A Merry Heart (17 page)

“How’s my best pupil and favorite niece today?” Miriam asked as she took the child’s hand in her own.

“Better. My head don’t hurt no more. Doctor said I can go home soon.”

Miriam cringed at the thought of Rebekah returning to her family as a cripple. Rebekah had never made mention of it, though. Was it possible that she wasn’t yet aware of the fact that she could no longer walk? How would the once-active child handle the probability of spending the rest of
her days confined to a wheelchair?

“I’m glad you’re feeling better,” Miriam said, trying to make her voice sound light and cheerful.

“Did you bring me some licorice?” Rebekah asked with an expectant look.

“Jah, and another book to read for your English lessons, as well as a get-well card from your friend Mary Ellen.” Miriam handed the card and candy to Rebekah; then she seated herself in the chair next to the bed. “Would you like to look at Mary Ellen’s card before we start the lesson?”

Rebekah nodded and tore open the envelope. Her smile stretched ear to ear as she read the card:

Tears welled in Miriam’s eyes, and she blinked to keep them from spilling over. Rebekah was paralyzed and would never be whole again, so Mary Ellen’s prayers were wasted. But she wouldn’t tell Rebekah that; it would be too cruel.

“A man took my picture,” Rebekah surprised her by saying.

“I know, but that man will never bother you again.” It was then that Miriam noticed the teddy bear sitting on the table near Rebekah’s bed. She picked it up. “Where did you get this, Rebekah?”

“The man gave it to me.”

“When was that?”

“Awhile ago.”

“What man?”

“The picture man.”

Miriam’s head started to throb, and she pressed her hands against her temples, trying to halt the pain. So Nick must have just come from Rebekah’s room when she’d bumped into him at the hospital entrance. Had he come out of concern for the child? Was his gift one of genuine compassion, or had he used it to bribe Rebekah in order to take additional pictures? Now that Miriam thought about it, Nick had been carrying his camera bag when she’d first seen him, and he’d set it on a chair in the waiting room while they talked.

“Rebekah, did the man take more pictures of you today?”

The child nodded. “He gave me the bear, and then he asked me to turn my head to the wall, so’s he could use his camera without makin’ everyone mad.”

O
ne month after Rebekah’s accident, the doctors released her from the hospital. She would still need to return for physical therapy twice a week, but at least her days and nights could be spent with family.

On Rebekah’s first day home, Mom suggested that she and Miriam ride over to see if they could help out. “Sarah’s certainly going to have her hands full now,” she said. “Just taking care of a
boppli
and two small kinner is a job in itself, but now this?”

“Since today’s Saturday and there’s no school, I have all day to help out.” Miriam pulled her jacket from the wall peg. “I’ll go out and feed the animals while you start breakfast. Then we can go.”

“Jah,” Mom agreed with a nod.

A blast of cold air greeted Miriam as she stepped onto the porch. It was early December, and a definite feeling of winter hung in the air. She shivered and pulled her collar up around her neck. “I hate winter!” The truth was, she was beginning to dislike all seasons. Perhaps it was life in general that she hated.
Is it all right for a believer to feel hate
toward anything—even the weather?

Another thought entered her mind. Maybe she wasn’t a believer anymore. Her faith in God had diminished so much over the last several months. She got very little from the biweekly preaching services she attended with her friends and family. She no longer did her daily devotions, and her prayers were few and far between. When she did pray, she offered more of a complaint to God rather than heartfelt prayers and petitions. Where was God anyway, and what had happened to her longing to seek His face?

Miriam trudged wearily toward the barn and forced her thoughts onto the tasks that lay before her.

On her way back to the house half an hour later, she noticed a clump of wild pansies growing near the fence that ran parallel to the pasture. Pansies were hardy flowers, blooming almost continuously from early spring until late fall. The delicate yellow and lavender blossoms made her think of Mary Ellen and the day she’d given her the bouquet of heartsease.
Children like Rebekah and Mary Ellen are a lot like wild pansies
, she thought.
They’re small and delicate, yet able to withstand so much
.

