What had she just counseled Sarah? Let it go, for now. Because for now that was all she could do. Perhaps, day by day, if they all trusted in God, the house would begin to feel like home again, the place that Miriam loved best of all.
Her arm still linked through Sarah’s, Miriam took the arm that Daniel offered, so that all three of them were joined. Then she turned away from her father’s grave.
“Yes,” she said. “Let us all go home.”
Three
The next morning, Miriam was up early. When am I not? she thought with a smile. But today’s up early was different. Today, she would return to the daily tasks she found so meaningful, the ones that, added together, day by day, made up her life.
She had already started cooking breakfast. The scent of coffee filled the air. Bacon sizzled in a cast-iron skillet on top of the stove. Miriam retrieved several eggs from the propane refrigerator. With quick, practiced motions, she broke them into a bowl, setting the eggshells aside. Later, she would use the shells to compost the garden. They were good for the roses, and Miriam’s rose hip jelly was one of the farm stand’s best sellers.
Miriam stirred the eggs with a fork, adding salt, pepper, and a little water. She turned the bacon in the pan, and then brought out the pie that her mother-in-law, Amelia, had left for them. It was the first time since Miriam and Daniel had been married that Miriam was serving her husband a pie she had not made herself. But she had been very touched by Amelia’s gesture. Clearly, she knew her oldest son well.
The bacon done to her liking, Miriam lifted it from the pan and set it on a plate lined with a paper towel. She blotted any extra grease, and then set the plate in the oven where the pilot light would help keep it warm. She drained some of the grease off from the cast-iron pan, glancing out the window as she did so. She didn’t want to start the eggs until she knew Daniel was coming in. That way, they would be nice and hot.
As Miriam watched, Daniel came out of the barn and started across the yard. He moved with purpose, as he always did. It had always seemed to Miriam that Daniel knew precisely where he was going. It was one of the things that she loved best about him. Not that she could always predict where he would end up! Though she was pretty sure she knew his destination at the moment. As Miriam continued to watch, Daniel paused at the pump partway between the house and the barn.
He almost always did this when the weather was fine, a holdover from his boyhood when Amelia required that the boys wash up before they came indoors. Daniel was a grown man now, with a house of his own. He no longer had to wash his hands and face in the yard. But, as long as the weather was warm enough, he almost always did it anyhow. It always made Miriam shake her head, half in exasperation, half in love.
As Miriam continued to watch, Daniel worked the pump handle vigorously. After a few moments, water gushed from the spout. Daniel stopped pumping and thrust first his hands, and then his face, into the flow before it stopped. He stepped backward quickly and tossed back his head, sending water drops flying. Though she’d seen him perform this ritual almost every summer’s day for six years now, the fact that Daniel could get his face wet yet still keep the front of his shirt dry never lost the ability to take Miriam by surprise. She had teased him about it, not long after they were married.
Practice makes perfect. Daniel had quoted the Englisch saying with a smile.
With one last shake of his blond head, Daniel continued on toward the house. Miriam stepped away from the window and walked briskly across the kitchen to meet her husband at the kitchen door. Without a word, she handed him a clean towel. Daniel took it from her, just as silent, but Miriam was pretty sure she caught a glimpse of Daniel’s eyes, dancing with laughter, just before he buried his face in the towel.
“All clean?” she inquired as he lifted his head.
“What do you think?” Daniel asked. He tilted his face for inspection. Miriam regarded it seriously.
“Let’s see the hands as well.”
Daniel held them out, palms up, then, after a moment, he turned them palms down.
“I believe you will do,” Miriam declared.
“Thank you,” Daniel answered formally. Then he smiled. He took a deep breath. “Is that bacon I smell?”
“It is indeed,” Miriam said. “Now that you are clean enough for them, I’ll start the eggs. Sit down.” She moved to the stove as Daniel poured himself a cup of coffee, and then took his place at the table. “Your mother left a pie.”
