PROLOGUE

 

 

 

Miriam Ruth Yoder purposely disobeyed her daed and leaned against the black barn. When two strange menner, or men, in a red pick-up truck, had flown up the lane to the barn, she had sensed trouble brewing.  The anger and hatred had shown in their eyes.  She had been quick to walk toward the truck to check them out.  The driver had hastily waved his arm out the opened driver’ side window to move her away from them.

What business did those mean-looking guys have with her daed?  Had they gotten upset about some of the wicker furniture that her daed had made?  Could it have involved their produce business?  Surely her daed would make things right.  He had never had an angry customer, at least not one that she had been aware of, during his many years of running the family businesses. 

Tourists swarmed Lancaster County.  Were these wild-eyed men eager tourists that wanted to check out an Amish farm? Something deep down, something bigger, than herself was telling her that something wasn’t right. Her chest was tight, her breathing labored, and her hands had a nervous sweat.

“Why did you do it, pioneer man?  Talk to us!”  A male voice sounded like a mad dog as he yelled at her daed.  Miriam clenched her lips shut and pressed her ear into the crack between the wooden wall.  She wouldn’t let them hurt her daed.  She was small, but she’d just had a birthday, making her eight years old, so she had the strength of an eight year-old. Her heart sank, for in the back of her mind, she knew that she couldn’t fight these wild men with her own petite body.  Would they suddenly leave, and this sudden encounter could be only a close call, a bad memory?  Would they be that lucky?  They needed God now.  No, they needed God and his whole army.  Her sharp teeth clamped down on her bottom lip as her nervous head shot up, her head tilted toward the rolling blue sky. Eyes envisioning the eyes of God, she asked for a sudden ring of angels. Please, God.  Send one-hundred angels!

Why was this happening to them?  They never bothered anyone: they kept the Ordnung, kneeled for prayer twice a day, and helped the less fortunate.  Why, Lord?  Why?  Was God a just God?

“I’ve brought Jesus to your village.”  Her daed’s words now sent cold chills down her legs.  It was clear that these men were from Costa Rica. They had found him!  They would kill him! 

Miriam closed her eyes and thought about what to do.  She’d overheard her daed talking about the upset drug leaders looking for them in nearby Paradise.  As usual, she wasn’t supposed to be listening.  How could she run and tell her mamm that they had found her daed?  She’d surely get in trouble for eavesdropping. But they were going to kill him!

“Please don’t shoot; I can help you find peace in Jesus, too.  Don’t you want to be in heaven one day?”  Her daed’s words were loud, but caring and confident in saving the mad men’s lost souls. So this was how it was: you keep low, stay away from the world, and work hard, and then the world comes to take you out? It wasn’t fair, but what could she do?  What could her daed do?  It was all in God’s hands.

Miriam’s clammy face emerged with a cold anger.  If this was how it was, she’d do better in joining the world.  But there was God, and she’d be held accountable for her actions if she got upset and left her Amish community, and that was why the wild men were here: they didn’t believe in Him; they did not worship Him, and they hated Him.  Could she leave and betray God?  No way! They sang hymns to Him from The Ausbund; they looked out at the storms, the hail swirling above the crops, and begged Him for mercy; they sat in Amish farmhouses every other Sunday morning, bottoms on hard, wooden benches, in reverence to worship Him.  She would not turn back; she could not turn back.  No matter what fate God bestowed upon them, she would not get bitter and turn away.

Miriam had no other choice but to make a run to the phone shanty.  Her head jerked to the right to make sure there was no one behind her.  A deep breath entered her shaky lungs before she decided to make a run for help. 

“BANG! BANG! BANG!”  Miriam’s skin turned stone cold as she was almost to the back doorstep.  She had to tell her mamm so that she could lock the door while she ran to the phone shanty.  Her bare feet jumped the back doorsteps two at a time.  She swung the back door open and saw her mamm, Martha, turning the corner.  She fell into her arms and screamed, “The men from Costa Rica shot daed!” 

What she did not know was that her daed had just been martyred

 

CHAPTER ONE

 

New York, New York, 1959

 

 

 

Miriam Ruth Yoder took her hands and patted her face.  Quietly, she tried to get rid of all of the hurt that flowed down her rosy-red checks.

She could not do it.  

She demanded the tears to leave.  “You’re going to embarrass yourself, girl, please stop it!  You’re not a boppli!”

She leaned over her lap and grimaced as she lifted her bottom off the warm metal seat.  Had it always been this hard?  Miriam remembered that it hadn’t always been this way; she’d once enjoyed the perfect life.  A sharp pain ran down her left leg.  Her eyes traveled down, past her golden locks and saw that the navy leg brace was still bundling her broken leg. It was good to protect the bone until it healed, but it had kept her off the football field, making her secluded from the normally active life of a high-school-aged girl. 

     If only I hadn’t tried to impress Jared Huber. Guilt and recklessness emerged, needling her whole body.  There had been a lot of “ifs’ and trying to impress an Englischer had been one of them.  Pretending to be Englisch when they were really Old Order Amish to the core had been one, too.  Turning sixteen and acting like you’re not a woman, staying in school, had been the biggest one.  She was restless, knowing well enough that her former Old Order Amish community was right: you grow up at sixteen, join the church, and get married. 

Truth be told, she certainly wanted to kiss Tony Huber, Jared’s younger, more studious brother.  Jared had dared her to jump into the hickory tree that stood within one foot of the open upstairs bedroom window.  Her prize: to lock lips with Tony Huber. 

Tony had softly smiled and given a quick, cheerful nod when Miriam had glanced at him for approval of the dare.  It seemed that he’d wanted to be kissed. 

Impressing the high school quarterback was a trophy in itself; adding a kiss from his brother, the “Most Likely to Succeed” student, was confetti and thick icing on the cake.  If she made the jump, she’d be the most popular girl at New York Day School.  If she didn’t make the jump, she’d be the most unpopular one. 

There she sat, pitying herself for acquiring the heavy leg cast.  She wished that things would have turned out differently.   Why had she gone to Ida’s rural weekend home for the slumber party?  Ida had always been a trickster.  The relaxing thoughts of rolling and giggling in cotton pajamas and munching on birthday cake and popped corn had been flawed.

     They hadn’t even sung “Happy Birthday” to Ida when she’d motioned for them to follow her up the swirled staircase to see her new gift: a hot pink pair of roller skates.  A tan shoe box had housed the gift.  Everyone had watched as Ida had neatly opened the cream-colored tissue paper.

Ida had gotten a Saturday job at the Scoop Ice & Burger Shop.  Miriam was now wishing that she’d never recommended her for that job. If truth be told, she had wished that she’d kept to herself, hidden from the popular crowd.  Hiding was why they were in The Big Apple, and in a sense, they’d done more than hide: they had tried to conform.

