A Merry Heart

by Wanda E. Brunstetter

  When that was done, the bishop made a few closing comments and asked the congregation to kneel, at which time he read a prayer from the prayer book. Then the congregation rose to their feet, and the meeting was closed with a final hymn.

  Miriam clenched her fingers as she blinked against stinging tears. It was done. There was no going back. She was now Amos’s Miriam and would remain so until the day they were separated by death.

  I

  As several men began to set up tables for the wedding meal, Amos stole a glance at Miriam’s three brothers, who stood off to one side, talking and laughing like this was a most joyous occasion.

  And it should be, Amos thought painfully as he reflected on the somber expression he’d seen on his bride’s face as they had each responded to the bishop’s questions during their wedding vows. For many years before Amos had married Ruth, he had wished that Miriam could be his wife. Now that it had finally happened, it seemed bittersweet, for he knew she had only married him because of Mary Ellen’s need for a mother, not because she felt any love for him.

  Amos clenched his fingers until his nails bit into the palms of his hands. Dear Lord, what have I done? I’ve married a woman who will never fully be my wife. I’ve given my word that I won’t put any physical demands on her, and since we won’t have an intimate relationship, we’ll never have any kinner of our own. Miriam doesn’t love me, and short of a miracle, she probably never will.

  Miriam had only been living in Amos’s house a few days, and already he wondered if he had made the biggest mistake of his life. Since today was an off-Sunday and there would be no preaching services, he hoped they could use this time together to discuss a few things concerning their marriage.

  Mary Ellen, who was playing on the kitchen floor with her kitten, looked up at Miriam and smiled. “I’m glad you’ve come to live with Pappy and me. Can I call you Mama Mim from now on?”

  Miriam smiled at the child. “If you like.”

  Amos’s chair scraped against the linoleum as he pushed it away from the table and stood. He went over to the stove and removed the coffeepot, deciding that now might be a good time to say what was on his mind. “Mary Ellen, would you please go upstairs and play for a while?”

  “Can I play outside on the porch instead?”

  “Jah.”

  Mary Ellen looked at him with questioning eyes. “You and Mama Mim want to be alone, don’t you, Pappy?”

  If only that were true. I’m sure the last thing Miriam wants is to be alone with me.

  “Miriam and I need to talk,” he said, nodding at the child. “If the rain stops, maybe we’ll go for a picnic at the lake later on.”

  “Really, Pappy? I love picnics!” Mary Ellen scooped the fluffy kitten into her arms and headed for the back door.

  “Don’t forget your jacket,” Miriam called to her. “Since it’s still raining, be sure you stay on the porch.”

  Mary Ellen grabbed her jacket from a low-hanging wall peg and bounded out the door.

  “Do you think it was a good idea to get her excited about a picnic when it may not stop raining?” Miriam asked, turning to look at Amos with a frown.

  “We’ll see how it goes,” he mumbled as he placed the coffeepot on the table.

  She stood. “Well, I have dishes to do.”

  “Please, stay seated awhile. We need to discuss a few things.”

  She gave him a brief nod and sat down.

  Amos poured coffee for them both and took the chair across from her. “I–I’m not sure what you believe about our marriage, but I want you to know that I. . .well, I think God brought us together.” He wanted desperately to reach out and caress Miriam’s cheek. Instead, he grabbed hold of the coffee mug and took a sip.

  She opened her mouth as if to respond, but he held up one hand to silence her, knowing he needed to get this said while he had the chance and before he lost his nerve.

  “I also think God will bless our marriage if we’re faithful to Him and to one another.”

  “I’ll be faithful to our vows, Amos. Divorce will never be an option for me.”

  “Nor for me.” He took another sip from his cup as he searched for the right words. “I know we have many adjustments to make, and some of them might take some getting used to on both our parts.”

  Miriam blew on her coffee. “You’re right about that.”

  “As I’m sure you know, the Bible teaches us in Ephesians 5:23 that the man is to be the head of the house, just as Christ is the head of the church.” Amos paused to gauge her reaction, but she just stared at the table. “So, while I may want to consult with you on certain matters,” he continued, “I believe that the final decisions should always be made by me.”

