A Promise for Miriam

by Vannetta Chapman

  “The one about babies?”

  “What other conversation would I be talking about?” Miriam threw her friend an exasperated look.

  “Oh, I don’t know. I thought maybe you talked about crops or weather, or maybe even who the new minister might be since the Kiems family is moving in the spring.”

  “Esther Schrocks, if I didn’t know better I’d think you were teasing me.”

  “And what’s to tease?” Esther pulled the black thread from her needle and changed it for a pretty yellow-gold. “It would be normal for you to take a liking to Gabe Miller. He’s a gut-looking man and he has a fine dochder.”

  “Is that what you think this is about?” Miriam gave up any pretense of knitting. She dropped the balls of yarn and the needles into her basket and stood. She suddenly needed to move, even if it only meant walking around their small upstairs apartment.

  “What do you think it’s about? Worry over missing a parent meeting you never even scheduled?”

  Miriam stopped in her pacing, walked back to her chair, and perched on the edge of it. “I’m worried he thought I was baiting him, as I’ve sometimes seen girls do, with my questions about bopplin and families and all. I don’t even know what came over me. Why would I ask him such a thing? There are plenty of women in my family I could have asked.”

  “But you didn’t want their perspective. You wanted his.” Esther glanced up from her needlework and smiled. Miriam found herself envying the young woman—there was such simple contentment in her expression.

  “When did you become the wise one?” she asked softly.

  “I’d hardly call me wise, but when you’re first in lieb, it’s like walking across the fields on a foggy day.”

  “I would not say I’m in lieb—”

  “And when there are two men involved, things are doubly complicated.”

  “Now you sound narrisch.” Miriam picked up her knitting and resumed with the speed of the freight trucks that sped down the Cashton highways.

  “I do?”

  “You do.”

  “Yet there are two men troubling your heart, and it’s best to admit it.” Miriam waved her words away, but Esther continued. “You blush when I mention Gabe, yet you rode home from the singing with Aden.”

  “You know very well I accepted a ride with Aden because my bruder abandoned me.”

  “Mm-hmm.”

  “Abandoned might be a strong word, but Simon wished to be alone with Emma, and I hated to deny them a private buggy ride.”

  “Kind of you.”

  “I didn’t even intend to stay for the singing. It seems I was tricked into that. I helped with the dinner cleanup, turned around, and my parents were gone. Gabe and Grace were also gone.”

  “Would you have ridden with them?”

  Miriam ignored the last question. “David and Noah were gone with their families as well, so then I had to stay.”

  “I’ll bet you were heartbroken.”

  “I wasn’t looking forward to it, though in the end it wasn’t as bad as I expected.”

  Esther stood and stretched. “I can’t remember the last time you stayed for singing. It was good to have you there. I know for a fact that several men were watching you. Would you care to know who?”

  “I would not.”

  “Oh, Miriam. Are you not the least bit interested?”

  “They are boys, Esther. You’re forgetting my age.”

  “Except for Aden.”

  Miriam slowed in her knitting, tugged fiercely on the ball of blue yarn, and then increased her speed to make up for her slack. “Except for Aden. I hope I didn’t lead him on by staying and by accepting the buggy ride.”

  “A buggy ride isn’t a promise.” Esther walked to their kitchen and set the kettle on the back of the stove.

  The night grew quiet around them. When Esther returned with two mugs of hot tea, she asked softly, “They’re both nice men, ya?”

  Miriam didn’t answer her. She only sipped her tea and then returned to her knitting with a vengeance.

  Little learning took place at school the rest of the week. By Thursday preparations for the Christmas program seemed to be consuming their every minute. Miriam was grateful Esther had taken over the planning of this year’s program. After eight years of teaching, she needed some fresh ideas, and Esther had plenty.

  She handed the younger teacher her collected materials from previous years and told her to shout if she needed help. This was their third year to teach together. As Miriam watched her direct the students in decorating the schoolroom, she realized anew how much she would miss her the next school year. She was happy for her and excited about her upcoming marriage, and she trusted that God would provide another assistant teacher.

  But change was always difficult.

  Well…maybe not always.

  Change in the Christmas presentation was a good thing. Esther’s ideas were fresh and fun but still in line with their commitment to simplicity and maintaining the correct focus on the proper meaning of the holiday.

  “Do you like our snowflakes?” Lily held up a light blue sheet of paper. Grace and Sadie popped up next to her, each holding several blue snowflakes. The younger children had been cutting decorations for the last hour. Last year Miriam had them cut snowflakes from white paper and all one size, but Esther had thought to vary the sizes, from small enough to fit in the palm of your hand to a full sheet of paper.

  The effect was dazzling.

  “It’s wunderbaar.”

  “Mine too?” Grace asked, her voice a bit stronger than the day before.

  “Yours too. Do you need help putting them in the windows?”

  “I’ll help them.” Adam Lapp stepped up with a roll of tape and a stepstool. When they both turned to look at him in surprise, he added, “It’s my assigned task. Plus I wasn’t very gut at cutting.”

  “Danki, Adam.”