“Did she?” Daniel said. “That was kind of her. I’ll remember to thank her when I see her later today.” There was a brief silence. “What kind?”
Miriam tested the skillet before tipping in the eggs. She was glad her back was turned so that Daniel couldn’t see her smile. “Rhubarb. The last from her garden, she said.”
“Ach,” Daniel said. “Well, that is nice.”
It was his favorite kind.
Miriam fell silent, stirring the scrambled eggs. They didn’t take long. She turned off the burner, and then used a clean dish towel to pull the plate of bacon from the oven, together with the clean plates that rested just beneath it. Miriam scooped a healthy portion of eggs onto Daniel’s plate, added several rashers of bacon, and, finally, a good-sized piece of the rhubarb pie. If she knew her husband, he’d have a second piece before he headed out to the fields. She turned from the counter, crossed the short distance to the table, and set the plate in front of him.
“Danki,” Daniel said.
“You’re welcome,” Miriam replied. She turned back to the counter to prepare her own plate. “Oh,” she exclaimed softly.
“What?” Daniel asked quickly. He started to get up. “Are you all right? Did you burn yourself?”
“No, it’s nothing like that,” Miriam said. “It’s just . . .” She took a steadying breath. “I got out three plates, just like always, only I didn’t even realize I’d done it until now.”
“But surely the third plate is for Sarah,” Daniel said.
“Ja, it can be for Sarah,” Miriam replied. But that isn’t why I got it out, she thought. That isn’t it at all. Instead, she had warmed three plates just the way she always did, one for Daniel, one for her, and one for her father. “I’ll just keep it warm,” she said, not wanting to have to explain.
“Sarah sleeps late now,” he observed. “Do you think she’s taking on the Englisch ways?”
“She was on a plane the whole night before the funeral,” Miriam reminded him, surprised to find herself defending her sister. “It’s good that she’s catching up on her sleep.”
Using the dish towel once again, Miriam returned the plate to the oven. She dished up her own breakfast, poured herself a cup of coffee, and sat down opposite her husband. Daniel bowed his head for the silent blessing, and Miriam did, too. They gave thanks for the food and the day to come.
Daniel ate the same way he did most things, Miriam thought as she watched him pick up his fork and tackle the eggs, economically, with no wasted motions. It wasn’t that he rushed. She didn’t think she had ever really seen Daniel hurry, unless the occasion truly called for it. He simply applied himself, with dedication. She smiled to herself as Daniel plunged his fork into the pie and scooped up a big bite. Miriam followed suit, though her bite was smaller. The pie was good. Miriam had a deft hand with pie herself, but Amelia had a special touch. No two ways about it.
“You are going to help Lucas to bring in his wheat today?” she asked.
On any given day, Miriam knew what Daniel’s tasks would be as well as she knew her own. There was a rhythm, a progression to farm life. The fact that neither she nor Daniel had performed their usual duties during their period of mourning did not make that rhythm go away.
“Yes.” Daniel nodded. He took a sip of coffee to wash down the pie. “Then Lucas and the boys will come to us.” Daniel was one of five brothers. There were two girls in the Brennemann family as we
ll. Martin and Amelia Brennemann had adopted Daniel when he was just an infant, after his parents were killed in a buggy accident. Daniel and Lucas, the Brennemanns’ next-oldest son, were a little less than a year apart in age.
“Lucas and I have been speaking of going to the horse auction next month,” Daniel continued. “I’ve been thinking of getting another field horse.” He smiled at her. “I will miss your daed’s company there. He had a fine eye for horses. If it wasn’t for Jacob, I would never have even noticed Major.”
Major was Daniel’s favorite draft horse, a calm, powerful Percheron who, when they first saw him at the auction, had been a scrawny, frightened colt. Only her father had seen the horse’s potential.
