“Miriam,” Daniel said. “I . . .”
But Miriam was in no mood to wait. Thrusting her feet into her waiting clogs, she snatched up the meals she had prepared for Leah and Eli, gave the kitchen screen door a shove, and stepped out onto the porch. And then she was moving swiftly away from the house, the taste of the words she had tried so hard not to say leaving a strange, bitter flavor in her mouth as the screen door banged shut behind her.
* * *
Wham!
A car door slammed and Leah whirled toward the sound. She was just in time to see an Englisch guy not much older than she was come around the side of a bright red car. The car was sleek and lean and so low, it seemed to hug the ground. In the weeks since she had started working at the farm stand, Leah had seen more kinds of cars than she’d ever known existed. But she had never seen a car like this before.
The passenger door opened and a second young man got out. Like the first, he wore dark jeans. But where the driver wore a pristine white T-shirt, the guy in the passenger seat wore no shirt at all! Quickly, Leah lowered her eyes.
I can handle this, she thought. Besides, it wasn’t as if she had much choice. Sarah had left to run an errand, and Eli wasn’t anywhere in sight.
“I’m sorry about my friend,” Leah heard a deep voice say.
She raised her eyes, focusing on his face. The driver was tall. So tall that Leah had to tilt her head back to see him clearly. How on earth does he fit his legs into that tiny car? she wondered. The young Englischer’s face was very tan.
“He doesn’t mean any harm,” the young man went on. He flashed Leah an easy smile, revealing a set of perfectly even white teeth. “He just always wants pretty girls to notice him, that’s all.”
Leah was glad her own smile was already in place. It was something Sarah had taught her. Always smile at an approaching customer. But still, she felt her cheeks begin to grow hot. She was blushing, and, even worse, Leah was pretty sure this particular customer would misunderstand the cause.
Does he think I’m stupid? she wondered. Just because I’m Plain. Or maybe Englisch girls liked that sort of remark. In which case, Leah was glad she wasn’t one of them.
“May I help you?” she asked politely.
“Oh, I think so,” the young man said. “I’m looking for something . . . very special.”
“Is it for a special occasion?” Leah asked, feeling a little better now that she had found a way to deflect his remark. Asking this question was also something she had learned from Sarah.
“Yes,” the young Englischer said at once. “I, uh, need to make a good first impression.”
“Oh, well, in that case,” Leah said, “I’m sure I can help.”
She turned away from him and walked around to the far side of the display table, so that she would be better able to point out some selections. Leah was feeling much more comfortable now. She was pretty sure this young man had just lied to her. That made helping him easier, in a way. In the time she had worked at the farm stand, Leah had encountered this kind of Englischer before. He did think she was stupid because she wasn’t like him. So stupid that she would be blinded by idle compliments and the sight of a fancy red car.
“These berries are very nice,” she said, gesturing to the basket she had set out just moments before. “And very fresh. They were picked just this morning.”
“Hey, Steve,” called out his passenger, who was leaning against the car. “We haven’t got all day. Come on.”
“In a minute,” the guy named Steve yelled back without turning around. “Keep your shirt on.”
The guy at the car gave a snort of laughter. Leah didn’t let her eyes so much as flicker in his direction, but an idea was beginning to take shape in the back of her mind.
“So this is the best you’ve got,” Steve said.
“Oh, no,” Leah answered with a smile. “Everything here is good. May I show you something else?”
Steve hesitated for a second, and then seemed to make up his mind. “No, that’s okay,” he said. “On second thought, I’m not so sure you have anything I want after all.”
“I’m sorry to hear you say that,” Leah said. She picked up the basket of berries quickly, before she could change her mind. Then she walked around the end of the table, making straight for the guy leaning against the car. He straightened up at her approach.
“These are for you,” Leah said. She held the basket out and gave him her very best smile. He took them, the startled expression on his face betraying his surprise. Leah turned back toward Steve. “It was so nice of you both to stop by. We get new produce all the time, so come back anytime.”
