Free Summer Promise by Marianne Ellis Page B

all her earlier weariness gone. Next to her own home, the farm where Daniel had grown up was Miriam’s favorite place on earth, always filled with the joy and laughter of family life. And the seriousness, too, Miriam acknowledged. Nobody could raise seven children without encountering life’s ups and downs.
    What was the phrase the
Englischer
man who had stopped at the farm stand a couple of weeks ago had used? She could still see him in her mind’s eye, red faced and perspiring. His car had broken down several miles down the road and, for some reason Miriam could not now recall, he’d been without a cell phone. He had stopped at the farm stand, assuming he could call from there, and had been taken aback when Jacob explained that the closest phone was a pay phone in the Brennemanns’ barn.
    A walk in the park. That was it,
Miriam thought.
He said life’s not always a walk in the park
. She remembered how the pronouncement had made her father smile. “Nope, not always a walk in the park,” the man had said, “but that doesn’t mean you can’t stop to smell the roses
.”
When Miriam had protested that they had no roses, the man had given Daed a wink. “So I see,” he’d replied. “Guess I’ll just have to settle for that basket of tomatoes instead.”
    She had felt foolish at the time. But now she thought she could see what the
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man had meant. You could not always predict what life would bring, but you could always try to make the best of it.
    Supper with Daniel’s family might be just what Miriam needed to chase away her dark thoughts.
    I must take something to Amelia,
she thought. Something that would express Miriam’s appreciation for being asked to supper. Something to celebrate both the sweetness and the hard work of family life. Her mind busy with just what this might be, Miriam continued on toward the house.
    * * *
    â€œYour blackberry jam,” Amelia Brennemann exclaimed that evening as Miriam handed her a basket with several jars nestled inside. She had tucked a clean white dish towel around them to keep them from being jostled too hard. “Oh, Miriam, you shouldn’t have, but I won’t say no! Do you know, no matter how many jars of jam I make, I never seem to make enough. I don’t know where the boys put it.”
    â€œHollow legs,” Miriam suggested with a smile.
    She stepped across the threshold and into the kitchen. As was the case in Miriam’s own home, visitors used the front door only for formal occasions. It was the kitchen that was really the heart of the farmhouse. At the moment, the room was filled with the good smells of the summer supper they were all about to enjoy. Amelia’s oldest daughter, fifteen-year-old Elizabeth, was putting the finishing touches on setting the big kitchen table, which was spread with a fresh oilcloth. Lucas’s wife, Annaliese, was keeping an eye on the stove. Her three-year-old daughter, Jane, was right beside her, clutching at her legs, her dark eyes huge as she regarded the newcomers.
    â€œLook who is here, Jane,” Annaliese said as she sent Miriam a warm smile. Annaliese had grown up in a nearby district. She and Lucas had met when Annaliese had attended the wedding of a cousin. They had been married the next winter, just a year after Miriam and Daniel. Miriam and Annaliese had liked each other at once. “Miriam has come.”
    â€œMiriam!” Jane crowed. Miriam knelt and opened her arms. The child catapulted into them. Miriam lifted her up, burying her face in the crook of Jane’s neck. She breathed in the child’s sweet scent.
    â€œYou smell like sunshine, Jane,” she said, trying to ignore the fierce ache of longing that had suddenly reared up to grab her by the throat.
    â€œOutside!” Jane demanded.
    Miriam gave her nose a tweak. “Not now. Now we are getting ready for supper. Are those hands clean? Let me