Miriam entered the farmhouse and hung the cape and bonnet Serpent had ripped off her on the peg by the door and shivered at the memory of rounding the corner and finding him on the street. Having him chase after their buggy when they were leaving Willkommen sent another shot of nervous anxiety to tangle down her spine. Thankfully Serpent had been apprehended, but even that did little to calm her troubled spirit.
The house was too quiet and she glanced around the kitchen, feeling totally alone. Emma was in town, and Abram was unhitching Nellie. Still shaking from the run-ins with Pearson, Miriam kept imagining what would have happened if Serpent had pulled back the tarp and found her in the buggy. Would Abram have held fast to his Amish nonviolence or would he have fought to protect her?
What did it matter? Abram was too enmeshed in the past. Not the adherence to the Old Order Amish ways—she understood that—but to his life with Rebecca. He couldn’t get over her death and would carry the guilt that was ill-founded for the rest of his life.
Such a shame that he couldn’t forgive himself.
He had asked her about her past. Had she forgiven her mother?
Miriam glanced around the large kitchen with the finely crafted table and benches and the sideboard where Emma cooled her pies. A clock and calendar hung on the wall. Two oil lamps sat on shelves with tin plates behind them to expand the arc of light when night fell. Everything about the kitchen warmed her heart with a sense of home, the stable home Miriam had never known.
As much as Miriam wanted to climb the stairs and hole up in her bedroom so she wouldn’t have to see Abram again, she couldn’t run away. Emma would be late coming home and the burden of preparing the meal always fell on her shoulders. Surely, Miriam could prove herself useful instead of being a burden. That’s what she’d heard her mother say once about her daughters—that they were a burden. The word still cut a hole in Miriam’s heart. How could any mother say that about her child?
Hot tears burned her eyes but Miriam refused to cry. She wouldn’t let her face be splotched and red when Abram came indoors. She didn’t need his perusal or questioning gaze. She had already said too much to him and had allowed herself to be too taken in by him. She’d learned her lesson.
Love and a happy home weren’t for her, especially not with an Amish man who longed for his dead wife. Miriam could never compete, not that she wanted to. If Abram didn’t accept her for who she was, then he wasn’t the man for her.
She would find someone else.
Or would she?
In reality she knew she wouldn’t. She would go through life with the wall around her heart, the way she had lived for the past twenty-four years. Abram had broken through that protective barrier for the briefest of times. She had made a mistake letting him in. A very big mistake.
* * *
Abram dallied in the barn, biding his time. He wasn’t ready to face Miriam again. The run-in with Serpent had unsettled him. The man had held Miriam captive and hurt her and had come so close to finding her again.
Perhaps Abram had been too quick to bring his uncle into the situation. Had the meeting at the Amish market led to Serpent learning Miriam’s whereabouts? Abram needed to return to the market tomorrow and would talk to his uncle then. Samuel would be able to clarify some of the confusion as well as provide information about how long Serpent would be held in custody.
Although relieved that Serpent had been apprehended, Abram was still troubled about another issue. His sister’s earlier admonition continued to swirl through his mind. Emma was right. Abram was prideful. He was also fearful of what Miriam would say if he asked her to stay, to join the Amish faith and give their future a chance. He had lost a love once. He was not willing to open himself to that pain again.
Eventually, Abram ran out of chores that needed to be done. He was weary, not so much from physical exertion but more from a heaviness of heart that weighed down his shoulders.
Tonight he would talk to Miriam once Emma retired to her room. He would ask forgiveness for surprising her with his uncle’s visit to the market. He did not want to do anything to hurt her or to cause her harm. He would never be able to forgive himself if he caused her pain. If she readily accepted his apology, perhaps he would find the wherewithal to broach the subject of their future.
Hoping their differences could be resolved and feeling a swell of optimism, he opened the door to the kitchen. Emma had come home and was standing at the stove stirring a pot of soup.
He stepped inside and wiped his feet on the doormat, inhaling the pungent smell of onions and peppers and tomatoes.
“I did not see you come home,” he said to Emma.
“Isaac walked me to the front door so we could talk a few minutes before I entered the house.”
Abram glanced into the main room. “I do not see Miriam.”
“She was so thoughtful and prepared a vegetable soup with some of my homemade noodles. I was relieved when I came in and smelled the wonderful aroma filling the house.”
“Where is she?”
Emma’s face grew serious. “She’s upstairs, Abram. She said she’s tired and wants to get some rest.”
He glanced at the stairwell. “Surely she will eat with us.”
Emma shook her head. “Not tonight. She’s not hungry.”
“What else did she tell you, Emma?”
“Only that she plans to take the bus to Atlanta.”
“When?”
“I cannot say. All I know is that she emailed her sister today.” Emma’s face softened. She touched his arm as if offering support. “Abram, there is no reason for her to stay here.”
“Serpent has been taken into custody. The sheriff needs a statement from her. And what of the trial? She will have to testify.”
“Then she can return. But trials take time. It might be months from now. She must move on with her life.”
Emma pointed to the table. “Come and sit, Abram. I will get your soup.”
He shook his head and turned toward the door. “I have work to do in my workshop.”
“You must eat.”
“I am not hungry.” Pulling his hat from the hook, he opened the door and stomped into the cold night.
Halfway to the workshop, he stopped and looked at the window of the room where Miriam was staying, hoping he would see her standing at the window. The room was dark and the only thing he saw in the glass was the reflection of the night sky.
His heart felt equally dark. He had tried to give of himself, but he had not given enough. In his youth, he had injured Emma. Trevor’s accident had followed soon after. Three years ago he had lost his wife and child. Now he was losing Miriam.
His shoulders slumped as he entered the workshop. Miriam was already focused on Atlanta and the life she would live there. She would say goodbye to Willkommen. She would say goodbye to Abram, as well.