I am as well as can be, I suppose, and as for the rest, I am trying to be patient and humble and surrender to the will of God.”
All of a sudden, Miriam felt a great surge of relief flow through her. It felt so good to admit these simple truths, as if just speaking of them, acknowledging them as burdens, had somehow lifted the weight of them. As she had earlier, standing beside her mother’s grave, Miriam suddenly found herself wondering what it would have been like to have had a mother, an older, more experienced woman in whom she could confide.
Rachel must be about Mamm’s age, she realized.
“I am sorry that you are troubled,” Rachel said. “Will it help to remember that even our troubles can be gifts from God? Learning how to carry them—and that we can carry them—can be part of how we learn to be truly humble, don’t you find? Though of course this can be very hard. But it is a way to prove ourselves to ourselves, I think, even as we prove ourselves to God.”
“I never thought about it quite that way,” Miriam admitted.
“Ah, well,” Rachel said, her tone gentle. “But then I have the advantage. After all, I am the bishop’s wife.”
The laugh bubbled up and out of Miriam before she even knew that it was there. Surprised, it was all she could do not to clap a hand over her mouth.
But Rachel did not seem offended. If anything, it was just the opposite. “There now,” she said. “I have reached two decisions this morning. The first is that Leah may work at the farm stand. The second is that you should laugh more often.”
“I do feel better,” Miriam admitted. “Thank you, Rachel.”
To her surprise, Rachel laid a gentle palm against Miriam’s cheek. “You are welcome. Now I think we both should head indoors. If I know John Miller, he will be home soon and wanting his dinner.”
“Oh, my goodness, dinner!” Miriam exclaimed. “Can you believe I’ve forgotten all about it? Though in my case, no harm done. Daniel is working with Lucas today, so he’ll eat with his family.”
“Well,” Rachel said, “at least we both remembered in time. I will send Leah and some produce to you first thing tomorrow morning.”
“I’ll look forward to it,” Miriam said. “Thank you again, Rachel.”
Miriam turned and walked with quick steps back toward the road. With every step she took, it seemed to her that her heart felt lighter than it had in many months.
Perhaps Rachel is right, she thought. Perhaps I should laugh more.
Now all she had to do was to figure out how.
* * *
From the window of her upstairs bedroom, Leah watched Miriam walk swiftly down the Millers’ drive. Leah had flown through setting the table for dinner, hoping against hope that the two women would call her back outside so that her aenti could share what she had decided about Leah working at the farm stand. That hadn’t happened, though. So, after giving the table a final check to make sure everything was as it should be, Leah had dashed upstairs. Her bedroom was in the left front corner of the house, and her windows faced both front, toward the drive, and to the side, over the kitchen garden.
I’m not really spying, she thought. I just want to see what Aenti Rachel and Miriam look like. Were they smiling or serious? And which expression might mean that Leah would be allowed to work at the farm stand?
But being able to see her aenti and Miriam hadn’t helped matters one single bit. As a matter of fact, the more she studied them, the more clear it became to
Leah that she couldn’t figure out what Aenti Rachel and Miriam were talking about at all. Miriam looked so sober and serious. So sad, Leah thought. Then, she was laughing in the blink of an eye. But it was what happened next that caught Leah’s attention and held it fast. As she watched, Aenti Rachel reached out and laid her palm against Miriam’s cheek.
Now I know they’re not talking about the farm stand, she thought. And she knew something else. She knew that her aunt cared for Miriam Brennemann very much. For this was Aenti Rachel’s special gesture, the one she used as a way of offering comfort or consolation when no words would suffice.
For as long as Leah could remember, Aenti Rachel had touched Leah’s own cheek in just that fashion whenever Leah felt bad, really bad. Whether it was the flu she’d had just last year, the one that had left her feeling so miserable she wanted to cry like a baby, or the time she had been daydreaming while doing the dishes and let her favorite cup—the one that had once belonged to her mother and was one of the few mementos she had of her—slip from her fingers and fall to the floor, shattering into pieces too numerous to count. Leah had been horrified by the accident, too upset even to cry. She’d simply stood in the kitchen, gazing down at the shards of crockery surrounding her bare feet. She could have walked on the pieces and not bled, she had thought, her body was that numb.
And then Aenti Rachel was there, in the kitchen doorway, taking in the situation with one glance, taking charge at once.
“Ach, Leah!” she had softly exclaimed. “Stay still. I will clean this up.”
Quickly, Aenti Rachel had retrieved the broom and dustpan and swept the shards from around Leah’s feet. Then she had gone for Leah’s slippers in case there were pieces of crockery too small to see that still might cut. It was as Leah braced herself, one hand on her aenti’s shoulder, that the words—and tears—began to flow.
“It was the only thing I had of Mamm’s, and now it’s gone.”
Summer Promise Page 4