A Promise for Miriam (32 page)

“That’s right. And she wanted you to start each year—”

“With my heart full of her love.” Grace wasn’t sure if it was love she was feeling right at that moment. It sort of felt as though something else was twisting inside of her.

Gabe reached for the letter. His fingers traced the handwriting on the front of the envelope, and then he handed it to her. “Your
mamm
didn’t realize how sick she was, or maybe we didn’t want to admit it. She thought she had more time. This is the last letter.”

He cleared his throat, but Grace didn’t look up. She didn’t want to know if he had tears in his eyes, because then she’d be crying and they would both be a puddling mess. “Do you want to be alone while you read it?”

“No,
dat
.” Grace scooted her chair closer. “She loved both of us. I’m sure she wanted us to read it together.”

She carefully tore the seal on the envelope and pulled out the single sheet. Did she smell her mother when she opened the letter? Certainly she recognized the handwriting, even though she had to keep blinking back tears. She would recognize her
mamm
’s handwriting if she lived to be one hundred.

Dearest Gracie,

Another new year and you are eight years old now.

What a lovely girl you must be. It’s not possible for me to put on this single sheet of paper how proud I am of you.

You are the best thing Gotte has ever given to me.

I pray for you always, my dearest Grace.

Never doubt my love for you—it is strong like your dat’s love for you, like Gotte’s love for us.

Laughter, love, mercy, and grace—these are all gut things He has given us, Grace. I pray this year and all your years are filled with them.

With many hugs and kisses,

your mamm

Grace folded the sheet of paper, placed it carefully back into the envelope, and then she crawled into her
dat
’s lap.

Chapter 39

G
abe was more surprised than anyone when his name was mentioned in the vote on Sunday. He’d been well schooled in
gelassenheit
, so he didn’t ask for it to be removed. To do so would have drawn attention to himself.

As he drove toward the meeting on Wednesday evening, it occurred to him that possibly Joshua or one of Miriam’s brothers had mentioned that he had experience with situations similar to Amish Abbey while living in Indiana.

He was uncomfortable in a leadership role. He had been in his old life and would be here. That wasn’t the point, though, as his parents had often reminded him. When he was baptized thirteen years ago, he’d promised to serve as a leader if ever elected to do so. At the time he’d envisioned that being as a bishop, minister, or deacon, and he hoped it would never happen. He truly didn’t believe it would happen. He had enough trouble stumbling his way through each day, and God was his witness to that.

His father was fond of saying that many a man with the very same thought had been called to serve.

Gabe had only shaken his head and said, “
Ya, dat
. Let’s agree
Gotte
knows what He’s doing and leave it at that.” The drawing of lots had happened twice in his old district, twice since he’d been baptized and married. The first time he was only twenty and his name wasn’t mentioned. The second time he was in the midst of Hope’s illness. Though his name had been whispered to the bishop by two members, he’d counted it a blessing that three votes were required to be included in the lot.

Pulling up in front of Bishop Beiler’s home, he was grateful that this time he was only serving on a committee and not for life. The responsibility was still great but not overbearing. Maybe his dad had been right. Maybe God knew what was best.

Eli pulled up in his buggy as Gabe was securing his horse.

“
Gut
to see you, Gabe.”

“
Ya
, it’s been a long time.”

“At least two hours.” The older man slapped him on the back as they walked toward the bishop’s front door.

Gabe hadn’t been to Beiler’s house yet, but he was impressed by it. Unlike Schmucker’s, it was modest. Unlike his, it wasn’t falling to pieces. Instead, it was well kept but unassuming, with acreage bordering on two sides. Woods shouldered up to the back of his property, but he could tell by the power lines that an
Englischer
was his neighbor in that direction.

“Beiler doesn’t have much land?”

“No. He had to sell it off to pay taxes. He’s doing better since he opened the buggy shop attached to the west side. He taught young Aden the trade. Now Beiler’s sons tend to the fields, and he tends to the buggy work.”

