Miriam's Heart. Emma Miller
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Old Order Amish,” his grandfather said.
“I know that,” John replied.
“Miriam, is she one of the twins?” his uncle asked.
“I think so.”
“The big one or the little one?”
“The little one.”
“Pretty as a picture,” Uncle Albert observed.
“Yeah,” John admitted, getting up and attempting a quick escape into the house before they pressed the issue any further.
Truth be told, he was sweet on Miriam Yoder and he was pretty certain she liked him. And it wasn’t just her looks or the physical chemistry between them that attracted him. She was easy to talk to and shared his love of animals. Although he always knew he would marry and have children someday, John hadn’t seriously dated since his final year of vet school, when his girlfriend of three years had broken up with him. Alyssa, the daughter of a Baptist minister, had broken his heart and after that he had filled in what little spare time he had with family. It had been so long that he had forgotten what it felt like to be so strongly attracted to a woman. The fact that Miriam was Amish complicated the matter even further.
His grandfather chuckled. “He’s sweet on her.”
“Good luck with that,” Uncle Albert said. “I’ve heard those Yoder girls can be a handful.”
John paused in the doorway and looked back. “Sometimes,” he said softly, “a handful is just the kind of woman a man is looking for.”
Chapter Three
Miriam and Anna were just setting the table for breakfast the following morning when they heard the sound of a wagon rumbling up their lane. Miriam, who’d showered after morning chores, snatched a kerchief off the peg and covered her damp hair before going to the kitchen door. “It’s Charley,” she called back as she walked out onto the porch. He reined in his father’s team at the hitching rail near the back steps.
“Morning.” The wagon was piled high with bales of hay.
“You’re up and about early,” she said, tucking as much of her hair out of sight as possible. Wet strands tumbled down her back, and she gave up trying to hide them. After all, it was only Charley.
“Where are you off to?” Behind her, Jeremiah yipped and hopped up and down with excitement. “Hush, hush,” she said to the dog. “Irwin! Call him. He’ll frighten Charley’s team.”
Irwin opened the screen door and scooped up the little animal. “Morning, Charley,” he said.
Charley climbed down from the wagon. “I’m coming here,” he said as he tied the horses to the hitching rail. “Here.”
“What?” she asked. Curious, Irwin followed her down the porch steps into the yard, the whining dog in his arms.
Charley laughed. “You wanted to know where I was going, didn’t you?”
She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t understand. We didn’t buy any hay from your father.”
“Ne.” He grinned at her. “But you lost a lot of your load in the creek. My Dat and Samuel and your uncle Reuben wanted to help.”
She sighed. The hay she’d lost had already been paid for. There was no extra money to buy more. “It’s good of you,” she said, “but our checking account—”
“This is a gift to help replace what you lost.”
“All that?” Irwin asked. “That’s a lot.”
She looked at the wagon, mentally calculating the number of bales stacked on it. “We didn’t have that much to begin with,” she said, “and not all our bales were ruined.”
Charley tilted his straw hat with an index finger and chuckled. “Don’t be so pigheaded, Miriam. I’m putting this in your barn. You’ll take it with grace, or explain to your uncle Reuben, the preacher, why you cannot accept a gift from the members of your church who love you.”
Moisture stung the back of her eyelids, and a lump rose in her throat. “Ya,” she managed. “It is kind of you all.”
Charley had always been kind. Since she’d been a child, she’d known that she could always count on him in times of trouble. When her father had died, without being asked Charley had taken over the chores and organized the young men to set up tables for supper after the funeral and carry messages to everyone in the neighborhood. A good man…a pleasant-looking man—even if he did usually need a haircut. But he’s just not the man I’d want for a husband, she thought, recalling her conversation with Ruth last night. Not for me, no matter what everyone else thinks.
He walked toward her, solid, sandy-haired Charley, bits of hay clinging to his pants and shirt, and pale blue eyes dancing. Pure joy of God’s good life, her father called that sparkle in some folks’ eyes. He was such a nice guy, perfect for a friend. Ruth was right, he would make someone a good husband; he would be perfect for sweet Anna. But Charley was a catch and he’d pick a cute little bride with a bit of land and a houseful of brothers, not her dear Plain sister.
“We’re family. We look out for our neighbors.”
She nodded, so full of gratitude that she wanted to hug him. This is what the English never saw, how they lived with an extended family that would never see one of their own do without.
“I’m happy to make the delivery and I’d not turn down a cup of coffee,” Charley said. “Or a sausage biscuit, if it was offered.” He gestured toward the house. “That’s Anna’s homemade sausage I smell, isn’t it? She seasons it better than the butcher shop.”
“Ya,” Irwin said. “It’s Anna’s sausage, fresh ground. And pancakes and eggs.”
Miriam laughed. “We’re just sitting down to breakfast. Would you like to join us?”
“Are Reuben’s sermons long?” Charley chuckled at his own jest as he brushed hay from his pants. “I missed last night’s supper. I’m not going to turn down a second chance at Anna’s cooking.” Then he glanced back toward the barn. “How are your horses?”
“Blackie’s stiff, but his appetite is fine. Molly’s no worse. I got her to eat a little grain this morning, but she’s still favoring that hoof. John said he’d stop by this afternoon.” She followed him up onto the porch and into the house. Irwin and the dog trailed after them.
“Miriam invited me to breakfast,” Charley announced as he entered the kitchen, leaving his straw hat on a peg near the door.
Mam rose from her place. “It’s good to have you.”
“He brought us a load of hay,” Miriam explained, grabbing a plate and extra silverware before sitting down. She set the place setting beside hers and scooted over on the bench to make room for him. “A gift from Uncle Reuben, Samuel and Charley’s father.”
Ruth smiled at him as she passed a plate of buckwheat pancakes to their guest. “It’s good of you. Of all who thought of us.”
“I mean to spread those bales that got wet,” Charley explained, needing no further invitation to heap his plate high with pancakes. “If the rain holds off, it could dry out again. I wouldn’t give it to the horses, but for the cows—”
“We could rake it up and pile it loose in the barn when it dries,” Miriam said, thinking out loud. “That could work. It’s a good idea.”
“A good idea,” Susanna echoed.
The clock on the mantel chimed the half hour. “Ach, I’ll be late for school,” Mam exclaimed. She took another swallow of coffee and got to her feet. When Charley started to rise, she waved him back. “Ne, you eat your fill. It’s my fault I’m running late. The girls and I were chattering like wrens this morning