by Beth Wiseman
She recalled all the times she disobeyed her parents during the divorce, and she knew that drugs and alcohol hadn’t served her well either, but God must still be punishing her for her bad choices. Otherwise He’d help her find some kind of peace in her heart. Especially at night, loneliness seemed to overtake her as recollections of better times haunted her. She reached for her journal, unlocked it, and then stared at the page. For the first time in a long while, she didn’t have anything to write. She’d already voiced her thoughts. . . to God.
And He clearly wasn’t hearing her.
Rebecca tossed and turned, just like she had the night before. She fought the anger building inside her about what happened yesterday. How could a guest in their home steal from them like that? She thought about the time and effort that had gone into making the quilts, and they were going to feel the loss of income for the next couple of months.
She rolled onto her side, tried to ignore Aaron’s snoring, and then asked God to free her heart of anger. . . and worry. And as wrong as it was, she worried about Miriam’s interest in Saul. She didn’t know the boy well, but what she did know was that he’d been in trouble several times, even reprimanded by the bishop. But most troubling were the rumors that he might not get baptized and would leave the community. If that was true, where did that leave Miriam if she and Saul grew close? Miriam was eighteen, but in so many ways she was still a child, and Rebecca feared Miriam wouldn’t be able to cope with a broken heart.
After another fifteen minutes of thrashing around because of her frustrating thoughts, she pushed back the sheet, reached for the lantern, then eased out of bed. Quietly she fumbled in the bedside drawer for a match. As she headed downstairs, the aroma of chocolate chip cookies still lingered in the air, and she smiled as she thought about John eating six of the warm treats earlier, straight from the oven. Her youngest boy had a sweet tooth for sure.
Rebecca poured herself a glass of milk, then peeled back the foil covering the cookies. She put the lantern on the counter and savored the moist cookie in her mouth, thinking that she could probably eat six cookies too, if she allowed herself. She rinsed it down with her milk, then slowly made her way back upstairs, hoping sleep would come soon and thankful she could sleep in a bit tomorrow since there was no church service.
Shelby would be glad she could sleep in. Poor girl just couldn’t seem to get up in the morning. As she passed by the girls’ room, she paused, then slowly turned the doorknob. Before she pushed the door wide, she lowered the flame on the lantern so as not to wake them. She smiled at Shelby, her head buried beneath the covers, wondering how she could sleep like that when it was so warm. Then she held the light a little higher toward the far bed, but Miriam was nowhere to be seen. Her heart thudded in her chest.
She stepped out of the bedroom and padded down the hallway to the bathroom. After shining the light into the small, empty room, she hurried back to the girls’ bedroom. Gently she pulled the covers from Shelby’s head and whispered, “Shelby, wake up, dear.”
After a groan, Shelby cupped a hand above her eyes to block the light. “What is it, Rebecca?”
“Where’s Miriam?”
Shelby bolted upright in the bed and cleared tangles from her face. “Huh?”
Rebecca’s heart rate picked up. “Shelby, where is she?” She turned the flame up on the lantern. “Is she outside? Maybe on the porch? Did she go to the barn for some reason? Maybe she couldn’t sleep.” Rebecca walked to the window, but there wasn’t a light coming from the barn. She spun around and edged closer to Shelby. “Did she tell you where she was going?”
Shelby rubbed sleep from her eyes, then blinked several times. “She isn’t here right now.”
Rebecca held the lantern higher and thrust her other hand on her hip. “I can see that. Where is she?”
“I’m not sure exactly.”
“Shelby. . .” Rebecca took a deep breath, afraid her anger was going to boil over.
For nearly two hours, Miriam and Saul sat at Yoder’s Pantry after they’d decided it was too late to go to a movie. It took awhile for Saul to seem comfortable, but once he started talking, Miriam hung on his every word. He loved to talk about cooking and recipes, especially about cooking for his family. Miriam could tell that it was Saul’s way of loving and nurturing them, and it endeared him to her even more. Her Saul had an independent spirit, something she loved, and he was kindhearted.
