The Captive Heart

by Dale Cramer

  “We’ve been courting for a little while now,” he said. He seemed different this night, quiet and nervous. The self-righteous façade he’d worn for Levi had vanished, gone and forgotten. He seemed far less self-assured when no one else was around.

  She nodded. “Five months now.”

  “They say a minister is coming in the summer.”

  “Jah,” she said, unable to make out his face in the shadows. “That’s good news. We’ll have baptisms again.”

  He was quiet for a second. “And weddings,” he finally whispered, shifting his feet.

  She smiled. “Jah, that too. I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately.”

  “Really?”

  “Rachel won’t talk about it, but I have a sneaky suspicion she and Jake are already thinking of marriage. They will both be eighteen soon and Jake is very mature for his age. I think—”

  “Miriam, I wasn’t talking about Jake and Rachel.”

  A jolt went through her. “No?”

  “No. Mir, I know we haven’t been courting all that long but we’re not getting any younger, and I was wondering if maybe in the fall, after the harvest, maybe you and me could uh . . . Do you think you might be willing to be my wife?”

  Miriam knew this was coming, yet it still caught her off guard. She was glad for the darkness. Try as she might, she knew she could not keep the angst and reluctance from reaching her face, though even the darkness couldn’t make up for the awkward silence that hung between them.

  “You don’t have to give me an answer right away,” he said, rushing his words. “Harvest is a long ways off yet, so there’s plenty of time.”

  Still, she could think of nothing to say. Emotions boiled to the surface, choosing sides and warring against one another.

  “Miriam, I love you.” He had blurted it out rather clumsily, as if he’d only just thought of it. “I love you very much and I promise I will make a fine husband to you. You’ll never want for anything so long as I draw breath.”

  He meant it, and his sincerity left her with a pang of guilt. Perhaps it wasn’t his fault that the things he did to impress her fell short. Maybe it was her. It mattered less to Miriam that he could outwrestle anyone in the valley or lift a half-grown heifer off the ground by himself than that he would chastise Aaron over a harmonica. She wanted a man who understood her, who could see through her, who would listen to her and talk to her about the things that really mattered, a man who could dream with her—a man who thought she was more beautiful than a sunset.

  But he was right about one thing. She wasn’t getting any younger.

  She took his hands in hers and spoke gently from the darkness. “Micah, you’re right—there’s plenty of time. It’s just that this is a really important decision and I . . . I’ll need time to think about it. Could you wait a little while for an answer?”

  His shadow swayed slightly, looking away, pondering.

  “How long?”

  She did her best to sound positive, almost cheerful. “I don’t know. A week?”

  He nodded. His voice came out soft, a little deflated.

  “Okay. A week.”

  Discipline. Miriam mouthed the word over and over to herself.

  The blue rectangle of moonlight had crept three feet across the floor since she first went to bed. Rachel lay next to her, sound asleep, her breathing deep and regular, but Miriam’s mind would not rest.

  She tried hard to think only about Micah but she couldn’t keep flashes of Domingo from intruding—those dark eyes shining with laughter, his shoulder muscles rippling in the sun when he chopped corn, his dark hair flying in the wind when he raced the painted pony bareback, the fire in his eyes when he took down the armed bandit who tried to kidnap her. He was beautiful, but he was also a man of depth and principle. Teaching him to read, she’d found him a quick learner, intelligent and inquisitive. She could still see him tossing his nephew into the air—the laughter, the trust, the love, the shock that went through her like an arrow when her mind framed the moment and cast it into the future, seeing a father with his son.

  But Domingo is forbidden, she thought. And Micah is the only Amish boy of the right age in all of Mexico. It is discipline I need now, and discipline I shall have. I should not care so much for Domingo. I am wrong even to let myself think of him. Micah loves me. He wants me to be his wife, and he is a good man—an Amishman who would be devastated if I said no to him. My family likes him and wants me to marry him. My mother would be crushed if I turned to an outsider, and I would be banned.

  Family is everything.

