Miriam's Heart (15 page)

“You can tell me anything. You ought to know that by now. I’d never judge you or think less of you, no matter what you say or do.”

“Thank you. That means a lot to me.”

They walked on, closer now, but not touching. Alone like this, it was more important than ever that they do nothing that would be considered improper. The trees were close on either side of the farm lane and the branches grew together overhead, forming an archway of light and shadow.

Birds fluttered overhead through the canopy of green leaves, calling to one another and singing cheerfully. From time to time, Miriam could catch a flash of scarlet or blue feathers as a cardinal or blue jay flew up at their approach. Miriam had walked this way dozens of times to Charley’s house, but she’d never seen the woods so beautiful.

“Would you come early enough to share supper with us?” Charley asked after a few minutes. “Tomorrow, before we go fishing—you and Irwin. Mam will have plenty. She always does. Usually, on Monday, she makes a pot of vegetable soup to go with whatever is leftover from dinner.”

Miriam hesitated. “Not yet, I think. If Irwin and I come to eat, everyone will think that you and I…that we’ve come to an agreement.”

“Oh.” He sounded disappointed.

“But I could pack a picnic and the three of us could eat at the pond.” She smiled at him. “Before we start catching all those fish.”

Charley nodded. “You’re right. Mam would think it was settled and she’d start dropping hints about wedding dates. The picnic is a better idea.”

“A lot simpler for both of us.”

“It’s what I am, what I’ll always be,” he said. “
Simple.
I work with my hands and try to follow God’s laws as instructed by our faith and the
Ordnung.
” He looked into her eyes. “But I’d promise to love you and care for you more than anybody else could. I want us to be together, to make a good Amish home, and God willing, I want us to have children together. Is that wrong, Miriam?”

She shook her head. “Not wrong, but it would be wrong if I didn’t feel the same way about you. If we weren’t right for each other.”

“You know, I think I’ve always loved you.”

“Charley, don’t. Please. Let’s keep it not so serious.”

“But we’re walking out together. This is when I’m supposed to tell you what I feel in my heart. Isn’t it?”

“We’re walking out to see if we’re…” She stopped and then started again. “I know how I feel, but I don’t know how to explain it.”

“I think you love me, too, but you’re just too stubborn to admit it.”

“Charley, I—”

“What is this?” a deep voice demanded.

Miriam looked up to see Uncle Reuben standing in the path ahead of them. “We’re not late for services, are we, Uncle?”

“Ne!”
His expression was stern, his posture rigid. “You should not be here together without someone,” he said. “It looks bad for young people to walk together without a chaperone. You know better.”

“It’s my fault,” Charley said. “I walked over to the Yoders’ this morning and asked Miriam to—”

“You and I will talk later.” Uncle Reuben pointed toward Charley’s house just visible through the trees. “Go and join the men. It is Miriam I wish to speak to.”

Appearing uncertain, Charley glanced at her, then back at Uncle Reuben. “If she’s in trouble, it’s not her fault,” he defended. “I’m not leaving her.”

“Charley Byler. Are you questioning my authority?”

Charley shook his head. “No, Preacher Reuben. But we did nothing wrong and I wouldn’t want you to think otherwise. I was just walking Miriam to service.”

Her uncle frowned. “What I have to say to Miriam is private.”

“Go on, Charley,” Miriam urged. Her knees felt weak, but she knew she was innocent of any wrong doing. “Please, Charley,” she murmured. “It’ll be all right. I’ve done nothing to be ashamed of.”

Uncle Reuben motioned to Charley. “Go on now, before you make things worse.”

Charley met her gaze, saw that she meant what she said and reluctantly walked away. When he was out of hearing range, her uncle took her hand in his.

“There is talk, Miriam, talk that worries me.”

She blinked back tears. “Is this my uncle speaking to me, or my preacher?”

“Today,” he said, “I speak to you as one of the shepherds of our faith. I have come, child, to deliver your first official warning from the bishop.”

