A Promise for Miriam Read Online Free PDF

spent the last three years suffering through the attentions of people who meant well, both Amish and Englisch. He and Grace had come to Wisconsin to escape that, and he wasn’t going to let one snippet of a girl, even if she was a teacher, stir up that particular nightmare all over again.

Chapter 4
    G race listened to the words of the Loblied , the second hymn of praise sung in every church service she’d ever attended. Though the service was conducted entirely in German, she had no trouble following along. Her grossmammis had taught her well in the old language.
    All of that had been before she’d attended her old school.
    Before she’d learned to stand against the looks of other children—the looks and harsh words.
    Before her family had decided to teach her at home. Years before they had moved to this new place, with its colder winter and different ways. Here in Wisconsin, even the sounds were different in her ears.
    But the words to the hymn—the old language—she recognized and knew.
    Hearing them was like being wrapped in one of her grossmammi ’s familiar worn quilts. Not the new ones packed and waiting in a chest for the next wedding. No, Grace preferred the old ones, with the occasional stain or worn spot. When she was covered with them, she was surrounded by the smells of people she loved—people who loved her.
    That’s what the words of the Loblied meant to her, and though she knew her dad would rather have stayed home and worked in the sad old barn, she preferred being here.
    The voices around her rose in a chorus of sound, and it seemed to Grace as if she were singing with them.
    She didn’t.
    At moments like this, she had to make sure she pushed her teeth together, lest some noise escape that would embarrass her father. The last thing she wanted to do on this day was cause him more hurt. She’d seen by the way he spoke to her that the morning would be difficult enough.
    For her part, Grace liked new things and new people. She even liked the sad barn and the droopy house.
    She had looked forward to church since they had arrived in Pebble Creek eleven days ago.
    But this morning there had been no time to draw a picture and tell him that, so she’d done the next best thing—she’d put her hands on his face and tried to tell him with her eyes.
    He’d seemed to understand, for he’d smiled at her and his eyes had grown crinkly the way they did when the crops grew tall or the rain came down in proper amounts.
    As the song ended and they sat on the long wooden benches brought into the house for the service, Miriam’s mother smiled at her. Grace liked sitting near Abigail. That was the name she was supposed to say—though of course there was no way for her to say it. Abigail smelled nice, like pies and soap and quilts all at the same time. Grace wondered what it would be like to crawl onto her lap, but she didn’t wonder about it for long. Best to push such thoughts away or they would come back to keep her awake late at night.
    Instead, she stared at the tops of her black shoes and thought of her mouse, whom she’d named Stanley. Miriam was reading them a story at school, and it had a boy named Stanley in it. That Stanley was always getting into trouble, but Grace’s mouse seemed to behave well, other than the time he escaped from his box and ran into the kitchen. Her dad had nearly stepped on Stanley then.
    He’d hopped and hollered and Stanley had run for his life.
    Grace smiled at the memory.
    Stanley wasn’t quite as nice as Pepper. Grace had spent a few moments with the dog when she’d first arrived. Her father had looked at her and shook his head no. She didn’t need a voice to tell him what was in her heart—he’d known! A dog would be an amazing thing to own, even if you had to go to the barn to see it. For now, though, she would be happy with Stanley in his box.
    At that very moment Abigail looked down at her. She patted Grace on the knee and smiled.
    Grace could tell that her