  Time is all I need. In time there is forgetting. Time heals all.

  Time and discipline.

  I will do what is right.

  I will do what I must.

  Cualnezqui.

  It didn’t take a week; it only took two sleepless nights. On the third day, after the singing on Sunday night, in the darkness out behind the buggy shed, Miriam gave Micah his answer.

  “Jah,” she said. “In the fall, I will marry you.”

  He swept her off her feet, swung her around three times and gave her a hearty kiss before he put her back down. Afterward, they went back to the house straight-faced, as if nothing had happened. It would remain a closely guarded secret between a man and his betrothed. It was tradition.

  Miriam and Micah only saw each other once or twice a week that winter. The cold season was neither as long nor as deep as it had been back in Ohio, so there was always work to do. The Shrock homestead was far from finished, and Micah’s father kept him busy turning fields and building fences. The men made two more trips into the mountains for timber that winter. Ira Shrock and his strong sons worked every day until after dark, ambitiously fencing in more than a hundred acres of pasture for the raising of beef cattle.

  Because Domingo worked for her father, Miriam saw him every day, though she tried not to. He remained polite and distant, almost cool toward her, but once in a while he turned away from her a little too quickly and she could have sworn she saw the glimmer of regret in his dark eyes.

  In March of that year the Coblentz family arrived with three big wagonloads of farm equipment and household goods, and everyone pitched in to help them get a foothold in the valley.

  In spite of all the busyness, there was love in the air that spring. The oldest Coblentz daughter, a blond-haired blue-eyed girl named Cora, was unattached. Aaron went up to Saltillo with Caleb to bring the Coblentzes to Paradise Valley, and on the return trip Cora sat next to him all the way home. By the time their little wagon train pulled into the Benders’ driveway Aaron was smitten. Before the wagons were even unloaded he asked Cora if he could court her, and she said yes. Startled by his great good fortune, Aaron smiled for a week.

  Miriam’s younger brother Harvey began courting Lovina Hershberger that spring as well, so it seemed that despite the odds all the courting-age teenagers in the valley were suddenly paired off.

  The Coblentzes brought nine children with them, most of whom were school age, and Miriam’s school grew. The Paradise Valley settlement felt like a viable community now, and it thrived in other ways, too. Miriam’s older sister Mary bore another son that spring, and Emma’s belly swelled with her third child in as many years.

  Life was good.

  Chapter 14

  The spring flew past in a flurry of work and busyness, the days growing long and the corn growing tall. Before they knew it high summer was upon them and it was time for the much-anticipated large group to arrive from Ohio.

  In mid-July five families came down together with all their kids and dogs and horses and chickens and furniture, and overnight the settlement doubled in size. There were supposed to have been six families, but the minister had not come with them as planned. The next day the eldest of the new arrivals, a man named Roman J. Miller, addressed the whole crowd after church services to dispel rumors and make sure everyone understood what had happened.

  Miller was a tall thin man with a long black beard and
a deep booming voice. He stood up in front of them and said, “As you all know, Ervin Kuhns, an ordained minister, was supposed to come with us, along with his whole family, but he got left back. His uncle Abe got kicked in the head by a horse and laid there two weeks, but he didn’t pass yet, so Ervin and his family stayed behind to wait. Now, they’re still gonna come, but I’m thinking they’ll be along a couple weeks later than the rest of us, that’s all.”

  Emma’s third child came into the world later that summer, a healthy boy with a head full of wavy hair. Mamm was down with her back pain when the baby came, so Miriam went with Rachel to Emma’s house to help with sterilizing, boiling and ironing. Delivering babies had never been one of Miriam’s strengths. Rachel, on the other hand, despite being young and single, was fast building a reputation as a natural and instinctive midwife. She seemed to have a sixth sense. The birthing went smoothly, a first for Emma. Her two earlier pregnancies had been troublesome. Her first baby was born prematurely, and she almost lost the second one early on.

  On a bright summer afternoon, while all the men were in the fields, Emma lay holding her new son as her two sisters cleaned up the room. Her honey-colored hair spread over the pillow and her blue eyes shined with pride as she gazed on the tightly wrapped son sleeping on her breast.

