A Simple Vow

by Charlotte Hubbard

  “That’s the best thing for all of us, to be surrounded by a family who loves us,” Bishop Tom agreed quietly. “With everyone praying on it, and meanwhile caring for the babies as we’re able, I believe God will lead the folks involved to make the right decisions.”

  “Indeed, we’ll look back to this day as a pivotal point when our faith changed lives,” Vernon said in a low, eloquent voice. “The babies’ lives, of course, but our own, as well. We’ve been placed in an urgent position of opportunity to be the hands and feet of our Jesus in today’s world.”

  Everyone nodded, considering what the two bishops had said. Edith believed their sentiments possessed the power of sermons, elevating this situation to a higher purpose. She felt even more earnest about carrying out the favor Will had asked of her this morning, giving him—and Asa—the chance to straighten out their knotty dilemma.

  Edith found herself thinking about Asa . . . how his dark hair shimmered like ravens’ wings, and the way he’d sworn to care for the twins even though he hadn’t fathered them. When Leroy began to fuss, Edith stepped over to take him from Jerusalem. “Probably hungry again,” she suggested.

  “Smells kind of ripe, too,” Jerusalem replied with a chuckle. “Better for these wee ones to be with you than with Naz or me. Until we married Tom and Vernon, we’d been maidel school teachers all our adult lives, you see.”

  “Jah, we didn’t do any baby-raising as young women, and now we’re too old,” Nazareth continued the story with a chuckle. “I’d probably prick the poor things with the diaper pins—”

  “Or put the diaper on the wrong end altogether,” Jerusalem teased.

  “Puh!” her sister retorted. “Who’s the aunt responsible for Bennie’s showin’ Luke and Ira how to drink the sugar water out of the hummingbird feeders because she didn’t realize things had gotten too quiet?”

  Jerusalem’s graying eyebrows waggled at her younger sister. “And they’re the sweetest nephews of the bunch, ain’t so?” she shot back. “No finer men in Willow Ridge than those three.”

  Edith laughed at this back-and-forth between the middle-aged sisters, even as Leroy began to wail—which inspired Louisa to do likewise. “If you’ll excuse us,” Edith said as Loretta relieved Nazareth of the twin she’d been holding.

  “We’d best be goin’ anyway.” Bishop Tom reached for his hat. “My cows’ll be wonderin’ what happened to me if I don’t get to milkin’ them soon.”

  “And we’ll be starting back to Cedar Creek,” Bishop Vernon said as he gestured for his wife and sister-in-law to precede him toward the door. “I’ll get in touch with Will and see how we can help on that end—and meanwhile, we’ll keep you all in our thoughts and prayers. It’s been a blessing to get better acquainted with you Riehls today.”

  Edith led the way upstairs, murmuring baby talk to settle the infant she carried, as Loretta and Rosalyn followed her with the other crying baby. Once in Edith’s room, they laid the babies on the towels she’d spread upon her bed.

  “We’ll need to figure out what to use for a crib,” Loretta said as she unfastened a diaper. “And we need a changing table, and—”

  “Maybe the ladies will bring some of those things to the store for us tomorrow,” Edith replied. She deftly removed Leroy’s stinky diaper and dropped it into the enameled pail, closing the lid after her sister did the same with Louisa’s. “I was amazed that Lydia Zook was willing to organize—”

  Rosalyn leaned in close and lowered her voice. “What we really want to know is how your visit with Asa went.”

  “Jah, we saw you heading up the road like a moth to a flame,” Loretta whispered. “Is he doing all right?”

  “Is he as cute as we’re guessing?” Rosalyn quizzed her. “We barely caught a glimpse of him—”

  “Are you happy now?” Dat demanded behind them.

  Edith nearly bumped her sisters’ heads as they all straightened at once. Their father’s expression told of his frustration—and of how he’d caught them pink-cheeked from scheming again.

  “Of course everyone left when the babies started bawling,” he went on tersely. “But mark my words, Daughters. No matter how blessed the bishops claim we are, this is just a temporary fix, until we make Will see the light and take responsibility for these children. I’m going to hold Vernon Gingerich to his promise to move this situation toward its proper conclusion.”

