Summer Promise (17 page)

Miriam caught her breath. Just for a moment, her footsteps faltered. But she squared her shoulders and continued on to Daniel's side. He continued to stand, perfectly still.

“How much did you hear of my talk with Sarah?” Miriam asked quietly.

“Enough,” Daniel answered after a moment. “Enough to know what a fool I've been.”

“No more foolish than I,” Miriam replied.

Daniel gave a short, harsh bark of laughter. “I don't know how you feel, but I think perhaps it takes more than that to make a good marriage.”

“I will tell you how I feel, Daniel Brennemann,” Miriam began.

At the sound of his full name, Daniel abruptly swung toward her. He reached for Miriam, seizing her tightly by the shoulders, cutting off her flow of words.

“No,” he said fiercely. “I will speak first. I
must
.”

Miriam stood perfectly still within Daniel's grasp, looking straight up into his eyes. At this moment, his eyes were no longer the same shade as the sky. For the sky above their heads was beginning to darken, making its way toward night. Against it, Daniel's eyes blazed out like piercing stars.

Miriam reached up and laid a hand against her husband's cheek, saw the way his eyes lit with surprise. Saw something she realized she had not seen there in a very long time, perhaps not even since the first days of their marriage. Hope.

“Daniel Brennemann,” she said once more, “are we by any chance arguing about which of us gets to be the first to say
I love you
?”

Daniel let go of Miriam's shoulders so that he could place one hand atop her own. He turned his face to her hand and pressed a kiss into the very center of her palm. Miriam's whole body flushed with the heat of that kiss. It seemed to her that she could feel it making a circuit of all her limbs, finally coming to rest in the place she knew she would carry it forever: her heart, now almost whole. She made a wordless sound.

“I love you, Miriam,” Daniel said. “I love you so much. There are days when it seems to me that I have loved you all my life. That I cannot tell where you end and I begin, I have loved you for so long. Perhaps that is why—”

“Hush,” Miriam said as she reached with her other hand to cover Daniel's mouth. “I will not hear you reproach yourself. I have been selfish, Daniel. And I have been blind, so blind. I kept thinking you did not say you loved me because you
could
not. That I knew you well enough to know that you would never tell a lie. Not once did I stop to realize that I had never spoken the words myself. So, please, listen to me now.

“I love you. I have always loved you. I will love you 'til the day I die.”

“Miriam,” Daniel whispered. “
Miriam.
”

He pulled her close and pressed his lips to hers. Miriam felt her heart rise up inside her chest, then slowly, gently come to rest, now whole. There was no part of it that harbored any fear or doubt. No part that was not filled with love. Love given and love received.

The kiss ended and Daniel held Miriam tightly.

“Daniel,” Miriam murmured.

“No,” Daniel said softly. He lifted her face up to his and kissed her once more, letting his lips roam across her face. “Not yet. I am not ready to return to the everyday world quite yet.”

“I will tell you a secret, if you will let me,” Miriam said.

She felt Daniel's laughter move through his body a second before it sounded. “Oh, you will, will you?” he asked. “And what is that?”

“This is the everyday world,” Miriam said.

Daniel moved so quickly Miriam never even guessed his intention, pulling her even closer, holding her so tight and fast that it seemed to Miriam that they now truly embodied the words that he had spoken. She could not tell where she ended and he began.

“I love you. I love you,” Daniel said. “It is you, and only you, that I've loved all my life. I will never forget to tell you again.”

“And neither will I,” Miriam said. “You're going to get tired of it, I'll say it so much. Only, Daniel . . .”

“What?” Daniel said.

“You're all wet.”

Daniel gave a great shout of astonished laughter. So loud and joyous Miriam was sure it could be heard all over the county. And she was certain it had been heard by the great and merciful God who had finally showed the two of them the path that they should walk, and that it was one they would walk together.

“So I am,” Daniel said. “And I'm making you wet, also. Come, let's go in. We can go upstairs and change.” His eyes gazed down into Miriam's. “I don't know about you,” he said softly, “but all of a sudden, I am very hungry.”