  The boy had certainly settled down in the last week. Miriam had an idea it had something to do with whatever happened in the barn at the Schmuckers’, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to know the details. As the three moved off toward the nearest window, Miriam remembered that she needed to speak with Grace.

  “Grace, can you come back over here for a moment?”

  Handing her snowflakes to Sadie, Grace hurried to Miriam’s side.

  “Do you remember when I asked you to think of ways you could help with the program?”

  “Ya.” The girl’s kapp strings bounced as she nodded her head.

  “You did a fine job on your drawings.”

  “Danki.”

  “And I’m very pleased you’ve decided to sing with the students in your grade.”

  Grace’s smile was all the answer Miriam needed.

  “I was wondering, however, if there was one more thing I could ask of you. One of the girls still hasn’t regained her voice from being sick on Monday, and I was thinking—”

  As she whispered her request, Grace’s eyes grew wider and her cheeks pinked, but she didn’t even hesitate. She accepted the slip of paper from Miriam’s hand, nodded again, and hurried away to Sadie’s side. Heads together, she shared with her friend her newest assignment.

  Was she pushing her? Perhaps, but Miriam’s instincts told her it would be for the best.

  Things were coming together as they should. A few of the middle-grade students stood at the front, practicing the lines for a skit.

  Esther was helping Hannah draw a welcome greeting on the blackboard.

  Four of the older boys trooped in through the front door, and Miriam turned to see Efram Hochstetler standing there, waiting for her.

  “I have your extra benches. Set them up in the usual place?”

  “Yes, that will be fine. Danki.”

  “It’s no problem. The children look as if they are ready for the program. Maybe you can give them tomorrow off,” he teased.

  “Oh, we’re not ready yet,” Esther said, passing by holding a beard in one hand and a tail in the other.


  “Need help?” Miriam asked.

  “No, I think we have this.”

  “She wants to do it on her own,” Hannah explained as two of the students crowded after her. “But Luke’s beard won’t stay put, and he’s supposed to be an old man in the skit.”

  “What’s with the tail?” Efram asked.

  “Donkey. Someone stepped on it, and it came off. I should go help.”

  Miriam turned to find that the boys had already placed the extra benches against the side walls and along the back.

  At least there would be a place for everyone to sit, and she knew from past years they would need it. The room would be packed with parents, family, students, and teachers from neighboring schools.

  She would see Gabe then. At least she didn’t think he’d try to sneak away. She had begun to question if he would still show up at her parents’ for the afternoon meal on Christmas Day.

  It could be she was overanalyzing what had happened on Tuesday. Grace had climbed into the buggy, and he’d set the horse off at a trot before she’d managed to walk out of the schoolhouse door.

  It could be he had work that needed tending back at his farm. Images of his farm brought a smile to her face. Yes, there were plenty of things that needed his attention there, though hurrying wouldn’t take care of them all. That would take many months and careful planning.

  It could be she’d imagined his brusqueness and the way he’d looked at her before glancing away.

  But she didn’t think so, and if there was one thing she’d learned over the years, it was to trust her intuition.

  The other thing she’d learned was that time would tell.

  What she still hadn’t learned was to be patient.

  Chapter 28

  Gabe put on his Sunday clothes, though it felt odd to do so on a Friday evening. He checked his reflection in the mirror, making sure he’d shaved correctly. He was thirty-two years old, and he’d been shaving since he was seventeen, though he could have easily waited a year or two past that.

  He still remembered his father teaching him how to do so properly and explaining to him their traditions. Why he needed to be clean shaven until he married, and why, once he was married, he would no longer shave—except for the mustache area. No Amish man would have a mustache because that facial feature had a long history of being associated with the military. Being Plain meant standing for peace in every way.

  Peace was one of the cornerstones of their life, and yet so often it seemed elusive in his heart.

  Gabe ran his hand along his jaw, combing down his beard with his fingers and then checking the area over his lip. There was one place he tended to miss, on the left side. He ran his finger lightly over the spot, felt the stubble, and smiled. Hope had always teased him about that spot.

  Hope.

  Always Hope at every corner.

  He shaved the stubble, tossed the towel over the basin, and went in search of Grace.

  She was downstairs, tapping her shoe against the hardwood floor, her coat already on and her present for Miriam beneath her arm.

  “Ready?”

  “Ya.”

  “Excited about the program?”

  “Ya.”

  “Guess it’s turned out to be a pretty gut school year.”

  “Uh-huh.” She skipped through the late afternoon as they made their way to the buggy.

  “Glad we moved here?” he asked.

  She shrugged. “I miss mammi Sarah.”

  “I do too. Up you go.” He helped her into the buggy and then climbed in after her.

  “I like school.” Her voice was still gravelly, still soft, but at least she was sharing her thoughts, and for that he was grateful. That was a huge improvement over their situation back home in Indiana.

  Would she have talked again if they were still there? Maybe.

  Or maybe it had been Miriam’s doing, which wouldn’t have happened unless he’d moved here to Pebble Creek.

  The last possibility was that it was God’s doing, Gotte’s wille, that he and Grace be here at Pebble Creek, that they be in this community, and that Miriam be a part of their lives.