As much fun as she was having with Saul, Shelby had been right about sneaking out. Guilt kept a steady hold on Miriam. She had to admit that regret about her choice was putting a damper on her time with Saul. She glanced at the clock again. Eleven thirty.
“This has been great,” she said to Saul as he finished his second piece of pie, following the full meal they’d had earlier. “But I guess I need to go.”
Saul chewed, then quickly swallowed. “Ya, this has been fun.” He smiled, and momentarily Miriam forgot about everyone else but him. The dreamy way he’d been looking at her all night had caused her heart to flip several times. “And I have some new recipes to try out on Daed and the boys.”
Miriam took a sip of her coffee, then stifled a yawn. But there was something else weighing on her mind, and even though she knew it was late, the question had been lurking on the tip of her tongue all night. “Saul, I’ve heard a couple of people say that you might not be baptized come the fall. That’s not true, is it?”
Any hint of a dreamy look on Saul’s face vanished instantly, and his eyes averted hers. “Where’d you hear that?”
Miriam shrugged, disappointed since that was not the outright denial she’d hoped for. “Just rumors, I guess.”
Saul reached for his coffee, spilling a bit over the side before he took a sip. Then he reached for his hat on the seat beside him. “I guess we better get you home before your parents don’t let you out of the haus again.” Miriam could tell his smile was forced and something had changed. Saul stood up and waited for Miriam to do the same.
A few minutes later Saul opened the door of her buggy. “I’m going to follow you home. It’s too late for you to be on the road.”
Alarms went off in Miriam’s head. If she got caught coming home, it would be even worse if Saul was following her. “No, no. You don’t have to do that. The storm they predicted just moved around us. I’ll be fine going home.” Even though she’d forgotten to charge it, she pulled Shelby’s cell phone from her apron. “See, I have a phone.”
To her surprise, Saul reached for it, then flipped it open. “I thought about getting one of these, but. . .” He stopped mid-sentence as his forehead creased. “The battery is dead. The light doesn’t even come on.”
“Ach, ya. I was supposed to charge it inside somewhere.” Miriam hung her head, knowing that she wasn’t being completely truthful with anyone tonight.
He handed the phone back to her. “I’m following you home.” His tone was firm and protective, and Miriam smiled at him. Her parents never got up during the night, and she’d just be quiet going into the house. They’d never see Saul. She refocused her thoughts on whether or not he would kiss her tonight. He closed the door, then promised to stay right behind her.
Ten minutes later, as she was pulling up her driveway with Saul right behind her, she gasped at the light on in the den downstairs. Maybe Shelby was up. Or one of her brothers, which wouldn’t be good. Her brothers would tattle on her.
She slowed the buggy, jumped out as soon as it stopped, then ran to Saul’s buggy. “Danki for supper. I have to go!” She turned to run toward the house, then he called her name. She turned around, her heart pounding in her chest. “I’m sorry. I have to go.” She looked over her shoulder toward the house, then back at Saul.
“Do you want to do something again?”
Miriam wanted to stay in the moment and talk to him more, especially since Saul had clearly avoided her question about being baptized. But the longer she stayed outside talking to Saul, the worse things were going to be when she went inside. �
��I’ll call you from our barn phone tomorrow at”—she thought for a moment, remembering that it was an off-Sunday for church service—“at ten in the morning.”
“Okay.”
Saul sounded confused, but Miriam ran toward the house, knowing she’d been caught. She waited until Saul rounded the corner before she reached for the screen door, glad that the wooden door was closed. Maybe her parents hadn’t seen Saul. She pulled the screen door toward her and was just about to turn the knob on the main door when she heard the sound of car tires on their driveway. She pulled her hand back, turned around, and waited to see who it was. Her stomach knotted inside her at the thought of what faced her on the other side of the door, but she couldn’t imagine who would be visiting them at midnight.