Miriam’s mind snapped back into reality as a baseball came hurling her way.  The stocky, wild-eyed boy skipped up the steps, two at a time, and grabbed the stray ball.  The wind tried to move his thick, black curls with no success. His tall statue made him look attractive, even if he was another Englisch man. Within seconds, he was leaping back down the steps with no acknowledgement of her.  Was her face fading away from the Englisch world as fast as she’d entered it? Not being noticed, especially by the Englisch men, made her feel worthless, and even like an ugly duckling.  She was at the bottom of the pickings, and she knew it. If only she’d made that perfect leap into that hickory tree!

A light breeze sideswiped the silver bleachers and teased her hot face with its promise of relaxation.  Another wave came and dangled half of her blonde stray hair around her forehead.  Half-refreshed fit her good ever since they’d left Lancaster County to hide from her father’s killers.  The big city just didn’t offer enough free sunshine to get a good farmer’s tan or enough green trees to replenish one’s soul.  Candy, Chinese take-out, and luxury shopping: that was New York. 

Her tired eyes scanned the football field, sweeping over the tops of bobbling heads of Englisch students. The deep green grass lined the large, oblong field. Patches of dirt had pushed up in spots where the green grass hadn’t been able to keep up with those heavy athletes that had fallen on it.  Back home, at her two-room Amish schoolhouse, they played softball beside the school, and they had fragrant, sweet-tasting honeysuckles and bright green, leafy trees. For miles, green leafage and beautifully, fire-red-glazed sweet gum trees dotted the rural Amish schoolyard. Old oaks, nice, polite hickory trees, and lazy willow trees dotted the sprawling countryside that sloped for miles near her family’s farm.  She yearned for more country in her life, even hickory trees, as long as they were on an Amish farm and not in the backyard of an Englisch country home.

Not even one active student, out on the sun-kissed field, even cared to look her way.  It was as if she didn’t exist anymore.  Her days at New York Day had just ended; she could feel it.  It was time to move ahead with her life; it was time to get back to the country.

“You’re not looking very good.  Why do they have you so far from the others?  You can’t cheer them on up here!”  Her mother, Martha, walked up the steep steps to get her.  “Let me take your textbooks.  Do you have any homework tonight?”

“Why would I have my books with me if I had no homework?”

Miriam lifted up and grabbed the crutches.  Her right leg hadn’t compensated for the decreased activity of the left leg.  She’d been using crutches for months.

“I’m sorry.  I just wasn’t thinking.  It’s been a stressful day.  We’re moving.”  Martha sighed as she shuffled the weight of the four textbooks. 

The earlier news of the job transfer had made Martha feel nauseated and dizzy. She would travel anywhere for a pay raise, except one place:  Lancaster, Pennsylvania. 

“Getting out of here sounds terrific.  I hope it’s out of New York; I’m so sick of the city.  A neat suburban area would be nice.  I want my own dog, too.” Miriam hinted to her mamm, hoping she’d get her way.

She knew that her mamm had been struggling to make ends meet.  The city was expensive, and it took twice as long to get anywhere.  She missed sitting down at the table for a family-style dinner.  She wanted to reconnect with her mamm.  Her mamm’s new companion was the radio, which had Gospel Hour, Ethel’s Sisters---a talk show, and many other addicting broadcasts, on a daily basis.

Miriam made her way through the field entrance, as she desperately wanted to chat with her mamm.  She hadn’t wanted to tell her mamm about the intruder that had attacked her behind the neighborhood candy store.  She thought that she knew who he was: her mamm’s boss.

Miriam recalled the day that he’d pinned her back against the stockroom door, leaving her gasping for air.  She had pretended to be passed out, to avoid further abuse from him.  However, the last attack, he’d put a gun to her head.  As her life had flashed before her, she’d decided to let him have his way.   She had now missed three periods. 

Instead of sleeping after midnight, she’d sit crossed-legged on the kitchen floor and nibble on her mamm’s homemade ginger crackers to try to combat the sick stomach.

Where was justice?  It just wasn’t right for a sixteen year-old to get pregnant without her consent.  She’d often stare down at her pink pajamas and cry up to Gott.  “We weren’t safe in our Amish community, and we weren’t safe here.  Gott, where can we be safe?  I just wish I could start my life over again, on the same farm.”

Could they start over again?  Her daed, Mark, had been killed by Costa Rican drug lords that had gotten mad because he’d built a church in their neighborhood.  They’d hated God and had wanted Him out.  

The Costa Rican gang leader and his closest man had hopped a red-eyed flight from Costa Rica in search of him and the fellow missionaries.  After a day of sleepless searching, they had found him working in his barn and shot him.  

She had felt guilty because she had survived.  She’d vowed to one day travel back to Costa Rica and build another church.  Within a second, she’d lose her life for Jesus.  She felt like her faith was just as strong as it had ever been.

She let out a couple of deep breaths as she gripped her tired hands on the crutches.  She looked at her mamm, who was watching her daughter struggle with the crutches.  

“You don’t look well.  You’re pale.  Are you hiding something from me?  Miriam Ruth, tell me what’s going on!” 

Martha knew when her daughter was hiding something, but she always waited to see how long she’d hold the secret back before coming clean. 

Martha had known that her daughter was pregnant.  She knew that being pregnant at such a young age would be hard for her.

After her husband had been killed by drug dealers from their former mission home in Costa Rica, Martha had been left with no work and four mouths to feed.  Her older girls, Margaret and Hannah, had later gotten married and left home.

Martha paused and juggled the textbooks.  She shot a curious look at Miriam.

“I will tell you, but I’m not ready yet.  I want to wait until we move.” Miriam bit her lip and pouted.  Never was it a worse time to be caught red-handed in a mighty big lie.  She hoped that her mamm would understand why she’d lied.  It was to protect her from fainting in the floor.  That’s what Miriam thought her mamm would do when she learned of the unwed pregnancy.   If only I was back in Amish Country, where there is extended familye to help watch my child.

Miriam had endured lots of morning sickness.  She’d sit, with her head down between her legs, in the bathroom floor, feeling the baby’s kicking vibrations against her face.  She’d gotten so attached to the little life that was within her belly.  She’d talk to the boppli, and when she was alone, she’d sing to the boppli.  The boppli would not kick when she’d sing, as if he was listening to her voice. 

Miriam wondered if her mamm would feel some of the pain and humiliation.  She needed her mamm’s support to help raise the boppli.  Before the move, she could bet a silver dollar on her mamm’s actions; she was a lady of her word.  Nowadays, she was all over the place and fixated on the radio broadcasts.  Entertainment had changed her mamm.  She’d been treating Miriam coldly, like she was unwanted: the evil stepchild.  Her self-esteem had hit rock bottom after the fall from the tree. She wanted to run away, as long as it wasn’t in the country where there were hickory trees.