  Miriam looked up and stared at him with her forehead wrinkled and her lips compressed. After a moment, she asked, “Are you saying that I must do whatever you tell me to do?”

  “No, it’s just that I need to know that you respect my opinion, and I—I have a need to—to be able to touch you, Miriam.” Amos tentatively reached for her hand, but she quickly pulled it away as soon as his fingers made contact with her skin, as though repulsed by his touch.

  “You—you promised our marriage wouldn’t have to be a physical one. Are you going back on your word now, Amos?”

  “No. No, I’m not.” He pushed away from the table and began pacing the floor, wishing he could somehow ask or even insist that she be his wife in every respect, knowing that he couldn’t. “I will keep true to my word, Miriam. We’ll continue to sleep in separate rooms just as we’ve done since our wedding night.”

  “I—I appreciate that,” she murmured, staring down at the table again.

  Amos cringed as he reflected on their wedding night. It certainly hadn’t gone the way he would have liked, but a promise was a promise, and he wouldn’t go back on it no matter how much he wanted to make Miriam his wife in every sense of the word. He knew that if he was ever to win her heart, he would have to remain honest and trustworthy. And he must remember never to try to touch her again unless she let him know first that it was what she wanted.

  I

  Miriam sat silently as Amos paced back and forth across the kitchen floor, his face red and his breathing heavy. “Was there anything else you wanted to talk to me about?”

  He gave a quick nod and returned to the table. “Jah. I have some things to say about Mary Ellen.”

  “What about her?”

  “I would appreciate it if you didn’t mother my daughter so much.”

  “What? I thought that’s why you agreed to marry me—so she would have a mudder.”

  Amos pulled his fingers through the end of his beard. “I’m not saying you shouldn’t be like a mother to her. I just don’t think she needs smothering.”

  “Smothering? How am I smothering the child?”

  “Making her put on a jacket when it’s warm outside and reminding her to stay on the porch.”

  “But it’s raining, Amos. Surely you don’t want your daughter to be outside playing in the rain.”

  He took a long drink from his cup. “I played in the rain a lot when I was boy, and it never did me any harm.”

  Miriam clasped her fingers tightly around her mug to keep them from shaking. She could hardly believe they were having this conversation. “I’m only concerned for her well-being. It may still be summer, but it’s kind of nippy outside this morning.”

  “If I thought my daughter needed to put on her jacket or stay on the porch, don’t you think I would have said something?”

  She pursed her lips. “Maybe so. Maybe not.”

  He gave his beard a quick pull. “I–I’m sorry if I upset you. It’s just that I’ve been Mary Ellen’s only parent for a year now, and—”

  “If you didn’t think Mary Ellen needed a woman’s care, then why did you marry me?”

  “Because I—” Amos broke off in mid-sentence, pushed his chair aside, and stood. He tromped across the room, snatched his straw hat from the wall peg, and w
ent out the back door, letting it slam shut.

  Miriam’s throat constricted, and a tight sob threatened to escape her lips. In an effort to regain control of her emotions, she dropped her head into her hands and squeezed her eyes shut. Being married is nothing like I imagined it would be when I thought William was going to marry me.

  So far nothing had gone right—from the wedding ceremony, where she had made promises she wasn’t sure she could keep, to their wedding night, when she had slept alone in the room next to Amos’s.

  After tucking Mary Ellen into her own bed that evening, Miriam had slipped quietly into the bedroom across the hall. For some time after she’d crawled into bed, she had heard Amos moving about in his own room next door. She had lain awake for most of the night, worrying that he might change his mind and come to her room, and wondering if she’d made the biggest mistake of her life by agreeing to marry him.

  She was grateful Amos had been true to his word on their wedding night, but when he had reached for her hand a few minutes ago and said he wanted her touch, she’d become full of new doubts about whether he could be trusted.