Her back as straight as one of Aenti Rachel’s dining room chairs, Leah turned and walked toward the farm stand. She didn’t stop until she was all the way inside.
I did it! she thought. She had showed those Englisch boys! She hadn’t let them make fun of her. She’d stood up for herself. Leah stepped behind the counter, turning just as she heard the car’s engine spring to life. It backed up quickly, spraying gravel. Then, with a squeal of tires, it roared off down the road.
“What do you think you’re doing?” an angry voice demanded.
Startled, Leah swung around. Eli was standing just behind her. In her eagerness to reach the safety of the inside of the building, Leah hadn’t noticed him.
“Waiting on a customer. What does it look like I’m doing?” she snapped.
“Honestly?” Eli asked, his tone challenging.
And I’m not afraid of you, either, Eli King, Leah thought. She lifted her chin, meeting his green eyes squarely.
“Yes, honestly.”
“It looks like you’re flirting with Englisch boys.”
Leah gasped. The way the Englisch boy had treated her had made her angry, but it was nothing compared to this.
“I don’t care what it looks like.”
“Well, you ought to,” Eli replied. “You don’t want to get a reputation.”
“A reputation!” Leah cried. “Now who’s sounding like a gross-mammi? You are not in charge of me, Eli King, so stop acting like you are. Stop acting like you know me when you don’t. You don’t know me at all.”
“Forget it,” Eli said in a tight, cold voice. “You don’t want to listen, fine. But don’t come crying to me when you find out everybody’s been talking behind your back. Don’t come crying to me when something goes wrong.”
“You bet I won’t,” Leah said. “You’re the last person on earth I’d turn to. And nothing’s going to go wrong.”
“Gracious, you two!” Miriam’s voice sliced across the argument. “I could hear you halfway down the drive from the house. What is the matter here?”
“Nothing,” Leah answered shortly. She met Eli’s eyes, daring him to contradict her. “Eli and I were just having a difference of opinion, that’s all. A small one.”
“Eli?” Miriam queried.
“It is as Leah says,” Eli replied. “We had a difference of opinion, but I think we both know where we stand now.”
We do indeed, Leah thought. As far away from each other as possible!
* * *
Where is everybody? Miriam wondered.
It was a hot, sticky evening in late July, and she stood at the kitchen counter, surveying the stack of supper dishes. Usually Sarah offered to help with the washing up, although Miriam steadfastly refused. She was unwilling to let Sarah help with any of the tasks that rightfully belonged to her, as Daniel’s wife. Tonight, however, not only had Sarah not offered, she was nowhere to be found!
I suppose this is what I get for always refusing her help, Miriam thought a little wryly as she moved to the sink. She turned on the hot water to fill the basin and heard a quick peal of laughter from outside.
That’s Sarah’s voice, she thought. She glanced out the kitchen window, but the stretch of yard that she
could see through the window was empty. Acting on impulse, Miriam shut off the water and headed for the living room. She pushed the screen door open and looked out. Sarah was nowhere in sight. But once again, Miriam heard the sound of her sister’s laughter, high and joyful and bright.
That’s coming from the direction of the barn, she thought. She stepped outside, moving in the direction of the sound. She had just rounded the corner of the house when she saw Sarah and Daniel coming toward the house.
They had their arms around each other.
Miriam’s heart began to thunder in her chest. Desperately, she tried to make sense of what was right before her eyes. Sarah had one shoe off. One of those ridiculous platform sandals that had garnered so much attention the first time she’d worn them. Miriam could see it, dangling from her sister’s outstretched fingers. The shoe was covered in muck. But with her other hand, Sarah was holding on to Daniel for support, one arm looped around his neck. Daniel had a supporting arm around Sarah’s waist. Their bodies were close together, bumping together every time they took a step.
“Daniel,” Sarah protested, and even from a distance Miriam could hear the laughter in her sister’s voice. “You’re going too fast. Slow down!”
