A Place of Peace

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A Place of Peace Page 7

by Amy Clipston


  Edna beamed. “You were always such a gut maedel, Miriam.”

  “I’m sure your family will be froh to have you around again.” Beth Anne lifted the pies. “Danki for these.”

  Jessica grabbed the cookies.

  “Let me help you carry them out.” Miriam retrieved the other desserts and followed them to the SUV.

  “I appreciate all you’re doing to help the bakery,” Beth Anne said after loading up the desserts.

  “I don’t mind helping out my aenti,” Miriam said. “She was always very supportive of me, even with what happened before I left.”

  Beth Anne seemed to study Miriam’s expression, and Miriam immediately regretted her words.

  “It’s gut to have you back,” Beth Anne finally said. “I think your being here will give everyone a chance to heal.”

  Miriam blanched, unsure of what to make of her comment.

  “See you later,” Jessica said, climbing into the vehicle.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow. Have a gut day.” Beth Anne climbed into the SUV and waved as it headed down the driveway toward the main road.

  Miriam stared after the SUV, wishing she understood what Beth Anne meant by everyone having “a chance to heal.” Did she mean Timothy, or was she referring to the Henderson family?

  Miriam contemplated Timothy, wondering if he had any healing to do. He sure seemed to be over her by the way he behaved with the young woman at the funeral. Yet, there was something unnerving in his stare when he gazed at her. Did he have some unsettled feelings about her?

  Deep in thought, Miriam headed back into the cabin.

  “Miriam made all of them,” Beth Anne said, placing the desserts on the large counter in the center of the bakery’s kitchen. “She said she’s going to stay a couple of weeks to work things out with her family and to care for Edna.”

  “That’s very generous of her,” Elizabeth said, examining the chocolate cake. “It looks like she does good work.”

  “I’m surprised she remembers how to cook since she ran off to be a nurse,” Kathryn quipped, unwrapping the strawberry pie.

  “I think we should hire her,” Beth Anne blurted out, eyeing her mother for a reaction.

  “What?” Kathryn exclaimed. “You can’t be serious, Beth Anne. Why would you hire someone who hurt our brother?”

  Elizabeth’s expression was curious. “Why do you think we should hire her?”

  Beth Anne made a sweeping gesture over the desserts. “Look at her work. It’s wunderbaar, and we’re drowning here with the tourist boom this time of year. We could have Miriam back here, baking and restocking along with us. The girls are having a hard time keeping things straight up front. We could put Lindsay out with them all day. It makes sense.”

  Beth Anne ignored her sister’s glare and continued studying Elizabeth’s reflective expression. “Think about what I said the other day,” Beth Anne said. “Perhaps bringing Miriam in here would force her and Timothy to actually talk. I’m certain he avoided her at the funeral, and I can’t think of any other way to get them together. I feel like God is speaking to me about this and telling me to hire her. I know it sounds narrisch, but I feel like this is the right thing to do. It feels like God’s will, and I need you to believe me.”

  “You’re not crazy.” Elizabeth patted Beth Anne’s hand. “I happen to agree with you. We’ll hire her, and let God do as He sees fit with Miriam and Timothy. We’ll leave it in His hands.”

  “You’re both narrisch!” Kathryn exclaimed. “I can’t be a part of this. Timothy will explode when he hears about it. The last thing he needs is Miriam here in his face. She broke his heart, and you two seem to have forgotten that.” She grabbed the plates of peanut butter bars and pumpkin pie squares and stomped toward the front counter.

  Beth Anne raised an eyebrow. “She’s upset.”

  “She’ll have to let it go.” Elizabeth shrugged. “It’s my bakery. Therefore, I make the rules.”

  Beth Anne chuckled while cutting up the strawberry pie.

  “Monday morning you offer Miriam the job,” Elizabeth said, mixing up cookie dough. “Tell her I’m anxious to see her again and have her working with us while she’s here for two weeks.”

  Sunday afternoon, Miriam curled up on the sofa and read from the book of John in Edna’s Bible.

  The weekend had flown by quickly. She had a nice conversation with her boss on Friday afternoon. Lauren said she understood why Miriam wanted to spend a couple of weeks in Lancaster County to bring some closure to the issues with her family. Miriam had promised to call Lauren next week and give her an update on how things were going.

