A Promise for Miriam (18 page)

If he was honest with himself, he’d been avoiding town and the possibility of running into people. But now that he knew so many members of the district, and so many good-hearted men had been working on his barn, he found himself actually looking forward to stopping in at the general store for a little conversation.

Miriam would also work with Grace while she closed up the school on Fridays, and then she would drive her home.

Two afternoons a week working with Miriam.

Every morning and evening working with Gabe.

That sounded like a good plan. Only Gabe wasn’t holding up his end of the bargain.

On Friday morning, he called to Grace one more time. The cinnamon rolls Miriam’s mother had sent over the day before were piping hot, and he’d poured fresh milk into her cup, but still no Grace. Where was she?

“Grace Ann, get in here or you’ll be late for school.”

He ate a roll while he waited, standing up, his work boot tapping out an impatient rhythm. When he finally heard her dragging her small book bag across the sitting room floor, he looked at the clock and saw it was time to leave. Wrapping her breakfast in a dish towel, he thrust the cup into her hands.

“Drink this. Quick.”

She did as she was told, her big brown eyes staring into his. She did not offer any explanation for her tardiness.

“Why are you so slow this week?” He grabbed her coat from the mudroom and helped her into it. “The rain’s stopped at least.”

Bright sunshine filtered through the cold morning air as they walked down the muddy lane.

“We’re supposed to be doing these exercises. Last night you fell asleep practically facedown in your soup. Yesterday you slept in same as today. Do you feel like you’re coming down with a cold?” He reached out to feel her forehead, but she ducked away and shook her head no.

“Listen to me, Grace. That doc—he knew what he was talking about, but we have to do our share. Now let’s practice…” He fumbled in his coat for the sheet of paper and had barely unfolded it when Grace tugged on his arm and pointed toward the end of the lane.

Eli was bringing his buggy to a stop.

Hugging her dad briefly, she took off running toward the buggy, where Eli’s children were waving.

Gabe was left standing in the middle of the lane holding the sheet of paper.

As the buggy pulled away, he waved at Eli and hoped that when Miriam showed up this afternoon she wouldn’t quiz them on how much progress they’d made.

He’d yet to hear Grace utter a single sound, much less a word. It had been more than thirty-six hours since they met with Doc Hanson. The man’s cautionary advice to be patient echoed in his mind as he walked toward the endless work that needed to be done in the fields and the barn.

He supposed it was possible that Grace had been unusually tired this week. There was also the possibility she was avoiding him. Tonight he would speak with Miriam and compare notes. One thing he was sure of—his daughter wouldn’t be able to avoid the teacher’s attempts at the exercises on the ride home this afternoon.

That thought cheered him up, and he found himself whistling as he began mucking out the stalls in the barn.

Gabe didn’t exactly clean up for the teacher’s arrival later that afternoon. A man had to wash up and change into fresh clothes some time, and he just so happened to finish working a few minutes earlier than normal. As he sat on the front porch steps and watched Miriam guide her buggy toward his house, it occurred to him that she would make someone a fine wife.

Why had she never married? Why was she still teaching? Why was he thinking about these things? They were none of his concern, though he did appreciate the extra time she was taking with Grace. No doubt she was as tired from her workweek as he was from his.

She didn’t look tired as she waved at him from the buggy.

In fact, she looked rather fresh and perky.

Grace on the other hand, looked done in. Her cheeks were red, and she seemed somewhat exhausted.

Gabe walked forward and reached for the harness of the mare. “Whoa, Belle.”

“Gabe.” Miriam smiled and handed him a plate of cookies. The women in this district were going to cause him to gain ten pounds before spring.

Grace hopped out of the buggy and ran inside the house, not even throwing a glance his way.

“What’s with her?”

“I believe she’s tired and maybe a little embarrassed. We worked fairly hard on the way home from school.” She smiled and added, “I may have driven slowly to give us more time.”

“Huh. I haven’t managed to coax a single sound out of her.”

“You don’t say.” Miriam cocked her head, much like that hunting dog she set so much store in—the dog that had saved Grace’s life. He wouldn’t be forgetting that. He needed to save the mutt a meat bone next time he cooked up something decent.

“I put some hot water on to boil. Would you have time to come in for a few minutes? I know it’ll be dark soon, but I’d like to talk to you…about Grace, if you have time.”

“Certainly I do.”

She set aside the blanket that had been across her lap, accepted his help out of the buggy, and walked beside him up the steps. He offered to shelter her mare, but she shook her head. “I can’t stay as long as that. My parents will be expecting me for dinner.”

Disappointment surged up inside of him, but he tamped it down. What had he thought she would do? Stay and prepare a meal for them as she had that first evening?

“Surely one cookie won’t ruin your appetite.”

“One cookie and some
kaffi
I can handle.”

Gabe expected to see Grace in the kitchen, but it was empty. Her coat wasn’t on the hook in the mudroom, but her lunch box was on the counter. His daughter, however, was nowhere to be seen.

“I wonder where she got off to,” he mumbled as he added
kaffi
to the water and set it toward the hot part of the stove.

He turned back toward Miriam as she removed her coat and outer bonnet. Perhaps that was the first time he saw her as a woman, the first time he didn’t see her as only the teacher or, more pointedly, as a possible threat. Now it was difficult to remember why he’d ever felt that way.

The last of the day’s light was coming through his kitchen window—a window he’d scrubbed clean when he’d first moved into the farmhouse. The week’s rain had splattered it again with mud and dirt, but not enough to block the light. Not enough to detract from what he was staring at.