“It’s you who should hurry up,” Daniel replied, his tone both amused and exasperated. “The sooner we get back to the house, the sooner you can get cleaned up. Though I do not understand why you want to wear such ridiculous footwear in the first place.”
“Because . . .” Sarah began.
She waved the shoe she was carrying for emphasis. Muck from the bottom of the shoe went flying. Daniel jerked back, threatening to tug them both off balance. Sarah tightened her hold, pulling him back toward her even as she laughed once more. And suddenly, incredibly, Daniel began to laugh as well. Miriam’s quiet and reserved husband was walking across their yard with his arm around her sister, laughing.
Like a love-struck schoolboy, Miriam thought. Pain, clean and swift as the stroke of a knife, sliced through Miriam’s heart.
“Oh, Miriam.” As if from a great distance, Miriam heard her sister’s voice. At the sound of Miriam’s name, Daniel’s head swiveled in her direction. His arm dropped away from Sarah. He took a single step back and, this time, Sarah released her hold. She and Daniel were separate once more. But Miriam knew that she would see the image from this evening forever. It had been burned into her mind, into her heart. And at that moment, Miriam was seized by a desire so powerful her body quivered with it.
I must not let them know.
Neither Daniel nor Sarah must ever know the pain this moment had brought to Miriam, this moment that was the living confirmation of all her fears and the death of all her hopes. She had kept her fears a secret, kept them to herself for all these years. Surely she was strong enough to keep them locked inside her now.
She smiled.
“Looks like you’re having some trouble,” she said. And at the sound of her own voice, so bright and natural, Miriam felt a quick surge of relief. She clung to it, the life raft that would save her from slipping beneath the deep water of her pain.
“I know. Can you believe it?” Sarah said, precisely as if there was nothing wrong at all. Nothing unusual about walking across the yard with her arms around her sister’s husband. “I went out to the barn to see the horses and I just wasn’t thinking and I . . .” She made as if to wave the shoe once more.
“Sarah,” Daniel said in a low voice.
Sarah turned to look at Daniel. For the first time, she seemed to realize that he was no longer right by her side. She took in his sober, almost frowning expression.
“What?” she said. Her glance went from Miriam to Daniel and back again, as if finally taking in the fact that Miriam was smiling but Daniel was not. “What’s happened?” she asked. “Is something wrong?”
“Of course not,” Miriam answered quickly. Too quickly, she thought. But suddenly it seemed to her she could not bear to hear what Daniel would answer. Could not bear to know whether or not he could answer. Did he, too, think that there was nothing wrong? Nothing wrong with walking across the yard with his arms around Sarah when the only time he touched Miriam was in their bedroom at night.
“I came out because I thought I heard a mockingbird singing,” Miriam lied. But she had always loved mockingbirds, and both her husband and her sister knew that. Now she wondered if it was because the mockingbird was so skilled at disguising its true nature, a skill she was becoming quite practiced at. Miriam had never thought of herself as a dishonest person, but here she was, lying to two of the people she loved best.
She tilted her head toward the house. “I’d better get back and get the supper dishes taken care of. I can bring you some rags for those shoes, if you like.”
“That’s all right,” Sarah said. “It’s my mess. I can clean it up myself. After that, I’ll come help with the washing up.”
No! Miriam wanted to cry out. It seemed to her that her whole body ached suddenly with the need to shout. To tell Sarah, once and for all, that she did not need her help. Miriam might have lost Daniel, but she still had this much. She could care for her own home.
And still Daniel said nothing. Did nothing. No. That was not quite right, Miriam thought. He had taken Sarah’s arm. He had spoken Sarah’s name. Sarah’s, not Miriam’s. He had not spoken the name of his wife. He had taken a step away from Sarah, but not one single step toward Miriam. Instead, Daniel had simply continued to stand, arms hanging loosely by his sides, in the middle of the yard.