M
iriam’s stomach knotted as she stared at her uncle. He appeared so solemn in his good black coat and black felt hat. Usually, he looked like the other men in the community, but a bit Plainer. He wore his battered straw hat way into the fall, his old suspenders that had come apart and been knotted on the left side and worn blue trousers with patches on the knees. Not today. This morning, he looked the stern Amish preacher that the English liked to picture on their postcards.

Uncle Reuben was a serious man who rarely smiled, but his faded blue eyes were usually kind and his voice soft. Today, his tone was grating and she saw no kindness in his expression, nothing but disapproval and disappointment.

She was in trouble,
real
trouble. Among the Old Order Amish, the rule of the bishop and his two ministers was law. Their decisions on behavior in the community were absolute. If they decided that her behavior was loose, she could be placed under
meidung.
If she was shunned, she would be forbidden to enter the worship service…unable to sit at the same table with her family and friends. Those she loved most might be forced to close their doors to her.

“What are you warning me about?” she managed, when she found her voice.

“You know what. Your behavior with the veterinarian.”

“I don’t know what behavior with John you’re talking about,” she protested.

“Bishop Atlee, Deacon Samuel and Preacher Perry have all mentioned your name to me this week. And what they said wasn’t praiseworthy. It’s my duty to tell you that you are treading on thin ice.” He let go of her hand. “A witness told me that John Hartman dropped you off at your house last night, very late. And you were alone. This was not a trip in the middle of the day, as was the day you went to Easton which, as you know, was concern enough. But this is too much. Miriam Yoder does not ride in a car seated next to a man in the dark, unchaperoned.”

“I
was
with John last night, but I
wasn’t
alone. My sister was with me. He took us to Rehoboth Beach.”

Her uncle studied her face. “I was told differently.”

“By whom?”

“That’s not important. What matters is your reputation and that of our community.”

Miriam summoned all her courage. She had known there would be consequences to her decision to court two men at once and it was up to her to defend that decision. “Uncle Reuben, I have a right to know who is bearing false witness against me.”

“Is it false?”

“Absolutely. Susanna was with us. You can ask my mother and sisters. Mam gave me permission to go to the boardwalk with John, but we had Susanna with us the whole time.”

“Then why didn’t your brother-in-law see Susanna in the cab of John’s truck? Wilmer told me that he saw only the two of you, and you were sitting in the middle, beside John.”

Miriam felt a flare of anger. Wilmer was spying on her? What other reason would he have had for being there that time of night? But she made herself remain calm. She nodded. “That’s true, I
was
sitting beside him in his truck. But Susanna was there, too. She fell asleep. I had my arm around her and her head was in my lap. When we arrived home, Ruth and Anna met us at his truck. Susanna was so sleepy that they had to help her up the stairs to bed.” She felt a quick surge of anger. “I can’t believe Wilmer went to you with this. With…with falsehoods!”

“It was out of concern for your welfare and for that of your family. He means you only good, Miriam. With your father dead and your mother with no adult sons, your sister’s husband might be considered the head of your family.”

“Wilmer Detweiler?” She set her hands on her hips, her face flushing with anger that she fought again to keep out of her tone. “How can he take my father’s place? He hardly ever walks through our door and he never speaks to any of us. Wilmer is a moody, mean-spirited man and if he went to you, it was to get me in trouble.”

“Hush such talk,” her uncle said. “Wilmer is a member of our church, husband to your own sister. Where is the charity in your heart?”

“Where’s the charity in his?” She caught herself before she said more. It would be wrong to accuse Johanna’s husband of being a bad father to his own children, or of Wilmer having an unkind reason for going to Reuben with this tale. She would be no better than he if she made such accusations.

He raised his hands, palm out. “Miriam.”

“You’re right,” she said, lowering her gaze respectfully. “Perhaps my brother-in-law did mean the best for us. But he was mistaken. I wasn’t alone with John last night. Not for a minute.”

“I believe you,” her uncle said after a moment. “But I must ask you, what is John to you? Have you thought what you may be risking, to associate so freely with a Mennonite?”

