What the Heart Sees

Thomas Nelson

Contents

Chapter One

Seth lived with pain every day. At one time he'd tried toblame God for what had happened, but he knew that wasn'thonest. He had no one to blame but himself.

He winced as he pulled on his trousers, his movementsawkward. Still, just as he did each day, he silently gave thanks toFather God. If people had said to him even six months ago thathe would be grateful to feel pain, that he would praise the Lordfor each twinge and ache, he would have laughed in their faces.But today, the ever-present soreness reminded him that he waslucky to be alive.

He reached for his walking stick—plain, unadorned, butstained and lacquered to a smooth, shiny finish. His older brother,Noah, had made it for him shortly after the accident. The top ofthe stick was straight, so he couldn't call it a cane. Neither wasit overly long, like a traditional walking stick. The knob at thetop reached him at hip level, giving him the perfect amount ofsupport without being unwieldy.

When he first saw the stick, he'd wanted to throw it at hisbrother. Now the gift had become indispensable.

Seth turned at a loud knock at his door. "What?"

"Caleb Esh is here." His father's gruff voice penetrated thewooden door. "You ready?"

Hearing his daed's voice gave Seth pause. Considering theirstrained relationship, he was surprised his father had comeupstairs to fetch him.

"Ya," Seth replied, reaching for his black felt hat, the one heusually wore in cold weather. He'd pick up his coat on the wayout. "Tell Caleb I'll be right down." He heard the thudding ofhis father's work boots against the wood floorboards as MelvinFisher left to deliver Seth's message.

Seth placed his hand on the knob of the door and started toturn it, then stopped. Before the accident he'd never been nervousabout going out. But tonight was different. The Christmassing at the Lapps' home was his first social outing in six months,a time span unheard-of for him. For the last three years, sincehe'd turned sixteen, going out had been a big part of his life. Notthat he had wasted his time on the Amish social circuit. Frolicsand singings and other gatherings had been too tame and toolame. Seth was too cool for that, choosing instead to hang withEnglisch friends. When he was with them he drank. He smoked.

He learned to drive a car.

He ran his fingers over the thin ridge of scar tissue thatstarted from his left temple and cut a straight line to the top ofhis jaw. The facial cut had healed faster than his leg, and farmore quickly than his pride.

Shaking off the raw memories, he twisted the brass knoband opened the door. He'd learned some hard lessons that nightsix months ago, and they had shaped him into a new man. But hecouldn't hide here forever, surrounded by his family. Not onlyhad they accepted what had happened; they'd forgiven him too.

Perhaps not everyone would show him such mercy.

He ignored the sudden stab of low confidence and headeddown the stairs, determined to renew the old acquaintances hehad abandoned in favor of the outside world.

* * *

"I don't understand why you're helping me with this boring taskwhen you could be at the Lapps', having a good time."

Miriam finished putting the plastic binding on a cookbookand looked into her older sister's weary face. The exhaustionshe saw there explained why she chose to spend Sunday nighthelping her sister Lydia. But she would never say so aloud.Since the death of Lydia's husband two years ago, she'd hadenough to fret over without worrying about how tired shelooked.

"I like helping you," Miriam said, a little too brightly. "Ican't think of a better way to spend my evening than with mysister and my niece and nephews."

"I'd believe you, except the kinder aren't even here rightnow." Lydia smirked. "The boys are spending the night with theYoders, and Anna Marie is at the Christmas sing, where youshould be."

Busted.

She had heard her niece use the term on occasion, andMiriam thought it fit her current situation. Pushing up herglasses, she glanced down at the cookbook, pretending to beengrossed in the artwork on the shiny cover.

"You can ignore me all you want, Miriam, but I know thereal reason you're here." Lydia picked up her mug of lukewarmcoffee, took a sip, then frowned. Rising from the table in themiddle of her kitchen, she walked over to the stove, opened upthe percolator, and started a fresh pot.

Lydia's bait was too tempting to ignore. Miriam's gaze shotup, and she watched her sister remove the lid from the metalcoffeepot.

"I already told you why I'm here," she said.

"You told me what you wanted me to hear, not the realreason." Lydia added fragrant coffee grounds to the basket, thenpoured water over them and put the pot on the stove. Withinminutes the kitchen filled with the coffee's comforting aroma.

