A Blessing for Miriam (32 page)

Aunt Fannie pulled Miriam close for another tight hug. “I’m so sorry. You should eat something before you go. You’ll need your strength.”

Miriam stifled her protest. She couldn’t possibly stand to eat at the moment, even though she knew Aunt Fannie was right. Life did go on, and she must travel with it. “Maybe later,” Miriam promised.

Aunt Fannie took Miriam’s hand and led her inside. Uncle William and Deacon Phillips came in through the washroom door and seated themselves.

Miriam didn’t remember Aunt Fannie calling them to breakfast, but maybe that wasn’t so surprising. Her ears buzzed with each step, and the usually quiet house seemed to drone on and on and on.

Aunt Fannie helped Miriam into a kitchen chair and seated herself next to her. Across the table, Uncle William and Deacon
Phillips bowed their heads. Miriam followed their example. She couldn’t eat, but prayer was needed…desperately needed. Her sobs came again as Uncle William prayed aloud:

Oh, God, the great Ruler of heaven and earth. Our hearts cry out to You this morning in our great sorrow. We do not understand Your ways or the choices You have made. Be with us. Let not bitterness take root in our hearts. Give strength to Miriam this morning and in the days ahead. Quiet the pain in her heart as she lives through these next few hours and days. Carry her in Your loving arms. You have given us so much good in life, and now that evil has come, let us not question the mercy of Your hand.

Oh Mighty One, You’ve given us Jesus, Your only begotten Son, for our redemption and for our peace. We shall never know the sorrow You felt when Christ cried out on that cruel cross, “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?” We shall never be forsaken, regardless of the dark valleys we walk through or the depths to which our human spirits plunge. For this we give You thanks for the hollow of Your hand that hides us in these troubled times.

Miriam pressed Aunt Fannie’s handkerchief against her face as Uncle William continued with his prayer of thanksgiving for the food. She couldn’t listen any longer or hear the words even if she wanted to. The noise in her head was too loud. The Lord would understand. Was He not the God of compassion and mercy? Had He not given her Wayne’s love in the first place? She would trust Him. The One who gave also had the right to take away.

“Come, you must eat,” Aunt Fannie’s voice whispered in Miriam’s ear. The prayer had finished apparently. Uncle William and
Deacon Phillips’s voices were hushed as they made plans for the day. A spoon touched her lips, and Miriam automatically opened her mouth. She was like baby Jonathon right now, helpless and unable to fend for herself. No one seemed to think this strange. She swallowed.

After a few more bites, Aunt Fannie pressed the spoon into Miriam’s hand. “I’m sorry, but you must eat.”

Miriam obeyed until the bowl was empty. It seemed so wrong. How could her body accept nourishment when Wayne was gone? Yet life stirred around her. The Lord still lived, and so did she. She would have to face the world.

“That’s a good girl,” Aunt Fannie said quietly. “Are you ready to go now?”

Miriam didn’t answer, but stood up from the table. Uncle William and Deacon Phillips had gone. She hadn’t noticed their departure. Baby Jonathon was in Aunt Fannie’s arms, and he smiled at her.

“The breakfast dishes…” Miriam said. “We can’t leave them.”

Aunt Fannie didn’t answer, but she gripped Miriam’s arm to steer her outside. Uncle William waited with Sally and the buggy. Aunt Fannie handed baby Jonathon up to him, and then she turned to help Miriam into the back. Miriam didn’t resist. She settled into the buggy seat with slow motions. Her whole body ached. The drive over to the Yutzy place was a blur of motion outside the buggy door and the soft beats of Sally’s hooves on dirt roads. Aunt Fannie helped Miriam out again when they arrived, and from there into the house.

“She would see him,” Aunt Fannie told Bishop Wengerd, who was standing at the front door.

“Have you not heard the condition of his body?” the bishop protested.

“She would see him,” Aunt Fannie repeated firmly.

Bishop Wengerd shrugged and led them into the front bedroom
on the first floor. Miriam waited near the door, listening to the sounds of screws being turned in wood. It seemed a long time before Bishop Wengerd stepped aside. Aunt Fannie stayed by the bedroom door as Miriam approached the casket on her own. Another casket sat on the other side, and Miriam reached over briefly to touch its rough-sawn lumber. Then she gazed into the opened casket. He didn’t look like her Wayne. Maybe it was best if things were this way. She would remember him as he had been—alive and in love with her.

“It is enough,” Miriam said to no one particular. She turned from the casket. Aunt Fannie caught her just before she slipped to the floor.

Miriam struggled to stay aware, barely realizing Aunt Fannie was holding her up. She didn’t say anything as Aunt Fannie guided her into the living room and into a chair. She would stay here until the funeral was over. That would be the day after tomorrow perhaps. She would not move from the house or from Wayne’s side until they lowered him into the ground. She’d lost him and would say goodbye, depending on God and on memories of Wayne to get her through. That she would always have. Memories. That would have to be enough apparently. The Lord had so willed it, and one did not argue with Him.

Chapter Thirty-Two

M
iriam awoke with a start in the upstairs bedroom of the strange house. The faint light of dawn was on the horizon, but the rays of sunlight had yet to penetrate past the drapes across the window. She remembered she was at Wayne’s Uncle Raymond’s house, and today was Wayne’s funeral. She hadn’t wanted to sleep, but Raymond’s wife, Louise, had insisted that she climb the stairs in the wee hours of the morning.

“Try to shut your eyes at least,” Louise had begged. “You need your strength for tomorrow.”

