A Merry Heart by Wanda E. Brunstetter Read Free Book Online

remained. What she really needed wassomething to clear her head of the dusty cobwebs lingering from her disturbed sleep. Since today was Saturday and there was no school to teach, perhaps she would have a cup of herbal tea, wash her hair, and then go sit by the stream to dry it. Some time alone might do her some good. Papa and Lewis were already out in the fields, and Mom had gone over to her eldest son, Andrew’s, place to help his wife, Sarah, with some baking, so no one would need Miriam for anything.
    While she waited for the water in the kettle to heat, she cut herself a wedge of shoofly pie and took a seat at the table. She liked solitude, and the quietness of the house seemed to soothe her aching head a bit. By the time she had finished eating, the water was hot, so she poured some into a cup and added a peppermint tea bag. After drinking the tea, she went to the sink to wash her hair, using a bar of Mom’s homemade lilac soap. A hint of the perfumed flower tickled Miriam’s nose, and she sniffed appreciatively. She rinsed with warm water, reached for the towel she had placed on the counter, and blotted her hair, being careful not to rub too aggressively, which she knew would only aggravate her headache.
    When she was satisfied that the majority of water had been absorbed from her hair into the towel, she wrapped another towel loosely around her head, picked up her hairbrush from the wall shelf nearby, and went out the back door.
    Miriam found the stream behind their house to be clear and blue, so inviting. She sank to the ground, slipped off her shoes, and wiggled her toes in the sun-drenched grass. At moments like this, she wished she were still a child. Life seemed easier back then, and it wasn’t nearly so painful.
    She reached up and pulled the towel from her head, causing her damp hair to fall loosely about her shoulders. She shook her head several times, letting the sun warm her tresses as she closed her eyes and lifted her face toward the sky.
    Oh Lord
, she prayed,
why must my heart continue to hurt so? I want to be pleasing in Your sight, yet I know that most of the time I fall terribly short. How can I have a merry heart, as Mom says I should, when I’m so full of pain and regrets?
Tears squeezed from her closed eyelids, and Miriam reached up to wipe them away.
    The crackling of a twig startled her, and when she turned, she spotted the lens of a camera peeking through the branches of a willow tree. When she realized it was pointed at her, she gasped and jumped to her feet.
    Nick McCormick stepped out from behind the tree and smiled. “Sorry if I surprised you.”
    “I—I never expected to see you again.”
    He smiled sheepishly. “I can’t believe my luck—it’s the liberated Amish woman I had the privilege of helping to her feet last Saturday. And what beautiful feet they are,” he said, pointing to Miriam’s bare feet. “I had no idea I’d be seeing you again today, either. Especially not like this.”
    Miriam pulled the hairbrush from her apron pocket and began brushing her tangled hair, knowing she must look a sight. “I don’t appreciate you sneaking up on me. And I don’t like the fact that you were taking my picture. I told you last week—”
    “Yes, yes, I already know. The Amish don’t like to be photographed.” His smile widened, and he moved closer to her.
    Miriam’s teeth snapped together with an audible
click
, and she twisted the handle of the hairbrush in her hands. Why did she feel so nervous in this man’s company? “The Bible tells us in Exodus 20, verse 4, ‘Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image,’ ” she explained. “We believe that includes posing for photographs or displaying them for impractical reasons. We also don’t want to appear prideful.”
    “I can see that you’re well versed in the scriptures,” Nick said as he took a seat on the grass. Before she could comment, he quickly added, “And for your information, I photographed several