  She lifted her head and blinked a couple of times to chase away the tears in her eyes. “I will get through this. I’ll reach deep inside myself and find the courage to face each new day. And despite what Amos says or thinks, I do know what’s best for Mary Ellen.”

  I

  A routine was quickly established at the Hilty home, and even though Miriam found herself adapting to it, she didn’t think she would ever adjust to being Amos’s wife. Her heart longed for something more than wifely chores to do, but without love, a real husband-and-wife relationship was out of the question. Being a stepmother to Mary Ellen helped to fill a part of Miriam that seemed to be missing, but she knew it would never completely fill the void in her heart.

  She didn’t want to admit it, not even to herself, but she found Amos’s presence to be unnerving. It made her keenly aware of the emptiness in her life. In the past, she had managed to keep her life fairly uncomplicated because she’d forgotten what love felt like. But now she had the strange desire—a need really—to love and to be loved.

  Longing for love doesn’t bring love into one’s life, she told herself one evening as she washed the supper dishes. The best thing I can do is keep busy, and I’ve certainly been doing a good job of that since I came to live here. Her jaw clenched as she forced herself to concentrate on the task at hand.

  Soon after Miriam had put the last dish away, Amos picked up his Bible to read as he had done every night since they had married. At first, she’d been irritated by the practice, since she had long ago given up reading her Bible every day. But now she was able to tolerate the ritual he’d established. It was a time when the three of them sat around the kitchen table, reading God’s Word as a family. Mary Ellen usually had questions, and Amos seemed to take pleasure in being able to interpret the scriptures for her.

  “Tonight I’ll be reading in Proverbs,” Amos said as he opened the Bible. “‘Whoso findeth a wife findeth a good thing, and obtaineth favour of the Lord.’” He looked up and smiled. “That was chapter 18, verse 22.”

  Does he think I’m stupid? Miriam fumed. I may not have the kind of faith Amos has, but I’m well acquainted with the Bible.

  Mary Ellen gave her father’s shirtsleeve a little tug. “Mama Mim’s a good wife, isn’t she, Pappy?”

  “Jah, she is.” Amos glanced over at Miriam and smiled.

  His piercing gaze made her feel uncomfortable, and she looked away, hoping he hadn’t seen the blush she was sure had come to her cheeks.

  “Is there more in the Bible about Mama Mim?” Mary Ellen questioned.

  “Let’s see,” Amos thumbed through the pages. “Here in Proverbs 31, verse 27, it says, ‘She looketh well to the ways of her household, and eateth not the bread of idleness.’ ”

  The child gasped. “Pappy, do you mean that Mama Mim isn’t supposed to eat any bread? Won’t she get awfully hungry?”

  Amos laughed, and Miriam did, too. It felt good to laugh. It was something she did so seldom.

  Mary Ellen stared up at her father, her hazel eyes wide and expectant. Amos patted the top of her head. “The verse isn’t talking about real bread, Mary Ellen. The bread of idleness refers to someone who’s lazy and doesn’t want to work.”

  Mary Ellen’s forehead wrinkled as she frowned. “But Mama Mim’s busy all the time. She ain’t one bit lazy.”

  “Isn’t, Mary Ellen,” Miriam corrected. She glanced at Amos, hoping she hadn’t overstepped her bounds.

  To her surprise, Amos nodded and smiled. “You’re right, daughter. Your new mamm is a hard worker.” He pointed to the Bible. “The verse is saying that a good wife isn’t idle or lazy, and it’s speakin’ about someone like Mama Mim. She looks well to our house and takes good care of us. She doesn’t eat the bread of idleness, because she’s not lazy.”

  Mary Ellen grinned, revealing cute little dimples in both cheeks. “I’m so glad we have Mama Mim livin’ with us now.”

  Amos looked over at Miriam and smiled. “I’m glad, too.”

  Miriam’s face grew warm again, and she wasn’t sure how to respond. So she merely nodded and said, “I made some pumpkin pie today. Would anyone like a piece?”

  “I do! I do!” Mary Ellen shouted.

  Amos nodded. “Jah, that sounds real good.”

