CHAPTER TWELVE

 

Miriam tied the black apron as she made her way down the stairs.  The floor was cool against her bare feet, and she couldn’t wait to grab her new black boots at the back door.  She wanted to badly to get married right away, especially after Jeremiah and the two girls had accepted her, dirty, matted hair and all.  That would be too hasty of a decision, and being that she really cared about him, she wouldn’t cave into her carnal desires. 

“You look a little more rested, and your eyes are not like saucers, Miriam,” He was talking about the shock that her body had been in, being abducted and all.  He knew that it had taken a beating, but he couldn’t shake off her irresponsibility too. “Your limp isn’t as bad. Does your leg feel better?  You could have gotten hurt worse by being so irresponsible.”

She turned away and changed the subject, hoping he wouldn’t take notice. “What can I help you make for breakfast?”

It didn’t work.  “Well, what do you have to say?” He asked as he turned and placed the dirty frying pan into the wooden dry sink.  A kerosene lamp flicked on the counter next to it, adding a little life to the overcast day. 

She broke his gaze and raked her teeth over her bottom lip.  She was awful, unforgiveable. He should hate her; she wondered if he did lose some feeling for her. She wouldn’t blame him.  The men outnumbered the women in most Amish communities in Walnut Creek, so he had to have two or three good Amish women lined up behind her.  What could she do?  She sighed, her stomach tilting.

“I won’t say anything else.  You’ve been through enough.  His words caused her to look up, her chin elevating like a converted person’s zest to live a changed life after a fall. “I know that you will do well here.” He turned, spooned the fried potatoes and orange peppers into the oval serving dish, and turned and handed it to her.  He caught her smile before lightly pecking her on the cheek.

She liked this gaze of comfort and pleasurably melted her twinkling eyes into his loving eyes, noticing his long, black eyelashes as if he was a treasure that she had never seen.  She wanted him to know that she was grateful, so she blinked before blushing again, and said, “I like it when you kiss me.  You wiggle my whole body, Jeremiah.”  She smilingly planted her top teeth over her lips before grinning, and then turned and walked over to the table.  “You already cooked the ham, potatoes, and the sweet biscuits.” She looked down and saw the large platter of sugar-cured ham, which had to be 2 inches thick and coated in delicious brown sugar, and the piping hot biscuits.  Her mouth watered, and her stomach stopped doing cartwheels, but she still craved a cold lemon-lime-flavored Sprite. 

“Will you marry me?”  He asked, and he knew the answer.  She’d been bold enough to live in a tree house, and a hickory one at that, so she would take a chance on him. It was time, and he felt good about it. The lamp flame flickered against his handsome face as he waited to hear this golden beauty’s decision. His chest exhaled slowly and painfully, for it had been a long road with the girls having no mamm.  It was hard, but Gott had seen him through it.

The overcast sky squiggled in a sudden spray of sunshine through the kitchen window pane, allowing her to fully see his face, and she thought that he wore the face of the man that Gott had wanted her to have; a man that would give Grace his last name and teach her right. Tears sparkled from beneath her eyes, her tanned face glimmering, framed by a glowing blonde bundle of locks.  There was only one answer, “Yah!”

“Really?”  He almost jumped up and down as he waited to hear if he had heard correctly, and she nodded before leaping into his arm.  Sweeping her up closer to his chest and neck, her pushed back the blonde hair, the one that he adored if it did or did not sparkle, and passionately kissed the woman of his dreams.   He had found his fraa.

 

******

 

As Miriam handed Rachael the platter to rinse, she thought about how she didn’t have a mamm left alive that would rejoice with her in her upcoming marriage.  The Amish had a wedding season every year, and she wanted to marry the following wedding season.  In the community, they kept the weddings private until very close to the wedding, except for the mother, who had to plant celery to be put in recipes and in vases that would sit around the tables.  The bride and groom had their place at the corner of two tables.  The tables formed an “L” shape, with one table being the bride’s family, and the other table being the groom’s family. 

Up to her arms in soapy suds, she handed Rachael the ceramic bowl.  At least she could make her wedding dress. She wanted the usual blue.  She’d always loved any shade of blue.  She was glad to be the mamm to two little girls who had no mamm.  She was glad that Jeremiah could be the daed to Grace.

“Here’s a soapy frying pan, Rachael,” she blurted, her face relaxed in mother-dochder bonding time.  Rachael had the most sparkling glow about her even since she had heard about the wedding plans.  The Troyer haus was now a place to call home.