A Place of Peace (2 page)

After the shrill beep ended, Miriam took a deep breath. “Abby, it’s me.” Before she could stop them, the tears started, and her voice was thick. “Call me. I just got the most horrible news. Hannah called me, and my
mamm
…” Her voice trailed off; she couldn’t say the word. “I’m heading home to pack up and leave for Gordonville right away. Call me. Bye.”

She slammed the phone down and stood. After explaining the situation to Lauren, she rushed to the apartment she’d shared with Abby since Abby’s husband left her two years ago.

Miriam was drowning in memories and packing when the door to her bedroom whooshed open, dragging across the worn tan carpet.

“What’s going on?” a voice behind her asked.

Miriam turned to find her cousin standing in the doorway, clad in her best blue suit. Her light brown hair was cut in a short, stylish bob, perfect for a professional climbing the corporate ladder. She looked the part of an aspiring lawyer.

“Abby,” Miriam said. “What are you doing here?”

“I left the office as soon as I got your voicemail.” Her eyes were full of concern. “What did Hannah say?”

“Mamm
passed away last night.” Miriam’s voice broke on the last word. Covering her mouth with her hands, she choked back a sob.

“Oh no.” Abby encircled her in a hug. “I’m so sorry.”

“I can’t believe it,” Miriam choked through her sobs. “I was going to surprise her with a visit over Christmas and try to work things out. I wanted to make things right. I wanted to see her and talk to her in person. But, now … Now she’s—”

“Shhh.” Abby patted her back. “It’s going to be all right.”

“But how?” Miriam swiped her tears away with the back of her hands.

A somber smile turned up her cousin’s lips. “Remember what you told me when that snake of a husband of mine left me for his perky secretary?”

Miriam shook her head. “Not really.”

“You reminded me of a very important verse from Isaiah —'those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength.'” Abby’s eyes were serious. “We’ll get through this. I promise.”

Biting her bottom lip, Miriam nodded.

“I’ll pack a few things, and we’ll get on the road.” Abby headed for the door.

“You’re coming with me?”

Abby gave a little shrug. “Of course I am. Did you honestly think I’d let you face the family alone after nearly four years?”

Miriam let out a sigh. “I’d hoped not.”

Abby gestured toward the suitcase. “Get packed, and we’ll get on the road. With any luck, we’ll be there before midnight. I imagine your dad and my parents won’t welcome us with open arms. I guess we’ll stay with Aunt Edna?”

Miriam nodded. “I was thinking that. As far as I know, she’s still living alone in that little house on my
daed’s
farm.”

“I should have said
Aenti
Edna.” Abby smiled. “Guess I better brush up on my Pennsylvania
Dietsch,
huh? Man, how long has it been since I’ve been back there?”

“Six years, right?” Miriam lowered herself onto her double bed next to her suitcase.

“Yeah, I guess so.” Abby shook her head and stepped toward the door. “Well, we have a long ride ahead of us. We better get on the road.”

Taking a deep breath, Miriam rose from the bed and fished a few blouses from her dresser. Closing her eyes, she whispered a prayer for strength and courage as she embarked on this painful trip to her past.

T
he tires of Miriam’s Honda Accord crunched down the winding rock path leading to the house where she’d grown up with her three siblings. Her heart pounded against her ribcage as the three-story whitewashed farmhouse with the sweeping wraparound porch came into view. Memories of late summer nights sitting on that porch swarmed her mind.

Sitting with her mother chatting about friends and relatives.

Lounging with her siblings, singing their favorite hymns.

Curling up on the porch swing, reading the Bible.

Miriam nosed the car up to the front porch and stared at the steps reflected in the beam of light. Memories mixed with regret and heartache crashed down on her. She knew that members of the community would have visited and offered condolences to her father and siblings all day today, staying from six in the morning until ten at night. She wished she’d been with them.

“I see a lamp burning in the kitchen. He must still be up.” Abby’s comment slammed Miriam back to the present.

Glancing toward the front windows, Miriam spotted the faint light creeping under the green shades. “It must be the first time in the last sixty years that he has stayed up past eight o’clock.” She blinked back tears. “He must really miss her.”

Abby touched Miriam’s arm. “You want me to walk up to the door with you?”