"There's no other reason, Lydia." Miriam reached for anunbound cookbook. "Besides, if I weren't here, how would youget all this done?"

"I'd manage, God willing." She sat back down at the table."Not that I don't appreciate all the help you've given me. Butyou're spending too much time either here or at the quilt shop.You're nineteen years old, Miriam. You should be enjoyinglife."

"I enjoy life. I like my job, and I have my quilting." Shestarted inserting the binder into the square holes on the leftmargin of the loose pages.

"But what about your friends?"

"I have plenty of friends. A lot of them are just as busy as Iam."

"What about a boyfriend?" Lydia leaned forward, her gazesteady and serious.

"What about Daniel?" Miriam said, eager to switch theirconversation to something else. She suspected that DanielSmucker was the main reason for Lydia's singular focus tonight.Since her late husband's brother had returned to Paradise, hernormally steadfast sister had been out of sorts.

Lydia averted her gaze, but only for a moment. "I'm nottalking about me and Daniel."

"You and Daniel?" Miriam lifted a brow. "What about youand Daniel?"

"There is no 'me and Daniel'."

"But you just said–"

"Stop changing the subject." Lydia sat up straight in herchair and folded her hands on the table. "Miriam, it's time youstarted thinking about your future. There are several availableyoung men in the community. Isn't there at least one you'reinterested in?"

At her sister's last question, Miriam's thumb slipped and slidagainst the sharp edge of the binder, hard enough to drawblood. She put her thumb to her mouth.

Concern suddenly etched Lydia's features. "Do you need abandage?"

Miriam looked at her hand. The cut was tiny, negligibleactually. She shook her head and rose from her chair. "I'm fine.I'll just give it a quick wash."

As she stood over the sink and lathered her hands withLydia's homemade lavender soap, Miriam stared out of the windowinto the darkness of the night. A chill suddenly flowedthrough her, as if the cold outside air had somehow seepedthrough the clear glass pane and entered her body. Lydia didn'twant to talk about Daniel, and Miriam certainly didn't want totalk about men, so she wished her sister would drop the topicaltogether.

At nineteen Miriam was old enough to marry. Several ofher schoolmates had already married or had steady beaus. Butshe remained single. She'd learned her lesson a long time ago.She wasn't about to open herself to ridicule again. Although shewas expected to get married and raise a family, she wasn't in anyhurry to do so. At least she tried to tell herself that.

Trouble was, her heart refused to cooperate. At times shehad to admit she was lonely, especially when she saw otheryoung couples together, enjoying each other's company. So shemade sure not to put herself in situations where she would bereminded of what she didn't have.

"Miriam? Are you all right?"

Lydia's voice broke into her thoughts. Quickly Miriam rinsedand dried her hands, then went back to the table and delved intoher work.

A few moments later Lydia placed her hand on Miriam'sforearm. "That's enough. I can get the rest. You go on and havea good time."

"Lydia, I already said I'm not going."

"And I said you are. This is the last singing beforeChristmas, and you don't want to miss that. Go home and puton a fresh dress. I'm sure Pop won't mind dropping you offat the Lapps', and Anna Marie can bring you back home." Asif to make sure Miriam would follow orders, Lydia gatheredthe cookbooks and binders and carried them into the nextroom.

Miriam frowned. The last thing she wanted to see were boysand girls flirting with each other as they played the awkward andthrilling game of courtship. Or worse, she'd be subjected to allthe young people who had already found someone to love, or atleast to like well enough to date.

She planted herself in the chair. She was nineteen years old,not a little girl. Her sister couldn't force her. Could she?

Lydia came back into the room, glanced at Miriam, andgrimaced. "I can see this is going to be harder than I thought."She left abruptly, and returned a moment later with her blackwinter cloak slung over one arm. She adjusted the black bonneton her head with the opposite hand.

"Where are you going?" Miriam asked.

"Drastic times call for drastic measures." She stood in frontof Miriam, hands firmly planted on her hips. "I'll take you to thesinging tonight."

"You can't. Your kind has your buggy, remember?"

"Ya, but that doesn't mean I can't drive yours. I'll drop youoff, then pick you up in a couple of hours. Then you can gohome to Daed and Mamm, or you can spend the night here. Youknow we always love having you."