Thoughts of Mary Ellen made Miriam think about Amos. She’d seen him only a few times since the day of Rebekah’s accident. Those times had been at preaching services. It seemed strange that he wasn’t coming around anymore. He hadn’t even come over for supper at Mom’s most recent invitation. Perhaps he’d been too busy with his blacksmith duties or taking care of Mary Ellen. Or maybe he’d finally come to realize that Miriam had no interest in him, so he’d given up on his pursuit of her. Regardless of the reason, Miriam was glad he wasn’t coming around
anymore. The last thing she needed was an unwanted suitor. Her life was complicated enough.

She bent down and picked several of the colorful pansies. They would make a lovely bouquet to give Rebekah.

When they arrived at Sarah and Andrew’s place, Anna noticed Sarah sitting on the front porch, with her head bent and shoulders shaking. She quickly got down from the buggy and rushed to Sarah’s side, leaving Miriam to unhitch the horse. “What is it, Sarah? Why are you sitting out here in the cold?”

Sarah lifted her head. Tears coursed down her cheeks. “Oh, Anna, please remember me in your prayers.”

“Jah, I surely will,” Anna answered, taking a seat beside her daughter-in-law and reaching for her hand. “What has you so upset?”

“I’m happy to have Rebekah home again, but there isn’t enough of me to go around.” Sarah sniffed and dabbed at her eyes with the corner of her apron. “Simon’s into everything, the baby always seems to need me for something, and taking care of Rebekah will be a full-time job. She’s only been home half a day, and already I can’t seem to manage.”

“There, there,” Anna comforted. She slipped her arm around Sarah’s shoulders. “We’ll work something out.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Miriam asked as she joined the women on the porch.

Anna spoke before Sarah could reply. “Miriam, would you please go inside and check on the kinner while I speak to Sarah?”

“Jah. I want to give Rebekah the flowers I picked for her this morning,” she said, holding the bouquet in front of her.

As soon as Miriam had gone into the house, Anna turned back to Sarah. “When I learned that Rebekah was coming home, I became concerned that her care would be too much for you to handle alone.”

Sarah nodded and released a shuddering sigh. “I want to do right by all my kinner, but caring for Rebekah is going to take up so much of my time, and we really can’t afford to hire a
maad
right now.”

“There’s no need for you to hire a maid,” Anna said with a shake of her head. “I think I may have the answer to your problem.”

When Miriam entered the kitchen, she spotted Rebekah sitting in her wheelchair next to the table, coloring a picture. The child looked up and smiled. “Hi, Aunt Miriam. Do you like my picture?”

“Jah, it’s nice.” Miriam placed the flowers on the table. “These are for you.”

“Danki. They’re very pretty.”

“Where are Simon and baby Nadine?”

Rebekah pointed across the room.

Miriam gasped when she spotted three-year-old Simon sitting on the floor with a jar of petroleum jelly he had obviously rubbed all over his face and hair. The baby, who sat on the braided rug next to Simon, had some in her hair, as well.

“Was in der welt
—what in the world? How did you get this, you little
schtinker
?” Miriam rushed across the room and grabbed the slippery jar out of his hands. “That is a no-no!”

Simon’s lower lip trembled, and tears gathered in his big, blue eyes.

“Come over to the sink with me, and let’s get you cleaned up. Then I’ll tend to the boppli.”

Just as Miriam finished cleaning both children, Mom and Sarah entered the kitchen. Sarah’s eyes were red and swollen, but at least she was no longer crying.

“Our help is definitely needed here today, and there’s much to be done,” Mom said with a nod in Miriam’s direction. “So now, let’s get ourselves busy.”

By the time they reached home that evening, Miriam felt exhausted. The last thing she wanted to do was chores, but farm duties didn’t wait, so she climbed down from the buggy with a sigh, prepared to head for the barn.