Miriam brought her attention back to her gazing mother, “Let’s go get a chocolate Coca-Cola at Branson’s Antiques and Refreshments.” 

“That’s a very good idea, but you’re dodging my concern about your health and erratic behavior,” Martha said as her brow narrowed.

Martha knew her daughter well and wished that she’d felt close enough to talk to her.  She was sure that her nightly radio shows seemed to replace their family times, but with an abusive boss and a stressful job managing a busy pharmacy and candy store, Martha had to escape to the shows; they offered her only strength to endure the big city. 

They got into the back of the taxi and remained quiet until Martha explained to the driver that they’d be going to Branson’s Antiques and Refreshments for an afternoon treat.  Although Martha owned a nice car, it was easier to get around on the subway, bus, or by renting a taxi.  After riding all her life in a horse and buggy, hailing a taxi seemed like a luxury. 

The taxi pulled up in front of Branson’s Antiques and Refreshments.  Martha handed the driver money and said, “Keep the rest as a tip.  Thank you.”  She knew she hadn’t the extra money to buy chocolate Coca-Colas, so a generous tip had been out of the question.  She’d done it anyway, and for good reason:  she wanted to relax her daughter so she’d start talking about why she was up with night sickness almost every night.  She wanted to know what kind of guy that her daughter had fallen for and if he would be serious about taking her daughter’s hand in marriage. 

Both ladies stood in front of the store window and admired the light blue antique glass vases that were on display, but each woman had a different thought running across their mind.  Martha was wishing that she could afford such nice hand-crafted vases for her daughter when she’d be marrying the baby’s father.   Miriam was wondering how many fried pies she’d have to make to buy her mother the largest face in the window.  As usual, Miriam wanted the most expensive one.  Shopping had filled a void that had been created since her father’s dead and their sudden relocation into a very large city. 

The slender teenage soda fountain worker knew their order as she drew a relaxed smile and pointed to Miriam, “Double chocolate shots and two extra cherries for you and one-half a shot of chocolate and no cherries for you?”  Both ladies nodded as they took a stool at the fountain.  It may be hard times, but they could still enjoy a chocolate Coca-Cola on a perfectly beautiful Manhattan day.

 

CHAPTER TWO

 

“I’m sorry Ms. Yoder, but my cousin is in from Baltimore.  He’s decided to take the promotion.  You won’t be going to Lancaster County after all.”  The atmosphere in the office fell quiet with dread, for Martha Yoder had depended on that promotion. Both women sat quietly in their chairs, one rubbing her stomach.  What would they do?  If Martha stayed in New York, she’d be taking a thousand dollar a year pay cut, and she’d have to continue putting up with her boss’s unwanted sexual advances. Somewhere stable, even a little more safe than the big city, would have been good.  Her hopes had been let down, her faith in moving ahead and bettering herself had suddenly shattered by the lips of a fast, talking, greedy, powerful man. 

   Miriam tucked her legs up to her chest and cradled her arms around her knees.  She thought that it was time to let her mamm know that she was pregnant.  She knew that her mamm’s boss would get nervous and want them transferred out of New York.

“Do you have anything that I can do?”  Miriam spoke up now.  She felt good about what she was about to say, for the boss deserved the result of his careless behavior.  Her heart raced, and she had to force back her revengeful snickers.  He’d fathered this baby that was inside her belly, and he’d have to provide for it. “I need work so that I can provide for my daughter.”

“No, little girl:  there is no work for you here.”  The boss’s words made Miriam’s face blush.  How could he be so cold towards her, knowing that she needed work to put food on the table?  He’d raped her, and she’d been unusually nice in not reporting him to the police.  She’d even kept the pregnancy secret from her best friend, Jackie Sue.  She leaned over her knees and remembered how awful the pain was when she was laying in the alley with blood all over her and on her clothes.  She felt worthless and used.  Where was justice? Where was God?

Now, Miriam got louder, “Well, I’m pregnant, so I’m headed out of here.  I’m going back to Amish Country if I have to go alone.  Miriam stood up and pointed her shaking finger at the boss.  You raped me!” The release of energy felt good, but her knees were knocking against each other.  Would such a lashing at one of New York’s most powerful men wreak havoc, making things worse? She bit her bottom lip and shivered, her face still blood red, her skin sweating.

He said now, “You’re fired, Ms. Yoder.” The young boss’s calm tone and relaxed eyes showed no remorse for attacking a young girl and getting her pregnant.  So this was his defense, to fire her mother?  Miriam knew what to do: call the police.

But she would let him know how she felt first, “I bet you’ve ended a lot of lives in the city?  Some of those bag ladies out there on the streets; they had you as a boss?”  Miriam stopped talking, as she felt her mother’s cold hand around the back of her neck.  She knew that she’d been taught to be polite, especially to authority.  However, Miriam was now with child, so she was her own authority. Anyways, her mother wasn’t shaking, nor was she sweating.  Had she wanted to ignore what had happened and keep her mouth shut?  All to have a roof over one’s head and food on the table, even if it was cold corn bread and watered-down milk on the dinner table every night,  toward the end of the month?

Why, they could do well back in Amish Country.  They could build a smokehouse, raise some chickens, to get good brown eggs, and can garden vegetables.  What had happened to her mother?  It was as if the city had put a curse on her, dragging her along its spell.  She needed to snap out of it, out of the chaos, the pain, and the poverty of the low-wage workers.  She needed to go back home.

Miriam spun around and looked at her mother.  There was no fear of confronting her.  She was on her own.  Her mother would have to accept it. “I’ve never let you down.  I’ve never talked back to you…”  Her mother swung her hand over her mouth.  Martha’s eyes were firm, as if she had total control over her daughter.  She did not.  And Miriam would show her as she stepped back and confidentially blurted, “I am sixteen, and I can do what I want to do! Goodbye.  I’m leaving.”

“Young lady, respect your mother!”  The boss came around his desk and grabbed Miriam, turning and shaking her.  His eyes looked empathetic but a little shocked about her disobedience to her mother.  “I have Holmes County open. I have a house there that you can rent for half the price you’re paying for that two bedroom apartment.”

The boss looked down at Miriam as if he were concerned about her outburst.  He sure hadn’t been concerned when he’d put a gun to her head in the back alley.  Ever since the attack, she’d had nightmares and had woken up with night sweats. He had devastated her life, took her innocence, and left her a wounded victim.

