“I think I’ll hire Gladys to drive me to the hospital tomorrow so I can see Rebekah again,” Miriam said, glancing at her mother, who sat across the table, reading her Bible. “Would you like to go along?”
Mom looked up and smiled. “I appreciate the offer, but I went this morning with Sarah. Barbara Nyce, the Mennonite woman she usually hires, took us there.”
Miriam frowned. “How come you didn’t mention it earlier? I would think you would have wanted to give us a report.”
“I did say something to Lewis about it when he came to the house at noon, but when you came home from school today, you said you had a headache and needed to lie down, so I didn’t mention it.”
“I see. How was Rebekah doing?”
“As well as can be expected. Her spirits are up, and that’s a good thing.”
Miriam released a heavy sigh. “How I wish the doctors had been wrong about her not being able to use her legs. It won’t be easy for that sweet little girl to spend the rest of her life confined to a wheelchair, relying on others to do everything for her.”
Mom clucked her tongue. “That’s not true. There are many things Rebekah can do while she’s sitting down.”
Miriam opened her mouth to comment, but her mother rushed on.
“The child has a determined spirit, and I don’t think she will let her handicap keep her from living life to the fullest.”
Miriam folded her arms and leaned on the table. “Thanks to me being foolish enough to let her go outside, she’ll only be living half a life.”
Mom shook her head and looked hard at Miriam. “I wish you would stop being so negative.”
“I’m not being negative; I’m just facing the truth.”
“The truth is you have a lot to learn about how God wants us to live, and unless you allow Him to fill your heart with joy and love, I’m afraid you’ll be living less of a life than my crippled granddaughter.”
Mom’s harsh words pricked Miriam’s heart, but she would not allow them to penetrate the wall of defense she had built around her wounded soul. She pushed the newspaper aside and stood. “I’m going upstairs to bed. It’s been a long day, and I’m awfully tired.”
I
Long after Miriam left the room, Anna stayed at the table, reading her Bible and praying. She knew only one answer for her daughter’s troubled spirit, and that was to open her heart to God’s unconditional love and allow Him to fill her life with His joy and peace.
“Is there any of that good-tasting gingerbread cake left?” Lewis asked as he stepped into the kitchen, rousing Anna from her time of prayer and meditation. “I wouldn’t mind a piece if there is.”
“I think that can be arranged.” Anna slid her chair back and stood. “Would you like a glass of milk or some tea to go with it?”
He smacked his lips. “Ice cold milk sounds good to me.”
“If you want ice cold, maybe you’d better take it outside,” she said with a chuckle. “The weather’s turned frigid this week, and I’m thinking that soon we’ll be having some snow.”
He took a seat at the table. “I believe you’re right about that.”
Anna placed a hunk of gingerbread and a tall glass of milk in front of Lewis; then she returned to her seat across from him.
“Aren’t you having any?” he asked around a mouthful of cake. “This is sure tasty.”
She shook her head. “I’m still full from supper, and I had a big lunch today after Sarah and I went to see Rebekah.”
“You think she’ll be goin’ home soon?”
“I don’t know. Her therapy sessions are going well, so maybe it won’t be too long before the doctor says she’s ready to leave the hospital.”
“It’s a good thing Miriam’s been giving her a few lessons while she’s there.” Lewis took a swallow of milk. “Otherwise Rebekah would be way behind when she returned to school.”
Anna drummed her fingers along the edge of the table. “It might be some time before Rebekah’s up to going back to school. Even with Miriam giving her lessons to do at home, she’s likely to have a lot of makeup to do.”
“You think she may be held back and have to do this year over again?”
“Might could be.”
Lewis reached for a napkin and wiped a spot on his chin where some crumbs had accumulated. “I remember when I entered eighth grade and knew I’d be graduating that year. I wanted to be held back a year and even tried to fail just so Katherine Yoder wouldn’t graduate me.”
Anna’s forehead wrinkled. “This is the first I’ve heard of that. Why would you have wanted to fail?”
His ears turned pink, and he stared at his empty plate. “You want the truth?”
“Of course.”
“As you know, Grace Zepp is a year younger than me, and since I’d be leaving school after eighth grade and she still had another year, I didn’t want to graduate yet.”
“Ah, I see. You cared for Grace even back then?”
He nodded. “Of course, she made me see reason when I told her my plan to flunk all my tests that year so I wouldn’t have to graduate.”
“What did Grace say?”
“She reminded me that the sooner I learned a trade, the sooner I’d be ready to marry and begin a family.” The color that permeated Lewis’s ears spread quickly to the rest of his face. “I think I’m almost ready for that, Mom.”
She smiled and reached across the table to touch his hand. “I think so, too.”
I
Whenever Miriam went to the hospital to visit Rebekah, she always took a book to read, as well as some of the child’s favorite licorice candy. Today was one of those days, but Miriam found herself dreading the visit. Would she ever stop feeling guilty whenever she looked at the sweet young child lying so helpless in her bed? Maybe Rebekah would be asleep when she arrived, and then she could leave the treat and book on the table by her bed and retreat to the protection and solitude of home.
