Miriam's Quilt

by Jennifer Beckstrand

  Miriam couldn’t contain her delight after dinner when Jacob and Joshua each took one of her hands and pulled her to sit next to them on the sofa. Priscilla soon followed and deftly maneuvered herself between Joshua and Miriam.

  “I can’t wait for Thanksgiving,” Joshua said, leaning toward Miriam so Priscilla didn’t get the notion to divert Miriam’s attention. “Do you know what is my favorite pie? Pumpkin with whipped cream on top. But cherry is sweeter, unless you get a stone and then Seth says you could break a tooth. I only got a stone once but I found it with my tongue before I chewed on it. I hope Ellie lets me have two pieces.”

  Seth lingered near the sofa, leafing through Dat’s Bible without reading it. It was probably just Miriam’s imagination, but he seemed to gravitate closer and closer until Jacob grabbed Seth’s hand and pulled him to sit down.

  As soon as Seth was settled, Jacob popped from his place next to Miriam and nudged Seth’s knee. “Scoot over, Seth. Sit next to Miriam. She’s pretty.”

  Seth turned one shade darker, grinned sheepishly at Miriam, and slid next to her without protest.

  Her heart danced with pleasure at the look in Seth’s eyes. His arm nudged against hers, and she was acutely aware of the tingling sensation his touch produced.

  “My new quilt is nice and warm,” he said, when Joshua stopped talking to take a breath. “Thank you again. I am so grateful.”

  “I owe the greater share of thanks, knowing how happy it makes you.”

  “And Teacher says we will make paper turkeys next week for Thanksgiving decorations,” Joshua said.

  Miriam put her arm around Priscilla while she concentrated on Joshua’s story, which ended only with his visit. Her gaze was turned to Joshua, but she still felt Seth beside her, solid and immovable. She could have gladly spent the rest of the day at his side—not even making conversation or paying particular attention, but just feeling his presence, like springtime in the air or the smell of freshly baked bread throughout the house.

  Chapter 26

  “There are three ministers who will be living within the boundaries of the new district,” Bishop Moses Schwartz said. He stood in front of the congregation, holding three hymnals wrapped with rubber bands, his air more solemn than usual. It wasn’t every day that a district divided and a new bishop was chosen. Miriam had never seen a new bishop ordained in her lifetime.

  Wedged tightly between JoAnn Kiem and Millie Troyer, Miriam could barely breathe for the tension in the air. The Yoders’ house was crammed with what Miriam thought surely must be every person in the entire district. It was certainly high time to be divided, even though such a division proved bittersweet. Lifelong friends would be separated. Families that had worshipped together for decades would be split from each other. It was not as if they would never see each other again, but it was certainly easier to maintain friendships with the people you worshipped with on the Sabbath.

  The only family that seemed to be missing was the Neuenschwanders. Ephraim’s family was visiting relatives in Missouri. They wouldn’t return for another week, the Monday after Thanksgiving.

  The bishop raised the three hymnals. “These three men will draw lots for the new bishop. Whoever’s book has the proverb in it will be the new bishop by the Lord’s will.”

  Everyone sat perfectly still. The new bishop would dictate the rules for the district. A bishop might decide to allow certain things that a former bishop had not. That was why their district had indoor plumbing when many of the Wisconsin districts didn’t. There had been a case of typhoid fever in the district right before Bishop Schwartz was ordained. Due to the sickness and concerns over sanitation, he had decided to allow indoor plumbing.

  A new bishop might also decide to forbid certain practices that he thought pulled the People closer to the world. Miriam thought of her horse. Some districts in Cashton didn’t allow girls to ride horses.

  Miriam closed her eyes and said a prayer for the Lord to choose a merciful man. So much depended on the bishop.

  An equally troubling worry was the fact that her dat was one of the ministers who would draw lots.

  Bishop Schwartz called the three ministers up. “Sol Gingerich—”

  Miriam put her hand to her heart. A gute man, but stern and grave like the bishop.

  “Noah Kanagy, and John Bontrager.”

  Miriam’s stomach did a flip.

