Miriam and the Stranger by Jerry S. Eicher

blushing Amish schoolteacher. He hated to admit such a base motive, but the girl gripped his imagination. Her story was absolutely fascinating, but he hadn’t mentioned anything about her in the first article in the planned series he’d e-mailed to his editor last night. Surely the next article would have to have more substance to it, or the editor would be disappointed.
    He knew he wanted to show Miriam the story he had written,and he wanted to see her again. Yes, she was from another world—one he could barely imagine, let alone understand. That first night when he ate supper with the Bylers, he had felt the effects of their lifesyle. The stillness and peace of the house had undergirded their quiet conversation. He’d at first attributed Miriam’s red face to the heat from the stove in the kitchen, but it had been more than that. He was obviously as strange to Miriam as she was to him, but she was perhaps not immune to his charms. That stroked his vanity more than he wished it did. Perhaps that was what drove him to ignore Hilda’s recent texts.
    Oddly, his exposure to the Amish was pricking his conscience about his cavalier attitude toward Hilda and the several girlfriends who had preceded her. He couldn’t imagine Miriam taking up a relationship with the same kind of detachment he showed toward Hilda, a detachment he had always justified to himself. But with Miriam things were different. Although he had no business disrupting Miriam’s life, he somehow couldn’t resist. And his excuse was flimsy. If this kept up he might actually feel some guilt about the way he treated the women who liked him.
    But in the meantime he would stop again at the schoolhouse after he checked on the loose ends Mr. Westree had left him. Miriam would have finished with her schoolday by then, and she’d be alone. He liked that picture. There was something primitive and personal about Miriam’s presence. Her persona was so open and aboveboard, unlike Mr. Westree’s or Hilda’s. What would it be like to date such a girl? He liked that idea too—more than he wished to admit.
    Tyler glanced at the donor list. Westby Tabled’s address was south of Clarita, but he had the time, so he headed in that direction with his thoughts still on Miriam. The whole thing about the two-million-dollar gift still seemed impossible. Was someone not telling the truth? Surely Miriam had been truthful. Her employerfor three years had been a Mr. Bland. He could check on that, just to be sure. That would be easy enough. Newspapers published obituaries. Tyler glanced at his watch before he pulled over into a cattle lane. He turned off the engine and pulled up the Internet feed on his iPad. He searched and found the website for the largest newspaper in Sugarcreek, Ohio. With a broad search of five years and the last name Bland, two obituaries came up. One of them was for a thirty-five-year-old man. The other matched Miriam’s description, and the only surviving relative was a sister, Rose.
    Well, what did you expect , Tyler asked himself, that Miriam would lie?
    Clearly Miriam was as honest as she appeared. He wanted her to be wrong about something. Underhanded or devious was too much, but a little flaw in Miriam would make him feel better for some odd, unexplainable reason. Then perhaps his fascination with the woman would end. But since nothing like that appeared likely, could he possibly ask her out? On a dinner date? Did the Amish even do that? No, he was sure they didn’t. Even if she said yes, it would likely get her into some kind of trouble with the community. He had learned enough about the Amish to know that much anyway.
    Miriam would rebuff his advance, Tyler was certain. And there would go what little access he had to her. The thought troubled him more than he wished. No, he would be the perfect gentleman. He would see her again only after he had visited the offices of Westby Tabled, though in his present frame of mind he probably couldn’t focus