Miriam’s face flushed. Just thinking about how the obstinate man had sneaked up on her with his camera and how he had taken a picture with her hair uncovered and hanging down her back made her feel almost giddy. Now wouldn’t that have made a fine photo for the Daily Express?
What was there about Nick that made her feel these unexplained emotions? She had only seen him on three occasions, and each time he had succeeded in making her angry, but he’d also made her smile.
William had been the only man with whom Miriam had ever shared her deepest thoughts and dreams, and when he left her for another woman, she had vowed never to get close to another man again. While she wasn’t exactly close to Nick, for some reason she had let her guard down. Was it simply because he seemed easy to talk to, or was it because Nick was an outsider and she knew there was no threat of a possible commitment?
Miriam’s thoughts were interrupted when a deep voice called her name. She looked over her shoulder and saw Amos heading toward the stream with a plate of food in his hand.
I
“I thought you might like something to eat,” Amos said when he reached the spot where she sat near the stream.
She held up her half-eaten plate of food. “I haven’t finished this.”
Feeling more than a little self-conscious, Amos took a seat on the grass beside her. “I already had one helping, but I suppose I could eat another. All this tasty food sure does whet the appetite. I’m not the best cook, so I don’t enjoy my own meals so much.”
“Where’s Mary Ellen?” Miriam asked, making no reference to his cooking. Was he hinting that he needed a wife to cook for him—maybe her, in fact?
“My daughter is playing little mudder to your twin nephews,” Amos answered. “Since she’s well occupied, I decided to sneak away and check up on you.”
“What makes you think I need checking up on?” Miriam’s tone was harsh.
“I. . .uh. . .know what it’s like to lose someone close to you, and I thought—well, I might have some words of comfort to offer.” Hesitantly, he touched Miriam’s shoulder, wishing he didn’t feel so tongue-tied whenever he was with her. “I—I’m sorry about your daed. He will be missed by everyone in our community, but I’m sure he will be missed by his family even more. Henry was a good man.”
Miriam stood, brushing away the pieces of grass that clung to her dress. “I should be getting back to the house. Mom may need me for something.” She offered him a quick nod. “Danki for your kindness, but I’m going to be fine. Life is full of hardships and pain, but each of us has the power within to rise above our troubles and take control.”
“The power within is God,” he reminded.
“It’s up to me to help my family get through this time of loss.”
“That’s fine, but—but what about you? Who will help you in the days ahead?”
“I’ll help myself.” Miriam pivoted on her heels and darted away.
“When you need me, I will come,” Amos whispered.
I
As Nick left the dentist’s office, where he’d gone for a checkup, he spotted a young Amish woman across the street. From this vantage point, she looked a lot like Miriam Stoltzfus.
The woman had just reached the crosswalk when she dropped her sack, tripped over a small red ball that had rolled out, and landed hard on the concrete.
Nick hurried across the street, barely taking the time to look for oncoming cars, and rushed to her side. “Miriam? Are you okay?”
The woman looked up at him, and her cheeks turned pink. “I–I’m not hurt, just skinned my knees a bit. And my name’s not Miriam.”
Nick was glad the woman hadn’t been seriously injured, but he felt a keen sense of disappointment that she wasn’t Miriam. He helped her to her feet and then bent down to retrieve the ball and a couple of books that had bounced onto the sidewalk when the sack slipped from her arms.
“I appreciate your help,” she said, smoothing her dress and righting the small white cap perched on her head.
Nick handed her the paper sack with the items back inside. “I’m Nick McCormick, and I make it my duty to rescue fair ladies in distress,” he said with a smile.
“It’s nice to meet you. My name’s Katie Yoder.”
“Do you live around here?” Since the woman was willing to talk to him, Nick thought she might be agreeable enough to answer a few questions—in case he was ever asked to do another story on the Amish.
She shook her head. “I live in Mifflin County, north of here.”
“Guess you must have hired a driver to bring you to Lancaster, huh?”
She nodded. “My brother lives not far from here, and since today’s his son’s birthday, I wanted to buy something to give the boy before I headed over to their place.”
“Say, I’ve got an idea,” Nick said. “Why don’t we go have a cup of coffee someplace?”
Katie’s dark eyes became huge, and the color in her face darkened. “I—I couldn’t do that. I’m betrothed.”
“You mean you’re engaged to be married?”
She nodded. “Jah, in November.”
His forehead wrinkled. “It’s not like I’m asking for a date or anything. Just thought we could have a cup of coffee and talk awhile.”
“I—I really can’t. My driver’s supposed to meet me on the next block, and I need to be on my way.”
“I could drive you to your brother’s house. That would give us time to talk.”
“What did you want to talk about?”
“I’m a reporter for the Daily Express, and I—”
“You—you want to interview me?” Her voice raised a notch, and she blinked her lashes in rapid succession.
“Interviewing is what reporters do best.”
She pursed her lips and stared up at him as though he’d said something horrible. “I have no interest in being interviewed for the English newspaper. Besides, my driver is waiting for me, and I wouldn’t feel right about having coffee with you even if you weren’t a reporter.”