  Miriam had spent Saturday helping Edna clean before doing the grocery shopping. Then she’d baked all afternoon in preparation for Beth Anne’s visit Monday morning. She hoped her sand tarts, chocolate peanut butter cookies, and peanut blossoms were good enough to give to Beth Anne. Since baking was considered work, it wasn’t allowed on Sunday.

  Although Sunday was an off-Sunday, meaning no formal community worship service, the day was still considered holy. Miriam and Edna had spent some time reading from the Bible and singing hymns together after breakfast.

  After devotions, Edna had retreated to her room for a nap, and Miriam was concerned by how exhausted she’d appeared.

  While reading the Bible, Miriam’s thoughts kept wandering. She found herself analyzing Beth Anne’s comment about everyone needing to heal. She couldn’t stop herself from wondering if Beth Anne had been speaking of Timothy.

  A knock on the door pulled Miriam from her thoughts. Placing the Bible on the end table beside her, she headed to the door and wrenched it open, squealing when her eyes fell on Hannah and her children.

  “Hannah!” She embraced her sister. “It’s so good to see you!”

  “Danki.” Hannah returned the hug before directing her children into the cabin. “Say hello to your aenti.”

  Miriam hugged each of the three children and then led them to the kitchen, where she pulled a container from the refrigerator. “You all can be my guinea pigs and try these sand tarts.”

  “Guinea pigs?” Ian asked. “What do you mean?”

  Miriam chuckled to herself while setting the cookies on napkins. “It means you’ll test the cookies for me.”

  “Oh,” Mary said, grimacing. “So we’ll tell you if they’re bad.”

  “I hope they aren’t bad.” She patted Mary’s head while handing her the napkin full of sand tarts. She then handed napkins to Lena Joy and Ian.

  “How about you kinner take them out back and eat them, so Aenti and I can talk,” Hannah said. “Play nicely outside.”

  They filed outside, and Miriam tapped one of the kitchen chairs. “Sit. I’ll bring us some tea and cookies.”

  “Danki.” Hannah lowered herself into the chair.

  Miriam brought the tea and cookies to the table and sat across from her. “Abby went home Friday. She wanted me to tell you good-bye.”

  “That’s a shame.” Hannah frowned. “I’m sorry I didn’t get to talk to her more. We spoke briefly at the funeral.”

  “She had some emergencies come up at work, and she had to leave right away. She’s married to that job, you know?” Miriam sipped her tea and then smiled. “I have exciting news.”

  Hannah snatched a cookie from the plate. “What is it?”

  “I’m staying for two weeks.”

  Hannah squeezed her hand. “I’m so pleased! What led you to the decision?”

  “Aenti has been exhausted and in a great deal of pain from her arthritis. I want to help her out, and I want to spend more time with you and try to work out things with Daed, if that’s possible.”

  Hannah nodded, chewing the cookie. “This is delicious, Miriam. You did a wunderbaar job.”

  “Danki. I’m baking them for Beth Anne. Aenti makes desserts for the bakery for extra money.”

  “I think Beth Anne will be pleased.” Hannah sipped the tea. “As for Daed, he’ll come around. I think you shou
ld visit later in the week. I’ll go with you, if you’d like.”

  Miriam nodded, biting into a cookie. “I may take you up on that. He intimidates me.”

  Hannah waved off the comment. “Don’t let him. He’s really a big puppy under that hard exterior.”

  “I’m not so sure.” Miriam shook her head. “I never did anything right in his eyes. I never did the laundry correctly, my grades were never good enough, and I messed up the Henderson job. I was the black sheep, so to speak. He was probably froh when I left.”

  “That’s so far from the truth, Miriam.” Hannah touched her hand. “He missed you after you left.”

  Miriam snorted. “Please, Hannah. There’s no need to lie to make me feel better.”

  “I’m not lying!” Hannah tapped the table for emphasis. “You ask Lilly. He talked about you incessantly for a long time, saying how there was no need for you to leave. I think his ego was hurt, but he missed you.”

  “How’s Lena Joy?” Miriam asked, needing to take the conversation away from her father.

