A Merry Heart (16 page)

Pete pulled out the chair across from Nick and sat down. “The child’s aunt phoned yesterday evening after you’d left to do that story about the drug bust on the other side of town.”

“Miriam called? Did she ask for me?”

Pete nodded. “Fran took the call, but since you weren’t in your office and the woman on the phone mentioned the article you had written, Fran forwarded the call to me.”

“So what did Miriam say?”

Pete thumped the article with the tip of his pen and frowned. “She was upset and said you knew how the Amish feel about having their pictures taken, yet you sneaked into
her niece’s hospital room and snapped a picture of her anyway, without asking the family’s permission.” He gave the newspaper another quick tap. “I thought the article was well-written, but I’d like you to do a follow-up story and include an apology for that picture you used.”

A
s Miriam sat at the kitchen table, reading the newspaper one evening, she thought about Nick and how he’d let her down by writing that article on Rebekah and including a picture with it. Had she really been so naive as to believe he was different than other men? To think that she’d nearly phoned him to ask if they might meet again for coffee. She promised never again to allow her emotions to get in the way of good judgment.

Rebekah had been in the hospital for nearly three weeks already, and Miriam knew the medical bills were adding up. She had a little money put aside from her teaching position, which she would give to Andrew to use toward the mounting bills. She also planned to sell the beautiful quilts she had made for her hope chest at one of the firemen’s benefit auctions, which were known as “mud sales” because they were held in the early spring when the ground was still muddy. Since Miriam never planned to marry, the quilts were useless to her, anyway. Tourists were always on the lookout for items made by the Amish, so she was sure she would have no trouble selling the quilts to the general store in town if they
didn’t sell during one of the mud sales.

Miriam was aware that several other Amish families had given money to help with Rebekah’s hospital bills, and it made her thankful she belonged to a group of people who helped one another in times of need.

“I think I’ll hire Gladys to drive me to the hospital tomorrow so I can see Rebekah again,” Miriam said, glancing at her mother, who sat across the table, reading her Bible. “Would you like to go along?”

Mom looked up and smiled. “I appreciate the offer, but I went this morning with Sarah. Barbara Nyce, the Mennonite woman she usually hires, took us there.”

Miriam frowned. “How come you didn’t mention it earlier? I would think you would have wanted to give us a report.”

“I did say something to Lewis about it when he came to the house at noon, but when you came home from school today, you said you had a headache and needed to lie down, so I didn’t mention it.”

“I see. How was Rebekah doing?”

“As well as can be expected. Her spirits are up, and that’s a good thing.”

Miriam released a heavy sigh. “How I wish the doctors had been wrong about her not being able to use her legs. It won’t be easy for that sweet little girl to spend the rest of her life confined to a wheelchair, relying on others to do everything for her.”

Mom clucked her tongue. “That’s not true. There are many things Rebekah can do while she’s sitting down.”

Miriam opened her mouth to comment, but her mother rushed on.

“The child has a determined spirit, and I don’t think she will let her handicap keep her from living life to the fullest.”

Miriam folded her arms and leaned on the table. “Thanks to me being foolish enough to let her go outside, she’ll only be living half a life.”

Mom shook her head and looked hard at Miriam. “I wish you would stop being so negative.”

“I’m not being negative; I’m just facing the truth.”

“The truth is you have a lot to learn about how God wants us to live, and unless you allow Him to fill your heart with joy and love, I’m afraid you’ll be living less of a life than my crippled granddaughter.”

Mom’s harsh words pricked Miriam’s heart, but she would not allow them to penetrate the wall of defense she had built around her wounded soul. She pushed the newspaper aside and stood. “I’m going upstairs to bed. It’s been a long day, and I’m awfully tired.”

Long after Miriam left the room, Anna stayed at the table, reading her Bible and praying. She knew only one answer for her daughter’s troubled spirit, and that was to open her heart to God’s unconditional love and allow Him to fill her life with His joy and peace.

“Is there any of that good-tasting gingerbread cake left?” Lewis asked as he stepped into the kitchen, rousing Anna from her time of prayer and meditation. “I wouldn’t mind a piece if there is.”

“I think that can be arranged.” Anna slid her chair back
and stood. “Would you like a glass of milk or some tea to go with it?”

He smacked his lips. “Ice cold milk sounds good to me.”

“If you want ice cold, maybe you’d better take it outside,” she said with a chuckle. “The weather’s turned frigid this week, and I’m thinking that soon we’ll be having some snow.”

He took a seat at the table. “I believe you’re right about that.”

Anna placed a hunk of gingerbread and a tall glass of milk in front of Lewis; then she returned to her seat across from him.

“Aren’t you having any?” he asked around a mouthful of cake. “This is sure tasty.”

She shook her head. “I’m still full from supper, and I had a big lunch today after Sarah and I went to see Rebekah.”

“You think she’ll be goin’ home soon?”

“I don’t know. Her therapy sessions are going well, so maybe it won’t be too long before the doctor says she’s ready to leave the hospital.”

“It’s a good thing Miriam’s been giving her a few lessons while she’s there.” Lewis took a swallow of milk. “Otherwise Rebekah would be way behind when she returned to school.”

Anna drummed her fingers along the edge of the table. “It might be some time before Rebekah’s up to going back to school. Even with Miriam giving her lessons to do at home, she’s likely to have a lot of makeup to do.”

“You think she may be held back and have to do this year over again?”

“Might could be.”

Lewis reached for a napkin and wiped a spot on his chin
where some crumbs had accumulated. “I remember when I entered eighth grade and knew I’d be graduating that year. I wanted to be held back a year and even tried to fail just so Katherine Yoder wouldn’t graduate me.”

