by Beth Wiseman
“I do.”
Miriam kept her eyes locked with his and waited for him to go on.
“I would just—just miss you. So very much.” He covered his eyes with one hand, and Miriam realized she’d never seen her father cry. Until now.
Miriam put her arms around him and cried with him for a moment.
I would miss all of you too.
Rebecca finished her conversation with Bishop Ebersol, then headed toward the house. Before going inside, she stopped and lowered her head to pray that she’d done the right thing. When she looked up, Aaron was standing right in front of her.
“This could all backfire on you, especially when Zeb finds out.”
She lifted her head. “I have to believe I did the right thing, Aaron. I’ve prayed about this, and it’s just not right—what’s goin’ on over there.”
Her husband shook his head, then glanced around until he saw Zeb carrying a stack of wood, a smile on his face. “I know we don’t know Zeb and the boys as well as we should, but it wonders me if it’s right to interfere in a man’s life like that, even if we’re trying to do gut for everyone involved.” He edged closer and stroked his beard. “He’s here helping our family, and you’re telling his family secrets.”
“Secrets that can cause harm to his children.” Rebecca’s voice cracked as she began to second-guess what she’d just done.
“I hope it doesn’t bring shame to Zeb’s family. That’s all I’m saying.”
Rebecca bit her bottom lip for a moment, then eased closer to her husband. “You know that’s not why I’m doing this.”
“I know, Rebecca. But what you are doing is going to cost us something very precious.”
Rebecca realized that there would be a cost for what she’d done, but in her heart she believed it was the right thing for everyone. She could only hope and pray that she’d helped the Fishers, even if they never saw it that way. Just the same, her own actions frightened her, and she blinked back tears.
“Don’t cry, Rebecca. Please don’t cry.” Aaron discreetly reached for her hand and squeezed. “We will pray extra hard about this.” He paused when Shelby walked by them toward the barn. He waited until she was out of earshot before he asked Rebecca, “Where’s she been?”
“She was upstairs packing. She thought we were going to send her home early because of what happened.” Rebecca shook her head.
“She didn’t mean to burn down the barn. It was an accident.”
“That’s what I told her.” Rebecca watched Shelby join Miriam and take two glasses of tea from a tray, then pass them out to the fellows nearby. “I worry about her. I think divorce must cause all kinds of problems when there are kinner involved, no?”
“I don’t know, Rebecca. Divorce or not—it seems odd to me that her folks don’t call or check on her more often.”
Rebecca couldn’t agree more.
Shelby wound her way around the crowd, careful to avoid Jesse. She’d stopped going to lunch with him and hadn’t made an effort to get in touch with him. She was leaving in two weeks, and they’d already become much too close. Saying good-bye was going to be hard enough.
She missed their lunches and talks about books, but she knew Miriam was right. If she were to get close to Jesse, it wouldn’t be fair to either one of them, even if Jesse had hinted that he had a curiosity about the world outside of this safe community. He belonged here, and although she didn’t want their friendship to come to a halt, she’d rekindled another relationship. Her time with the Lord brought her a sense of peace that she hadn’t had in a long time. She credited Miriam and her family for reconnecting her with God, but Shelby knew that through prayer, He was changing her life.
She’d replaced writing in her diary with prayer, and instead of regret about her choices in the past, her parents’ choices, and the life she’d led—now she was working on not carrying the burdens of the past, hers or her parents. Causing the barn fire could have been a setback and destroyed all that she’d been working toward— feelings and recognition that she hoped to take from here when she had to leave. But after talking with Rebecca, she found their forgiveness amazing. She wondered briefly how either of her parents would have reacted to such an accident. She recalled the time she accidentally broke her mother’s favorite crystal vase. Not quite tall enough to smell the flowers at nine years old, she tipped the vase toward her and spilled the water. She knocked it off the table when she was wiping up the water. First there was yelling, then she was sent to her room for the afternoon. But it was an accident.
Lost in thought, she didn’t see Jesse walk up beside her. “Got an extra one of those?”