“No, thanks.” Miriam shook her head. “I need to do this alone.”

Abby snorted. “I wouldn’t be much help anyway. I’m the derelict who left the community, married a heathen, divorced the heathen, and am pursuing my completely un-Amish dream of becoming a lawyer.”

Reaching over, Miriam squeezed Abby’s hand. “I don’t care what any of them says. I think you’re wonderful.”

Abby grinned. “You mean
wunderbaar
.”

“
Ya.
” Miriam returned a smile as she wrenched the door open. “Say a prayer for me.” Climbing from the car, she took a deep breath despite the humid July air closing in around her. Her heavy feet felt as if the weight of the world bogged them down as she climbed the steps of the old farmhouse.

Standing at the front door, she suddenly felt self-conscious of her attire. She glanced down at her pink T-shirt, blue jeans, and her painted pink toenails sticking out from her open-toed sandals. She then lifted her hand to her dark brown hair, cut to fall just past her shoulders and pulled up into a thick ponytail, affixed with a purple rubber band. Her attire broke every Amish rule—from her hair being cut to her hint of eye shadow and blush. Her father would surely comment on the disappointment and dishonor Miriam Lapp had brought to his family.

Despite her negative thoughts, Miriam squared her shoulders.

I have as much a right to be here as my siblings. She was my mother too.

She cleared her throat and tapped on the door. Her heart pounded in her chest as she held her breath. Beyond the door, she heard feet pound against the hardwood flooring. The bolt clicked, and the door opened with a protesting groan.

“Who’s there?” a young man’s voice called.

“It’s Miriam.” She hated how her voice trembled when she was nervous.

“Miriam?” The door swung open, revealing her brother, Gerald.

She blinked, stunned by how mature he was. He was now eighteen, five years her junior. Towering over her at close to six feet, he was handsome, resembling her father when he was younger. He wore traditional Amish clothes —a dark shirt, suspenders, and trousers, and his dark brown hair was cut in a bowl shape.

She wondered if Gerald had met someone special and was courting her, taking her to singings and bringing her home in his courting buggy. Would he marry a sweet Amish girl and have a family, following in the footsteps their parents always dreamt their four children would?

Gerald’s eyes scanned her attire, and she folded her arms across her chest as if that gesture would hide her English clothes.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, his eyes accusing.

“Hannah called me.” She cleared her throat. “I heard about …

“Who’s here at this hour?” Her father’s voice bellowed from inside the house.

Gerald turned toward the voice. “It’s Miriam. Hannah called her.”

“I don’t know anyone named Miriam.” Her father’s voice was cold, dead of emotion. “Tell her to leave.”

Miriam’s heart sank, and tears filled her eyes. She opened her mouth to speak, but Gerald slammed the door before the words escaped her lips. She stood staring at the door as the tears gushed from her eyes.

“Hey.” Abby’s voice was soft behind her.

Turning, Miriam found Abby standing at the bottom of the stairs. Miriam wiped her eyes and cleared her throat. “When did you get out of the car?” she asked.

“I saw Gerald’s expression when he opened the door, and I thought you might need moral support. Don’t let them get toyou.” She climbed the stairs and nodded toward the car. “Let’s go to
Aenti’s
house. When she called my cell phone from her phone shanty, she said we could arrive at any time. The door’s unlocked for us.”

Miriam followed her cousin toward the car.

They drove in silence to the cabin located at the back of her father’s eighty acres. Her father and his brother had built the small home for Edna many years ago after their parents had died and another brother had moved into their parents’ home with his family. Since Edna never married, she lived in the home alone, and her brothers provided for her living expenses. She baked Amish pastries and provided them to local bakeries for extra money.

Miriam parked alongside the cabin and stared at the small pond behind it, sparkling in the beams of the headlights. She remembered hot summer days when she and her siblings would splash in the pond after their chores were completed.

“She said she’d leave a lantern burning for us, and we should make ourselves at home,” Abby said while gathering her purse.

Miriam nodded and cleared her throat, wishing the lump would subside.

“Hey, it’ll be okay.” Abby rubbed her arm. “The funeral will be in a couple days. You can visit with
Aenti
and Hannah and then head back home.”

“Where’s that?”

“Huh?” Abby’s eyebrows knitted together with confusion.

