A Promise for Miriam (29 page)

“I have some licorice root mixed up. It will sooth your throat. Let me fetch you a cup of tea with it—”

“
Mamm
, I don’t need the licorice root. Where did you even find it this time of year?”

“She dries her medicinal herbs now,” Joshua said. “You should listen to your
mamm
. Even Doc Hanson admits to their effectiveness.”

“Have you been pouring it down my throat as I sleep?” Miriam’s hand went around her neck as if she could protect herself. “I have the most awful taste in my mouth.”

“Probably because you haven’t brushed your teeth since Monday.”

“I’ll take care of that now.” She threw back the covers, causing Pepper to whimper.

“Joshua, I’ll thank you to take that dog outside while I make Miriam’s tea. Then I believe dinner will be ready.”

“Yes, dear.” Joshua stood, called the dog to him, and walked back out of the house, pulling on his coat as he did.

“Miriam, there’s a chamber pot set up for you in the mudroom.”

“I don’t need a chamber pot!” Heat flooded her cheeks as she shook the blankets away and reached for her robe.

“I hope you’re not thinking of going outside.” Abigail shook her head. “Walking in the cold air is the worst thing you can do. You need to be careful, or you’ll miss another week of school.”

“
Mamm
, cold air doesn’t make you sick. It’s viruses that do that.” Coughing, she reached for the back of the couch.

“If you know better than I do, all right, then. But if you change your mind, the chamber pot is in the mudroom on your way out. I know the students miss you and will be happy to have you back, but you do what you think is best.”

Miriam hobbled to the back door, intent on ignoring her mother’s words. Most of the time Abigail could be so reasonable, but in other ways—such as with the herbs and the idea that cold air would make you sick—there was no use arguing with her. Moving slowly through the mudroom, Miriam snagged her scarf from the peg by the door and then stepped out into the January afternoon.

Her dad and Pepper were already on their way toward the barn door, Pepper jumping and barking at a bird, her dad pausing to watch a deer lope across the southern pasture.

The first breath of fresh air was joy—the second a little less so.

She didn’t remember the outhouse being quite so far from the house before. Shuffling through the last remnants of Christmas snow, she took care of her business and then hurried back inside.

By the time she was once again settled on the couch, she gladly accepted the licorice tea—not because of its healing powers but because it was warm.

She never did learn what they were to have for dinner. She heard Joshua in the mudroom, hanging up his coat and talking to her mother, but her eyes were too heavy to keep open. Curling back down into the bed her mother had made for her, Miriam slipped back into a deep, restful sleep.

Chapter 35

I
t had been the longest week of the school year for Grace, longer even than the week before Christmas.

She was worried about Miriam. Esther told her not to worry. Eli, Sadie’s dad, told her not to worry.

Even her dad told her not to worry. He told her to pray for Miriam every night, and she did, but she still had a rock in her stomach. She couldn’t stop thinking something terrible might be wrong, like when her
mamm
had been sick. She didn’t say that out loud to anyone, but she thought about it almost all the time.

She thought about it when she did her lessons, and when she did her chores, and even when she played with Stormy. It seemed as though she couldn’t stop thinking about it.

One night she thought about it so hard she started crying, like a baby. She tried to be quiet and cover her head with a pillow, but her dad must have heard. He was old, but he was still able to hear well.

“What’s wrong in here?” he asked, sitting down on the edge of her bed.

“Miriam still wasn’t at school today.” She rubbed at her cheeks and tried to make the tears go away, but they kept running out of her eyes.

“Eli said she’s better.”

Grace nodded. He’d told her that too, but she wasn’t sure she could believe him. Maybe he was just saying that, the same way everyone had told her things would be okay with her mother—only they weren’t okay.

“Still worried?”

“
Ya
.” It came out all shaky and wobbly, like “yaahah,” as she rubbed the back of her hand across her nose.

“Can I show you something?” Her dad had brought a lantern into her room, and now he stood up and turned the light up brighter. When she nodded, he walked to her dresser and picked up her Bible.

He sat down on her bed again and started fumbling through it. First he went forward, and then he went back, and then forward again. “Sometimes I have trouble finding a place,” he admitted, smiling at her.

Finally he stopped in the book of Matthew and found chapter 10. Running his finger down the page, he came to the twenty-ninth verse. Grace sat up straighter, so she could follow along as he read aloud. The words were a little blurry because she was still crying some, but she rubbed her eyes again and tried to focus on the print.

“Are not two sparrows sold for a penny?”

She loved listening to her dad’s voice—it was deep and rumbly and warm.

“Yet not one of them will fall to the ground outside your Father’s care. And even the very hairs of your head,” he paused, patted the top of her head with his hand. “And even the very hairs of your head are all numbered. So don’t be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows.”

“Are we the sparrows?”

“I suppose so. In this case, yes.”

Grace wanted to ask about her mother. Had she fallen to the ground? Had
Gotte
cared? But instead of asking, she put her hand in her dad’s. She liked how it felt there. She liked how big and strong his hand felt around hers.

