Gloria wondered where she should begin. “Well, he showed up out of the blue saying he was from Lancaster County, and that his name was Bishop Clayton King—”
“And he claimed to be from some Council of Bishops who sent him to set us straight because we’ve become too progressive,” Cyrus continued.
“Last Friday he announced that the council had told him he was to take over as our new bishop,” Laura put in quickly. “Needless to say, our current bishop—my step-dat—is wondering if a bunch of men out east even has any say over us.”
“And when King suggested that each family in Promise Lodge should donate a percentage of their year’s income as a sign of their intention to walk the straight and narrow again,” Jonathan put in, “we started getting suspicious.”
“As well you should!” Nora blurted out. She shook the papers angrily, lowering her voice. “This man is no more a bishop than I am! After we caught him going to a casino to gamble, he claimed he would stop—but we discovered he was still gambling on a computer, and—”
Nora crossed her arms hard, so upset that she pivoted to look away from them. “Cornelius left this town—and his poor family—reeling from the extent of his thievery,” she explained in a terse whisper. “I hope you’ve caught on to him before he pulled the same evil tricks as—oh, but we need to tell Bishop Tom about this!”
Gloria nodded, touched by Nora’s reactions. “Jah, that’s why we came,” she said softly. “Our Bishop Monroe wants the bishop here to give him some advice about what to do, to make sure he’s got his facts straight before he confronts Bishop Clayton—er, Cornelius Riehl, if it’s really him.”
Nora turned, inhaling to settle herself. “Does he have dark hair that’s going gray? About as tall as these fellows, but heftier?” she asked, gesturing toward Cyrus and Jonathan. “Big booming voice, when he reads the Bible or—”
“Preaches,” Cyrus put in with a roll of his eyes. “This guy can really work a crowd. Doesn’t bat an eye when he says we’re all damned if we keep to our progressive ways. He says we give our women way too much freedom, and claims he’s come to put us back on the path to salvation.”
“That’s him,” Nora confirmed with a sigh. “Full of himself. And in general, if his mouth’s open, he’s lying.” She glanced out her office window, toward where a few customers were entering the store. “How about if you wait for me beside the black van parked out back? I’ll let Rosalyn know I’m leaving for a bit, and we’ll go visit Bishop Tom.”
Once they’d exited through the office door, Gloria gazed at her friends in disbelief. “Did you hear what Nora said about this man?”
“Evil tricks and thievery—and gambling,” Laura whispered.
“It’s a gut thing Gloria found those papers when she did,” Cyrus said, smiling at her. “And now that we’re going to talk to the bishop here, Bishop Monroe won’t have to take Clayton—or Cornelius’s—word for anything again.”
The shop door opened and Nora stepped outside with keys in her hand. She gripped the handle of the black van’s door. “My reaction to your news about Cornelius probably seemed over the top or extremely judgmental—hardly an example of Plain forgiveness,” she said apologetically. “But after the way he took off without warning or any sign of remorse—almost a year ago, it’s been—I’m surprised to hear that he’s shown up in central Missouri again. I have to wonder what he’s been up to all this time, even though I don’t really want to know.”
Gloria’s thoughts whirled as everyone got into Nora’s van. Why would an Amish man turn to gambling, to such an extent that he’d devastated his family and his community? As they rode past Zook’s Market, the Grill N Skillet, and the quilt shop again, everything in town appeared to be prospering, however. The homes they passed weren’t as new as the ones in Promise Lodge but they were well maintained—and the animals grazing in the pastures were healthy and sleek. From all outward appearances, Willow Ridge was a picture-postcard rural town where Plain families were thriving and running successful businesses.
“This is the home where Cornelius lived, and where Rosalyn and her new husband, Marcus Hooley, have remained,” Nora said as she pointed to a tidy white house on their right. “His daughter Edith and her family live across the road. The other Riehl sister, Loretta, lives in that new home farther back, beyond the vineyard. She and her husband are expecting their first child any day now, so she no longer works in the store.”
