A Promise for Miriam (24 page)

“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

G
abe 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 spoke 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.

Everyone in the room turned to the right aisle, where two of the older boys were carrying in a blanket chest.

“We had Daniel Lapp make it, and the families contributed to pay for materials and Daniel’s time. Because Daniel was a previous student of yours—”

“Now I have a
boppli
of my own,” a young man shouted from the back of the room, followed by a smattering of laughter.