Like she needed food, Miriam told herself, the thought bitter. But Louise was right.
Mamm
and
Daett
would be here this morning, along with Wayne and Joy’s parents, Eugene and Rosemary. The traveling party all the way from Possum Valley would be more exhausted than she was, even if her whole body ached to the bone. They should be here soon. Miriam stood and pushed aside the drapes on the window. A van was parked below, and several figures had climbed out. The familiar forms of
Mamm
and
Daett
brought
a sharp intake of breath. The arrival of the van must have been what had awakened her. Miriam pinned her
kapp
on her head and hurried down the dark stairwell.

“They’re here!” Louise whispered from near the kitchen doorway. “I was ready to come up and awaken you.”

Miriam nodded and followed Louise outside. The crisp coolness of the morning air flooded over her face and dried the tears that had formed on her cheeks.
Mamm
came toward her with her arms opened wide, and Miriam ran the last few steps to meet her. With a loud sob, she let herself be wrapped in her
mamm
’s arms. “He’s gone,
Mamm
! He’s gone!” Miriam wailed. “And you never got to meet him.”

“I know,”
Mamm
comforted. “But we must not question the will of the Lord even as we sorrow in our hearts.”

“I’m not.” Miriam choked back another sob. “But Wayne is still gone.”

Mamm
said nothing more but continued to hold Miriam tightly.

Moments later
Daett
cleared his throat loudly beside them. “Eugene and Rosemary also mourn,” he reminded. “They have gone into the house, and you should be with them.”

Miriam pushed away from
Mamm
with a start, but
Mamm
held on to her arm. They walked together toward the front porch. Miriam had meant no disrespect by running straight to
Mamm
instead of greeting Wayne’s parents. They would understand, she was sure. She’d been Wayne’s promised one, but that was now in the past. Still, until the funeral was completed, she would function in that role. She must act like the life they’d planned was still real.
Mamm
had been right, though. The Lord could change anyone’s plans without any prior consultation. She would have to submit her will afresh today as final goodbyes were made. It would not be easy.

Miriam leaned into
Mamm
as
Daett
held open the front door for them. Wayne and Joy’s parents had disappeared into a back bedroom. Soft sobs drifted from behind the closed door. They would also want to see what she had seen—and see Joy too. Miriam knew it wouldn’t be any easier for them than it had been for her. Likely they would feel the pain even harder than she did. Had they not birthed and loved both of their children into adulthood? She had only known Wayne for a short time, yet in that time a great love had grown between them. A love that had already weathered a fierce storm. Death was one storm that didn’t give back what it took. The sobs from beneath the bedroom door increased. Miriam glanced at
Mamm
. “Should I go in?”

Daett
cleared his throat, but
Mamm
spoke first. “Let them have a time alone. You can be with them soon enough.”

Miriam didn’t press the point. She wouldn’t be much comfort to Eugene and Rosemary anyway. Not with the pain still ablaze in her own heart.

“Why not tell us about him?”
Mamm
whispered while they waited.

Tears stung Miriam’s eyes again. The last thing she wanted right now was to think of the
gut
times she used to spend with Wayne…or Wayne’s
wunderbah
qualities that
Mamm
would never get to experience.

Mamm
pressed a handkerchief into Miriam’s hands. “Please tell us. I know it’s hard, but it won’t get any easier later. And it will help us.”

Mamm
was probably right, Miriam told herself. The memories of the life she used to live with Wayne could easily turn into bitterness if she held it all inside with the hope the pain would decrease on its own.

“I loved him,” Miriam began. “But you already know that.”

“
Yah
.”
Mamm
’s hand touched Miriam’s gently. “You told us that
much when you came home after Shirley’s accident. Can you share a special time you had with him? If it’s not too personal, of course.”

Miriam swallowed twice, but her voice still came out a whisper. “There’s a little place down by a creek not far from here, down near the schoolhouse. Wayne took me there that first fall when he asked me to be his
frau.
He took me there again this spring when things were a little rough for me.” Miriam’s voice caught. She paused as the downstairs bedroom door opened. Wayne’s
Daett
came out first, Rosemary right behind, hanging onto his arm. Their faces were tear-stained.
Mamm
helped Miriam to stand, and Miriam was thankful because she couldn’t have done so on her own. Not right after she’d spoken such personal memories about Wayne.
Daett
had also stood, and he led the two of them forward.

Rosemary let go of Eugene’s arm and hurried toward Miriam, taking her into her arms for a tight hug. “You’ve been so brave,” Rosemary whispered in Miriam’s ear. “I didn’t mean to ignore you when we came in, but I wished to see my son and daughter.”

“I understand.” Miriam assured her. “And I’m so sorry for your loss.”

“We’re in this together.” Rosemary gave Miriam another long hug before she moved on to the kitchen.

Daett
had been in a whispered conversation with Eugene and now turned to Miriam. “Come, daughter,” he said. “We must pray before the funeral begins. My heart is much troubled about this matter.”

“This matter?” What had Eugene told
Daett
? Miriam wondered. No doubt the conditions of the bodies spoke of the great wrath of the storm. That likely reflected the Lord’s wrath.
Daett
would think so at least. Uncle William had assured her that such thoughts of blame should not be entertained. She would not protest, Miriam decided, but her heart would stand firm in the conviction that the Lord had His reasons for the tragedy. The fault did not lie with anyone in the community.
Daett
would have to find the answers to
such questions on his own. She would pray. That she could always do whatever the reason.

Mamm
’s arm slipped around Miriam’s shoulders as they knelt by the couch beside
Daett
. Miriam saw Rosemary glance out the kitchen doorway with a look of understanding on her face. Miriam forced herself to bow her head and focus on
Daett
’s prayer as his voice rose and fell quietly in the living room: