A Promise for Miriam

by Vannetta Chapman

  Luke looked miserable as she led him off, and Grace almost felt sorry for him, but then she remembered how many times he’d teased her and Sadie. Why were boys like that? And when did they change and become nice like Sadie’s brother John?

  “Adam, it seems to me you were as guilty as Luke. You just didn’t get caught in the way of the pie.”

  Adam stared at his shoes. He was all bluster around girls, but most of it went out of him when he was around the older boys. Grace had noticed that before.

  “Agreed?”

  “I suppose you’re right.”

  “I want you to walk back into the house and get another plate of food for Sadie.”

  “Her food is fine. We only messed with her pie.”

  “Because you started this mess, her food is now cold. You’re lucky I’m not having you bring all of us new lunches.” A murmur went through the group at that idea, and Adam stopped mumbling.

  “All right. I’ll do it.”

  “You be sure and get everything she needs, and be polite about it. If Grace needs anything, you fetch that as well.”

  “All right, John.”

  “Both of you boys will bring the girls written apologies on Monday, and there’ll be no more of this meanness. We don’t have that kind of school at Pebble Creek.”

  “All right.” Adam’s misery deepened with each all right he murmured. He turned and started out of the barn.

  “One more thing, Adam.”

  The boy turned back, maybe hoping there was something good in store, but John wasn’t finished. After all, he would graduate in the spring. He was nearly a man, and he had learned, it seemed to Grace, how to scold and punish exactly like an adult. “No joining the afternoon games until your bruder is able to join. That’s only fair.”

  Adam didn’t even protest. He pushed down his black hat more firmly on his head and walked out the barn door.

  “Come sit by us, Grace,” Lily said.

  “Before you go, I’d like to talk to the both of you.” John stepped forward and sat down across from the girls.

  Grace and Sadie moved closer together.

  “You’re not in trouble, so don’t act as if you need to protect one another, but I want to talk to you about pushing.”

  Grace reached out and clasped Sadie’s hand.

  “You’ve heard the pastor speak on our lifestyle of peace, ya?”

  Both girls nodded their heads.

  “What the boys did was wrong, but, Grace, you shouldn’t have pushed Luke. The Bible tells us to live at peace with everyone and to not take revenge. Are you old enough to know what that means?”

  Grace shook her head no. She didn’t look at Sadie, but she thought Sadie was shaking her head no too.

  “It means that we don’t strike back if someone hits us, and if someone tries to take your pie, Sadie, you let them.”

  “But, John, it was my pie—”

  “I know it was, and it was wrong of him.” John sighed. “I’m not saying that I have it all figured out either, and you’ll want to talk about this to mamm and dat, Sadie, and your dat, Grace. They can explain it better. And, Grace, I’m glad you called out so we could come help, but it isn’t our way to push. Our way is peace—always peace.”

  Grace nodded. Some little part of her had known it was wrong to push Luke, even though it had felt good. It was only that he made her so mad, and pushing him had made him stop. But what if John hadn’t stepped in when he did? Her pushing Luke might have made him even angrier.

  The entire thing confused her.

  She probably should talk to her dad about it.

  “It’s gut the boys are sorry for what they did. When Adam brings your food over, you might want to tell him you’re sorry too.”

  “Sure, John. We can do that.” Sadie let go of Grace’s hand and slipped her arm around her waist. “We’ll tell both boys together.”

  “Great idea,” John said. “Until then, you and Grace come sit with us. We didn’t see you walk in, but we sure heard Grace shout.” John smiled at them both as he began moving the group back to the middle of the room.

  It was at that moment that Hannah came in—Hannah, who had always looked out for Grace, who had been something of a big sister to her since the first day when Miriam had asked the older girl to sit with her and help her. Grace could barely see her now, surrounded as she was by all the other schoolchildren, but she could hear her, and there was no mistaking the note of worry in her voice when she said, “Is everything okay in here? I just passed Adam, and he looked as though he had a stomachache.”