  Hannah sighed. “It’s hard to say. She has good and bad days. Some days she’s completely exhausted, but other days she’s full of energy. We’re praying that she’ll get a liver soon.”

  “Do you know why she got sick?” Miriam asked, plucking another cookie from the plate. “What causes the disease?”

  “The doctor says it’s genetic.” Hannah broke a cookie in half while she spoke. “He said that since we’re carriers for the disease, there was a one-in-four chance our kinner could get it, and she was the only one who did. It’s a miracle the other two didn’t. It’s all biology.”

  Miriam nodded, chewing another cookie. “These didn’t turn out half bad.”

  “I told you they were delicious.” A smile crept across Hannah’s lips. “I saw you chatting with Zach Fisher at the gathering after the funeral. He’s still a bachelor.”

  Miriam rolled her eyes. “Please don’t try to play matchmaker with me. I’m not interested.”

  “Why not? He owns a successful saddle shop, and he’s handsome and sweet. He’d be good for you.”

  Miriam shook her head. “We’re friends, and that’s all.”

  “Friendship is a great way to start courting.” Hannah wagged a finger at her. “If you’re friends first, then you really know each other.”

  “I’m sure that’s true. I’m just not looking.” Miriam made an attempt to change the subject. “The funeral was nice, wasn’t it? It was good to see some old friends.” She bit into a cookie.

  “Did you see Timothy?”

  Miriam nearly choked on the cookie. She sputtered and then took a long drink.

  “I’ll take that as a yes,” Hannah muttered. “Did you speak to him?”

  Miriam shook her head. “I only saw him across the room. We stared at each other and then I left as fast as I could, like the chicken I am.”

  “Why didn’t you talk to him?”

  “I have nothing to say to him.”

  Hannah’s stare was accusing. “Then why did you almost choke when I asked about him?”

  Miriam glared at her. “I have nothing to say to him, and that’s that.”

  Hannah shrugged. “Suit yourself. Go on wondering why things turned out the way they did instead of asking him. He’s not married, so something held him back from moving on.”

  “Maybe the maedel he was seeing behind my back left him too. It would serve him right for what he did to me. Nevertheless, that’s really none of my concern. He made his decision by not marrying me. End of story.”

  Hannah nodded. “I guess you have a point.”

  Miriam stood. “Let’s go see what the children are doing. I haven’t had a chance to catch up with Lena Joy.” Miriam followed Hannah out the back door to the small porch. She called the children over and they sat on the porch together.

  Miriam listened while Ian and Mary shared school stories about their friends and teacher. When they ran out to the field to play with a ball, Miriam turned to Lena Joy and asked about her friends. They talked until it was close to suppertime and Hannah had to get home to cook for her family. Miriam walked Hannah and her children out to the buggy, and she hugged each of them before they climbed into it, promising to visit them soon.

  As they drove off, Miriam smiled and sent up a silent prayer thanking God for Hannah and her nieces and nephew. She also said a prayer that she too would someday have a family.

  8

  These are wunderbaar,” Beth Anne said, studying the half-dozen desserts Miriam had waiting for her Monday morning. “They’re so gut that I have a question for you.”

  “What?” Miriam asked, wiping her hands on a dish towel.

  “Would you consider coming to work for us at the bakery full-time?”

  Miriam blanched. “Are you serious?”

  “Ya.” Beth Anne laughed. “Why would I ask if I weren’t serious?”

  “You should do it,” Edna said from her favorite chair. “You shouldn’t mope around here all day.”

  “I don’t mope,” Miriam said, defensive.

  “Ya, you do mope,” Edna countered. “You need to get out. You’re young. Go work with Beth Anne and her family. It’ll be gut for you.”

  Miriam bit her bottom lip, pondering the offer. Would going to work for Timothy’s mother be a good idea? For some unexplainable reason, she couldn’t say no.

  Glancing down, she examined her faded jeans and her peach T-shirt, caked in flour. “I have to find some appropriate frocks, along with aprons and capes. I can’t dress English.”

  “I have frocks that will fit you,” Edna said. “You can let the hem down on a few of my dresses, and we’ll make you a few spares too. We can work on that this afternoon, and you can start tomorrow.”

