A Promise for Miriam (31 page)

Miriam pulled in a deep breath. “So that’s why Grace was afraid tonight?”

“I suppose.”

“She was afraid my
dat
would…shout at her for crying?”

“It was
gut
for her to see that not all
grossdaddis
respond so harshly to tears.”

Miriam swallowed past the lump in her throat as she saw Grace and her
dat
walking from the barn to the house, holding the lantern between them. She knew the answer to her next question, but she had to ask it nonetheless.

“Gabe, is that why Grace didn’t speak when she first came here?”

“
Ya
. Micah told her to be silent, so she was. She was silent for more than three years.”

They went home soon after that. They were there long enough to share dessert and for Grace to play one game of checkers with Joshua. Gabe and Miriam’s
mamm
talked about the meeting that was to take place after church on Sunday. There was to be discussion over whether to elect four from among them to go and speak to the
Englischers
.

If a group was elected, they wouldn’t attempt to stop the building of Amish Abbey, but they would present their concerns about the project.

Gabe and the Kings were in agreement. All hoped the vote would be in favor of speaking with the
Englisch
, but Joshua wasn’t optimistic. Word was that Bishop Beiler and Clemens Schmucker were against it—two of the strongest voices among their group.

Gabe and Grace both asked about Miriam’s health again before they left, and she assured them she was fine. Actually, she had felt restless all day. She’d stayed home when Abigail had pointed out it would be difficult to teach with her frequent trips to the outhouse.

She didn’t remind her mother that the outhouse issue was due to the herbal remedies. They had helped with her congestion, but there were…side effects.

“Will you be back to school on Monday?” Gabe asked.

“Definitely. If I stay here, I’ll float away in
mamm
’s tea.” She said it after her mom had hurried back inside to fetch the leftovers she was sending home with Gabe.

“I’m glad you’re doing so much better. Grace was worried.” He reached out and touched her arm. “We both were.”

“
Danki
.” She felt warmth rise in her cheeks and knew it wasn’t from the fever. She was grateful they were standing in the darkness of the front porch.

As she said good night and watched Chance trot off down the lane, pulling the Miller buggy into the darkness, she tried to straighten out the feelings tumbling around inside.

She’d accepted in the last few days that she cared for Gabe and for Grace. His story tonight of what had happened with Hope’s dad had only strengthened those emotions.

Why did Gabe Miller confuse her so? She turned to head back into the house and nearly collided with her mother.

“Help me with the dishes?”

“Sure.” Miriam was a little surprised, because she’d heard nothing from her mother since coming home except “Rest,” “Stay in bed,” and “Don’t you have something to read?”

Standing at the sink and rinsing the dessert dishes, she was surprised to find that the warm water actually calmed the thoughts whirling around in her head.

“It was nice having Gabe and Grace over tonight.”

“Yes, it was.” Miriam’s instincts went on instant alert. Abigail wasn’t one for idle conversation.

“He’s such a nice young man.”

Uh-oh. They’d had this chat before, every time an unmarried man came within a field’s length of their home.

“He is a nice man, but we’re not going to have
that
conversation again, especially not
this
late in the evening. Are we?”

“What conversation do you mean, dear?”

“The one where you remind me I’ll soon have gray hairs peeking out from under my prayer
kapp
?” Miriam smiled as she accepted a
kaffi
mug from her and placed it in the rinse water.

“I thought it might help you to talk about Gabe. You seemed… worried after your time alone with him in the sitting room.”

Miriam wondered if what Gabe had told her was spoken in confidence but decided he wouldn’t mind her parents knowing. It would probably help if it were to happen again when Grace was over, and as they were the Millers’ closest neighbors, Grace would undoubtedly visit often. So she told the story of Hope’s death, Grace’s reaction, and how Micah had frightened the child into silence.

Abigail handed her the last dessert plate, released the plug on the water, dried her hands, and sat at the kitchen table, pulling her needlework toward her. “That certainly explains what happened tonight.”

“And why she didn’t speak when she came to school. Why she didn’t speak for
three
years. What a horrible thing for her own
grossdaddi
to do to her.”

Abigail didn’t answer. Instead, she peered at Miriam over her reading glasses and waited.

“The look? That’s it? You’re giving me the look?”

“Don’t be quick to judge, Miriam. You’re older and more mature than that.”

“Abigail, is there any pie left?” Joshua called from the sitting room.

“I’ve already put it all up for the night.” She wagged her sewing needle at Miriam. “Your
dat
doesn’t need that pie. Have you noticed he’s beginning to gain weight?”

“I heard that!”

“Hears well, but still—I believe he is gaining weight. I meant to have Doc Hanson check that.”

“Or we could weigh me on the scale I keep in the barn.”

“Back to Gabe and Grace,” Miriam said, ignoring her father. “Surely you agree it was a terrible thing for her
grossdaddi
to do.”

Abigail selected a different color thread and took her time fitting it through her needle. “We weren’t there when it happened.”

“But—”

“And we can’t really know what occurred or how it occurred. Gabe was deep in his grief, no doubt.”

“Still—”

“How many times have you corrected a child in the schoolroom, only to be told later that you hollered at them?”

“I hardly think this is the same thing.”

Abigail stitched a row on the baby quilt she was piecing together—Miriam could see now that’s what it was. Small ducks and rabbits took turns peeking out of the squares. She suddenly wished she had something for her hands to do, something rather than pick at loose threads on her sweater.

“You’re probably right,” Abigail admitted. “This is not the same. We don’t know this man, Micah, so we shouldn’t be judging him. That’s my point.”

