Miriam's Secret Read Free

smile on her face Miriam put the plate and a glass of orange juice on a tray and walked through the living room to the porch. Mr. Bland would enjoy his breakfast on the porch. If not, she would help him back inside.
    â€œMr. Bland!” she called as she swung open the screen door. “Breakfast is ready.”
    There was no response. Miriam approached him and waited for him to look up. Had he started his morning nap already? She tried again, louder this time. “Breakfast, Mr. Bland! Just as you like it!”
    When he didn’t move, she laid one hand on his shoulder. His body slumped forward. Miriam gasped as she dropped the tray and grabbed for him. The tray clattered to the porch floor. She moved to the front of the rocker and fell to her knees. Her hands were on his now. “Mr. Bland! Mr. Bland!”
    His head slumped lower.
    She noticed he had a slight smile on his face, but the life had clearly gone out of him.
    Miriam took a deep breath and forced herself to her feet. What happened? she wondered. Was she to blame? Should she have not encouraged him to sit on the porch? Had she done something wrong? Why would Mr. Bland die without warning? Tears stung her eyes, and she wiped them away. Now was not the time to give in to emotions. She must do something, but what? Perhaps Englisha doctors could still bring Mr. Bland back—if she called them quickly.
    With another glance at Mr. Bland, Miriam rushed inside to the phone on the kitchen wall. What number should she call? 9-1-1? Isn’t that what the Englisha people used in their times of trouble? Yah , it was. Her hand trembled as she punched in the numbers.
    A woman’s voice answered quickly. “What is your emergency?”
    Miriam choked out, “The man I work for just passed, I think. He isn’t responding. I left him on the porch while I fixed breakfast, and now he’s not…” Miriam caught her breath. “I think he’s…dead.” A lump formed in her throat.
    â€œWhat is your location?”
    â€œCounty Road 135—2945 County Road 135,” Miriam managed to get out.
    A barrage of questions followed.
    Yah , she could leave the phone to check Mr. Bland’s pulse, but she knew there wouldn’t be one.
    The operator assured her paramedics were on the way. In the meantime, could she start CPR?
    â€œI’ve not been taught,” Miriam said almost apologetically.
    â€œHelp is on the way,” the woman repeated. “Stay on the phone with me until they arrive.”
    â€œI’d rather not,” Miriam responded. “I should be out there with him.”
    The woman seemed to understand. Miriam left the phone dangling from the cord and groped her way outside. Sirens would soon fill the air. They would spell out in a language everyone could understand that something had happened to Mr. Bland on her watch. What should she have done differently this morning that might have made a difference? Were there signs she should have recognized that would have told her to summon help sooner?
    The bacon and eggs were still scattered over the porch floor. She ought to clean things up before the Englisha people arrived, but she was too weak to try. And they would understand. Rose would too. Miriam stopped her thoughts suddenly. She had to call Rose! Rose would want to know about her brother. Miriam headed back into the kitchen and lifted the receiver. The 9-1-1operator was still on the line. Miriam blurted, “I need to call someone else. I need to call Mr. Bland’s sister, Rose. She needs to know what’s going on.”
    â€œI can make that call for you,” the 9-1-1 operator said. “What’s the number?”
    Miriam read the number off the note on the kitchen wall where Rose had left it. Miriam had only called Rose a few times in the two years she’d been working for Mr. Bland. It had always been for minor matters. Nothing like this. Rose’s brother had passed over the