Sweat ran the length of Jesse’s face as he eyed the two glasses of iced tea Shelby was holding. “Sure.” She eased one in his direction.
Jesse gulped the cold drink for several seconds, and Shelby started to walk away but stopped when she heard her name. She slowly turned around.
Jesse had one hand on his hip as his eyes narrowed. “Did I do something to upset you, Shelby?”
She avoided his intense green eyes as she nervously moistened her dry lips, then finally looked up at him, realizing how much she’d missed him. “No. Everything’s fine.”
He tipped back his straw hat and scratched his forehead for a few moments. “It sure don’t seem fine. We were having lunch, talking. . . then you just didn’t want to spend any more time with me.” He paused, his lips pressed together for a moment. “I figure I must have done something.”
She shook her head. “No, Jesse. You didn’t do anything. It’s just—I’ll be leaving soon, and I just. . .” She bit her bottom lip, unsure how much to say.
Jesse eased closer to her, folding his arms across his chest. “Didn’t want to break my heart?”
Shelby’s eyes grew big as saucers, and she was sure her face was four shades of red. “What?”
“I like you, Shelby.” His tight expression relaxed into a smile. “And I’m pretty sure you like me too.”
She smiled tentatively, but her heart was racing. “Is that so?”
“Ya. And I figure you didn’t want us to get too close, since you’re leaving and all.”
Just the thought of leaving caused her smile to fade. To agree with him would make it that much harder in two weeks. “I’ve just been busy, Jesse.” She glanced around at everyone working, then hung her head. “And I feel terrible about what happened.”
Jesse leaned down until Shelby was forced to lock eyes with him, eyes filled with tenderness. “Do you know how many barn fires we have each year from lanterns or propane heaters?” He waved his arm around the yard. “And you see how we handle it, no? And by the end of the day next Saturday, your cousins will have a brand-new barn.” He chuckled, then whispered, “Theirs was old anyway.”
She stifled a smile. “Thanks for saying that.”
“So how about going for a ride with me Tuesday after work? I get off early that day.” He winked at her. “We could go fishing at the Zook place.”
Shelby took a deep breath, then lifted her chin a bit. “I can’t, Jesse. I’m sorry.” She handed him the full glass of tea she was holding and took his empty glass. “I have to go.”
She didn’t turn around as she headed back to the house. But she couldn’t help but wonder if she was making a mistake. As she walked up the porch steps, she wondered if they would keep in touch or write letters.
Saul watched his father across the yard saying good-bye to Rebecca and Aaron. He heard Miriam’s parents both thank Daed as they smiled. Saul cringed at the sight. From this moment forward, he would be watching out of the window, waiting for Bishop Ebersol to show up, and he would be praying it was on one of Daed’s good nights. He had Rebecca Raber to thank for that.
He picked up his tool belt from where he’d left it earlier, then strapped it around his waist. He glanced up at his father a couple of times. The best man he’d ever known. And no matter his shortcomings, his father didn’t deserve to be shamed by the community, as would
surely happen when word of his drinking got out.
Saul had never seen his father drink a drop of alcohol until a few days after his mother and Hannah were buried. It seemed harmless enough at the time. Lots of folks in the district partook of wine, some even whiskey and beer. But for Daed, it slowly began to take him to a faraway place, somewhere free from the pain of Mamm’s and Hannah’s deaths. But it seemed like the more he drank, the more he began to change—into someone Saul didn’t recognize anymore. But no matter what, Saul knew the man his father really was, the man buried beneath grief so thick he couldn’t dig his way through it.
He headed toward his buggy as moments of his childhood flashed before his face. He recalled the time he’d begged his father for a sled one Christmas following a bad harvest. Money was tight, and the sled was on display at a fancy store in town. Saul didn’t understand until he was much older why his father had taken on a job in the evenings. Saul and both his brothers each got brand-new fancy sleds that year, different than the kind they could have made themselves. These were faster and slicker, and Saul and his brothers had many a race down the hill behind the house that year.
