Love Inspired June 2021--Box Set 1 of 2 Page 8

  Amos nodded and gave his grandmother a rueful look. “Yah, Mammi, she was.”

  “Did you tell her that?” Mammi raised her eyebrows.

  “I—” Had he said it in so many words? “I told her that they paid.”

  “That didn’t sound like a grateful spirit inside there,” Mammi said.

  So she had heard. He felt his face heat. “Did you all hear that?”

  “Yah, I’m afraid we did,” Mammi said softly. “I won’t lie to you, Amos.”

  Amos scrubbed a hand over his beard and looked in the direction that Jeremiah Miller had gone. The boy looked over his shoulder, then picked up his pace. Amos felt a wash of shame. He had no business arguing with Miriam like that—even if she saw him as beneath her. What must young Jeremiah think? And very soon the Millers would be discussing what happened here today.

  “I’m sorry about that, Mammi. Miriam and I—” He cleared his throat.

  “You know how to pluck each other’s last nerves,” Mammi said. “I know, dear. I don’t mean to make this harder on you. You are a calm and sweet man, and Miriam might be the only woman capable of getting a rise out of you.”

  “She might be,” he agreed, and he looked at his grandmother in misery. “What do I do with her?”

  “You might get further if you stopped insulting her late father,” Mammi said frankly.

  “I’m not insulting him—” Amos started.

  “You are,” she said. “Leroy Schwartz may have been a difficult man, and I know that he did nothing to help you and your wife reconcile. He was proud—forgive me for pointing it out—but he was also her daet. And she isn’t going to see his faults, especially now. How do you think it helps to point out the things that hurt her most?”

  Amos sighed. He had every reason to resent her late father. Leroy had been obstinate and had encouraged his daughter to stay away from her marital home. He’d expected Amos to somehow raise himself up to a higher level to be worthy of Leroy’s youngest, his much-loved daughter. Leroy had set impossible standards for Amos to achieve in order to gain his respect, and that had left Amos angry and resistant. But that adored daughter would see her father differently.

  “Your mamm and daet struggled to get along, too,” Mammi said. “Your daet was not a gentle man. But you aren’t like him—”

  “And Miriam isn’t like my mamm, either,” he countered.

  “No, she isn’t,” Mammi agreed. “Still, growing up you didn’t have a good example of a happy marriage at home. I don’t know why your daet was so hard on your mamm. Your grandfather had many a stern discussion with him about it, too, I can promise you. It wasn’t right, Amos.”

  “I know that,” he said, feeling a rise of defensiveness. “I know that better than anyone. Do you think I want to end up like my parents?”

  “Of course not,” Mammi sighed. “May I give you some advice, Amos?”

  “It couldn’t hurt,” he replied, his voice tight.

  The last thing he wanted was to end up like his father. His father was the one who made their home so nervous and unhappy—he’d been clear on that all this time.

  “Be the change you want to see in your relationships,” Mammi said softly. “It feels ever so justified to point out where someone else is going wrong, but dear boy, you have to look at the plank of wood in your own eye first. And we all have one. So treat your wife with the consideration you would like her to give you.” Mammi smoothed her hand over the blanket on her lap. “I was married for a good many years, Amos. I know that it works.”

  “Was Dawdie ever difficult?” Amos asked. “Like my daet was?”

  “Sometimes, but not for long,” she said, and she smiled over at him. “In a long marriage, people learn how to bring out the best in each other. We’re all capable of sinking to our worst, Amos. But with a husband and wife, they have to learn how to find the best in the other and draw it out. Because we’re all capable of goodness, too. And maybe we need to be willing to let someone draw out the best in us, too, or you just get caught in a stubborn circle. That was a lesson in life that your daet never took to heart.”

  And maybe that was the secret to the next few weeks. Amos needed to change his approach to Miriam. He needed to be a better man.

  “I’ll try, Mammi,” he said. “Thank you for the advice.”

  Mammi smiled and held out her hand. “Help me up. We should go inside now.”

  Amos rose to his feet and took his grandmother’s frail hand. He steadied her as she stood up, and put an arm around her to help support her weight.

  “The food smells wonderful,” Mammi said. “Miriam has worked hard. Don’t forget to acknowledge that.”

  “I won’t forget, Mammi,” he said with a faint smile.

  * * *

  Mammi ate very little at dinner, but she beamed in appreciation of the whoopee pie for dessert. She took a small bite and nodded her thanks, but she didn’t eat much more than that.

  “I’m ready to take my medication and go bed now,” Mammi said. “I hope you two don’t mind.”

  Miriam helped Mammi to change, and then Amos lifted her into bed. He sat on the edge and read some of her favorite passage from the Bible while her eyes drifted shut.

  “‘The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name’s sake—’” He paused and looked down at his grandmother’s slow breathing. She was asleep, but this next verse was for his own comfort. “‘Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me...’”

  Mammi looked peaceful in her slumber, and he closed the Bible and put it down on the bed next to her.

  Gott, be with my grandmother, he prayed, and he rose to his feet and headed out of the front room, now dim with the shut curtains, and went through the hallway to the kitchen. All was silent and still. The dishes were done, the table cleaned off and the scent of dinner still hung in the air. He spotted the open bakery box on the end of the table—there was one whoopee pie left.