  “I’m sure he’ll do his best on our behalf,” Rosalyn murmured.

  “He impresses me as a fellow who means what he says and gets right to it,” Loretta chimed in.

  Edith remained silent. Was that longing she heard in her sisters’ voices—the same love she already felt for the babies who wiggled and kicked on her bed? When the sisters began cleaning and diapering Leroy and Louisa, Edith heard their father’s footsteps in the hallway and on the stairs. “At least we won’t be taking them back to Roseville right away,” she murmured.

  “I’m glad Bishop Vernon agreed to visit with Will, too,” Rosalyn said. “If there’s been a misunderstanding amongst members of that family, I’m thinking Vernon will handle the situation a lot better than Dat. With his white hair and beard, he surely must look a lot like God!”

  Loretta chuckled at Rosalyn’s remark. “The milk from Nazareth and Jerusalem’s goats will save us a lot of money, too. All in all, their surprise visit was a big blessing—for us and the babies, too.”

  Edith smiled, thinking back to her visit with Asa. Had she been a blessing to him? Somehow that idea mattered to her—even if he might not stick around town much longer.

  But maybe Leroy, Louisa, and I can convince him to stay . . . even if it’s way too soon to be thinking about that.

  Chapter Five

  On Friday morning, after Nora had allowed herself to sleep an hour later than usual, she dressed quickly. She and Luke had agreed that because their visitor was supposed to rest, it would be best not to start the noisy job of clearing out the pew benches until midmorning. The cleanup duties were traditionally shared by the newlyweds, so Ira and Millie were also happy they didn’t have to get up so early.

  Nora smiled at her sleeping husband and padded barefoot down the hall, noting how the morning sunshine glimmered on the hardwood floors of her studio. At the guest-room door she paused, listening for signs that Asa was stirring. Hearing nothing, she opened the door and peeked inside.

  Asa was still in bed, and he was looking right at her. His tousled ebony hair and long-lashed deep blue eyes contrasted strikingly with the ivory sheets. His face had returned to its natural tawny color—at least on the side she saw. He appeared alert and rested.

  “Sorry—didn’t mean to wake you,” Nora murmured. “You slept soundly, I hope?”

  “Like a rock.”

  She nodded. “Nurse Andy said rest was the best thing for you, and that he’d stop by this morning to see how you’re doing.”

  “I feel fine.”

  Nora found his steady gaze a bit unnerving, maybe because he was such a handsome man . . . probably not wearing much under the sheet and light quilt. “Well,” she said quickly, “I’ll start breakfast. Ira and Millie are to be here in a couple hours to help with the redding up.”

  “Count me in,” Asa said. “It’s the least I can do after the way you and Luke—”

  “Nope, you’re not lifting anything heavier than a fork. Andy’s orders,” Nora reminded Asa. “How about if you come over to the Simple Gifts shop with me and write out price tags? Luke, Ira, and Ben can heft those wooden benches back into the pew wagon.”

  Asa’s unusual indigo eyes widened. “Are you ordering me around?”

  “Jah, I am,” Nora replied with a chuckle. “You’re not going to make your concussion worse on my watch, mister. See you downstairs whenever you’re ready for breakfast. Go back to sleep if you want to.”

  Before Asa could protest any further—or do something provocative like getting out of bed—Nora closed the door and headed downstairs. Their guest seemed much more focused
this morning, which was a positive sign of recovery, but Andy had warned her that new symptoms might show up today. They couldn’t risk letting Asa ride back home alone, even if his horse had recovered, so keeping him busy at effortless little jobs seemed like her best strategy.

  As the three of them ate the breakfast casserole Ben’s wife, Miriam, had so thoughtfully prepared for them, Nora stole glances at Asa. Even though Luke’s clothing hung loosely on his slim, muscular body, their guest looked much better today. He wasn’t much of a man for chitchat, but he thanked them repeatedly for taking him in and feeding him.

  “Happy to help,” Luke replied as he reached for Nora’s hand. “I hope you know you won’t be lifting any pew benches this morning, however.”

  Asa sighed. “So Nora’s told me. But it seems she has a plan for keeping me busy in her shop.”

