“Naomi and I will be going then, if you don’t need our help.”
“Danki for the help. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Fannie Mae looked at Mark over the rims of her glasses. “You be schur to get some rest. Take a day or two to recover. Heat exhaustion can be dangerous. You could have had heat stroke, you know.”
“I’ve learned, believe me.” He repressed a shiver as she marched to the kitchen door. How could a woman his own age seem so stern?
She left, the screen door banging behind her.
Miriam pushed a cold glass into his hands. “Here, Mark, drink some water.”
He raised up on one elbow, and this time the world didn’t tilt. The water felt amazing to his parched throat. “I think I can sit up now.”
“Allrecht, but take it slow.”
Mark felt her arm around his back for support and was touched by her caring. Then his senses swam at her nearness, at the fresh scent of her. She smelled of wildflowers.
“Steady?”
He nodded. Their gazes met, locked, then she looked away and sat back on her heels. “Gut. Get your bearings, then we’ll see if you feel like you can get up with some help.”
Mark decided he’d do best to have Abraham and Samuel when it was time to get to his feet.
“Where’s my grandfather?”
“Resting in the downstairs bedroom. I didn’t want to worry him unless I had to.”
“Good idea.” He decided to stand.
Miriam stood quickly. “I don’t think you should stand up yet,” she cautioned.
“I’m fine, really.” But he had to admit his knees were shaky and he didn’t mind that her hand went to his elbow as they walked inside.
“Sit and catch your breath before you try to make it upstairs,” she urged him. She pushed him into a chair and directed the battery operated fan on his face.
She poured him a glass of iced tea and set it in front of him. “Let’s get as much fluid in you as we can. Are you hungry?”
Mark pressed a hand to his stomach and shook his head, which set off another wave of dizziness. He hated weakness, but he was afraid he was about to slide off his chair. “Food’s the last thing I want. But thanks.” He took a deep breath. “I think I need to lie down for a few minutes. Then I’ll see if I can go back out and help.”
He stood, bit back the nausea, and was grateful when she hurried to his side to slip her arm around him.
“Don’t try the stairs yet.” With an air of determination, she guided him from the kitchen to the downstairs bedroom.
“What’s going on?”
They stopped and turned. John stood staring at them, his bushy eyebrows raised.
“John, we didn’t want to disturb you,” Miriam said. “But Mark wouldn’t listen to anyone about taking a break, and he got sick. I was helping him to the bedroom.”
“You should have called me,” he admonished. “He’s too heavy for you. Let me help.” He put his arm around Mark’s waist and the three of them made their way slowly down the hallway.
“I’m not a baby,” Mark protested.
“Nee, but you know better than to work without a break in this heat,” John said, helping him to the bed. “You’re not used to it.”
“You saying I’m pampered?”
John pushed him down on the bed and lifted his legs onto it. “I’ve seen you do more than your share. But you shouldn’t have overworked your first day here.” He laid a hand on Mark’s forehead. “You’re still awfully warm.”
“I’ll fetch a cold cloth. And the kitchen fan.”
“Gut. Danki.” He waited until Miriam left the room. “She’s such a gut maedel.”
Mark lay on the bed and felt like he was floating on a cloud. He remembered that charged moment when she’d helped him sit up and their gazes had locked. She’d smelled like wildflowers. “An Amish angel,” he murmured and drifted off.
Eight
Market day!
It was a day Miriam loved even though it meant a lot of work. Everyone in the family, except boppli Katie, got up even earlier than usual to load the spring wagon with fruits and vegetables.
While her dat and her bruders loaded baskets and boxes, Miriam packed lunches and added plastic bottles filled with frozen water and lemonade. They’d keep the lunches cool and be icy cold to drink once they thawed.
Of course, she, Emma, and Isaac always saved a little money for a shared funnel cake or other special treat. Those special treats made the day seem less like work and tasted so gut.