More memories of his father breezed through his mind, and Saul fought not to question the Lord’s will, why his mother and Hannah were taken away from them all. How different their lives might have been. He watched his father walking toward him, a smile stretched across his face.
“Gut people, Rebecca and Aaron. I regret that we haven’t spent more time with them.” His father’s kind gray eyes brightened. “But I guess we will now that you and Miriam are getting married.” He put his hand on Saul’s shoulder. “She seems like a good choice for a fraa, sohn.” Daed pulled his arm back, then started unhitching the horse. “Your bruders said that they will get a ride home later.” He walked around to the passenger side of the buggy, Saul’s cue to drive. “Have you thought about the haus you will build on the property I’m deeding to you? Many bedrooms for many kinner, no?”
Saul stared at his father, blinked a few times, and forced the images of his father on the living room floor out of his mind. How can this be the same man? He managed a weak smile and nodded as he climbed into the driver’s seat of the buggy. His father took a seat beside him, and Saul eased away, realizing he hadn’t even said good-bye to Miriam. He knew she wasn’t to blame for her parents’ actions, but right now it seemed to be the Fishers against the Rabers. Rebecca Raber had seen fit to tell the bishop his family’s secrets, even though he’d promised to stay here with Miriam and get married in the district.
It would serve Rebecca right if Saul swept Miriam away from here.
But what about Ruben and James?
Saul wondered if he was placing blame on the right person. He glanced at his father, then took a deep breath.
17
MIRIAM WALKED INTO THE KITCHEN ON WEDNESDAY, surprised that Shelby was up before her and already helping Mamm. It was the second time this week.
“Shelby scrambled some special eggs this morning,” Mamm said, smiling. “They have onions, tomatoes, peppers, cheese, and. . .”
Mamm rattled off some more ingredients, but Miriam wasn’t listening. She didn’t feel like smiling this morning, and with each day that passed since Saturday, her mood had grown worse. Saul hadn’t said good-bye after helping clean the fire debris, and she hadn’t talked to him since. She wasn’t sure who she blamed more—her mother for meddling, or Saul for letting her mother affect their relationship.
“I’m calling them mei Englisch special eggs.” Shelby glanced at Miriam’s mother, who chuckled.
“Even learning some Dietsch while you’re here.” Mamm placed a jar of rhubarb jam on the table.
“Mind if I call everyone to kumme esse?” Shelby said with a bright smile.
Mamm laughed again. “I think those hungry boys are already on their way, but I’m impressed, Shelby.”
Miriam rolled her eyes as she pulled the orange juice from the refrigerator. Must be nice that Mamm can be so cheerful. She wanted to ask her mother what she’d talked to Bishop Ebersol about on Saturday, but most likely Mamm would say it was a private matter. Besides, her father and brothers were making their way into the kitchen.
Following prayer, they began to eat, and everyone loved Shelby’s eggs. Miriam had to admit they were good. She savored the taste as she thought about how much Shelby had become a part of the family. Shelby and her mother had been interacting a lot more, especially since the barn fire, which Miriam didn’t mind, especially right now, when Miriam had little to say to Mamm. Besides, it didn’t sound like Shelby had nearly as good a mother as Miriam and her brothers.
Miriam reached for a piece of bacon and pondered her thought. Yes, she was angry with her mother, but she also knew her mother was a good person. And she loved her very much. She glanced around the table at her family. John stuffed his mouth with a biscuit, his hair unintentionally spiked on top as if he’d slept in the same position all night. His bright blue eyes shone with innocence, and Miriam felt like crying all of a sudden.
He’s only eight years old. I’ll miss seeing him grow up if I leave with Saul. Maybe pushing for this move with Saul, to fulfill his dreams, is a mistake.
What are my dreams?
