A Promise for Miriam Read Online Free PDF Page B

teacher hadn’t told Abigail about how her voice had gone missing. That’s the way she always thought of it—as if it had disappeared like the tabby cat they had in Indiana. Muffin just walked out into the fields one evening. He didn’t even say goodbye. Grace would sit out on the stoop and watch for him until dark, but her dad said that old cat wasn’t coming back until he was ready—that it might be days or years.
    She figured her voice was the same way. It wasn’t coming back until it was ready.
    One time she had tried to force it back, to make a sound come out. She had been frustrated with her dad that day because he didn’t understand what she was trying to tell him. She’d become cross and tried to make him see. What they’d argued about wasn’t even important.
    It was just about clothes she didn’t want to wear because they didn’t fit anymore. He had wanted her to hurry and dress, but when she’d tried to find something to write on and tell him why she couldn’t, he’d only hollered–and he never hollered. So she’d tried to holler back. What came out sounded like the old squeaky hinge on the barn, only worse and louder.
    She still remembered the look on his face. He’d seemed more afraid at that moment than he had when her mother had died.
    Grace could remember that day too. The day the angels took her mamm with them.
    It was the same day her voice walked away.

    Abigail reached over and squeezed her hand. “Bishop Beiler wants you to join your dat ,” she whispered. “Do you want me to walk with you?”
    Grace shook her head, hopped off her bench, and started toward the front of the room. Then she remembered her Bible. Turning around, she hurried back for it. The Bible was the last thing her grossmammi Sarah had given her. She’d told her to take good care of it.
    She retrieved it from her seat and then rushed to the front of the room.
    The Kings’ home had looked far less crowded from her bench. Once she stood beside her father with her hand in his, it seemed as if there were a thousand people staring at them. Grace was good at math, and she knew there weren’t actually a thousand people, but there were maybe a hundred.
    Her heart started to hammer in her chest like the wings of a baby bird. She looked up at her dad and the bishop, who both seemed unusually tall all of a sudden.
    “I beseech you to pray for both Gabriel and Grace as they find their place within our community,” Bishop Beiler said. His voice was very serious, and when she glanced at him he didn’t smile the way their old bishop did. His words were nice, though, and she could tell he meant them. You could tell when people meant what they said and when they didn’t if you listened close enough.
    “It’s difficult to experience loss in this life, but God doesn’t leave us alone. He brought the Millers to us for a reason. I know you all will be family to Grace and Gabe—a mother to Grace and friends to them both. For we are one community and one family, bruders and schweschders in the faith.”
    Grace couldn’t see Bishop Beiler’s face well. She could see he had a gray beard. She thought the words he said were just right. When she closed her eyes, they washed over her like starlight.
    Since her voice had gone, she’d learned to tell a lot from people’s voices. Bishop Beiler’s voice was very serious. Some kids thought that was bad, but it wasn’t always. Bad was someone whose voice said one thing when their face said another. Bishop Beiler’s voice was solemn—that was a word they had learned in school, but it matched his face. She could see his face now that he’d moved over a few feet. His face and voice matched up, so he was all right with her.
    Now everyone was singing again.
    Grace stood there, wondering what it would be like to sing with them. She sang in her head, but it wasn’t the same.
    Then the service ended and people were coming forward, shaking hands with her father. Some patted her on the head