Miriam's Quilt Read Free Page A

seemed to flicker in her eyes but died. “Denki.”
    “You are welcome. I want you to feel better.”
    With urgency, Susie pulled Miriam toward her. “Miriam, have you ever done something really, really bad?”
    Miriam went cold, and her mind began to race. What had Susie done? Had her sister fallen into wickedness?
    “We all do things we wish we hadn’t,” she finally said.
    “Not you, Miriam. You are perfect.” The sincerity in her voice made Miriam want to blush.
    “Ach, no. None is perfect but God. You should have heard my thoughts on Saturday for a certain ill-mannered young man at the auction.”
    “You are perfect, Miriam.” Susie turned her head away and looked out the window. “I wish I were you.”
    “Why would you ever wish to have my stick-out ears? Or my freckles? You are the prettiest girl in our family.”
    Susie shook her head and started to cry again. “I wish I were you.”
    Miriam rubbed her hand up and down Susie’s arm. “What is wrong?”
    “I—I—I cannot say.”
    “Susie, tell me.” Susie’s idea of wickedness was taking more than her share of butterscotch pie at supper. She was probably feeling ashamed for having an unkind thought toward one of her brothers.
    A tear fell to Susie’s lap. “I am so tired.”
    “Rest. Chicken soup will take a half hour.”
    “Will you put paprika in it?”
    “Of course.”
    In the kitchen, Mamm popped the meat loaf into the belly of the wood cookstove. Miriam pulled a saucepan from the cupboard. “Susie is not feeling well,” she said. “I put her right to bed.”
    Mamm furrowed her brow. “Three days in a row now. I told her she should have stayed home from work.” Mamm wrapped the potatoes in foil, stuck them into the stove with the meat loaf, and went upstairs to check on Susie.
    Miriam chopped carrots and celery and set them to boiling. Then she picked last night’s leftover chicken from the bones and set the meat ready to plop into the water when the vegetables cooked soft.
    Hearing a soft knock at the front door, she left Susie’s soup to simmer and headed to the great room.
    Miriam opened the door to a stone-faced Seth Lambright standing on the narrow porch. He seemed as uncomfortable about seeing her as she was him.
    The corners of his lips turned down slightly. “Your dat said he would leave money for me.”
    No “Nice to see you today, Miriam,” or “How are you?” The boy’s conversation skills were seriously lacking. Of course, he’d made it very clear on Saturday that he’d rather converse with anybody but her.
    “You ’ re a snob, Miriam Bontrager.”
    Why would he scold her, when they’d hardly ever spoken?
    A small envelope lay beside the mail on the small table in the great room with S ETH L AMBRIGHT written across it.
    Miriam snatched it from the table and shoved it into Seth’s hand.
    “Denki,” he said, stuffing the envelope into his pocket. Before she could shut the door on him, he said, “Your dat wants to buy you a horse as a wedding present. The money is a down payment. I have two mares about to deliver. Do you want to come over sometime and pick a foal?”
    The horse wasn’t even born yet? How did Dat know she wouldn’t need a horse for another two years? Ephraim and Dat must have talked behind her back. The thought irritated her like an itchy collar. Her marriage plans were personal. How could Ephraim reveal something that important to her dat without consulting her first?
    Seth waited for her to answer, and the corners of his mouth dropped farther. “You don’t have to make an excuse for my benefit. If you don’t want to come, don’t come. I can choose the foal for you. And in spite of what you think, I know enough about horses to pick a gute one.” Indignation smoldered in his coal-gray eyes, and he turned on his heels and marched down the steps.
    “I wasn’t going to make an excuse,” she said, chasing him down the steps.
    “I wasn’t even thinking such a thing.”
    “Don’t