Miriam’s Little Gentleman (The Heart of the Amish)

Lizzie gasped and spun to look at Miriam. "What? Nee! You can't give me a painting! It's too valuable!"

"Well, I'm giving it to you, unless you want a different one instead?"

Lizzie shook her head, a stunned look on her face. "Nee, that's my favorite.

But Miriam, are you sure?"

"Ja, I sure am!" Miriam pointed out the painting to the gallery owner when he strolled into the room, a small smile playing around his mouth. "I couldn't help overhearing your conversation, and you've got very good taste, young woman. This is one of my favorites as well!" He lifted the small painting down and turned toward the back of the gallery. "I'll just wrap it up nice and safe for your trip home."

Jane had come to stand beside Lizzie and was smiling at Miriam even as Lizzie sputtered her denials at her friend's insistence. "It's too much!"

"Nonsense. I've been waiting for the right time to ask you what painting you'd like for your wedding present. If you think John will also like it, take it! It'll make me very happy to know something I did is giving pleasure to my friends."

Lizzie looked at Jane, who nodded at her. "Take the gift and say thank you, Lizzie. Didn't your maem teach you good manners?"

 

Lizzie looked at Miriam and her eyes filled with tears. She grabbed her friend in a huge hug. "Denki! Denki! Oh, Miriam, I've loved that one since you hung it up. Wait until I show John! But where should I hang it? Up in our private apartment or in the bakery?"

Miriam grinned at her friend, happy she'd accepted the gift. "These are questions, but I'm really hungry. Are you girls ready for dinner?"

"I sure am!" Jane said. Miriam saw her cast one more sad look at the wall where Evening Quiet used to hang, and felt that she too would be happy with her gift.

Mr. Jirles returned with the painting, wrapped and tucked into a cardboard package that would protect it until Lizzie could get it home. He turned and gave Miriam a keen look. "Don't forget the papers. I'll hope to hear from you very soon with a positive response to my suggestions! Now, go eat. You've all gotten me thinking about dinner, and my stomach is rumbling most inelegantly!"

He ushered them out the door, and Miriam heard the lock snick behind them.

"Maybe I should run this home first?" Lizzie clutched the painting to her chest. "I don't want anything to happen to it while we're at dinner!"

"Sure, we can stop there on our way. Hop in."

Lizzie was about to climb up into the buggy when a deep voice called out, "Hello, Cousin Lizzie."

The three women turned to look at a handsome, young, beardless Amish man who was standing a few feet away, his hands tucked awkwardly in the pockets of his black barn coat. For a moment, nobody said anything, and then Lizzie, with a quick squeeze of Miriam's arm, cried out happily, "David! There you are. What have you been doing with yourself? You've been home for weeks, but I haven't seen you since the night you stopped by the bakery when John and I returned from our wedding trip!" Handing the painting to Jane, who stood quietly beside Miriam, Lizzie hurried over and gave the man a big hug before standing back and linking her arm through his and turning to look at her friends. The man looked at them too, his eyes cautious as they met Miriam's.

Miriam did her best to look cool and unconcerned at running into her old crush. But inside, she was anything but.

Oh, sis yuscht! Why did he have to choose today to come see Lizzie? Now I have to try and pretend I don't care that he broke my heart six years ago when he left the morning after I confessed my feelings to him—and then stomped on it again a few weeks ago when he made it very clear he wasn't home for me.

Jane murmured quietly enough that only Miriam could hear, "Miriam, are you oll recht?"

Miriam didn't answer her friend. She could only stare at the auburn-haired, blue-eyed man looking back at her, an unreadable expression on his face. They'd spoken briefly when they'd run into each other a few weeks earlier at the bakery, but when he'd told her he hadn't come home for her, she'd beelined it out of there as fast as she could get away. Other than that, she hadn't seen or heard from him in six long years—not since the night she'd offered him her heart, and he'd broken it into a million pieces when he told her he had nothing to offer her before turning and walking away. The next morning, he'd left for Indiana on a Greyhound bus and hadn't been back since.

***