“Yes, you and Lucas should go,” Miriam replied, feeling a tug of grief. Her father had loved going to the big auctions. Men came from districts all around, and it was a good time to reconnect with old friends and acquaintances. This would be the first time in decades that Jacob Lapp would not be there, studying the horses and freely giving his advice to his friends.
“You will go to the farm stand this morning?” Daniel asked.
“Ja.” Miriam nodded. She took a sip of coffee as she considered. “I won’t open for business until tomorrow, but I want to tidy up and take stock.” She sent Daniel a quick smile. “Today, I will even turn the lights on.”
“I am pleased to hear it. It is the one building where we pay for electricity, and yet I found my wife standing there in the dark,” he teased her gently.
“Not today,” she promised.
Daniel pulled in a breath as if to say something else, then changed his mind. Instead, he took another bite of pie.
“You will want some help there, I think,” he finally said when he had finished chewing.
Miriam nodded. The whole time Daed was dying, she had known she would have to come up with a new plan for running the farm stand. It now belonged to her and Daniel, as did the farm itself. But Daniel had never taken an active part in the day-to-day running of the stand. This was only as it should be. He had the farm itself to run.
It was Jacob who had kept the farm stand going, particularly after the Englisch doctors had told him that his heart was weak, that the exertion of working in the fields could be dangerous for his health. But being idle was not the Plain way, so Jacob had devoted himself to the farm stand instead. Though he had started it when the girls were young, after his diagnosis he poured all of his attention into it, and the whole community felt the benefit of his efforts, with the proceeds providing much-needed additional income—income that would be lost if the stand were closed. Virtually every family in the district now sold something at the stand.
To Miriam’s amazement, the stand had developed a reputation among the Englischers. Locals and tourists who stayed in the area all stopped at the stand. Miriam had sold Plain goods to people from New York, New Jersey, Ohio, West Virginia, even California. The farm stand was better, they said, than any city farmers’ market. Miriam knew she not only had to keep the stand going, but she had to maintain the high quality of the produce and products that Jacob had offered.
“I’ll need help,” Miriam agreed. She glanced toward the head of the table, where her father had always sat. It was rightfully Daniel’s spot now, and she knew he had not yet taken it out of respect for her grief. “But figuring out how it is best to manage will take some time. I am hoping that Sarah will help while she is here, but . . .” Miriam let her voice trail off.
“But Sarah will not stay.” Daniel finished her thought.
Miriam shook her head. “No, Sarah will not stay. She’ll go back to San Francisco at the end of the summer. I need someone here, especially through the fall harvest.”
“Perhaps we should speak to Bishop John,” Daniel suggested. “He might know of someone.”
“That’s a good thought,” Miriam acknowledged, even as she felt tears rise in her eyes. It would never again be her and Daed working side by side in the stand, so used to each other’s ways that they worked seamlessly, each knowing exactly what was needed. She would have to get used to working with someone new. Distressed, she pushed back from the table, snatched up her plate, and moved quickly to the sink.
“Miriam.” Behind her, she heard the scrape of Daniel’s chair as he, too, rose. A moment later, she felt his strong hands on her shoulders. Miriam wavered just for a moment. Then she turned into her husband’s arms.
Here, right here, she thought. This was where she longed to be; this was where she belonged. Daniel was so strong and solid, like a great tree that no storm could ever bring down. She felt so sheltered and protected within the circle of his embrace.
Please, she thought. Let the world stop, just for a few moments. These few moments when she was in her husband’s arms.
“I am sorry,” Daniel said quietly. “I did not mean to upset you. Your father was a good man. I miss him, too, and I know that it is hard to lose him, even though we both know that he is with God. But at least Sarah is home, if only for a little while. You can get to know each other again, and she can be some help for you.”
Instantly, Miriam stiffened. Must he always speak of Sarah?
As if he sensed some change in her, Daniel moved back a little, though he kept his arms around her. However small it was, she felt this new distance between them keenly.
“Yes,” she said, managing to keep her voice smooth and even, though she could not bring herself to look up into Daniel’s eyes. “It will be good to have her help.”
