“Nee, there’s no need—”
But he was already gone.
Miriam put her arm around Sadie’s shoulders and led her to her mudder.
“I like your car, Mark.”
He glanced at Sadie in the rear view mirror and smiled. “Thank you. I like it, too.”
“This is nice, but you really didn’t have to do it,” Miriam said.
“Are you feeling okay?”
“Me? Of course. I’m fine.”
“You seemed quiet at the wedding.”
She shrugged. “I’m just a little tired, that’s all. It was a busy week.”
“Mark? I hafta throw up!”
He quickly checked traffic, pulled over, and helped Sadie out of the car. He led her to the passenger side as Miriam hurried out of her seat. Sadie threw up, and when she finished, she began crying.
“Here, bathe her face with this.” Mark handed Miriam a handkerchief he’d dampened with the bottle of water he kept in the car. “Do you want me to drive you to the emergency room?”
“Nee, she’s just running a little fever. Probably ate too much candy at the wedding. She’ll be fine. I’ll get her home, give her some Tylenol, and tuck her into bed.”
“I can’t get in the car!” Sadie wailed when Miriam began leading her back to it. “What if I need to throw up again?”
“Don’t worry about it,” Mark reassured her. He looked at Miriam. “Get in the back seat with her. I’ll see what I have in the trunk.”
He found a blanket he’d tucked in there the time he’d taken Tiffany for a picnic. Talk about a bust. She complained about the heat (a moderate eighty degrees). Bugs bothered her (a ladybug and a butterfly). And she barely ate any of at the gourmet food he’d picked up.
Shaking his head at the memory, Mark carried the blanket to the back seat and tucked it around Sadie. “There. That’ll keep you warm, and if you need to throw up and I can’t stop in time, you can just use this, sweetie.” He glanced at Miriam. “Don’t worry about the car. It can be cleaned.”
She nodded and smiled.
The remainder of the ride home was uneventful. All three of them were grateful for that. He carried Sadie inside and up to bed, then returned to the front porch
“I’ll stick around for a few minutes in case you need anything,” he told Miriam.
“There’s no need. We have Tylenol.”
“I’m sticking around,” he said firmly.
Miriam went back inside, and Mark helped himself to a rocking chair, his thoughts once again turning to Tiffany. It wasn’t just the blanket that had reminded him of her today. Did weddings remind people of their own relationships? Especially the failed ones?
Miriam had said she was tired from her week, but she was the most energetic woman he knew. Maybe she’d been thinking of relationships today, too. So many of her friends were married.
“She’s already asleep,” Miriam said when she returned. “I checked her temperature and it’s only slightly above normal.” She sat in the rocking chair beside him. “Danki for staying, but it wasn’t necessary.”
He shrugged. “I didn’t mind. It was a lovely wedding, but I was ready to go home. To tell the truth, I’m not a big fan of weddings right now.”
“I guess not,” she said slowly. “When were you supposed to get married?”
“After the first of the year.”
“Today’s wedding must be very different from the Englisch ones. I’ve seen the bridal magazines. Ours are pretty simple compared to the ones in them.”
“Simple, maybe, but there was something special about the ceremony,” Mark said. “It was the way it should be. Two people pledging their love before friends and family. Prayers said for them. Voices raised in song. The important things were there. All the rest, the expensive rings, the fancy flowers, satin runners, photographers . . . they’re just trappings.”
He looked at her. “But then, I’m a guy. Most of us don’t care much about that sort of stuff. Well, except for wedding cake. Now that’s something we guys care about, you know?”
Miriam smiled. “Did you have a piece of cake today?”
“Two. It was very good cake.”
Twilight fell. Buggies began rolling past on the road before the house.
“People are going home from the wedding,” Miriam commented.
“I guess I should go and help my grandfather with the evening chores. He seems to tire more these days, like his arthritis is bothering him.”
“It’s been gut you’ve been here.”