She waited. The car wasn’t even parked before another car turned into their driveway. Miriam held her hand up to block the headlights from both vehicles. She turned around when she heard the front door open. Her mother stepped onto the front porch, supported by her father, and she was sobbing uncontrollably. They were followed by her brothers, who were also crying. Shelby appeared behind them, and Miriam wasn’t sure, but it looked like Shelby had been crying too.
“Mamm! What is it?” Miriam clutched her mother’s arm when it appeared she might fall. Her father lifted his wife into his arms and held her close as a tear ran down his face. “Daed, what’s wrong? Someone tell me.”
Her mother pulled herself from Daed’s arms, then stumbled down the porch steps. She fell into her brother Noah’s arms. Mamm’s sister Mary Ellen stepped out of the other car and ran to her mother and Noah. Miriam watched the scene unfolding and began to cry herself. She didn’t know what had happened, but it was bad, and it clearly didn’t have anything to do with her sneaking out to meet Saul.
8
MIRIAM TRIED TO CALM HER BREATHING AND HER crying as they moved into the house. She couldn’t believe it— her Uncle Ivan was dead. She’d just seen him at the market on Friday. Shelby kept her arm around Miriam as they moved into the house. Noah’s wife, Carley, was doing her best to comfort Miriam’s brothers, but all three boys couldn’t stop crying.
It was bad enough that Uncle Ivan was in a car accident that killed him, but their loss felt even worse because he had been shunned recently, banned by his family for his recent choices. No one knew why her uncle was in a car so late at night.
Once Miriam was settled on the couch next to her aunts, Mary Ellen and Carley, Shelby offered to go make everyone some tea, but no one took her up on it. Shelby didn’t even know Ivan, had only met him that one time, but yet she cried along with the rest of them.
“The policeman said he went quickly.” Noah choked out the words as he ran a hand through his hair. “Never suffered. The other car hit the car Ivan was riding in head-on.” Noah paused. “The driver of that car was also killed instantly, but the person who hit them survived. He’s at Lancaster General in a coma.”
“Oh no.” Mamm wailed from the rocker across the room. Miriam’s father leaned down beside the chair and clutched her hand, then Mamm said, “Poor Katie Ann. . . and their baby. Oh no, Aaron. As far as I know, Ivan still didn’t know about the baby.” Mamm dropped her head into her hands and sobbed.
They all knew Katie Ann was pregnant, but her aunt had chosen to keep her pregnancy a secret from Uncle Ivan, fearful he would return to Katie Ann out of obligation. Miriam’s family had promised Katie Ann that they wouldn’t mention anything to Ivan—at least for a while. Now he would never know, and Miriam wondered if they had done the right thing.
Mamm raised her head and continued, “Someone will have to call Katie Ann.” Mamm dabbed at her eyes. “And we will need to call Samuel and Lillian.”
Miriam tried to make sense of everything as she counted the other Stoltzfus siblings in her head. There was her mother, Samuel, Noah, and Mary Ellen. Everyone lived here in Lancaster County except for her Uncle Samuel, his wife, Lillian, and Ivan’s wife, Katie Ann. Miriam missed her aunts and uncles, and she’d hoped to see them soon—but not like this.
“It’s late, Rebecca.” Her father squeezed Mamm’s hand. “We’ll call them at daylight.”
Mamm nodded, and then Miriam’s eyes met with her father’s. His scowl caused Miriam to look away from him. She felt as low as a serpent slithering on the ground. She wanted to run across the room and comfort her mother, but her father’s eyes kept her planted on the couch.
After about an hour, the group began to part ways, following more hugs and tears. Miriam couldn’t stop thinking about her uncle, all the times she’d spent with him over the years, and how she’d been praying for him to come back to the church.
Once everyone was gone, Miriam cautiously eased toward her mother. “What would you like for me to do, Mamm?”
Her mother dabbed at her eyes, then glared at Miriam. “What would I like for you to do, Miriam?” She paused as her eyes narrowed with anger. “I would like for you not to sneak out of our home to go and meet a boy.” She put both hands to her forehead and wept. “I can’t talk about this right now.” She turned to go up the stairs but turned around. “I don’t want you seeing that boy.”
