A Merry Heart Read Online Free PDF Page B

the camera bag hanging over his shoulder. She didn’t know why she hadn’t noticed it before. Her body stiffened, and the familiar frown was back on her face. “I have no intention of acting as a tour guide so you can photograph my people. And in case you aren’t aware of this, we don’t pose for pictures.”
    They had reached the market, and Nick dropped the broken bottle into a trash can and opened the door, letting Miriam step inside first. “I’m afraid it’s my turn to apologize, Miriam. In spite of what you say, I am aware that a few Amish people do allow pictures to be taken, especially of their children. I can see that you have your guard up for some reason, and I’ve obviously offended you by asking for your assistance. Please accept my apologies.”
    “It’s of no real consequence. I get my feelings hurt a lot these days,” Miriam said with a shrug. “Good day, Mr. McCormick.” She turned and limped off in the direction of the ladies’ restroom.
I
    Nick watched until Miriam disappeared; then he turned in the opposite direction. He wished she would have been willing to show him around or at least talk to him long enough so he could get some information about her. Was she here to look around? Did she work at one of the places selling hot dogs, hoagies, or pretzels?
    He thought about waiting until Miriam returned from the restroom but decided against it. She’d been anything but friendly during their encounter in the parking lot, so it wasn’t likely that she would be willing to tell him what he wanted to know.
    Not wishing to waste more time, he made his way down the aisle closest to him. English vendors selling craft items and souvenirs ran the first two booths, so he moved on until he came to a root beer stand run by an Amish man with dark brown hair cut in a Dutch-bob. A young girl sat on the stool beside him, reading a book. When Nick stopped in front of their table, she looked up and said, “Would ya like some root beer? My pappy makes it, and it’s real tasty.”
    “Please excuse my daughter. She thinks it’s solely her job to sell our root beer.” The Amish man motioned to the jugs sitting on the table.
    “It looks good, and I might come back for some on my way out,” Nick said, “but right now I’m on a mission.”
    “What’s a mission?” the child questioned.
    “Mary Ellen, never mind. Go on back to your reading,” her father admonished.
    “That’s okay; I don’t mind her questions.” Nick pulled a notebook and pen from his shirt pocket. “I’m a reporter for the
Daily Express
, and I, too, like to ask questions.”
    The Amish man’s forehead wrinkled. “You’re here to do a story?”
    Nick nodded. “I’d like to ask you a few questions.”
    “About the farmers’ market or about the Plain People who are here today?”
    “Both,” Nick said. No point aggravating the man if hewas opposed to him doing a story on the Amish.
    “What do you want to know?”
    “Well, to me and many other Englishers like myself, the Plain life is kind of a puzzle.”
    “In what way?”
    “I’ve heard it said that you Amish want to live separately from the world, yet you integrate by selling your wares right along with the English here.”
    The Amish man nodded.
    “I understand some of your men serve as volunteer fire-men, working in conjunction with the English firefighters.”
    “Jah, that’s true. We’re willing to work with others outside our faith and have congenial relationships with them, but we still remain separate by the plain clothes we wear, our simple transportation and farming methods, and our restrictions on the use of media among our people.”
    Nick grimaced.
Ouch. That last comment was obviously directed at me
. He managed a smile. “We all have a job to do, and mine involves bringing people the news.”
    The man opened his mouth to say something, but an older Amish couple showed up, and he turned his attention to them. “It’s good to see you both. How are you