Crystal took hold of Miriam’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Please think about what I’ve said. Why don’t you ask God to fill your heart with love toward the man you’ve chosen to be your husband? I feel certain that, with God’s help, things can work out between you and Amos.”
I
When Miriam left Crystal’s house a short time later and headed for the schoolhouse, her heart was full of questions. She knew her friend cared for her and wanted her to be happy, and she wondered if Crystal might possibly be right. Could she learn to love Amos? Was love a feeling that was simply there? Or was it a matter of choosing to love someone, as Crystal had said?
Miriam shook her confusing thoughts aside, knowing she needed to concentrate on the road ahead. The once-cloudless sky had darkened, and soon the heavens opened, dropping thick snowflakes that nearly blinded her vision.
She turned on the battery-operated windshield wipers and gripped the reins to hold the horse steady. She’d left Crystal’s later than she had planned, and she was worried that she might be late picking Mary Ellen up from school.
As the snow came down harder and stuck to the road, the wheels of the buggy started to spin. Miriam strained to see the road ahead and fought to keep her rig on the road. The battery-operated lights on the front of the buggy did little to light the way.
Miriam found herself wishing she hadn’t taken the time to stop and see Crystal. She would have been at the schoolhouse by now, and she wouldn’t have ended up telling her friend the truth about her and Amos. She was sure she could trust Crystal to keep the information she had shared to herself, but she didn’t want Crystal’s pity—and she wasn’t sure she wanted her advice, either.
The buggy lurched as it hit a patch of ice, jolting Miriam’s thoughts back to the task at hand. She shivered from the cold as well as from her fear of the near-blizzard-like conditions. Suddenly, the horse’s hooves slipped, and the buggy lunged to the right. Miriam pulled back on the reins, calling, “Whoa, now! Steady, boy!”
The gelding whinnied and reared its head, jerking against the reins and causing the buggy to sway back and forth. It was dangerously close to the centerline, and when Miriam saw the headlights of an oncoming car, she gave a sharp tug on the reins.
The horse reared up, and before Miriam could think what to do, the buggy flipped onto its side, skidded along the edge of the road, and finally came to a halt.
She strained to see out the front window. The horse must have broken free, for it was nowhere to be seen. She pushed unsuccessfully against the door on the driver’s side and winced in pain. Her side and shoulder hurt terribly, and she knew she must have a gash on her head. It not only stung, but she felt warm blood dripping down her face. She managed to rip a piece of her apron off and place it against her head to stop the bleeding.
In spite of Miriam’s predicament, her first concern was for Mary Ellen. She knew the child would be waiting for her at the schoolhouse and might be frightened. There must be some way to get out of here. Surely someone will see the buggy and stop to help. Oh, what about the horse? Is Amos’s gelding all right?
As Miriam’s head continued to throb, making her feel helpless and dizzy, she was overtaken by a sense of panic, and she swallowed several times to keep from vomiting. She, who had always been so determined to solve her own problems, was now trapped inside the buggy, unable to find an answer to her dilemma. “Oh, dear God!” she cried. “Please help me!”
She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to think of scripture verses she had committed to memory. “Second Timothy 1, verse 7,” she recited. “‘For God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind.’ Psalm 23, verse 4, ‘Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.’ Mark 4, verse 40, ‘And he said unto them, Why are ye so fearful? how is it that ye have no faith?’”
She drew in a deep breath and tried to calm down. Then a sudden sense of peace came over her like a gentle spring rain. She had been so far from God for such a long time, yet now she was keenly aware that she was not alone. She was confident that the Lord was with her now, and she had nothing to fear.
I
Amos glanced at the battery-operated clock sitting in the middle of his desk. It was four o’clock. Miriam and Mary Ellen should have been home by now.
He left the desk and moved to the window. It was snowing—large, heavy flakes swirling in the howling wind. Had she gotten stuck in the snow somewhere along the way? Had the buggy slipped on a patch of ice? Could she have been involved in an accident?