Saul watched from the front yard as Miriam pulled into the driveway. He suspected she was angry with him for leaving Saturday without saying good-bye. He was angry at himself. Glancing at the sun, he figured it was nearing the supper hour, and he planned to make asparagus soup, a recipe of his mother’s that he’d added some spices to, giving it a zestier flavor. He couldn’t wait until he could cook for Miriam in their own home—even if it wouldn’t be in Pittsburgh. He sighed as he thought about the times he’d fantasized about cooking at one of the fancy Englisch restaurants.
“I’ve missed you,” he said as he approached her side of the spring buggy, and as her face lit with a smile, he didn’t think he’d meant anything more in his life. He extended his hand to help her down. “I’m sorry I didn’t say bye on Saturday.”
“It’s all right.” She kept her hand in his as they stood facing each other. “You seemed upset that mei mamm was talking to Bishop Ebersol. I was wondering if she was talking about us.”
“Maybe. Maybe about our wedding. We should choose a date, then publish it.” He squeezed her hand.
Miriam’s blue eyes sparkled. “Mamm made some rhubarb soup the other day, and she put mint in it. It was her third time to try to make the soup.” Miriam crinkled her nose. “It was terrible—for the third time. She mumbled your name and gave it to the dog.” She brought a hand to her mouth, stifling a grin. “Know anything about that?”
Saul laughed. “I gave her that recipe when she was here.”
Miriam giggled, but then her smile faded. She looked down for a moment, then turned to him and asked, “What did she say to you that day, Saul?”
When he didn’t answer, she said, “I can’t wait to be your fraa, Saul, but are you sure you can be happy here? I still don’t understand why you’ve given up going to Pittsburgh, and I think mei mamm had something to do with it.”
Saul knew Rebecca wasn’t to blame for his decision. She might have destroyed his family’s reputation by talking to Bishop Ebersol, but Saul was making the best choices for his family. It just wasn’t God’s plan for him to leave here and pursue a life in the Englisch world. No matter how much he’d wanted it and prayed about it, there were just too many obstacles in his path. He remembered his mother saying once that if things are meant to be and part of God’s plan, then they come easily and without forced effort. So instead of praying for a new life outside of his community, Saul had been praying that he would accept God’s will for both him and Miriam, whatever that might be.
“No, Miriam. Your mamm didn’t convince me to stay here. I just ain’t ready to leave Ruben and James yet.” He clutched her hand with both of his.
Miriam squared her shoulders and stood taller. “Maybe we shouldn’t get baptized, then. Maybe we should
wait and see if you decide to go to Pittsburgh later, in a few years.”
“You would do that for me? Wait?”
“Ya. I would.”
Saul heard her say she would wait for him, but her tone was reluctant, and he knew right then that he could never do that to her. He didn’t feel worthy of all the sacrifices she was willing to make for him, especially since she didn’t know the real reason why he couldn’t go to Pittsburgh. Now was the time to be completely honest with her.
He touched her chin, quickly glanced around the yard, then kissed her lightly on the lips, grateful that his father and brothers were already inside. “I love you, Miriam. I don’t want to wait to get married. We’re going to get baptized in October, then marry in November. Nothing would make me a happier man.” He smiled at her, then took a deep breath. “But there’s something I want to tell you.”
They both turned when they heard horse hooves clicking against the driveway.
“Bishop Ebersol,” Saul said and hung his head. “This is what I wanted to talk to you about.”
“About Bishop Ebersol? Why is he here?” The look of concern in her eyes made Saul’s heart ache.
“Ya. He’s probably here to talk to my father. . .”
“What? What are you talking about, Saul?” Miriam’s hand was on his arm.
Bishop Ebersol pulled in beside Miriam’s buggy before Saul had time to answer. He wasn’t sure what to tell her anyway. Miriam dropped her hand to her side, and Saul’s heart thudded in his chest as he watched the older man step down from his covered buggy, aided by a long black cane in one hand. Saul could feel his world getting ready to crash down around him.
Once everyone found out, his family would be avoided, shamed in the community. It wasn’t their way to judge, but Saul knew there would be plenty who would practice their own private form of shunning. He locked eyes with Miriam and wondered how she would be affected by it. Will you still want to marry me?