Miriam wanted to take the reins of the spring wagon, but she knew Emma liked to drive it. So she gave her a big smile and hoped they wouldn’t encounter too much traffic on the way to the market.
The place was huge and already teeming with activity when they arrived. This time of the year, it was especially popular with locals and tourists. Produce was abundant and reasonably priced, and other vendors, both Amish and Englisch, had booths selling baked goods, handmade baskets, clothing, quilts, and all manner of things.
Emma pulled the wagon into the space behind their vendor stall and the three of them quickly unloaded their produce. The sun was just coming up as they finished, so they settled on high stools and waited for their first customers.
And started their day with a big cinnamon roll from a baked goods stall.
People began surging into the market. Some were regular customers, some new. Miriam had always been a people watcher and she loved listening to the different accents and expressions. Sometimes she could guess where they were from and sometimes she couldn’t. But it was always fun to watch and listen.
Except when Emma and Isaac were squabbling.
“Emma, it looks like the tomatoes have gotten picked over,” Miriam said. “How about you rearrange them? And Isaac, take those boxes out to the wagon and see if Ned needs some water.”
They both walked off to do as she said, grumbling but obeying.
She hoped they’d remember why she’d put them to work and not repeat the behavior. But they were kinner and she was schur that wouldn’t last forever.
As the hours passed, they only got busier.
“Be schur to drink lots of the water I packed,” she told them. “It’s getting warm.”
“Someone should have told Mark to do that the other day.” Emma finished the funnel cake she and her bruder were sharing and licked her fingers. Then she caught Miriam’s look. She pulled a tissue from her apron pocket and wiped the powdered sugar from her fingers.
“Mark isn’t used to the heat.”
“Well, I hope he feels better. I like Mark.”
Isaac started to wipe his mouth with the back of his hand. Miriam frowned at him, handed him a paper towel, and watched as he used it.
A customer approached, spent ten minutes deciding on her purchases, then bought so much Miriam dispatched her helpers to carry it to the woman’s car.
Miriam took a seat, pulled out a bottle of lemonade, and took her first break of the morning. Emma’s mention of Mark reminded her that she hadn’t been by John’s farm house for two days. But the Amish grapevine worked well. She’d heard that Mark had been forced to stay inside and not help harvest. The doctor had told him he had heat exhaustion.
She still didn’t know what had made Mark return to the community or why he’d looked so upset. His getting sick that day in the heat hadn’t given her a chance to talk to him. She knew she shouldn’t worry about him, but she did. He was her friend.
Well, she’d have to swing by John’s later today and hope he’d talk to her about whatever was troubling him.
A woman carrying a large tote bag walked up to their stand and looked over the produce.
“So, Mrs. Dotson, you’re back from your grandson’s wedding. Did you enjoy it?”
The older woman nodded vigorously. “Lovely wedding. The bride looked so lovely in a long, lacy dress. And the flowers. My, my, they were so lovely. She even made sure I had a wrist corsage.” She launched into a long monolo
gue detailing every flower, every attendant, and the food. “And this one woman wore a red dress to the wedding. Can you imagine?” She didn’t give Miriam time to answer. “I had a red car once. Nice car.” And she wandered down that verbal road while she sorted through a basket of tomatoes.
“These are nice and red,” aren’t they?” Miriam asked when the woman took a breath. “We just picked them yesterday.”
“I’ll take a pound,” she said, nodding.
Miriam weighed the tomatoes, placed them in a paper sack, and helped her put it into her tote. She accepted bills and made change. “Please take a bottle of our blueberry balsamic vinegar. On the house. We just made it the other day.”
“Blueberry balsamic vinegar, hmm? Sounds interesting. It’s such a lovely shade of blue. That reminds me of some lovely blue flowers I had in my garden once.” She gestured as she told the story of her bluebells and Miriam listened politely.
“Mrs. Dotson, did you know the bakery stall has blueberry muffins? I know how you love blueberries. You might want to get some before they sell out.”