“If Miriam’s carriage doesn’t come into the yard in the next ten minutes, I’m going out to look for them.”
For the next ten minutes, Amos paced to the window, keeping an eye on the worsening weather, and then back to his desk, where the clock reminded him with every tick that his wife and daughter were still not at home. Finally, he grabbed his jacket and hat from the wall peg near the door and left the blacksmith shop, his heart pounding with dread. It was time to go looking.
I
“Miriam, can you hear me? Are you hurt?”
Miriam’s eyes snapped open, and she winced when she tried to sit up. Then she remembered that the buggy was tipped on its side. Had she been asleep? If so, for how long? Had someone called out to her?
The voice came again. “Miriam, please answer me!”
It was Amos, and he’d come to rescue her. Tears burned Miriam’s eyes as she turned her head to the left. “I’m here. I’m hurting, but I don’t think my injuries are serious.”
“The door is jammed shut, and I can’t get it open,” Amos hollered. “I’ll have to go for help. Can you hang on awhile longer?”
“I’ll be fine.”
“What was that?”
“I’ll be fine, Amos,” Miriam said, her voice all but gone. “I’m not alone any longer; God is with me.” Her eyes closed, and she drifted off.
I
“I love you, Miriam. I love you, Miriam. . . .” The resounding words ran through Miriam’s mind as she struggled to become fully awake and focus on her surroundings. Where was she? Why were her eyes so heavy? Who had whispered those words of love to her? Her head pounded unmercifully. Was she having another one of her sick headaches? She tried to sit up, but a terrible pain ripped through her side.
“You’d better lie still,” a woman’s soothing voice said.
Miriam squinted against the invading light as her eyes came open. “Where—where am I?”
The woman, dressed in a white uniform, placed a gentle hand on Miriam’s arm. “You’re in the hospital. You were brought here when your buggy turned over in the storm.”
Miriam frowned as the memory of the frightening ordeal rushed back to her. “I—I was so scared. The wind was howling, and the icy road must have spooked my horse. I knew I would be late picking up my daughter, and—”
Her daughter? Had she just referred to Mary Ellen as her daughter? Perhaps she was just a stepchild, but she was the only child Miriam would ever have, and she had come to love her as a daughter.
Miriam tried to sit up again. “Mary Ellen. Is my little girl all right?”
The nurse placed a firm but caring hand on Miriam’s shoulder. “Your daughter’s just fine. She and your husband are waiting in the visitor’s lounge, and they are anxious to see you. Your family must love you very much.”
The words “I love you” came back to Miriam. Maybe Mary Ellen had said them. But if that were so, then why had Mary Ellen called her “Miriam”and not “Mama Mim”?
Miriam remembered being trapped inside the buggy. She heard Amos call out to her and say that he was going for help. Maybe she’d fallen asleep and dreamed the endearing words about love. Her heart was so full of questions.
“How did I get here?” she asked the nurse.
“You were brought in an ambulance.”
“When can I go home?”
“Probab
ly in a day or so. You have a concussion, and the doctor wants to monitor you for a few days.”
Miriam moaned. “What other injuries do I have?”
“Some cuts and bruises, and a few of your ribs are broken. You’re fortunate, though. Your injuries could have been much worse in an accident of that sort.”
Miriam nodded. “I–I’d like to see my family now.”
“Of course. I’ll tell them you’re awake.” The nurse moved away from the bed and left the room.
Tears slipped between Miriam’s lashes and rolled onto her cheeks. She had referred to Amos and Mary Ellen as her family, but she reminded herself that Amos was her husband in name only.
The door opened, and Amos and Mary Ellen stepped into the room.
“Mama Mim!” Mary Ellen cried. “Are you all right?”
“I’ll be fine,” she answered as the child rushed to her bedside.
“You’re crying, Mama Mim. Does your head hurt bad?”
“A little.” Miriam couldn’t explain to Mary Ellen the real reason for her tears.