“You don’t have to do that,” she said with a brittle laugh, so different from Sarah’s open and spontaneous one. “I can manage on my own. You should stay outdoors. It really is a lovely night. There won’t be many like this while you’re here.”
And soon, Miriam thought as she turned away, soon you will be gone. Back to San Francisco. Back where you belong.
What life would be like then, Miriam simply could not bear to contemplate. Her back ramrod straight, she crossed the yard and went back inside the house.
Nine
The days that followed were some of the most beautiful Miriam could ever remember. Summer was in full swing now with July rolling to a close. The days were lush and warm. Miriam could see summer’s promise being fulfilled in every direction. Corn stood high in the fields, the tall green stalks swaying with the breeze, their tasseled heads glinting in the sunshine. New-mown hay ripened in fat, round rolls. The rosebushes Miriam grew for the hips they would create in the autumn were a fluttering mass of pink and white blossoms as they formed one long border of her kitchen garden. The scent of the flowers was so potent, Miriam could smell it even when she was indoors.
And as for the farm stand, it bustled. That was really the only way to describe it, Miriam thought as she threw open the front doors. She had walked down to the stand earlier than usual this morning, eager to have a few moments alone. Were there more tourists than usual on the road this year? Were the harvests particularly fine so that everyone had more to bring her than usual? Or were her friends and neighbors taking extra care to support the Stony Field Farm Stand now that Miriam’s father was gone? Miriam genuinely did not know. All she knew was that, between running the farm stand and running the house, Miriam was busy from morning ’til night.
She had never in her life been so grateful for hard work. There were days when it seemed to Miriam that the tasks that made up her day-to-day life were the only things she truly understood anymore. The only moments when she felt she knew the way the world worked, when she could clearly see her own place in it, when she understood who she herself was.
Miriam knew how to iron her kapps so that the pleats stayed stiff and neat. She knew just how long the bread should rise. She knew so many different ways to put up fruits, vegetables, and meats that she had long since ceased to count them all. In the days that had followed the encounter with Sarah and Daniel in the yard outside the barn
, Miriam immersed herself in the day-to-day tasks that kept her so busy. She had always found pleasure in even the simplest of them, but now it seemed to her that those tasks kept her safe as well.
They were her protection against the pain that seemed to dog her every step, overtaking her the moment she stopped moving, snatching at whatever peace of mind she had won. Her chores were her shield against the dizziness that would appear from out of nowhere, so sudden and powerful that Miriam would have to stop whatever she was doing and sit down.
Never had she felt as alone as she did in those moments, so weak, so unlike herself. The space between her and Daniel yawned in front of her, so wide and deep that it seemed to Miriam that she could no longer see Daniel across it. Those moments were the very worst of all. For in them, Miriam felt a new fear, one that seemed determined to break her already fractured heart: that the time for understanding between her and Daniel was gone forever. It was irretrievably lost.
Sometimes, in the evenings, Miriam would lift her head from whatever she was doing to find Daniel’s gaze upon her, his expression unreadable. But even in the moments they had alone—at the breakfast table in the early morning, in their room at night—not once had Daniel spoken. Did this mean that he had nothing to say to her? Miriam wondered. Or was it just the opposite? Did he want to say too much?
And always, always, there was Sarah. Even when she wasn’t in the room, it seemed to Miriam that her sister was present, hovering like a shadow at Daniel’s side. Though Sarah spending time with Daniel was hardly a trick of Miriam’s imagination. She saw them together often enough. There were days when it seemed to Miriam that she saw Sarah and Daniel together every time she turned around.
She would look up from preparing dinner to see Sarah and Daniel coming across the fields together, as if Sarah had finished up her own work at the farm stand and then gone to meet Daniel for the express purpose of walking him home. In the evenings after supper, they often worked a jigsaw puzzle, their heads close together as they bent to study the shapes of the pieces. One night, Daniel fetched a pencil and paper, and he and Sarah worked all evening on a design for an arbor she was hoping her young gardeners might build after her return to San Francisco.
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