Miriam and the Stranger

by Jerry S. Eicher

  I will write later about my involvement in the initial discovery work, but suffice it to say for now the trail of corruption leads to the highest levels of Oklahoma state politics. After threat letters were repeatedly sent to me and two Amish properties were burned to the ground in clear intimidation attempts, federal investigators are now involved. Sitting US Senator Yentas denies that his political campaign was involved in any way or received any of the diverted monies. He has referred all questions to his lawyers. However this ends, the Amish are due our gratitude and respect. They wish to remain out of the courtroom as befits their convictions and religious beliefs. It is my hope that the investigators in charge will respect these wishes. There must be some way in a modern political corruption investigation to leave room for privacy in the lives of such exemplar men and women. The least we can do is cause them no harm.

  I have nothing but good to say about the time I stayed in the community. I was taken in as a friend, even though I was clearly an outsider. I was given the hospitality and trust these people display so freely. May God bless them. I will always remember my brief stay with such a godly people with great tenderness and a thankful heart.

  Tyler attached the document to an e-mail and pressed “send.” His editor might have a few changes, but this should do. He really didn’t need to explain his own role further. The media had the information they needed about a freelance journalist who had exposed what others had failed to see. He planned to say nothing about Miriam Yoder or his feelings about a certain bishop she was engaged to. He hoped the reporters weren’t hounding William Byler’s place right now or Deacon Phillips’s. His departure from the community had already left enough of a bitter taste. The truth was he had exploited the Amish in their acceptance of him. His conscience had informed him of that a long time ago, and no rationalization had persuaded it otherwise. He considered writing an apology to Deacon Phillips, but that wouldn’t change much. The Amish didn’t harbor grudges, and they valued a changed life more than spoken words.

  After this had all settled, he had in mind a book project about his few weeks spent in the Clarita community. With the level of interest the public had in Amish affairs, he ought to make the New York Times Best-seller List for sure. His experience had the sizzle of all the hot buttons: corruption, politics, and love. He’d have to tell it all if he wrote the book—how he had felt when taken into the community’s embrace and how his attraction to an Amish girl who was promised to a young bishop came about. He’d have to reveal Miriam’s passionate kisses and include her voluntary excommunication as punishment for her transgressions. And lastly it would have to include Miriam’s brave refusal to leave the community with him.

  The rejection still stung. His pride was badly battered. He wasn’t used to such treatment from women. Hilda had complained a little when he called her yesterday, but they had a date scheduled tonight. All would be forgiven and forgotten.

  “Oh, well,” Tyler sighed. “It’s back to where I left off. For better or for worse.”

  He would have to accept reality. Miriam had given him the boot. And what would he do with her in his world anyway? He had offered Miriam marriage, but perhaps her refusal was for the best. How could he deal with an ex-Amish woman living with him in Oklahoma City? Even if Miriam had tried, she couldn’t have changed overnight, and in some things her heart might never change. Miriam was who she was. Probably the charm of the community had affected his judgment. He had played games with their young people and attended their meetings, but that didn’t mean he was one of them. They knew that, even if he didn’t.

  Maybe an early lunch with Hilda would help clear his mind. Or Mimi Coons? He hadn’t called her in months. Mimi worked for an online newspaper, so at least they had journalism in common. That was how they had met in the first place. Mimi might have a regular boyfriend by now, but maybe she’d want to meet him for an interview. He was hot news and had refused to answer more than the basic questions from any other reporter. An intimate look at his time among the Amish would be the first step in his book project—if he could persuade himself to write it. He wanted to keep that private for now. And he had to get over Miriam first. Her tears were not his business now. And Miriam had the bishop to comfort her. They’d be married soon and have a dozen children before that many years rolled by. So why should he be so sentimental?

  Mimi would be just the ticket to restore both his edge and his injured ego. There would be admiring glances and hints from Mimi. They made a pretty good couple, he had to admit. Mimi would get what she wanted out of lunch, and he would get what he needed: a female who pretended to adore him.