“We were awful worried; you gave us quite a scare,” Amos said in a serious tone as he drew near the bed.
Miriam studied his face. He did seem to be concerned.
“How—how did you find me?”
“I was a bit anxious when the snowstorm got so bad, and when you didn’t return home with Mary Ellen on schedule, I began to worry. So I hitched up my rig and started for the schoolhouse. On the way there, I came across your carriage lying on its side. I stopped to see if you were okay; then I went to call for help.”
“I do remember hearing your voice,” Miriam murmured. “I must have dozed off, because I don’t remember much after that.”
Mary Ellen’s chin trembled, and her eyes filled with tears. “I waited in the school yard for a long time. When you didn’t come, I got real scared.”
Miriam reached for the child’s hand. “I’m sorry you were frightened, Mary Ellen.”
Tears slid down the child’s cheek. “When Pappy sent Uncle Lewis to get me, he said you’d been in an accident. I thought you were gonna die and leave me like my first mamm did.” She gripped Miriam’s fingers. “Losin’ you would make me feel so sad.”
“I’m going to be fine,” Miriam murmured. “Jah, just fine.”
Mary Ellen leaned over and pressed her damp cheek against Miriam’s face. “I love you, Mama Mim.”
“I love you, too, daughter.”
Miriam spent three days in the hospital, and during that time, she did a lot of thinking, praying, and soul-searching.
Amos hired a driver and came to visit her twice a day. His daytime visits were after he’d dropped Mary Ellen off at school, but in the evenings, he brought Mary Ellen along. Miriam knew he must be getting behind on his work, but she looked forward to each of his visits.
The pain in Miriam’s ribs and head was beginning to lessen, but her last night in the hospital was the worst, as every muscle in her body felt rigid. She had trouble falling asleep and asked for a sleeping pill. While waiting for it to take effect, Miriam stared at the ceiling and thought about her life with Amos and Mary Ellen.
She finally drifted off, only to fall prey to a terrible nightmare. In the dream, Amos was driving the same buggy she’d ridden the day of her accident. Miriam stood helplessly by the side of the road and watched in horror as the horse reared up and the buggy rolled onto its side. When she’d called out to Amos and he didn’t answer, her heart was gripped with fear that he might be dead. “Amos! Amos!” she shouted. “Come back to me, Amos.”
“Wake up, Miriam. You’re having a bad dream.”
Miriam opened her eyes and saw the night nurse standing over her.
“I—I was only dreaming?”
The nurse nodded. “The medication you took earlier probably caused that. Here, take a drink of water and try to go back to sleep.”
Miriam’s throat felt dry, and her sheets were wet with perspiration. She drank the water gratefully, thankful that she had only been dreaming. The thought of losing Amos bothered her more than she cared to admit.
I
When Amos heard the patter of little feet outside his room, he set his Bible on the nightstand and rolled over in bed. A few seconds later, a soft knock sounded on the door.
“Pappy, are you awake?”
“Jah, Mary Ellen. Come in.”
As the child entered his room, the hem of her long white nightgown swished across the hardwood floor. “I miss Mama Mim, and I couldn’t sleep for worryin’ about her.”
He patted the patchwork quilt that covered his bed. “Lie down here awhile, and I’ll take you back to your room after you’re asleep.”
“Really, Pappy? You wouldn’t mind?”
He smiled and stretched his hand out to her. “Not at all. I would enjoy your company.”
Mary Ellen settled herself against the pillows and released a sigh. “I wonder if Mama Mim’s lonely there at the hospital without us.”
“I’ll bet she’s as eager to come home as you are to have her back.”
“How about you, Pappy? Aren’t you lookin’ forward to her comin’ home?”
“Jah. Things haven’t been the same around here without Miriam,” he answered honestly. The truth was, Amos missed his wife more than he cared to admit, and if nothing but friendship ever grew between them, he knew he would always love her.
“If Mama Mim stays away much longer, I’m afraid the kinner at school will start makin’ fun of my lunches again.”