Anna’s forehead wrinkled. “This is the first I’ve heard of that. Why would you have wanted to fail?”

His ears turned pink, and he stared at his empty plate. “You want the truth?”

“Of course.”

“As you know, Grace Zepp is a year younger than me, and since I’d be leaving school after eighth grade and she still had another year, I didn’t want to graduate yet.”

“Ah, I see. You cared for Grace even back then?”

He nodded. “Of course, she made me see reason when I told her my plan to flunk all my tests that year so I wouldn’t have to graduate.”

“What did Grace say?”

“She reminded me that the sooner I learned a trade, the sooner I’d be ready to marry and begin a family.” The color that permeated Lewis’s ears spread quickly to the rest of his face. “I think I’m almost ready for that, Mom.”

She smiled and reached across the table to touch his hand. “I think so, too.”

Whenever Miriam went to the hospital to visit Rebekah, she always took a book to read, as well as some of the child’s favorite licorice candy. Today was one of those days, but Miriam found herself dreading the visit. Would she ever stop feeling guilty whenever she looked at the sweet young child lying so
helpless in her bed? Maybe Rebekah would be asleep when she arrived, and then she could leave the treat and book on the table by her bed and retreat to the protection and solitude of home.

As Gladys pulled her van into the hospital parking lot, Miriam thanked her. “I’ll be ready to head for home in about an hour.”

“That’s fine,” Gladys replied. “I’ll run a few errands and meet you here at five o’clock.”

“All right.” As Miriam stepped out of the car, it started to rain, so she hurried toward the hospital’s main entrance. Just as she was about to step inside, she collided with a man. When she looked up, she found herself staring into the familiar blue eyes of Nick McCormick. She trembled, fighting the urge to pound her fists against his chest.

Nick smiled, apparently unaware of her irritation. “Miriam, it’s good to see you again. As usual, you look a bit flustered, but beautiful, nonetheless. Is there something I can do to help?”

Miriam clasped her hands tightly behind her back, trying to maintain control of herself. She had never been so close to striking anyone. Strangely, Nick seemed to bring out the worst in her, yet he also brought out the best.

“I have no patience with a liar,” she mumbled.

“Excuse me?”

She lifted her chin and met his piercing gaze. “I’m referring to the fact that you promised not to do a story about my niece but then went ahead and did it anyway. Your word meant absolutely nothing, did it?”

Nick reached up to scratch the back of his head while
giving her a sheepish-looking grin. “Guess you caught me red-handed. When I wrote the article, I didn’t think about how some Amish probably read the
Daily Express
.”

“We’re not ignorant, you know.”

“I’m sure you’re not.”

“My people aren’t perfect and don’t claim to be, but we do strive for honesty, which is more than I can say for some.”

“My, my, aren’t you a feisty little thing today?” He chuckled. “I like spunky women—but I also like women who get their facts straight.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Fact number one: I never actually promised that I wouldn’t do a story about your niece.”

“But you said—”

“That I wouldn’t do any more note-taking while you were talking to me. I kept true to my word and put away my paper and pen.”

“But when you mentioned that you wanted to do an article about Rebekah’s accident and include something about the cost of her medical bills, I asked you not to, and I assumed you would abide by my wishes.”

He gave no reply, just staring at her in a most disconcerting way.

“And I certainly never thought you would sneak into her hospital room and take her picture,” Miriam added, putting emphasis on the word
picture
.

“I did what I thought best—as a reporter and as your friend.”

“What kind of friend goes behind someone’s back and does something so sneaky?”

“The kind who believes he’s doing the right thing.” Nick pulled Miriam into the little waiting area across the hall. “Fact number two: I really do care about you, and I believed I was doing something helpful for your family. I apologize if it upset you or if you thought I had betrayed you.” He sank into a chair. “If it makes you feel any better, I got a good chewing-out from my boss for including the picture I took of your niece, and that’s why I wrote the apology letter that went into the paper a few days later. Did you happen to read it?”

She shook her head.

“Well, it’s true. I didn’t want anyone to think I had done anything to intentionally step on the Plain People’s toes—especially not your pretty toes.”

Miriam’s anger receded some. It was hard to remain in control when she was in Nick’s presence. And when he looked at her with such a tender expression, she could barely think or breathe. Did she really need acceptance so badly that she would go outside her Amish faith to get it? Despite her desires, she couldn’t allow this man to deceive her into believing he actually cared for her.

“I need to go see my niece now,” she said, starting for the door. “I appreciate your apology, but I would ask that you not see Rebekah again.”

Nick stood and moved toward her, but before he could give a reply, she dashed from the room.

“That sure went well,” Nick muttered under his breath. “I wait all this time to see Miriam again, and then I can’t think
of anything to say that might redeem myself and make her willing to spend time with me again.”

He groaned.
If she knew why I’d come to the hospital today, she would really be mad. Maybe it’s good that she left the room before I ended up telling her where I just came from and how I bribed her niece into letting me take her picture again.
He grabbed his camera bag, which he’d placed on a chair when they’d come into the room, and started for the door.
I didn’t take any face-on shots of Rebekah this time, so at least I shouldn’t catch any flak from Pete for doing it.

As Nick left the waiting room, he glanced down the long corridor, hoping to catch a glimpse of Miriam. She was nowhere in sight.
It’s probably just as well. After my next article comes out, she’ll probably never speak to me again.

When Miriam entered Rebekah’s room, she found the child propped up on pillows.
So innocent, sweet, and helpless
, she thought.

“Aunt Miriam!” Rebekah smiled and reached her small hand out to Miriam.