Mose got to his feet. “You speak words of wisdom, and I thank you. I’m sure you will support whatever action I take.”
Deacon Yoder held out the letter. “She’s your promised one, and you will have to live with her after you’ve said the vows. So do what you must.”
Mose grabbed the letter and stuffed it back into the envelope. “Thank you again for your counsel.”
A slight smile played on Deacon Yoder’s face. “I’m sorry this had to happen to you, Mose, but we all have our trials given to us by the Lord. Looks like yours has arrived early in your second quest for a frau. May you find the grace to bear the burden.”
“I’m sure I will,” Mose said as he beat a hasty retreat. Already he was being laughed at, although he was sure the deacon meant no unkindness. The matter would remain a secret with Deacon Yoder for the time being. The man was known for his tight lips on church matters. But he knew how rumors could circulate. The unknown woman in Oklahoma who had seen Miriam kissing the Englisha man would soon let something slip, and then the news would be out. He would have to make the trip to Oklahoma soon. In the meantime he wouldn’t write Miriam any more letters. Her guilt would grow with his silence, and she’d be even more ready to repent once he arrived with his strong rebuke. Mose untied his horse and climbed in his buggy to drive quickly out of the lane.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Miriam awoke with a start and sat up in bed. What was that noise? It sounded like heavy shoes running through the hallway, followed by a shout from outside that she couldn’t understand. The voice was clearly Uncle William’s. Some emergency must have occurred, but why would her uncle race outside in the middle of the night?
Miriam reached for the ticking alarm clock but stopped when her glance passed to the bedroom window. A soft flicker of red blinked on the drapes. Something outside was burning. But what? With a cry Miriam threw the covers aside and pulled on her heavy housecoat. The red light from the window was clearly increasing in its intensity. From below, the stair door opened with a bang, as if it had been thrown against the wall with great force.
Aunt Fannie’s urgent call filled the stairwell. “Miriam! Fire!”
Miriam opened her bedroom door and stuck her head out to answer, “I’m coming!”
Miriam grabbed a scarf from the top dresser drawer and tied it around her loose hair. This was an emergency, and the scarf would have to do for a kapp. She didn’t have time to put up her hair. Outside in the hallway Miriam took the stairs with care. Whatever the need was outside, she wouldn’t gain anything if she broke her leg on the way down. On second thought she should have taken the time to light the kerosene lamp. But it was too late now. Miriam felt her way with her hands and moved faster when the flicker of red light from the fire reached through the living room window. With a rush Miriam entered the living room where Aunt Fannie stood by the window with a quilt draped over her shoulders, her head bare. Wild light rose and fell on the house walls. Miriam hurried to her aunt’s side, and Aunt Fannie reached for Miriam with one arm. One look outside was all Miriam needed. The barn was on fire, and not just one corner. The whole length of the building was engulfed in flames that reached ever higher skyward.
“Has someone called the fire department?” Miriam asked. Of course they had, but what else was there to say?
“I’m sure William ran down to the phone shack,” Aunt Fannie answered. “Not that it will do much good. The whole barn is gone, but at least the horses are out to pasture this time of the year. Oh, Miriam, what have we done to provoke the Lord’s wrath?”
“You haven’t done anything,” Miriam said at once. “These things happen.”
But deep down guilt filled her heart. If anyone was at fault, it was her. Had her unconfessed sin with Tyler brought the judgment of God upon her innocent relatives? But surely a stolen kiss in a moment of weakness didn’t deserve this. Miriam pulled her silent aunt close to whisper, “You should get dressed. There will be plenty of people here soon. And there’s nothing we can do outside.”
Aunt Fannie shook her head and moved toward the front door. “Come. We will stand with William if nothing else. The people will understand.”
Miriam followed her aunt outside. The faint form of her uncle came down the lane from Highway 48 with slow steps. Uncle William shielded his face with his hands and stayed on the far side near the wire fence. Aunt Fannie met him near the house. With a loud cry she wrapped her arms around him. The quilt slipped to the ground and Aunt Fannie’s nightgown fluttered in the light breeze. Her long waist-length hair was colored with strange light from the flames that leaped into the sky.