  Amos closed the box and carried it with him outside. Mammi had been right—he needed a better start with Miriam this time around. These few weeks together didn’t have to be misery. They could respect each other, and maybe Miriam felt disrespected by him, too.

  He let the side screen door clatter shut behind him, and as he walked around the side of the house, he saw the chains of the porch swing moving back and forth before he spotted Miriam behind a veil of lilac bushes.

  Had she come out here to avoid him? And if she had, did he blame her?

  Amos cleared his throat as he came around to the front of the house, and Miriam stopped swinging.

  “There’s a whoopee pie left,” he said, holding up the box.

  “You go ahead,” Miriam said. “I don’t mind.”

  “Do you want to share it?” he asked.

  Miriam’s cheeks pinked. “It’s okay, Amos. You don’t have to smooth things over with me.”

  “I think I do,” he countered. “I haven’t been entirely fair to you. Mammi pointed that out, for the record. And she was right. I’m being hard on you for things you had no control over.”

  Amos came up the steps and Miriam moved over on the swing.

  “If you come with dessert, you can sit,” she said with a small smile.

  Amos sat down next to her and they resumed the slow swinging. He opened the box and held it out to her. Miriam broke off a piece of the whoopee pie and, using one hand to catch crumbs, she took a bite.

  Amos did the same—and finally the dessert felt like the treat it was supposed to be.

  “I was being sensitive,” Miriam said quietly. “My daet didn’t leave me anything to run. You don’t know how that feels. He left it
all to Japheth, and left me nothing. After working with him more closely than my brother did!”

  “Really?” Amos looked over at her. “I thought Japheth—”

  “Oh, Daet let him oversee a few businesses himself,” Miriam said. “So I guess there is that. But I was the one who was at Daet’s side. I went with him when he checked on his management, and I went over financial statements with him, and double-checked numbers from the bank. I was the one listening to all of Daet’s advice. I was there.”

  “I didn’t mean to rub that in,” Amos said.

  “I know...” She took another bite. “But I’m sensitive about it, all the same.”

  Amos nudged her arm with his. “I’m sorry he did that.”

  “Thank you.” She took another small bite.

  “Do you remember that first meal we had when we got married?” he asked.

  Miriam’s gaze flickered up to meet his. “I thought you’d forgotten.”

  “Of course not,” he said. “Whoopee pies were your favorite, and I wanted to make you happy. That’s why I bought them this time—you and Mammi both love them and I hoped that it would... I don’t know...make us all feel some happiness.”

  “It was thoughtful,” Miriam said. “I had a tough day today.”

  “You had a victory today,” he replied. “I should have thanked you properly for your help with that big order. You were right about them. If I’d done it my way, I would have lost money. So thank you.”

  Miriam smiled. “You’re welcome. Am I allowed to mention that my daet taught me that?”

  “You already did mention it earlier, and I’d rather not get into it again,” he said, and he laughed softly. “Miriam, you can take the credit for having seen a situation that needed a different approach. That was you.”

  Miriam nodded. “I know you didn’t get along with him, Amos, but I miss him. He might have been gruff and ornery, but never to me. He was always kindness and patience with me.”

  Even old Leroy could be softened by his youngest daughter, it seemed.

  “It must still be a very fresh grief,” he said softly.

  “Yah. Very fresh,” she whispered.

  “I’m so sorry for all you lost when your daet died,” Amos said. “I know how you loved him.”

  Miriam’s chin trembled and she looked away to hide her emotion, but she didn’t need to do that with him. He was her husband, after all, and if she couldn’t cry over her father’s death here, then where could she do it?

  Amos reached out and took Miriam’s hand in his. He ran his thumb over the tops of her fingers and then gave her hand a gentle squeeze. She squeezed his hand in return.

  “No one loves you quite like your daet does,” Miriam said, her voice thick with emotion. “I feel almost...orphaned.” She pulled her hand back and wiped her cheeks with the palms of her hands.

  Amos had lost his parents young, and that adrift feeling of not having a mamm and daet here in the land of the living to encourage him and be proud of him had never quite gone away. But he’d never had a warm relationship with his own father, so maybe he was envious that she’d had that.

  “I know I’m not quite what you wanted, Miriam,” he said. “I know our relationship isn’t any kind of ideal, Amish or English. But I want to make things easier for you—for what I’m worth.”

  And he meant it. They might end up with a strange friendship forged over years of supporting each other from a distance, but he would always be her husband—for the rest of their lives.

  * * *

  Miriam took another bite of the whoopee pie, and the sweet cream mingled with chocolate cake. White paint flaked off the porch floor where her shoes touched, and she let her gaze move out to the freshly mown yard with the neat rows of grass clippings. She loved this scent—one she hadn’t stopped to enjoy in far too long. She’d always been so busy with Daet.

  It was strange to be swinging with Amos like this...almost like a regular married couple, enjoying a springtime evening after dinner. Maybe she’d spent so much time with Daet because she’d been able to avoid seeing other happily married couples, like Japheth and his wife, Arleta. Being with Daet let her forget what she was missing out on, because he’d always been peculiar, and he’d never remarried.