  Tyler punched “contacts” on his phone and found Mimi’s number. Thankfully, he hadn’t deleted it. Quickly he typed in the text. “Tyler here, from way back. Sweet memories! Remember? Want to do lunch? The Amish are hot stuff right now, you know.”

  He pressed “send” and waited. The bait might not be enough. Perhaps he should have made the message stronger and offered an interview outright. She’d be skeptical of him—and with good reason.

  Tyler grinned when the tone sounded seconds later on his phone. With glee he read the message. “Name the place and time.”

  He still had his charm.

  Tyler typed in his answer: “Perino’s, off the turnpike, N. May Ave. @ 11:30.”

  That should be downscale enough. Not fast food and not a formal restaurant. Just a quiet place to have a good meal. When no response came, Tyler glanced at his watch. He’d have time to change and make it down to North May Avenue with minutes to spare.

  Tyler headed toward the bedroom where he pulled on a clean pair of jeans and shirt. His glance into the closet took in the black, collarless Amish suit he had asked Deacon Phillips’s wife, Katie, to sew for him. She had begun the work a week after he first made contact with the Amish community. He had acted on impulse and had planned to wear it to a Sunday church service, but Katie hadn’t finished before his schedule had been interrupted. She had handed the suit to him, all wrapped up in plastic, on the evening before the fire. On his last Sunday in the community, he was no longer welcome. To wear the suit would have been like pouring salt in an open wound.

  “Oh, well,” Tyler said aloud. He shrugged. He should wear it for his lunch with Mimi. She’d get a kick out of the outfit, and it would play his part well.

  No, he wouldn’t do that, Tyler decided. The Amish had gotten to him more than he realized. The least he could do was refrain from subjecting their way of life to ridicule.

  Tyler gathered up his tablet and phone. Moments later he was driving across town. He encountered no delays and arrived on time. His life in the outside world ran with ruthless efficiency. His edge had been blunted in his weeks among the community people, but he had recovered it. Their slower pace and flexibility had drawn him in, but that was all behind him now.

  Tyler parked and locked the car. Mimi was waiting inside, dressed in a sharp, dark blue dress. Tyler saw visions of young Amish girls clad in the same color, only the dresses had been longer and fuller.

  “Howdy, stranger!” Mimi waved her hand.

  “It has been a long time,” Tyler agreed.

  “So come sit down and tell me how I get an exclusive with you.”

  “The blood is in the water, I see,” Tyler teased. “Why should I give it to you?”

  She gave him an adoring look. “Because I’m so special.”

  Now Tyler laughed. “That’s true, but…”

  “Come on.” Mimi leaned forward on the table. “Let’s order and you can give me the scoop. We’ll even split the check.”

  “Okay, but you have to worship at my feet the whole time,” Tyler said with a laugh.

  When the waiter had taken their orders, Mimi started in. “So what was it like in Amish Land? Totally boring, I’m sure.”

  He gave her a glare. “Not so much. They are much more interesting than you might imagine.”

  “Really?” Mimi wasn’t convinced.

  Tyler saw Bisho
p Mose’s face as he preached that last Sunday and remembered Miriam’s tears.

  Mimi noticed. “Your face betrays you. There must have been a girl.”

  “Um, let’s not go there,” Tyler said. “I haven’t figured out that part of the story yet.” There were places in the last few weeks he had no intentions to revisit with anyone. Having Miriam’s face inches from his as he embraced her in her buggy was one of them. That would have to wait for the book if he had the courage to write it.

  “All right, then. What can you tell me?”

  Tyler managed a smile. “Well, I must say I was surprised by what I found. The original idea was to write a nice public interest piece on how the Amish businesses as well as their private homes were faring some two years after a tornado had been through the area. To begin, I was welcomed into an Amish home the first evening of my arrival and was served a great Amish supper. I got to meet the family, a small one by Amish standards, and the community’s schoolteacher who boards there, a Miriam Yoder.”