“It’ll be okay,” Miriam heard Uncle William say. He bent sideways and picked the quilt up to place it back over his frau’s shoulders. The two stood together, their faces turned toward the burning building.
Miriam gave a silent cry of her own and dashed back to the front porch. She couldn’t stand her aunt and uncle’s pain, and they needed this moment alone to grieve. Maybe she could comfort Jonathon if he awakened, but she hoped he wouldn’t. This was a horror a young child should be spared. She wanted comforting arms around her own shoulders right now. She wanted to bury her head in a man’s chest and weep, but there was no one. Aloneness crept over her. Then a dizzying awareness struck her. It was Tyler she wanted beside her right now. Mose seemed like the fire itself—fierce, intense, and destructive. But that was the kind of sinful thinking that perhaps caused God to send this tragedy on them. Yah, it had to be. What was her future to be with a man like Mose? Yet she knew she could never choose Tyler’s wildness, his mystery, his handsome face over all that was decent, upright, and just among her people. She couldn’t jump the fence into the Englisha world.
“Nay, I cannot,” Miriam silently screamed toward the heavens.
The crackle of the flames answered her, as if to mock the will of her heart to overcome. How could this weakness be in her? She had kissed Tyler. There was no sense in denying the truth. And worse, she had enjoyed the moment. Only the intensity of her own emotions had brought a shock of reality, and she had come to her senses with an explosion of anger. But Tyler saw through all that. She was sure he did. Why else would he have dared show up and finagle a trip to the youth gathering in his car? Her anger when Tyler picked her up had served only to raise Aunt Fannie’s eyebrows. Thankfully her aunt had written off the indiscretion to her tiredness as she had stomped out of the house right in front of them all.
Little good that had done. On the way home Tyler had stopped his car short of her uncle and aunt’s driveway, and they had kissed again. Tyler had been the one who stopped their kiss and had started the car to drive on again. And now the world was on fire. She was too weary to wonder anymore. She wanted only to sleep and sleep until somehow this all went away. How could it be that she, Miriam Yoder, baptized Miriam Yoder, faithful-to-a-fault Miriam Yoder, was in love with an Englisha man, and she could do nothing about it? No wonder Uncle William’s barn was in flames. She was somehow to blame for this. The tears trickled down Miriam’s cheeks as she gazed into the fiery light.
The wail of sirens and bright lights in the distance interrupted Miriam’s thoughts. She wiped her eyes and glanced into the house. Jonathon would awaken now, if he hadn’t already. With all the noise there was no way to hide this tragedy from his eyes. Perhaps it was better if Jonathon got to see his daett’s barn burn rather than rise from bed in the morning to see only black, ugly ashes on the ground.
Miriam slipped into the house and pushed open Jonathon’s bedroom door to approach his bed.
“Jonathon,” she called, gently shaking him. “Wake up.”
He groaned and opened his eyes, but alarm soon filled them.
She should have thought of a less dramatic way of waking him, but it was too late now. “You need to come with me,” she ordered.
The wail of sirens was louder now, and Jonathon ran to his bedroom window to look outside. Miriam followed to drape her arms over his thin, bare shoulders.
<
br /> “It’s a fire,” he said. “The barn.”
“Yah, come.”
“Is it the middle of the night?” Jonathon asked, looking up at her.
“Yah, but you must come.”
“Why is the barn burning?” Jonathon asked as he returned to his bedside to pull on his small pants.
Miriam helped him with his shirt but didn’t answer. Words seemed too heavy to utter right now, and what was the answer?
“Why?” Jonathon insisted. “Why would the barn burn?”
“Just come.” Miriam took his hand. “I wish you didn’t have to see this, but perhaps it is for the best.”
He asked no more questions but followed Miriam. In the living room, Jonathon went to stare out of the window with wide eyes. After a moment, Miriam took him by the hand to lead him outside. Aunt Fannie noticed them and came at a fast run. She scooped up Jonathon with both hands, and sat with him on the porch step. With slow strokes she ran her hand through his hair and whispered murmuring sounds. Aunt Fannie needed her own comfort, Miriam decided, so she sat on the other side of the pair and draped her arm around Aunt Fannie’s shoulders.
