Seeds of Hope

by Barbara Cameron

  The child nodded.

  “Then please put some in a bag for Mark.”

  Ruth raced off to do what her mudder told her.

  “That’s the first time she hasn’t looked sad since the accident,” Lovina told Mark. “Danki.”

  Twenty-Three

  “Miriam!”

  At the sound of her name, Miriam turned from watering the flowers in the front yard and saw Lovina hurrying toward her.

  Alarmed, she stood. “What is it? Are you allrecht?”

  Lovina burst into tears. “You can’t imagine what just happened!”

  Miriam took her arm and led her to one of the rocking chairs on the porch. “Here, sit down. You’re shaking. Is something wrong with Abraham? One of the kinner?”

  “Mark brought that teenager who hit the buggy to our house.” She pulled a tissue from her apron pocket and dabbed at her streaming eyes. “Miriam, he got him to give us a check to fix the buggy and pay for the medical expenses.”

  Her heart leaped. “He did?”

  Lovina nodded. “He had him apologize, too. You know, he seemed really sorry. I think Mark had a good talk with him, made him see he’d done wrong.” She chuckled. “I told Mark maybe he was trying to be a teacher like you.”

  Miriam sank into the chair beside her. “When did this happen?”

  “Just a little while ago.” Lovina tucked the tissue back into her apron pocket. “Abraham didn’t want to take the check at first. He was afraid Mark had forced Jason. But he said he didn’t. Jason, I mean.” She sighed and leaned back into the chair. “Oh, this means we can get the buggy fixed and pay the vet and the hospital expenses.”

  A car pulled into the drive.

  “There’s our hero now,” Miriam murmured.

  ”I should go so the two of you can talk,” Lovina said and she jumped to her feet.

  “Don’t go,” she said, but she couldn’t take her eyes off Mark as he crossed the lawn with long strides.

  Lovina chuckled. “See you later.”

  “Allrecht.” She watched Lovina stop, talk with Mark for a moment, and whatever she said made him smile.

  How she loved that smile. She hadn’t seen it much since he came here so upset about his job in the city.

  Mark climbed the steps and sat down in the chair Lovina had vacated.

  “I heard the good news. Danki for helping them. I knew you could.”

  Mark shrugged. “I didn’t do much. I don’t think Jason’s a bad kid. He made a big mistake, but hopefully he’s learned something from it.” He looked out at the surrounding fields. “I went to college with some kids like him. They grow up with a lot of privilege, have parents who indulge them. Sometimes they don’t realize there can be consequences to what they do.” He stopped, turned to her, and grinned. “There’s that word you love.”

  Miriam stared at him. It hit her hard at that moment. She loved him. Really loved him. He was a decent, caring man, one who did his best to help his grossdaadi, his friends in the community, a family in pain and need.

  “Miriam?”

  She realized he was staring at her, looking puzzled. “Ya. I’m sorry, I was just thinking about how happy Lovina was. She had a . . . rougher time with this than you can know. The money can’t make everything better, but it helps ease a lot of the worry for both of them.”

  “I got cookies for payment.” He grinned. “I’ve never gotten cookies for my services before.”

  Miriam laughed. “Where are these cookies?”

  “I ate three on the way over here.”

  “Lovina bakes gut cookies. I should find some way to thank you for what you did for them.”

  “You’ve already baked me plenty of cookies. And pies.”

  “Those were for you and John, and well before you agreed to help Abraham and Lovina.”

  “It’s called pro bono.”

  “Pro what?”

  “Pro bono. Attorneys often help people who can’t afford their services. I haven’t done enough of it for some time. I worked too many hours. But maybe I’ll think about doing some since I have some time on my hands.” Mark rocked for a few minutes in comfortable silence. “You know what was better than the cookies? Abraham and Lovina’s youngest girl smiled. It felt so good to see her smile after the kids were so sad and quiet that day we were there together. I wish you’d been there to see it.”

