scrapes and a few moments’ time proved Miriam’s diagnosis to be top-notch. Within minutes, a woman had come out of a nearby house, claimed the cat and she’d promised to take it to her own vet for a thorough checkup. But since the cat was squalling so indignantly and squirming so strongly, John had to agree with Miriam. The cat may have used up one of its proverbial nine lives, but it seemed fine.
“How did you know that it wasn’t hurt badly?” he’d asked Miriam at lunch, over a crab cake sandwich, coleslaw and French fries.
She’d shrugged. “I just knew. Don’t you feel it when animals are sick or dying? When you look into their eyes, you can tell.”
“Not very scientific.”
“Ne.” She’d grinned at him. “But there’s more to caring for animals than the science of it, isn’t there?”
“Are you ever wrong?” he’d asked.
“Only our Lord was perfect. I make mistakes every day.” She’d wrinkled her nose mischievously. “I just try not to make the same ones over and over.”
Her mention of God had made him a little uneasy. He’d been raised in a Mennonite home, and his mother and sister were active in the church. As a boy, he’d attended the youth functions and never missed services, but he didn’t consider himself particularly religious.
“I think you have a gift,” he’d said. “Uncle Albert has it. I’ve seen him treat animals that I’ve thought would be fine. He believed that they’d die and they did. And I’ve watched him deliver a seemingly dead calf and bring it back to life.”
“Not him,” she’d corrected softly. “He may have helped, but it is the Almighty that gives life and takes it away.”
“Maybe. Or maybe the God you have such faith in touches some people, giving them knowledge they wouldn’t otherwise have.”
She’d shrugged again. “We all do our best, John. But we can’t save them all. Some animals have a will to live and get better and some give up. I believe Molly’s hoof will heal. Don’t you?”
He’d been reluctant to answer. The mare’s infection was proving difficult and he’d already decided that he’d ask Uncle Albert to come with him when he made his next visit to the Yoder farm. He hoped his uncle would have some idea as to what to do next, because he knew how much the horse meant to Miriam and her family.
“What would your mother say if she knew you were seeing an Amish girl?” she’d asked, changing the subject and surprising him with her candidness.
He’d chuckled. “Am I seeing an Amish girl? Is this what this is? Or is it two colleagues spending an afternoon together?”
“I’ll have to think about that,” she’d replied as she stole one of his fries, dipped it in ketchup and ate it.
“What about you? Will you be in trouble? If you’re seeing an Englisher?”
“You’re not English, you’re Mennonite.”
“Okay. Will you be in trouble if you’re dating a Mennonite?”
Miriam had nodded solemnly and then smiled. “Absolutely. But this is my rumspringa time. I’ve got an excuse.”
“Rumspringa, hmm?”
“Ya. Don’t you watch television? Some Amish throw off their kapp s and run wild.”
He’d laughed. “So I’ve heard.” And then he’d leaned closer. “Seriously, you should think about what I said. You have a gift for healing. Have you ever thought of going to veterinary school yourself?”
“Thought of it, but it’s impossible,” she’d replied. “So long as I remain in the community, my education is finished. My church doesn’t believe in an English education. We are Plain people.”
He’d wanted to take her hand, but sensed that if he did, she’d retreat from him. Instead, he met her gaze. “But you’re different than the others, Miriam. You don’t seem to be the kind of person to live your life behind walls.”
“Walls to some, maybe,” she’d agreed. “Loving arms to others.”
“I’d like you to meet my sister sometime. I think you’d like her.”
“Is she
“How did you know that it wasn’t hurt badly?” he’d asked Miriam at lunch, over a crab cake sandwich, coleslaw and French fries.
She’d shrugged. “I just knew. Don’t you feel it when animals are sick or dying? When you look into their eyes, you can tell.”
“Not very scientific.”
“Ne.” She’d grinned at him. “But there’s more to caring for animals than the science of it, isn’t there?”
“Are you ever wrong?” he’d asked.
“Only our Lord was perfect. I make mistakes every day.” She’d wrinkled her nose mischievously. “I just try not to make the same ones over and over.”
Her mention of God had made him a little uneasy. He’d been raised in a Mennonite home, and his mother and sister were active in the church. As a boy, he’d attended the youth functions and never missed services, but he didn’t consider himself particularly religious.
“I think you have a gift,” he’d said. “Uncle Albert has it. I’ve seen him treat animals that I’ve thought would be fine. He believed that they’d die and they did. And I’ve watched him deliver a seemingly dead calf and bring it back to life.”
“Not him,” she’d corrected softly. “He may have helped, but it is the Almighty that gives life and takes it away.”
“Maybe. Or maybe the God you have such faith in touches some people, giving them knowledge they wouldn’t otherwise have.”
She’d shrugged again. “We all do our best, John. But we can’t save them all. Some animals have a will to live and get better and some give up. I believe Molly’s hoof will heal. Don’t you?”
He’d been reluctant to answer. The mare’s infection was proving difficult and he’d already decided that he’d ask Uncle Albert to come with him when he made his next visit to the Yoder farm. He hoped his uncle would have some idea as to what to do next, because he knew how much the horse meant to Miriam and her family.
“What would your mother say if she knew you were seeing an Amish girl?” she’d asked, changing the subject and surprising him with her candidness.
He’d chuckled. “Am I seeing an Amish girl? Is this what this is? Or is it two colleagues spending an afternoon together?”
“I’ll have to think about that,” she’d replied as she stole one of his fries, dipped it in ketchup and ate it.
“What about you? Will you be in trouble? If you’re seeing an Englisher?”
“You’re not English, you’re Mennonite.”
“Okay. Will you be in trouble if you’re dating a Mennonite?”
Miriam had nodded solemnly and then smiled. “Absolutely. But this is my rumspringa time. I’ve got an excuse.”
“Rumspringa, hmm?”
“Ya. Don’t you watch television? Some Amish throw off their kapp s and run wild.”
He’d laughed. “So I’ve heard.” And then he’d leaned closer. “Seriously, you should think about what I said. You have a gift for healing. Have you ever thought of going to veterinary school yourself?”
“Thought of it, but it’s impossible,” she’d replied. “So long as I remain in the community, my education is finished. My church doesn’t believe in an English education. We are Plain people.”
He’d wanted to take her hand, but sensed that if he did, she’d retreat from him. Instead, he met her gaze. “But you’re different than the others, Miriam. You don’t seem to be the kind of person to live your life behind walls.”
“Walls to some, maybe,” she’d agreed. “Loving arms to others.”
“I’d like you to meet my sister sometime. I think you’d like her.”
“Is she
Similar Books