“Oh, dear Lord,” Aunt Fannie prayed out loud, “have mercy upon us. Forgive us our sins. Remember not our trespasses that we have done…”
Miriam covered her face with her free hand and tried to join in her aunt’s prayer, but the words froze on her lips. Hot waves from the fire blew their way, and Jonathon snuggled deeper into his mamm’s arms. None of them moved as the firemen set up their trucks and the first blast of water lifted skyward.
It was all too little, too late, Miriam told herself. The firemen seemed to know this and concentrated their efforts on the side toward the house. The greenhouse roof received a share of the attention. The men sprayed a sheet of water on the wall and roof facing the barn. The metal steamed in the fire’s light and added to the surreal feeling that hung over the place.
Aunt Fannie had ceased her prayer, her gaze fixed on the activities around them. Miriam saw numerous headlights appear on the highway, and then slow down as people parked along the road. Aunt Fannie still had the quilt wrapped over her shoulders with Jonathon under it now. Tyler should be here, Miriam told herself. It was a horrible thing to think, but she couldn’t help herself.
“We should fix something to eat,” Aunt Fannie muttered as she rose to her feet. “And we should both get dressed properly. Jonathon, don’t get off the porch,” Aunt Fannie ordered before she turned to go.
Miriam followed her aunt inside.
“We’ll fix something after we’ve changed.” Aunt Fannie motioned toward the bedroom. “I’ll be right back.”
Miriam took a kerosene lamp and hurried upstairs. When she had changed, Miriam returned to the kitchen. By the feeble light of the lamp, she searched the cupboard and placed what she found on the table. There were several pies, a plate of brownies, and cookies—that should be enough.
“We should make coffee,” Aunt Fannie said as she reappeared fully dressed. “There are a lot of firemen out there. They should have something.”
“I can make both pots in here,” Miriam offered, running the logistics through her mind. “We can serve off the front porch unless you want to bring up the small table from the basement.”
“The front porch is fine.” Aunt Fannie seemed distracted and returned to the living room window for a moment.
“Just go back outside,” Miriam told her aunt when she returned. “Take what you can carry, and I’ll bring the rest.”
Aunt Fannie gave Miriam a quick hug and exclaimed, “What would I do without you tonight? William’s heart will be broken to pieces. We have no extra money laid up to rebuild that I know of, and how can people give again when…” Aunt Fannie didn’t finish her sentence. “Sorry, Miriam. I shouldn’t have such a breakdown. I know that somehow the Lord will provide.”
Miriam wanted to say something, but the words wouldn’t come. Her guilt was like a cold stone that froze her emotions. Aunt Fannie picked up what she could carry and left. Miriam waited until the water was boiling and then strained the coffee. She left more water to heat while she took the first two pots outside. A few firemen had already gathered near the porch steps and took the cups of coffee eagerly from her hands as she poured them.
“Thank you,” the first one told her.
Another also thanked her and then said something to the other fireman that caused Miriam’s heart to jump.
“I wonder if they’re getting this kind of service at the other fire?”
“That’s an Amish homestead too, isn’t it?” the second fireman replied.
“Yep, that’s what I heard.”
“Isn’t that strange? Two Amish barn fires the same night.”
“Arson, I would say, but the big boys will have to confirm that.”
Miriam clutched Aunt Fannie’s arm. “What is it they’re saying?” Miriam whispered.
Aunt Fannie turned her face, and Miriam saw her aunt’s tear-streaked cheeks. “Yah, William told me,” her aunt choked. “It’s Deacon Phillips’s barn. The Lord must have stirred His wrath greatly toward us as a community.”
A sob escaped Miriam’s lips, and the cup of coffee she was holding crashed to the concrete porch floor. Tyler was staying with Deacon Phillips. And here was where she lived. Two fires. Yah, this was surely the Lord’s judgment. Like with Elijah of old, the fire had fallen from heaven.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
The middle of the following week Miriam pulled the buggy into the Bylers’ lane, and Star lifted his head to whinny as they approached the remnants of the burned-out barn.
