A Promise for Miriam (30 page)

“
Dat
. I’m too little to drive a buggy.”

“You are?”

“I could drive a cart, though, if we had one.”

“You could?” Gabe rubbed his chin as if he’d never thought of buying a cart or of teaching Grace to drive.

“
Dat
. You said maybe this year.”

“I did?” He helped her up into the buggy.

“
Ya
. You did.”

“I guess we’ll see, then.”

Grace glanced around at the buggy, surprised to find it looked just like theirs. She’d ridden in it before, on the Friday before Christmas, but she’d been so worried about the speech lesson she hadn’t dared to look around.

Why had she thought it would be different? Did she think it would have the word “teacher” stamped inside it? Or maybe there would be a special shelf of books in the backseat? Glancing over into the back, she saw there was nothing different at all.

“Lose something?”

“No.” Grace turned around and plopped down on the seat, happy to be riding home, happy to be going to see her teacher—finally, after a week of worrying and praying. “
Dat
, how are we going to get home from Miriam’s?”

“I left our buggy there at lunch, and Eli gave me a ride in as he came back toward town in his buggy. Miriam was too sick to drive it herself when Eli took her home Wednesday morning.” Gabe glanced at her. “You didn’t think I was going to make you walk, did you?”

“Maybe.”

“Well, it just so happens Abigail invited us to dinner, so it would be dark. I can’t have you walking a mile in the dark.”

A visit with her teacher and dinner with Abigail. Fridays didn’t get any better.

Chapter 36

I
t had been one thing for Gabe to read the Scripture from the Gospel of Matthew to Grace. It had been another thing entirely for him to stop the worries robbing his own sleep.

When he’d first heard from Eli how sick Miriam was, he’d wanted to run over the check on her. He’d resisted all of Tuesday when Eli had first told him Miriam was too ill to teach, and he’d even stayed away Wednesday morning when Eli had rushed her home to her parents—but only by tackling twice the normal amount of work he would hve attempted behind the old barn. Then Eli had driven up early Wednesday afternoon, pulled him aside, and told him that Miriam’s fever was worse.

He had only waited until Eli’s buggy had pulled away. Now, riding beside Grace in the afternoon sunlight, he ran his hand over his face, amused by the memory. Certainly he had looked foolish showing up on the Kings’ doorstep. He hadn’t even thought to have an excuse for coming. He’d simply ridden up and banged on the door, demanding to know if she was okay, if they had called the doctor, if she should be in the hospital.

Joshua had walked him to the barn and calmed him down. Actually, Joshua was the one who had reminded him of the Scripture from Matthew, the very words he’d read to Grace. He hadn’t seen Miriam that day, but he’d received regular updates from Eli, and Joshua had stopped by yesterday afternoon to ask if he could bring her buggy home.

Something in the man’s eyes told him it was a ruse, but Gabe hadn’t called him on it. Truth was, he wanted to see her for himself, so he’d said yes and thanked Joshua for coming by. When he’d dropped his own buggy off this morning and caught the ride in with Eli, Miriam had been standing at the window. She’d waved at him, and he’d returned the greeting, but he hadn’t stopped to talk.

What would he say to her?

Their relationship was complicated.

He’d decided almost two weeks ago that he wouldn’t pursue his feelings for her. He didn’t even understand those feelings, but one thing he did know. She would be better off with Aden Schmucker. This week’s illness only confirmed that in his mind. If she were living in a more liberal district, she wouldn’t be walking outside to use the outhouse and as subject to the elements. Life was simply easier there, and she deserved a chance to live that way.

He hoped she’d had time to come to the same conclusion.

What was he thinking? She’d never said she had feelings for him.

His emotions and thoughts were jumping all over the place. He was worse than a boy on his
rumspringa
. Grace bounced on the seat next to him, pulling him out of his reverie.

“Maybe Abigail will let me help cook dinner.”

“I let you help cook dinner.” He tried to sound offended as they pulled into the Kings’ lane.

“
Ya
.” Her voice croaked a little. That still happened once in a while. She cleared it and continued. “But mainly we heat up salted meat and warm the canned vegetables
mammi
Sarah and
mammi
Erma sent.”