Nora shook her head sadly. “Although I’m a firm believer in families staying together, I certainly hope Cornelius doesn’t come back to cause more trouble for his girls,” she said sadly. “After enduring their dat’s hateful behavior—and the humiliation when folks learned he’d stolen the district’s money—they’re doing their best to move on.”
Gloria recalled the times Bishop Clayton had pointed his accusing finger at Phineas Beachey for committing what was considered the one unforgivable sin. And yet, it seemed that Cornelius Riehl was intimately acquainted with wrongdoing for which he hadn’t even tried to seek forgiveness. She was wondering about other details of his tangled story when Nora turned down a long gravel lane that led to the farm where they’d seen the Holsteins grazing.
“It’s not yet milking time, so hopefully we’ll catch Bishop Tom in the house,” Nora said as she parked near the front door. “In his spare time—when he’s not shepherding his Amish flock or tending his cows,” she said with a chuckle, “he carves the most fabulous Nativity sets, which the customers in my store snap up as soon as I display them. He’s such a wise, patient bishop—but this news about Cornelius will take him by surprise.”
“Jah, King has that effect on people,” Jonathan remarked as they all got out of the van.
Nora preceded them up to the small porch and knocked on the door. As they waited, Gloria prayed that their mission would once again reach a person who’d be willing to help Promise Lodge. The more she’d heard, the more she wondered if the bishop of Willow Ridge would want to recall the harm Cornelius Riehl had done.
When the door opened, a slender man with graying brown hair and a kindly smile greeted them. “Nora, gut afternoon!” he said as he gestured for them to come inside. “My Nazareth has gone to Schrocks’ quilt shop, so you and your friends’ll have to deal with the likes of me, I’m afraid. I’d offer you coffee, but it’s gotten cold—”
“Well, Bishop Tom, the news we have will be enough to heat it up, I’m afraid,” Nora said with a reluctant chuckle. She turned to the four of them as they filed into the bishop’s simple front room. “It seems I was so stunned by what these young people had to say, I didn’t even get their names!”
Gloria laughed in spite of how nervous she felt. “I’m Gloria Lehman, and this is Laura Hershberger,” she began, gesturing to everyone in turn. “Cyrus Helmuth and his brother Jonathan have been kind enough to drive us today, and to help us deal with a—a mystery that has ferhoodled us in Promise Lodge for the past month or so.”
“I’m Tom Hostetler,” the bishop said, offering his hand. “If I recall from what I’ve read in The Budget, Promise Lodge is the settlement that started up when three sisters bought an abandoned church camp, jah? North and west of here, near the Iowa line. Sounds like you folks are growing and doing quite well.”
“That’s us,” Cyrus confirmed. “It amazes me how quickly new homes and businesses have sprung up there in the past year and a half—”
“And maybe that’s why Cornelius Riehl made himself out to be a bishop and declared himself our new leader,” Jonathan muttered. “He already knew how prosperous we were, and he was all set to tap into our success. Who knows how long he’d been checking us out before he showed up?”
Bishop Tom’s face, swarthy from spending time outside, had gone pale. “Did you say Cornelius Riehl has come to Promise Lodge?”
With a sigh, Nora handed Bishop Tom the two sheets of paper Gloria had given her. “The man these kids have described has to be him,” she said softly. “Apparently he’s devised a
new con game.”
“We’d better sit down.” Bishop Tom raked his fingers through his hair and gestured toward a sofa and some armchairs. “After the way Deacon Cornelius pulled the wool over my eyes—and lied to and cheated everyone else in town, including his own family—I never figured to hear of him again after he took off.”
“May I take your coats?” Nora asked quietly. “We might be here awhile.”
“Oh my gutness, where are my manners?” the bishop said as he took their wraps. “Jah, if we’ll be talking about Cornelius, it might take a while to unravel what-all he’s gotten himself into. I believe in the will of Almighty God and the power of His grace and forgiveness, but that doesn’t mean I’ll forget how that remorseless swindler deceived us.”