  “Me, too.”

  He had such a gut heart. Who couldn’t love a man who cared about kinner that way? Emotion swamped her. She stared at her hands folded in her lap and struggled for composure, for something to say to break the silence before he realized how she was feeling. He’d always understood her better than anyone except her mudder.

  A buggy rolled past. Inspiration struck. She took a deep breath, plunged ahead.

  “Saul told me the other day that he doesn’t understand a letter he got about a permit he wants from the city.” She looked at him. “Maybe you could help?”

  “Are you trying to keep me busy?” he asked.

  “Can’t have you twiddling your thumbs after harvest is over,” she shot back, feeling calmer. “Got to keep boys busy so they don’t get into mischief.”

  He shot her a sharp glance. “Have you been talking to Samuel?”

  “Should I?”

  “No!” he said emphatically.

  Miriam laughed. “I know the two of you sometimes went looking for trouble.”

  “I’ll take the Fifth.”

  “I know what that means. No self-incrimination. But I don’t think lawyers know how to keep their mouths shut, do they?”

  He groaned. “Here come the bad lawyer jokes. I thought you said you didn’t know any.”

  “I don’t. I only know you.”

  He clapped a hand to his chest. “Oh, now you wound me. I’m a bad lawyer?”

  Her jaw dropped. “Oh my, nee, I didn’t mean that.”

  Mark touched her hand. “I know. I’m just teasing.”

  His touch sent a tingle all the way up her arm. Did he feel it, too?

  Something shimmered in the air, an awareness even more powerful than she’d felt the other day. She leaned toward him, her gaze on his mouth . . .

  The screen door creaked open, the sound echoing in the stillness like a gunshot. They sprang apart and Miriam jerked around to see who was coming out onto the porch.

  She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw Isaac.

  “Miriam, Mamm says see if Mark wants to stay for supper.”

  So her mudder knew he was out here with her. Did that mean she’d looked out the window, seen them about to kiss, and sent Isaac to interrupt them?

  Mark stood quickly. “Tell her thank you, but I need to get home.”

  “Allrecht.” He went back inside, letting the door slam behind him.

  “Miriam—”

  “I have to go help Mamm. Danki for stopping by.” She escaped like the chicken she felt herself to be.

  “Stupid, stupid, stupid,” Mark muttered under his breath all the way home. What was the matter with him?

  He couldn’t act on his attraction to Miriam. He just couldn’t. It wouldn’t be fair to her when he returned home. And wouldn’t it be a betrayal of their friendship?

  She lived in a community where her innocence was protected, her relationships prescribed. Her future was traditional, predictable. Amish married Amish almost exclusively. There were few Englisch who converted to the Amish faith in order to marry, and the adjustment was hard.

  And few Amish left the church to marry an Englischer. To do so meant being shunned by their community, family, and friends. He could never do that to Miriam. She loved her family and her school children so much.

  He was in quite a mood when he got home, and was grateful to find the house empty. The best thing to do when he was in a bad mood was to avoid other people, so he went up to his room. He took his laptop from the dresser and sat down on the bed to check his email. There was nothing important. No responses to the four resumes he’d se
nt out several days ago to the top law firms in Philadelphia. Well, it was too early really to expect a response.

  But it didn’t mean he had to sit and wait. He opened the “Job Search” folder on his desktop and scanned the list of firms he wanted to apply to. Selecting the names of four more, he revised his cover letter to tailor it to each specific firm, then submitted them by email with his resume attached.

  Then he reached out to two men he’d attended college with, asking if there were any vacancies at their firms. The thought that they already knew about his situation made Mark uncomfortable. It was easier to approach firms with which he wasn’t acquainted. His finger lingered over the send button a moment before tapping it. Done. If they responded in the negative . . . well, he’d be no worse off.

  And maybe, just maybe, he’d get a positive response.

  There was a rap on the door frame and his grandfather poked his head in. “You hungry?”

