Chapter 19
“Mamma, ya really should eat somethin’.” Rhoda slipped an arm around Miriam’s slumped shoulders. “Rachel’s warmed some of those
gut
stuffed peppers, and I brought us home the last three cinnamon rolls from this mornin’, so—”
“I’m hot and tired and so
ferhoodled
I could just—” Miriam rose from her chair at the end of the table, retreating to the front porch. Even here, though, the oppressive July heat made her clothing stick to her after the day’s work in a hot kitchen: not a breath stirred the trees. She dropped wearily into the porch swing, regretting her words with Rhoda. Didn’t her girls always look after her? Hadn’t they all done the best they could these past two years since Jesse passed?
Wishin’ won’t bring him back ... nor will fussin’ at everybody solve the real problem here. His name is Hiram ... and Lord, if we don’t find a way to heal all these open wounds insteada pourin’ salt on them ...
Miriam peeled off her shoes and stockings and flexed her feet. She felt ninety years old, as limp and bedraggled as she had those first months of being a widow—and she was doing this to herself, she realized. As the girls came out to join her in the late rays of the sunset, she put on a smile for their sake. Rhoda carried the big family Bible and Rachel had quartered those cinnamon rolls and put them on a plate, which she set on the swing cushion. Little imp. Rachel knew she would eventually reach for just one piece of the sweet, cinnamon-rich pastry, and then another.
“Didn’t mean to bite your heads off, girls,” Miriam said sadly.
“
Jah
, well, it’s been one of those roller coaster days,” Rhoda observed as she handed over the Good Book. “Felt so fine to have Tiffany actin’ like she wanted to be with us—”
“And then the bishop had to come and rain on our party.” Rachel’s sigh sounded far too old and sad for a girl about to turn twenty-one. “What’re we gonna do, Mamma? Priscilla Schrock gave me quite an earful about
her
feelin’s—”
“
Jah
, I saw the three of them listenin’ in the hallway.”
“—and said she was gonna give Reuben what for about the buildin’ bein’ sold,” Rachel continued forlornly. “But when Hiram had his say ... seemed to me he’d already made up his mind. No talkin’ him out of it.”
Miriam let out a short laugh as she turned the thin pages of the old Bible. “
My
talkin’ didn’t help matters. Only eggs him on when a woman states her case, like I did today and the last time I met with him.”
“He’s not keen on havin’ his facts challenged by somebody else’s.” Rhoda reached for the first section of cinnamon roll.
“And I
know
that, ain’t so? Yet I keep answerin’ back like a smarty-pants who has no respect for God’s holy ordinances.”
“Mamma! Everybody knows you respect God!” Rachel objected. “It’s Hiram and his string-pullin’ we’re objectin’ to here. Even Tiffany could see that.”
“Ya can’t tell me you’re gonna let him take away all you’ve worked for!
He
allowed ya to set up the Sweet Seasons, and now he’s changin’ all the rules!” Rhoda squeezed her piece of pastry into a tight ball before popping it into her mouth. “God strike me down if I’m speakin’ outta turn here, but it’s just plain nasty, the way he’s backin’ you into a corner so’s you’ll give in ... maybe marry him.
Please
tell us you’re not gonna do
that
, Mamma!”
Two sets of intense blue eyes were fixed on Miriam. The dusk deepened around them when the sun dipped behind the smithy, and then the quickstep of hoofbeats made them all look down the lane. “Micah and his
mamm
. Fast as they’re comin’, I hope nothin’s wrong with Ezra,” Miriam murmured. She waved and called out, “Hullo there, you two! Everythin’ all right?”
“Puh! You’re a fine one to be askin’
me
that!” Naomi replied. She clambered down from the buggy before Micah could assist her and then her bare feet slapped against the wooden porch steps. “Gave Ezra some extra meds for his phantom pain and left him snoozin’. Seems to get worse in this heat, and we’re probably lookin’ at another round of tests soon.”