Gabe processed that as they climbed the two steps of the modest house.

“Where’s Grace?” Eli asked.

“I took her to Abigail’s. I believe she’s learning to make apple pie tonight.”

“Sounds like you’re going to win out there.”

“
Ya
. I think so too. I don’t know what I’d do without Abigail and Joshua.” The words were barely out of his mouth when they again heard the sounds of a horse and buggy. Miriam pulled up in front of the house, followed by Samuel Gingerich, one of the school board members.

Gabe hadn’t had a lot of interaction with Samuel. He’d spoken with him a few times at church meetings—never at length. The man seemed to be sour, and his sentences tended to be short and declarative or long and heavy on Scripture. Gabe could read Scripture as well as the next person, so he didn’t feel the need to have it recited to him. The short and declarative statements always left him feeling restless and that he should go and chop some wood.

Still, Samuel was one of the four elected, probably because he’d been on the school board so long. Miriam was also there to represent the school. Eli was there to stand for the community as a whole, and Gabe was there—well, he supposed he was there because he could offer an outside view.

Jacob Beiler opened the door and invited them all in, though there was no smile on his face. At least he didn’t treat one man, or woman, different than another. He simply took life very seriously. It hadn’t occurred to Gabe until he’d walked into the house that perhaps he had cause to do so. There was nothing there to indicate a woman’s touch.

No shawl hung by the door. No sewing basket in the corner. No smell of fresh baked bread.

Was their bishop a widower like himself? Searching his memory, Gabe tried to remember if he’d met Beiler’s wife. There were many woman and children at church meetings, and Gabe still hadn’t sorted out who everyone was.

Why hadn’t he thought to ask?

“
Danki
for coming,” Beiler said. “I know you all are tired after a hard day’s work, so we’ll keep this brief.”

No refreshments were offered, but at least he suggested they sit down at the table. For a moment Gabe had the idea they would be forced to speak standing near the front door.

“I asked you here because you will be representing our district to the
Englisch
in the matter of the hotel renovation. I spoke with the bishop of the western Pebble Creek district. For now they prefer to allow you four to represent both districts. I don’t need to tell you it is not our policy to interfere, and we will not interfere in this matter. It is one thing to state our concerns. That is enough. That is more than enough.”

Having expressed his opinion, he sat back and waited. Because Gabe had no idea what he was waiting for, he glanced across the table at Miriam, who looked to Eli, who scratched his beard and stared at the ceiling.

Samuel broke the silence. “I will speak plainly, Jacob. Myself, I would not have voted to form a group or to meet with the village board.”

“But he’s going to use the school. We’ll become a stop on their tourist—”

“I heard your arguments on Sunday, Miriam.” Samuel hushed her with a glare. “I was saying I would not have voted to form this group, but since we did…” He paused to study each person at the table. “Since we are going to meet with the village board, I consider it my responsibility to be sure we do
not
intervene. To be sure that
we do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of our minds. Then we will be able to test and approve what God’s will is–His good, pleasing, and perfect will
.”

Samuel’s voice rose as he quoted the passage from Romans.

Gabe stared down at his hands, sure that if he glanced at Miriam he’d find her eyes laughing.

Jacob finally cleared his throat. “
Danki
, Samuel, for focusing us on the Scripture. I was going to suggest that someone make a short list.”

“I would be happy to do that,” Eli said. There was a small notepad and pen in the middle of the table, and Eli pulled them toward him.

“
Gut
. As Miriam pointed out, our members’ main concern is the children. Although we will not be rude to visitors, we’d rather the school not be a regular stop on any guided tours. Their education is important, and it’s best if that is not interrupted.”

Samuel grunted as Eli made notes.

When he’d finished writing, Eli turned the pad where Miriam could read it. “Are you satisfied with the way that’s worded, Miriam?”

“
Ya
. The children are my main concern.”

“It will help to have you there,” Jacob said. “In addition, I believe that because the village president is a woman, perhaps she will respond more favorably to you.”

