Miriam's Secret Read online

  HARVEST HOUSE PUBLISHERS

  EUGENE, OREGON

  Scripture quotations are from the King James Version of the Bible.

  Cover by Garborg Design Works, Savage, Minnesota

  Cover photos © Chris Garborg; SOMATUSCANI / Bigstock

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  MIRIAM’S SECRET

  Copyright © 2015 Jerry S. Eicher

  Published by Harvest House Publishers

  Eugene, Oregon 97402

  www.harvesthousepublishers.com

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Eicher, Jerry S.

  Miriam’s secret / Jerry S. Eicher.

  pages ; cm. — (Land of promise ; book 1)

  ISBN 978-0-7369-5879-0 (pbk.)

  ISBN 978-0-7369-5880-6 (eBook)

  1. Amish—Fiction. I. Title.

  PS3605.I34M568 2015

  813'.6—dc23

  2014021857

  All rights reserved. No part of this electronic publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, digital, photocopy, recording, or any other—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The authorized purchaser has been granted a nontransferable, nonexclusive, and noncommercial right to access and view this electronic publication, and purchaser agrees to do so only in accordance with the terms of use under which it was purchased or transmitted. Participation in or encouragement of piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of author’s and publisher’s rights is strictly prohibited.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Discussion Questions

  More Books by Jerry Eicher

  About the Author

  Ready to Discover More?

  About the Publisher

  Chapter One

  With almost no effort, Miriam Yoder drove her buggy along the familiar road leading to Amos Bland’s farm. Her horse, Mindy, needed little direction. For the past three years this journey had been part of their routine every weekday morning since Miriam had turned seventeen and answered an ad placed in the Holmes County Budget: “Elderly man in need of daily assistance. Excellent pay,” the ad had said. And, indeed, the pay had been excellent. The Englisha man was a successful farmer. His well-kept farm was one of the most admired in Possum Valley. Later in life he prospered as an investor, wisely using his profits to purchase land that he was able to sell to a local developer for new tract houses.

  When Miriam had showed the ad to her mamm, there was some reluctance to allow Miriam to even consider such a job proposal. The “excellent pay” was what had persuaded Mamm to let her look into it. Still, she’d hesitated when they talked about what the job might entail. Was it true that this man was old? And how old was “old”? Mamm said they wouldn’t consider allowing her to take the job if he didn’t pass inspection. And just to make certain, Mamm had gone along for the job interview. It was only after they’d spoken at length with Mr. Bland and his sister, Rose, that Mamm had grudgingly glanced at her daughter with a look that Miriam recognized as permission to accept the job if it was offered and she wished.

  Rose explained that she had her own business to take care of during the week, but she’d be able to care for her brother on weekends. At night Mr. Bland would be on his own. If she wanted the job, Miriam would only need to work during daylight hours. Rose said the last person had quit three weeks ago, and they hadn’t found anyone suitable until now. Rose glanced at Amos before turning to Miriam. Would she like the job?

  “I’ll take it!” Miriam said. She was ready to say so before the desperate reasons given by Rose.

  Her answer brought pleased looks to Mr. Bland and Rose’s faces.

  “Wonderful!” Rose exclaimed. “When can you start?”

  Miriam smiled. “I can start work whenever you want me to.”

  “Tomorrow then?” Rose asked.

  Miriam agreed. After wrapping up the details and saying goodbye, the two Amish women drove home in their buggy. On the way, Mamm said there would never be an overnight stay no matter how helpless Mr. Bland might become in the years ahead. “Not under any circumstances!” she’d emphasized. “I don’t care how much we need the money or if Mr. Bland’s health declines. I know he appears perfectly harmless, but some things simply aren’t decent.”

  As it turned out, the issue never came up. Mr. Bland remained well enough to tend to himself in the evenings. For most of the day when Miriam was there, he sat in his recliner and looked out the large, front window, occasionally lapsing into naps. Sometimes his mind wandered or his memory faltered, and he would forget Miriam was there. Other times while Miriam was doing household chores or fixing his lunch, she could hear him speaking to his late wife, Thelma.

  As the months flew by, Mr. Bland expressed his gratitude to Miriam. He gave her occasional raises by amounts that made her blush. When she objected, Mr. Bland said, “You’re doing a good job, Miriam. And I can’t take it with me.” He would then smile and return to gazing out the window.

  Mamm raised her eyebrows at times when Miriam brought the checks that reflected the raises home on Friday nights. “What are you doing for the man, Miriam?” she’d tease.

  “Mamm!” Miriam would exclaim. “I just take care of him.”

  And Mamm would say nothing more because the truth was that their family was among the poorest in Possum Valley and needed the money. There was no shame in that either. Mamm and Daett made no attempt to hide the fact. Daett was lame from a farming accident when he was a child, and he walked with a pronounced limp. It didn’t stop him from working his farm, but he needed help. The two oldest boys, Lee and Mark, worked hard too. Even so, there were evenings when Daett’s face was etched with weariness from the extra efforts he had to expend.

