twins, Josh and Joey, returned with Tom’s clattering wagon, which was loaded with large tubs of ice cream. Katie Zook had fetched scoops and a tall stack of paper cake plates, so Hiram stopped staring after Ben. He leaned down, closed his eyes, and blew mightily across the candle flames. When every last one of them went out, several of the men roared their approval and clapped.
Why is Hiram doin’ this to me, Lord? And doesn’t Ben realize he’s only makin’ it worse, fannin’ the flames?
She hadn’t seen the end of this episode, for sure and for certain, so Miriam was glad her two girls and Leah stayed close around her while folks ate their cake and then got up to visit. Sunday afternoons were a time for staying in touch with neighbors they didn’t see during the week, and on such a warm October afternoon a lot of them would stay at the Zooks’ place well into the evening.
“Let’s head on home, Mamma,” Rachel suggested quietly. “We can fetch your cake pans tomorrow. I’ve had enough of the bishop’s shenanigans for one day.”
“ Jah , me too.” Rhoda gazed toward the road out front, as though looking for a less obvious way to walk home. Or was she watching for a certain someone?
Miriam sighed. Would that certain someone still want to see her later today?
Chapter 6
You’ve gone and done it now—caused even more problems for Miriam by standin’ up for her! Move on down the road before ya make things worse.
Ben turned in front of Zook’s Market, where he’d parked his farrier wagon. Pharaoh was still tied to a shade tree where he could graze on grass growing along the roadside, but Ben gave his horse no sign they’d be going anywhere soon. He had a lot of praying to do—a lot of frustration to walk off, as well. He’d watched how Hiram behaved yesterday at breakfast, in Miriam’s café; and after the bishop’s disgusting display of power today, it burned him even more that Knepp thought his position should get him anything he wanted.
But Ben was the outsider here. He’d bucked Amish tradition by spending his life mostly on the road . . . had told himself land was too expensive in Pennsylvania and Ohio. And the Indiana towns he’d worked his way through didn’t have the right feel to them—or a woman he could love. Yet now that he’d reached Missouri and Miriam Lantz, he had to face the truth: he was almost thirty-five, with not a lot to show for it. At his age, most men had a wife and a houseful of kids, not to mention a solid place in a community where folks counted on his good work.
It felt like the right thing to do, Lord , Ben prayed. I thought I was followin’ where Ya led me, and yet . . . why would Miriam see my unsettled ways as anythin’ she should rely on? How can I prove I’ve been seekin’ out Your place for me rather than rollin’ along on a string of excuses?
On he walked, his head lowered as he prayed. As Ben strode down a lane farther along, however, he focused on a well-tended apple orchard . . . white, stacked beehives in the background . . . rows of hoed garden where all that remained were pumpkins and some acorn and butternut squash.
Ben blinked and looked around him. Without even noticing, he’d walked past the vacant smithy where he’d found the tarp for Miriam’s window . . . which meant his feet had taken him to her place—and a right pretty spread it was, too, where the trees gloried in their autumn finery and a white two-story house basked in the afternoon sunlight. The windows sparkled. The porch swing swayed in the breeze, inviting him to sit . . . with Miriam.
She’ll have all sorts of questions now. Maybe she won’t trust ya, now that you’ve shot off your mouth to the bishop. A four-year-old would’ve known better!
Ben strolled more slowly, interested in the Lantz place for many reasons. The well-equipped farrier shop tempted him even more now that he saw it in the daylight. And yes, this home with its sense of cleanliness and order
Why is Hiram doin’ this to me, Lord? And doesn’t Ben realize he’s only makin’ it worse, fannin’ the flames?
She hadn’t seen the end of this episode, for sure and for certain, so Miriam was glad her two girls and Leah stayed close around her while folks ate their cake and then got up to visit. Sunday afternoons were a time for staying in touch with neighbors they didn’t see during the week, and on such a warm October afternoon a lot of them would stay at the Zooks’ place well into the evening.
“Let’s head on home, Mamma,” Rachel suggested quietly. “We can fetch your cake pans tomorrow. I’ve had enough of the bishop’s shenanigans for one day.”
“ Jah , me too.” Rhoda gazed toward the road out front, as though looking for a less obvious way to walk home. Or was she watching for a certain someone?
Miriam sighed. Would that certain someone still want to see her later today?
Chapter 6
You’ve gone and done it now—caused even more problems for Miriam by standin’ up for her! Move on down the road before ya make things worse.
Ben turned in front of Zook’s Market, where he’d parked his farrier wagon. Pharaoh was still tied to a shade tree where he could graze on grass growing along the roadside, but Ben gave his horse no sign they’d be going anywhere soon. He had a lot of praying to do—a lot of frustration to walk off, as well. He’d watched how Hiram behaved yesterday at breakfast, in Miriam’s café; and after the bishop’s disgusting display of power today, it burned him even more that Knepp thought his position should get him anything he wanted.
But Ben was the outsider here. He’d bucked Amish tradition by spending his life mostly on the road . . . had told himself land was too expensive in Pennsylvania and Ohio. And the Indiana towns he’d worked his way through didn’t have the right feel to them—or a woman he could love. Yet now that he’d reached Missouri and Miriam Lantz, he had to face the truth: he was almost thirty-five, with not a lot to show for it. At his age, most men had a wife and a houseful of kids, not to mention a solid place in a community where folks counted on his good work.
It felt like the right thing to do, Lord , Ben prayed. I thought I was followin’ where Ya led me, and yet . . . why would Miriam see my unsettled ways as anythin’ she should rely on? How can I prove I’ve been seekin’ out Your place for me rather than rollin’ along on a string of excuses?
On he walked, his head lowered as he prayed. As Ben strode down a lane farther along, however, he focused on a well-tended apple orchard . . . white, stacked beehives in the background . . . rows of hoed garden where all that remained were pumpkins and some acorn and butternut squash.
Ben blinked and looked around him. Without even noticing, he’d walked past the vacant smithy where he’d found the tarp for Miriam’s window . . . which meant his feet had taken him to her place—and a right pretty spread it was, too, where the trees gloried in their autumn finery and a white two-story house basked in the afternoon sunlight. The windows sparkled. The porch swing swayed in the breeze, inviting him to sit . . . with Miriam.
She’ll have all sorts of questions now. Maybe she won’t trust ya, now that you’ve shot off your mouth to the bishop. A four-year-old would’ve known better!
Ben strolled more slowly, interested in the Lantz place for many reasons. The well-equipped farrier shop tempted him even more now that he saw it in the daylight. And yes, this home with its sense of cleanliness and order
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