A Merry Heart (26 page)

M
iriam could hardly believe fall was behind them already and winter was well on the way. The month of November had been a busy one, with Lewis and Grace’s wedding, and then Thanksgiving a week after that. Soon Christmas would be here, and that would mean the opportunity for her to spend more time with family and friends.

Not that Mary Ellen and Amos aren’t family
, she thought as she sat at the treadle sewing machine, preparing to make Mary Ellen a new dress for school. The child had grown so much in the last month, and everything she wore seemed much too short for her gangly body.

When Miriam had agreed to marry Amos, she hadn’t realized how demanding the role of motherhood would be, but she found herself enjoying the responsibility of being Mary Ellen’s mother, although it caused her heart to ache for a child of her own.

At times like now, she found herself thinking about William Graber and the love they’d once shared, knowing that if they had married, she might have one or two children by now.

Miriam shook her head to clear the troubling thoughts and reminded herself that it did no good to dwell on such things. The past was in the past, and now she had a new life to think about. Mary Ellen would be the only child she would ever be able to help raise, and being around the little girl had given Miriam a reason to laugh and smile again.

Miriam found that she was even becoming more relaxed around Amos. He was a soft-spoken man with an easy, pleasant way about him. Though he wasn’t what she would consider handsome, he certainly wasn’t ugly. Being near him didn’t make her heart pound wildly the way it had when she’d been with William or Nick, but she did feel respect for Amos, which was something William certainly hadn’t earned.

One evening as Amos opened the Bible, he announced to Miriam and Mary Ellen that he would be reading from Psalm 127:3–5. “‘Lo, children are an heritage of the Lord: and the fruit of the womb is his reward. As arrows are in the hand of a mighty man; so are children of the youth. Happy is the man that hath his quiver full of them.’ ”

“What’s a quiver, Pappy?” Mary Ellen asked.

Amos stroked his beard and looked thoughtful. “A quiver is a case for carrying arrows.”

“Do you have a quiver?”

He grinned. “I have no case full of arrows, but I do have a home, and God’s Word is saying that men are happy when they have a home full of children.”

Mary Ellen’s forehead wrinkled. “You only have one
child, Pappy, so you must be awful sad.”

Miriam cringed. Mary Ellen had hit a nerve, for Miriam knew she wasn’t as happy as she could be, and one of the reasons was her deep desire for a baby.

Amos pulled Mary Ellen from her chair and into his lap. “I must admit, having more kinner would be nice, but I’m happy with just one.”

Mary Ellen cuddled against his chest. “I hope God sends us a boppli sometime. I want a little bruder or
schweschder
to play with.”

The tears that had formed behind Miriam’s eyes threatened to spill over, and it took all her willpower to hold them at bay.

“If God wishes you to have a brother or sister someday, then it will happen, but it will be in His time,” Amos told the child.

“Then I’ll pray and ask God to hurry up,” she said eagerly.

Amos looked as though he was about to say something more, but he closed the Bible instead, and then in a surprising gesture, he lifted his hand to brush away the tears that lay on Miriam’s cheeks.

A deep-seated longing coursed through her body, and she quickly pulled back.

“Sorry. I—I didn’t mean to offend you or go back on my word.” Amos pushed away from the table. “There are a few things outside I must tend to.”

As Miriam watched his retreating form, she felt relieved that he’d left the room, yet that sensation was mixed with disappointment. She didn’t bother to analyze her feelings,
but she knew one thing for certain—Amos Hilty, her husband in name only, was as miserable as she was right now.

Feeling the need to work off his frustrations, Amos grabbed an axe and a kerosene lantern from the woodshed and headed around back to the pile of logs he’d been planning to split for firewood.

“Miriam hates it whenever I touch her,” he mumbled, placing the first hunk of wood on the chopping block. “I had promised her I wouldn’t, yet I touched her anyway.”