“Let’s go upstairs, Rebecca.” Miriam’s father coaxed her up the stairs, leaving the rest of them in the den. Shelby reached for John’s hand and offered to take him back up to bed, but Miriam’s eight-year-old brother wiped his eyes and said he didn’t need her to. Ben and Elam eased past them, and Ben motioned for little John to follow them. Miriam stood in the middle of the den with Shelby, watching her family go upstairs. Then she cupped her face in her hands and cried. She felt Shelby’s arms go around her, and she buried her face in her cousin’s shoulder and wept.
Saul held the piece of plywood against the barn wall and nailed it firmly in place. It wasn’t the best repair job, but it would keep things dry until he could fix it permanently. He released the breath he was holding, only to have his nostrils take in a full load of stench. Their mule, Gus, had kicked the siding in her stall yesterday after she got spooked by a skunk, which caused the skunk to spray everything in the stall. Saul pinched his nose and thought about how he was going to get the smell out of the barn—and off of Gus.
He glanced at the phone on Daed’s workbench and figured it to be close to ten o’clock. Miriam would be calling soon, and thoughts about her had kept him up last night. Daed and James were working in the fields, and Ruben went to town for supplies they needed. Saul was glad to be alone with his thoughts this morning.
His father topped the list, and Saul fought to keep the worries from his heart. He knew that everything was the will of God, but he prayed constantly that God would see fit to cure his father of his drinking. It was like living with two different people—the man he admired and loved, and a strange being he didn’t recognize when he drank. Once, in a drunken fit, his father had folded onto the floor like a small child and said that Mamm’s and Hannah’s deaths had left his soul without a spirit. It was a strange thing to say, but for some reason it stuck in Saul’s mind. His father had never gotten over their deaths. Daed tried hard to stay focused for Saul and his brothers, but the alcohol seemed to just intensify his loss and turn him into a crazy man.
Saul fretted about Ruben and James. And his father. If he continued to see Miriam Raber, he’d only be adding her to his list of worries, and all this anxiety would drag a man down.
He picked up some tools that Ruben had left out on the workbench and began putting them in the proper storage bins. Then he glanced at the clock again.
Rebecca looked in the mirror hanging on a small chain in their bedroom. Even though they’d agreed to sleep late this morning, her eyes were puffy and red. She took a deep breath, then finished dressing. The thought of cooking breakfast made her feel sick to her stomach, but everyone had to eat.
“I shouldn’t have been so hard on Miriam last night,” she said to Aaron when he walked into their bedroom already dressed in a dark-blue shirt and black slacks. Rebecca had chosen a dark-brown dress and
black apron to wear to the funeral home.
“Miriam shouldn’t have snuck out to see the Fisher boy.” Aaron pulled a pair of suspenders from the chest of drawers. “We will talk to Miriam about this after we’ve made Ivan’s arrangements.”
Rebecca sat down on the bed and pulled on a pair of black socks. “Ivan was Miriam’s onkel, though, and I spoke cruelly to her even though I knew she was hurting.” She reached for her black shoes and pulled them closer. With one shoe in her hand, she rose up and looked at Aaron. “It wasn’t even Miriam’s fault, I’m sure.”
“What do you mean?”
“Miriam would never disobey us, and Shelby has a history of being disobedient.” She leaned down and pulled her shoe on. “I’m sure Shelby convinced her to go against our wishes. Miriam would never do that.”
“You don’t know that, Rebecca.” Aaron raked a hand through his dark hair. “It ain’t fair to blame Miriam’s choices on Shelby.”
Rebecca stood up, but she didn’t say anything.
“Shelby seems like a gut girl. She tried to help last night when we found out about Ivan, and she shed tears along with the rest of us, even though she didn’t know him.”
“I’m not sure she should be here, Ivan. I’m not sure she’s a gut influence on Miriam. . . or the boys. Maybe we shouldn’t have agreed to let her stay here for the summer.”
Aaron put his hands on Rebecca’s shoulders. “I think we have enough to worry about this morning without adding this to the list.”