  Despite the hardship, there was much the family could be thankful for. For one thing, Mamm and Daett loved each other. That was what mattered—not how much money was in their bank account. Still, the extra money Miriam earned was a help, especially because the Yoder family was continuing to grow. There were ten children now, and another one was on the way. Their ages stretched from Miriam’s twenty years to the current youngest, Tony, who was three. When the baby arrived, there would be eleven mouths
to feed.

  Holmes County was one of the busiest Amish-related tourist centers in America. People came from everywhere to watch the Amish and buy their goods. Daett could make extra money if he’d cater to them, but he didn’t believe the Amish should benefit monetarily from their faith. So he worked harder on the farm and paid the price for his convictions. Daett had high ideals, and Mamm supported him fully. So far the Lord had supplied the needs of the Yoder family, and there was no reason why He wouldn’t continue to provide for them. They would make it with His help.

  For one thing, Miriam’s sister Shirley was seventeen now and had been out of school for three years. She too would take on a job soon, though she probably wouldn’t find one as good as Miriam’s.

  There was the possibility that Shirley might take over Miriam’s duties with Mr. Bland—if Miriam’s life went in another direction. If, say, Ivan Mast asked her home some Sunday evening…and things progressed from there. One thing was certain: Miriam would say yah to dating Ivan at the drop of a hat. They had been sweet on each other all through their rumspringa time—if smiles and winks from Ivan counted. Even though Miriam’s rumspringa hadn’t amounted to much, her heart had taken Ivan’s attention seriously. One highlight had been the three-day trip she’d taken with a group of young folks to Virginia Beach. The others had made sure Miriam and Ivan had moments alone to chat with each other. Ivan hadn’t said anything then about long-term plans. No doubt he had his reasons, she figured. Surely soon he would ask her home after a hymn singing. They were both baptized now. Maybe that was why Ivan had been waiting. Surely another girl hadn’t caught his eye. She would have noticed, wouldn’t she?

  After the turn into Mr. Bland’s lane, Mindy slowed her pace and made her way toward the familiar barn. She stopped and waited patiently while Miriam climbed down the buggy steps. Miriam unhitched Mindy and led her into the barn and then a large stall. Grabbing a bucket from the barn floor, Miriam dipped it into a large bag of oats. Feed for Mindy was another thing Mr. Bland wasn’t stingy about. The horse was downright spoiled with the oats she ate each day. Miriam smiled and poured the grain into the feeding trough. Mindy stuck her snout right in and began to munch happily away. Miriam walked out of the barn, pausing to close the door. She rushed across the yard and into the house. Faint noises were coming from the bedroom, so Mr. Bland must be up. He was an early riser.

  “Bones can’t rest no more,” Mr. Bland would mutter as he came out of the bedroom on some mornings.

  Miriam busied herself with the breakfast preparations. Bacon and eggs were on the menu this morning. It was Mr. Bland’s favorite breakfast besides pancakes, which, if he had his way, he’d have every morning. But Rose had told Miriam, “Absolutely not!” when Miriam had mentioned Mr. Bland’s preference. “One morning a week is enough!” Miriam had served pancakes just yesterday. She turned on the electric stove and studied the soft glow of the burner for a moment. She’d gotten used to the fancy Englisha household gadgets during her time working here. There was the electric stove, the microwave, and the electric washer and dryer. All nice conveniences she never talked about at home. Mamm would worry and wonder how much the convenience was affecting her daughter. Would she one day wish to forsake the Plain community’s ways in favor of an easier Englisha life?

  Miriam straightened her shoulders. That would never happen. She was Amish and would always be Amish. That’s all there was to it. One day she’d become a Amish wife—hopefully Ivan’s!

  Miriam paused to listen. Where was Mr. Bland? He still hadn’t come out of the bedroom. She turned down the burner on the stove and went down the hall to Mr. Bland’s bedroom. She knocked on the bedroom door and called out, “Do you need help, Mr. Bland?”

  A low groan answered her call but was quickly followed by, “I’m okay.”

  “Are you sure?” Miriam waited.

  There was silence for a moment. “Maybe I could use some help with this shirt.”

  Miriam opened the door and entered to find Mr. Bland seated on the side of the bed, dressed except for his shirt that was hanging over one shoulder. A disgruntled look was on his face. “I’m having trouble this morning.”

  “Let me help you.” Miriam lifted his arm gently and brought the shirt sleeve around.

  Mr. Bland sighed as his arm slid in. “Maybe I should just stay in bed all day.”

  “And miss your bacon and eggs? I don’t think so!” she teased.

  He smiled. “You’re awfully cheerful this morning.”

  “I can be a sourpuss if you prefer,” she retorted.

  “I doubt that!” He chuckled. “Although with me, it could happen.”

  “Now, come.” Miriam stepped closer to button his shirt. “No reason for being downhearted. The Lord has made a beautiful day. I’ll help you outside to enjoy it right after breakfast. You can put on your jacket and sit on the porch.”

