A Promise for Miriam (37 page)

“We want to move in an expeditious but reasonable manner for all village business. Now, if there are any questions you would like answered at this time, Mr. Drake has sent two of his assistants here tonight.”

A young man and young woman, dressed in nearly identical black suits, waited near the right of the podium.

Samuel was the first from their group to stand. When Mrs. Goodland called on him, he spoke up loud and clear. Miriam found herself praying he wasn’t going to quote Scripture. Somehow she didn’t think it would further their cause here.

“We’d like to know where Mr. Drake came up with the name for his new facility.”

Mr. Drake’s two appointees eyed each other. Then the man, a redhead with a small goatee, stepped forward to answer Samuel. “That is an excellent question. We had a marketing team come up with a name that would catch the attention of—”

“What I mean is that Amish folk…” Samuel glanced to the right at the three of them, the only other Plain people in the room. “Amish people don’t meet in an abbey. So the name seems more than a little inappropriate to us.”

There was some rumbling around them, and the man at the front turned to the young woman. Together they began consulting their notes, and then she pulled out her phone and pushed some buttons.

“Perhaps we could move on to the next question,” Mrs. Goodland said.

“But they haven’t answered the first one,” Samuel protested.

“I understand, Mr.—”

“Gingerich. Samuel Gingerich, and I tell you
the love of money is a root of all kinds of evil. Some people, eager for money, have wandered from the faith
—”

He was quoting Scripture from First Timothy to the village board in a public meeting? Miriam wanted to put her head in her hands.

Gabe sat quietly to her left, though his fingers had begun to tap out a nervous rhythm on his leg. When she glanced at Eli, there was no doubt about it. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

“Quiet.” Mrs. Goodland tapped her gavel against the podium as everyone began talking at once. “Quiet, please.”

Instead of hushing, the crowd only grew noisier. No one seemed to be listening to her, so she turned and spoke to one of the persons behind her. That person stood and hurried off the stage.

Gabe wasn’t surprised when one of the board members walked up to their group. Mrs. Goodland had ended the meeting somewhat abruptly with “More information will follow in the paper.”

As far as Gabe knew, they didn’t have a local paper, so perhaps she meant the
Lacrosse Tribune
, which sometimes covered events in the smaller local towns and villages. Other than that, if you wanted to know something, you asked a neighbor, listened to the radio, or had
kaffi
at the diner, where the old folks met.

How did he know these things after living in the Cashton area such a short time? Because some things were the same no matter where you lived. And because he listened more than he talked, especially when he went into town for supplies.

A young Hispanic woman approached them before they could make their way out of the building. “Mrs. Goodland would like to have a word with you in the boardroom, if you have a moment.”

“Do you work for the village president?” Eli asked.

“I’m the clerk. Technically, I work for the citizens of Cashton.”

“I suppose that means you work for us,” Gabe said with a smile. “Lead the way.”

They walked into the boardroom in the same order they had sat in the row—Samuel, Gabe, Miriam, and then Eli.

Janice Goodland greeted them cordially, everyone introduced themselves, and then she offered them all seats–which they refused. She didn’t bother with small talk.

“Obviously, you have some concerns about the project.”

“
Ya
. We have a list.” Eli pulled the small sheet of notepad paper from his pocket. When he noticed the expression on her face, he added, “It’s a short list. Only three items.”

After Eli had gone over their three points, Mrs. Goodland turned to the other members of her board. A tall, wiry man named Jim—Gabe thought he’d been introduced as the tax assessor—only shrugged.

He did remember that the shorter and rounder one handled money. That man shook his head adamantly and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He didn’t offer an explanation, but the frown and gestures were enough. Gabe was sure he was saving his comments for a private conversation with the other board members.

Miriam cleared her throat. “Surely you can understand my concerns as a schoolteacher. It’s my job to teach and, to some degree, protect the children under my care.”

“Yes.” Mrs. Goodland fiddled with the cap on a bottle of water. “I wouldn’t want one of our schools to be a stop on anyone’s tour, but I’m not sure that’s what Drake was intending.”

“Perhaps if we could speak with him,” Gabe suggested.

“I was thinking the same thing.” Mrs. Goodland walked over to a calendar laid open on a desk.

“We are not here to interfere in
Englisch
ways,” Samuel pointed out.

Mrs. Goodland had been running her finger down the calendar. At Samuel’s words, she paused and studied him a moment. “I’m sure you’re not. I’ve been president here for twelve years, Mr. Gingerich. In all that time, I’ve never had a group of Amish persons attend a public meeting. You strike me as quiet, private, law-abiding citizens.”

She circled a date in the book and closed it.

“You’ve also never failed to pay your taxes.” She looked at the tax assessor when she said this. “Wisconsin now has the fourth highest Amish population of any state, as you probably know.” She tapped a finger against her lips. “Actually, I wouldn’t mind having more Amish in Cashton. And while not everyone in that room tonight would agree with me, that’s all right. I don’t mind a little dissension. They would point out that there’s the occasional young Amish person on their…”

“
Rumspringa
,” Eli offered.

“Yes. And there are the horse droppings, the buggies that slow down traffic, and now and then conflict with the FDA over raw milk.”

“Natural milk,” Gabe corrected her.

“Call it what you like. My point is that I’ll put my crime rates beside a non-Amish community any day. Plain people make good neighbors, and I represent you as much as I represent everyone else who gathered here tonight.”

Gabe stared at her in surprise.

No one moved. He could tell the others in his group were as astonished as he was. Could they actually have found an advocate in the village president?