Crack!
The axe came down hard, splitting the wood in two and sending both chunks into the air. They landed a few feet away, and Amos grunted as he bent to pick up another hunk of wood. He positioned it on the chopping block, raised his arms, and let the axe fall once more.

It seems like she always has to be moving—jumping up and down to check something on the stove, racing back and forth from the table to the refrigerator. She tries to keep busy so she doesn’t have to talk to me, and when we do talk, there’s either an invisible wall between us, or I say or do the wrong thing.

For the next half hour, Amos chopped wood with a frenzy as he thought about Miriam and how much he loved her. “I was a fool to marry that woman!” he shouted into the night sky.
Crack!
“Why can’t she look at me with tenderness and love, the way she does Mary Ellen?”
Crack!
“How can I go on living with her when I can’t touch her or let her know how much I love her?”

He swiped at the rivulets of sweat rolling down his forehead with the back of his hand and grabbed another piece
of wood. Placing it on the chopping block, he gritted his teeth. “I don’t think I can do this much longer. I can’t stand not being able to touch Miriam when I love her so much. Oh, Lord, give me the strength to endure this test.”

Crack!
The axe came down hard, shattering the wood into several pieces and sending them flying. Amos ducked as one came his way, but it was too late. The wood smacked him in the head quicker than he could blink. At first, all he felt was a dull ache, but soon his head began to throb. He lifted his hand to touch the spot, and thick, coppery blood oozed out between his fingers.

“Dummkopp!” he mumbled. “I’m a dunce for thinking too much and not watching what I was doing.”

Amos knew the cut needed to be looked after, and he hoped it wasn’t so deep that it would require stitches. The last thing he needed tonight was a trip to the hospital. He leaned the axe against the chopping block.

Feeling very foolish and a bit woozy, he turned for the house. A few minutes later, he found Miriam and Mary Ellen sitting at the kitchen table, putting a puzzle together and eating popcorn.

“Pappy, your head’s bleeding!” Mary Ellen shouted.

Miriam was immediately on her feet and rushing to his side. “Oh, Amos, what happened?”

“I was choppin’ wood out behind the shed, and one of the pieces flew up and hit me in the head.”

“Come, sit at the table and let me look at that.” Miriam took hold of Amos’s arm and led him across the room. As soon as he was seated, she leaned over and examined the wound, shaking her head and clicking her tongue.

Mary Ellen peered up at them with a worried expression. “Is Pappy gonna be okay?”

“The cut doesn’t look too deep. I think it just needs to be cleaned and bandaged.” Miriam hurried across the room and pulled a small towel from one of the cupboards. Then she went to the sink and wet it. She returned to the table and placed the towel against Amos’s forehead. “Hold this here while I run upstairs and get some bandages.”

When Miriam left the room, he smiled at Mary Ellen and said, “Now wipe that frown from your face, little one. I’m not hurt so much, and Mama Mim will be back soon to put a bandage on for me.”

Mary Ellen’s chin quivered, but she managed a weak smile. “I’m sure glad you married her, Pappy, ’cause I wouldn’t know what to do if you came in here bleedin’ like that.”

Amos patted the top of his daughter’s head. “Jah, I’m glad I married Mim, too.”

Miriam’s hands shook as she dabbed some antiseptic on Amos’s wound and covered it with a bandage. What if the cut had been deeper? What if the wood had hit him in a vital spot?

She straightened and stepped away from him. “There. I think you’ll be good as new.”

“Pappy ain’t old, Mama Mim.” Mary Ellen stared at Miriam with a wide-eyed expression.

“I don’t think that’s what Miriam meant when she said I’d be good as new,” Amos said before Miriam could reply.

Miriam touched the little girl’s shoulder. “I guess I should
have said that your daed will be fine and dandy now. The bleeding has stopped, and in a few days, the cut will be all healed up.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” Mary Ellen pivoted toward the table and pointed to the bowl of popcorn. “Now can we finish eatin’ our snack?”

Amos chuckled, and Miriam felt herself relax. For the first time since she had become Mrs. Amos Hilty, she felt as if they were a real family. If only that feeling could last.

