having such . . . longings. Such needs .”
Oh, but this man irritated her! Wrangling his own desires around to make her appear ungrateful for his attention! There was no other way to handle this but honestly.
Miriam looked him straight in the eye. “I’m sayin’ no , Hiram.” She ducked from under his arms then and started for the house. “You’re not listenin’ to me. What you want and what I want are—”
“Immaterial,” Hiram stated. “I’m following God’s will for my life. And yours.”
“ Jah? Then you’re hearin’ a different voice—marchin’ to a different drummer—than I am!” Miriam walked faster, angling into the orchard to pick a large Jonathan apple in case she had to throw it at him. “My Jesse would never have cornered me, nor called me out in front of the whole town like you did today! I won’t put up with that from you nor anyone else, Bishop Knepp.”
Hiram grabbed her shoulders and turned her around to face him. His cheeks were flushed and he was breathing like an enraged stallion. “I thought we cleared away this obstinate streak—this willfulness—when we were selling your building,” he muttered tersely. “Have you been listening to Ben Hooley, Miriam?”
The apple dropped from her hand. Fear shot through her, along with that urge to fight or flee, neither of which would solve her problem. This whole conversation became thornier when Hiram brought up the man everyone was speculating about, because all of Willow Ridge now knew how Ben had repaired her window after she’d taken him in during the storm.
Were Rachel and Rhoda watching from the house? Would they come outside if they saw she was losing ground to Hiram Knepp?
The bishop took advantage of her hesitation to drive his point home. He leaned down, so close she could see her reflection in his large, black pupils. “Are you falling for an unbaptized man who makes himself out to be one of us, Miriam?” he demanded in a coiled voice. “The way I hear it, things between you and Hooley flared like wildfire—while you were alone in that bakery at an ungodly hour.”
Miriam almost retorted that since God created all the hours of the day and night, surely none could be ungodly. But she remained silent. He was digging a conversational pit so she’d slip into it, because if Ben Hooley hadn’t been baptized into the faith, she had compromised her own status in the church.
“Do you really think he can make you happy, Miriam?” Hiram continued with a sneer. “Would you throw away your salvation—be shunned by your family and friends—for a faithless man destined for hell? Jesus tells us to let the dead bury their dead, and that ‘no man, having put his hand to the plough, and looking back, is fit for the Kingdom of God.’”
Hiram reached for her shoulders again but stopped short of touching her. “You’ve set your sights forward, Miriam,” he whispered. “You’ve buried your dead and you’re moving toward the Kingdom. Don’t let a total stranger get you off course.”
She swallowed hard, wishing a good biblical reply would fly off her tongue.
“And it’s just a few verses earlier in the book of Luke where Jesus says ‘foxes have holes and birds of the air have nests, but the Son of man has no place to lay his head.’”
Miriam jumped at the sound of another voice, yet the sight of Ben Hooley standing beside an apple tree in the next row sent a surge of relief through her. She didn’t even care how he’d gotten there, or what he’d heard. Hiram stepped aside and his focus shifted away from her—and away from a conversation that could have no good ending.
“Don’t you dare compare yourself to the Son of man, Hooley!” the bishop snapped. “Adding sacrilege to the wrongs you’ve already done—”
“I would never pretend to be at Jesus’s level, Hiram. But my passage lends itself to this situation every bit as much as yours does.” Ben’s voice remained low, but his face was tight with
Oh, but this man irritated her! Wrangling his own desires around to make her appear ungrateful for his attention! There was no other way to handle this but honestly.
Miriam looked him straight in the eye. “I’m sayin’ no , Hiram.” She ducked from under his arms then and started for the house. “You’re not listenin’ to me. What you want and what I want are—”
“Immaterial,” Hiram stated. “I’m following God’s will for my life. And yours.”
“ Jah? Then you’re hearin’ a different voice—marchin’ to a different drummer—than I am!” Miriam walked faster, angling into the orchard to pick a large Jonathan apple in case she had to throw it at him. “My Jesse would never have cornered me, nor called me out in front of the whole town like you did today! I won’t put up with that from you nor anyone else, Bishop Knepp.”
Hiram grabbed her shoulders and turned her around to face him. His cheeks were flushed and he was breathing like an enraged stallion. “I thought we cleared away this obstinate streak—this willfulness—when we were selling your building,” he muttered tersely. “Have you been listening to Ben Hooley, Miriam?”
The apple dropped from her hand. Fear shot through her, along with that urge to fight or flee, neither of which would solve her problem. This whole conversation became thornier when Hiram brought up the man everyone was speculating about, because all of Willow Ridge now knew how Ben had repaired her window after she’d taken him in during the storm.
Were Rachel and Rhoda watching from the house? Would they come outside if they saw she was losing ground to Hiram Knepp?
The bishop took advantage of her hesitation to drive his point home. He leaned down, so close she could see her reflection in his large, black pupils. “Are you falling for an unbaptized man who makes himself out to be one of us, Miriam?” he demanded in a coiled voice. “The way I hear it, things between you and Hooley flared like wildfire—while you were alone in that bakery at an ungodly hour.”
Miriam almost retorted that since God created all the hours of the day and night, surely none could be ungodly. But she remained silent. He was digging a conversational pit so she’d slip into it, because if Ben Hooley hadn’t been baptized into the faith, she had compromised her own status in the church.
“Do you really think he can make you happy, Miriam?” Hiram continued with a sneer. “Would you throw away your salvation—be shunned by your family and friends—for a faithless man destined for hell? Jesus tells us to let the dead bury their dead, and that ‘no man, having put his hand to the plough, and looking back, is fit for the Kingdom of God.’”
Hiram reached for her shoulders again but stopped short of touching her. “You’ve set your sights forward, Miriam,” he whispered. “You’ve buried your dead and you’re moving toward the Kingdom. Don’t let a total stranger get you off course.”
She swallowed hard, wishing a good biblical reply would fly off her tongue.
“And it’s just a few verses earlier in the book of Luke where Jesus says ‘foxes have holes and birds of the air have nests, but the Son of man has no place to lay his head.’”
Miriam jumped at the sound of another voice, yet the sight of Ben Hooley standing beside an apple tree in the next row sent a surge of relief through her. She didn’t even care how he’d gotten there, or what he’d heard. Hiram stepped aside and his focus shifted away from her—and away from a conversation that could have no good ending.
“Don’t you dare compare yourself to the Son of man, Hooley!” the bishop snapped. “Adding sacrilege to the wrongs you’ve already done—”
“I would never pretend to be at Jesus’s level, Hiram. But my passage lends itself to this situation every bit as much as yours does.” Ben’s voice remained low, but his face was tight with
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