Miriam and the Stranger (5 page)

Katie nodded and appeared satisfied. “I’ll go tell Mose you’ll speak with him then.”

“You can go right out on the porch and talk with Mose there,” Aunt Fannie said, even before Katie was out of the kitchen. “I’ll personally keep the children away so you can enjoy some peace and quiet. Oh, Miriam, how
wunderbah
this is, and you’ll have lots to speak of in the short time he’ll be here. Surely Mose will bring you home from the hymn singing tonight. Tell him to stay for supper. Then he can drive you there with our buggy and bring you home. I’ll make a temporary bed for him in the basement, and he can make his way back to Deacon Phillips’s place tomorrow. Oh, Miriam this is so exciting!”

Aunt Fannie would have the wedding planned by this evening, Miriam told herself, and a wry smile crept over her face. She sobered moments later when Katie returned to say, “It’s all settled now.”

Aunt Fannie bubbled over with joy. “They can go out on the front porch with their popcorn bowls.”

“That’s perfect,” Katie agreed. She reached over to touch Miriam’s arm. “This is still a little sudden. Are you sure it’s okay?”

“She’s fine,” Aunt Fannie answered. “Remember that Miriam is a mature and sensible girl. And after what she’s suffered, she deserves this.”

Miriam attempted a smile. “It’s okay. I’ll speak with him, and we’ll go from there.”

Katie nodded her approval. Moments later Miriam found herself out on the front porch with Mose Stoll seated beside her. The
transition was a blur that didn’t quite register. She remembered Mose’s pleased face in the living room, followed by Uncle William’s encouraging smile as he held open the front door. Aunt Fannie deposited the popcorn bowls in their laps and made a hasty retreat. Now Mose seemed at a loss for words as they both gazed across the open prairie beyond Uncle William’s greenhouse.

“So you’re from Wayne County?” Miriam asked, gathering her wits.

Mose’s smile was a little tense. “
Yah
. I’m from the district of your soon-to-be brother-in-law, Glen Weaver.”

“Oh!” Miriam couldn’t keep the delight out of her voice. “Shirley’s promised man.”

“
Yah
.” Mose seemed to relax and regain the confidence he’d displayed earlier in the day. “They are a sweet couple for sure, and Glen’s a
gut
friend of mine. It’s through his suggestion that I’m here. Glen spoke right highly of you when he learned that I felt the time had come to move on with life. Because I guess you know that my
frau
passed this spring.”

“
Yah
, I know.” Miriam let her gaze linger on the distant horizon. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Glen told me you’ve had your own similar loss,” Mose said. “You must have suffered greatly. I at least had some warning when the cancer came. But you have done well, Glen said.”

“Thank you,” Miriam managed.

Mose was silent for a moment before he continued, “Anyway, for the rest of my story… I finally traveled down to your district a few Sundays ago and preached for them.” A smile played on Mose’s face. “But my real reason was to speak with your
daett
, which I did after the service.”

“And
Daett
said what?” Miriam asked.

“He spoke very highly of you,” Mose answered. “As has
everyone I’ve asked about you. And I clearly see it is all true. You have impressed me greatly so far, Miriam.”

Miriam looked away as the man’s gaze pierced into her soul. If
Daett
had approved of the man, that counted for something. Had not
Daett
spoken that
wunderbah
blessing to her over two years ago? She could still hear the words: “
You are a woman among a thousand, Miriam, full of the grace and the glory of the Lord. Blessed may your days be on this earth, and may a thousand people see the light of heaven in your life. May you live fully and walk the fruitful path that has been chosen for you. And remember that your mamm and I will always love you.”

“Did I say something wrong?” Mose asked, his concerned eyes peering at Miriam.

“Oh, no.” Miriam collected her thoughts. “I was just thinking of something
Daett
once told me.”

“I’m sure they were
gut
words,” Mose said as he settled back into his seat with a smile. Clearly
Daett
had made an equally decent impression upon Mose.

“
Daett
and I are close,” Miriam managed.

Mose looked up with a pleased expression. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me. A
daett
’s approval speaks well of any woman. I’m honored to have been told about you and to meet you, Miriam. Thanks for consenting to spend this time with me.”

“I am glad you came,” Miriam whispered.

Mose’s face had its tender look again. “I hope you’ll consent to seeing a little more of me—perhaps a lot more in the next few weeks. I can’t stay in the community very long, but I’d like to spend some time with you—whatever is decent, of course. I know this is all sudden, but I’m a cautious man, and I’ve proceeded the best I knew how. I didn’t feel comfortable writing a letter when you’d never heard of me, even though your
mamm
offered me the address.”

Miriam stole a quick glance at him before she said, “
Yah, Mamm
wrote there was a surprise coming my way, but I didn’t know it was you.” Mose was nothing like either her childhood sweetheart Ivan or Wayne, the man she had planned to marry, but maybe she should allow the Lord to choose her husband this time. Didn’t his request have all the markings of the Lord’s direction? There was
Daett
’s and
Mamm
’s approval, and that of Uncle William and Aunt Fannie, and Deacon Phillips and Katie.

“It’s okay,” Miriam said softly.

Mose’s pleased expression returned. “How do you spend your Sunday evening around here when you’re dating? I’m afraid I was married long enough to have forgotten.”

“I think Aunt Fannie already has the evening planned,” Miriam said with a smile.