  Luke chuckled. “Nora’s gut at keeping guys out of trouble,” he replied as he gazed fondly at her. “I can’t imagine the havoc I’d be wreaking if she hadn’t set me straight and begged me to marry her.”

  “Hah!” Nora retorted playfully. “You were the one who came begging, Hooley. You and Ira were on the road to ruin when I came back to Willow Ridge last summer.”

  She rose to pick up their plates, smiling at Asa. “I’ll be going over to the shop after I straighten up here—but again, Andy says rest is your best medicine. If you want to go back upstairs and catch a nap, that’s fine.”

  Nora was pleased that when she headed out to the big red barn next door, which housed her Simple Gifts consignment shop, Asa came along. For a moment he stood on the porch, looking out over the panorama of Willow Ridge that spread before them in a patchwork of pastures, farmhouses, freshly tilled gardens, and shops located near the homes of their owners.

  “Tell me what I’m seeing here,” he said. “Willow Ridge seems more progressive than a lot of Plain towns.”

  “You’ve got a gut eye,” Nora remarked. “Starting on our immediate left is Luke and Ira’s grist mill, where they sell specialty grains, along with fresh butter, cage-free eggs, and goat cheese,” she began, pointing as she described their view. “Zook’s Market with the blue roof is our grocery and dry goods store, and down from that is the Grill N Skillet and the Willow Ridge Quilt Shop both of them recently rebuilt after a fire at Christmastime. Josiah Witmer and his sister Savilla run the restaurant, with Naomi Brenneman’s help. Three Mennonite gals in the Schrock family own the quilt shop.”

  “And across the road is Ben Hooley’s smithy, where my horse is, jah?”

  Nora nodded, pleased Asa’s memory was returning. “You’re right! And down at the next intersection is Nurse Andy’s clinic. The long metal building behind that is the Brenneman brothers’ carpentry shop, and then there’s the Riehl place—where our newest resident, Cornelius, makes and repairs clocks. His girls manage the chicken business their cousin Reuben left behind,” she went on. “The Holsteins you see are Bishop Tom’s, and his wife Nazareth raises goats. That tall white house beside the apple orchard is Micah and Rachel Brenneman’s place—Rachel is Miriam Hooley’s daughter. Next door to that you see Dan Kanagy’s sheep and Leah’s beehives and big garden plots where she raises produce to sell at farmers’ markets.”

  Asa was nodding, following Nora’s commentary closely. “Sounds like a lot of the women here have businesses. That’s unusual.”

  “We’re a hardworking bunch, no doubt about it—but Bishop Tom has the final say about those gals working from their homes,” Nora clarified. “Along that road toward Morning Star you’ll find an auction barn. Coming around the bend toward this place, we have Matthias Wagler’s harness shop, and his brother Adam does home remodeling. And that brings you to my store, Simple Gifts.”

  As they stepped off the porch, Asa seemed to be thinking about everything she’d told him. “What gets people to come here?” he asked. “Most of the businesses you’ve named are common enough in Plain towns, but it takes more than locals to support places like your gift shop and a mill store.”

  Nora smiled as she opened the side door of the barn. Asa had asked a very astute question, which indicated that his mind had cleared since Luke had brought him to the house yesterday. “This is going to sound a little strange, but we have a young woman—Rebecca Oliveri—who’s built us all Web sites, and who knows how to make our businesses visible online,” Nora replied. “She runs her Web site design business in an upstairs office of the clinic, and she’s Andy Leitner’s receptionist. As a toddler she washed away in the flood of ninety-three, and then rediscovered her Amish family—her mother Miriam Hooley, along with her twin sisters Rachel and Rhoda. She loves it here so much she’s just built a home down the road from Ben’s place.”

  “Wow, that’s quite a story—and quite an asset to your community,” Asa said as he followed Nora through the back door. His eyes widened as he entered the store. “And wow doesn’t begin to describe this place, Nora. May I look around before you put me to work?”

  The awe in Asa’s voice brought a smile to Nora’s face. “Please do. We have two levels of furniture, housewares, linens, leather tack, and garden gates—among other things—produced by Plain crafters from all over central Missouri,” she told him. “I have to admit that every morning when I walk in here, I’m amazed that we move so much merchandise. I’ve done better than I ever dreamed possible when I opened last fall.”