  Please, dear Heavenly Father, not my dat.

  Millie, her expression overflowing with sympathy, put her arm around Miriam to steady her. Miriam grabbed Millie’s hand as she studied her fater’s face. All the color drained from his cheeks as he stood and slowly walked to the front of the room. It must have been the longest walk of his life.

  Some men desired the honor of being the bishop as confirmation of God’s favor, but those men were few. Most hoped they would not be burdened with such a weighty responsibility. Dat would never seek for the calling. But as a baptized member of the church, he had made a commitment that if the lot ever fell to him, he would willingly serve.

  Dat stood between Noah and Sol, eyes cast down, with an arm around each of them. Noah clasped his hands in front of him, while Sol shifted nervously from one foot to the next.

  Seth caught Miriam’s eye and nodded slightly. Why did that small gesture give her so much comfort?

  Silence echoed through the house. Even the little ones seemed to sense that something significant was about to happen.

  As the three men turned to face him, the bishop placed the three hymnals on the table.

  Each man picked up the book directly in front of him and in turn handed it to the bishop. The bishop thumbed through Sol’s book first. No proverb hidden within its pages. The bishop picked up Dat’s book next.

  Miriam squeezed Millie’s hand until she was sure she had cut off her circulation. Miriam didn’t know what to do with all the suspense. She kept her gaze riveted to Dat’s book and whispered, “Lord willing, Lord willing,” over and over again.

  The bishop found what he looked for and raised his eyes to the congregation. “The Lord God has chosen our brother John Bontrager.”

  Miriam would never forget the look of shock on her fater’s face.

  * * * * *

  Dat sat in the dimness of the barn next to Daisy’s stall, stroking Daisy’s nose and quietly humming a hymn.

  “It’s dark,” Miriam said. She took a match from the shelf and lit the kerosene lantern that hung on the post above Dat’s head.

  She’d known where he would be. When something particularly heavy weighed on Dat’s mind, she could find him out feeding or brushing the horses. Since it was the Sabbath, he would probably be sitting on that wobbly milking stool talking to Old Jack or Daisy about his day. He talked to the horses the way she did. They were very good listeners who gave just the right amount of scolding when she needed it. When Old Jack lifted his head and twitched his ears, he was saying, “Stop feeling sorry for yourself.” And when Daisy tapped Miriam with her nose, she assured her that everything would turn out all right in the end.

  Dat gave her a tired smile. “Old Jack is trying to sleep. He likes it dark.”

  Miriam scooted onto the cement ledge that enclosed one side of Daisy’s stall. “Are you nervous? About being bishop.”

  Dat folded his arms and bowed his head. “I know why the Lord called me.”

  “You do?”

  “Because I have been begging Him very hard all week not to call me, and He did it to punish my stubbornness.”

  “You will make a fine bishop, Dat.”

  “Nae, I know nothing. What do I do when someone comes to me with a problem? How will I help them?”

  “You have a son who was once in jail and a daughter with child before marriage. You have known deep suffering.”

  Dat rubbed his chin. “But that is what does not make sense to me. The bishop should be a fater of obedient children. If I had been a gute fater, my children would not have traveled so far astray.”

  “The more
I think about it, the more I see that no family in the community is untouched by trouble. The Bielers struggle with a wayward son just like us. Several families have the burden of special children. Vernon Mishler’s parents must care for him night and day. Four old people passed on this year as well as Lizzie Glick in childbirth and the two Schmucker children in that car accident. God makes His rain fall on the righteous and the wicked.”

  “Why would the Lord want one such as me?”

  “You have been a wonderful fater. I have barely heard a cross word come out of your mouth. It has taken me a long time to learn, but Seth says the Lord doesn’t judge us by other people’s choices—only what we do with our own lives.”

  “Seth is a gute boy and wise. What if I had been the bishop when his mamm died? I would not have known how to help him.”

  “He came through it a better person.”

  “That is the kind of tragedy that terrifies me.” With his elbows on his knees, Dat covered his face with his hands and began to weep. “Lord,” he whispered, “make me equal to my burden.”