“Take it easy,” Miriam called calmly to him. “It’s okay.”
Crews of local Amish men had gathered last Saturday to help with the cleanup, but the police had stretched crime-scene tape between the trees encircling the ashes. No one had been allowed in or out. Police cars had been parked in the Bylers’ driveway until late Saturday night. Only after Uncle William had begged them to leave until Monday morning had they left so that the family could spend Sunday in peace. The officer in charge hadn’t appeared happy about the decision.
“We have our duty to perform, Mr. Byler. Surely you understand that,” the officer had snapped. “And our job is to protect all our citizens—including you Amish.”
“The Lord gives us protection,” Uncle William had said. “We will trust Him.”
“Doesn’t look like you made out too well here,” the officer said, waving his arm toward the burned building.
Uncle William hung his head. “We believe we should submit to the Lord’s will, whatever it is.”
The officer had grunted but said no more. Great shame had fallen over the community with the intrusion of the police. Deacon Phillips had fared no better when clear signs of arson were found behind his barn. Someone had set both fires on purpose.
Tyler hadn’t shown his face on Sunday at the service or the hymn singing. Miriam’s heart ached. What was the cause of this tragedy? Were Tyler and she to blame? WasTyler asking the same questions as she was? But how could he? Tyler wasn’t from the community and never would be. Her heart was the one that had clearly betrayed her. And to make matters worse, she learned on Monday morning from one of the schoolchildren that Tyler had moved out of Deacon Phillips’s basement the day after the fires. Had Tyler left for his own reasons after he had taken such liberties with her, or had Deacon Phillips asked Tyler to leave and kept the matter a secret from everyone for a few days? Either option sent stabs of pain through her.
Perhaps tonight those questions would be answered as this morning Uncle William had announced, “Tyler wants a meeting with Deacon Phillips and me here at our place tonight.”
Aunt Fannie had brightened a little and responded, “So we will be seeing him again. I have the women’s sewing this afternoon, but I’ll be home in plenty of time to get ready.”
Miriam was as anxious for answers as everyone else. But was Tyler about to expose their relationship tonigh
t? Why would he? Did Tyler hope to get her to leave with him now that he planned to leave the community? Surely not. She would just have to wait and see. With the meeting held at her aunt and uncle’s house, she would at least learn something. Aunt Fannie would tell her both the gut and the bad.
“Mostly bad,” Miriam told herself as she parked by the greenhouse and climbed out of the buggy. Her mind spun as she wondered why it seemed the Lord’s face had turned from her. She had trusted Him to heal her heart of its wrong desires, but it had seemed only to fall even lower. She had kissed Tyler, not once but twice. Hot streaks of shame ran along Miriam’s face.
Miriam forced herself to unhitch Star and lead him into the temporary shelter the men had erected behind the greenhouse. She left him there in the makeshift stall where he began to munch happily on the strands of hay still left in the manger. Miriam retreated again. A wisp of a breeze stirred the ash pile in the barn foundation and made the fallen timbers creak against each other. The sound was soft and muted, unlike the noise healthy wood made when moved by the wind. But everything was troubled right now. The burned-out barn was really the least of her worries.
Even Aunt Fannie, whose faith rarely wavered, was disturbed. Her aunt made little exclamations to herself while she worked in the house. “Why, Lord? What have we done? Protect us, please.” Or the oft repeated, “Let not our will be done, but Yours, Lord.”
Miriam pulled her gaze away from the burned hull of the barn to enter the house. Jonathon came at a run and flew into her arms. She held him for a long time. He had rebounded well from his trauma last week and would have played in the soot if his mamm had let him. No red tape stopped Jonathon like his mamm’s commands. Miriam had yet to see him venture anywhere near the ashes.
Miriam set Jonathon on the floor when Aunt Fannie bustled out of the bedroom in a clean dress and apron, announcing, “The meeting with Tyler is right after supper. I figured I wouldn’t have time to change later.”
Miriam and the Stranger Page 19