  Miriam looked at the kitchen clock on the wall above her head. It was one thirty in the afternoon, and Mary Ellen wouldn’t be home from school for a few hours yet. Amos was out in his blacksmith shop, and since he’d taken his lunch with him today, Miriam had been alone all morning. She found that no matter how busy she kept, the loneliness and sense of longing that had crept into her heart never went away. The longer she lived under Amos’s roof, the more those emotions intensified.

  A knock at the back door brought her thoughts to a halt. Surely it couldn’t be Amos. He wouldn’t knock on his own door.

  The door creaked as Miriam opened it, and a ray of sun bathed the room with its pale light. She was surprised to see her mother on the porch, holding a basket draped with a cloth. “What a surprise! I didn’t hear your buggy drive in, Mom.”

  “I left it parked in front of Amos’s shop while he shoes my horse.”

  “Ah, I see.” Miriam motioned to the table. “Have a seat, and let’s visit awhile.”

  Mom set the basket on the table, then removed her dark shawl and hung it over the back of a chair. “I brought you a loaf of oatmeal bread,” she said, lifting the cloth from the basket.

  “It looks good. Should I slice a few pieces? We can have some with a cup of tea.”

  “Jah, that’d be nice.”

  Miriam took the bread over to the cutting board. “How are things at Andrew and Sarah’s, and how did you manage to get away by yourself?” she asked as she sliced the bread and placed a few pieces on a plate.

  “Things are going along okay, and I was given the day off because baby Nadine had a checkup at the doctor’s today.”

  “Oh?”

  “Jah, and Andrew and Sarah decided to take all the kinner along and make some time for shopping and a meal out after Nadine’s appointment.”

  Miriam set the plate of bread on the table. “Didn’t they invite you to go with them?”

  “They did, but I turned them down because I thought they should have some time alone as a family without me tagging along. Besides, I needed to get my horse shoed, and I saw it as a good chance to come visit with you for a while.”

  Miriam smiled. It was nice to see her mother in the middle of the week. To be able to spend some time together over a cup of tea and some oatmeal bread made Miriam’s day seem less gloomy. She poured them each a cup of tea from the pot she’d placed on the table a few minutes before Mom had arrived and took a seat. “I’m glad you’re here. We don’t get to see each other much anymore now that I’m married.”

  “That’s true, but we didn’t see each other much before you were
married, either.”

  “There was a good reason for that,” Miriam said. “Between my job teaching school and all the work you were doing at Andrew’s place, we were both too busy to spend much time visiting.”

  Mom took a sip of tea. “I know how much you enjoyed teaching. Do you miss it now that you’re a hausfraa?”

  “I do miss it some,” Miriam admitted as tears stung the back of her eyes. “But I’m learning to adjust to the role of being a housewife and a mother.”

  “Speaking of being a mother,” Mom said, “I just found out yesterday that my sister Clara’s daughter Ada is going to have her first boppli later this fall. Ada’s due around the time of Lewis and Grace’s wedding in November.”

  “That’s nice,” Miriam said, trying to make her voice sound as excited as possible. “I’m happy for Cousin Ada and her husband, Sam.”

  “What about you, daughter? When do you think you and Amos will be starting your own family?”

  Miriam reached for a piece of bread and took a bite, wondering how to let her mother know that she would never have any children of her own. It was a touchy topic, to be sure. One Miriam would rather not talk about.

  “Miriam, did you hear what I said?”

  She nodded. “I—I already have a family. Mary Ellen’s a good child, and—”

  “I’m sure she is, but wouldn’t you like some kinner of your own?”

  Miriam’s eyes flooded with tears, and she quickly looked away so Mom wouldn’t notice. How could she explain that her heart longed for a baby but that having a child with Amos wasn’t possible because they didn’t share the same bed? And that no matter how badly she might want a boppli, it simply wasn’t meant to be.

  “You and Amos haven’t been married long, so there’s still plenty of time for you to conceive. You just need to be patient, because kinner will come in God’s time, not yours.”