After sewing for another moment, Abigail lowered her voice and continued. “Many Amish men suffer from depression. This is something we don’t speak of, Miriam. Our life is hard, and we won’t be complaining about that, but this Micah…what do we know of his life? What has he been through? After much suffering, perhaps, in the middle of the night his
dochder
dies and his
grossdochder
is screaming and he breaks. He snaps. He yells for her to stop. In his grief, he made a mistake—perhaps. It is not for us to judge.”

Miriam nodded, slowly, as she continued to pull on the thread she’d succeeded in unraveling from her sweater. “Gabe said something similar. He said maybe Micah was hurting, but keeping it inside.”

“Gabe seems mature.”

Miriam stared down at her hands. “I thought
that
was what you wanted to talk to me about—Gabe.”

“Is there anything to discuss?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe not.” Miriam stood and began moving things about the already clean kitchen.

“Maybe you want there to be?”

“It seems one moment we are growing closer and the next…” She picked up a dish towel and wiped off the clean counter.

“Yes?”

“The next moment he’s talking about Aden Schmucker. Why?” She smacked the counter with the towel. “Can you tell me why he’s so intent on pointing out what a respectable, successful person Aden is?”

Abigail smiled as she clipped her thread. “I might have noticed that he mentioned Aden a time or two.”

“‘Aden has a
gut
job in a buggy shop.’”

Abigail nodded.

“‘Aden has purchased a nice small farm.’”

Abigail’s eyebrows went up when Miriam dropped into the chair across from her.

“‘Aden comes home to Cashton at least once a month to check on his parents—what a respectful thing to do.’”

Abigail actually laughed. It might have only been a chuckle, but it counted.

“Why? Can you explain Gabe Miller to me?”

“I can’t. No more than I can explain your
dat
.”

“I heard that too, and I’d still like another piece of pie.”

Miriam put her head in her arms and began to consider sleeping there at the table. She heard Abigail stand, put up her sewing, and turn out the light.

When she felt her mother’s hands on her shoulders, kneading her sore muscles, Miriam almost groaned with relief.

“Perhaps Gabe merely wants what is best for you.”

“And that is Aden?” Miriam looked up at her
mamm
, feeling suddenly small and unsure of herself.

“I don’t know.” Abigail patted her arms as she smiled. “But it does sound as if he’s trying to convince himself that Aden might be best.”

Miriam kissed her hand.

“I like Gabe—a lot.”

“I know you do.”

“What if he’s best?”

“Then we’ll have to pray he figures that out.” As she was leaving the kitchen, she added, “Be sure and mend that sweater where you dug a hole in it.”

Chapter 38

N
ew Year’s Day. Grace had been on such an emotional seesaw that she’d forgotten all about New Year’s Day! First there’d been the sheer joy of receiving her kitten, Stormy, on Christmas morning. After that she’d plunged into despair worrying over Miriam, worrying she might stay sick or even grow worse. When they’d had dinner on Friday evening, Grace had been happier than she’d been in ages—happier even than when her
dat
had handed her Stormy with the ribbon around his neck. Up and down her emotions had gone over the last week, exactly like the seesaw behind the schoolhouse.

All of which explained why she’d forgotten about the letter. Or maybe she’d just pushed it to the back of her mind, the way she sometimes pushed thoughts of her
grossdaddi
Micah. She remembered him in her prayers at night, and she wasn’t mad at him. Her father had explained to her that her mother’s father loved them all in his own way, but her memories of the man were bad, and she didn’t want them in her mind.

The letter was a good thing, but it made her heart hurt a little, so maybe she had forgotten about it on purpose.

When she came to breakfast with her Sunday clothes on and her Bible in her hand, her
dat
was already sitting at the table.

“New month, Gracie. Time to turn the calendar page.”

She’d skipped across the kitchen. She loved turning the calendar page. To her way of thinking, it was like opening up her sketchbook to a clean white piece of paper. A new month was filled with new days to spend with Sadie, new weekends at home with Stormy, and there was no telling what new things might happen around their farm, which seemed to be adding new members each week.

Only this morning there wasn’t a new page to turn. Instead there was a new calendar on the kitchen counter, and she was supposed to place it on the hook on the wall. The calendar was filled with pictures of puppies and kittens. Her
dat
must have bought it at the store in Cashton while he was Christmas shopping.

She picked it up and slipped the hole at the top of the calendar over the hook on the wall.

January 1.

Letter day.

Her heart tripped a beat, and she almost dropped her Bible.

When she turned back to the table, she expected to see her mother sitting there, right beside her
dat.

Of course she wasn’t.

Her
dat
was alone, as always—his old mug clutched in one hand and the breakfast rolls Abigail had sent over on the table, warmed up already.

Sitting between them, though, was the letter.

She slid into the seat beside him, bowed her head, and they each silently prayed—or they were supposed to pray.

Not a single word came to mind.

Grace’s mind was blank. She didn’t know what to say to
Gotte
. What could she possibly hope was in that letter? She kept last year’s in the little box where she put all of her special things. She read it, but not too often. She was afraid if she read it too often the words might lose some of their specialness.

“Want to eat first?”

Grace shook her head. She knew she wouldn’t be able to swallow a single bite.

“Grace, do you remember why your
mamm
wrote you these letters?” Her
dat’s
voice was low and gentle.

“
Ya
.”

When he didn’t say anything else, she closed her eyes and swallowed. “
Mamm
wanted me to be able to hear her voice and her words. She wanted to leave me notes.”