The Calling (2 page)

Why her? Why this feisty, hot-tempered girl? Why now?

He didn’t have the answers to those questions any more than he knew how to draw traffic along the road right now to condition this horse to unexpected noise.

It was something in her eyes, he decided. Deep, dark, intense. Yes, she was attractive, but it was the intensity in her eyes that spoke to him. There was some kind of fathomless depths to those eyes, and in them, something vulnerable. It quivered around the edges of her all the time, something a bit lost, lonely. Confused, maybe.

It wasn’t as if Jimmy didn’t have a few reservations about pursuing Bethany. He had plenty. Mainly—she’d been planning to run off with Jake the Snake, and though Jimmy had a quick-to-forgive nature, he wasn’t about to let himself be runner-up in any girl’s estimation. It was true—Bethany did refuse Jake—but Jimmy wanted a girl’s whole heart. Not the leftovers.

“Simmer down, now,” he said, his voice what’s-the-weather-today calm, trying not to stare at her rosy lips and deep blush. “I’m sure whatever is bothering you is just a misunderstanding.”

That made her all the more upset. For just an instant, he pressed his fingers against her mouth, but she pushed him away, furious. “I am not one of your horses! You can’t speak to me with soft words and think you’ll win me over, just like that!” She stamped her foot fiercely and that set the gelding dancing on its lead.

Jimmy held tight to the lead and stroked the horse’s back, whispering sweet words to it. After the gelding settled, he turned his attention back to Bethany. “Calm down and start from the beginning.” He tried to keep his voice even sounding, yet firm. The same way he spoke to this skittish gelding.

She had been watching the gelding, but with those words, she swung around on him so fast her capstrings bounced. She flashed her dark eyes at him with one single, pointed glance, a glance that managed to be both accusatory and frightening. “You try calming down after opening up a trunk and finding a skeleton staring back at you! With
two
skulls.
Four
empty eye sockets!”

The gelding pinned its ears back at Bethany’s loud voice and Jimmy tightened his hold, keeping one eye on that horse. One more shout from her and his horse would bolt to kingdom come.

Bethany shuddered. “I will never sleep again.” She was furious, shoulders rigid, chin tilted at that arrogant angle.

But at least she wasn’t shouting anymore. “Maybe there’s a reasonable explanation. Did you ask the sisters about the trunk?”

“No, of course not. They weren’t home.” She crossed her arms. “They’re hardly ever home. I don’t know what they do with their time, but it sure isn’t spent cleaning their house.” A little laugh bubbled up in her throat. “Besides, why would I want them to know that I knew they were killing people and stuffing them in trunks? I’m not stupid.” She gave him one last look of utter disgust and marched back to her scooter.

The gelding pointed its ears at Jimmy. He stroked the horse along its neck and spoke to it softly. “Did you understand a word of that?” The horse stood as if planted to the ground. “Me either. Well, Bethany may not have been a passing truck, but she does have a way of creating a maelstrom. I think she took care of your conditioning exercises for today.”

For the past three summers, Miriam Schrock’s twice-removed third cousin from York County had invited her to come along on a vacation to visit relatives in Maine with them, and each time she thanked them and thanked them, then said no.

Her older sister, Bethany (her half sister—same father, different mothers—to be precise, and Mim valued being precise), couldn’t get over this. A free trip to Maine! Weeks of swimming and lobsters and hiking and fir trees. No chickens to feed. No stalls to muck. No goat to stir up trouble. All that sounded nice, but Mim didn’t want to go. She just wanted to spend the summer in Stoney Ridge—to watch Galen King and Jimmy Fisher train Thoroughbreds, play with her younger brothers if and when she felt like it, and read piles of library books. What if she were to get sick while she was away? She had never been away from home without her mother, and she wasn’t about to start now. Her mom needed her. Ever since her father had died suddenly in a drowning accident last year, Mim just wanted things to be safe and familiar.

Besides, who would visit with Ella at the Sisters’ House? Ella was the oldest of the five ancient sisters who lived together in an even more ancient house. Mim tagged along now and then when Bethany worked at the Sisters’ House trying to organize their enormous accumulation of clutter. Mim did odd jobs for the sisters and had become rather fond of Ella. She was round and short, warm and steamy like a little teapot. She always smelled of fresh-baked gingerbread. Whenever Mim would stop in at the Sisters’ House, Ella would look up from her crocheting or quilting or newspaper reading, pat the chair next to her so Mim would sit down beside her, and say, “So tell me everything.”

Ella said she considered Mim to be the granddaughter she
never had. Mim wished Ella
were
her grandmother. That had to be a private wish, though, since she already had a grandmother. Mammi Vera. Well, Mammi Vera was just Mammi Vera. Mim thought she was born old and cranky.

Yesterday, Mammi Vera said that Luke, Mim’s brother, who would soon be eleven, was full of the devil. He had memorized a Bible verse to a snappy tune and taught it to Mammi Vera. It was one of those tunes that got stuck in your head. A neighbor named Hank Lapp stopped by to say hello and heard her humming it. He asked her about it, so she sang the Bible verse. Then Hank laughed so hard tears rolled down his leathery cheeks. Turns out Luke had been singing Bible verses to a radio jingle for fine-tasting filter cigarettes. That was when Mammi Vera said Luke was full of the devil.

The devil seemed to be lurking around Eagle Hill on a regular basis, in Mammi Vera’s mind, and she was often warning Mim, Luke, and their eight-year-old brother Sammy with strange proverbs from the Old Country: “Speak of the devil and he will flee.”

Awhile ago, Mammi Vera caught Mim peering into a mirror. In a loud voice she said, “Wammer nachts in der Schpiggel guckt, gucket der Deiwel raus.”
When you look into the mirror at night, the devil
peers out.