At the heat in her husband's tone, Miriam flushed. But she kept her gaze just as steady as his.

“So am I.”

“I could get used to this,” Daniel said, a laugh in his voice. “Suddenly we agree about everything.”

Miriam gave him a shove. Daniel reached for her, sneaking a quick kiss. Together they turned in the direction of the house.

“What is that?” Daniel asked suddenly. He lifted his head, literally scenting the air. “Do you smell that?”

Miriam breathed in deeply. “I do,” she said. “It smells like fire.”

“Miriam! Daniel!” she heard a voice cry out. As one, Miriam and Daniel turned in the direction of the voice. It was Lucas. He had come across the fields from the Brennemann farmhouse at a full run.

“The farm stand,” he gasped. He bent, resting his hands on his knees as he struggled to catch his breath. “The farm stand is on fire.”

Sixteen

W
e can rebuild,” Daniel said.

Miriam nodded, feeling dazed. Was it really still Sunday? So many things had happened that the morning seemed like a lifetime ago. She could barely believe that only a few short hours had passed since Lucas had come running to bring them the news of the fire.

The living room of the Lapp farmhouse was now crowded. Miriam and Sarah sat together on the couch, with Daniel perched on the arm at Miriam's side. The Millers were there, including Leah, as were all of Daniel's family except for Annaliese, who had taken the youngest children home to bed. The
Englisch
firefighters had just departed. When Daniel had expressed the family's solemn thanks, the captain had shared his regret that he and his crew hadn't been able to do more. The old farm stand had burned fast and hot.

“I've been coming to the Stony Field Farm Stand since I was a boy,” the fire captain told them. “This area just won't be the same without it.”

“Thank you,” Miriam replied. “You are very kind.”

“It's the truth, ma'am,” the fire captain said. “I'll wish you folks a good night, now.”

After his departure, Miriam had gone back to the couch, slowly sinking down upon it. The farm stand was gone. Even if they did rebuild, a new one would never be the same. Its walls would contain no memories of Daed.

“You are tired and no wonder,” Rachel said. “Let me put some
kaffi
on.”

“I'll do it, Aenti Rachel,” Leah said. She got to her feet and hurried out to the kitchen.

“I know we can rebuild,” Miriam said, in answer to Daniel. “It's just . . .” Her voice broke. “The farm stand—
that
farm stand—has been there for so long. When I think of all Daed's hard work . . . he cared about it so.”

“We all care about it,” Bishop John said in his calm, quiet way. “I know there were some who were uncertain at first, but that was many years ago. I don't think there is one among us who would argue against the fact that the farm stand has brought great benefit to us all. I will have to speak to the deacons, of course. But I think I can say you will have the settlement's full support and assistance if you do decide to rebuild.”

“
Danki
, John,” Miriam said. She reached for Sarah's hand and held it fast. “We appreciate that.”

Rat-a-tat-tat.
There was a knock at the front door.

“I'll go,” Amelia Brennemann said. “I'm closest.”

She got up and went out into the hall. Miriam could hear a murmur of low voices. A moment later, Amelia returned, an
Englisch
man at her side. Miriam recognized him at once. It was Ernest Tompkins, who owned the lumberyard in town. Jacob and Ernest had been good friends. Ernest Tompkins had been among the
Englisch
mourners at her father's funeral, Miriam remembered, one of the first to offer his condolences.

“Good evening to you, Miriam, Daniel,” he said. He turned, taking in the others in his greeting.

“Ernest,” Daniel said. He rose to shake Ernest Tompkins's hand. “It is good of you to come.”

“Sit down, please,” Miriam said.

“No, no,” Ernest Tompkins said, raising a hand to halt Miriam when she would have risen. “The last thing you need is a million visitors. I don't intend to stay long. I just wanted to say how sorry I am that the farm stand is gone. I remember when your father first decided to build it. We talked over the plans for quite some time.”

