The Christmas Cradle

by Charlotte Hubbard

  “No, no, nothin’ like that.” Miriam pressed her fork through the layer of moist cake and frosting but didn’t eat the bite she’d cut. “Ben and Tom are sayin’ I’ve overstepped by workin’ at the café, especially with the baby comin’. So Saturday’ll be my last day,” she murmured. “I hate springin’ it on ya this way, but—”

  “Oh, dearie, I’ve been waitin’ for this shoe to drop ever since ya married Ben,” Naomi said with a chuckle. “When we closed up for a couple of weeks between last Christmas and your New Year’s Day wedding, I figured ya wouldn’t come back to work after that.”

  Miriam let out the breath she’d been holding. Why had she lain awake the past two nights, fearing Naomi would fuss or feel overwhelmed?

  “I’m mighty glad ya did come back to work, though,” her partner added as she squeezed Miriam’s hand. “Won’t be the same without ya there, Miriam. It’ll be a challenge to find enough help with the bakin’ and servin’, though, because three people won’t be able to fill your shoes.”

  “I’m relieved that you’re takin’ this so well.” Miriam laughed nervously. “Should’ve known you’d be prepared for this situation.”

  Naomi blinked quickly, busying herself with a bite of cake before she spoke again. “Like everybody else, I knew ya should be stayin’ home, but I was hangin’ on to every day we could work together.”

  “Jah, we’ve had some wonderful-gut times in that kitchen, ain’t so? Cooked up a lot of laughter along with our food.” Miriam closed her eyes over her first bite of cake, which tasted even moister and sweeter now that she’d said what needed saying.

  “And think what all’s happened since we opened the Sweet Seasons,” Naomi continued in a nostalgic tone. “Your Rebecca returned to ya, and your Rachel married my Micah and they’ve had wee Amelia—and Rhoda’s made a family with Andy and his kids. Me, I’ve sorta stayed the same,” she reflected as she cut another bite of cake. “I’ve been grateful for the money comin’ in—not to mention havin’ a place to spend cheerful mornings with you on days when Ezra was grumpy.”

  Miriam smiled tenderly. Naomi didn’t let on to most folks about her husband’s moodiness since a construction accident had confined him to a wheelchair. “I feel bad about leavin’ ya shorthanded. I figure Rhoda will soon have a baby, and with Rebecca workin’ at the clinic and designin’ Web sites, she’s only part-time at best.”

  “We can’t expect our kids to stay the same forever, or to live their lives so they’re convenient for us,” Naomi mused. “And you—why, you’ve got a whole new life ahead of ya! I’m so happy you’re able to have Ben’s baby. You two are such gut, solid partners. Examples for us all.”

  “Denki for seein’ things this way,” Miriam replied. She gazed around the large, noisy room, crowded with people she knew and loved. “Maybe Nellie Knepp would work for ya. Or Katie Zook.”

  “Oh, I think Lydia wants to keep Katie helpin’ at the market. The younger Zook boys sometimes make more work than they get done.”

  As they laughed together, Miriam realized she would miss talk like this even more than the baking she loved to do. Spending her days at home would feel very different from what she’d become accustomed to. “Let’s don’t say anything about Saturday bein’ my last day,” she suggested. “I don’t want folks makin’ a big deal of it—or lettin’ on like the place’ll close down without me there.”

  “My lips’re sealed,” Naomi murmured. “What with us closin’ for Thanksgiving next Thursday and Friday, next week’ll be short anyway. Might give Rebecca a chance to advertise for somebody.”

  “Gut idea. Rebecca’s a whiz at that sort of thing,” Miriam replied. “At least Hiram won’t be comin’ to pester anybody—for a while, anyway. I won’t miss all the drama he stirs up every time he shows his face.”

  “Can you believe that snake, raisin’ such a ruckus here at Nora and Luke’s wedding?” Naomi muttered. “I thought we’d seen the worst of it when he whacked off Annie Mae’s hair last spring, but it seems there’s no limit to his wickedness.”

  Nodding, Miriam took another bite of her cake. She would miss her chats with Naomi. The two of them had shared opinions and wisdom and inside jokes for so long that they could finish each other’s sentences. When Monday morning came, she knew she’d be wide awake, ready to begin her baking at three o’clock—and wondering what to do with the day that stretched ahead of her. She’d done some of her best thinking and praying during those quiet hours alone, kneading and shaping dough as she put her life in order.

  It’ll all work out, Lord. But You might have to remind me about that for a while.

  After the wedding festivities, Ben walked Miriam home. She was moving slower, sighing tiredly, so after he helped her out of her coat, he placed his hands on her shoulders. “Honey-girl, I’m not naggin’, but I’d feel a lot better if ya didn’t work at the Sweet Seasons anymore.”

  Miriam laughed ruefully. “Ya get your wish, Ben. Saturday’s my last day,” she said. “It’s the right thing to do, but I’m not sure how I feel about it. Naomi took it better than I figured.”

  Ben hugged her tenderly. “Denki for decidin’ that, Miriam. I doubt the talk I’ve gotta have with Josiah will be as easy. When Hiram showed up, I was ready to tell that kid he was out as far as cookin’ that supper shift goes. It’s time somebody gave Josiah the what-for about some things that have bothered me all along,” he insisted. “Bear with me, all right?”

  Miriam considered this idea. “He couldn’t have known Hiram would come today,” she said in Josiah’s defense. “And who could’ve guessed what the police said—”

  “That’s not the point,” Ben said gently. “Josiah’s gonna get an earful, and I wanted ya to be prepared.”

