Sarah nodded. “That’s a gut plan.” She rose and looked out the kitchen window. “Let’s fix lunch, then why don’t you go to Lovina’s to see what help you can give today? We’ve done most of the harvesting and canning of the kitchen garden.”
“You’re schur you don’t need me here?”
“Nee. I’ll be fine.”
So Miriam spent the afternoon at Abraham and Lovina’s farm. Lovina looked better. The dark circles under her eyes were gone, and she looked cheerful when she greeted Miriam at the door.
“Abraham’s gone to pick up the buggy,” she said. “It’s all repaired, and the vet said Star is well enough to pull it.”
The house was quiet.
“Where are the kinner?”
“They went with their dat. They should be home soon.”
“Then let’s see how much we can get done before they get home.”
They did laundry and hung it on the clothesline, worked in the kitchen garden, and cooked supper.
Miriam insisted Lovina sit and take a break, and was glad she did when, just a few minutes later, they heard the buggy roll into the driveway on its way to the barn. A few minutes later kinner burst into the kitchen grinning. “Mamm! We’re home!”
“So I hear.” Lovina peered closely at the kinner. “What’s that on your face?”
“We got ice cream!”
Abraham followed them inside.
“You gave them ice cream this close to supper?”
He nodded and grinned, unabashed. “It was a special occasion. Mark treated them.”
Lovina picked up a paper napkin and dabbed at a spot on Abraham’s shirt. “Looks like you had some ice cream, too.”
Mark stepped inside. “Hey, Jason and I are leaving.” He glanced over and saw Miriam. “Didn’t know you were here.”
“I’m helping Lovina.”
“Need a ride?”
She shook her head. “Nee, danki.” Better to walk to the moon and back to avoid being with him right now.
“Danki for helping us get the buggy,” Abraham said.
“My pleasure.”
He left and Abraham took the kinner with him to help with outside chores.
“Jason came by?”
Lovina nodded. “He came with Mark. Said he wanted to help. I think Mark has had a good influence on him. I told Mark maybe he’s trying to be a teacher like you.”
Miriam shrugged. “He told me you said that. I’m just a teacher. He’s had all that college, been a successful attorney.”
“It’s a gut thing to be a teacher. Where would anyone be without teachers?”
“Or mudders.”
Now it was Lovina’s turn to look modest. “You’ll be a wunderbaar mudder one day.”
“If I ever get married,” she muttered.
“You will.”
Miriam was saved from responding when one of the kinner ran into the kitchen.
“Mamm, we’re all hungerich. When’s supper?”
“Tell everyone to come in and wash up now.” She turned to Miriam. “Will you stay for supper?”
“Nee, danki. I should get home and help Mamm.”
Lovina hugged her. “Danki for the help. I’ll see you at church next Sunday.”
Miriam grabbed her purse and sweater and escaped just as the kinner came rushing in the back door. She walked out the front door, started down the porch steps. And stopped dead in her tracks when she saw Mark parked in the drive.
Mark looked up from the email on his smartphone as he leaned against his car.
Miriam was staring at him in shock.
“Hi.” He straightened.
“I thought you’d left.”
He held up his phone. “Checking my email. I got some good news. I’ve been called for some interviews.”
“Interviews?”
“For a job.”
“Oh, I see.”
A brisk fall breeze blew through the trees in the yard, scattering leaves down. Miriam shivered and drew her sweater closer.
“Get in. I’ll give you a ride home.”
“Nee, I can walk.”
Mark rounded the hood and held open the passenger door. “Come on, Miriam. Get in. I promise I won’t touch you.” Or almost kiss you, he wanted to add but didn’t dare. She already looked like a doe ready to bolt.
She hesitated a moment, then did as he asked.
“So I guess you’re happy?”
He nodded and started the car. “I was beginning to wonder if anyone would call.”
“Why wouldn’t they?” She buckled her seat belt. “You’re a good lawyer.”
“The bad publicity,” he said shortly as he pulled out onto the road. “It’s a big deal in my line of work.”
Silence stretched between them. He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel and wondered if someone from her background would ever understand the problem. They were at her driveway before he could frame what he wanted to say.
“I may stay in town a day or two.”
“And if you get the job?”
“I’ll come back to take care of some things.”
“Some things?”
He pulled into the driveway. “It’s obvious my grandfather needs help with the farm, more help than the community can or should have to do for him.” He’d seen how much pain his grandfather was in, how tired. Several times he’d found him sleeping in his recliner, his Budget newspaper spread open, unread, on his chest.
“We take care of our own.”
“I’d feel better if he had some hired help. Something.”
“Well, that’s between the two of you.”
He turned to look at her. “I’m glad he’s had you to look out for him, take him meals and things.”
“I love John. He’s been like a grossdaadi to me.” Miriam bent her head and stared at her hands folded on her lap. “I’ll never be able to repay him for helping me get my teaching job.”
“I’m sure he’d say no thanks needed. He simply recognized your talent.” He gave her a rueful smile. “I’m glad I could help Abraham and his family. Lovina said it was the first time her youngest smiled since the accident.”
“That’s nice to hear.”