The thought scared Mim so much she didn’t look in a mirror for an entire month. She even took down the mirror in her room, just in case she happened to forget and glance at it during the night. Finally, she discussed Mammi Vera’s saying with her very good friend Danny Riehl and he thought it didn’t sound at all logical. Why would the devil only look at you in the night? That’s the kind of thinker Danny was. Logical. He made everything easier to understand.

Mim was so touched that Ella thought of her as a granddaughter that she nearly confided in her about her great devotion for Danny Riehl. In her diary, she had filled the margins with versions of her name connected to Danny Riehl: Mrs. Daniel Riehl, Miriam Riehl, and her very favorite, Danny’s Mim.

Mim had never told a soul how she felt about Danny. Although she shared almost everything with her sister Bethany, she had never mentioned Danny to her, because sometimes, oftentimes, her sister could be a little insensitive. If Danny found out, even accidentally, about Mim’s deep feelings for him, it would be the most humiliating thing she could ever imagine.

Today, as Mim ran to get the mail, she was glad she had turned down her York County cousin’s invitation and for an entirely different reason than Danny or Ella. Nearly every day, there was a letter in the Inn at Eagle Hill mailbox addressed to Mrs. Miracle from someone who direly needed an answer to a problem.

A few months ago, when Mim’s mother, Rose, had first opened the Inn at Eagle Hill, she had asked Mim to paint a sign for the inn. Mim was known far and wide for her excellent penmanship. Excellent. She worked long and hard on the large wooden sign, penciling the letters, painting them in black with a fine-tipped paintbrush. At the bottom of the sign, Mim had added a little Latin phrase she had found in a book and liked the way it rolled off her tongue:
Miracula fieri hic
. At the time, she didn’t realize what it meant: Miracles occur here.

A newspaper reporter, who happened to have taken five years of high school Latin, he said, translated the phrase and
said
this
was the story he’d been looking for. There was a human-interest angle to spin from the Latin phrase—it spoke to a longing in everyone for a place that fed their soul and spirit. He wrote up an article, weaving in truth and mistruths, about the miracles that occurred at the Inn at Eagle Hill. The article was picked up by the Pennsylvania newspapers, then the internet, and so on and so forth. Soon, the inn was considered to be a place where people could practically order up a custom-made miracle like a hamburger. And then people started to write letters to Mrs. Miracle. Buckets and buckets of letters. They kept pouring in. Mim’s mother, overwhelmed by the quantity, was relieved when Mim offered to answer the letters. But she told Mim what to say: “The Inn at Eagle Hill couldn’t solve their problems. Only God could provide miracles.”

Mim believed that part about God and miracles, but after reading a few letters, she thought she could help the people solve their problems. Most of the problems were pretty simple: injured feelings, sibling rivalry, how to cook and clean. All of that she had plenty of experience with, especially with the sibling rivalry. Her two little brothers couldn’t be in the same room without some kind of fuss and tussle. So she decided to answer a few letters, offering advice, posing as Mrs. Miracle. Then a few more and a few more, until she finished the big pile. She knew she hadn’t done what her mom had expected her to do, but it was just a small disobedience, a slight adjustment to the truth, and for the best of reasons. She was helping people, and hadn’t she been taught to help others? Plus, Mim was sure the letters from people seeking advice would dwindle down as the Inn at Eagle Hill miracle story blew over. After all, with this heat wave they’d been
having, the inn had been getting cancellations for reservations as soon as people discovered there was no air-conditioning. If they really thought the inn could dish out miracles, they wouldn’t let a little hot weather stop them, would they?

Maybe, maybe not. But letters addressed to Mrs. Miracle kept coming. Mim made a point of meeting the mailman each day so her mom wasn’t made aware of this interesting development. Each afternoon, she listened for the squeaky mail truck to come down their road and bolted to the mailbox when she heard it. So far, so good. The letters continued to arrive, stealthily, and the problems in the letters were still pretty simple to solve. She hadn’t been stumped yet.

In today’s mail was a letter from the local newspaper, asking Mrs. Miracle if she would like to have a regular column in the
Stoney Ridge Times
. Mrs. Miracle would be paid five dollars each time the column ran. Five whole dollars! Mim would be rich!

There was just one glitch. The letter from the newspaper stated she needed to be over eighteen and they wanted her signature and birth date on the W-2 form. Mim was only fourteen. She didn’t mind bending the rules for a good cause, and this was definitely a worthy cause. But she would need help. First, she thought about asking Naomi King, her friend and neighbor, who had turned eighteen recently. But then she dismissed that notion. Naomi followed rules the way she quilted: even, straight, tiny, perfect stitches. No mistakes. Keeping a secret like Mrs. Miracle’s true identity might cause Naomi to unravel.

Then she thought of her sister Bethany, who had just turned twenty and didn’t mind bending rules at all. But the tricky part was catching Bethany in just the right mood to ask for a
favor. It all depended if Bethany was feeling friendly or not. Anticipating Bethany’s moods lately took skill—often, she seemed pensive and just wanted to be left alone. It was all because of Jake Hertzler. He was Bethany’s ex-boyfriend, a charming fellow who had worked for her father at his investment company. When Schrock Investments went belly up, Jake Hertzler, along with Mim’s oldest brother Tobe (again, to be precise, Tobe was her half brother), went missing.

On a cheerier note, this newspaper column was a wonderful opportunity for Mrs. Miracle. It was disappointing that Mim needed to keep this opportunity top secret—her mother, and
especially
her grandmother, must never find out! The way Mim rationalized it, it was only a tiny breaking of all the rules her church was so fond of and she was helping all kinds of people and that was worth keeping a secret or two. But if her grandmother found out—oh my! Then Mim would be full of the devil.