Miriam's Heart. Emma Miller

collected Mam’s and Irwin’s dinner buckets and handed them out. “Have a good day.”

      “Good day,” Irwin mumbled through a mouthful of sausage and pancake as he dodged out the door. “Watch Jeremiah, Susanna!”

      “I will,” she called after him, obviously proud to be given such an important job every day. “He’s a good dog for me,” she announced to no one in particular.

      “Don’t forget to meet me at the school after dinner with the buggy.” Mam tied her black bonnet under her chin. “Since there’s only a half day today, we’ve plenty of time to drive to Johnson’s orchard.”

      “I won’t,” Miriam answered. Their neighbor, Samuel Mast, who was sweet on Mam, had loaned them a driving horse until Blackie recovered from his injuries. They’d have apples ripe in a few weeks here on the farm, but Mam liked to get an early start on her applesauce and canned apples. The orchard down the road had several early varieties that made great applesauce.

      Once their mother was out the door, they continued the hearty meal. Miriam had been up since five and she suspected that Charley had been, too. They were all hungry and it would be hours until dinner. Having him at the table was comfortable; he was like family. Everyone liked him, even Irwin, who was rarely at ease with anyone other than her Mam and her sisters.

      The only sticky moments of the pleasant breakfast were when Charley began to ask questions about John. “You say he’s coming back today?”

      Miriam nodded. “The stitches need to stay in for a few days, but John wants to have a look at them today.”

      “He thinks he has to look at ’em himself? You tell him you could do it? I know something about stitches. We both do.”

      “He likes Miriam,” Susanna supplied, smiling and nodding. “He always comes and talks, talks, talks to her at the sale. And sometimes he buys her a soda—orange, the kind she likes. Ruffie says that Miriam had better watch out, because Mennonite boys are—”

      “Hard workers,” Ruth put in.

      Susanna’s eyes widened. “But that’s not what you said,” she insisted. “You said—”

      Anna tipped over her glass, spilling water on Susanna’s skirt.

      Susanna squealed and jumped up. “Oops.” She giggled. “You made a mess, Anna.”

      “I did, didn’t I?” Anna hurried to get a dishtowel to mop up the water on the tablecloth.

      “My apron is all wet,” Susanna announced.

      “It’s fine,” Miriam soothed. “Eat your breakfast.” She rose to bring the coffeepot to the table and pour Charley another cup. “I heard your father had a tooth pulled last week,” she said, changing the conversation to a safer subject.

      After they had eaten, Miriam offered to help Charley unload the hay, but he suggested she finish cleaning up breakfast dishes with her sisters. A load of hay was nothing to him, he said as he went out the door, giving Susanna a wink.

      “What did I tell you?” Ruth said when the girls were alone in the kitchen. “People are beginning to talk about you and John Hartman, seeing you at the sale together every week. He’s definitely sweet on you, even Charley noticed.”

      “I don’t see him at Spence’s every week,” Miriam argued.

      Ruth lifted an eyebrow.

      “So he likes to stop for lunch there on Fridays,” Miriam said.

      “And visit with you,” Ruth said. “I’m telling you, he likes you and it’s plain enough that Charley saw it.”

      “That’s just Charley. You know how he is.” Miriam gestured with her hand. “He’s…protective of us.”

      “Of you,” Anna said softly.

      “Of all of us,” Miriam insisted. “I haven’t done anything wrong and neither has John, so enough about it already.” She went into the bathroom and quickly braided her hair, pinned it up and covered it with a clean kapp.

      When she came back into the kitchen, Anna was washing dishes and Susanna was drying them. Ruth was grating cabbage for the noon meal. “I’ve got outside chores to do so I’m going to go on out if you don’t need me in here,” Miriam said.

      Ruth concentrated on the growing pile of shredded cabbage.

      Miriam wasn’t fooled. “What? Why do you have that look on your face? You don’t believe me? John is a friend, nothing more. Can’t I have a friend?”

      “Of course you can,” Ruth replied. “Just don’t do anything to worry Mam. She has enough on her mind. Johanna—” She stopped, as if having second thoughts about what she was going to say.

      “What about Johanna?” Miriam didn’t think her sister Johanna had been herself lately. Johanna lived down the road with her husband and two small children, but sometimes they didn’t see her for a week at a time and that concerned Miriam. When she was first married, Johanna had been up to the house almost every day. Miriam knew her sister had more responsibilities since the babies had come along, but she sometimes got the impression Johanna was hiding something. “Are Jonah and the baby well?”

      “Everyone is fine,” Anna said.

      “Later,” Ruth promised, glancing meaningfully at Susanna. “I’ll tell you all I know, later.”

      “I’ll hold you to it,” Miriam said. She thought about Johanna while she fed and watered the laying hens and the pigs. If no one was sick, what could the problem be? And why hadn’t Mam said anything to her about it? Once she’d finished up with the animals, she went to the barn to give Charley a hand.

      Dat had rigged a tackle to a crossbeam and they used the system of ropes and pulleys to hoist the heavy hay bales up into the loft. It was hard work, but with two of them, it went quick enough. They talked about all sorts of things, nothing important, just what was going on in their lives: Ruth and Eli’s wedding, harvesting crops, the next youth gathering.

      After sending the last bale up, Miriam walked to the foot of the loft ladder. Charley stood above her, hat off, wiping the sweat off his forehead with a handkerchief. “I’m coming up,” she said.

      He moved back and offered his hand when she reached the top rung. She took it, climbed up into the shadowy loft and looked around at the neat stacks of hay. It smelled heavenly. It was quiet here, the only sounds the cooing of pigeons and Charley’s breathing. Charley squeezed her fingers in his and she suddenly realized he was still holding her hand, or she was holding his; she wasn’t quite sure which it was.

      She quickly tucked her hand behind her back and averted her gaze, as a small thrill of excitement passed through her.

      “Miriam,” he began.

      She backed toward the ladder. “I just wanted to see the hay,” she stammered, feeling all off-kilter. She didn’t know why but she felt like she needed to get away from Charley, like she needed to catch her breath. “I’ve got things to do.”

      “What you two doin’ up there?” Susanna called up the ladder. “Can I come up?”

      “Ne! I’m coming down,” Miriam answered, descending the ladder so fast that her hands barely touched the rungs.

      Charley followed her. He jumped off the ladder when he was three feet off the ground and landed beside her with a solid thunk.

      “I came to see how Molly is.” Susanna looked at Miriam and then at Charley. “Something wrong?”

      Miriam felt her cheeks grow warm. “Ne.” She brushed hay from her apron, feeling completely flustered and not knowing why. She’d held Charley’s hand plenty of times before. What made this time different? She could still feel the strength of his grip and wondered if this feeling of bubbly warmth that reached from her belly to the tips of her toes was temptation. No wonder handholding