“Who knows. It might have made Jason think about things. He was going in a wrong direction. He has a chance to turn that around.”
She nodded. “We’re all teachers in a way, aren’t we? I always figured God put us on earth with others because we’re supposed to learn from each other.”
“I’ve learned a lot from you.” Mark reached across the space between them to touch her hand.
“You . . . you promised not to touch me.” She raised her gaze to his and stared, her troubled expression preventing him from saying more.
He withdrew his hand and rested it on the steering wheel. “Anyway, I’ll be back in a day or two unless something comes up.”
“Allrecht.” She fumbled with her seatbelt, then the door handle.
Mark reached to help her with the handle, but as he did she jerked her head around, startled at his nearness. Their faces were just inches apart. They stared at each other and his gaze dropped to her mouth.
He couldn’t help it. He couldn’t. He kissed her.
Miriam drew back, pressing her fingers against her lips. “Nee,” she whispered. “We can’t.”
“I’m sorry.”
She looked at him, trembling. “You’re sorry because you kissed me?”
He dragged a hand through his hair, then decided to tell the truth. “No. I’m only sorry I broke my promise not to touch you. Twice.”
She closed her eyes, shook her head. And then she was out of the car before he could grasp her arm and stop her. She ran up the steps to her house and disappeared inside.
Great. There probably wasn’t anyone more innocent than a young Amish woman. They even called them maedels here, for goodness’ sakes.
He sighed and shook his head, debated whether he should try to apologize. Before he could get out of his ca
r, his cell phone rang.
“Mark? It’s Saul. I was wondering when we could get together so you could look at the permit paperwork.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers. He’d been so caught up in his good news he’d forgotten he’d promised Saul he’d stop by.
“I can come now.”
“Schur, that would be gut. Danki.”
He hung up and drove to Saul’s farm, mumbling to himself all the way. So much for his good memory.
Saul and his wife, Esther, greeted him effusively when he arrived. The family was just sitting down to supper, so he was invited to join them. He found himself seated at the table with six children who gave him big smiles and studied him with open curiosity.
Food, family, and faith. He’d never been surrounded by so much since those summers with his grandfather. Heads were bent for the blessing for the meal. Mark heard Esther whisper, “Patties down,” and he cracked an eye open to watch the toddler in the high chair near him put her pudgy hands on her tray. She grinned and showed a mouth with a half dozen baby teeth. Then he saw Esther trying to suppress a smile. He shut his eye again and listened to Saul.
Mark took the bowls and platters the children passed him, impressed with how even the littlest child managed them. Silence reigned as appetites sharpened by chores were appeased.
Now that cooler weather had arrived, the women baked more, so tonight they dined on stuffed pork chops, sweet potatoes, butter beans, and homemade applesauce. Esther served blackberry cobbler made from berries the children had picked, and told a funny story about them surprising a snake under a bush.
“Mamm wouldn’t let me keep him,” one of the boys said, sounding aggrieved.
“He needed to stay with his family,” Esther replied.
The meal done, the table cleared, she supervised the older children washing and drying the dishes while Saul and Mark went to the living room to study the papers about the permit.
Mark hadn’t dealt with such matters at his firm, but it was a fairly simple thing. He reviewed it with Saul, who had a better understanding of it than he’d thought.
“I guess I didn’t really need to bother you with it,” Saul said a bit sheepishly.
“It’s no problem. They have to make it sound official, I think, so people will do as they say. But sometimes they go overboard with their language. Makes it so that we have a whole profession like mine possible,” he quipped.
He’d brought a legal pad with him, so he drafted a reply letter and read it to Saul. “I’ll type this up and bring it by tomorrow for your signature.”
“Gut. How much do I owe you?” Saul asked, looking visibly relieved.
He told Saul it was pro bono, explaining the term as he had to Miriam. “But I wouldn’t turn down some cookies, if you have any on hand. I got some from Lovina the other day.”
“Done.” Saul grinned. “Or there might be some blackberry cobbler left.”
“I doubt it. I had two helpings.”
But Esther produced a plastic container with some cobbler for him and his grandfather, and looked pleased he wanted it.
As Mark headed home, he winced as he passed Miriam’s house. Should he stop? He kept on driving, making excuses. He needed to get the letter typed and printed. Lay out his clothes for tomorrow. Polish his good shoes. Pack extra copies of his resume in his briefcase. He had to set the alarm, get to bed, make sure he got some rest. No telling what traffic would be like, so he had to get an early start.
It was no surprise to him that he wrestled with his conscience for a long time before he could sleep. And when he got up in the morning, his sheets were as tangled as if he’d wrestled with them all night.
Twenty-Five
Miriam smiled. She knew she was dreaming, but she just didn’t want to wake up.
Mark was kissing her. And patting her cheek. Hard. Rather too hard to be romantic.
She woke and blinked as she stared into her youngest schweschder’s face. “Katie! What are you doing here?”
Giggling, she climbed up into her bed.
“Katie!” her mudder’s voice called from down the hall. “Where did you go?”
“She’s in here, Mamm!” Miriam called back.
Their mudder walked into the room and put her hands on her hips. “She climbed out of her crib again.”