“Yes, Uncle, I have thought of it. And the truth is, I don’t know how I feel about John. I’m trying to find out.”

“So you
are
walking out with John?”

“I like him very much, Uncle Reuben. He’s my friend.” She tried to think before she spoke. “And…and if what I feel is more…”

“Then why are you allowing Charley to court you?”

She sighed. “It’s complicated.”

“It’s wrong. It puts Charley in a bad light. You must decide if you want to be baptized and live according to the
Ordnung
or leave us and go out among the English. And know that if you do go, you will break your mother’s heart, not to say that of your sisters and all those in Seven Poplars who love you.”

“But I haven’t yet been baptized.” She gazed into his craggy face. “Shouldn’t I see something of the world before I make the decision?”

Her uncle sighed. “The outside world is not as exciting as you might think.” He glanced toward Charley’s house. “Enough. We will be late. I will tell the bishop and the other elders that Wilmer was mistaken.”

“So I’m not in danger of being punished?” Emotion caught in her throat. “Of being shunned?”

“Oh, child, where is your understanding? No one said anything of being shunned. Do you think that
meidung
is an act of punishment? One we would place on you lightly or without sufficient cause? Shunning is an act of love, Miriam, used only in the most extreme cases to save one of our own.”

“And there are two warnings before shunning,” she said. She looked up at him. “Is this still the first?”

“I think you should be more concerned about your attitude and not the legalities of your situation, but I see no reason to give you an official warning if Wilmer was mistaken. But as your uncle, I warn you to be more careful.” He gestured toward the Byler house. “Go now and take your place among the women. It would not do to interrupt services on the Sabbath.”

“Go without me, Uncle. I need a few minutes alone.”

“You give me your word that you will come?”

She nodded. “I will. I need the peace of church right now more than ever.”

Uncle Reuben hurried away and Miriam just stood there on the wooded lane, trying not to cry. How had she caused so much trouble for her family when all she wanted to do was to make the right choice for her future? She felt so confused, so…not in control.

“Miriam?” Charley stepped out from behind a wild rosebush not twenty feet away. “Are you all right?”

She blinked. “I thought you went—”

“I’m sorry, Miriam.” He came to her and took her hands. “I started to do what he told me, but I couldn’t leave you. I doubled back and hid in the trees. “You don’t need to worry. I didn’t hear what Preacher Reuben said to you, but—”

She pulled her hands out of his. “No, I want to tell you.” She caught one bonnet string between her fingers and twisted it nervously. “Wilmer went to my uncle and accused me of going out with John alone, last night. It’s not true.” Quickly she explained that Susanna had been with her all evening. “And Uncle Reuben says that I’m being unfair to you because I’ve gone places with John and that people are talking.”

Charley bristled, then pulled her close and hugged her. “They’d better not say it to me.”

She laid her head on his shoulder for a long minute, feeling small and frightened in his arms.

He released her, stepped back and gazed into her eyes. “You’re doing nothing wrong, Miriam. Take all the time you need. You know I love you and want you for my wife, but I want you to be certain that it’s me you want. I don’t want to be second-best, the man you were forced to marry to make everyone else happy.”

“I’d never do that to you,” she promised, rubbing her eyes. A few tears escaped down her cheeks and Charley handed her a new handkerchief from his pocket.

“Do you feel like going to church?” he asked. “If you don’t want to, I’ll stay with you. I could walk you home or—”

“I want to go to services. No matter how bad I feel, the hymns and listening to God’s word always lift my spirits.” She sniffed. “And if I didn’t go, it would look like I’m ashamed—that I
have
something to hide.”

He offered his hand again. “Then, let’s go together.”

She smiled, but tucked her hands behind her back. “Gladly, but there’s no need to shock anyone. It
is
the Sabbath. And we’d better hurry, or we’ll be late and we’ll both be in hot water.”

Side by side, they walked across the field to Charley’s mother’s house, where the sounds of the first hymns were already sounding. “You go in through the kitchen,” he suggested. “Your mother will think you’ve been helping out with the babies. I’ll come from the front. Some of the younger guys are always sneaking in during the first hymn. No one will notice.”