Some of her black hair had escaped from her white
kapp
, curling and dancing down the side of her face. Her cheeks were flushed from the cold and her eyes—soft, kind, gray eyes—were framed by dark brows. A nose with a bit of an upturn and somewhat high cheekbones rounded out the picture.

Miriam King was truly a beautiful woman. He found himself wondering again why she’d never married.

Did she not realize what a relationship between a man and a woman could offer? And he didn’t mean just the wedding bed. He meant the companionship, the laughter, the sharing of burdens, the quiet togetherness that one looked forward to at the beginning and end of each day. Marriage was a gift from
Gotte
, a blessing to both man and woman.

She looked up at him suddenly and the idea crossed his mind that perhaps she could read his thoughts, but that was silly—a child’s worry.

He turned, pulled two mugs from the cabinet, and carried them to the table along with the plate of cookies, which he could tell now were ginger—one of his favorites.

Walking out into the mudroom, where they kept the smaller icebox with the cold items they used daily, he pulled out a little pitcher of cream. “I believe this is still good. Do you need sugar?”

“No. Cream only is fine.
Danki
.”

Gabe couldn’t think of anything else that needed doing, so he drew in a deep breath and forced himself to sit beside her. They hadn’t been alone before, except the time he’d confronted her about the kitten. Actually, his words had been about her ideas regarding Grace, but it had begun with the kitten Grace wanted.

He felt awkward now, even though Grace was in the house. He didn’t know what to do with his hands, so he picked up the empty mug and turned it round and round, staring down into it as if he might find answers there or at least a way to begin the conversation.

“Tell me how she’s been since seeing Doc.” Miriam’s voice was quiet, without any judgment, and perhaps that’s why he was able to spill his worries.

“I thought she was fine. She seemed all right while he was examining her. Didn’t you think?”

“Yes.”

“I was relieved when he didn’t find anything wrong.” Gabe looked up when there was a light tap on the window. Grace waved and then dashed off across the yard. She must have dropped off her lunch box and then run outside again through the back door. “The little imp. I can call her in—”

“Or you could let her play. She’s been inside most of the day.”

Gabe nodded, stood, and fetched their
kaffi
. “So I thought everything was fine when we left the school Wednesday afternoon. Except that we haven’t done the exercises a single time. She either falls asleep at dinner or is late in the morning, which is not like her at all. Usually she’s waiting on me.”

“Could be she’s avoiding you.” Miriam reached for a cookie, broke off a corner, and popped it into her mouth.

“Why would she do that?”

“I don’t know, so I won’t guess. We can ask her later.”

“Ask her? Has she spoken to you?” Gabe had raised his mug to drink from it, but he nearly dropped it at the idea that Grace had talked to her teacher.

Miriam reached out to pat his hand resting on the table.

“Patience. Remember?”

“She hasn’t spoken?”

“We’ve done the exercises three times—”

“But I thought—”

“Yes, I know. That wasn’t the schedule, but it seems Grace has her own ideas about when and where she wants to do things. The first night I was here I believe you implied she’s a bit stubborn.”

“
Ya
, that she is.”

Miriam pushed the plate of cookies toward him. “My cooking is
gut
, Gabe. You should try one.”

“Oh. Right.” He ate one of the cookies in a single bite, the taste of molasses and ginger and cinnamon filling his mouth. Suddenly he was overcome with memories of home, fall, and his mother’s cooking.

“Is something wrong with the cookies?”

“Hmm?”

“I was wondering if something was wrong with the cookies. You seemed to disappear on me for a minute.”

“No. They’re
gut
. You were right about your cooking.” Gabe ate another, and tried to move the conversation back on track. “I can’t figure why Grace would work on the exercises with you and not with me.”

Miriam took another sip of her
kaffi
and broke off another corner of the cookie. Why did women eat cookies that way? They weren’t that big. Gabe stuck another whole one into his mouth and stared out the window.

“I think I have an idea.” Miriam stood and walked through the mudroom as Grace climbed on the fence across from them. Sticking her head outside the door she called out, “Grace, could you come inside for a minute?”

When she walked back in the kitchen, her cheeks were rosy from the cold. “Let’s see if we can show her we’re working together on this.”

She sat back down, and though her eyes were twinkling, Gabe knew in that moment that Grace didn’t stand a chance. He might be busy and distracted and tired trying to pull together a run-down farm and raise a child alone, but Miriam King?

Miriam King had her mind set on teaching Grace to speak.

Chapter 22

M
iriam had worked with a lot of parents the last ten years, ever since her first year as a teaching assistant. She’d even worked with a few widowers. She had never had any difficulty maintaining a professional distance, keeping her emotions out of the equation, and remembering she was the teacher in the room.

Watching Gabe Miller practically swallow her cookies whole and seeing his tension melt away as he relaxed and forgot to worry about Grace for a moment, she’d felt her professional lines blur. Who could sit in this kitchen and remain distant? Especially after the last two times she’d been here—first cooking dinner for them and then the horrible night they had all worried Grace might be lost for good.

She shook the memory away as the little girl stomped the mud off of her shoes and walked hesitantly into the kitchen.

“Cookie?” Miriam asked.

Grace glanced warily from her father to her teacher and back again. In the end the cookie won. She pulled out a chair across from her dad, accepted the cookie, and took a tentative bite.

“Have some apple cider with it,” Gabe said, pouring her a glass. “It’ll help clear your throat.”

Grace’s eyes widened, but she continued nibbling around the edges of the cookie, reminding Miriam of the little mouse she’d brought to school.

“Grace, I need to get home to Pepper before it grows too dark outside. You remember Pepper, don’t you?”

Grace nodded, and a smile erased the worry from her face.