“I know you’re worried about Miriam, Grace.” He pulled in a deep breath. “Maybe you’re also thinking about your
mamm
. How she was sick and how she didn’t get better. I wish I could explain that to you, but I can’t. What I can tell you, what I can promise you, is that this isn’t like that. Miriam only has the flu, and she already is better. In fact, we’re going to see her tomorrow and—”

Before he could finish, Grace had climbed into his lap and thrown her arms around his neck.

She couldn’t figure out how he’d known what she was afraid about, how he’d known she was thinking about her mother. After he hugged her back and then settled her down again under her warm quilt, she fell asleep wondering if her dad was the smartest man in the world.

As she sat in class the next day, watching the morning substitute, she still couldn’t puzzle it out. Dads were funny that way. Sometimes you were sure they had no idea at all what was going on, like when you simply could not eat oatmeal one more time. Then other times they seemed a step ahead of you, like last night.

And the Bible verse he’d read, well, she’d written down that verse on a slip of paper as soon as she’d popped out of bed this morning. She’d carried it around in her pocket and sneaked a peek at it whenever she could, and now she had it memorized. It eased her worries when they tried to creep back inside.

Finally, Esther rang the bell that said they could put their things up for lunch.

Luke’s mother, who had been substituting for Miriam all morning, gave Luke and Adam a severe look and they sulked off to the outhouse.

“They certainly act different when their
mamm
is here,” Sadie said.

“
Ya
. They haven’t thrown a wad of paper all morning. Could be they have the flu too.”

“Or could be they’re afraid of being punished.” Sadie followed her outside. “How many different teachers does that make?”

“With your
dat
this afternoon, Grace, that will be eight.” Hannah lined them up in the cold wind to use the outhouse.

“Your
dat
’s coming?” Sadie turned to smile at her friend.

“
Ya
. Bet the boys won’t be throwing paper wads this afternoon, either.”

They didn’t, but they weren’t quite as serious as they had been all morning. It had been a hard week with Miriam gone. Esther had done a good job, but Grace figured minding thirty-eight children couldn’t be easy. Two had gone home sick, but that still left thirty-six.

The substitute teachers each looked fine when they walked in, and a bit overwhelmed when they left—usually in something of a hurry. Miriam and Esther always made it appear easy, but perhaps there was more to teaching than Grace had figured. So far they’d had two other dads who each substituted for one afternoon. The other mornings and afternoons had been filled in by three moms, including Luke’s, and two grandmothers. The grandmothers seemed to fare best.

She’d figured out the tally of teachers with Sadie and Lily while they ate their lunches. What a crazy week!

As she watched her dad walk in and take a seat at the front of the room, she did her best not to giggle, but it was hard. He looked too large for the chair, and the book he picked up to read to them seemed small in his hands.

“Esther tells me you have story time after lunch, so I’m supposed to read where you left off here.” Grace had seen him reading the book the night before, so he must have been studying. That idea made her smile. He pulled the marker from the book, but dropped it on the floor. When he bent to pick it up, he nearly toppled out of the chair. The entire class burst into laughter, including Gabe.

“It’s hard to believe I was once very coordinated, even somewhat talented on a baseball field, isn’t it? As you grow older, the chairs grow smaller.” The laughter died down, and he studied the front of the book.
“Little House on the Praire
by Laura Ingalls Wilder. I’m sure you all know that Mrs. Wilder was born not too far from here, and maybe a few of you have been to Kansas, where this story takes place, or some of your family have.”

One of the older boys in the back raised his hand.

Everyone, Grace included, turned to look at the boy and then back at Gabe. “I’d be interested to speak with you about that, maybe at our break this afternoon. I’ve been there myself, though I only passed through the area and wasn’t able to stop. It looks different now than how it’s described in these pages, but I can imagine what Laura, Pa, Ma, and Mary saw.”

“And baby Carrie,” Sadie said.

“Yes, and baby Carrie.” Gabe smiled at her before glancing down at the book in his hands. “It seems you’ve read the part where they moved into the Indian Territory near Independence.”

“Pa traded the horses for mustangs,” Adam said. “I’ve never seen a mustang.”

Gabe glanced over at Esther. “Maybe we could find a picture of one.”

“
Gut
idea,” she said.

“What was the name of those horses?” He searched through the pages the way he’d done with the Bible the night before.

“Pet and Patty,” several of the younger students called out.

“Now I remember.” Her dad smiled at them and then leaned back in the chair, his legs stretched out in front of him. “We’re at the part where Mr. Edwards is helping Pa to build their house…”

The reading time passed so quickly that there were groans when Esther rang her bell, indicating it was time for afternoon lessons. Gabe did almost as well with the lessons as he did with the reading and only needed help with the geography once, but the health lessons had everyone laughing again. As he was correcting Lily’s history worksheet by looking at the teacher’s book, he’d thrown up his hands and admitted, “I’ve completely forgotten these things, and I bet you thought I was so old I lived during this time!”

When it came time to put up their books and clean the schoolroom, he actually looked relieved. Grace heard him confess to the older boys, “Cleaning I know how to do.”

She loved school, and most Fridays she was sorry to see the week end, but when they walked out the schoolhouse door and headed to Miriam’s buggy, Grace almost shouted with glee.

“
Gut
thing Eli gave me a ride in at lunch, or you would have had to drive Miriam’s buggy,
ya
?”