His eyebrows shot up. “What’s wrong with your lunches? Aren’t you getting enough to eat?”
“I get plenty. It’s just that the lunches you make aren’t near as tasty as what Mama Mim puts together for me.”
Amos couldn’t argue with that. He’d been the recipient of Miriam’s lunches himself, and she had always fixed flavorful, healthy fare that would please any man’s palate. “I’ll try harder to make you better lunches,” he said, gently squeezing the child’s arm.
“That’s fine, but will Mama Mim be comin’ home soon?”
“Tomorrow, if the doctor says it’s okay.”
“Oh, I’m so glad!” Mary Ellen closed her eyes. “Gut nacht, Pappy.”
“Good night, daughter of mine.”
I
Miriam awoke the following morning, knowing it was the day she would be leaving the hospital. She was anxious to go home but felt confused as she continued to ponder the strange, frightening dream about Amos that she’d had the night before.
She could feel the beginning of another headache coming on, and her hands trembled. “What’s wrong with me, Lord?” she cried, turning her head into the pillow and giving in to the threatening tears despite her desire to remain in control of her emotions.
Finally, when Miriam had cried until no more tears would come, she dried her eyes and sat up. Amos would be here soon, and she didn’t want him to know she’d been crying.
Miriam was dressed and sitting on the edge of her bed, reading the Bible she’d found in the drawer of her bedside table, when Amos entered the room carrying a pot of purple pansies. He took a seat next to her on the bed, and she self-consciously averted his gaze, knowing she must look a sight. Her eyes were swollen and sore from loosing pent-up emotions that had been long overdue for release.
“Miriam, these are for you.” Amos placed the flowers on the nightstand beside her bed.
“Danki. They’re beautiful.”
“Before we go, I want to discuss something with you,” he said in a most serious tone.
Miriam forced herself to look into his eyes. “Oh?”
With a hesitant look, Amos reached for her hand, and he smiled when she didn’t pull away from him. “I–I’ve been wondering if you’ve thought about what I said to you the other day.”
“What day was that?”
“The day of the accident—right before I left to get you some help.” Amos cleared his throat. “I–I’ve been wanting to tell you the truth for so
me time, but I didn’t know how to say it, and I wasn’t sure you would believe me or how you would take it.”
“The truth about what?”
“The way I feel about you. Until the day of your accident, I was afraid to say anything. But when I saw your buggy toppled over on the side of the road, I was scared I might lose you, so I blurted out the truth—that I love you and have ever since we were kinner.”
Miriam gasped. “I do remember hearing those words, but I thought I had only dreamed them, and I wasn’t sure who had spoken the words to me.” A film of tears obscured her vision as she stared at his somber face. “I had no idea you cared for me when we were kinner, Amos.”
“How could you know when William never kept his word?”
“William? What’s William got to do with this?”
“He knew I cared for you and that I was too shy to say anything. When I gave him some pansies to give to you, he promised he would put in a good word for me.”
“You—you were going to give me flowers?”
“Jah.” Amos groaned. “William, my so-called friend, let you think the pansies had come from him, and he never said a word on my behalf.”
Miriam opened her mouth, then closed it again. She could hardly believe William would have done something so deceitful. But then he had led her to believe he loved her and wanted to make her his wife, only to run off to Ohio and marry someone else. “Amos, I—I don’t know what to say,” she stammered.
He placed one finger against her lips. “It’s all right. You don’t have to say anything. I know you don’t return my feelings, but I had to tell you anyhow. When I saw you injured, I was afraid that I’d never have the chance to tell you what I would have told you years ago if I hadn’t been so shy.”
“You must have gotten over your shyness,” Miriam pointed out. “Otherwise, you wouldn’t have asked Ruth to marry you.”
He nodded. “That’s true. I did.”
“Did you love her, Amos?” Miriam hated to think that Amos had married another woman while he was still in love with her.
A Merry Heart Page 20