Gabe noticed Miriam didn’t react to this, but she did meet his gaze, a smile tugging at her lips.

“The second concern among our members is about the name.” Gabe noticed that Beiler, who had rarely shown any emotion, actually had a tic above his left eye. “If there is a way you can gently point out we have no affiliation to the Catholic church, that would be
gut
.”

“Okay. No school tours, and we don’t meet in an abbey for church.” Eli was the only one having any fun at this meeting, but then Gabe had never known the man when he didn’t see the humor in a situation.

Beiler’s left eye twitched again. “The rest of the concerns expressed on Sunday can be summed up into one other category, I think.”

He pulled out the sheet of paper which David, Miriam’s brother, had given to Joshua—and Joshua had given to the bishop. The paper bore the marks of having been folded again and again. More than that, it had been passed from hand to hand until in places the letters were worn nearly off the sheet.

Gabe didn’t doubt for a second that every person attending church three days ago had seen the marketing poster for the new facility, the one Jacob stared at now. The words “Amish Abbey” were typed in large letters across the top, and in the bottom right-hand corner was the contact information—funded by the CEO of Chester Entertainment, Mr. Byron Drake.

“This is no concern of ours,” Jacob said slowly. “What the
Englischers
choose to do within their own business, inside their own building, is not our…”

Beiler’s mistake was in searching for a word to express the degree to which they needed to remain separate from Chester Entertainment’s doings.

While he ran his finger over the spot above his left eye, attempting to locate the phrase that would convince them of the gravity of this point, Eli doodled on his pad, Gabe and Miriam once again exchanged pointed glances, and Samuel saw his chance to jump in.

“It is not our place to be
yoked together with unbelievers. For what do righteousness and wickedness have in common? Or what fellowship can light have with darkness?”

Gabe had to cover his mouth to keep from chuckling. No doubt Samuel meant well, but he sounded like a cantankerous old bull. Who was he to remind Jacob Beiler of the Scripture? No doubt the bishop quoted that very verse to the congregation several times each year. And how did such a grumpy old guy father the sweet little girl he saw playing with Grace and Sadie each Sunday?

Gabe decided to stare at Eli’s writing, which was when he saw that he’d drawn lightning bolts in the margin of his notes.

Fortunately, Miriam started coughing, and that seemed to bring them all to their senses. “Excuse me. I believe I need a glass of water.”

She stood and helped herself in the kitchen.

“Well,” Jacob said. “My point was that some of these suggestions, as they relate to us, may be in poor taste.” He pushed the paper to the middle of the table.

“Amish Acoustics, Amish Afghans,” Gabe said, running his finger down the poster.

“What do you suppose an afghan is?” Miriam asked from the kitchen.

“I believe it’s a blanket, like what you knit or crochet.” Eli turned his page over to a fresh sheet.

“Then why not call it an Amish blanket?” Gabe asked.

“Apparently Mr. Drake is fond of alliteration.” Miriam returned to the table with her glass of water.

When they all stared at her, she cocked her head to the side in disapproval. “Apparently English wasn’t your favorite subject. Alliteration, as in—”

“Soon the sun’s warmth makes them shed crystal shells, shattering and avalanching on the snow crust.” Jacob’s expression hadn’t changed at all, but his eyes had softened, and Gabe saw him for a moment as he must have been.

Before what? Before life had rubbed off the soft edges. Before he’d learned to keep himself apart emotionally.

“Yes.” Miriam actually clapped her hands. “That’s right, and those are beautiful lines from Robert Frost’s poem ‘Birches.’ He uses the
S
sound to give us the delightful sense of the snow melting and falling away. I’m afraid Mr. Drake hasn’t been quite as successful with his
A
’s.”

“What is an Arcade?” Eli asked.

Surprisingly it was Samuel who answered, and not with Scripture this time. “I saw one at the bus stop in Madison. It’s a room crammed full of game machines. There was lots of noise and shooting.”