A Place of Peace

by Amy Clipston

  “Ya,” Miriam said. “Danki, Elizabeth.”

  Elizabeth patted her shoulder as she headed back to the center of the kitchen.

  Miriam hummed her favorite hymns while she worked in the corner of the kitchen alone all morning long, baking four crumbly peach pies and then four dozen sugar cookies.

  She was deep in thought, comparing her life in Indiana to her life in Pennsylvania, when a tap on her shoulder surprised her. She turned to find Beth Anne smiling at her.

  “You’ve been working nonstop for hours,” Beth Anne said. “Are you ready to take a lunch break?”

  Miriam shrugged. “I’m ready anytime. There’s no rush.”

  “I made some turkey sandwiches.” Beth Anne nodded toward the other side of the kitchen, where the office and the playroom/nap room for the children were. “The sandwiches are in the office around the corner. You can sit at the little table by the desk and eat if you’d like. There’s some ice water in the refrigerator.”

  “Danki.” Miriam wiped her hands on a towel.

  “I should be thanking you,” Beth Anne said. “You’re doing a fabulous job. We’re so glad to have you.”

  “Kathryn isn’t,” Miriam said, staring at the pretty blonde across the kitchen talking to Lindsay. “She’s done nothing but glare at me all day. I wonder if this was a mistake.”

  “No.” Beth Anne shook her head with emphasis. “Kathryn means well. She’s just defending Timothy because you broke his heart. But she’ll come around and realize that the past is the past, and it was God’s will that you and Timothy didn’t marry.”

  Miriam’s eyebrows careened upward while her mouth fell open. I broke Timothy’s heart? I think you have it backward.

  “I’ll talk to Kathryn,” Beth Anne said. “Don’t worry about her. Her bark is worse than her bite.” She waved toward the office. “Go on and enjoy your lunch. I’ll finish these cookies.”

  Miriam contemplated Beth Anne’s comment while eating her turkey sandwich and glancing through The Budget, the Amish newspaper. Beth Anne’s remarks didn’t make any sense. Why would she say Miriam broke Timothy’s heart when it was Timothy who had cheated on her?

  The questions were still twirling through her head when she cleaned the table and then headed back toward the kitchen. She stopped near the doorway when she heard a familiar masculine voice.

  Her heart thumped in her chest when she entered the kitchen and found Timothy standing with Elizabeth, Beth Anne, and the young woman from the funeral. With his back to Miriam, he forked a piece of one of her crumbly peach pies into his mouth.

  “Wunderbaar!” he exclaimed. “Beth Anne, you outdid yourself this time. This is the best crumbly peach pie I’ve had in a very long time.” He chewed more. “I mean no offense, but this is better than the one you brought me the other night. I’m not sure what you did differently, but it’s sweeter.”

  Miriam’s eyes widened.

  “I didn’t make it.” A sly smile grew on Beth Anne’s lips as she met Miriam’s horrified gaze. “I can’t take credit for it, Bruder.”

  “No?” He glanced at Elizabeth. “Then you must’ve made it. We all know you’re the best baker.”

  Elizabeth snickered. “There’s no need to flatter me, Timothy. You know I’ll give you one dozen whoopie pies to take back to your dat. And besides, I didn’t make the crumbly peach pies.”

  “Kathryn?” His voice nearly squeaked with disbelief. “She hates peaches. I can’t see her making these.”

  “It wasn’t Kathryn, nor was it your nieces. And you’re not going to guess.” Beth Anne’s grin widened, and Miriam fought the urge to run and hide in the office.

  Looking confused, Timothy set the plate on the counter. “You bought it at the supermarket?”

  Miriam held her breath and then glanced at the door. If she ran now, she could make it to her car and speed from the parking lot before she had to face him.

  “No.” Beth Anne gestured toward Miriam, standing behind him. “She made them.”

  Timothy turned toward the direction of Beth Anne’s nod. He faced Miriam, and his eyes widened to the size of saucers.

  Miriam’s cheeks heated and her pulse raced. She wanted to run and avoid another gut-wrenching staring contest like they’d shared at the funeral.

  “Miriam’s working for us now,” Elizabeth said. “We’re shorthanded at the bakery, and as you can see with peach pies, she’s a wunderbaar baker.”