  “No stomachache,” John said. “But you missed the excitement.”

  “I was stuck at the vegetable table. It’s the slowest because some of those casseroles people do not want to eat.”

  Grace started giggling, and then Sadie started giggling, though she couldn’t have known what was so funny. She couldn’t have been picturing the broccoli casserole and turnip greens, and Hannah pushing them forward to each person who passed by.

  It felt good to laugh.

  Even after the tussle, and even though Luke was sitting behind the partition without his clothes on, probably shivering like crazy. She was old enough to know that boys did stupid things and then regretted them later. Maybe she even regretted pushing him. She knew she regretted getting lost in the storm last week.

  Another thing that felt good was being part of the group.

  And if it took being bullied and then pushing down Luke Lapp and then being corrected by John for that to happen, maybe she was glad all of it had happened.

  Chapter 26

  Miriam hurried to catch up with Gabe as he made his way across to the barn. She’d been trying to have a word with him all day. If she didn’t know better, she’d suspect he was avoiding her.

  “Beautiful afternoon,” she called out to him.

  He turned and studied her for a moment—as if he was deciding whether he should wait or push on. Waiting won, and she arrived at his side a little out of breath.

  “It is,” he agreed. “Hard to believe the blizzard was just last weekend.”

  “And Christmas in one week.”

  They looked out at the bright sunshine melting the snow on Clemens Schmucker’s pastures, fences, and barns. As it did, it revealed a splendid scene. It had always been that way here at Clemens’ place—everything in pristine condition for as long as Miriam could remember. He had enough sons and hired help, and plenty of money to keep it that way.

  “Yes, Christmas in one week.” Gabe continued on toward the barn.

  “I suppose you’ll be missing your family.”

  “Both my mamm and Hope’s mamm sent a care package that arrived last week.” His eyes twinkled as he held open the barn door for her. It might have been the first time he’d mentioned Grace’s mother. She couldn’t remember. “They’re both excellent cooks, so it was nice to receive the goodies, but it won’t be the same.”

  “Spend Christmas with us.” The words were out of Miriam’s mouth before she could think to ask her parents. “It’s always a big, noisy affair with all my nieces and nephews.”

  Gabe pretended to consider the matter carefully, and then he laughed. “Your dat already asked, and I said I would—danki. Only the afternoon though. We’ll spend the morning time at home.”

  Miriam nodded as if she understood, but she couldn’t help picturing that as a lonely affair. Would it be? Or did they have their own private traditions that they kept?

  “Huh. I thought they were in here eating.” Gabe stood in the middle of the large room, turning in a circle as if that would help him find the children.

  “They went to the other barn to see the newborn animals.”

  “I heard someone mention that Clemens artificially inseminated some of his stock in order to have young goats and sheep to market all year. As conservative as your—” he stopped and corrected himself. “As conservative as our district is, I’m surprised the bishop allows him to do so.”

  “I
don’t know all the details, but I’ve heard it’s only allowed on a selective basis.”

  “Ah.”

  Miriam wondered what was included in Gabe’s ah.

  “We can walk through this barn and out the back door.”

  “Oh. How do you always seem to know where the children are?”

  “I suppose I have a sense for it, just as you have a sense for planting. For instance, I heard that earlier Grace got herself into a little skirmish.”

  Gabe turned suddenly. “What? And you didn’t come find me?”

  She immediately wished she’d phrased the news differently. “No. It wasn’t like that. What I mean to say is, Hannah came and told me afterward that Grace stood up for herself. By the time she walked in on the situation, everything was resolved, and it seemed Grace had made even more new freinden.”

  Gabe stopped for a moment and turned away from her to face a stall. When he turned back, he had a rueful grin on his face. “I’m sorry. I seem to always be jumping down your throat, and always outside of horse stalls.”

  “It’s no problem.”