“Holmes County sounds good.”  Martha said now, as she nodded at the boss.  Martha felt as if she could break down and start weeping at any time, but she acted as if they hadn’t needed the house in Holmes County.   She had to; they were behind on rent, with no savings and nowhere to go.  God forbid that they would be forced to go back to Lancaster County.  After finding out about her husband’s hidden secret life, it would be too dangerous. Martha gave a polite smile and grabbed Miriam’s hand, walking her out of the downtown office. 

As they walked down a Manhattan street, hand-in-hand, Martha thought about the secret meetings that her husband had planned back in Amish Country: the flickering oil lamps, the low voices of strangers, and a closed Ausbund.  His secret has cost him his earthly life.  Now, look at them, her daughter raped, wounded, and left pregnant by a mad, powerful rich man.  If her husband had known, would he have done what he had done?  Would he have taught the teachings of a Savior named Jesus Christ to those unbelievers south of the border? She had to wonder.  She had to believe that he would have paid any price to spread the life of Jesus Christ to others. 

Watching the busy passersby, all in a hurry, with their fancy clothes on, busy faces, and fast life, Martha wondered if they even knew that religious freedom, the freedom to sing from The Ausbund, to praise a Higher Power out loud, and to believe in a cross on a hill far away, was not allowed in some villages below the border. 

As a busy New York businesswoman, dressed in a nice, well-pressed, black pant-suit, shoved her way through the bustling sidewalk crowd, Martha noticed her silver cross necklace dangling before her breast; it is now that Martha realized one thing about the Englisch:  they have forgotten what freedom cost.  Nodding at a smiling, Marine-dressed soldier walking by, she concluded: He is what freedom means.  He has not forgotten.  He is a Marine.

It wasn’t that she believed in fighting, for she didn’t believe in any war, but for that moment, she was thankful for freedom and those that had lost their life so that she could be free.  Now was the time to get free from a life that God had not planned for her to have, and she knew what she had to do:  go back to the place where her husband was martyred, face her fears, and stand tall for Jesus.  Would she have the strength to do such a thing?  Would they accept her?

Neither women said anything until they hailed for a yellow taxi and got inside.  Martha broke the ice:  “I will support you and the boppli.  You must go by my rules” Martha cradled her dochder in her arms and rubbed her belly.  She couldn’t feel her grandbaby kick yet.  Although she was extremely anxious and upset about the whole situation, she was glad to become a grandma. 

 

 

****

 

Martha Yoder took the tissue from the blue box and wondered where the years had gone.  As she rubbed the excess tears from her face, she reflected on Miriam’s baby years:  she’d walked later than normal, talked later than normal, and was sick more than normal.  She sobbed, trying to muffle her outbursts.  This man, her only source of income, had violated her baby.  She hadn’t been there to protect her and shield her from the pain and dishonor that had occurred in the back alley of New York City. 

You’ve failed as a parent.  She shook her head in ridicule and then continued her self-bashing:  “You met a man and thought that he could give you everything that Mark had given you.  You forgot one thing:  he was Englisch. 

She sobbed now, “I have to do the right thing this time.  I’ve got to make it right for me and my dochder, plus my granddochder that’s on the way.”  Martha clenched her brow tight and bit her lip.  What could she do?  Where else could they go?  She knew none of the Holmes County Amish, but she’d heard that they were much more liberal than the Lancaster Amish. 

She thought that a liberal community would be appropriate for her and Miriam; they might not look down on an unwedded sixteen year-old with baby in tow.  Sure, she expected to hear some gossip anywhere they’d move to, but somehow Holmes County sounded like an attractive place.  Maybe they could hide out and be Englisch, like the tourists back home? 

She sighed and rubbed her weary eyes.  It was hard to sleep knowing that her boss had taken her daughter’s innocence.  Part of her wanted to put a gun to his head, while the other part of her wanted to try to forgive.  She’d been raised in a community that always forgave.

Deep down, Martha knew that she could never forgive this man.  She didn’t feel guilty about it, either.  What he had done could never be reversed, scaring her daughter forever. 

The tissue was held against her face.  She rocked back and forth and cried as she recalled hearing her daughter pop up in bed with a blood-crying scream.  Miriam had lied to her- blaming the nightly nightmares on horror movies that she’d saw with her girlfriends.  In reality, Miriam was in horror movie all too devastating for a young sixteen year-old girl.

This man had to pay, but how?  She had to have the transfer to pay for the granddochder.  Would Gott allow an alternative way?  She could only pray…

 

CHAPTER THREE

 

Six months later…

 

The knock on the door came again, but this time with a greater intensity.  Miriam lay bent down, behind the kitchen counter island.  The strange man continued to pound on the old kitchen door; he seemed determined to break into the haus.

She felt hot and fussy as she tried to shallow her breathes.  She heard a different, louder voice coming from the kitchen window.  She was glad that she was tiny enough to hide behind the bar. 

She knew that she was safe from sight, as the kitchen window faced the other side of the counter island.  What did these men want?  Her mamm was supposed to be home an hour ago.  Why hadn’t she come home yet? 

“BAM!”  Gun shots rang out.  “BAM!”  More shots followed a banging on the door.  She was too frozen to cry, and the baby kicked relentlessly; she sensed that her mother was in trouble. Miriam rubbed her belly to try to calm the unborn baby girl down, but it didn’t work, for the kicking got harder.

It was clear that these men were there to get inside. Was this act of violence random?

Miriam heard the tap of a gun against the floor in the kitchen.  She didn’t know if the intruder had found her.  She recalled leaving the front door unlocked when she’d gotten in from work.  Spanish words echoed from outside the back door.  Two men appeared to be in a heated discussion like the day that she’d eavesdropped at the barn.  She’d been so proud of her daed’s final words, defending Jesus and being an outstanding example.  Could she have the courage to do the same?  She trembled and tried to cry as her life flashed before her.

“Could those men that killed my daed have come back looking for us?”  Miriam whispered as she felt her breath coat her hands. 

“Do they know Christ enough to not take my life?  Gott, protect my unborn baby.  You can take my life, but don’t let my boppli die. I know that I was raped, and I’m sorry that it was my fault for cutting through the alley when mamm had told me not to take that alley.  Please forgive me and save my boppli.”

“I know Him NOT!”  A male’s deep voice echoed from behind her. 

Miriam stayed in the fetal position, thinking of the life that was inside her body.  Had God known that this baby would never make it out into the world alive? 

Miriam shifted her daydreams back to reality as she stayed nestled against the bottom of the island bar.  Shivering, she said now, “Are you from Costa Rica?  Are you an outlaw from New York?  If you were an outlaw from the streets of New York, I’d watch my back.  The gangsters in Costa Rica could take you down with one shot.”