“I don’t know how much help I’ve been, but I’ve enjoyed it.” And Mark meant it. He stood. “Hope Sadie feels better.”
And you, too, he wanted to add. There’s something faintly sad about you today and I’m afraid to ask you more about it. Some things are just too personal even between such good friends.
Instead, he said goodbye, headed home, and wondered if he’d done the right thing.
Twenty-One
Miriam pulled a plastic container from the wicker picnic basket and set it on the quilt Mark had spread on the grass beside the pond. “So the talk with Abraham didn’t go well? I’m so sorry.”
Mark sighed and shook his head. “You have nothing to apologize for.”
“But I asked you to talk to Abraham. I fear I’ve just added to the frustration you’ve felt since you came here.”
He stretched out his legs. “I knew what I was up against. I’m not a complete newcomer to this community. I was just hoping I could help the family somehow.”
“I’m . . . conflicted about this.” She handed him a container of cold fried chicken. “I grew up saying ‘God’s will,’ but I am a teacher and I teach consequences. What will happen if there are no consequences to the actions of these young men?”
Mark chose a golden brown leg and bit in. “Granddad said eventually they’ll have consequences. That God sees to it.” He swallowed. “I swear, you could be rich if you sold your fried chicken.”
“You exaggerate,” Miriam replied. But it was worth standing in the still-warm kitchen the night before to make the chicken. It wouldn’t be a picnic without fried chicken. Or potato salad made from her mudder’s recipe. She fixed her own plate. “So, I guess that’s it.”
He shook his head. “I have the name and address of the driver. I’m going to pay a little visit to him.”
“You are?”
“Nothing says I can’t let this young man know that I know what he did. Intimidate him a little, make him wonder what I’ll do.”
Miriam stared at him. She’d often wished she had a chance to see him in the courtroom. Now she saw a glint in his eyes, heard a cold purpose in his voice.
She wouldn’t want to face him if she’d done wrong.
“I believe in our system of justice, of looking out for the victim. I want justice for the family. If Abraham won’t prosecute, I can still put the squeeze on this . . . guy.”
She had the feeling he wanted to use a more colorful word than “guy,” but had cleaned up his language for her. Undoubtedly he thought she was an innocent Amish maedel who’d faint at a bad word.
“When are you going to do this?”
He laughed. “You sound like you’d like to be there.” He chose another piece of chicken. “And no, you can’t.”
She pouted. “Not even if I let you have my share of this strawberry shortcake?”
Mark gazed at the dish she held out. “Nope. Sorry.”
Miriam portioned out the shortcake, holding out the bigger piece to him.
“Bribes won’t work.”
She laughed and handed it to him. “You’re no fun.”
“Speaking of fun, I saw something on the way here that might be fun.”
“What is it?”
“It’s a surprise. We’ll go as soon as you finish eating, slowpoke.”
Typical man, she thought. He’d already demolished his serving.
She handed him the remainder of her shortcake and threw the plastic containers into t
he picnic basket. “Ready.”
He drove them to a pumpkin patch attraction an Englisch family had run on their farm for many years. All sizes of pumpkins were available for sale, as were apple cider, dried cornstalks, and hay bales for fall decorations.
“Look, a maze!” a child cried as he ran past them.
“I’ve never done one of these,” Mark said. “I always had to go back home before they set this up.”
“Why would you want to get lost in a corn maze?”
He grinned. “I don’t intend to get lost. Bet I can make it to the end faster than you.”
“You are so competitive!” Miriam laughed.
“Chicken?”
She pulled some bills from her purse. “I’m paying. And when I finish first, you have to do something I want.”
“Deal.”
As they waited in line to pay for the popular activity, she cast a surreptitious look at him. The time spent working in the fields had bronzed his skin, streaked his hair, and honed his already athletic body. He stood more relaxed and at ease than she’d seen him since the day he’d arrived.