  “You can have the rest,” Miriam said, nudging the box in Amos’s direction. He took the last piece of whoopee pie, and for a moment, they ate in silence.

  “There has to be a way for us to be happy,” Amos said.

  She shot him a wary look.

  “Not living together,” he clarified. “I mean... No one else is going to understand our arrangement, but there has to be a way that we can be friendly toward each other and both live the life that gives us the most contentment.”

  “So what would be different than what we’ve been doing the last ten years?” she asked.

  “Maybe we could...stay in touch?” He looked over at her. “Write letters. Visit from time to time. I do wish you well. I wouldn’t mind seeing your strip mall in Edson one day.”

  Did he mean it? Sitting here with him on this swing, it almost felt possible that they could have some sort of workable relationship that kept them friendly.

  “Maybe we could try that,” she said.

  “I don’t want to see you unhappy, Miriam,” he said quietly. “Especially not because of me.”

  “I’m okay, Amos—”

  “No, it’s more than that,” he said. “I never told you much about my daet because he didn’t match up to yours...at all.”

  “Oh?” She felt her breath catch. It was true, he’d never spoken much about him. But he’d passed away when Amos was a boy, and she’d assumed that was the reason.

  “My daet believed that the Bible was the answer for everything,” he said.

  “It is,” Miriam said frankly.

  “But the Bible doesn’t mention every single thing that a person might encounter,” Amos said. “There might be situations where we have to extrapolate an answer from the Bible. My mamm was depressed. I don’t mean she felt blue or a little moody sometimes. I mean that she struggled with feelings so miserable that she would take to her bed for a week at a time.” He licked his lips and glanced over at her. “One winter, when she was in one of her bad stretches, she wandered out into a snowstorm, and she would have frozen to death out there if Daet hadn’t gone after her.”

  The thought chilled her, and they stopped rocking. He’d held all of this inside?

  “You were embarrassed to tell me?” she asked.

  “Mamm and Daet were already gone,” he said. “And quite frankly, I didn’t want to give you anything more to look down on than you already had.”

  Miriam blinked at him. “Amos, I wouldn’t have looked down on you.”

  “You already did,” he said. “But I don’t want to argue about that. The point is, my mamm suffered from depression, and after that snowstorm my daet brought her to a doctor. The doctor prescribed some medication, and when Mamm took it, she felt a lot better. She was more like herself. She’d get up and cook meals and talk to us about our days at school. She’d mend our clothes, and plan for the weekends.”

  “So, it helped,” Miriam said.

  “It did,” he said. “The problem was, my daet didn’t like the idea of the medication. He said if taking some pills made her act normally, then she could act normally without them. He said she should pray more and try harder. So he took the pills away.”

  Miriam frowned. “That sounds cruel. If a doctor said—”

  “We don’t agree with everything an Englisher doctor says,” he said. “And Daet drew a line. I often thought it was the expense—they had to pay for every bottle of them, and if Mamm needed them daily, well, that would add up. Anyway, Mamm stayed off her medication for a long time. She struggled through her sad times, and she did her best to keep taking care of us when she w
as so unhappy that I was afraid she’d go walking out into a storm again. But I’d seen what life could be like when she took those pills, and it was wonderful! It was happy in our home again... But Daet wouldn’t allow her to do the one thing that would make her happy.”

  Amos looked over at Miriam, sadness swimming in his dark gaze.

  “Oh, Amos...” she murmured.

  “I promised myself I’d never do that to a woman,” he said softly. “I told myself that I’d never stand between my wife and happiness.”

  Miriam’s breath caught. “You don’t!”

  “I’m glad. I want you to be happy, Miriam. And even if what it takes to make you happy goes against my view of what ought to be, or how things ought to work, I won’t stand in your way.”

  Miriam felt a welling of sympathy for her estranged husband. There was so much he’d never told her...so much she’d never even imagined lay beneath the surface. She slipped her hand into his warm, calloused grip.

  “I appreciate that, Amos,” she said.

  His hand tightened around hers, and they started to swing again, back and forth, his strong hand moving gently over her fingers. He was a handsome man, and sitting here holding his hand, she could imagine so much more between them... But that would be selfish of her. She knew her true personality, and she knew how little Amos wanted her meddling in his carpentry shop. Some respect and sympathy between them didn’t change who they were at heart.

  In a way, it was easier to resent him than to respect him, because then she had to admit how much she was missing out on with this marriage—how much she was letting go. What must the other women in the community, like Fannie, think of her now?

  “Are people talking about us?” she asked.

  “A few,” Amos replied.

  She nodded. “I saw Fannie Mast on the way home today.”

  “Oh?” He looked over at her. “You two used to be good friends.”

  “Sometimes I think that Gott might be trying to teach me some humility, Amos,” she said quietly. “Of all the things I was proud of, Gott has stripped them away. I was proud of my family, and my daet is dead. I was proud of our businesses and our ability to grow them successfully, and they have all been left to my brother if I don’t find those papers. And once, years ago when I was young and idealistic, I was proud to have a husband.”