“Really?  What exactly do you know about the gangsters from Costa Rica, little girl? My blonde-haired brother could take all of New York down.”  The deep voice got closer. She had been right: they were the Costa Rican drug leaders, and they had finally found their hiding spot.

Miriam’s mind ran back to the day that her daed was martyred.  I have to be like daed and defend Jesus! Miriam snapped around and jumped off the kitchen floor, banging her head on the counter.  “Ouch!”  She was face-to-face with a dark-haired Hispanic man who was leaning against his machine gun.

“I believe in Jesus!”  Miriam’s mother’s voice could be heard as she unlocked the back door and walked in. her back was turned away from Miriam, her face in deep conversation with another gunman.  “How did you find us?” 

Her mother kept her back turned as she stepped further into the kitchen.  Another Hispanic male jumped in front of the open door, pointing a machine gun at her head. His evil grin reflected no person life with a Savior. Her mother was screaming, ‘I love Jesus!  Salvation is in my Lord!”

The man next to Miriam looked at her and demanded an answer, “How long have you lived with her?  Did you know that she’s a wacko missionary who has destroyed our community and cut our income in half?”  The dark-haired man’s anger grew, his voice escalating like a wildfire, “I hate Christians!”  He snapped his fingers and motioned for her to turn around.  Miriam obeyed.

“Where’s her husband?”  The other man, who had her mother at gunpoint, asked the man that was standing by Miriam.

“I have none.  I got pregnant in an alley by a married man.”  Miriam snickered, wishing it hadn’t been the truth.   Miriam hung her head in shame. Here she was looking like a very bad girl in front of outlaws.  Her sin was so bad that outlaws looked better than her. 

Her pale mamm turned around and stared at her before saying, “I love you!”  Strands of her silky hair dangled down the sides of her face, touching her baby blue calico dress.  The angry man that had her mamm at gunpoint grabbed her mamm’s left arm and yanked her out of the back door.  “Leave the girl; she’s not Amish.”

The gunman that was standing beside her waited until the third gunman stepped away from the open kitchen door before her whispered, “You’re getting a break today little Christian girl.  Maybe one of us wants to believe in your God and your Jesus.  It’s a gamble.  Today, I take that gamble. I’ll know that they will kill your mother.”  The man shook his head and leaned toward her.  “That is an execution that I can’t stop. They’re mean guys.  I owe them, so I have to do pay backs.  Let’s say that your father was a good man.  I knew the day that he showed up to build that church, he was a goner.  He fed my grandma and taught her to read, so I’m giving you a break.”  He snapped the gun holder over his shoulder, nodded, and walked out. 

Miriam stood there frozen.  She willed her legs, but they wouldn’t move. She heard one of the men’s loud remarks, “You mean she’s not saying anything? Come on, there’s no way that she’s not going down! I have your brother on the phone and he's saying that the daughter is pregnant. If she’s not claiming to be a Christian, then let her be.”

Miriam knew what the man was talking about: would she go down for Jesus like her daed and be killed for her beliefs?  It only took her a second to bite her lip and finally move her frozen legs.

She walked out the back door to see her mother lying on the ground in a puddle of blood.  The men were jumping into a red pick-up truck with Texas plates. Dirt and gravel spun as the outlaws drove off.  She had to save her mamm, but how?  She did not know how to stop the bleeding.

The neighbor’s farm truck raced down the driveway.  Dirt and gravel spun mid-air around all four tires.  Help was on the way.  Praise Gott! He jumped out and yelled, ‘Do first aid.  I’ll go get the Sheriff!”

Miriam didn’t detest, although she wasn’t officially trained in first aid, she’d give it her best t shot.  She kneeled down and grabbed her mother’s right hand to check her pulse.  It was faint and skipping beats, but it was there.  Her mother’s face was pale and blood was on the ground around her head. 

“Are they gone yet, Miriam,” her mother whispered. 

“Mamm, you’re okay!”  Miriam yelled as she leaned down and kissed her forehead.  I’ll get a cloth to stop the bleeding.  I was so scared that you got shot.  I was scared that they took you from me.  It looks like that you feel and hit your head.”

“They did, Miriam.  I’m dying, I can feel it.”  Her mother’s voice was getting lower and her breaths were becoming shallow. 

“NO, MAMM! NO, NO, NO!”  Miriam leaned closer to her mother and detested what she’d just heard.   She couldn’t lose her.  She wouldn’t lose her; she was all that she had, and she wouldn’t let God take her away.  Gott, save her!

Ever since they had moved into the old country haus, her mother had become her best friend. Her mother had been offered a free haus in Holmes County, but had turned it down to protect her daughter.  Miriam had been so proud of her mother for not renting from the man that had raped her in the alley. 

She felt her mother grip her hand tighter.  “I’m going home.  Don’t ever forget to stand up for Jesus.  You knew who these men were, didn’t you?”  Her mother paused.  The color was quickly fading from her face, and her breathing was uneven and shallow. 

Miriam swallowed the lump in her throat.  She felt guilty for being scared by the gangsters.  She should have been courageous like her father had been on the day that she’d eavesdropped on his conversation. 

“Yes, Mamm, I knew that they were the anti-Christians from Costa Rica.  I was so scared, and everything happened so quickly, mamm.  Please forgive me.”

“You didn’t stand up for Jesus, so they thought you weren’t a Yoder. Let it be between you and Gott.  Repent, please.”  Her mamm stopped speaking and took two more breaths. 

“Mamm!  Mamm!  Please breath!”  Miriam yelled as she leaned down to check to see whether she was breathing; she was not breathing. 

Miriam threw her head down on her mother’s chest and wept.  Her stomach was cramping the worst cramp that she’d ever endured.  Could it be labor pains or the shock of what had happened?  Miriam sent up a prayer:  “Please don’t let me have this baby on such a tragic day.  Have mercy on me, Gott.”

 

****

 

 

“Is the world spinning yet?  The anesthesia can play tricks on you.”  The peppy nurse donned a large white nurse’s hat as she leaned down to look into Miriam’s eyes. “I’m just checking to make sure everything’s okay.  You have a beautiful baby girl.  Congratulations.” 

“Thank You, Ma’am.”  Miriam forced words out. 

While she was glad that her newborn daughter was healthy, her mind was on her mother: was she alive?  Miriam knew that she would use money from her pie orders to buy her mother something nice, if she were to leave the hospital on the same day that she would leave with her newborn daughter.  

“Ma’am, how is my mother?”  Miriam’s nose wrinkled and her throat tickled as she ended her question.  . 

“The doctor will be in to talk to you,” The nurse replied. 

Her cheerful tone made Miriam relax.   She took her hands and gripped the sides of the bed to pull up in the hospital bed.  The bed was much firmer than her feather bed at home. 