  Timothy’s stunned gaze never left Miriam. She tried to smile, but her lips formed a pained grimace instead.

  “Miriam Lapp?” the young woman asked, stepping over to Miriam and sticking out her hand. “I’m Naomi King. I’m gut friends with your sister Lilly.”

  Miriam shook her hand. “Nice to meet you,” she managed to whisper while feeling Timothy’s eyes burrowing into her. She then glanced toward Elizabeth. “I best get back to work. I have to make more cookies.”

  With Timothy’s gaze boring into her back, she crossed the kitchen.

  Timothy watched Miriam cross the kitchen. Had he heard his mother correctly? Miriam was working in the bakery? She was employed by his mother?

  He glanced at Elizabeth. “She’s working here?”

  “Ya.” Elizabeth beamed. “She’s an excellent baker, and we need her help.”

  “Naomi,” Kathryn called, stepping into the kitchen from the front. “Wie geht’s? How’s your mamm?”

  Naomi stepped over to speak to Kathryn, and Beth Anne moved closer to Timothy.

  “You should go talk to her,” Beth Anne said. “She’s very self-conscious about being here.”

  “As well she should be,” he seethed, glaring at his sister. Anger coursed through him. “I know this was your idea, and I’m not happy about it.”

  “I agreed to it, too,” Elizabeth cut in. “And Beth Anne is right—you should go speak to her. Start a conversation, so you two can work this out.”

  “There’s nothing to work out.” He cut his gaze across the kitchen to where Miriam was leaning on the counter reading a cookbook. She was so beautiful in her black frock.

  But she broke my heart into a million pieces. She has no right to be in Mamm’s bakery.

  “Go speak to her,” Elizabeth said. “Remember what Jesus teaches us about forgiveness.”

  Timothy frowned at Elizabeth. “I’ll go speak to her.” He then turned to Beth Anne. “This isn’t over. We’ll talk about this later.”

  “That’s fine.” She shrugged, her disregard of his feelings causing his anger to spark.

  “Go, Timothy. Speak to her. Reach out to her. You’ll be glad you did.” Elizabeth gave him a gentle push in Miriam’s direction.

  His heart thumped in his chest as he strode over to Miriam. Standing on the opposite side of the long work counter, he watched her read the recipes. When she glanced up and met his gaze, her deep chocolate eyes widened, and she drew a sharp breath.

  “Sorry,” he muttered, running his fingers over the wood counter his father had built more than twenty years ago. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  She bit her bottom lip and nodded, as if to say it was okay.

  He cleared his throat, at a loss for words, and she watched him, hesitation clouding her eyes.

  “I’m sorry about your mamm,” he finally said. “She was a nice fraa.”

  “Danki,” she whispered, her voice still the sweet lilt he remembered.

  “You look well.” He absently continued to trace his fingers over the counter.

  She nodded. “You do too.”

  The silence hung in the area between them like a dense fog.

  “Timothy,” Naomi called while holding two large boxes, which he assumed were the whoopie pies his father had requested. “We better go. My mamm runs a tight ship. We’ve been gone close to an hour.”

  “Ya,” he said to Naomi. He turned back to Miriam, who eyed him with an anxious expression. He wished he could read her mind. He needed to know why she’d left. What had he done to make her leav
e him? Was it simply her yearning to experience the English world and follow her dream of being a nurse? Was it to pursue another man? Or was it something else —something he’d done wrong?

  “Good-bye,” he told her.

  She nodded without speaking.

  He then crossed the kitchen to Naomi. After saying good-bye to his sisters and mother, he led Naomi to the buggy.

  He stared out the windshield and contemplated Miriam while steering down Gibbons Road toward Highway 340. Anger mixed with regret flowed through him. He was angry with Beth Anne and his mother, since he couldn’t comprehend why they would consider hiring Miriam.

  Unless it was part of Beth Anne’s plan to honor God’s will and help Timothy move on.

  He groaned.

  Elizabeth had won today, forcing him to talk to Miriam. However, she couldn’t force him to “work things out” when there wasn’t anything to work out. Miriam had left him—end of story.