As Gladys pulled her van into the hospital parking lot, Miriam thanked her. “I’ll be ready to head for home in about an hour.”
“That’s fine,” Gladys replied. “I’ll run a few errands and meet you here at five o’clock.”
“All right.” As Miriam stepped out of the car, it started to rain, so she hurried toward the hospital’s main entrance. Just as she was about to step inside, she collided with a man. When she looked up, she found herself staring into the familiar blue eyes of Nick McCormick. She trembled, fighting the urge to pound her fists against his chest.
Nick smiled, apparently unaware of her irritation. “Miriam, it’s good to see you again. As usual, you look a bit flustered, but beautiful, nonetheless. Is there something I can do to help?”
Miriam clasped her hands tightly behind her back, trying to maintain control of herself. She had never been so close to striking anyone. Strangely, Nick seemed to bring out the worst in her, yet he also brought out the best.
“I have no patience with a liar,” she mumbled.
“Excuse me?”
She lifted her chin and met his piercing gaze. “I’m referring to the fact that you promised not to do a story about my niece but then went ahead and did it anyway. Your word meant absolutely nothing, did it?”
Nick reached up to scratch the back of his head while giving her a sheepish-looking grin. “Guess you caught me red-handed. When I wrote the article, I didn’t think about how some Amish probably read the Daily Express.”
“We’re not ignorant, you know.”
“I’m sure you’re not.”
“My people aren’t perfect and don’t claim to be, but we do strive for honesty, which is more than I can say for some.”
“My, my, aren’t you a feisty little thing today?” He chuckled. “I like spunky women—but I also like women who get their facts straight.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Fact number one: I never actually promised that I wouldn’t do a story about your niece.”
“But you said�
��”
“That I wouldn’t do any more note-taking while you were talking to me. I kept true to my word and put away my paper and pen.”
“But when you mentioned that you wanted to do an article about Rebekah’s accident and include something about the cost of her medical bills, I asked you not to, and I assumed you would abide by my wishes.”
He gave no reply, just staring at her in a most disconcerting way.
“And I certainly never thought you would sneak into her hospital room and take her picture,” Miriam added, putting emphasis on the word picture.
“I did what I thought best—as a reporter and as your friend.”
“What kind of friend goes behind someone’s back and does something so sneaky?”
“The kind who believes he’s doing the right thing.” Nick pulled Miriam into the little waiting area across the hall. “Fact number two: I really do care about you, and I believed I was doing something helpful for your family. I apologize if it upset you or if you thought I had betrayed you.” He sank into a chair. “If it makes you feel any better, I got a good chewing-out from my boss for including the picture I took of your niece, and that’s why I wrote the apology letter that went into the paper a few days later. Did you happen to read it?”
She shook her head.
“Well, it’s true. I didn’t want anyone to think I had done anything to intentionally step on the Plain People’s toes—especially not your pretty toes.”
Miriam’s anger receded some. It was hard to remain in control when she was in Nick’s presence. And when he looked at her with such a tender expression, she could barely think or breathe. Did she really need acceptance so badly that she would go outside her Amish faith to get it? Despite her desires, she couldn’t allow this man to deceive her into believing he actually cared for her.
“I need to go see my niece now,” she said, starting for the door. “I appreciate your apology, but I would ask that you not see Rebekah again.”
Nick stood and moved toward her, but before he could give a reply, she dashed from the room.
I
“That sure went well,” Nick muttered under his breath. “I wait all this time to see Miriam again, and then I can’t think of anything to say that might redeem myself and make her willing to spend time with me again.”
He groaned. If she knew why I’d come to the hospital today, she would really be mad. Maybe it’s good that she left the room before I ended up telling her where I just came from and how I bribed her niece into letting me take her picture again. He grabbed his camera bag, which he’d placed on a chair when they’d come into the room, and started for the door. I didn’t take any face-on shots of Rebekah this time, so at least I shouldn’t catch any flak from Pete for doing it.
As Nick left the waiting room, he glanced down the long corridor, hoping to catch a glimpse of Miriam. She was nowhere in sight. It’s probably just as well. After my next article comes out, she’ll probably never speak to me again.
I
When Miriam entered Rebekah’s room, she found the child propped up on pillows. So innocent, sweet, and helpless, she thought.
“Aunt Miriam!” Rebekah smiled and reached her small hand out to Miriam.
“How’s my best pupil and favorite niece today?” Miriam asked as she took the child’s hand in her own.
“Better. My head don’t hurt no more. Doctor said I can go home soon.”
Miriam cringed at the thought of Rebekah returning to her family as a cripple. Rebekah had never made mention of it, though. Was it possible that she wasn’t yet aware of the fact that she could no longer walk? How would the once-active child handle the probability of spending the rest of her days confined to a wheelchair?
“I’m glad you’re feeling better,” Miriam said, trying to make her voice sound light and cheerful.
“Did you bring me some licorice?” Rebekah asked with an expectant look.
“Jah, and another book to read for your English lessons, as well as a get-well card from your friend Mary Ellen.” Miriam handed the card and candy to Rebekah; then she seated herself in the chair next to the bed. “Would you like to look at Mary Ellen’s card before we start the lesson?”