And she stepped out of her husband’s arms.
* * *
A half hour later, Miriam stood in front of the farm stand, surveying her handiwork. The big front double doors of the stand were thrown open wide. Above the opening, directly in the center, the carved wooden sign that proclaimed “Stony Field Farm Stand” looked welcoming and cheerful in the bright sunshine.
By dint of much huffing and puffing, Miriam had managed to tug the first of the display tables out into position in front of the open doors. It had been something of a challenge. The tables were sturdy and heavy. Moving them in and out was usually a two-person job. Truly, she hadn’t needed to do it. After all, she wouldn’t be opening for business until the following day. But this was the first day that she felt the stand belonged to her, and she needed to prove to herself that she was perfectly able to set up and run it on her own if need be, that her daed’s faith in her hadn’t been misplaced. What had Sarah called her? Capable. She had to be worthy of Sarah’s faith, too.
I really should have waited for Sarah, she thought. But Miriam didn’t want to wait. She wanted to get going now. The farm stand was her responsibility, her challenge, one she was determined to meet. She marched back inside the stand, seized the second table, gave it a quick tug to get it moving, then continued to drag it carefully toward the open doors. Too fast, and she was afraid that she might scratch the wooden floor.
Miriam felt the threshold bump against her heels. She stepped over it carefully, pulling the front legs of the table out into the yard. Just a little farther now. She pulled a little harder. The table shot forward, the back legs catching on the threshold. The front edge of the table slipped from Miriam’s fingers. One of the front legs came down on her foot so hard she saw stars. With a sharp cry, she yanked her foot back, hopping up and down.
“Miriam! Miriam!” cried a high, clear voice behind her. “Are you all right?”
Miriam stopped hopping, trying not to wince as she put her full weight on her foot and turned to face the newcomer. Standing behind her was a young woman of about sixteen. She had blond hair and blue eyes, just as Miriam did. At the moment, her eyes were wide with concern. She was breathing quickly, as if she had just run a race.
It was Leah Gingerich, Rachel Miller’s niece. She lived with Rachel and Bishop John. “Gude mariye, Leah,” Miriam said.
“Gude mariye,” Leah answered, giving the polite r
esponse. But she went on almost at once, as if she simply could not contain herself. “Oh, Miriam!” she burst out. “Are you sure that you’re all right? That looked like it hurt so much!”
“It did,” Miriam admitted, feeling her lips tug upward into a smile. Leah’s energy was infectious. “Though to tell you the truth, not so much that I didn’t have time to think about how silly I must have looked, hopping up and down.”
“But you didn’t!” Leah exclaimed. “Well,” she amended, “at least not much. But I’m pretty sure I would have cried like a boppli if that had happened to me.”
“My eyes had no room for tears,” Miriam said, her smile growing larger. “They were too busy seeing stars!”
“Ouch,” Leah said sympathetically.
“Ja,” Miriam said. “Ouch. But what can I do for you, Leah? The farm stand isn’t open yet.”
“I know.” Leah nodded at once. “But I thought perhaps you might be here. You and Jacob always opened the farm stand first thing in the morning, and I . . .”
Her voice trailed off. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen her at a loss for words, Miriam thought. It wasn’t that Leah chattered. But she did seem to have the habit of saving up her words and then sending them all out together in one great big rush. This, together with Leah’s petite frame, made her seem younger than she actually was. But Miriam was almost certain she remembered that Leah had recently announced her desire to be baptized. That would make her sixteen at least. Old enough for courting.
“I want to help.”
Leah’s voice jerked Miriam back to the present.
“What?”
“I want to help,” Leah said once more. “I want to learn everything I can about how to run a farm stand so that, maybe someday, I can have one of my own. You will need help now, won’t you, now that your father is gone? I’ll do any job you like. I’m a hard worker, you can ask my aenti Rachel. She’ll tell you.”
Summer Promise Page 3