  “I thought he would never go to sleep,” she said. “This one has a mind of his own. Levi wants to call him Will, and now that I see how he is, I’m thinking it’s the right name for him.”

  Miriam tied the corners of a sheet around the soiled laundry and dropped the bundle next to the door, then came and sat in a kitchen chair next to Emma’s bed. Rachel lowered herself onto the foot of the bed, folding her hands in her lap.

  “You two can go home now,” Emma said. “Really, I’ll be fine, and Levi will be in soon.”

  Miriam shook her head. “We’ll stay by you. You have three babies in this house now.” Mose, Emma’s firstborn, was not quite two years old. “You’re going to need us for a day or two.”

  Rachel nodded, and made no sign of leaving.

  Emma stared at Rachel for a moment and said, “Child, what’s wrong? I know you’re tired, but you haven’t said three words all day and that’s not like you at all. Is there something troubling you?”

  Rachel looked down at the hands folded in her lap and answered quietly, “Jake and I are thinking about getting married in the fall, after the minister comes.”

  Miriam’s eyes widened. “Rachel, it doesn’t surprise me that you and Jake will be married, but I am surprised you would come right out and tell us. Your wedding plans are supposed to be secret.”

  “Pfff. How is it a secret with us? Everybody knows already that Jake and I will be married one day. It’s just maybe a little earlier than they thought.”

  “Jah, you’re only a child yet,” Emma said.

  “I’m eighteen, Emma.”

  “No! Oh, how quickly the years pass! My little sister . . . eighteen years old. But Mir’s right, girl—why are you telling us this now? You must have a reason.”

  “Emma, you and me have always told each other everything, and Miriam needs to know anyway because I want her to be one of my navahuckers.” This was no great surprise either, but Miriam smiled warmly and reached out to take her little sister’s hand.

  “But there’s another thing,” Rachel said. “Emma, I told you this because . . . well, because I want to ask you about something else. Something secret that no one ever talks about. I don’t know if I did right.”

  The worried look in Rachel’s eyes spread to both her sisters. Emma spoke first.

  “What is it, child? What have you done?”

  “I . . . I told Jake there would be no bed courtship.”

  “I see.”

  A little silence fell, and Miriam knew the darkness in Emma’s face was not disapproval—it was remorse. Emma had kept it secret that she was with child when she and Levi married, but her sisters knew. Though it was done quietly and never discussed, bed courtship was unquestioned in Ohio. It was a matter of practicality in a place where the winters were brutally cold. On a Saturday night, a boy might have to drive an open buggy ten or fifteen miles home in single-digit temperatures, only to drive back the next morning for church. The houses were uninsulated, and beds were at a premium with so many children. Bed courtship began as a practical way for a courting couple to keep warm, but for some it opened the door to temptation.

  “I know it was normal back home, but I don’t think it’s necessary here because the farms are close together and it’s not so cold,” Rachel said, rushing her words defensively. Then she lowered her eyes and added, “But mostly, I was afraid.”

  “Because of me?” Emma asked gently.

  Rachel nodded.

  “Now I understand. Is that what you said to him—that it was because of what happened to me?”

  “Oh, no!” Rachel’s fingers came to her lips. “I wouldn’t speak about that to anyone, Emma. I told him the bed would be too crowded because there were already two of us in it.”

  Miriam slapped her shoulder, laughing quietly. “You didn’t really say that.”

  “I did! There’s not enough beds as it is. Do you want to sleep on the floor with the scorpions?” This was only half jest. Miriam had found a scorpion in the kitchen just yesterday—one of the pale, lethal kind.

  “No, I don’t,” Miriam agreed. “What did he say?”

  Rachel chuckled. “He just smiled and said okay. Jake has a way of looking right into me, and he understands. I felt bad, then, because I’m not sure it ever even crossed his mind.”

  “You’re a lucky girl,” Emma said. “But I have to ask you, does Jake know about . . . what happened to me?”

