a respite from the hard work of making homes out of the rough buildings on the farms where they lived.
It hadn’t taken long to get their groceries. The store had only three rows of shelves and was much smaller than the big-box store where Miriam used to shop at in Lancaster County. She hadn’t gone with women friends then, but with Ralph.
Her happiness faded again at the thought of the little boy she’d believed was going to be her son when she married his daed.
“Ach, Miriam, where did you find those oyster crackers?” asked Annie.
“I think,” she replied, “the crackers are in the middle aisle.”
Telling her twin to stay with their cart, Annie sprinted away as if she were as young as the boy with Eli. Two men at the other register followed her with their eyes. Nobody could be unaware of the interest Annie Wagler drew from men, except Annie herself.
“That’s forty-nine dollars and twenty-seven cents,” the cashier said. In a singsongy tone that suggested she repeated the words many times each day, she asked, “Do you have one of our frequent shopper cards? You get a point for every dollar you spend. When you fill the card, you get twenty-five bucks off your next visit. If...” The woman paused. “Do you people use these sorts of cards?”
Miriam smiled at the woman whose hair was the same rich purple as Miriam’s dress. After five months, Englischers around Salem still worried about offending the plain folks who’d moved into their midst.
“Ja... I mean, yes,” Miriam said, wanting to put the other woman at ease. “We’re known for being frugal.”
“Squeezing a penny until it calls uncle, huh?” The cashier laughed as she pulled out a card and handed it to Miriam. “Bring this with you every time you shop.”
“Thank you.” She put the card in her wallet and pulled out cash to pay for her groceries. “Do you take checks here?”
“As long as they are local and have a phone number on them.”
With another smile, Miriam accepted her change and helped the cashier bag her groceries. She put the grocery bags in her cart and walked toward the automatic door. As it swung open, she walked out. She watched a buggy leave the parking lot. It wasn’t a gray buggy like the ones she was accustomed to, nor was it the shape of the black buggy Sarah’s brothers had brought from northern Indiana. Though the departing buggy was also black, it was wider. It had to belong to the Troyers, because when she’d visited a cousin in Delaware, she’d seen similar Amish buggies.
Once their Ordnung was decided, everyone in the new settlement would drive identical buggies. Discussion had begun on the rules for their church district, but nothing had been voted on yet.
Hearing the store’s door opening behind her, Miriam hurried toward the white van. Hank slid aside the door as she reached it. He reminded her of a squirrel with his quick motions and gray hair and beard. He wore a backward gold baseball cap as well as a purple and gold jacket, though the June day was warm. He’d explained the coat was to support the local high school team.
“Find everything you wanted?” he asked.
“And more.”
“Ain’t that always the way?” He looked past her.
Turning, she saw her friends approaching with their carts. Once their groceries were loaded with Hank’s help, Sarah volunteered to return the carts to the store.
Miriam climbed in and sat on the rearmost seat. Leanna sat beside her, leaving the middle bench for her twin and Sarah.
After the van pulled out onto Main Street, they drove past several businesses, including a hardware store separated from the building next door by a narrow alley, a drugstore and several beauty salons and barbershops. Two diners faced off from opposite sides of the wide street. An empty area where a building had burned down five decades before was where a farmers and crafters market was held every Saturday. Miriam looked forward to being able to bring fresh vegetables to sell later in the summer.
They waited for the village’s sole red light to change before turning left along East Broadway. Ahead of them was the old county courthouse, and the redbrick central school sat kitty-corner from it.
“Danki for asking me today,” Miriam said with a smile. “I had a wunderbaar time and got some errands done, as well.”
“We watched you having a gut time.” Annie grinned. “Eli Troyer was intrigued with you.”
“Don’t be silly.”
“Am I being silly?”
The other women shook their heads and laughed.
Deciding not to get caught in a game of matchmaking when she had no intention of making the mistake again of believing a man loved her enough to accept everything about her, Miriam said, “We should do things together more often.”
“I agree.” Leanna sighed. “I miss the youth group we belonged to several years ago at home.”
“Here is our home now,” Sarah said in her prim tone. “We’ve got to remember that.”
Miriam wished Sarah would stop acting as if the twins were kinder. Maybe being around kids all the time, as Sarah was in her job as a nanny, made her speak so. Sarah needed to lighten up. Just as, Miriam reminded herself, she needed to.
“What shall we do for our next outing?” Annie’s eyes twinkled. “We can be an older girls’ club and have fun as the youth groups do.”
Sarah nodded. “Ja, but I don’t like calling ourselves ‘the older girls’ club.’”
“How about if we become a ‘women’s club’?” Leanna asked.
Annie shook her head. “Those are for married women. We aren’t married. We’re... What’s the term? Not old maid. No. There’s another one.”
“Spinster.” Miriam smiled. “Why don’t we call ourselves the Harmony Creek Spinsters’ Club? After all, a spinster is someone who helps take care of a home for her siblings and parents, which is what we do.”
“I like it,” Sarah said.
Leanna grinned as Annie jumped in with, “I like it, too. We’ll be the Harmony Creek Spinsters’ Club, and we can take turns choosing fun things to do together.”
“Until we get married.” Leanna wore a dreamy look. She was a romantic and devoured romance novel after romance novel.
Miriam wanted to warn her not to be so eager to make a match, but how could she when she’d been glancing out the window every few seconds, looking for a glimpse of the Troyer buggy? I’m concerned if the little boy is all right.
She chided herself for telling herself lies. She needed to listen to the advice she would have liked to offer Leanna. A desperation to get married could lead to dreadful mistakes. It was better to trust God’s timing. Maybe if she’d done that, she wouldn’t have jumped to accept the proposal of a man who’d seemed more interested, in retrospect, in having her raise his kind than anything else.
But