Gloria blinked. Bishop Tom was a soft-spoken man yet his words rang with bitterness—a rancor her dat had often warned his congregations to pray over before it consumed them from the inside out. After the bishop had laid their coats on a loveseat across the room, he returned to where they’d taken their seats.
“Forgive me,” he said as he sat between Cyrus and Jonathan on the long sofa. “If you’ve come to me for guidance, I shouldn’t allow my prejudice to color the way I speak. Shall we pray for some attitude adjustment?”
As they bowed their heads, Gloria was struck by Bishop Tom’s earnest desire to help them despite the harm Cornelius Riehl—Deacon Cornelius—had done in his church district. What a blow it must’ve been for the leaders of Willow Ridge to discover that one of their own—the man entrusted with the district’s finances—had deceived them.
“God and Father of us all, we bow before You,” Bishop Tom said reverently, “and we ask for Your guidance as we rise above our misgivings about one of Your children and continue to move beyond the past, closer to our forever with You. Amen.”
The bishop appeared calmer and more in control of his emotions when he looked up. “So tell me how Cornelius came to be at Promise Lodge—under a fake name, misrepresenting his mission,” he added with a sigh.
Cyrus, sitting to Bishop Tom’s right, spoke first. “He showed up out of the blue one afternoon, announcing that he’d come from Lancaster County, where a Council of Bishops feared that Promise Lodge was on the path to perdition because we’ve become too progressive.”
“And the council had drawn this conclusion from reading our columns in The Budget,” Jonathan added. “Our bishop, Monroe Burkholder, was his main target, partly because he and our preachers had recently allowed one of our Old Order members to marry a Mennonite.”
“Jah, I recall reading the column about that event,” Bishop Tom remarked with a nod. “I was surprised, but I have a hunch intermarriage will become more common in the future. Amish folks get along better in today’s world with the help of their Mennonite neighbors, so the dividing lines between our faiths is beginning to blur.”
“Bishop Monroe’s also been taking some heat from Bishop Clayton—er, Cornelius—about his business, which is training Clydesdales for English clients who show them,” Gloria continued. “And the husband of one of our newest residents has come back to her after leaving the Old Order. He wants to reconcile with her and our faith, but Cornelius claims that Phineas has committed the one unforgivable sin—and that he’s already damned himself forever.”
Bishop Tom’s lips curved. “Let the man who’s never sinned cast the first stone,” he paraphrased softly. “Jah, many conservative Old Order settlements would refuse to allow Phineas a chance to come back. For other bishops, however, that rule goes against the very nature of forgiveness and redemption that Jesus preached—depending on the circumstances, of course.”
When he smiled at the four of them, Bishop Tom’s face took on a boyish humility that further convinced Gloria they’d come to exactly the right place.
“I’ve gotten the impression that Promise Lodge has pushed several of the Old Order boundaries since Monroe Burkholder arrived there, but you know, that’s not always detrimental,” he murmured. “It’s one thing to give in to the worldly habits and desires of the English—to sell out the ancient ways of the Old Order for the sake of convenience. But it’s another thing altogether to examine those ancient ways when they no longer seem to serve the common gut.
“Especially when it comes to the welfare of our women,” the bishop added in a thoughtful tone. “I believe our faith would improve if we respected wives and mothers as pillars of their families with valid opinions, and if we allowed them to contribute their abilities to the community rather than forcing them into whatever roles their men allow them to fill.”
Gloria’s eyes widened. She hadn’t expected a bishop of her father’s generation to express such progressive ideas.
Nora laughed and clapped her hands together. “Bishop Tom, had you been in charge when I was growing up Amish, I might’ve returned to the faith when I came back to Willow Ridge,” she crowed. She gazed at Gloria and her friends. “Do you understand now why Willow Ridge has rebounded quickly from the damage Cornelius Riehl did to our town? Bishop Tom thinks outside the box—and he believes the box has transparent walls where no one can hide. Including Cornelius.”
Gloria considered this. She sensed Nora had lived her life outside that proverbial box, yet she’d returned to this town to run her business—and folks had accepted her even though she’d turned Mennonite. Rather than derail the conversation about Cornelius, however, Gloria kept her curiosity about Nora to herself.