T
he days moved on, bringing frosty cold mornings with plenty of snow on the ground. One afternoon in the middle of February, Miriam decided to leave a little early when she went to pick up Mary Ellen after school so she could pay a call on Crystal.

“Be careful today,” Amos called to her from the door of his blacksmith shop. “The roads could be icy what with that snow we had last night.”

“I’ll watch out for it,” she said as she climbed into her buggy. It was nice to know Amos was concerned, but she wondered if his apprehension over her driving on icy roads was because he cared about her welfare, or if he was merely worried that if something happened to her, he would have to find another mother for Mary Ellen.

She shook the thought aside and reached for the reins. At least Amos had kept true to his word and not tried to touch her again.

Half an hour later, Miriam guided her horse and buggy up her brother and sister-in-law’s long driveway. She spotted Crystal right away, standing on the front porch, sweeping
snow that had probably been blown in from the wind they’d had last night. When Crystal saw Miriam, she waved and set the broom aside. “It’s good to see you,” she called.

Miriam stepped down from her buggy and started toward the house, being careful not to slip on the icy path. “It has been awhile, hasn’t it?”

Crystal nodded. “I’ve been wondering how you’re doing on these cold, snowy days.”

Miriam stepped onto the porch. “It’s still kind of hard for me to take Mary Ellen to school each day, then turn around and go back home to an empty house. Teaching the scholars was a part of my life for several years, and I still miss it some.”

Crystal opened the door and led the way into her warm, cozy kitchen. “But you have Mary Ellen to train and teach at home. The role of motherhood can be very rewarding. You’ll see that even more once other kinner come along.” She took Miriam’s coat and hung it on a wall peg, then motioned to the table where a teapot sat. “Why, you’ll be so busy changing
windle
and doing extra laundry, you won’t have time to think about anything else.”

“Other children? Changing diapers?” Miriam sank into a chair with a moan. “Have you been talking to Mom by any chance?”

“About what?”

“Me having a boppli.”

“You’re in a family way?” Crystal’s face broke into a wide smile, and she leaned over to grab Miriam in a hug.

“I’m not going to have a baby,” Miriam said. “Not now. Not ever.”

Crystal clicked her tongue. “Miriam, it’s only been six
months since you and Amos were married. You need to give it more time. It’s God’s time anyway, and it will happen when He’s ready for it to.”

Shortly before Miriam’s wedding, she had told Crystal why she was marrying Amos, and she’d thought she had made it clear that there was no love between them. However, she hadn’t spoken of the matter since that day, so she was sure Crystal didn’t understand the extent of how distant things really were between her and Amos. Miriam felt ashamed to admit that she slept in her own room and Amos in his. There had been no physical union between them, so there would be no babies.

She drew in a deep breath and decided that, despite her embarrassment, maybe it would help if she confided in someone who might give her a little understanding and sympathy. “I’ll never get pregnant,” she whispered with a catch in her voice.

“Now, Miriam, good things come to those who wait.”

Tears slipped out from under Miriam’s lashes and splashed onto the front of her dress. “Amos and I—we haven’t consummated our marriage.”

Crystal’s mouth fell open. “You mean—”

“We sleep in separate rooms. We’re man and wife in name only.” Miriam grabbed a napkin from the basket in the center of the table and wiped her eyes. She hated to cry and saw tears as a sign of weakness, yet she’d been giving in to weepiness a lot these days.

“Has Amos agreed to such an arrangement?” Crystal asked, staring at Miriam in obvious disbelief. “I know you only married him because of Mary Ellen, but I thought that by now you—”

“He knows I don’t love him, and he feels no love for me. Our marriage is still one of convenience. He provides a home and food for me, and I cook, clean, and take care of his daughter.”

Crystal placed a gentle hand on Miriam’s arm. “Miriam, he could have simply hired a maad for those tasks. Surely Amos needs a wife and not just a housekeeper.”