  He seemed pleased as she finished the last button and helped him stand. “I think I’d like to go out on the porch right now.”

  “Before breakfast?”

  “Sometimes the soul needs feeding more than the body,” he explained. “It’s been a long night, dear. Someday when you’re old, you’ll understand.”

  “Well, if you’re sure.” Miriam took Mr. Bland’s arm, and the two made their way into the living room. He waited while she grabbed his jacket from the rack and slipped it on him.

  “I dreamed about her last night.” His voice hung in the air for a moment.

  Miriam didn’t ask. She already knew. There was only one woman Mr. Bland would dream about—his beloved Thelma. There were pictures of her everywhere in the house. Thelma and Mr. Bland at their wedding. Thelma and Mr. Bland on vacation somewhere with a great range of snow-covered mountains behind them. Thelma and Mr. Bland on a beach with ocean waves rolling in at their feet. Mr. Bland had told Miriam about Thelma soon after she’d started working for him. “She was the most beautiful woman I ever knew. Right near an angel from heaven.”

  Miriam led him toward the front door. “What was the dream like?”

  “I saw her.” A smile spread across his face. “She was young again. Like when we first met, only even more beautiful. Heaven has made her radiant.”

  Miriam opened the front door, and they walked out. She helped Mr. Bland into the rocker. She didn’t know what heaven would be like. Bishop Wagler said one wasn’t supposed to have wild imaginations about such things. But if Mr. Bland dreamed about his frau, what could be wrong with that?

  He sat down and groaned again.

  “Let me get a blanket,” Miriam said. “That chair must be cold.”

  He nodded.

  Miriam rushed into the house and returned with the quilt from the couch. She lifted his arm and helped Mr. Bland stand enough to slide the quilt partly under him. The rest she draped over his shoulders and arms.

  He settled in with a contented look on his face. “It’s a beautiful morning, Miriam. And you are beautiful too. Almost as beautiful as Thelma.”

  Miriam looked away. “You don’t have to say that, Mr. Bland. I’m just ordinary.”

  “Some man will love you someday like I loved my Thelma.” He beamed with pleasure.

  “That’s awfully nice of you to say.” Miriam felt her face flush as Ivan’s handsome face rose in her mind.

  “It’s true!” Mr. Bland’s gaze settled across the open fields. “Don’t ever forget that.”

  “Thank you,” Miriam replied. “I’m going to finish cooking your breakfast now.”

  He said nothing more as she slipped back into the house.

  Chapter Two

  Miriam tended to the eggs—sunny-side up as Mr. Bland liked them—and turned the bacon. Her thoughts drifted back to Mr. Bland’s kind words, though she knew he’d exaggerated considerably—especially the part about being beautiful. She knew she wasn’t that gut looking.

  Her hope rested in the words Mamm often told her: “Beauty is the condition of the soul.” Mamm said the same thing to Shirley, and to fou
rteen-year-old Naomi, and to Dana who was nine. But the truth was that Miriam’s three younger sisters were beautiful in their own right. And seven-year-old Elizabeth and five-year-old Cheryl would be no different.

  Daett didn’t have lots of money, but he had beautiful daughters—if you disallow me, Miriam decided. Was that why Ivan hesitated to ask her home? He’d certainly smiled at her often enough, but perhaps he wanted a beautiful woman as his frau. And that was to be expected, wasn’t it? Didn’t every husband think such things about his beloved? No doubt Daett did of Mamm. Miriam could easily imagine her daett telling Mamm how wunderbah she appeared to him. The words would be spoken with the same tone of love and admiration Mr. Bland used for his beloved Thelma.

  Miriam rubbed her neck, sure that she was flaming red at such thoughts. But Mr. Bland wouldn’t notice when she went back outside. He’d be in the midst of thoughts about his Thelma and the great love he once enjoyed with her. How sweet that Mr. Bland had dreamed of his late wife last night. The Lord must have sent such thoughts to comfort him during his final lonely days on this earth.

  Mr. Bland isn’t dying, Miriam corrected herself at once. That wouldn’t happen anytime soon. He’d had a bad night, that was all. She would make a point of cheering him up today. Maybe she’d cook something special for lunch. She’d ask him what he wanted, but she already suspected what that would be: a bowl of potato soup spiced with pinches of salt and pepper.

  The first time Mr. Bland had shown her the recipe, he’d told her, “Make this for me once in a while, Miriam. Rose won’t do it. I suspect the soup reminds her of what she wishes to forget—the time of great poverty in our youth. Even after I married Thelma we went through some hard times. This soup sustained us. Now the taste of it takes me back to those precious years when Thelma and I were poor but in love. That potato soup kept our bodies and souls together.” His eyes twinkled at the memory.

  Yah, Miriam told herself. She would go ahead and make a bowl of potato soup for lunch. From how Mr. Bland had looked when she left him on the porch, this would fit his mood exactly.