“So . . . what exactly did Cornelius do here?” Cyrus asked after a few moments of silence. “If you don’t want to talk about it—”
“Oh, but we must discuss it if we’re to keep him from deceiving other trusting souls,” Bishop Tom insisted. “Riehl is counting on me and the preachers remaining quiet about all the money he stole from us—hundreds of thousands of dollars our members had contributed over the years. He knew we wouldn’t call in the English police or an attorney, and he believed we’d be too ashamed to admit to other church districts that we’d been hoodwinked by the man we’d entrusted our money to. But if we keep silent about our mistake, we’re playing into his hands.”
It took Gloria a few moments to wrap her mind around what Bishop Tom had said. Not only had he admitted to an astounding amount of money that Cornelius had stolen, but he’d plumbed the dark depths of a devious mind that worked in ways she didn’t understand. It was a scary thought, to realize that such a man as Cornelius Riehl had been living among them at Promise Lodge, pretending he was there to save their souls.
“To answer your question, son,” Bishop Tom said to Cyrus, “Cornelius was taking money from the church vault to a casino and gambling it away. And when we—well, when Nora and one of our young men—caught him red-handed, he claimed he’d been so grief-stricken after his wife’s passing that he’d succumbed to the thrill of gambling. He vowed to attend grief counseling; promised us he had his habit under control, so we gave him another chance,” Bishop Tom added ruefully.
“He stopped going to the casino, but another of our young men discovered that Cornelius had found a way to gamble with a computer,” the bishop continued with a shake of his head. “I don’t understand technology, but by the time we caught him, he’d all but bankrupted us. Preacher Ben and I believed we’d been doing the right thing, giving him the opportunity to repent and come clean, but we were wrong. Naïve, and very, very wrong.”
“And rather than serve out his punishment after his kneeling confession at church,” Nora put in softly, “Cornelius skipped town. He’d bullied his daughters into keeping their noses out of his business—they had no idea why bills were arriving marked ‘Past Due,’ or why their dat would no longer allow them to shop for groceries. He left them in debt, after making a lot of nasty remarks and threats they’ll never forget.”
Gloria’s eyes widened as she met Laura’s troubled gaze. “Oh my,” she whispered. “I can’t imagine finding out that my dat had been doing all those horrible things—not to mention stealing money from folks who’d
trusted him.”
“Bishop Monroe would never do that, and neither would Amos or Marlin or Eli,” Laura put in. She looked at Bishop Tom, who sat between the Helmuth brothers. “We’re hoping you can help us,” she entreated. “Bishop Monroe, my new step-dat, has been keeping quiet about some things concerning Cornelius, so maybe if you talked to him—”
“I’ll do everything I can to help you folks,” Bishop Tom said earnestly. “We’ve got to prevent Cornelius from getting his hands on Promise Lodge’s money. If you’ve got Monroe’s phone number, I’ll call him today.”
Feeling greatly relieved, Gloria pulled a piece of paper from her apron pocket. “Denki so much, Bishop Tom,” she said as she handed it to him. “Bishop Monroe’s so wary of Cornelius, he didn’t want to leave Willow Ridge to visit with you.”
Bishop Tom stood up, flashing them a smile. “You young folks have done your community a great service,” he said as he shook hands all around. “I see this as a chance to right some of the wrongs Cornelius did us, even though we’re not supposed to seek revenge or payback.”
“But we’re to be the hands and feet of Jesus here on earth,” Nora countered brightly. “So maybe we can be the long arm of God’s law, while we’re at it.”
Gloria chuckled. As she and her friends said their good-byes to the bishop, she had a good feeling about the direction their mission was taking. When they stepped out onto Bishop Tom’s front porch, Cyrus inhaled deeply.
“I think our next stop ought to be the Grill N Skillet,” he said.
“You can’t go wrong eating there,” Nora said with a nod. “The Witmers have a lunchtime buffet or you can order from the menu—”
Light Shines on Promise Lodge Page 21