  Chapter 27

  Seth sat atop his mare, Patches, while Miriam rode the chestnut, Bitty. The crisp air landed on Seth’s skin like an invigorating shower. The horses needed exercise, and even though the end of November got colder all the time, he tried to ride the horses frequently to keep them fit. Miriam often accompanied him because “it makes sense to exercise two at once.” No complaints from Seth. If he had his way, Miriam would be by his side every day.

  He glanced in her direction and watched her prod her horse into a canter down the road with a look of pure joy on her face. A million hours wouldn’t be long enough to drink in her silky-smooth skin or the freckles that dotted her nose. And her lips? He had to concentrate very hard not to stare at them when she talked. Her beauty took his breath away.

  Seth nudged his horse forward to keep up with Miriam’s while those feelings he constantly tried to bottle came spilling out, saturating his whole being with longing.

  He loved her. He’d long ago admitted to himself that it was useless to fight the overpowering feeling.

  If he told her how he felt, would she run screaming for safety? The thought of losing her company made him feel ill. But if she never knew his deepest feelings, she might never open herself to the possibility that she could be with someone besides Ephraim.

  They slowed to a walk as they approached his lane.

  “Did you have a gute Thanksgiving?” Miriam said.

  Seth tried to appear unaffected by the thoughts spiraling in his head. “Jah. Ellie is a wonderful-gute cook. Her brother Thomas came with his family.”

  “I ate until I thought I would burst.”

  “Ellie tells us how much we each get to eat…but I did sneak an extra piece of pumpkin pie when Ellie’s back was turned.”

  Miriam grinned. “Did you get away with it?”

  “She thought my dat took it, so she didn’t complain.”

  “We had pumpkin and cherry pie. My dat needed to counsel a family and missed the entire meal, but he got three pieces of pie.”

  “Will he be gone often, do you think?”

  “He has only been bishop for a week, but I have never seen him so busy. I hope it will get easier.”

  Seth pulled his knit hat tighter over his ears. “He is a gute man to sacrifice so much of himself for the district. I do not envy him.”

  They turned up Seth’s lane and rode past the stand of trees. “The house looks gute,” Miriam said. She guided her horse in the direction of Seth’s small house.

  “The outside is finished, which is something I wanted to do before bad weather hit. The crew I hired worked fast with the men from the district. They framed the inside too. Next week there will be a Sheetrocking frolic for the inside. Then I can work on painting and laying the floor when I have spare time.”

  Miriam dismounted, tied the reins to the railing, and walked up the stairs to Seth’s covered porch. Seth followed her.

  “This is a gute spot. The trees are big. You will be cool in the summer.” She rested her gloved hands on the railing.

  “I want to move my brothers and Scilla in before Christmas.”

  “To live with you? Why?”

  Seth did not want to speak ill of anyone. “I think they would be happier.” He trained his eyes on the trees. “I will not watch their childhoods stolen. I am determined to see them grow up in a happy home with people who care about them.”

  A soft glow filled Miriam’s eyes as she looked at him. “I wish I were more like you. You are so gute.”

  “There is none good but God.”

  She pressed her lips into a resigned smile. “As you wish.”

  An irrational resolve pounced on Seth as he stood there gazing at Miriam. A voice inside his head screamed at him to keep his mouth shut, but his heart would not let him back down. He coughed weakly. “Miriam, I want to tell you something, but I would never want to make you feel uncomfortable or unhappy.”

  “Okay,” Miriam said slowly, studying his face. Then the corners of her mouth turned up. “You are not going to tell me I am a snob, are you?”

  Seth would have laughed if he had not been so terrified. He dared to move closer and take her hand in his. She did look surprised, raising her eyebrows and staring at his hand, but she didn’t pull away. That was something, at least—enough to encourage him to move forward with his reckless plan.

  “Miriam,” he began. His throat seemed to swell shut. “I would never want you to feel uncomfortable…” He’d already said that. Why did he have to be so awkward? If he were Ephraim, he would already be holding her in his arms and whispering sweet phrases into her ear. “I think…you are so dear…I think I love you.” He wanted to say, “I know I love you,” but “think” was less threatening, and if she wanted to, she could discourage him without feeling like she’d ripped out his heart—even though that’s exactly what would happen.