Miriam and Sarah exchanged a glance. They had been too young when the stand was built to remember that, but they didn't doubt the man's words.

“I don't know what your intentions for the future are,” Mr. Tompkins went on, “and maybe it's too soon for you to know yourselves.”

“We were just discussing that,” Miriam admitted.

“Well,” Ernest Tompkins said, “that's fine. I just wanted you to know that, if you decide to rebuild, I hope you'll let me help. Jacob Lapp was a fine man, and it was an honor to call him my friend. I wish I could say I can give you whatever you need, but in these hard times—”

“We'd never ask such a thing, Mr. Tompkins,” Miriam exclaimed.

“I know that,” he said with just the hint of a smile. “That doesn't mean I don't wish that I could make the offer. What I'm thinking is that we could share the load. You decide what you want to do, then let's sit down and talk it over, just like Jacob and I used to do. I'll get you the best deal I can on all your supplies. I drive a pretty mean bargain, if I do say so myself.”

“That's very generous of you,” Bishop John said.

“Jacob was a generous man,” Ernest Tompkins replied as he turned in Bishop John's direction. “Some generosity in return seems only right. Call it a tribute, if you like.”

He turned back to Miriam and Daniel. “If you do rebuild, you might consider getting that young Eli King to help. I've never seen anyone with such a good hand when it comes to wood, and that's a fact. I've been after him to bring me some things to sell at the store.”

“What do you mean?” Miriam asked, curious.

“I mean, Eli's got the makings of a first-rate craftsman. He's been building chairs, tables, a cabinet that any cabinetmaker would be proud to call his own. That boy's got talent.”

“Does he,” Sarah said in a quiet, thoughtful voice.

“He does indeed,” Mr. Tompkins assured her. “Well, I've said what I came to say and I won't trouble you any further. Good night, now.”

“There'll be coffee in a minute,” Miriam said, getting to her feet. “Leah's just now making some.”

“No, thank you.” Ernest Tompkins shook his head. “And don't stand on ceremony. I can see myself out.”

“I'll go with you,” Daniel's father said. He rose and accompanied Ernest Tompkins to the door. “Well,” he said as he returned, “that was a welcome surprise.”

“It was,” Miriam agreed. She rubbed her forehead. “But I just don't know.”

“You don't have to decide right this minute,” Rachel remarked.

“Good!” Miriam said with a smile. “Oh, Leah,” she went on as Leah came back into the room. “Thank you. That coffee smells so good. And you brought in the sandwiches. How thoughtful of you.”

“I thought you might be hungry,” Leah said. Carefully she set the heavy tray she'd prepared down on the coffee table in front of the couch. “Though I have to tell the truth,” she said as she straightened up. “I thought you might be hungry because I was!”

“Then by all means let's eat something,” Miriam said. “I'm sure that will make us all feel better.”

The next few minutes were occupied by everyone getting something to eat. Daniel stayed close by Miriam's side.

“There is something I am wondering,” he said. He paused to take a sip of coffee. “Though perhaps not. Maybe it is too soon to discuss something like this . . .”

“Gracious, Daniel!” Miriam exclaimed. “Now you're going to have to tell us. Otherwise we'll all die of curiosity.”

“I'd prefer it if you did not do that,” Daniel said.

“Thank you,” Miriam answered. “I'd prefer not to do it myself.”

Sarah choked on a sip of coffee. Quickly Miriam turned to thump her sister on the back.

“Sorry,” Sarah said. “I think that sip went down the wrong way.”

“What are you wondering about, Daniel?” his mother asked. “Tell us.”

“I wonder if we should do more than just rebuild the farm stand,” Daniel said. “Perhaps we should expand it.”

“Expand it,” Miriam echoed. “How?”

“By selling all sorts of other things!” Leah burst out. “Woodworking and quilts. I've always wanted to make quilts to sell. We could have a bigger refrigerator case for more food. The
Englischers
always want to know what we eat. Haven't you noticed that? I have. And I—”

“Why, Leah!” Rachel said.

Leah's face turned bright red. She clapped a hand across her mouth.