“I’d best hurry on over and get some.” She patted Miriam’s hand. “You’re such a thoughtful young woman, Miriam.”
“Thank you. Have a wonderful day, Mrs. Dotson, and see you next week.”
Isaac snickered. “I thought she’d go on forever. ‘Your green beans remind me of my lawn,’” he mimicked in a falsetto amazingly like the older woman’s voice.
Miriam frowned and shushed him. “One day you’d better hope someone’s nice to you when you’re old and you tell stories.”
“I’m never getting that old,” he said confidently.
John was nearly that old. She worried about him and wondered again if Mark was considering taking over the farm.
“I’m going to take a little walk around,” she told them. “The two of you are in charge while I’m gone.”
“You can leave it to us,” Isaac said standing up straight and tipping his straw hat back on his blond hair.
“I’ll make sure he behaves himself,” Emma said. She loved reminding Isaac she was older than him.
Miriam walked away before she had to referee another dispute.
She enjoyed saying hello to other vendors as she walked along the aisles. A display of sewing supplies caught her eye. She bought a thimble handpainted with tiny flowers for her mudder’s upcoming birthday, and stopped to look over some bandannas a new vendor was sporting.
“They’re filled with a gel that chills you in the heat,” he said, picking one up and holding it out to her to inspect. “You tie it loosely on your neck like this.” He demonstrated.”
It felt cool, she discovered, and remembered how Mark had gotten overheated the other day.
“Quite a bargain this time of year,” the man said persuasively. “I’ll give you a special vendor’s discount.”
She pulled out some money. “I’ll take a blue one for my friend.”
“Excellent choice,” he said as he gave her change and slipped her purchase into a bag. “I’ll be here next week, so be sure to stop by and let me know how it works for him.”
Miriam took the bag from him, smiled, and walked on. She’d been looking for an excuse to stop by John’s, and she’d just found it.
Mark answered the knock on the front door and was surprised to find Miriam standing on the porch.
“Come in,” he invited, holding the door open.
“I can’t, I’m on the way home from a day at the market and I have Emma and Isaac with me.”
He looked past her and saw them sitting in the spring wagon. Emma waved at him. Isaac was intently studying something in his cupped hands.
“I have some money for John.” Miriam handed him some bills. “I took some of the produce from his kitchen garden with me to the market.”
“That was very kind of you.” He knew the Amish believed in community, but she certainly seemed to do a lot for his grandfather.
“And I bought this for you.” She gave him a bag. “The man said it helps you stay cool. You put it in the refrigerator before you tie it around your neck and go outside.”
Mark pulled the bandanna from the bag. “Sounds like a good idea. I’ll try it. How much do I owe you?” He dug in his pocket for his wallet.
Miriam frowned.” It’s a gift.”
He started to open his mouth, to tell her not to spend her money on him, but quickly reconsidered. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend.”
She nodded. “It’s allrecht.”
“Thank you for thinking of me.”
He was rewarded with a warm smile.
“You look better than you did the other day.”
“I feel better, thanks.”
“You were acting . . . driven that day,” she said hesitantly. “Like you had the weight of the world on your shoulders. If you’d like to talk about it . . .” She trailed off hesitantly.
Her concern touched him. Everyone but Lani from back home was avoiding him, not returning his calls. Even Tiffany.
“I—” Then his attention was pulled away by Emma jumping up in the wagon and fussing at her brother. “Uh, Miriam, I think Isaac is up to something.”
Miriam sighed. “He loves to torment Emma and his schweschders. Isaac! Stop whatever you’re doing!” She turned back to him. “I have to go.”
He walked with her to the wagon. “I always envied my friends who had a sister or brother to torment.”
“And those of us who have siblings often wish we were only kinner. I guess we’re not always satisfied, are we?”
Mark leaned on the side of the wagon and looked at Isaac. He’d never been very good with kids. Sometimes when he met a coworker’s child, he was just clueless what to do or say. “What’s that you have in your hands, buddy?”