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to talk before we have our supper,” Mom said as she stepped down from the buggy. “When you go out to the barn, if Lewis is there, would you ask him to come up to the house with you if he’s not busy? The matter I have to discuss pertains to both of you.”

Miriam tipped her head in question, but when Mom gave no explanation, she nodded and started for the barn, wondering what her mother could have to talk about that would affect both her and Lewis.

She found her brother grooming one of their horses
when she entered the barn leading Harvey, her buggy horse. “Here’s another one for you,” she called. “When you’re done, Mom wants to see you up at the house.”

Lewis looked up from his job. “What’s up?”

“She said she has something to discuss and that it pertains to both of us.”

“Tell her I’ll be there in a while,” Lewis answered with a nod.

As Miriam left the barn a few minutes later, a chill ran through her body. She shivered and hurried toward the house. Was the cool evening air the cause of her chilliness— or was it the fear she felt in her heart? Fear that whatever Mom had to tell them was bad news.

By the time Miriam entered the house, Anna had steaming cups of hot chocolate waiting and a kettle of soup simmering on the stove. “Is Lewis coming?” she asked, after Miriam had removed her heavy black shawl and hung it over a peg near the back door.

“He said he’d be in when he’s done with the horses.” Miriam moved away from the door and took a seat at the table. When Anna offered her a cup of hot chocolate, she smiled and said, “Danki.”

“You’re welcome.” Anna settled herself into the rocking chair near the stove and reached into a basket on the floor. She pulled one of Lewis’s holey socks out and began to mend it as she made small talk with Miriam. “I figured I may as well keep my hands busy while the soup heats. After Lewis comes in and we’ve had our talk, we can make some sandwiches.”

“Okay.”

“Winter’s in the air. Can you feel it?”

Miriam lifted the cup of hot chocolate to her lips. “Jah, I nearly froze to death this morning when I went out to do my chores. I suppose I’ll have to get out my heavier jacket soon. A shawl sure isn’t enough for these crisp, cold mornings and evenings.”

“The hens aren’t laying as many eggs, either,” Anna said. “It’s a sure sign that winter’s here.”

The back door creaked open, and Lewis entered the kitchen. “Yum. . .I smell hot chocolate. I’d recognize that delicious odor even if I was blindfolded and still out on the porch.” He smiled at Anna. “Miriam said you wanted to talk to us?”

She nodded, laid the sock aside, and cleared her throat a couple of times. “I. . .uh. . .was wondering. . .that is, how would you two feel about me moving in with Andrew and Sarah? Could you manage on your own?”

Neither Lewis nor Miriam spoke for several minutes; then Miriam broke the silence. “For how long, Mom?”

“Indefinitely.”

“Indefinitely?” Lewis echoed.

“Jah. Now that Rebekah’s confined to a wheelchair and what with all the work the other two kinner will take, Sarah’s going to need all the help she can get for a good long while.”

“But Mom, how do you expect Lewis and me to manage here by ourselves?” Miriam asked in a shrill tone.

“You’re both capable adults. I’m sure you can manage fine without me.”

“I think we could do all right,” Lewis said with a nod.

“I know that my moving out will cause some discomfort for you,” Anna continued. “However, I’m sorely needed over at Andrew and Sarah’s right now.”

“What about Sarah’s folks? Can’t they help out?” Lewis questioned.

“Their place is several miles away. Besides, they still have young kinner living at home to care for.”

“It’s just like you to make such a sacrifice, Mom,” Lewis said. “You have a heart of compassion.”

Miriam left her seat at the table and knelt next to Anna’s chair. “It should be me that goes. I’ll quit my job teaching and care for Rebekah. After all, it was my fault she was injured.”

Anna placed her hand on top of Miriam’s head. “It was not your fault, and I wish you would quit blaming yourself. It was an accident, plain and simple. It was something bad that God allowed to happen. You are in no way responsible. You’re a fine teacher, and you’re needed at the school. Sarah and I talked things over today, and I’ve made my decision. I’ll be moving to their place this weekend, and I hope I have your blessing on this.”