  “It is. You’ve done nothing but help Grace, and I should know better than to doubt your judgment.”

  Miriam’s cheeks warmed. Why did his praise mean so much to her? It did, though, and she was pleased that his opinion of her had changed greatly since their last encounter outside a horse stall. The thought nearly made her laugh.

  “I take that smile to mean you accept my apology.”

  “Of course.”

  They continued walking. Miriam had forgotten exactly how big Schmucker’s barn was. The length seemed to extend a good quarter mile.

  “What’s it like?” she asked.

  He raised an eyebrow.

  “Having someone you care about as much as you care for Grace. I know that must sound narrisch—”

  “You care about people, Miriam.”

  “Yes, but it’s not the same.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  Now she stopped. When she did, a silver-dapple gelding came forward and stuck his head out of his stall, beckoning her. She walked over to him and began stroking him down his long, silky neck. He leaned forward more, as if he had an itch she couldn’t quite reach, and they both laughed.

  “He likes that,” Gabe said.

  “Indeed.”

  “Explain to me what you want to know.”

  Miriam took her time answering, searching for a way to put her recent aches, her recent restlessness and questions into words. “I’ve worked with many children, parents, and families. Maybe it’s that I have kept myself distant, or maybe I didn’t pay attention when I thought I did.”

  Gabe leaned against the stall and studied her, but he didn’t interrupt, so she pushed on.

  “I’ve had…single parents before.” She patted the gelding and glanced at Gabe uncertainly. “It’s only that I don’t understand what it’s like…”

  Gabe’s grin was slow and grew until his eyes nearly shut. “How could you?”

  “But—”

  “How could you know until you’ve experienced it?”

  “I understand plowing, and I haven’t plowed. I understand history, and I haven’t lived during those times. I understand—”

  Gabe raised his hand to stop the list she was determined to share. “Raising and loving a child—one who is your flesh and blood, or even one who isn’t but you’ve taken under your care nonetheless—isn’t something you can understand by reading about or even by watching.”

  Miriam fiddled with her prayer kapp, turned from the horse, and resumed walking.

  “Don’t be embarrassed,” Gabe said. “It’s a natural enough thing to ask.”

  “It’s only that...when you’re with Grace, or even when you talk of Grace, there’s an intensity about you. It’s as if you have this special thing you need to protect.”

  “I do.”

  They pushed out the back door of the barn into the fading December sunlight.

  Now they were standing directly across from the nursery barn. Instead of continuing to it, Gabe walked to the fence and studied Schmucker’s pastures.

  He understood what Miriam wanted to know. Not what she was asking, but what she truly wanted, and it tore at his heart. He’d come to care for her in the last three weeks more than he had realized. As he’d watched Aden stare at her during lunch, he’d become even more convinced of the reason for the young man’s trip home.

  It synced up with what Clemens had told him in his rough way.

  There was no doubt that Aden wanted to court Miriam King.

  Looking out at the pastures, barns, and buildings of Aden’s father, he knew he would be a fool to stand in the way.

  What did he have to offer her? A broken-down farm, an orphaned daughter, and a heart that hadn’t yet healed.

  Moreover, he honestly wasn’t sure a whole home was God’s plan for him. Perhaps he was to learn to be satisfied with the piece of happiness he had—with his daughter, a roof over his head, and good health. Reaching for more seemed selfish. He’d had more once, and he’d lost it. Did he even want to risk that happening again?

  He wasn’t sure, and he wouldn’t be bringing any of that up in their conversation.

  Instead, he turned to her and tried to answer the other part of her question, the surface part, the part that spoke to her desire to have a boppli of her own. Maybe a desire she didn’t even recognize yet, but he saw it in her face every time she paused to help Grace.

  “It seems to me there are many things you can earn…a gut farm, respect of people you work with, even the love of a man or woman.” She gazed at him as if she were hanging on his every word, and that bothered him. He didn’t need anyone looking at him with such adoration. He knew too well how certain it was that he would mess up—not once but many times.