  “Timothy Kauffman, you’re going to answer me if it’s the last thing you do.” Naomi’s demand jerked him back to the present.

  “I’m sorry,” he muttered. “What were you saying?”

  “I was asking you to come to supper tomorrow night, but now I’m reconsidering my invitation.” She folded her arms across her chest in defiance. “You’ve got that same million-miles-away expression like you had at the funeral.”

  Guilt nipped at him. He needed to treat Naomi better, but Miriam was a distraction over which he had no control. Now that he was with Naomi, he needed to shut off any thoughts of Miriam and concentrate only on Naomi.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “Please repeat what you were saying about supper tomorrow night. What time would you like me there?”

  For the first time since he’d known Naomi, she was silent.

  And the silence was unnerving.

  Something’s wrong.

  He glanced over and found her staring out the window. “Naomi?”

  Still no answer.

  He reached for her, brushing her shoulder, but she moved away from his touch.

  “Naomi,” he said. “I’m sorry if I’ve hurt you.”

  Finally, she faced him, tears steaming down her face.

  “Naomi?” He steered to the side of the road and halted the horse. “What’s wrong?”

  “I figured it out.” Her voice quavered. “You love her!”

  “What?” He shook his head, confused. “I love who?”

  “Her!” She pointed in the direction of the bakery. “Miriam! You love her!”

  “What?” His eyebrows knitted together. “You’re talking narrisch. I don’t love her.”

  “Yes, you do!” She wiped her eyes with the backs of her hands. “Lilly told me who Miriam is. She broke up with you four years ago.” More tears spilled from her eyes. “It all makes sense now!” She gestured wildly for emphasis. “That’s why you stopped talking to me at the funeral and why you became quiet just now. Oh, I’m such a fool.” Burying her face in her hands, Naomi sobbed.

  Timothy leaned over and rubbed her back. “It’s true that I did court her, but it’s also true that she left. I don’t love her, Naomi. I’m sorry I’ve been quiet. I just have a lot on my mind.”

  “Ya, you do—her!”

  “No, that’s not true, Naomi.” He sighed, wishing he could take her pain away.

  “Then why aren’t you courting me?”

  He blanched, surprised by the direct question.

  “My mamm says you’re leading me on and using me.” She cleared her throat. “I told her you were just taking your time. But after seeing how you behave around Miriam, I’m starting to agree with Mamm.” Her lip quivered and her eyes filled with more tears.

  He swallowed a groan. Today was not the day for her to demand a declaration of his feelings for her. His heart was a mess after seeing Miriam. He had too much to comprehend. Figuring out his feelings for Naomi would only be the tip of the iceberg.

  Taking a deep breath, he touched her face, wiping a tear from her cheek. Her expression softened at his touch.

  “Naomi, I care deeply for you. You’ve been a dear and special freind to me.” He forced a smile. “I intend to treat you right. I’m just not ready to make any promises right now.”

  “I won’t wait forever, Timothy. I’m not getting any younger, and I want kinner.”

  He nodded. “That’s fair. I just ask that you give me a little more time.”

  She turned toward the windshield. “We better get back. Mamm will send out a search party for me.”

  He flipped the reins and the horse came to life, clip-clopping down the road. Glancing over, he found Naomi still staring out the windshield. “Are you angry with me, Naomi?”

  She shook her head.

  “We’re still freinden?”

  “Ya,” she said, flashing him a coy smile.

  Turning back toward the road, he frowned. He was going to give Beth Anne and his mother a piece of his mind as soon as he left work tonight.

  10

  Timothy stalked up the stairs leading to his parents’ porch and marched into the kitchen, where he found his sisters and parents eating supper. Nieces and nephews raced around the kitchen, laughing and shrieking.

  “Timothy!” his mother exclaimed. “I’m so glad you came in time for supper.”

  “I’m not hungry,” he said, folding his arms in front of his chest. “I’d like to speak with you and Beth Anne—alone.”

  Beth Anne shot Elizabeth an apprehensive look.

  “What’s this about?” Sadie, his oldest brother’s wife, asked, her eyes wide with excitement. Timothy was certain Sadie hoped the subject would be worthy of gossip at her next quilting circle.