  Miriam glanced at Beth Anne, who smiled.

  “It’s settled,” Beth Anne said. “You start tomorrow and work for the two weeks while you’re here. It’ll be wunderbaar.” She started toward the door with Jessica in tow, carrying desserts.

  “Can you be there by five?” Beth Anne asked. “That’s when we start baking.”

  “Ya.” Miriam inwardly groaned. She’d forgotten how early she used to get up when she lived in her father’s home.

  Miriam helped Beth Anne and Jessica to the SUV and then watched them drive off, stunned at the course of events. As of tomorrow, she’d be an employee of the Kauffman Amish Bakery, owned by the woman who’d once planned to be her mother-in-law.

  A strange excitement coursed through Miriam’s veins. She would be a member of the Kauffman’s extended family. Why did this inspire her? Her future with Timothy had been shattered the day she’d left Lancaster County.

  Could God be giving her a second chance with him?

  Miriam shook her head at the naïve notion. There was no hope for a second chance with Timothy. He’d made his choice, and Miriam had made hers.

  Yet something inside her awakened at the thought of being welcomed by his family.

  Pushing that thought aside, Miriam hurried back into the house. She had a full day of sewing ahead of her.

  Jessica dropped into the swing on her aunt Rebecca Kauffman’s porch. Pulling her cell phone from her pocket, she checked the time and sighed.

  “He’ll be here,” Lindsay, her younger sister, said, leaning on the doorway. “Jake has never let you down.”

  Jessica lifted her can of Diet Coke from the small table beside the swing. “You’re right. He’s kept all of his promises, and he’s the only man who’s ever done that for me, aside from Dad.”

  “That’s true.” Lindsay leaned on the porch railing. “Can you believe Mom and Dad have been gone over a year now?”

  Jessica absently fingered her mother’s wedding ring, hanging on a chain around her neck. “It’s gone by so quickly, hasn’t it? It seems like only yesterday we moved in here. So much has happened.”

  Lindsay gave a bleak smile. “I miss you.”

  Jessica crossed her legs. “I miss you too. It feels
weird not having a little sister to argue with. Aunt Trish’s house is too quiet.” She studied her sister’s plain purple dress, black apron, and prayer kapp. “Don’t you get hot in all those clothes?”

  Lindsay shrugged. “I’m used to it.” She nodded toward Jessica’s legs. “I think it would feel weird to wear jeans again. I’m used to dresses and aprons.”

  “Do you get headaches having your hair plastered to your head in a bun?”

  Lindsay snickered. “No. Like I said, I’m used to it.”

  Jessica shook her head. “It’s beyond me why you would want to wear that stuff. Don’t you want to be a normal fifteen-year-old and listen to alternative music and go to the movies and the mall? You know, Aunt Rebecca wouldn’t love you any less if you weren’t Amish. You don’t need to feel pressured to fit in here.”

  “I don’t feel pressured, Jessica. I only feel pressured by you because you keep telling me that I don’t need to be Amish. I’m comfortable here. I feel like a Kauffman.”

  “I’m just saying—”

  “Let’s not fight tonight, okay?” Lindsay smiled. “Today’s a special day. Today you turn seventeen. I’m still surprised you didn’t want a party.”

  Jessica gave her a look of disbelief. Did her sister have a selective memory? “Are you serious? Don’t you remember the fiasco it was last year? I ran away. Then I got hit by a car in Virginia and wound up in the hospital.”

  “I remember what happened, but things are better now with the family. They would’ve been happy to celebrate with you.” She shrugged again. “That’s okay. We can still celebrate without a party.” Lindsay pulled an envelope from a pocket in her apron and handed it to Jessica. “Happy birthday, big sister.”

  Jessica’s eyes widened. “Lindsay, you didn’t need to—”

  “Of course I did.” Lindsay sank onto the swing next to her. She gestured toward the envelope. “Open it, silly, before he gets here.”

  Jessica tore open the purple envelope and found a purple and pink card covered in flowers with a sweet poem about the importance of sisters. Opening it, she gasped at the sight of a fifty-dollar gift card for Walmart. “Lindsay, you shouldn’t have spent this much.”

 

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