  “A little.”

  “Let’s have some supper.”

  “Okay. I’ll be right down.”

  He shut down the laptop and put it back on the dresser. His mood felt a little lighter as he descended the stairs. Doing something felt like progress. He made a mental note to charge the laptop and his cell phone in his car later. Thank goodness they were on the edge of the Amish community and he could piggyback on their Englisch neighbor’s WiFi.

  His grandfather had his head in the refrigerator. “Got some leftover baked chicken, bread, and butter summer squash, macaroni salad, some ripe tomatoes to slice.”

  “Sounds good.” Mark glanced at the plastic container on the kitchen countertop. “What’s that?”

  John carried the cold chicken and a couple of containers from the refrigerator to the table and set them down. “Pie. Waneta, Lovina’s mudder, dropped it off a little while ago. Told me what you did for her dochder and Abraham.”

  “She didn’t need to do that.” He shrugged. “Least I could do.”

  John gestured to the loaf of bread on the counter. “Bring that over and slice it for us. Well, you managed to do it in a way that didn’t involve the police or the court. So it’s a gut thing.” He reached into a cupboard and brought plates to the table, then sat.

  “Lovina said you brought the young man who hit them with his car, and he apologized. Sounds like a fine way to settle things. Maybe the boy will learn from the experience.”

  “That’s what I hope.” Mark searched for a way to change the subject. “Miriam’s already decided I should help someone else. Said Saul doesn’t understand some permit issue with the county. So I’m going over there tomorrow to see what’s up. I figure it’s just some legalese I can explain.”

  “You do know that,” John acknowledged soberly.

  They bent their heads to say thanks for the meal, then ate in silence for a few minutes.

  “Glad you attended services on Sunday. Been a long time since you’ve done that.”

  “I’ve always enjoyed it. Mom got Dad to attend church, you know.”

  “Nee, I didn’t.”

  “They settled on a Methodist church. Mom grew up Catholic, but that was too strict for Dad.”

  “He was always chafing about the rules of the Ordnung here.” His grandfather stopped eating and stared into the distance. “He had to find a different path for himself, I guess.” He looked at Mark. “And then he led you that way until they came for a visit and you wanted to come for the summer.”

  “I guess I’ve always walked both paths.” And felt divided. But he didn’t say it. He didn’t want to upset John. Besides, it wasn’t a bad thing to have experienced two such different cultures. He hoped that made him more sensitive to people, made him think along different lines. Outside the box, some might say. Odd expression, that.

  He buttered a slice of bread and bit into it. Some days he felt he could make a meal out of just bread and butter, it was so good here.

  His appetite picked up with the simple meal, surprising him.

  “Got room for pie?”

  “When don’t I?”

  John chuckled. “Never met a man, Amish or Englisch, who could turn down an Amish woman’s pie. This one’s blackberry.”

  One of his favorites. Had Waneta known that or was it just because the berries were in season now?

  If work wasn’t so hard here, he’d have had to worry about gaining weight. It was one of the things he was going to miss when he went back to Philadelphia.

  He debated telling his grandfather about the resumes he’d submitted, and decided against it. Better to wait until he had some news.

  “So you’re going to help Saul?”

  “I’ll look over the permit situation for him. See if I have any advice for him.”

  “Thought you did criminal law.”

  “We get basic training before we specialize.”

  “I see.” He polished off his piece of pie and cut another for himself.

  Mark restrained himself from a second helping. After all, he’d had those cookies earlier.

  They worked together to clear the table. Back home, it would have been a quick thing to stick the dirty plates in a dishwasher. But Mark didn’t mind. He was learning not to rush, to do simple chores, to “be in the moment,” as Englischers put it.

  Then it was time for a last walk out to the barn to check on the animals. Mark had come to think of it as a parent tucking in their children for the night. Certainly his grandfather treated the animals like his children.