  “Timothy wanted to discuss how we’d like the porch fixed at the bakery,” Elizabeth said, proving how fast she was on her toes.

  Beth Anne’s lips formed a smile that she quickly shielded with her hand.

  “Let’s go to the front porch,” Elizabeth said, steering Timothy through the den to the foyer. “That way we can talk without competing with the kinner’s voices.”

  “I’m not going to miss this,” Kathryn muttered, shuffling in line behind Beth Anne.

  Once Elizabeth and his sisters were seated in the porch chairs, he leaned back on the railing and glared at them.

  “What were you thinking, Beth Anne?” he demanded, gesturing with his arms. “You know I’ve been trying for four years to put her out of my mind, and yet you parade her in front of me at the bakery. It doesn’t make sense. I spent all afternoon turning it over and over in my mind while I was working, and I can’t get any logic out of it. You need to keep your nose in your own relationships and stay out of my life.”

  Beth Anne flinched and then glowered. “There’s plenty of logic in it, Timothy. You just said you’ve been trying for four years to get her out of your mind. It’s obvious you need help to do it, and speaking with her is the only solution.”

  Frustrated, he rubbed his temple and groaned. “You don’t understand. Putting her in my face stirred it up all over again.”

  “See, I was right.” Kathryn gave a smug smile and crossed her legs. “I told them not to, but those two"—she pointed between Elizabeth and Beth Anne—"never listen to me. They do their own thing, and look where it got them.”

  “Timothy, you need to let go of this anger and let God sort through it for you,” Elizabeth said.

  Lacing his fingers behind his head, Timothy swallowed a sigh. His mother had the strongest faith he’d ever known, but sometimes he wanted her to just keep it to herself. He’d prayed many, many times, asking for the Lord to unburden his soul, and yet, Miriam continued to haunt his dreams—both during the day and at night. Praying just wasn’t going to do it for him.

  “You know what I always say, Timothy,” Elizabeth continued.

  “'Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer,'” he replied, letting his hands drop to his sides. “I know, Mamm, I know.”

  Elizabeth gave him a
soft sigh of disappointment. “You say you know, and yet you still look at me as if I’m narrisch.”

  “I never said you were crazy.” He glanced across the field to where his youngest nieces and nephews were chasing each other. A rumble of thunder in the distance snapped his gaze to the sky, where dark clouds crept across the horizon. “I just need to work through this in my own way,” he said, turning back to her. “You can’t force me.”

  Elizabeth nodded. “You’re right. However, Miriam is a good baker, and we need her help. She’s going to work there whether you and Kathryn like it or not.”

  Kathryn shook her head. “I won’t like it.”

  Beth Anne rolled her eyes. “You’re so immature. Sometimes I forget you’re my older sister.”

  Timothy stood up straight and glanced down the driveway, where he spotted Sarah Rose, his younger sister, and her fiancé, Luke, walking slowly up the driveway holding her seven-month-old twins. Sarah Rose stopped, turned to her fiancé, and gave him a loving smile.

  Seeing that tender moment caused something deep in Timothy’s soul to somersault.

  Maybe they’re right. Maybe I do need to talk to Miriam—face-to-face—and find out the truth.

  “I need to go.” He loped down the stairs and headed for his buggy.

  “Where are you going?” Beth Anne called after him.

  Ignoring the question, he increased his speed, not stopping to greet Sarah Rose and her family.

  Miriam moved back and forth on the porch swing while clutching a cool glass of water and watching the ominous clouds creep across the sky. Thunder rumbled in the distance.

  Taking a sip of water, she reflected on her first day of work. Overall, the day had gone well, and when Edna asked if she had liked it, Miriam had to admit that she had. She’d enjoyed making the traditional dishes. Some were her favorites, and some were new. Elizabeth, Beth Anne, and the children had made Miriam feel welcome with their smiles and their compliments on her baking.

  Her only negative experience was connected with Kathryn and her disapproving looks. It was obvious Kathryn blamed her for the breakup with Timothy, and Miriam wished she could convince Kathryn that it wasn’t that simple. While Miriam had wanted to experience the English world, she also left because Timothy had broken her heart. It seemed that Kathryn had the scenario backward if she blamed Miriam for hurting Timothy.