“Huh. You mean there’s another kind of cooking?” He directed the horse to the barn, where Joshua was waiting for them.

Grace was immediately distracted by Pepper, which lasted about three minutes until she remembered she was there to see Miriam.

“She’s resting in the living room, Grace.” Joshua winked at Gabe and waited until Grace had skipped toward the house before he added, “For a minute there, she looked as worried as you did.”

Gabe reddened but didn’t rise to the bait. “I’ll help you with the horse.”

“
Danki
.”

They found another hour’s worth of work to do—hoping to give the women enough time to finish their talking and also attempting to stay out of their way. Gabe was anxious to see Miriam for himself, but he figured he’d raised enough eyebrows storming his way up the porch on Wednesday. Obviously she was fine, because Esther said she would be back in the classroom on Monday.

Joshua had just opened the door to the mudroom when Grace’s piercing scream split the afternoon’s quietness, followed by a loud cry. Joshua sprinted into the kitchen before Gabe could stop him, before Gabe could push in front of him.

The cry ended abruptly, followed by an unnatural silence. The silence sent a shiver through Gabe’s heart. It reminded him so much of that other time, the time he hadn’t responded to her cries quickly enough, the time that had sent Hope’s father into such a rage.

He hurried across the mudroom to gauge Joshua’s reaction, but the man had stopped near the table, halfway through the kitchen. Gabe was right behind him. He barreled into the room and nearly ran into Joshua’s back.

Grace was standing on a stool positioned beside the stove. She’d been stirring a pot. The spoon she’d been using lay on the floor. Dumplings trailed across the top of the stove and down on to the floor, and the smell of burned dough and chicken broth filled the air.

Abigail was next to Grace, trying to see her finger.

Miriam stood near, wrapped in two sweaters, her gaze worried and moving constantly from Grace to Joshua to Gabe.

But it was the expression on Grace’s face which tore at Gabe’s heart. He knew immediately, knew even before he’d crossed the kitchen in four long strides, what had happened and why there was a look of terror on his daughter’s face. She cradled her finger, the one with a blister rising on it, in her other hand.

But her hands, both of her hands, were clasped over her mouth, as if they could hold her mouth shut and keep any more screams from escaping. As if her hands could silence her voice.

Her eyes were wide with fright as she stared at Miriam’s father.

Gabe didn’t say a word. He merely went to her and placed both of his hands gently on her shoulders. He’d seen her this way before. Mostly after Hope had died, while they were still staying with Erma and Micah. Once or twice even after they had moved to Cashton, when she’d wakened from a nightmare.

But Grace didn’t seem to see him, or even Abigail, who was murmuring softly and trying to pry the blistered finger away. Grace’s eyes were focused on Joshua, and the fear—the terror on her face—tore at Gabe’s heart.

“Did you burn your finger, Gracie?” Joshua’s voice was soft, low, and kind.

Grace nodded slightly, still not daring to move her hands away from her mouth.

Joshua moved forward slowly until he stopped just in front of her, and then he bent down so they were eye to eye.

“I bet that hurt.”

Again the nod.

“I burned my finger last summer when I was clearing the fields by burning brush. It hurt so much I let out a holler that made birds take flight.”

Grace’s eyes widened even more in disbelief.

“I believe it helped some to holler that way. It let out some of the pain.” He held out his right index finger to her. “I still have a small scar, but mostly it’s healed.”

Grace lowered her hands to touch the scar on his finger, which was large, old, and calloused. When she began to speak, the words and the tears came tumbling out at once. “I dropped…dropped the spoon and tried to pick…pick it up. When…when I did the stove was hot, like Ab-Abi-Abigail warned me.”

She hiccuped as the tears tracked down her cheeks.

“Aloe vera is just the thing for that. Joshua, could you—”

“I know which plant it is. I’ll go and fetch a leaf for you.” He winked as he stood up and moved toward the windows on the kitchen’s south side. Gabe hadn’t noticed when he was there for Christmas, but the window ledges were filled with plants.

Before he could ask, Miriam said, “
Mamm
is something of an herbalist.”