Mose’s happy look remained on his face as he took his first bite of popcorn. They had forgotten to eat, Miriam noticed. She quickly picked up a few kernels herself.

Chapter Five

T
yler Johnson closed his laptop and slipped it into his carry-on bag. He couldn’t use the device for his meeting with the Amish Deacon Phillips Tuesday morning, but his technology would go with him on the trip regardless. How the Amish lived without such necessities of modern life was beyond him. He assumed there were side benefits. Maybe a connection could be made between a slower pace of life and the Amish’s fabled record of honesty and hardwork. That and the rosy-cheeked maiden named Miriam who had blushed at his presence the other evening.

Tyler grinned at the memory of his meal with the Bylers. The community’s schoolteacher was no dashing beauty, but she exuded a wholesomeness and depth of character he liked. The world could use more of those qualities. All the Amish he had met on this trip were good examples of what society should be. His article would have no criticism of the Amish, despite their old-fashioned refusal to adapt to modern American life.

His editor would be happy at that. The man had made it clear he wanted an article complimentary of the Amish, and especially of their unselfish efforts in that horrible tornado season a couple of years back. The two million-dollar donation to the Clarita Relief Fund had been impressive. But he wondered, where did these people find that kind of money to donate? And that wasn’t the only question that niggled at him. Had the funds been collected in small donations from here and there? That was difficult to imagine. The community only had so many members. Still they seemed prosperous enough, and friendly. William Byler and his wife, Fannie, had welcomed him into their home on the slightest of introductions. He could have been a mobster on the FBI’s most-wanted list for all Mr. Byler knew, but his story had been accepted without question.

Tyler shook his head as he left his motel room and allowed the door to slam behind him. His cell rang on the walk to his rental car. Tyler checked the number before he answered. Ah. Hilda.

“Good morning, dear,” Tyler said, tossing his carry-on on the backseat.

“Where are you, Ty?” Hilda cooed.

“Amish country,” Tyler chirped.

Hilda was nice enough, Tyler reminded himself, but he had no illusions about their relationship. He was a rich trust-fund kid, which did have an upside in addition to getting dates. For one thing he took on writing projects only when he wanted to—projects he liked.

“Amish country?” Hilda questioned. “What is Amish country?”

“You should educate yourself,” he teased. “The Amish are nice people.”

“I didn’t say they weren’t, but why are you with them?” Hilda probed with tension in her voice.

“Because I’m on an assignment, and they are the subject.”

“Oh, yes!” Comprehension dawned, and Hilda said, “I think I did hear about them once. They are a Stone Age people, aren’t they?”

Tyler laughed. “Something like that. So what can I do for you, dear?”

“Just wanted to hear your voice and ask when I’ll see you again.”

“Maybe when I’m back in town,” he hedged. “Don’t know when that will be, though. This might take a while.”

“What is there to know about Stone Age people?” she pouted. “They can’t be that interesting. Not like me.”

“No, that’s certainly true,” Tyler chuckled. “But assignments are assignments.”

“Okay.” She didn’t sound convinced. “But don’t forget to call.”

“How can I forget, dear?”

They both knew he wouldn’t have the chance. Hilda was the one who called him, and she would be the one to do so again.

“Goodbye,” Hilda twittered, and disconnected before he did.

Tyler slipped his cell phone back into the clip and climbed into the car, the face of the young Amish schoolteacher drifting through his mind. He couldn’t help but compare her simple grace and unadorned face with that of Hilda. Tyler grinned. Now there was a comparison. Hilda was a fully modern, dashing woman. She didn’t step out of the house without her beauty aids. Nor did a week pass without her appointment with the hairstylist. Not that he cared; he did admire the results.

Tyler shook his head at the comparison between the two women and drove out of the parking lot. In a very real sense, to people like Hilda the Amish
were
a Stone Age people. Even to him, the Amish world was a foreign world. But he had tasted a sample of their life the other evening at the Bylers’s home, and foreign or not, he had liked it. It was in some strange way… well… appealing. He had seen a genuineness in Miriam Yoder that he liked. Were
the Amish all as kind and peaceful as the ones he had met? Were there no closets with skeletons in them? Perhaps this morning’s interview with Deacon Phillips would be revealing. Maybe a flaw would pop up. He didn’t like the prospect, but the Amish lived with the same human nature as everyone else, even if they tried to hide out in communities. The truth was he hoped the Amish would survive the scrutiny. He didn’t need an additional ring of cynicism around his heart.

Tyler checked both ways before he drove into Coalgate’s main street. The midmorning traffic wasn’t heavy. He had eaten earlier at the Iron Cafe while what passed for the morning rush hour was on. Compared to Oklahoma City, it wasn’t worth a mention.

Tyler turned on the radio as he drove out of town. He flipped through the stations but shut off the volume when only country stations came up. Country music wasn’t his first choice, and besides, he needed to think and prepare himself. Deacon Phillips had given no indication what his answers would be in response to questions about the relief fund. Tyler knew he would have to dig, but with the Amish’s reputation for honesty, he thought he would receive straight answers if he asked the right questions. He also had another meeting this afternoon with the chairman of the Clarita Relief Fund, Mr. Westree. From Mr. Westree he had sensed all the usual signs of a man who could obfuscate and dodge with the skill worthy of a smooth politician.

Mr. Westree had reminded him, “We value and respect the wishes of our list of donors and recipients, Mr. Johnson. Remember that.”

“You know there are state and federal laws governing the disclosure of information,” Tyler had shot back.