“No, let her go on,” Daniel said with a smile. “I could not have put it better myself, though I would not have thought of the food.”

“What Leah has been saying—is that what you meant?” Miriam asked, looking up at Daniel.

“It is,” Daniel said. His blue eyes twinkled at Leah, whose hand remained firmly across her mouth. “I am wondering whether God has given us an opportunity rather than a disaster, painful as losing the old farm stand is.”

“That is well spoken,” Bishop John said.

“It is.” Miriam nodded. She pulled in a deep breath and then smiled up at Daniel. “And thinking about what's happened that way already makes me feel better, I must admit.” She turned to Sarah. “What do you think?”

“I agree with all of you,” Sarah said. “Though contemplating how to plan it all makes my head swim.”

“Fortunately we don't have to do it all tonight,” Daniel said. “But if we are in agreement, then we can proceed.” He turned to Bishop John. “Will you speak with the deacons?”

“I will.” Bishop John nodded. “And I will also speak to Victor King. He should be told of Ernest Tompkins's praise of Eli.”

“
Ja
,” Daniel agreed. “I would like to see this woodwork of his.” He looked at Miriam. “Perhaps that, too, could be sold at the new farm stand?”

“Perhaps,” she said, smiling.

“And now I think we should say good night,” Rachel said. She got to her feet. “And I think that Leah can take her hand down from her mouth so that she can say a proper good night as well.”

“Good night,” Leah said.

Miriam rose from the couch to give the young woman a hug. “I look forward to hearing all your ideas, Leah,” she said. “And to seeing the quilts.”

“I haven't made them yet,” Leah confessed. “I just want to.”

“Wanting to is a fine place to start,” Miriam said. She gave Leah's shoulders a quick squeeze. “Thank you all for your support. I think that, with God's help, we will make this work.”

* * *

Late that night, Miriam and Daniel climbed the stairs to bed. The old farmhouse was still and silent all around them.

I love this house,
Miriam thought as she followed the glow of the kerosene lamp that Daniel carried. He went into the bedroom, setting the lamp on the nightstand by his side of the bed. Miriam paused for a moment on the threshold.

“What is it?” Daniel asked.

“I'm not entirely sure,” Miriam answered with a little laugh. “I was just thinking about how much I love this house. The way it feels so . . . enduring, even though it has known sadness.”

“I know what you mean,” Daniel said. “My parents' house feels the same way, as if it will withstand whatever comes.”

“Whatever comes,” Miriam echoed.

“Miriam,” Daniel said softly. “Come to bed.”

Slowly Miriam stepped across the threshold, crossing the room to Daniel like a moth drawn to a candle flame. Daniel turned and extinguished the light, but even in the dark, Miriam's course was unerring. She paused in front of him. Daniel's form was a dark outline against the window.

“There's a full moon tonight,” Miriam whispered. “In all the excitement, I hadn't noticed.”

“It's beautiful,” Daniel said. With deft fingers, he removed Miriam's
kapp
, then went to work on the pins that held her hair tightly against her head. It fell down around her shoulders, cascading down her back in a thick stream of gold.

“As are you,” Daniel whispered.

“Daniel,” Miriam said. “
Daniel.
”

And then there were no words for a very long time. Only the rush of blood, both quick and slow, and the sounding of two hearts, finally freed of all constraints, at long last beating as one.

Later, lying against the cool, crisp sheets, Miriam watched the moon streaming in through the window. She could see the outline of Daniel's shoulder as he slept, face toward the window just like always.

And then, in his sleep, Daniel turned, just as Miriam had always hoped and dreamed he would. One hand reached out, as if in search of her. Hardly daring to breathe, Miriam placed her own within it, saw and felt the way Daniel's fingers curved around hers. He shifted position yet again, moving closer, and pulled her into the circle of his arms.

Tears of joy flooded Miriam's eyes. But she did not let them fall. Instead, she laid her head upon her husband's chest, closed her eyes, and slept a sleep without dreams until the first light of morning.