“Ms.  Yoder, it’s been a rough day, hasn’t it?”  The young blonde-haired physician came into the room with a worried look.  He pulled up a chair, set down, and scooted closer to the hospital bed.  “My job is sometimes stressful, especially when things don’t turn out as we would like to see them.”  He took some deep breaths, and then added, “Your mother has passed. He paused and then added, “The good news is that your baby girl looks like she’s going to do well.  You have my condolences, Ms. Yoder.”

“I can’t take her with me.  I can’t take a baby when I’m on my own.  I’m still in high school.”

The doctor wiggled his brow and leaned back.  He stared and crossed his arms.  “You are going to adopt the baby out?”

“Why, of course not, doctor.”  Miriam wiggled in the bed and tugged at the left bed rail.  Her left thigh rested against the cold silver bed railing and the room smelled like medicine, making her nauseous.  How’d she get here, and why had God allowed this to happen?  She had never done anything to deserve this kind of treatment. 

Miriam jerked her thigh away from the railing and tried to swallow.  “My mother was Amish.  We left because we were being hunted by drug leaders who were mad at my father for building a church on their hang-out spot.  We work very hard.” 

Miriam began to sob as she tried to push her knees up against her chest to cling to them; she was too sore to scoot them up.  She took a breath and leaned down, trying to lace her fingers under her knees. 

She had always sat in a corner in her room and tugged her arms around her knees during hard times.  It was a way to rest her head atop her knees and pretend that no one could hurt her.  She needed to know that no one had hurt her, and she needed to know that now.  She tried to lean up again, but cried in pain. 

“Don’t do that!”  The nurse grabbed her legs and lightly pulled them down onto the bed.  “You just had a baby.  It will take a while for you to heal.  I need to check your uterus in a minute.”  The nurse explained. 

The nurse knew that the reaction to child birth was always the same with very young mothers; the reality never sat in within the first twenty-four hours.  It was sad to see a child giving birth to a child, but that was how it was, and although it was rare, the nurse had to be real with the mothers.  Miriam had been raped and she’d delivered a bouncing baby girl.  That was a reality that had to be reinforced, whether the nurse wanted to punch the guy that had raped her or not; she had to remain calm.

How could a wealthy business owner behave like a criminal misfit and take her innocence?  She wanted to run back to New York, lay the baby on his office desk and scream at him.  She wanted him to say that he was sorry for what he’d done to her.   She’d be happy if he had the guts to do that. 

Miriam had a plan:  She’d drive up to New York and ask to see the attacker.  When she’d enter the office, she’d lay the baby down on his desk, smile, and leave.  That would teach him that there are consequences to raping a child.  Could she do that?  She had to believe that she could get back what she’d lost.  He’d created the baby by his choice to attack her, so he had to take the baby.  Plain and simple:  to heal and forget the rape, she had to give him the baby.

“Ms. Yoder, so you’re saying you can handle this baby?”  The physician stood up and threw his hands on his broad hips.  Doubt was in his eyes.

“Well, I have a car that’s paid for, but the rent is due…”

“So you’re poor and have no money?”  The physician still doubted her.

Miriam turned to the right to look for agreement from the nurse, but she looked hesitant to take up for her.  Miriam had to get the baby to her father in New York, as he was immensely wealthy, owning several businesses.  She had to get them to believe her.  However, she couldn’t tell a lie.  She’d be lying if she had said she’d wanted to take the baby, for she was a baby herself- her mamm’s only baby girl at home. 

Miriam closed her eyes and talked to God:  God, please back me up on this one.  I’m fixing to turn my whole life into a very long battle as a single parent, but I can’t lie to them.  I really don’t trust the baby’s father, either.  What if he rapes her when she’s sixteen, too?  She needs a Christian father.  I know that will never be possible because she was born from an unchristian father.  I’ll make the best out of this situation if you let me keep her with me. Please, just keep us together.

“You’re in deep meditation, little girl,” the doctor said as he stood up and walked over to the bed.  “I could feel the energy of your faith vibrate from the bed.  You looked radiant, as if Someone higher makes your life decisions.  I admire that faith.  It’s an honor to have delivered such a beautiful baby girl to such a wonderfully faithful little girl.  You will make a strong mother, and you’ll have a story to tell one day, about how your faith never left you in the hardest of times.”

“I’ll take the baby with me.”  Miriam didn’t know what she was going to do with a newborn, but she had to show the physician and nurse that she could take her own baby home from the hospital.  She thought of her car:  she had a half a tank of gas.  She scratched her nose and then pulled the sheets up over her chest.  Now would be a good time to go to sleep and wake up in another world.  She’d hoped that she’d been dreaming…

 

CHAPTER FOUR

 

Four months later…

 

Miriam huffed and puffed as she shoved her right pink high heel against the gas pedal, but the car would not go.  “Why on earth did I spend my last five dollars on food last night?  I’m fat enough already, and I am so dumb!  I shouldn’t have driven cross country!”  She banged her head on the steering column as she pulled into the gas station. 

The car coasted into a spot at the gas pumps.  “I don’t even know where I am, but I see a horse and buggy.”  Miriam wanted to dunk under the seats, for she didn’t want to be reminded of her daed’s death.  She was very comfortable in her pink miniskirt and snug tank top.  She hadn’t lost the baby weight by choice, for the stress of her mamm’s death made her lose the weight.

“Yes, Ma’am; fill her up?”  The young man took his shop rag out of his back pocket and wiped the grease off of his hands.  “Have you been crying?”

“I am broke, and my car just stalled.”  Miriam snapped with embarrassment.  She’d driven cross country on a whim, and now she was stuck with no money and no brains to get out of the rut. 

“Oh I see.  I can’t help you.  You need to move your car because we are fixing to gas up all of the county vehicles.”

“Will you buy my car?”  Miriam asked, knowing that she had no money to buy gas or the strength to move the car.  It had been a brand new car, so she knew someone would jump at the deal.  As she leaned out the car window she saw an Amish man walk out of the store.  His walk was smooth and his tall statue was strong and comforting.  He reminded her of her daed. 

“Now is the time to make a run for it.  I will go back to the Amish now.”  She pushed the car door open and looked at the gas attendant.  “I’ll be right back.”

“Okay.  My friend need’s a car.  He’ll be here in fifteen minutes to get his paycheck.  You can wait here.”

“Thanks,” Miriam said as she ran toward the Amish man.  He is my last hope.  He is my daughter’s last hope.  Her whole future spun before her, as did the future of her daughter.  Would this man help her get back into the Amish, or would he turn her away?

“Crazy girl!”  She uttered as she stopped one-legged, a few feet from the man.  You can’t just join the Amish.  You know that!”

