doorjamb. “I’m sorry, Miriam.”
Miriam stood up straight and looked at her brother. The pain she saw in his eyes almost cracked the wall of her anger. “Straighten the drawers. And refold Raymond’s clothes too. You owe him that much.”
She marched out of the room and downstairs to the kitchen to make breakfast for the family. Holding back self-indulgent tears, she pulled bacon from the icebox and arranged it in the skillet. Then she whipped up pancake batter and poured four perfect circles into the second skillet. When the batter began to bubble, she tried to turn the pancakes…only to discover that they were stuck like glue. She had forgotten the oil.
Gripping her spatula with white knuckles, she scraped the pan vigorously until the first pancake surrendered its hold on the skillet and folded into a doughy heap. With the half-cooked pancake balanced on her spatula, she walked to the garbage can and flipped the pancake in. Of course, the ruined pancake wouldn’t go quietly. Dough splattered on the wall behind the garbage can and on the floor in front of it.
Miriam slammed the spatula onto the counter, unrolled seven or eight sections of paper towel, and wiped up her mess. About the time she got rid of all the little drops of pancake batter, she smelled burning dough. Jumping to her feet, she snatched the skillet off the cookstove and burned her thumb. She hissed in pain and frustration as she looked at her cooking efforts thus far. Raw bacon and pancakes…doughy on one side, charred to a crisp on the other.
She couldn’t help herself. She burst into tears and cried like a newborn buplie. Tears sizzled on the skillet as she scraped out the rest of the blackened pancakes and tossed them into the garbage.
Mamm must have heard the screeching of metal against metal. She appeared at Miriam’s side, put her arm around her, and gently took the spatula from her hand. “Oh, leibe. You carry everyone’s sorrow in your apron pocket.”
“Everything is all wrong,” Miriam said. “How can everything be so wrong?”
Mamm held Miriam’s chin in her hand “You need to get out of the house, away from our problems. Go. Go take a walk.”
Miriam didn’t argue. She longed for a break from the depressing atmosphere of the house. Because of their troubles, Martha had given her some time off from the quilt shop, but that only served to make Miriam feel isolated and trapped.
“Go. I will see if I can rescue breakfast.” Mamm gave Miriam a half smile and nudged her out of the kitchen.
Miriam retrieved her black bonnet from the hook and practically sprinted out the door. She knew exactly how she wanted to spend the morning.
The walk to Seth Lambright’s ranch took almost a half hour. In her solitude, she found it impossible to think of anything but the dreadful circumstances of her family. Her mind jumped from Susie to Yost and back again, and the closer she got to Seth’s place, the heavier her steps became. By the time she turned into the lane, she felt as if she had an anvil in her chest instead of a heart.
Even though she wanted to see the foals, Miriam dreaded the reception she would get from Seth. Would he lecture her as Ephraim had done? Or gloat over the stuck-up girl’s misfortunes?
What did it matter? She deserved every unsympathetic look or cross word she got.
This time she didn’t knock. She pushed open the stable door and took a tentative step into the dim space.
Seth stood with his thumbs hooked around his suspenders, talking to an Englischer who wore jeans and a green button-down shirt. Seth looked up and flashed a genuine, if tentative, smile. The expression took her breath away. The comfort of a friendly face almost brought forth a fresh bout of tears.
“Miriam, this is my friend Doug Matthews.”
Doug, the Englischer, stepped forward as if he would run her over and took Miriam’s hand firmly in his. “Nice to meet you.”
“I am sorry if I am interrupting,” Miriam said.
Doug shook
Miriam stood up straight and looked at her brother. The pain she saw in his eyes almost cracked the wall of her anger. “Straighten the drawers. And refold Raymond’s clothes too. You owe him that much.”
She marched out of the room and downstairs to the kitchen to make breakfast for the family. Holding back self-indulgent tears, she pulled bacon from the icebox and arranged it in the skillet. Then she whipped up pancake batter and poured four perfect circles into the second skillet. When the batter began to bubble, she tried to turn the pancakes…only to discover that they were stuck like glue. She had forgotten the oil.
Gripping her spatula with white knuckles, she scraped the pan vigorously until the first pancake surrendered its hold on the skillet and folded into a doughy heap. With the half-cooked pancake balanced on her spatula, she walked to the garbage can and flipped the pancake in. Of course, the ruined pancake wouldn’t go quietly. Dough splattered on the wall behind the garbage can and on the floor in front of it.
Miriam slammed the spatula onto the counter, unrolled seven or eight sections of paper towel, and wiped up her mess. About the time she got rid of all the little drops of pancake batter, she smelled burning dough. Jumping to her feet, she snatched the skillet off the cookstove and burned her thumb. She hissed in pain and frustration as she looked at her cooking efforts thus far. Raw bacon and pancakes…doughy on one side, charred to a crisp on the other.
She couldn’t help herself. She burst into tears and cried like a newborn buplie. Tears sizzled on the skillet as she scraped out the rest of the blackened pancakes and tossed them into the garbage.
Mamm must have heard the screeching of metal against metal. She appeared at Miriam’s side, put her arm around her, and gently took the spatula from her hand. “Oh, leibe. You carry everyone’s sorrow in your apron pocket.”
“Everything is all wrong,” Miriam said. “How can everything be so wrong?”
Mamm held Miriam’s chin in her hand “You need to get out of the house, away from our problems. Go. Go take a walk.”
Miriam didn’t argue. She longed for a break from the depressing atmosphere of the house. Because of their troubles, Martha had given her some time off from the quilt shop, but that only served to make Miriam feel isolated and trapped.
“Go. I will see if I can rescue breakfast.” Mamm gave Miriam a half smile and nudged her out of the kitchen.
Miriam retrieved her black bonnet from the hook and practically sprinted out the door. She knew exactly how she wanted to spend the morning.
The walk to Seth Lambright’s ranch took almost a half hour. In her solitude, she found it impossible to think of anything but the dreadful circumstances of her family. Her mind jumped from Susie to Yost and back again, and the closer she got to Seth’s place, the heavier her steps became. By the time she turned into the lane, she felt as if she had an anvil in her chest instead of a heart.
Even though she wanted to see the foals, Miriam dreaded the reception she would get from Seth. Would he lecture her as Ephraim had done? Or gloat over the stuck-up girl’s misfortunes?
What did it matter? She deserved every unsympathetic look or cross word she got.
This time she didn’t knock. She pushed open the stable door and took a tentative step into the dim space.
Seth stood with his thumbs hooked around his suspenders, talking to an Englischer who wore jeans and a green button-down shirt. Seth looked up and flashed a genuine, if tentative, smile. The expression took her breath away. The comfort of a friendly face almost brought forth a fresh bout of tears.
“Miriam, this is my friend Doug Matthews.”
Doug, the Englischer, stepped forward as if he would run her over and took Miriam’s hand firmly in his. “Nice to meet you.”
“I am sorry if I am interrupting,” Miriam said.
Doug shook
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