  Mimi scribbled notes and looked up expectantly.

  “You may not need that,” Tyler said.

  “Why not let me decide? Continue,” Mimi said.

  “Okay, but scratch the reference to the schoolteacher.”

  Mimi smirked. “Aha. So your famed charm with women reaches all the way into the exclusive community of the Amish. I guess I’m not surprised.”

  “Don’t go there,” he snapped.

  Mimi’s smirk widened. “That’s usually exactly where one should go. You know that, Tyler.”

  “It’s not a big deal.” Tyler gathered his emotions together. “Anyway, I was served supper and got to talk with the man of the house, William Byler. He was friendly and answered a lot of questions. Mr. Byler introduced me the following week to the community’s deacon, in whose basement apartment I ended up staying before all was said and done. I also had a meeting with Mr. Westree, the chairman of the Clarita Relief Fund, who wouldn’t answer my questions to any degree of satisfaction. Working on a whim at first, I pursued my suspicions and soon was sure I had hit pay dirt.”

  “Don’t brag,” Mimi interrupted. “It never sounds good.”

  “Then scratch it, or write the piece so it doesn’t brag. You owe me one anyway.” Tyler gave her a fake glare.

  Mimi chuckled. “I’m a fearless person to be in your debt. So tell me about this schoolteacher, Miriam Yoder.”

  “No, I said we’re not going there.” Tyler’s glare wasn’t fake this time.

  “Hey,” Mimi shrugged, “there are other ways of finding out these things. For that matter, I can go interview her myself.”

  “Okay,” Tyler retorted. “Miriam Yoder is a woman of great character, whose sterling reputation in the community was on everyone’s lips. Wherever she went praises fell before her like rose petals before a queen.”

  “You expect me to write that?” Now Mimi glared. “Cut the corn, Tyler. So perhaps I was wrong. Maybe for once you met a girl who didn’t succumb to your charms. That’s the real problem, isn’t it?”

  Tyler grinned. “I’m going to ignore that and continue with the real story here. After I got closer with my questions, I soon began to receive threats. They started mildly but soon increased in severity. I kept my editor in the loop, but neither of us felt we should back off. Then the two fires happened to some of the principals in my story. Of course, the Amish wouldn’t cooperate, being big on forgiveness and all, and so the rest was up to me and the law enforcement folks, with no more help from the Amish victims.”

  Mimi leaned across the table and whispered, “Yada, yada, yada. That’s the story you already told. I want to hear about the schoolteacher. That’s the untold story. Tell me, and I’ll worship at your feet for days.”

  Tyler got to his feet. “I think we’ll call things even. Thanks for the adoration. My shattered psyche is on the mend.”

  “Hey, our meal hasn’t even arrived yet. That Miriam Yoder must have been something.”

  “That she was,” Tyler said as he left.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Mose was on the road early on Friday morning in Deacon Phillips’s borrowed buggy. He was headed over to help with the day’s construction project at William Byler’s place. All week he had worked where needed. By Thursday most of the barn on Deacon Phillips’s property had been rebuilt. The few odds and ends would be completed today by Deacon Phillips and two other men who had agreed to return for the day. The rest of the community’s men and large crews from the Amish communities scattered around the state planned to erect William Byler’s barn by nightfall.

  The visiting carpenters had stayed over from yesterday and been put up in the area’s homes and barns. Mose had given up the basement apartment at Deacon Phillips’s place so that the women who had accompanied the vans as cooks had a place to sleep. He had joined several men on sleeping bags in Deacon Phillips’s newly built barn loft.

  They had awakened before dawn to a delicious breakfast cooked in Katie’s kitchen and served outdoors until sunup. Mose looked behind him and pulled partly off the road as two vans passed him full of the men in straw hats and a few women in dark shawls. Everyone waved heartily, and Mose stuck his hand out of the buggy to respond. They were all in gut spirits this morning. He was too. The reconstruction had gone well this week, and the weekend was finally close when the bann would be lifted and he would speak with Miriam again.