  Looking out over the pasture again, he prayed for the words, the right words that would help Miriam see what God wanted her to see. When he turned back, he held his hands together, as if he were cupping water from a stream. “The love of a child, your own child, comes to you all at once—like a package on Christmas afternoon. You want to hold it to you, to treasure it and protect it, but that child is much like water.”

  He spread his hands apart slightly.

  “You can’t hold it,” she whispered.

  “No. Much as you try, you can’t. The child grows, faster than you would believe possible—as quickly as water slips through your fingers.”

  She moved next to him. They both stood there, looking out toward the western fields.

  “Perhaps that’s what you notice when you see me looking at Grace. You see me trying to pour my love over her as she slips through my fingers.”

  His eyes met hers for the briefest of moments, and he had a nearly overwhelming desire to reach out and touch her, to soothe the worried look on her face.

  But he didn’t.

  They walked toward the nursery barn then, and when Gabe opened the door, the sounds of laughing children stole away the somberness of the moment.

  “Mamm never explained it that way,” Miriam admitted. “She only said having a boppli was a terrible pain for a few hours but worth it in the end.”

  Gabe grunted. “Your mother is a practical woman.”

  “Maybe that’s whom I take after.”

  “And your dat?”

  Miriam smiled as Grace ran up to them, grabbed both of their hands, and whispered, “Come see.”

  “Dat pretends to be practical, but deep inside I believe he’s a dreamer.”

  “Perhaps you are a combination of both.” Gabe fought to keep the lightness in his voice, but if the first barn and the grounds hadn’t convinced him of what he should and shouldn’t do, the nursery barn certainly did.

  He saw pens, stalls, feeding and watering troughs, and good ventilation. And, of course, everything was solidly constructed.

  Miriam King deserved the best, and there was no doubt in his mind—from all he was seeing and everything h
e had heard—that Aden Schmucker was the man who could give it to her.

  Chapter 27

  It feels like he’s avoiding me.” Miriam held up the shawl she was knitting for her mother and studied it in the lamplight. She had chosen to use a triangle pattern that measured fifty-six inches across. A fast knitter, Miriam knew she could finish it before Christmas.

  Her mother wouldn’t have needed a new shawl, but Pepper had destroyed her favorite one a month ago.

  Miriam had slipped out the back door to use the outhouse and neglected to shut the door tightly. Pepper had snuck inside and proceeded to climb into the rocker and make a nest on top of the shawl. If that wasn’t bad enough, he’d pawed a big hole into the middle of it. Her mother hadn’t made a fuss, but Miriam had seen the fire in her eyes when she’d ordered the dog out!

  A new shawl for Christmas was the least she could do, and the blue and brown yarns were beautiful.

  The trouble wasn’t with the pattern or the yarn. The trouble was with her knitting.

  “Problem with that shawl?” Esther asked.

  “Ya. I dropped another stitch. In fact, I dropped several.” Miriam sighed and began unraveling the last row.

  “Maybe you’re distracted.”

  “I am distracted. I’m telling you, Esther. Gabe Miller is avoiding me.”

  “Did he pick up Grace after her speech lesson?” Esther moved the light so she could better see her embroidery. With Christmas only six days away, they both had several projects to finish. Needless to say, neither was assigning homework that would require grading.

  “He did, but he didn’t even get out of the buggy. He waited outside.”

  “Maybe he was in a hurry.”

  “That was the first time he waited outside, though. He always comes in to talk about how she’s doing.”

  “How is she doing?”

  “Terrific.” Miriam dropped the knitting needles in her lap. “It’s remarkable how much she’s improved in such a short time.”

  “Gotte is gut,” Esther murmured.

  They continued working in silence a few moments before Miriam brought up the subject again. “I think it’s because of the conversation we had on Sunday.”