  Nodding, Asa walked slowly between the displays. He stopped to finger a pottery bowl and pitcher set . . . a glorious saddle of tooled leather . . . the star-pattern quilt on a glossy sleigh bed made of walnut. Then he looked toward the upstairs railing, where more quilts and some three-dimensional banners were hanging. “Awesome,” he murmured. “Just plain awesome, Nora.”

  “Denki,” she replied. “I’m blessed to know so many fine crafters, and pleased that I can provide them with a profitable outlet for their work. And what do you do, Asa?”

  Several seconds went by. Nora kept watching her tall, muscular guest as he stood in the center of her store. Was he lost in thought, so focused on her wares that he hadn’t heard her? Or was he starting to fade mentally, a consequence of his concussion?

  Or is he fabricating an answer?

  Nora didn’t like to think her guest was hiding something, but it wasn’t her place to pry, either—or was it? If his story about the young man who’d accused him of fathering those twins was a lie . . . Nora felt entitled to straight answers, if only to watch out for the Riehls.

  Asa turned, focusing his cobalt eyes on her. “My brother and I run a furniture business. I do refinishing and repair work, and he does upholstery and caning.”

  “Ah.” Nora smiled, deciding not to challenge his answer. “If you’d like to call to let your family know where you are, my phone’s right here,” she said, gesturing toward the desk where her computer sat. “I’ll get the list of new items we need to tag.”

  As Nora entered her enclosed office, she observed Asa through the slats of the blinds. He’d seemed very open and sincere until she’d asked about his livelihood. Perhaps she should keep him in sight at all times—because he might exhibit more concussion symptoms, and because he seemed very interested in her merchandise. She regretted the worm of suspicion that had crawled into her thoughts after he’d paused for a few moments too long.

  He punched some numbers on her phone. “Jah, it’s me,” he said, apparently leaving a message as most Amish folks did. “I’m in Willow Ridge because I got thrown from my horse. I’ll be back as soon as we’re sure I don’t have a serious head injury. Let Hal Gillespie know I’m running late on that antique bedroom set he left with me, okay? Bye.”

  As Nora carried out a box of labels and her list of new consignment items, she considered what to ask Asa about his business and family. She didn’t want to sound nosy—just interested. “I bet your folks will be glad to hear from you,” she remarked as she set down her armful of supplies. “It’s not every day you get thrown to the roadside and detained in a strange town.”
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  Asa shrugged. “It’s just my brother and me living in Clifford—and we tend to go our own ways, picking up or delivering furniture and scouting for pieces to refurbish so we can sell them,” he replied. “We sometimes go a few days without seeing each other, so I doubt he’s been worried about my being gone.”

  Nora nodded, although it seemed odd that brothers and partners wouldn’t keep closer tabs on each other. “How about the rest of your family? Are your parents close by?”

  The rising of Asa’s dark eyebrows suggested irritation or impatience—with his family or maybe with her, for asking such a question. “As the youngest sons, we always knew none of the family land would go to us. We moved to Clifford when we found a place to open our business,” he replied. “So what’s your system for tagging your stuff?”

  Although Asa hadn’t come out and said so, Nora sensed he and his brother might’ve had a falling-out with the rest of the Detweiler family . . . wherever they were. She reminded herself that Asa’s affairs were none of her business, even though his behavior and words were raising red flags in the back of her mind.

  She showed him how she preferred the labels to be written out, following the numbers she’d assigned to each crafter who consigned work to Simple Gifts. Asa set to work, easily fitting his small, tight printing onto the labels. When Andy Leitner entered the shop, however, Asa appeared happy for the distraction.

  “Let’s look you over, Asa,” the nurse said as he opened his medical bag. “Glad to see you focused on a task and behaving yourself for Nora.”

  Nora chuckled. “He seems a lot more alert after a night’s sleep,” she remarked. “His bruises are looking better, too.”

  “He looks to be a sturdy type who heals quickly. His MRI shows that he’s got a mild concussion that won’t cause any long-term damage to his brain,” Andy replied as he studied Asa’s eyes. “Comes from being a young fellow who takes gut care of himself—or who has a wife looking after him, maybe wondering where he’s been.”