A scowl tugged at Miriam's mouth. She was being coerced."You say you love having me, but you want me to leave."

Lydia nodded, her expression resolute. "Ya, I do. Just knowthat I'm doing this for your own good. Now, are you coming, ordo I have to physically force you?"

Miriam didn't doubt her for a minute. Although Lydia was acouple inches shorter than Miriam, when she set her mind on agoal, nothing would keep her from achieving it. Even if it meantmaking her younger sister do something she didn't want to do.

Trapped, Miriam slowly stood. "You said I needed a freshdress."

"You look fine."

Miriam doubted that. "Let me at least freshen up in thebathroom before we go."

"Ya, but don't dally. The singing has already started. You'remissing all the fun!"

Miriam headed for the bathroom, more than a little irritated.Why couldn't Lydia mind her own business? Entering thesmall room, she closed the door and turned on the battery-operatedlamp on the vanity. As with all the rooms in Lydia'shouse, this one had also been adorned with Christmas decorations.An evergreen-scented candle burned next to the lamp,filling the small space with its fresh fragrance. A pine boughsporting a bright red bow perched above the small mirror overthe sink. Nothing fancy, but a festive touch.

The light was a bit on the dim side, but she could see herreflection clearly enough. Plain, plain, plain. A stab of insecurityhit her. While she lived among a people who valued simplicityand plainness, there was such a thing as being too nondescript.She knew that firsthand.

There was nothing pretty, nothing extraordinary, nothingstriking about her appearance. Her hair and eyes were the shadeof brown mud while her complexion was fair, even stark. Small,wire-framed glasses with round lenses did little to enhance herfeatures, while her chin angled to a point. Unlike her sisters,Miriam had no curves, and her dress hung loosely on her boyishframe. A sharp chin, lean hips, and a tiny bosom. No wondermen weren't falling at her feet.

She knew that inner beauty was more important than apretty face or appealing figure. She also knew that the Lordvalued the heart, not the shell that protected it. Still, that didn'tkeep her from secretly longing for at least one attractive physicalquality. Seth Fisher's words were still true: she was a four-eyedbeanpole.

Closing her eyes against the insult ricocheting in her brain,she fought the humiliation and resentment pooling in her stomach,unabated by time. Her path hadn't crossed Seth's since theyleft school, and that had helped—at least she hadn't been constantlyreminded of how ugly he thought she was. He hadturned into a wild boy and run around with a bunch of Englischpeople, constantly getting into trouble. A few months ago he fellinto more trouble than anyone would have thought, and that wasthe last she'd heard of him. While she had never wished him anyharm, it would suit her just fine if she never saw him again.

Opening her eyes, she leaned over the sink and splashedsome cold water on her cheeks. She mentally pushed the pastaway as she stood up, adjusting the hairpins affixed to her kapp.Staring into the mirror, she forced a smile. She could do this. Shecould do anything for a couple of hours.

Opening the door, she thought of the one good thing aboutattending the singing, and that put a genuine smile on her face.At least he wouldn't be there. She wouldn't have to worry aboutSeth Fisher ruining her night.

Chapter Two

"You sound like an Englisch driver," Seth remarked, shiftingin his seat. Sitting in one position for very long still made hisleg ache. The physical therapist who had helped him regain hismotion said that the pain would subside, but it would take time.

Patience—another hard lesson learned.

"Ya, and they got a right to complain if they get behindsomeone like this," Caleb said. "We're running late as it is."

"Sorry."

"Nee, it's not your fault. Well, it is, but I don't blame you. Iblame this!" Caleb pointed as the buggy made a left turn into adriveway. "Great. He's also going to the Lapps'. It'll probablytake him forever to find a place to park."

But instead of parking, the buggy pulled to a stop just asCaleb's horse drew up behind it. In addition to their large circulardriveway, the Lapps had another driveway that split off fromthe main one, which led to the barn in the back. There was ampleparking there, so Seth wasn't sure why Caleb was concerned.

The passenger door opened, and a woman stepped out wearinga black cloak, her face obscured by a bonnet.

Continues...
Excerpted from What the Heart Seesby Kathleen Fuller Copyright © 2010 by Kathleen Fuller. Excerpted by permission.
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