The man turned around and looked at her, but he did not speak.  His eyes looked mighty fine, and he looked like a hard worker and a perfect daed for her boppli. 

She wasn’t shy, “Sorry to startle you.  I just wondered if you had a fraa.”

“Who are you?”  What on earth was going on?  An Englisch girl, a beautiful one at that, speaking German Dutch fluently, was coming out of nowhere.

She got more assertive, “Miriam Yoder…”

“Yoder?”  He cut her words off and extended his hand.  Something told him to shake her hand and be polite.  “Where are you from?”

Miriam blushed.  “New York City.”

He stared at her and said nothing. 

“Nice talking to you.  Danki!”  Miriam quickly tried to hide her red face as she turned and ran over to the car.  Gott, why can’t I be snug in his arms and be safe again?  I miss mamm.  She made me feel safe.  I don’t feel safe now.  Miriam pleaded to Gott, but it looked like he wasn’t answering as she heard the horses trotting behind her.  Her future man was riding away.  She pouted. 

“You know him?”  The gas attendant asked as he motioned for his friend to walk over to the gas pumps.  “This is Jerry, my friend; the one that is looking for a good ride.” He had never seen her in town, less alone an Englisch girl having eager conversation with a single Amish man.

“Gut!  I need to sell my car now.”

“Are you going to call someone to get you?”  The gas attendant asked as he looked at the boppli that was in the back seat.  “The car will be his after you walk over to the court house.”

Miriam bit her lip and wriggled her brow.  How would she do this sale?  How would she carry the boppli?”  She looked up and saw the horse and buggy go down the street.  Was the idea that just popped into her head crazy or not?  Asking an Amish man, of whom she didn’t know, and one that she’d just surprised, to take her and the boppli to a hotel was totally ridiculous.  However, she didn’t know anyone else either.  “Just a minute!”  Miriam ran down the street to the buggy.

“Please stop.  I need a ride to a hotel.”  Miriam waved at the man as he looked out the closed buggy.

“Ma’am, I don’t know you.  Leave me alone, please.”  The Amish man was rude, making her cry. Surely she knew that the Amish men couldn’t carry on a conversation with a single Englisch girl, for it looked badly.

She didn’t get the hint as tears poured down her beautiful face. “I have to sell my car right now, as I’m stranded, and I have a boppli in the car.  How can I carry her to a hotel?”  She looked to him for an answer.

She didn’t know Amish customs, so he had to tell her, “It doesn’t look right.”  He shook his head as the rain started pouring down on them.

Miriam glanced up and saw the black cloud that had appeared to have come out of nowhere.  “Fine.  I’ll walk.  I am not Amish anymore, so I can say what I want to.  I’m not interested in getting a man, if that is what you’re worried about!”  Miriam briskly shook her head. 

The cool rain splashed from her blonde hair to the back of her neck, making her shiver.  “I’m not falling out of a hickory tree and breaking my leg to kiss a guy again.  Guys are icky and hurtful.  She stomped her feet.  “Besides, I saw no hickory trees while coasting into this town, so I guess I’ll be a single mamm for life.  I am out of money, so I’m stuck here.  She crossed her arms, pouted, and walked away.”

 

****

 

 

“Sweetheart, are you sure that’s enough heat for you and the baby?”  The petite elderly lady reached and shoved the warm air on full blast.  Her bright red lips puckered as she rubber-necked to see the baby in the back seat.  Miriam could tell that the only reason that she’d picked her and the baby up was because she was concerned about the baby. 

“I’m one of the county social workers,” the lady announced as she glanced at Miriam’s soaked calico tank top. 

“I see that she is very small.  Are you breast-feeding her?”  The lady changed her focus to make it seem like she was partially interested in her. 

Miriam forced a smile.  She knew that the social worker was trying to gather information.   The black-haired nurse at the hospital had sat and talked to Miriam about what to do and what not to do in order to keep social services at bay.  She was glad that the nurse had educated her.  What could she say? Yes, I am breast-feeding, although it hurts to do so because I’m a child myself? 

She knew that she couldn’t tell her story, for the nurse had said that, although it wasn’t her fault, society would look down on her because she was wearing a pink mini-skirt and short, tight top when she’d roller-skated through the back Manhattan alley. 

“I am breast-feeding.  She eats a lot, too.  She is a healthy, happy baby,” Miriam explained as she looked at the social worker and smiled. 

She had told the truth, for the baby was a happy baby.  Miriam enjoyed holding her baby girl and watching the corner of her little chubby cheeks form a smile.   She had named her Grace Anne.

“She’s not very happy being in the rain, is she?  Are you a runaway?”  The elderly lady’s child protection pitch increased as her tone rose.  She appeared to have been the senior county social worker. 

Miriam became upset at her demeanor and decided to defend herself.  She thought a moment before replying, “No, the father is wealthy.  He lives in New York.”

“When is he coming to get you?  I heard that you ran out of gasoline and are selling your car.”

The lady’s words surprised Miriam.  How had she known her story?  She’d been in this small town less than two hours and someone had told her business. 

Miriam glanced back at the baby girl.  She had to think quickly, or she’d be taken from her.  An expensive, heated car sure would make the baby’s life more comfortable, but she wouldn’t have her mother.  She bit her bottom lip and wondered what to say next. 

“Let’s stop and get some lunch.  There’s a nice Amish restaurant right over there.”  The lady extended her red silk-covered arm in front of her as she pointed to the restaurant. 

The echo of a strong perfume enveloped Miriam’s nostrils, making her cough.  She knew that she had very little money, and she had already felt guilty about having spent her previous last five dollars on food.  She didn’t want to make the same mistake twice.

“I bet you haven’t eaten.”  She stared at her for an answer.

Miriam didn’t want to go into the restaurant.  She’d just received a little cash for the sale of her car.  Her stomach hurt with hunger pains, but she had to do what was right.  It wasn’t about her anymore; it was about the baby girl that slept in the back seat. 

Miriam remembered the nurse telling her that they’d test you to see if you were putting your child’s well-being before your leisure needs.  It had been hard for a pregnant sixteen year-old, for she had been used to spending her babysitting money on ice cream and soda pop. 

Today was her birthday, but she wouldn’t tell the lady, for birthday cakes and ice-cream were a thing of the past.  She was seventeen now, and she was almost a woman.  Truth be told, she felt like a woman as she sat in the front seat of the lady’s car.  She now knew what it felt like to be a mother. 

“I need to save my money for my baby.  I can’t afford to eat out.  Thank You for offering.”  She smiled at the lady, who had a puzzled look on her face.

“That’s fine.  Where am I dropping you off?”  The lady asked as she pulled through the restaurant parking lot. 