“Magic beans,” Isaac said, his eyes huge as he held out his hands.
Mark watched the beans jumping in Isaac’s palms. “Wow, that’s something else. Where’d you get them?”
“A man at the market was selling them.”
Miriam peered at them. “How much did you spend on them?”
“Just a dollar.”
“So did the man tell you to plant them and they’d grow to be a big beanstalk?”
“He just said they were magic. But I remember you read us the story a couple times. Do you think they’ll grow to be a big beanstalk? I can climb up it and get the gold from the giant. Then we wouldn’t have to work so hard.”
“It’s a fairy tale,” Miriam said. “You know it wouldn’t be right to steal something from someone.”
“But didn’t the giant steal the money from the boy’s dat?”
“That doesn’t make it right.”
“Can I hold them for a minute?” Mark held out his hand.
“Schur. Just be careful. Don’t drop them.”
“I won’t.” He held the beans in his palm and watched their frenetic jumping. He had a vague memory of such beans from attending a school fair.
“What do you suppose they are?” Miriam whispered.
“I saw these years ago,” he said. “Here, take your magic beans, Isaac.”
He reached into his pocket for his cell phone, tapped the screen, found a site. “Look, I found a video.”
They crowded around him and watched what the video voiceover announced was a pupa—a worm—emerge from the bean. After a few minutes, it became a moth and flew away.
Miriam gasped. “That’s amazing. But Isaac, when we get home you have to leave them on the porch. Mamm won’t let you take them in the house. They’re bugs.”
He gave a big sigh and shrugged. “Allrecht.”
“Mark?”
He turned to Emma. “Yes?”
“Is that how you look things up? On your phone?”
“Yes. Sometimes. You can find all sorts of things on the Internet with it.”
“You’re smart like Miriam. Oh, I don’t mean she looks up things on the phone. But she’s always teaching us stuff. Even in s
ummer.”
He wasn’t sure if it was a compliment, but he had a sudden inspiration. Tapping the screen again, he found a short cartoon video of the fairy tale and handed it to Emma to watch.
She beamed. “Is this the way the Englisch tell stories?”
“Sometimes.”
“Miriam reads to the kinner every night. Both ways are nice.” Emma watched the short video then handed him the phone.
“Danki for looking all that up,” Miriam said as Emma turned to study the beans with her bruder. “I would have let him take the beans into the house and then we’d have had a moth flying around. So, he paid a dollar for . . . worms that become moths,” she said quietly.
“Took advantage of a kid, huh? You want me to go talk to the guy?”
She stared at him, looking surprised. “Nee. It was just a dollar, after all.”
“The Amish get taken advantage of all the time. It’s not right.”
Miriam smiled. “Now you sound like a lawyer.”
“I am one. You’re not going to tell a lawyer joke, are you?”
“I don’t know any.”
“Oh, that’s right. I get so used to people telling them, I didn’t think. Of course you wouldn’t know any. It’s the kind of thing they do in my world. Make jokes about our occupation. They even do it to teachers these days.”
“Well, I know the Englisch think we’re a little naïve, and I suppose we are about the ways of your world.” Miriam studied her bruder. “But he was entertained for a while, and he’s learned a lesson that will serve him in life.”
“A science lesson as well.”
“True. Not that we teach science in schul. But a lesson in nature, shall we say?” She climbed into the wagon. “Tell John I said hello.”
“I will. And thank you for selling that produce for him today. I’m sure he appreciates it.”
He stood there watching her drive off and found himself frowning. Did his grandfather need money so badly that he sold produce from the kitchen garden? He didn’t remember him doing that before. Lost in thought, he wandered back into the house.
His grandfather always had seemed so strong and self-sufficient. He’d gotten used to him being there for him. When he’d visited in the summer, sure, he’d helped. But his visits had grown shorter and shorter in recent years.
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