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Mark Christner returned to the house two days later, and this time her father gave him admittance. Jemima had to cover a smile, to see what a timid return Mark made. He was normally so self-confident!
“Mima, may I see you outside?” he asked humbly.
Jemima smiled and nodded, and he led her out past the front porch, out across the lawn, and down to the edge of a little pond that fronted the road. There was a willow tree there, and a swing, and they sat down in it.
Mark looked out over the water a long time, and Jemima felt sorry for him. Words had never been Mark’s strong suit, and she could see that he was struggling with them now. Finally he turned to her, with those beautiful blue eyes, ringed by dark lashes. And just said:
“What happened, Mima?”
For some reason, the way he said it went through her like a spear. Jemima felt tears in her eyes, and shook her head.
“It was too big for me, that’s all, Mark,” she murmured. “It got out of hand so fast. I met the Englischer reporter at Mr. Satterwhite’s store when I bought the clock. He bumped into me, and the letter popped out of the back, so he saw it. And he saw another man wanting to the buy the clock very badly. I guess he just – guessed that the letter might be worth money.
“And they both came to the house and were arguing. And the reporter kept shouting that the letter was worth money. And it all got so confusing that I-I just mailed the letter to the reporter, Mark. I just wanted it to go away.”
She raised troubled eyes to his. “But what was strange, Mark, was that – he didn’t take it. The Englischer reporter didn’t take the letter, or the money. He wrote me back, and told me he’d had it appraised, and that they were holding it for me. He promised to help me sell it.”
She looked down at her hands again. “If only I would – let them write a story about it.”
Mark was frowning, looking out at the horizon as if he saw it on fire. He nodded. “I can see what happened, Mima,” he said angrily. “The Englischer was using you.”
He turned to her, and added earnestly: “There’s more than one kind of greed, Mima. You can be greedy for fame as much as for money. And some people are. They’re sick with hochmut.” He shook his head solemnly. “The Englischer used you, Mima.”
Jemima felt her lower lip trembling – because she knew he was right. Mark had always had more common sense than most people, and he was right. He had seen instantly what she was only just realizing.
The reporter had used her.
Mark’s eyes took on a sympathetic look. “I hope he didn’t hurt you, Mima.”
Jemima looked up at him, and smiled, and shook her head. “Oh, no!” she said stoutly, “the idea! It’s true that he – liked to flirt, but it was very plain that he did that all the time, with every girl he met. Oh, no,” she assured him. “I wasn’t hurt.”
And, she thought to herself, it was true. She wasn’t hurt, at least not anymore. She was angry.
Mark relaxed visibly. He seemed to exhale.
“I’m glad,” he said simply. “I hate to think of you being hurt, Mima.” He reached out and twined his brown fingers in hers.
He looked at her again. “What are you going to do now?”
She met his eyes unhappily. “I don’t know,” she moaned. “I let the Englischer talk me into selling the letter, because I prayed to God, and I thought He was telling me to give the money to people who needed it. So, I am. Doing that, I mean.”
Mark looked at her affectionately. “I figured you would.” He put her hand to his lips. “You’ve always had a big heart.”
His smile faded, and he looked down at the ground. “But until you finish, it gives me a problem, Mima.”
She looked a question, but he didn’t meet her eyes. “I can’t court with a millionaire,” he blurted.
He looked up again. “Mima, you know how I feel, but I can’t. I won’t have people saying, that Mark Christner is tagging after Mima King for her money. I won’t do it.”
Jemima sucked in her breath. Her Daed had been right. She raised her eyebrows, and sputtered: “B-but, Mark, it wouldn’t make any difference. Nothing has changed. I haven’t changed.”
Mark’s eyes took on a keen look, almost like pain. He shook his head. “Yes, you have, Mima. You used to be a beautiful girl. Now, you’re a beautiful millionaire.”
Jemima looked down at the ground, and shrugged painfully. “But I just told you, that – that I never meant to keep it. I mean to give the money away.”
Mark squeezed her hand. “I know, Mima. Tell me when you’re done.” He leaned over to kiss her, and then got up and walked away.
Jemima sat staring at the water for a long time after. She felt as if someone had punched her in the stomach, but Mark hadn’t meant to be cruel. Just the opposite – Mark was just trying to be honest, to let her know that he wasn’t after her for her money. It was noble, and admirable, and good.
And she bowed her head, and cried bitterly over it for well over an hour. Because she knew now that it was only a matter of time before she had this conversation again with Samuel, and even with Joseph. They were Amish boys, they’d been raised right, and they would never let anyone think they weren’t honest.
Especially when it came to love.
After a while her father came down to the lake and settled down in the swing beside her. He put his big arm around her shoulder and let her rest her head on his chest.
Her father looked up at the sky. “He told you he wasn’t going to court with a rich girl, didn’t he, Mima?”
Jemima nodded, and cried: “Why didn’t you tell me, Daed?”
He leaned down and kissed her. “Would that have made it any easier?”
She sniffed, and shook her head.
“No. Well, Mima, you’re just going to have to choose. No decent boy will let people think he wants a girl for her money. None of your pups is going to stand for that, at least, not if he’s worth having. I’m glad that at least one of them proved that he is worth having.”
“Oh Daed,” she replied indignantly, “Samuel and Joseph are too, and you know it!”
He chuckled. “Do I? I suppose. But let them prove it. You know, Mima, all of this may have a silver lining after all. It will show you which of those boys mean business about you, and which love you just for yourself.”
Jemima buried her face in his shirt and nodded. “Maybe so, Daed,” she mourned, “but right now, it just feels awful.”
“I know,” he soothed, and patted her shoulder. “Come inside, my girl, and stop moping out here. We’re in sight of the road. You don’t want to be in the papers again, do you?”
“Oh, Daed!” she cried, but then sputtered out a little laugh.
Her father looked down at her tenderly. “That’s what I like to see. You’re going to be all right, Mima – I promise. Come.”
Jemima took her father’s hand, and let him lead her back up the hill to the house. But she set her mouth into a hard, thin line. There was only one question in her mind:
What was the world’s fastest time, for giving away a million dollars?
Because she was about to beat the record.
THE END