The car became stuffy, and Miriam had had enough of the lady’s probing.  She knew the lady would surface again, the nurse had said that once you get under their watch, they wouldn’t leave you alone.  She had nowhere to go, very little money, and knew no one in the town.    She wondered where she could hide from the lady.  She’d have to find a place.  She didn’t want the baby taken from her. 

“Let me out here.  I am going into the restaurant to get a newspaper to find a house to rent.”  Miriam announced. 

“What about the baby?  She can’t stay in there if you’re not a customer?  You said that you haven’t the extra money to buy a meal?”  The lady snickered.

Miriam felt like screaming at her.  She felt boxed-in with no escape.  She had to think quickly.  Goosebumps pricked her skin, starting on her back, and then traveling down to her legs.  She’d done the wrong thing.  To be a child with a child just wouldn’t work in the American society. 

Miriam leaned against the cold passenger’s window and watched her breath create a foggy layer.  Ever since the rape, her whole life had been foggy.  She’d been acting on impulse, and she’d felt disoriented to the world.  It was like the only world she had was her and her newborn daughter; everyone else didn’t exist.  She couldn’t tell you what day it was, and she’d have to think hard if you’d ask her who the President of the United States was right now. 

However, the One person who she could tell you were the Leader of her world, even during hard times, was her Heavenly Father.  She knew Jesus loved her; she knew it, and she could feel it.

The corner of her eyes caught the handsome gentleman pulling his covered buggy into the restaurant parking lot.  Seeing him made her smile.  Not that she was interested in ever kissing a man again, for she was dead-set on never attempting to jump into a hickory tree to kiss a man again.  His Plain ties and soft smile made her feel warm and fuzzy inside.  It reflected the faith that her daed and mamm had been martyred for:  the belief in Jesus Christ, that he was real, that he had walked on this earth, and that he was still here today, in spirit, walking with his believers.

“I’m former Old Order Amish.  My mamm was just martyred.  She died the day that I gave birth.”  Miriam finally let go of part of her past. 

“Where’s your father?”  The lady asked as she puckered and applied her dark red lipstick.

“He was martyred, too,” Miriam slowly replied, for her eyes were on the dark-haired man that was getting out of the buggy.  She wiped the steam from the window to see him better.

“Don’t do that!  I’ll have to clean it.  Don’t you have any manners?”  The lady said as she shook her head.

Miriam knew that winning this social worker’s support would be impossible.  She was determined to use her bad luck as a mark against her.  The only way out was through the handsome Amish man.  He had to help her.  There was no other way to get away from this lady’s grip. 

“There’s the person that I’m waiting for, Ma’am.”  Miriam pointed to the man as he walked into the restaurant. She hated fibbing, but she had to protect her dochder. A fear of losing Grace was too strong. She needed to escape from the social worker.

The lady exhaled a deep breath.  “I’m so glad that this wasn’t real.”  She shook her head.  “You worried me; I thought that I’d have to call the Sheriff and take a child today.  I really didn’t feel like driving over to Millersburg today.  I have one foster family in the area.  The others are on vacation in Europe.”

“Gut!” Miriam blasted the lady with German Dietsch, just so she would know that she was really was former Old Order.  “Danki!”

The lady’s eyes gazed at her.  She could tell that the lady knew that she was down on her luck and trying to use her heritage to her advantage.  Her eyes reminded her of crocodile’s eyes- protruding and ready to bite, so Miriam opened the car door up and got out. 

She saw the dark-haired man walking back to his buggy.  He had a white boxed lunch under his arm.  Miriam wondered what was in the box:  maybe a Reuben sandwich and some French fries. 

The social worker got out and walked around the car to the passenger door.  Miriam knew that she was protecting the baby. 

Miriam knew that she wasn’t really waiting for the dark-haired Amish man, but she had to get out of that stuffy car.

Miriam wiggled her brow and clenched her teeth.  Just half an hour earlier, the dark-haired Amish man had been rude to her, leaving her and her boppli in the rain.  Did he deserve to be her rescuer?  She didn’t think so, but she had no other choice. 

Miriam turned to the social worker and tried to sound convincing, “I need to get the wool blanket out of the buggy.  I’ll be right back.”

“I bet you do little girl,” the social worker replied.

Miriam closed her eyes half-way as she approached the buggy.  Tears flew down her face.  She tried to stop crying but she couldn’t stop the flow of sadness. Would this man deny her and her daughter from entering the buggy again?  If he did, she would lose her whole world, for her daughter was her whole world. 

“Hello,” He spoke first this time, although she couldn’t see him through her tears. She heard the social worker walk up behind her.  She knew her plan had failed.  The baby would be taken from her. 

Miriam started sobbing as the cool rain splashed on her face. Her father’s legacy was based on example.  She’d lied to the social worker, so she’d been a bad example of Jesus.  She had to make it right, even if it meant losing her daughter.

“I’m sorry that I can’t stop crying.  I’m just scared.  You scared me when you said that you were a social worker.”  Miriam’s view became clearer as she wiped the water from her eyes.  The social worker shook her head and smiled.  Her red lipstick flickered through the rain.   “I knew that you were alone with child.  I knew it.  I’ve been doing this for forty years.  You deadbeats can’t fool me.”

“I knew that you were against me when you asked about the baby’s father.  And you tried to rub it in that I am too broke to eat!”

The Amish man broke into the conversation, “Lower your voice.”  His words made Miriam’s face blush.

Miriam had two people against her:  the social worker and the Amish man, who was no longer dark and handsome.  She was sure that he may have some grey hair hidden under his straw hat if she’d looked hard enough.  Most fine Amish men were already married; he was too mean to marry. 

“Fine.  Take the baby, and I’m finding a motel.  I was telling the truth about the baby.  Her father owns New York Pharmacy and Dry Goods.  Call him up.”

“Is he married?”  The lady asked, acting as if she’d already known her story.  Had her story been predictable because there were more sixteen year olds that had gotten raped and been left on the streets with child?  Miriam started throwing up; she couldn’t hold any more of the harsh world that she’d been tossed into. 

“I’m taking the baby.  I’m sure I’ll see you around,’ the lady snickered as she wobbled back to her fancy car.

The Amish man said nothing as Miriam leaned and whispered to him, “Don’t tell anyone, but I am Mark Yoder’s dochder.”

“I see,” the Amish man replied.

“My mamm and I were in hiding in an apartment that overlooked Central Park.”  Miriam paused, as to expect the Amish man to comment on what she had said, but he remained quiet.  It appeared that he wasn’t interested in her.  He wants no part of your story, Miriam!  She reminded herself of his earlier rudeness and reluctance to help her and her baby get out of the storm.

“I am sorry to embarrass you twice.  I’m from a strong family.  I’ll be just fine.”  Miriam turned and directed the horse down the two-lane road.