  Guilt gnawed at his stomach.

  He’d been wrong to treat her rudely three days before, but she couldn’t have known how beautiful she looked standing in the doorway of the little schoolhouse. And Sunday outside Schmucker’s barn had nearly been his undoing. Gabe had been surprised when she’d brought up the subject of babies, but once he’d gone home, once he’d lain in the dark and replayed the conversation, it all made sense to him.

  Miriam had too much to offer someone not to marry, and he wasn’t talking only about her outer beauty. He was referring to her heart, her way with children, and her attitude toward life. Perhaps she’d been hiding away in the schoolhouse up until now. But something had awakened her.

  Maybe Grace had awakened her.

  Whatever it was, it had brought a blush to her cheek and questions to her heart.

  Questions that he had tried to answer on Sunday, but he dared not answer any more. It created a false intimacy between them that wasn’t proper. Best that he keep his distance. Best that he let her find her answers with Aden Schmucker.

  He’d attend the Christmas program because it meant so much to his daughter.

  And he’d go to Christmas dinner at her parents’ house because he’d already told Joshua and Abigail that he would. It would not be neighborly to back out now. And there was the matter of picking up Grace’s gift. After the holidays, though, he would distance himself from Miriam King.

  It wasn’t until his daughter tugged on his coat sleeve that he realized he was driving past the little schoolhouse full of buggies. There were even three Englisch cars parked out front. He’d expected a big crowd to be there for the children’s presentation, and he was right. Looking at Grace’s face, he didn’t have to guess how excited she was.

  As he called out to Chance and turned the buggy around, worries about Miriam fell away. He resolved to enjoy the evening. Time was fleeting. He knew that all too soon that Grace would be out of school, off courting, and then one day having children of her own.

  It was important that he remembered to slow down and enjoy the moment.

  Tomorrow would provide enough time to deal with its own trouble.

  Ninety minutes later he found himself standing and joining in a Christmas hymn. It had been the best school presentation he’d ever seen, and he’d seen a few. He’d attended the programs that his nieces and nephews participated in every year. He remembered his own as well. Tonight the children had done an excellent job.

  He was sure Miriam and Esther had done quite a bit of directing, though they were not part of the actual program. He thought perhaps Esther was behind the curtain hung at the front of the room to separate the children who were preparing to perform next from those who were reciting. One of the smaller children—one younger than Grace—had called out to her at the beginning, ducking her head under the curtain. An older student had pulled her back into line and helped her with her part in the skit.

  After that, things had gone smoothly, other than the scene with the donkey. First the donkey’s tail fell off. Not to be deterred, the lad playing Joseph had picked it up and thrown it over his shoulder as if it belonged there. The Christmas story continued along its correct path until the girl who was Mary tried to slide off the donkey and tripped, causing both parts of the donkey to fall over and Mary to take a tumble, nearly wiping out Joseph.

  The audience took it all in stride, perhaps seeing it as one of Christ’s first trials, and the students went right on with their lines, which was the only part of the program recited in High German—the passage coming straight from the Gospel of Luke.

  He couldn’t help being especially proud of Grace. Not only were her drawings a special part of the props for several scenes, but she also sang in one number and recited a line in another. True, her voice was soft and he had to strain to hear her, but she stood there proudly and spok
e as if she wasn’t nervous at all. He’d be writing home about the entire program in his weekly letter.

  Gabe was also impressed with how clean and festive the schoolroom looked—blue snowflakes taped in the windows, winter drawings posted around the room, and a detailed welcome scene chalked on the front board. It seemed they had used everything at their disposal to make the crowd feel welcome, and there was quite a crowd. He was lucky to snag a corner of a bench next to Eli and his family.

  Once the final note of singing faded away, the members of the school board stepped forward and thanked the students, teachers, and audience for coming. They wished the group a blessed Christmas and then invited everyone to enjoy the refreshments set up in the coatroom.

  “One last thing,” Samuel Gingerich said, stepping forward. Gabe remembered him as the father of Lily, one of the little girls who played with Grace on Sundays after church. He realized now that he must be on the school board. Bishop Beiler stood next to him, as did Clemens Schmucker. Beiler moved to the center of the room to explain.

  “The parents wanted to present both teachers with a Christmas gift. Would both of you ladies come forward, please?”

  Esther came out from behind the curtain, and Miriam stood up from her place in the third row. They met together at the side of the podium. Gabe couldn’t help smiling. They looked so uncomfortable, and yet they stood at the front of the room every day.

  “Esther, I believe the younger children are bringing in your gift now.” Coming up the left aisle, four of the students carried a quilt. “The ladies have explained to me that the quilt contains a patch done by each family represented at the school, and across the top is a picture of Pebble Creek school done in appliqué.”

  There was a round of applause as Esther accepted the quilt and hugged it to her chest.

  “We needed some of the older boys to bring in your gift, Miriam. The school board and the parents appreciate another fine term of service from you, and we wanted to express that gratitude with something special, so we had—”

  Gabe was watching Miriam. He saw her hand go to her throat, heard her “Oh, my,” and was aware that Beiler had stopped speaking.