Katie bounced on the bed and giggled.
Sarah sighed. “It’s hard to be upset at such a good-natured kind.” She held out her arms. “Kumm, let’s get you dressed and we’ll get some breakfast.”
“Fast!” Katie agreed. She let her mudder pick her up and carry her from the room. “Bye-bye, Meer!”
“Bye!” Miriam tossed aside her quilt, swung her legs over the side of the bed, and set her feet on the floor. Almost immediately she pulled them up and winced at the chill. She pulled on stockings, shoes, then dressed and did her hair quickly.
It was a mad rush getting breakfast on the table, helping the little ones with their oatmeal and toast, and doing last-minute grooming before they headed out the door for schul.
There wasn’t a spare moment to think of Mark. Well, she did glance at John’s house as they walked past it. Mark’s car was gone. He’d certainly gotten on the road early for his interviews, she couldn’t help thinking.
She wished him well. She really did. At least, she wanted to. It was selfish to want him to stay when he wanted to be back in his world.
Well, she’d never claimed to be perfect. She strived to be, but it would be so very immodest to think she was, after all. Hadn’t she been told “der hochmut kummt vor dem fall”—pride goeth before the fall?—all her life?
Her bruders and schweschders rushed past her after she unlocked the front door of the schul. They set their lunchboxes in the cubbies built for their things, then ran outside to play until it was time to start lessons.
Miriam fetched a broom and swept gold and red leaves from the porch and steps. The trees were shedding them so fast. Soon their limbs would be bare. Winter wasn’t so far away now. Spring and fall always seemed too short in Lancaster County.
She felt a pang of loneliness as she stood there in her domain. Schur, her bruders and schweschders were playing only a few feet away. But she was already lonely for Mark.
Shaking her head as if she could drive the thought away, she went back to sweeping the steps.
Kinner began arriving, looking eager. They climbed the steps, put their lunchboxes in their cubbies, then ran back outside to play until she called them inside.
She gave them all a few extra minutes. It was such a lovely day and she knew they would buckle down and work hard when they were asked. She put the broom away, glanced at the clock, then walked back outside.
“Kinner, kumm! Time to start schul!” she called and clapped her hands.
She stood clear of the door and greeted them as they clambered up the stairs and chorused their greetings. Only Naiman dragged his feet as he walked toward her and climbed the stairs.
“Why can’t we play longer?” he grumbled as he reached the top step.
“Because it’s time to learn now. And the sooner everyone learns their lessons, the sooner they can go outside for recess.”
He grinned at that and hurried inside. Recess was his favorite word.
She closed the door. As she walked to the front of the room, she spied Jacob tugging on the pigtail of little Rachel who sat in front of him. She gave him her best stern frown. He let go immediately and raised the lid of his desk to get out paper and pencil.
The morning passed quickly with lessons and recess, and before she knew it, it was time for lunch.
She roamed the room, helping the younger children open the wrapping on their sandwiches and unscrew the cap on their thermoses. The scents of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and homemade soups filled the air.
She’d packed her favorite egg salad and brought a thermos of hot chocolate. It was the same lunch she’d enjoyed in the same room of her childhood. The only differ
ence now was the position of her desk. She found such continuity comforting and couldn’t imagine anything better.
After the kinner consumed cookies and whoopie pies and cleaned their desks, they returned their lunchboxes to the cubbies and got to play outside for a brief time. Sometimes she joined in the play, but today she sat on a bench and watched, keeping a close eye on social interactions. Sometimes she learned as much about the kinner from the way they got along as she did in conversations about lessons.
That reminded her that she needed to respond to the circle letter she’d received a few days ago from another teacher. This time the topic was about what each teacher was planning for the Christmas play.
“Hello!” Lovina called as she came up the path to the schul. “It’s such a beautiful day, ya?”
“Ya. Danki for coming to help this afternoon.”
“I enjoy it.” She sat beside Miriam.
“How are you feeling?”
“I still have sad times,” Lovina admitted in a low tone. “But God has blessed me with three kinner and I must trust that He knows best. The doctor says there’s no reason we won’t have another boppli.”
“Gut.” Miriam patted her hand.
“And how are you feeling? I heard Mark went into Philadelphia today for an interview.”
“The Amish grapevine is working well as always, I see.”
Lovina laughed. “Ya.”
Something hovered at the edge of Miriam’s vision, then darted toward Lovina. “A dragonfly,” she murmured.
“I’ve seen so many since . . . since I lost the boppli,” Lovina whispered as she held out her hand.
The winged creature landed on it and sat there, flexing its transparent wings, seeming to study her with its gemlike eyes.
Then, as a kind approached Miriam, it fluttered off and the moment was gone.
“I have to go potty,” Rachel confided, jumping from one foot to the other. “Can I go to the bathroom?”
“You may,” Miriam said, gently correcting her grammar. Then she turned to Lovina. “Well, I guess we should get started on our arithmetic.” She stood and clapped her hands to get the attention of her scholars.
As Mark drove into Philadelphia, he thought about how little both places he loved ever changed.
Seeds of Hope Page 21