“Had to get her outta the house so’s she wouldn’t keep spinnin’ like a tornado,” Micah remarked gently. He sat on the step, leaning against the thick porch pillar. “Didn’t feel much like workin’ on the upstairs tonight, what with Hiram sayin’ your buildin’ is to be sold. So here we are. Misery loves company, ain’t so?”
“Pass this young fella the plate.” Miriam took a section of cinnamon roll before handing the sweets to Rhoda. “We were just gettin’ ready for our readin’, and I’ve picked out the Psalm Jesse used to rely on when things bothered him ... mostly on nights when meetin’s with the bishop tested his patience.”
“We could use a dose of
that
medicine,” Naomi agreed. “Keep tellin’ myself all this frettin’s not doin’ us a lick of
gut
, but do ya think it stops me? I’m mighty wound up over this kettle of fish, I can tell ya.”
Miriam smiled. Already she felt better, surrounded by those who loved her most and shared her deepest concerns. “Micah, it’s been a long while since we heard our evenin’ readin’ in a man’s voice. Would ya mind? It’s number twenty-seven.”
The sturdy blond removed his straw hat, looking honored that she’d asked him for this favor. He sampled a piece of the cinnamon roll, wiped his hands on his pants, and then took the large book from her. Rachel had fetched the lamp from the table and lit it, and they made a soothing sight as they sat together over the Word.
“‘The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? The Lord is the strength of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?’” he began. He smiled at Miriam, sensing her reason for choosing this passage tonight. “‘When the wicked, even mine enemies and my foes, came upon me to eat up my flesh, they stumbled and fell ...’”
As Micah’s confident young voice continued, Miriam felt her whole body relaxing. She nodded at Naomi, both of them pleased at the sight and the sound of this devotional time they all shared ...
“‘Hear, O Lord, when I cry with my voice: have mercy also upon me and answer me. When thou saidst, Seek ye my face my heart said unto thee, Thy face, Lord, will I seek ...’”
Thy face, Lord, will I seek,
Miriam’s heart repeated. Surely God wouldn’t mind if it was Jesse’s face she saw in these times when troubles confronted her.
“‘Teach me thy way, O Lord, and lead me in a plain path because of mine enemies. Deliver me not over unto the will of mine enemies: for false witnesses are risen up against me and such as breathe out cruelty,’” Micah continued. His fervent voice added meaning to the phrases as they followed him with their hearts.
And while it pained her to place Hiram Knepp, the bishop God chose for them, in the same category as enemies and false witnesses, Miriam realized that others might well see
her
in that role at times: Didn’t everyone take a turn bearing false witness and breathing out cruelty, after all? She bowed her head, allowing Micah to finish the familiar passage as a prayer she mouthed along with him.
“‘Wait on the Lord; be of good courage and he shall strengthen thine heart: wait, I say, on the Lord.’”
Their collective sigh wafted like a breeze around them, welcome relief from the heat of a day that had troubled them and made them cry out, like the Psalmist, when it seemed the very basis of their lives—their daily bread—was about to be taken from them. But that hadn’t happened yet, had it?
“Your Jesse knew how to pick them,” Naomi remarked quietly.
“
Jah
. And I’m hopin’ he’ll stand by me when Hiram takes me to the bank. Can’t think Tom or Reuben talked him outta that.”
“Well, at least we can keep doin’ what we do best ... thinkin’ of ways to work outta your kitchen if it comes to that.” Naomi ventured. “We
do
have a good followin’ built up, with lots of standin’ orders and folks who ask us to do their receptions and whatnot.”
“Could be, too, that since property’s not sellin’ so fast nowadays, the bad economy’ll be in our favor,” Micah remarked. “A lot of our carpentry jobs now are for folks who’re fixin’ up what they have or addin’ on, rather than buildin’ new homes and offices.”
They sat in the deepening dusk, with only the creak of the swing punctuating the silence while they watched the flame flicker in Rachel’s lamp ... maybe deciding whether to voice more doubts or to keep their complaints about this situation to themselves while the Bible reading still held sway over them.
“Any idea how Hiram’s horse business is doin’?” Miriam asked quietly. “Haven’t been to an auction in years.”