And she wasn’t the only woman noticing.
“See you!” he said and was suddenly gone, streaking down a path cut into the corn field.
Miriam knew it wasn’t speed that would win. Taking the time to think before heading down a path was the best plan.
But it took no time at all for her to realize she was hopelessly lost. Every cornstalk looked the same as the last one. If only she had some crumbs to toss down on the path like Hansel and Gretel.
She stopped and waved a hand at her face, wishing for a cooling breeze. The path seemed to narrow. Cornstalks pressed in on each side of her. The air grew musty. Her chest hurt when she tried to breathe. Her heart pounded.
This wasn’t fun. She wanted out. Now!
A little girl ran past, shouting for her mother.
Miriam wanted to do the same.
She trudged on, and when she came to a fork in the cornstalks, she thought of the Frost poem and wondered which path to take.
What would have happened if she had pursued her interest in higher education? She’d envied Mark for being able to go to college. What would it have been like to study in the classrooms with others and discuss great ideas, great literature? To have the freedoms the Englisch enjoyed? To be near Mark? To discuss thoughts and hopes and dreams with him, not just during the summer? She’d have been near him because he’d offered to ask his parents to let her stay at their house while she attended college.
It would have meant giving up everything she knew and loved—her family, her home, her community. That’s what it would’ve been like.
So she read and studied library books. Just because she didn’t attend schul beyond the eighth grade as the Amish had for generations didn’t mean education ended. So many were voracious readers. And no one loved to talk more than the Amish. If one had a listening ear, one could learn a lot.
At this moment, Miriam wished she’d listened to her dat more about how to study the sun and the shadows it cast in order to tell time and direction.
She wiped perspiration dripping down her face. It was so hot here in the maze.
Someone yelled a row over, and for a long moment she longed to do the same. Surely if Mark heard her, he’d come to her rescue.
Nee, she told herself sternly. You’re not a kind. You can figure this out. It doesn’t matter if you’re first. Just get out.
She trudged on. A ribbon fluttered on a cornstalk. Had she seen it before? Her dress clung to her. She longed for a glass of water.
She was going to make Mark pay for this if she made it out alive. And if she won, she was going to make him do something he really wouldn’t like . . . maybe shoveling out the horse stalls in the barn. Or killing and cleaning a chicken for supper.
Or maybe she’d make him take the kinner someplace one day. All of them. That would be the perfect punishment. Oh, they were gut kinner, but running after them for a few hours should test that easy charm and patience of his.
She came to another fork in the cornstalks and sent up a prayer. Please, Gott, get me out of here!
Tears filled her eyes. She blinked furiously, determined not to cry. Then, because her vision was blurred, she tripped on a root and fell flat. She sat up, but when she tried to stand, she cried out in pain.
She’d had enough. “Mark? Mark? Can you hear me?”
But all she heard was the rustling of the cornstalks as the wind swept through them.
Mark was getting a kick out of the maze. Figuring it out was turning out to be no effort at all for his analytical mind. He was going to win this one.
Too bad it wasn’t as easy to figure out the twists and turns of his life lately. Sometimes he felt like Job.
Okay, so that was being melodramatic. He hadn’t faced the trials and tribulations of the biblical Job.
He’d get another job. He had a home here with a grandfather he loved, a dear friend like Miriam, and other friends in the community. And he enjoyed farming. Always had. It must run in the genes. If his father hadn’t chosen to leave this place, he’d have even grown up here, likely married Miriam.
He came to a screeching halt. What? Married Miriam? Where had that come from?
“Hey, mister!” a kid cried as he veered around him and ran ahead of him on the path. “Watch out!”
“Sorry!”
Mark began walking again, but slower. The thought had never occurred to him before. But the fact was, in the Amish community, couples grew up together, became friends, and then often those friendships matured into marriages. Surprisingly strong, enduring marriages. Sure, the prohibition against divorce kept some couples together, but it was only a small part of it from what he’d witnessed. Amish couples were close because they knew each other so well before marriage, and if they weren’t compatible, they didn’t marry. They often worked together as partners managing a farm or running a business, and they shared child care and embraced their elderly family living with them.
