A Merry Heart by Wanda E. Brunstetter

her. “And you know the rest of the story.”
    Miriam’s cheeks warmed. It had been so long since any man had looked at her the way Nick was looking at her now, and she’d forgotten how pleasant it could feel. With her heart aching so, his attention was like a healing balm. Nick had actually made Miriam forget her grief for a few brief moments, and she appreciated it. “Do—do you live in Lancaster alone, or are you—?”
    “Married?”
    She nodded, wondering what had caused her to be so bold or why she cared whether he was married or not. She felt confused and frightened by the feelings he generated in her, and she quickly pulled her hand out of his, nervously reaching up to straighten her head-covering.
    Nick laughed. “No, I’m not married. It’s not that I have anything against the state of matrimony. Guess I’ve just never met a woman who captured my heart enough to make me want to settle down and start a family.” He winked again. “Of course, any woman who could put up with me would have to be a real gem.”
    Miriam smiled in spite of her sadness over losing Papa. “I think I should get back to the hospital now. My family might think I’ve deserted them.”
    Nick nodded with a sympathetic expression.
    “Thank you for your kindness. I do feel a little better after talking to you, but I know the days ahead will be difficult ones.” She gulped as a new realization swept over her. “I—I don’t know how we will manage without Papa.”
    “I suspect you’ll get through it, Miriam. I don’t know you well, but I get the feeling that you’re a strong woman—one with a determined heart.”
    She nodded. “My three brothers will help out, and Mom won’t have to support herself. Of course, I’ll be there to help with some money, too.”
    “I don’t imagine an Amish teacher makes much, though.”
    The magic of the moment was suddenly gone, and Miriam’s mind came back into proper focus. This man was a reporter. He didn’t care about her as a person. He probably just wanted to satisfy his curiosity. “I make enough,” she muttered.
    “I meant no harm in asking about your wages,” Nick said, lifting one hand as though asking for a truce. “I was only trying to show my concern for your situation, and I was about to say that if there’s ever anything I can do to help you or your family, feel free to call my office at the newspaper.”
    “It’s kind of you to offer,” Miriam said, her voice softening some, “but—”
    “You’re not willing to ask favors of a worldly English man?”
    “It’s not that—I do appreciate your offer,” she stammered. “If I should ever need your help, I’ll let you know.”
    Nick smiled as she stood. “Guess I’d better pay for our eats; then I’ll walk you back to the hospital.”
    “Really, there’s no need for that. I can find my own way.”
    “Have you forgotten that I have an interview at the hospital? I was going in as you were going out.”
    “Okay.”
    The walk back to the hospital was silent. When they entered the building, Miriam turned to Nick and said, “Thanks again for your kindness.”
    “It was my pleasure, Miriam.” He turned toward the information desk, then looked back again. “Don’t forget my offer of help should you ever need a listening ear. Just call the
Daily Express
and ask for Nick McCormick.”

T he three days following Papa’s death were difficult to get through. After the funeral director had done what was necessary to prepare the body for burial and had returned it to the Stoltzfus home, Miriam and her family dressed Papa in his burial clothes. For the next three days, friends and family came to the home for the viewing.
    That had been difficult enough, but Miriam wondered how she would ever get through Papa’s funeral. She had never lost anyone so close to her before. When Grandma Gehman died, Miriam had only been five years old. Grandpa Gehman, who had moved to Illinois shortly after his wife’s death, had passed