She laughed. “Wishful thinking. You and me both late? Everyone will notice.”

He grinned at her. “It won’t be the first time we’ve been in trouble, though, will it?”

“Hardly,” she agreed. They were approaching the back of the farmyard. Rows of black buggies were lined up, but the horses had been turned into the pound or tied in the barn and sheds. Nothing was stirring but one gray tomcat and a bantam rooster.

“Before you go, I wanted to ask you something,” Charley said as they reached the farmyard. “After church, this evening, could you take a ride with me—with one of your sisters, or
all of them?
Reuben can come, too, if he wants.” He grinned and she grinned back. “I’ve got something I want you to look at.”

“What is it?” she asked.

“You’ll see. It’s a surprise.”

It was after seven o’clock that night when Hannah, Susanna, Charley and Miriam arrived at a home near Felton. Charley had hired a driver so that they wouldn’t be out on the roads late in his father’s buggy. It was evident to Miriam that the owners must be English, because the prefab house had a large satellite dish on the side lawn and an SUV and a pickup in the driveway.

“Tony works with me,” Charley explained. “He knows that we use horses and he thought I might know someone who could help.”

Puzzled, Miriam followed her mother and sister out of the van. The driver remained inside, listening to the radio, as Charley led the way to a white lean-to shed in the backyard. It had a Pennsylvania Dutch hex sign painted on the door and a fake weather vane on top. They were met by a man and a boy about six years old that Charley introduced as Tony and T.J. The little boy stared at them, but Miriam didn’t mind. She knew that their Amish clothing must look as odd to T.J. as his red and yellow cartoon T-shirt and his short-cropped hair with the little rattail at the back appeared to Susanna.

“A fellow from the Air Force base boarded the pony here at my sister’s for a few weeks,” Tony explained as he opened the door to the shed. “Sherry loves animals and she can never pass up a sob story. The guy told her he rescued it from some trailer park and that it was temporary, her keepin’ it, but then he must have been transferred or something because his phone was disconnected when she tried to call him when she didn’t hear from him.”

“Tony told me that the horse needed medical care,” Charley explained to Miriam and her family.

“It’s gentle enough to let kids crawl all over it.” Tony walked in and switched on a ceiling light. “Sherry doesn’t have the money to pay for a vet or to buy horse chow. This week she got a postcard from California. The guy who left the animal said sell it for what he owed her in board.” He shook his head. “Sherry doesn’t want to sell it. She feels sorry for it. She just wants to find the horse a good home.”

Miriam wasn’t listening anymore. Her attention was fixed on the ragged pony tied to a ring on the far wall. It was a brown and white pinto, standing about fourteen hands, with a dark mane and tail. Sadly, the animal appeared to be in terrible condition, ungroomed, hooves grown out, mane and tail tangled and so thin that her ribs showed.

“Poor
maedchen,
” she crooned, going to the pony and stroking her neck. An empty bucket lay overturned on the concrete floor amid a few handfuls of what appeared to be corncobs and lawn clippings.

“Like I said.” Tony sounded apologetic. “He needs a vet, but Sherry’s a single mother with three kids and an ex that doesn’t pay regular child support. She can’t afford to take care of another stray.”

Charley came to Miriam’s side. “What do you think? Tony said Sherry told him the pony’s trained to a carriage. With a little fattening up, she might make a good addition to your farm.”

“It’s a girl?” Tony bent and peered at the pony’s underside. He was a big man with a bigger belly, bald, with the complexion of someone who’d spent a lifetime working outdoors. “Sherry thought it was a boy horse.”

“It’s a mare,” Charley said, trying not to laugh.

Miriam checked the pony’s teeth and then scratched behind her ears. She could see that the animal was young, no more than five or six years old, but her hooves were in terrible shape. Miriam couldn’t tell if they’d ever been trimmed. They were cracked and so long that they curled up in the front. The pony was watching with huge brown eyes, eyes that seemed to be begging,
Help me. Please, get me out of here.