  A cautious smile bloomed on her face. “You do?”

  She didn’t seem upset or resistant. His heart pounded faster, if that were possible.

  Seth’s thoughts whirled with a hundred reasons to drop the conversation, a thousand cautions to heed, and a million words he wanted to say.

  He did not know what he would have said next, because they were interrupted by the sight of a buggy turning up his lane. Miriam pulled her hand from his as the occupant of the buggy pulled alongside their horses and the last person in the world Seth wanted to see climbed out.

  Miriam caught her breath and turned to stone. Seth wanted to grab her hand and run far away, but he was as paralyzed as Miriam was at the sight of Ephraim Neuenschwander.

  Ephraim didn’t look at all himself. Dark circles rimmed his dull eyes, and a day’s growth of whiskers darkened his features. He looked… repentant, ready to make a confession. Seth stopped breathing. He didn’t like it. Didn’t like it one bit.

  “They said you were here,” Ephraim said, ignoring Seth completely.

  Miriam, tense and rigid, simply stared at him. Seth wanted to wrap her in his arms. Since Ephraim’s rejection, Seth knew firsthand that her encounters with Ephraim had been short and painful. Seth had witnessed the behavior at gmay. He followed Miriam’s lead and stared at Ephraim, trying not to despise him, trying not to let his tongue take hold of his restraint.

  “Can I talk to you? Alone?” Ephraim said.

  Miriam shook her head. “What do you want?”

  He glanced at Seth. “Miriam.” Ephraim hesitated as his voice cracked before every emotion seemed to spill out of his mouth. “When I think of how I gave up on you, the way it hurt you, I can’t stand it.” He swished his fingers through his hair. “I want you to come back to me. I want to be together again.”

  Seth stared at Ephraim in astonishment. He had never seen him so penitent. On the surface, so sincere.

  Seth studied Miriam’s face. Her mouth twisted in confusion as she trained her eyes on her former intended, the man she had always loved. Th
e man she would always love.

  “I don’t understand,” she mumbled.

  “A day hasn’t gone by that I don’t regret losing you. Even on the night of the gathering when I was so angry, leaving you there like that was the hardest thing I ever did. I wanted to do the right thing in regards to Susie and Yost, but more and more I see that your family problems don’t mean a thing compared to how much I need you. Please, Miriam. Give me another chance.”

  Miriam’s eyes darted from Seth to Ephraim; doubt and distress were written all over her face. A bottomless pit opened up in Seth’s gut. He felt her slipping away as plainly as if they were at the top of an icy hill and she lost her footing and tumbled over the edge.

  “Seth,” she said, pleading with her eyes, “Seth, I don’t know what to do.”

  Even with his heart melting into a pathetic puddle at her feet, Seth knew he had to do the noble thing, the thing that would bring Miriam the least amount of suffering. Of course she wanted Ephraim. With her loving spirit, she certainly would have forgiven Ephraim his trespasses long ago. What was there left to keep them apart? Who wouldn’t choose Ephraim over Seth Lambright any day? But she had to believe he would be okay or she would be ripped to shreds with remorse.

  “Go with him,” he said, unable to disguise the shaking in his voice. “This is what you have always wanted.”

  “I think so,” she said, doubt running circles around her face.

  Ephraim seemed surprised at Miriam’s hesitation. He looked at Seth and furrowed his brow. “Miriam, don’t we at least owe it to each other to see what will come of this? We used to be everything to each other. I want to have that again, don’t you?”

  Miriam looked at Seth, tears sparkling in her brilliant lavender-blue eyes. “Seth, I think…I think he is right. For good or ill, our relationship deserves a second chance.”

  By biting his tongue, Seth kept a sob from escaping his lips and attempted a carefree smile that he was sure fooled no one. “Our friendship should not stop you from being with the man you truly love. Go,” he said, even giving her a little nudge to display his sincerity. “Go with him. I will take the horses back to the stable.”