  All week he had chafed under the restrictions he had placed on their relationship. He should have allowed for a time when he could rebuke and chasten Miriam further. That way he would have cleared the air between them. They would have been ready to move on to other things on Sunday afternoon. He had limited time to spend with Miriam now as he planned to leave for home Monday on the Greyhound.

  Oh, well, it was done. Mose stuck his head out of the buggy again for a long breath of the prairie’s morning air. He had come to like the land out here. No wonder Miriam was so attached. He was surprised she hadn’t made more of a fuss about the need to move with him to Wayne County once they had wed. But that was Miriam’s character. She was self-sacrificing and wished to please her husband-to-be. Where her transgression with Tyler Johnson had come from, he still couldn’t understand. He wanted to get to the bottom of all this, and he should have done so on Saturday evening when he first met with Miriam, but his furor had been too great. No gut thing came out of the wrath of man, Mose reminded himself. Of this he was sure. But Miriam’s acceptance of her discipline had settled his temper. Not all women would have taken a time spent under the bann with so little protest.

  Mose settled in the buggy seat again. Deacon Phillips had opened up to him earlier in the week with details about Tyler Johnson. Nothing he had heard surprised him. The man had sneaked into the community under a false pretense, and Deacon Phillips had fallen for the man’s story. Deacon Phillips had gone so far as to give Tyler a place to stay in his basement apartment. The man’s charms must have been immense. No wonder Miriam had fallen. The thought made him feel better, and yet it still shouldn’t have happened. Women were supposed to be more sensitive about deception and notice it sooner. Why hadn’t Miriam known the truth about Tyler? The question burned through his mind. He had done things in his rumspringa time that he now regretted, but he had never kissed an Englisha girl. He had gone on a date with an Englisha neighbor girl a few times, but that was all the further things had gone. How could Miriam have fallen so low? Miriam had such a gut reputation throughout the community, and her character was above reproach until…

  “Well,” Mose muttered. “We all have our weak points.”

  He would comfort himself with that thought, but it would not do to let Miriam know that he held any understanding for what she had done. There was no danger the Englisha man Tyler would return, but still…

  “Tyler’s left us for gut, I’m afraid,” Deacon Phillips had told him. There had been a twinge of sorrow in the deacon’s voice. Did Miriam feel the same? Would Miriam remember the man’s kiss
es? Likely! But so he remembered Rachel’s kisses and always would. Miriam couldn’t replace the life Rachel and he had lived together. There had been no kinner, but Rachel had spent many an evening close to him on the couch as they read The Budget together. No, he would never forget Rachel. He would have to move past his anger. Miriam would be his married frau soon enough, and they could build their own memories with kinner this time—if the Lord didn’t object. Surely he wouldn’t be left childless by two women?

  Mose pulled back the reins as he approached the Bylers’ place and saw vehicles parked along the road. Who would that be? There were huge vans everywhere with people all along the road. This must be the news media, Mose told himself. The men from the community had spoken together yesterday about what they would do if such a thing happened. They had decided that in no case would there be any cooperation offered or photography equipment allowed on the Amish properties.

  So today their fears had come to pass. The Amish were already in the news in all the local papers in connection with the political corruption case Tyler had uncovered. It was only natural that the media would seek to cover the rebuilding project of the burned out barn. Well, William had kept them out on the road from the looks of things. That was the best any of them could do. The Lord would have to take care of the rest.

  Mose drove with care as he approached. The Byler driveway had large vans parked on either side of it. His buggy would barely fit through.

  “Whoa there,” Mose called to his horse as they came closer. “Take it easy, old boy.”

  Two men ran toward the buggy with fancy equipment held above their heads and long trails of wires strung out behind them. “Whoa there.” Mose spoke louder this time, but his horse threw its head in the air and whinnied loudly.

  Mose gripped the lines as one of the men shouted, “Do you know Miriam Yoder, the Amish schoolteacher?”