Micah seemed to follow her train of thought: his lips lifted at one corner. “Read in
The Budget
not long ago that he’s now considered the top draft horse breeder in Missouri, Iowa, and Illinois. His stallions go for a hefty price, and Plain folk as well as English come from miles around to bid on them.”
Naomi took Miriam’s hand with a sigh. “Are ya thinkin’ he’ll hand over the cash when he takes ya to the bank, then? Just sign the new papers, and it’s over and done with?”
“I don’t know what to think. I guess we’ll find out when God says it’s time,” she replied. “And meanwhile, like ya said this mornin’, Naomi, the Lord still helps those who help themselves, ain’t so?”
They nodded somberly.
“We’re followin’ the order of things, kneelin’ before the People this Sunday to confess so’s we can start with a clean slate,” Miriam went on. “From there, we—”
“And just what have ya done, Miriam? Taken back a daughter ya thought was dead? Kept your other two fed—and employed?” Naomi demanded. “What do ya have to bring before
anybody
for doin’ what any mother would’ve done?”
“Our way calls for obedience and submission ... patience to wait on God’s will for our lives, like the Psalm said,” Miriam replied quietly. “We promise to put Christ and His church ahead of the world, includin’ our own flesh and blood. So insteada turnin’ this matter over to Hiram Knepp, I’m gonna entrust it all—my lost-lamb daughter and my bakin’ business—to the Lord. The bishop answers to Him, too, ya know.”
She smiled as an inner peace settled within her, recalling how often this simple, Plain plan had gotten her through the toughest times in her life. “Now—who’s gonna join me while I help myself to those stuffed peppers Rachel warmed?”
“Been quite a day,” Rachel murmured. “Just when we were havin’ such a
gut
talk with Tiffany—hearin’ her call our mother ‘Mamma’—the walls came crashin’ down.”
Micah slipped his arm around her. It was a fine night for a moonlight ride, but even though they’d left the yard—and prying eyes—far behind to sit in the buggy, in their favorite spot, he seemed in no mood for kissing or cuddling. “
Jah
, I was surprised to see Tiffany. Knew somethin’ had changed, when she came to visit again,” he said with a sigh. “Poor timin’, far as the bishop’s decision about sellin’ the buildin’. Mamm’s fit to be tied and Dat’s none too happy, either. While we all know your mamma’s right about submittin’ to God’s will and obeyin’ it, it’s a lot easier said than done.”
For several moments, the cicadas and crickets sang around them, but for Rachel, the summer serenade lacked its usual note of peace and contentment. Nothing seemed to match up right after Hiram Knepp had stepped in and decided their future: she wasn’t so sure God had been given much of a say here. “So ... what’ll ya do if the bishop puts the ban on ya?”
Micah tensed beside her. “Oh, I’m havin’ my thoughts about that, for sure,” he muttered. “
Jah
, I went to Tiffany’s, knowin’ the consequences, but Hiram’s seein’ a lot more sin than was there. Not like I even kissed her, or touched her—or so much as thought about her that way. Told her I was givin’ all of that to
you
, Rachel. You believe that, don’t ya?”
She smiled sadly in the seclusion of their favorite little grove. “
Jah
, I do now. If it weren’t for you goin’ there, she wouldn’t’ve come back, most likely. Still wearin’ the dark eye-paint and dyed hair, but ... well, she’s not so stiff and standoffish now.”
Micah sighed, fingering the long string of her kapp. “And what if I said I was leavin’ this church? Goin’ in with the Mennonites down the road, where our plumbers and electricians live?”
Rachel sat bolt upright, staring at him. He’d talked about branching off into his own shop, but never too seriously, on account of how it might split up his family. “Ya can’t mean it, Micah!”
“I’d have to start up on my own—unless Seth and Aaron wanna come work for me there,” he mused aloud. “Wouldn’t wanna leave Mamm and Dat here in Willow Ridge, though—especially considerin’ how sellin’ your mamma’s buildin’ means such a cut in her income. Or, truth be told ... the parents might go, too, if they see I’m leavin’.”