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Communication: I am not a mind reader; sadly, while I can interpret a lot of things being a cop; if you tell me what you want, I will make it happen. I will also tell you what I’m thinking and what I want.
I send off the email and pray that Lloyd knows what the hell he’s doing.
Prologue
Miriam Yoder
I just watched Sadie get married, and now I’m mingling at the first non-Amish party I’ve ever been to. It’s fun. Lots of fun. Jasper’s ranch hands are attractive and attentive, neither of which is something that I’m used to. Back in Ohio, a place I’ll never think of as home again, I was engaged to be married to a man four times my age of nineteen. Eli Peterscheim has one foot in the grave. His grandchildren are older than I am. I never could have lain with him. Just the thought of his liver-spotted hands on me makes me want to vomit. I wasn’t expecting a god of a man to offer for me because looks mean nothing to me, but someone near my age would have been nice. Someone to grow old with, not someone to bury and then be alone for the rest of my life.
My mother, bless her, told me I was lucky he even offered for my hand. Since no one else had, I should be grateful. I should get down on my knees and thank God that he did. She even went so far as to tell me that my father accepted the offer on my behalf because the man needed a nursemaid, not a wife, and I was perfect for that because I was too plump and homely to marry anyone else. He essentially condemned me to be alone for the rest of my life because women in our order were not permitted to marry more than once, while men could remarry again after their wives' deaths. It wasn’t fair. I also wouldn’t say I’m homely, which we all know is code for ugly; just because I’m a bit bigger than most of my sisters doesn’t mean I’m ugly. I’ve seen my reflection in glass windows, and I can see the curves on my body. I also saw how men in Millersburg looked at me. The lust in their eyes was welcome. I’m a bit of a wanton, but my virtue and all that comes after is just for my husband, whoever he is. I wrote a response to the same ad Sadie did, but so far, no responses have come my way.
I know I’m too gluttonous as well as a wanton, as Mam liked to remind me every time I ate something, which was often because I love to cook. Food is meant to be experienced and isn’t just for nourishment. I am a little bit braggy, too, because my food is so good. Everyone says so.
I was so glad when Sadie came up with this scheme. I had to get out of there, but I never would have left without my sisters. I’m the chameleon of the group. I can be whatever anyone needs me to be, and I actually thrive on that.
I am talking to Pete, a ranch hand, when suddenly Sadie’s voice rings out in the room.
“Girls!” she calls. I excuse myself and make my way over to Sadie. She’s talking to the pastor that married her and another man. “Okay. Left to right: Rachel, Ada, Miriam,” she says, pausing when the other man makes a kind of grunting noise. I shake hands with the pastor and then the other man. When his hand touches mine, I look up, and our eyes meet. Time stops. I can’t hear any noise anymore. Nothing but the sound of my heart beating and another thudding sound. I literally forget how to breathe; when I finally remember, I suck in a huge gulp of air and almost choke on it. The man whose eyes or hand hasn’t left mine smiles. The amusement reaches his dark green eyes. I realize this must have only taken seconds because I can hear Sadie continuing the introductions. “Hannah and Lavinia.”
“Hello, ladies. I’m Alton Reed, and this is Paul Reynolds,” the pastor says, but I kind of tune him out.
I am still holding Paul Reynolds’ hand when I notice we are the only ones standing in the corner now. Wait, when did we get into a corner?
I try to move my hand out of his, but he tightens his hold on me, so I try to make polite conversation, though my brain isn’t working properly.
“What do you do, Mr. Reynolds?”
“I’m the sheriff in town, but call me Paul,” he says, finally letting me go.
“Oh, I couldn’t do that, Sheriff.” I say, noticing his badge, gun, and big hat all at once. I’ve seen guns before; the men used them for hunting and protection. However, I’ve never been this close to one. I reach out and touch it. The cold steel in my hand feels ominous. However, the touch is short-lived because he grabs my wrist and pulls my hand away from his waist. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”
“No need to apologize, Miri. It’s natural to be curious. Are you curious about other things as well?” The way he says that makes me think of things I shouldn’t think of. Wanton things.
“Maybe. No one has ever given me a nickname before besides Rachel. She calls me Mir,” I blurt out, causing him to chuckle.
“You don’t look like a Miriam. The only Miriam I know is ninety-three and is way too crotchety to still be alive. You, on the other hand, are young, beautiful, and vibrant. Miri suits you better.”
“Oh… Thank you.” No one has ever said I was beautiful before. No one.
“No need to thank me, sweet girl. What do you do?”
A nickname and a term of endearment? Yes, please.
“Do? Nothing professionally or anything. I finished my schooling last year and had been working with my mother, perfecting my domestic tasks, of which cooking is my favorite.”
“Cooking, you say?”
“Yes. I make the best savory foods, while my sister Lavinia bakes the best.”
“You two should team up and open a restaurant. This town is sorely lacking in that department.”
“You don’t even know if we are any good. I could be lying about my skills.”
“You don’t strike me as a liar, Miri. Are you a liar?”
“No. I’m honest to a fault. It gets me in trouble sometimes. My mouth has a mind of its own,” I say, and he groans softly.
“Did I say something wrong?” I ask, confused.