Wow! This little gal was as feisty as Miriam, although now that Nick had seen her up close, he realized she wasn’t nearly as beautiful. Maybe Amish women weren’t as passive as he’d thought them to be.
“Thanks for helping me, but I really must be going.” Clasping the paper sack to her chest, Katie started walking at a brisk pace.
Nick was tempted to tag along but decided against it, figuring she might create a scene if he followed. So he sauntered back across the street where his car was parked as thoughts of Miriam filled his head. Something about her fascinated him. As strange as it might seem, he knew that if he were given the chance to pursue a relationship with her, he might just take it.
I
“How come we don’t go over to Teacher Mim’s house for supper no more?” Mary Ellen asked as Amos placed a sandwich on the table in front of her.
Amos didn’t know quite how to respond. A few weeks ago Anna had invited him and Mary Ellen to join them for supper again, but he’d declined because he’d decided not to push so hard where Miriam was concerned. That meant not seeing her any more than necessary. Maybe if he gave her some time, she would see that he wasn’t trying to force her into a relationship and might even come to him on her own.
“Pappy, did ya hear what I said?” Mary Ellen persisted.
He pulled out a chair and sat down beside her. “I’ve been real busy in my shop these last few weeks, and it’s been easier just to eat at home.”
“But I miss Teacher Mim.”
“How can you miss her when you see her every day at school?”
“I just do, that’s all.” Mary Ellen lifted her chin and stared up at him with a peculiar expression on her face. “You think she might wanna be my mamm someday?”
Amos cringed. He wanted that, too. Wanted it more than he cared to admit. But unless God wrought a miracle, he didn’t think it was likely that Teacher Mim would ever become his wife.
He patted Mary Ellen’s arm. “Let’s pray about i
t, shall we?”
She nodded eagerly. “I have been prayin’, Pappy.”
The routine of life went on, even for those in mourning. With Papa gone, Lewis had to work twice as hard to keep up with the farm chores. The alfalfa fields needed one final harvesting before winter set in, and even with the help of their Amish family members and neighbors, the work was difficult and time-consuming.
Mom, too, kept busier than ever, working tirelessly from sunrise to sunset. While it was true everyone had more work to do now that Papa was gone, Miriam suspected the main reason her mother stayed so busy was so she wouldn’t have to think about Papa so much and about how terribly she missed him. Often in the middle of the night, Miriam would be wakened by the sound of her mother crying. Her parents’ marriage had been a good one, and she figured Mom would probably never get over Papa’s untimely death.
If only there was some way to erase all the pain in one’s life, Miriam found herself thinking as she put the finishing touches on a baby quilt she planned to give Carolyn Zeeman, the mother of one of her students. God could wipe away all our tears if He wanted to. He has it in His power to keep bad things from happening.
“What’s wrong, Miriam? Did you stick your finger with the needle?” Mom asked, taking a seat in the other chair beside the quilting frame.
“No, I was just thinking.”
“Whatever you were thinking about must have been pretty painful, because that frown on your face spoke volumes.”
Miriam didn’t want to respond. It would be too hurtful to remind Mom that God seemed to have abandoned them and could have saved Papa’s life if He had wanted to. “It’s nothing,” she said, reaching for another spool of thread. “Nothing worth mentioning.”
I
Anna sat beside Miriam for several minutes, watching her slender fingers move in and out of the brightly colored material, as she sewed straight, even stitches. Finally, when Anna could bear the silence no longer, she reached out and touched her daughter’s arm. “Did you have a rough day at school? Have some of the kinner been saying unkind things about you again?”
Miriam shook her head, but Anna noticed the tears that had gathered in her eyes. “I–I’m just missing Papa tonight. That’s all.”
Anna swallowed around the lump in her throat. “I miss him, too. Guess I always will.”
“That’s understandable. You were married over thirty years.”
“Jah, and I have much to be thankful for in that regard.”
“What do you mean, Mom?”
“Your daed and I had a good marriage—one that was based on love not only for each other but for our heavenly Father, as well.”
Miriam’s gaze dropped to the floor, and she released a sigh. “Don’t you feel angry that God took Papa away? Don’t you want to shout at God for His unfairness?”
Anna gulped back a sob as she wrapped her arms around her daughter’s trembling shoulders. “Oh, Miriam, please don’t talk like that. Don’t you know your daed’s in a much better place, where there’s no more sickness or dying, no more tears or toiling under a blistering sun?” She closed her eyes as a vision of Henry standing tall and handsome on their wedding day came to mind. “I can only imagine what it’s like for him now, up there in heaven with Jesus. As much as I miss him, I take comfort in knowing he’s safe and secure in our Father’s arms. Why, if I know my Henry, he’s running all over those golden streets, happy as a meadowlark in spring.”
Miriam sat staring at the floor and breathing quick, shallow breaths like she couldn’t get enough air.
“Maybe it would help if you wrote down your feelings,” Anna suggested. “In the last article I wrote for The Budget, I expressed my deep hurt over the loss of your daed, and just writing it down helped to ease some of the pain.”
Miriam looked up and shook her head. “I tried keeping a journal after William left for Ohio, and where did that get me?”