  Rachel shrugged. “I don’t know. He has never said, but Jake is no fool. Could be he’s just too polite to talk about it. Anyway, he loves you just like we do, and he would never speak ill of you.”

  Emma stared at her younger sister for a moment and then said, “That’s good, too. You are wise beyond your years, Rachel. Gott has blessed you, and I’m glad you’ve found such a man as Jake. He’ll make a good husband.”

  Emma’s eyes turned to Miriam, and there was a knowing in them. Miriam had remained awfully quiet. “Well, what about you and Micah?”

  Miriam blushed, shaking her head demurely. It was a deeply embarrassing question that only Emma would dare to ask, but it was also true that only Emma would get an answer.

  “No.”

  “If he asks, what will you tell him?”

  Miriam squirmed, scratching her head, avoiding Emma’s steady gaze. Then she looked up, grinned sheepishly and said, “I’ll just tell him the bed is too crowded already.”

  Chapter 15

  The following Saturday afternoon Micah and Miriam doubled up with Jake and Rachel in the surrey and went to the hacienda village. Long before they reached the village they heard singing, and as they drew closer they could see a crowd gathered by the cattle pens on the outskirts of town. Big, bright red and white letters arced like a comet across the side of a large paneled wagon, advertising Dr. Lothar’s Traveling Medicine Show, Prestidigitator and Hypnotist. The sign was apparently all it took to hypnotize Micah. He forgot all about going to the dry goods store and steered the buggy toward the cattle pens.

  Dr. Lothar was a skinny little man with a great big voice. He wore a pinstriped three-piece suit that somehow managed to look threadbare and elegant at the same time, and a bowler hat cocked a little too sideways. There was a stage built onto the back of his wagon, and as Miriam, Micah, Rachel and Jake walked up Dr. Lothar was parading back and forth, doing card tricks and telling jokes in bad Spanish with a German accent. He invited a Mexican boy up onto his small stage and made him pick a card, pulled the card from behind the boy’s ear, then pulled a coin from behind the other ear. Next, he drew a live dove out of a bandanna he borrowed from the boy.

  The crowd was hooked, and so was Micah. He couldn’t take his eyes off Dr. Lothar as he finished his ma
gic routine, sent the smiling child offstage with a piece of hard candy and launched into a florid speech on the countless virtues of Dr. Lothar’s Amber Nectar, a patent medicine in a stoppered bottle that he held up to show the crowd.

  Caleb Bender had long ago taught his daughters that men worth listening to didn’t need to shout, and real miracles were never sold for money, so Miriam ignored Dr. Lothar and looked around to see who else was there. Scattered through the crowd she spotted half the young Amish in Paradise Valley, most of whom were hanging on Lothar’s every word. She caught a glimpse of Kyra and her two boys, and she figured Domingo must be around someplace as well.

  Dr. Lothar claimed his Amber Nectar, made from an ancient recipe whose secret a thousand Aztec warriors had died to preserve, would cure everything from hiccups to measles, make rheumatism vanish like the morning dew, grow hair on bald heads and make gnarled old women feel like the sultry señoritas they remembered from their golden youth. Why, he couldn’t prove it, for it had happened in a cattle town far away from here in the distant land of Wyoming, but Lothar swore he had once seen this very same potion bring a dead cat back to life.

  By the time the huckster finished his speech Micah was already elbowing his way toward the back of the wagon, where Dr. Lothar’s lovely assistant pulled bottles of Amber Nectar from a box and offered them for sale.

  “What is Micah doing?” Aaron had come up behind them with his girlfriend, Cora, who smiled and said hello. Aaron’s hat dangled from her hands. He wasn’t wearing it because he was carrying Little Amos on his shoulders.

  “I think Micah went to buy a bottle of that stuff,” Miriam said. “His dat let him have a crop of his own this year, so he’s got a little money.” Changing the subject, she reached up to touch fingers with Little Amos. “I see you have your helper with you today, Aaron. He’s growing like ivy.”