Mrs. Goodland reached for her bottle of water and began fiddling with the cap again. “But I do represent everyone else in that room as well, and they need jobs. Whether you like it or not, Amish communities increase tourism.”

Miriam shook her head, Eli stuck his hands in his pockets, and Samuel looked as if he were trying to decide which Scripture to spout next.

Gabe jumped in before the tone of the meeting could deteriorate. “We’re not here to stand in the way of anyone’s job, Mrs. Goodland, but these three things Eli mentioned…surely there is a way to present them to Mr. Drake. Surely there is a way to have both the jobs which people need and still maintain respect for our way of life.”

“A compromise?” she asked.

The room was quiet, but it was obvious everyone was in agreement.

“Okay. Two weeks from Friday,” she said. “I’ll set it up with Drake. We’ll meet here.”

Chapter 45

T
he driver Miriam’s father hired arrived early Friday morning.

“I’m glad you’re going with me,” she confessed as they walked toward the car.

“This is an important decision in your life. Besides, your old
dat
could use a day off the farm.” He tugged on his beard as he opened the car door for her.

Her parents had been incredibly supportive when she’d explained her predicament. Although she couldn’t believe there would be anything that would appeal to her in the New Order district where Aden was living, it seemed best to go and see. Abigail offered no words of wisdom, no proverb, as she checked that they had their overnight bags.

“Are you sure you won’t go with us?” Miriam asked.

“No. Your
bruders
are coming with the
grandkinner
. I promised we would make popcorn.” She paused to kiss the top of her daughter’s head, which spoke enough to the seriousness of the occasion—Abigail King was not one to demonstrate affection, especially in front of
Englischers.

Jocelyn, their driver, waited until everyone had buckled up before starting the shiny blue automobile and driving down the lane. Miriam had ridden in cars before, but not often and she didn’t relish a drive that would last nearly two hours. She missed her mare already. Immediately Jocelyn had Joshua talking about the weather and if the snowfall they’d had meant good planting in the spring.

Miriam stared out the window, watching the fields, hills, and creek she’d grown up around sail past her like leaves caught in a wind. How would it feel to leave all she’d ever known behind her? How would it feel to move away from this, returning only for the occasional holiday?

The road unwound like a skein of her mother’s yarn as they drove north and then east through a few towns, then more countryside, and finally to the community where Aden had settled.

“My sister lives north of here,” Jocelyn said. “It worked out well for me to drive you because I’ve been wanting to come up and see her. Are you sure you want me to drop you off here at the mercantile? I would be happy to take you to the home you’re visiting.”

“
Nein
. Aden said he would pick us up at noon.” Joshua helped Miriam out of the car and then claimed their overnight bags from the backseat.

“I’ll meet you back here tomorrow at six.”

“
Gut
.
Danki
, Jocelyn. We appreciate it.”

Miriam remembered to add her thanks at the last moment. She was busy staring at the store in front of her, where Amish families were walking in and out.

“It looks no different than our store,” she whispered.

“Perhaps a little bigger.” Joshua said. “Plain is Plain, Miriam. Don’t expect to see much that is different here.”

But there were differences. Joshua soon had his head stuck in the hardware section, asking the salesperson to explain how the gas stove worked and walking around the refrigerator, shaking his head.

When Aden found her, Miriam was staring at an
Englisch
coffeepot.

“This is for Amish use?” she asked.

“
Ya
. There’s no electrical cord. You set it on the gas-powered stove.”

Miriam shook her head, but she could feel a slow smile working its way across her features. “You New Order Amish are like children with your play toys. My
dat
is fascinated with the refrigerators.”

“Can you blame him? No more cutting blocks of ice from the lakes. A man could get behind that.” Aden waved a hand to Joshua and then walked her toward the coffee shop in the corner of the store. “Have you eaten?”

“
Nein
. We were waiting on you.”

Aden’s answer was a smile that pricked at her heart. Had it been fair to agree to come and visit him? Could she return his feelings?

Joshua bounded up like a pup let in from the outside. “Aden, have you seen these contraptions they are selling to put your food inside?”

“I have. All the families here have them.”

“And your bishop allows it?”

“
Ya
. No electricity needed.”

They ordered sandwiches and soup. While they waited, they discussed everything from the condition of the roads to happenings in Pebble Creek. What they didn’t talk about was the real reason for their visit. It sat on the table between them, like a giant Thanksgiving turkey no one had the courage to carve. Finally, Joshua sat back after accepting a refill of coffee from the waitress. He cleared his voice and gave both Miriam and Aden his serious, fatherly look. “My
dat
often said to me that if you want good advice, consult an old man.”

Aden smiled uncomfortably, and Miriam stared down into her tea and then back at her father.

“I don’t consider myself old. I also don’t know enough about your feelings for each other or enough about this community to offer either of you advice.”

Miriam glanced at Aden. This time she didn’t look away. She had a sudden urge to reach across the table and push the dark-blond hair back and away from his blue eyes.

Instead they both waited for her father to continue.

“I can’t say the gadgets here don’t interest me, but marriage is about more than what is convenient and what doodads a community allows. Aden, I assume you moved here for a reason, and I’m sure those reasons were
gut
. It speaks well to your hard work that you’ve been able to purchase your own place already—”

“It’s small,” Aden said.

“Many of us started on a small place. No need to apologize for that. We came to visit today because none of my
kinner
have moved more than a buggy ride away. Before I give my blessing for such a thing, I wanted to meet some of the families from your district, and Miriam—”