  The days were long and hard. How did his grandfather do it? Mark was much younger, and thoroughly exhausted at the end of each day. And while it was true that men in the community helped each other with farming chores, they couldn’t fully run Grandfather’s farm on top of their own farms. His grandfather didn’t want to put the farm up for sale, but what else could be done? One way or the other, it was about to pass out of the Byler family after generations.

  “Something wrong?”

  Mark jerked to attention. “What?”

  “You’re being quiet.”

  “Just thinking.”

  They headed back to the house. A big house. Much too big for just the two of them—make that one of them, since Mark was only visiting.

  “Why didn’t you get married again?”

  John turned to stare at him. “Where did that come from?”

  “I don’t know. I was just looking at this house and thinking it was big for one man.”

  “It is.” He gestured at the rocking chairs on the back porch. They sat. “Never found another woman I wanted to marry, I guess.” He grinned. “A few nice women came by after a while, bringing food, saying they were concerned I wasn’t eating right. You know how it is.”

  “No. Englisch women don’t cook like Amish women.”

  John chuckled. “There’s something to be said for traditional roles.”

  Remembering that Waneta was a widow, Mark turned to him. “Was that pie Waneta brought by for me or for you?”

  “Today she said it was for you.”

  “I see.”

  “The bishop finally gave up on me.” He chuckled. “He’d rather not have single men in his community. I think he was hoping I’d marry Waneta or one of the other widows.” He glanced at Mark. “But I’m still not ready.”

  “Grossmudder’s been gone for ten years.”

  “And like I said, I’m not ready yet.” He rose and patted Mark’s shoulder. “Well, these old bones want their bed. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Sleep well.”

  He sat there thinking about what his grandfather had said. Funny how they were far apart in age but both of them unmarried. It seemed the Byler men were going to be single for a while yet.

  Twenty-Four

  She’d never considered herself a foolish, romantic maedel.

  So why was she daydreaming about almost kissing Mark?

  And how was she going to avoid temptation when she saw him on a near-daily basis?

  Miriam yanked a weed and t
hrew it on the pile to her right. She had to think about something else or she’d go crazy.

  “I think it’s time for a break,” her mudder said.

  “In a minute. I’m almost finished.”

  “There isn’t another weed in sight,” Sarah said. “I do believe they’ve run off to hide.”

  Miriam sat back and sighed. “You’re right.” She stood, brushed dirt from her skirt.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” her mudder asked, slipping her arm around her waist as they walked to the house.

  “Talk about pulling weeds?” Miriam forced herself to smile.

  Her mudder just looked at her until Miriam looked away. “I’m allrecht. I’m just working something through in my head.”

  “And you have a gut head,” Sarah said quietly. “When you want to talk, I’m here.”

  Miriam stopped and so her mudder had to as well. She turned and put her head on her shoulder. “Oh, Mamm, your dochder doesn’t have a gut head. She’s just fallen head over heels over a man she can’t be with.”

  Sarah patted her back. “We don’t always love wisely.”

  “You did. Why can’t I be like you?”

  She turned her and guided her toward the house. “Because God created you to be the special Miriam that you are. “ She opened the back door. “He doesn’t make two exactly the same.”

  “Except those Zook twins” Miriam gave a mock shudder.

  “And He doesn’t make mistakes.”

  “Well, God doesn’t, but I sure do.”

  “Falling in love with Mark might be unwise, but would you call it a mistake?”

  Shocked, Miriam stared at her mudder. “You don’t?”

  “It’s not my job to judge.” Sarah said, stroking her cheek. “It’s my job to love you.”

  They fixed glasses of iced tea and sat at the kitchen table.

  “You sound surprised about loving him. It’s not a far walk from loving a friend to loving him as more than that.”

  Miriam nodded. “I think I need to avoid seeing him until he goes home.”

  “That won’t be easy.”

  “I’m still going to cook and bake for him and John, but I’ll see if I can just drop things off and not get into any conversations or . . . situations . . . with Mark while there.”