He’d become engaged after mere months. How well could anyone know someone in that amount of time? Was it any wonder it had fallen apart at the first sign of a problem?
Up ahead lay two paths. He considered for a moment, gazed up at the sun, down at how the cornstalks threw a shadow, and thought about what grandfather had taught him. He turned right.
The day was growing warm. He’d worn a cotton short sleeved T-shirt and khaki pants, and wondered how Miriam was faring in her traditional modest dress. It couldn’t be very cool. He stepped up the pace, eager to get out of the sun and get a cold drink. Maybe some ice cream on the way home? Yeah, he’d console her after her loss with ice cream.
He took the next turn and suddenly was free of the maze. Miriam was nowhere in sight. He grinned and sat on a nearby bale of hay.
Fifteen minutes later, he was still sitting waiting. He frowned. He’d teased her, but she had a pretty good sense of direction. Everyone they’d stood in line with had emerged several minutes ago.
He flagged down one of the employees. “Have you seen a young Amish woman come out?”
The man shook his head. “Want me to go in and look for her?”
If he knew anything about Miriam, she’d hate that. Mark glanced at his watch and shook his head. “I’ll give her a few more minutes.”
He pulled out his cell phone, checked for texts. In the old days there would have been dozens. Today there were just two. He read the one from Lou— and it was his usual cheery note saying he hoped to dig up something soon.
Mark sure hoped so, or he’d be digging deep into his savings.
Lani left a text that was more upbeat than her last one. The attorney she’d been assigned to “isn’t you but he’s okay.” That was a relief. She wasn’t just his paralegal and assistant—make that former assistant. She was a good friend and a hard-working single mother, and he didn’t like her being unhappy or worrying if she had a job.
He checked the tim
e again and frowned. What on earth was taking Miriam so long? The employee he’d spoken to before was nowhere to be seen, so Mark wandered around to the front and approached the woman who took the admission.
“My friend hasn’t come out. I’m getting worried about her.”
“No problem. We’ll find her. I’ll get my oldest to look for her. Hey, Bill, we’ve got a lost one. The lady who came in with this man. Young Amish woman.”
A shaggy headed teenager nodded and loped off into the maze.
“Bill will find her real quick. You’re looking warm. Want a root beer? Made from a recipe an Amish friend of mine gave me.”
Concerned, Mark looked over her shoulder. “I should go find her.”
“Give Bill a minute. Don’t need two of you lost.”
She was right. Business seemed slow and she looked anxious as she watched the road. He dug out his wallet. He bought a half gallon of apple cider, an apple pie, apple butter, and a bag of just-picked apples to take home to his grandfather.
Minutes ticked by. As he waited, Mark stared at the nearby fields and found his mind wandering. His thoughts went straight back to the disconcerting epiphany he’d had in the middle of the maze. The one that had stopped him dead in his tracks.
If his father hadn’t left the community and raised him in Philadelphia, he would have grown up here and could very likely have married Miriam. What would it have been like to marry her?
More minutes ticked by. “I’m going in.”
He started into the maze, calling Miriam’s name, but there was no answer. He turned right, then left, called her name again. Then suddenly she was there, limping toward him.
“Miriam!” Mark rushed forward and caught her as she fell into his arms. “Are you hurt?”
“I tripped and hurt my ankle.”
She looked tired and hot and frazzled. She pushed at the strands of hair that escaped her kapp and stared at him. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
He shook his head. For the first time in his life, he was speechless. He thrust the root beer at her and she took it, looking grateful. She took a long sip, sighed, then turned to the teenager. “Thank you, Bill. If it wasn’t for you, I might have been in there forever.”
Seeds of Hope Page 18