“Where’s home exactly? It’s certainly not here.” Miriam gestured toward the large field separating the cabin from her father’s house. “And it’s not in Indiana.”

“Why would you say that?”

“No one wants me here, so that doesn’t make it home. And my life in Indiana consists of work and a small apartment.”

“Gee, thanks a lot,” Abby deadpanned, leaning back against the door.

Miriam sighed. “I didn’t mean it that way. You know you’re my best friend. I just meant I don’t fit in anywhere. I’m not quite
English,
and I’m certainly not Amish.”

“Why do you need to label yourself? You’re Miriam Lapp.” Abby touched Miriam’s arm. “You’re beautiful inside and out. You’re sweet, kind, and loving. And if you hadn’t chickened out and quit nursing school, you would’ve been the best pediatric nurse that LaGrange, Indiana, has ever seen.”

Miriam’s eyes narrowed to slits. “For the hundredth time, Abby, I didn’t chicken out. I ran out of money. That’s not the same as chickening out.”

“You could’ve applied for more student aid. That’s how I got my paralegal certificate and how I plan to get through law school.” Abby pushed a lock of dark brown hair back from Miriam’s face. “You sell yourself short. You’re an amazing person. Don’t let your family’s judgment hold you back from achieving your dreams.”

“But that’s just it.” Miriam unfastened her seatbelt and angled herself toward her cousin. “I don’t know what I want or where I belong. I’ve been gone for nearly four years, but I still feel like I left something here. I still feel incomplete.”

Abby frowned. “Because of
him?”

Miriam shrugged. “Maybe.”

“It is, isn’t it? You haven’t gotten over him.”

Biting her bottom lip, Miriam glanced toward the pond. “He’s probably married and has two children with another on the way by now,” she whispered.

“If he is, then it was never meant to be.”

Sniffing, Miriam shook her head. “But that’s not just it. God is punishing me for what happened to Jeremy Henderson. It’s my burden to be alone and suffer.”

Abby scowled. “No, you’re wrong. What happened to Jeremy wasn’t your fault, and it’s time you realized that.” Her expression softened. “God’s in control, so have faith. That’s what youtold me when I was down in the dumps about Rich’s escapades, and you helped me through. I thank God for you and your faith.” She gave Miriam a quick hug. “You’re my best friend too. We’ll get through this. I promise.” Abby pushed the door open. “Let’s head to bed. It’s nearly one. We’re going to be exhausted tomorrow when
Aenti
gets us up at four-thirty.”

Miriam groaned while retrieving her purse from the backseat. “I hope she allows us some time to sleep.”

“Don’t bet on it.” Abby sighed.

They lugged their bags up the front step of the cabin and stepped into the small living area. Scanning the room, Miriam found the sofa made up with sheets and pillows. The door to the guest room was open, revealing the single bed also ready for a visitor.

“Should we flip a coin to see who gets the guest room?” Miriam asked, letting her bag fall to the floor.

“Nah.” Abby shook her head and yawned. “You take the guest room. I’ll bunk on the sofa.”

“How’s that fair?”

“Just go.” Abby nudged her. “I’ll be fine.”

“But —”

“You did the driving and look absolutely wiped out. I’ll tell
Aenti
to let you sleep.” She gestured toward the door. “Go on. Git!”

“Thanks. You’re the best.” Miriam gave Abby a hug and then dragged her bag to the guest room, which was devoid of decorations and held only a few pegs on the wall, a small bureau, a sewing machine, and the bed. After freshening up in the small bathroom in the hall, she changed into her simple white nightgown and crawled between the sheets of the bed. Snuggling down, Miriam closed her eyes and silently said her prayers.

As she drifted off to sleep, she was accosted by thoughts of Timothy Kauffman—his sandy blond hair, his powder blue eyes, his tantalizing smile that could melt her within seconds of his lips curling …

She wondered if he’d ever married the girl her sister Lilly had said he was courting behind Miriam’s back. Did he still live in that house he had built for himself and Miriam on his father’s property? Was he still as handsome as she remembered?

Her thoughts faded as sleep overtook her exhausted body.

Miriam awoke to the aroma of bacon, eggs, and freshly made bread. She yawned, stretched, and hoisted herself from the bed and dressed in her jeans and a fresh T-shirt.