Anna wasn’t sure what to say, so she closed her eyes and did the only thing she knew could help. She prayed that the Lord would release Miriam of her pain and help them all in the days ahead.
I
The fall harvest was finally complete, and everyone’s workload had lightened a bit. One afternoon in early November as Miriam dismissed her students at the end of the school day, she noticed that a storm seemed to be brewing. Angry-looking dark clouds hung over the school yard, and the wind whipped fiercely against the trees. Miriam figured a torrential rain was sure to follow, and she hoped everyone would make it home before the earth was drenched from above.
“I’ll give you a ride,” Miriam told her six-year-old niece.
“Okay.” Rebekah smiled and gave Miriam a hug. “Are you ready to go now?”
“In a few minutes. I need to get the blackboard cleaned and gather up a few things before I leave. Then I’ll head out to the corral and get my horse hitched to the buggy.”
“Is it okay if I wait for you outside?” the child asked.
“Jah, but you’d better wait in the buggy because the clouds look like they’re about to burst wide open.”
Rebekah darted out the schoolhouse door. “I will,” she called over her shoulder.
Miriam hurriedly erased the blackboard and was about to write the next day’s assignment, when a clap of thunder rent the air, causing the schoolhouse to vibrate. It was followed by a loud snap and then a shrill scream that sent shivers spiraling up Miriam’s spine.
She rushed to the door, and a sob caught in her throat when she saw Rebekah lying on the ground next to her buggy, pinned under a tree limb that lay across her back. “Oh, dear God,” Miriam cried with a muffled groan. “Please let her be all right.”
Rebekah was unconscious when Miriam got to her. A gash on her head was bleeding some, but Miriam couldn’t tell the full extent of her niece’s injuries. She felt Rebekah’s wrist for a pulse and was relieved when she found one, but the tree limb was heavy, and she couldn’t lift it off the little girl’s back.
She looked around the school yard, feeling helpless and alone. All the other children had already gone home. She knew Rebekah must be taken to the hospital, but she couldn’t do that until the limb had been removed. There was a farm down the road, owned by an English couple, but if she went there to phone for help, she would have to leave Rebekah alone.
Miriam seldom found herself wishing for modern conveniences, but at the moment, she would have given anything if there had been a telephone inside the schoolhouse. “Oh, Lord, what should I do?” she prayed, as she wrapped a piece of cloth she’d torn from her apron around Rebekah’s head. “I don’t ask this for myself but for the dear, sweet child who lies at my feet. Please send someone now, or I must leave her alone and go for help.”
Miriam heard the clip-clop of a horse’s hooves and knew a buggy must be approaching. As soon as it entered the school yard, she realized it was Amos Hilty, who’d probably come to pick up his daughter because of the approaching storm.
“Oh, Amos, Mary Ellen has already gone home, and—and. . .a tree limb fell on my niece.” Miriam pointed to the spot where Rebekah lay. “She’s alive but unconscious, and I can’t lift the limb off her back.” Her voice shook with emotion, and her breath came out in short, raspy gasps.
Amos hopped down from his buggy and hurried over to the child. In one quick movement, he lifted the limb and tossed it aside. “Let’s put Rebekah in my buggy, and we’ll take her to the Andersons’ place so we can call for help,” he suggested.
“I don’t think she should be moved. What if something’s broken? What if—” Miriam choked on a sob, and she felt as if there was no strength left in her legs.
“You wait here then, and I’ll make the call for help.”
Miriam nodded. “Please hurry, Amos. She hasn’t opened her eyes, and I think she might be seriously injured.”
“I’ll go as quickly as I can.”
As Amos sped out of the school yard, Miriam feared his horse might trip and fall. Please let Rebekah be all right, Lord, she f
ervently prayed.
For the next twenty minutes, Miriam stood over Rebekah, praying that she would live and that Amos would return with help before it was too late. It seemed like hours until she finally heard the ambulance’s siren, and she breathed a sigh of relief. The wind continued to howl, but the rain held off until Rebekah had been strapped to a hard, straight board and placed into the back of the ambulance.
“I need to go to the hospital with her,” Miriam told Amos, who had returned to the schoolhouse to offer further assistance. “But someone needs to notify Andrew and Sarah.”
“You ride along in the ambulance, and I’ll go over to your brother’s place and tell them what’s happened to their daughter before I head for home.”
“My buggy. What about my horse and buggy?”
“I’ll see that they get safely home for you.” Amos touched her arm. “Try not to worry, Miriam. Just pray.”
Miriam nodded and numbly climbed into the ambulance. As the vehicle pulled out of the school yard with its siren blaring, she looked out the back window and saw Amos climbing into his buggy. “I never even told him thank you,” she murmured.
I
After numerous tests had been run on Rebekah, the doctor’s reports were finally given, but the news wasn’t good. Rebekah had a concussion and a bad gash on the back of her head where the tree limb had hit. However, the worst news of all was that her spinal cord had been injured, and if the child lived, she would probably never walk again.
Miriam clamped her lips together to keep from screaming, and Sarah sobbed. Andrew wrapped his arms around Sarah as tears coursed down his sunburned cheeks.
A Merry Heart Page 9