“Common sense, is all. Grace, come sit at the table and I’ll show you how to do this, and then I’ll send a cutting from the plant home with you. It would be
gut
to start your own plant in case your
dat
is as clumsy as Joshua. You’ll need to learn how to care for him, and aloe vera has many uses.”

As she proceeded to slice the leaf from the plant open and apply the gel to Grace’s finger, Joshua and Gabe finished with the dinner preparations. Miriam tried to help, but they shooed her away.

“I’m practically well, you know.”

“
Wunderbaar
. We like the practically well people to wait in the other room until we call them.” Joshua handed Gabe the cornbread pan as he dished up the chicken and dumplings into bowls.

By the time they had placed everything on the table, Grace’s finger was bandaged, and she was completely distracted by Abigail’s knowledge of herbs.

Gabe was relieved the situation had calmed so quickly. He was relieved Grace’s burn was minor. And he was especially relieved to see that Miriam was indeed on the mend.

However, he knew he had some explaining to do, and he knew he wouldn’t leave the King house without doing it. Miriam sent him the occasional worried glance, punctuated by more than one long stare. Yes, he would be explaining to Grace’s teacher what had happened earlier. Correction—he would be explaining to his
freind
what happened. He owed her that much.

The question was when.

And the answer came when Joshua took Grace to the barn to feed scraps to Pepper. Abigail insisted on taking care of the dishes alone. Gabe and Miriam were in the sitting room, playing a game of checkers next to the iron stove.

Miriam had taken two of his pieces. What he had left was cornered on his end of the board.

“Give it up,” she said. “You can’t win.”

“What a terrible thing to tell your houseguest.”

“I’m being honest with you.”

“
Ya
, but I could—”

“No, that won’t work. You tried it the last game.”

“How about—”

“Uh-uh.”

“Oh.
Ya
, you’re right.” Gabe tapped the table, hoping another idea would come to him.

“Stop staring at the board and explain to me what happened with Grace earlier.”

He would rather endure losing another game of checkers again, but she wasn’t going to be satisfied letting him suffer silently in defeat—so he pushed back from the board, looked across the table, and tried to think of how to begin.

Chapter 37

M
iriam wanted to shake him.

He’d already wasted twenty minutes playing checkers and making small talk.

He wasn’t good at either. Soon Grace would be back and they wouldn’t be able to speak openly.

“Gabe, she was terrified. Why?”

Scrubbing a hand over his face, he stared out at the inky night, as if he could find something there that would make the telling easier. Finally he turned and met her gaze.

“Her
mamm
died at her parents’ home, and we were there—Grace and I.” The memories came slowly, softly, but with a wealth of what he was feeling packed inside each word. “My
fraa
had been sick for many months. The night she passed, Grace woke from a dream, crying for her
mamm
. I had been by Hope’s bed for two days. I…”

He looked again into the darkness and then down at the checker board. “I didn’t want to be away at the end. Maybe it was my fault. Maybe I should have spent more time with our
dochder
. She was such a little thing, and she didn’t understand…”

His words drifted off, but his eyes locked onto hers, sending a tremor through her heart.

“What happened, Gabe?”

“She came running into the room just after Hope passed. I…I didn’t see her come in or I might have stopped her. I might have at least tried to explain. She threw herself at the bed and tried to crawl up on it. She was crying and screaming, and then Hope’s father walked into the room. It was the dead of night.”

There had been so much emotion in his voice as he described that night—tenderness, agony, regret—but when he came to this part of the story, Gabe’s voice went flat, as if he were relating an event he’d read out of the
Budget
, as if he were telling something that had happened to someone else.

“I’ve replayed that moment in my mind many times. Though Micah was harsh, I believe he did only what was natural to him. He’s a hard man, and he’d just lost his
dochder
. No doubt he was hurting, but he was merely—merely keeping it inside.” The last four words were a whisper.

“He shouted at Grace to be silent. He told Erma to take her from the room. He said that he
would not have such a display in his home
.” Gabe shook himself free of the memory and smiled weakly. “He was like the wrath of
Gotte
come down on that room.”