Rebekah nodded and tore open the envelope. Her smile stretched ear to ear as she read the card:
Dear Rebekah,
I miss not seeing you at school. Pappy says I can come visit when you get home. I pray for you every night—that God will make you well.
Your friend,
Mary Ellen
Tears welled in Miriam’s eyes, and she blinked to keep them from spilling over. Rebekah was paralyzed and would never be whole again, so Mary Ellen’s prayers were wasted. But she wouldn’t tell Rebekah that; it would be too cruel.
“A man took my picture,” Rebekah surprised her by saying.
“I know, but that man will never bother you again.” It was then that Miriam noticed the teddy bear sitting on the table near Rebekah’s bed. She picked it up. “Where did you get this, Rebekah?”
“The man gave it to me.”
“When was that?”
“Awhile ago.”
“What man?”
“The picture man.”
Miriam’s head started to throb, and she pressed her hands against her temples, trying to halt the pain. So Nick must have just come from Rebekah’s room when she’d bumped into him at the hospital entrance. Had he come out of concern for the child? Was his gift one of genuine compassion, or had he used it to bribe Rebekah in order to take additional pictures? Now that Miriam thought about it, Nick had been carrying his camera bag when she’d first seen him, and he’d set it on a chair in the waiting room while they talked.
“Rebekah, did the man take more pictures of you today?”
The child nodded. “He gave me the bear, and then he asked me to turn my head to the wall, so’s he could use his camera without makin’ everyone mad.”
One month after Rebekah’s accident, the doctors released her from the hospital. She would still need to return for physical therapy twice a week, but at least her days and nights could be spent with family.
On Rebekah’s first day home, Mom suggested that she and Miriam ride over to see if they could help out. “Sarah’s certainly going to have her hands full now,” she said. “Just taking care of a boppli and two small kinner is a job in itself, but now this?”
“Since today’s Saturday and there’s no school, I have all day to help out.” Miriam pulled her jacket from the wall peg. “I’ll go out and feed the animals while you start breakfast. Then we can go.”
“Jah,” Mom agreed with a nod.
A blast of cold air greeted Miriam as she stepped onto the porch. It was early December, and a definite feeling of winter hung in the air. She shivered and pulled her collar up around her neck. “I hate winter!” The truth was, she was beginning to dislike all seasons. Perhaps it was life in general that she hated. Is it all right for a believer to feel hate toward anything—even the weather?
Another thought entered her mind. Maybe she wasn’t a believer anymore. Her faith in God had diminished so much over the last several months. She got very little from the biweekly preaching services she attended with her friends and family. She no longer did her daily devotions, and her prayers were few and far between. When she did pray, she offered more of a complaint to God rather than heartfelt prayers and petitions. Where was God anyway, and what had happened to her longing to seek His face?
Miriam trudged wearily toward the barn and forced her thoughts onto the tasks that lay before her.
On her way back to the house half an hour later, she noticed a clump of wild pansies growing near the fence that ran parallel to the pasture. Pansies were hardy flowers, blooming almost continuously from early spring until late fall. The delicate yellow and lavender blossoms made her think of Mary Ellen and the day she’d given her the bouquet of heartsease. Children like Rebekah and Mary Ellen are a lot like wild pansies, she thought. They’re small and delica
te, yet able to withstand so much.
Thoughts of Mary Ellen made Miriam think about Amos. She’d seen him only a few times since the day of Rebekah’s accident. Those times had been at preaching services. It seemed strange that he wasn’t coming around anymore. He hadn’t even come over for supper at Mom’s most recent invitation. Perhaps he’d been too busy with his blacksmith duties or taking care of Mary Ellen. Or maybe he’d finally come to realize that Miriam had no interest in him, so he’d given up on his pursuit of her. Regardless of the reason, Miriam was glad he wasn’t coming around anymore. The last thing she needed was an unwanted suitor. Her life was complicated enough.
She bent down and picked several of the colorful pansies. They would make a lovely bouquet to give Rebekah.
I
When they arrived at Sarah and Andrew’s place, Anna noticed Sarah sitting on the front porch, with her head bent and shoulders shaking. She quickly got down from the buggy and rushed to Sarah’s side, leaving Miriam to unhitch the horse. “What is it, Sarah? Why are you sitting out here in the cold?”
Sarah lifted her head. Tears coursed down her cheeks. “Oh, Anna, please remember me in your prayers.”
“Jah, I surely will,” Anna answered, taking a seat beside her daughter-in-law and reaching for her hand. “What has you so upset?”
“I’m happy to have Rebekah home again, but there isn’t enough of me to go around.” Sarah sniffed and dabbed at her eyes with the corner of her apron. “Simon’s into everything, the baby always seems to need me for something, and taking care of Rebekah will be a full-time job. She’s only been home half a day, and already I can’t seem to manage.”
“There, there,” Anna comforted. She slipped her arm around Sarah’s shoulders. “We’ll work something out.”
“Is there anything I can do to help?” Miriam asked as she joined the women on the porch.
Anna spoke before Sarah could reply. “Miriam, would you please go inside and check on the kinner while I speak to Sarah?”
A Merry Heart Page 12