  Miriam nodded. “I’ll heat some cider and then put my feet up. I hope Lena won’t feel she has to help clean up the mess from the dinner.”

  Ben watched her amble toward the stove, noting how her side-to-side gait was getting more pronounced. He went to the picture window in the front room, where he saw the wedding guests hitching up their buggies to get on the road home. His parents and other family members from Lancaster County were staying either with Luke and Nora or with his aunts, Nazareth and Jerusalem, at Tom’s place, and that suited Ben fine. It gave his Pennsylvania family more time with Nora, Bishop Tom, and Bishop Vernon Gingerich, the newer members of the family—and it gave him a chance to speak his mind without spoiling the occasion.

  It was after seven before the Witmers and Lena returned to the house. Ben was pleased to hear Josiah and Savilla telling Miriam that they’d washed all the utensils and pans and put them away.

  “I was amazed at how many folks we fed today, and at how they raved about the food,” Lena said. She settled on the couch with Miriam and picked up her crochet bag. “Everyone’s excited about the new evening hours for the Sweet Seasons, too.”

  Ben prayed for the words that would accomplish his difficult purpose. “I think we need to reconsider that situation,” he stated. As Savilla joined them in the front room, Ben gestured for Josiah to sit down in one of the upholstered chairs.

  “I’m mighty disappointed that ya didn’t contact Hiram earlier,” Ben continued after the Witmers were settled. “Now that he’s found you and Savilla and Lena—and he believes Miriam kept ya from goin’ to Higher Ground—he’s got lots of ammunition,” Ben began sternly. “As ya heard, Hiram didn’t like it one bit that ya backed out on him. Nobody would’ve. And now Miriam’s smack in the middle of this new hornet’s nest.”

  “I said I was sorry about that,” Josiah protested. “I had no idea Knepp would find out we were cooking for—” He stopped talking when he saw Ben picking up the sheet of notebook paper on which he and Miriam had written their business agreement.

  “But I told ya he’d cause trouble,” Ben insisted, “and ya either didn’t believe me or ya chose to ignore my advice. So I need to see some compensation to Miriam for the trouble you’ve caused her.”

  Ben ri
pped the sheet of paper down the middle, doubled it, and then tore it again. Josiah, Savilla, and Lena became silent and wide-eyed, while Miriam remained focused on what she was crocheting. Her tense expression told Ben she was listening closely, however.

  “Wh—what do you mean, compensation?” Josiah asked. “Until the money comes through from selling the farm in Bloomfield, I don’t have any cash.”

  “Money’s not the issue here. A sense that you’re takin’ responsibility is what I’m after,” Ben replied. He stood in front of Josiah with his arms crossed. “I think workin’ in the Sweet Seasons for the next couple of weeks would be a gut thing for everyone involved.”

  Josiah’s jaw dropped. “Without pay? But how am I supposed to—”

  Ben kept looking the kid in the eye. He didn’t appreciate the stubborn, rebellious expression on Josiah’s face. “It’s not like you’ll be buyin’ the food ya serve. And you’ve been livin’ here with us, so your expenses haven’t been real high.”

  “I think that’s a fair offer,” Savilla stated. The rise of one eyebrow suggested that she’d also been ready to call her brother out about not contacting Hiram. “Consider it an internship—a chance to see if running a restaurant is really your cup of tea—and mine,” she added. “It’ll be different from cooking mostly on the weekends and taking only the jobs that appeal to you.”

  Josiah glared at his sister. “Why does everybody think I’m incapable of managing an evening shift—”

  “Because you’ve not done it before,” Ben insisted. “And also because of the way ya opened the door for Hiram to lash out at Miriam. He believes she kept ya from workin’ for him because ya didn’t tell him any different, Josiah,” he continued urgently. “Ya heard how he spoke to her—saw how he was eyeballin’ Savilla, too, and figurin’ out where Lena fits into this picture. He targets women, so we don’t dare let down our guard now.”

  “It was like Hiram changed personalities without batting an eye,” Savilla murmured. She shuddered, hugging herself. “One minute he was sweet-talking me and in the next breath he was hurling threats and accusations at you, Josiah. I’m really glad we’re not going to Higher Ground. Hiram Knepp is bad news.”

  “Fine then. Just fine!” Josiah snapped as he rose from his chair to pace. “Ben’s torn up my business agreement and now my sister’s slamming me, too. Anybody else care to take a shot?”

  Miriam glanced up from her handiwork, frowning. “What I’m seein’ and hearin’ tells me you’d be out the door the minute something didn’t go your way, young man. If ya can’t harness that bad attitude, it’ll be like havin’ an untamed horse in my kitchen.” Her voice remained deceptively calm, but she was clearly losing her patience. “I’ve worked too hard buildin’ up my business to have ya upsettin’ the routine or my customers—or Naomi. You’re a fine cook, but it takes more than that to keep a café goin’.”

  Ben was pleased that Miriam had spoken this way, and that she fully grasped the risk Josiah represented.

  Josiah stopped pacing to stand in front of the couch. “How about you, Lena?” he demanded. “Are you going to take a turn now?”

  Lena, who’d followed this escalating conversation with wide blue eyes, burst into tears. Before Ben could respond, Miriam grabbed the girl’s hand.

  “Because ya asked, there is another matter that needs tendin’,” Miriam said in a tone Ben had never heard her use. “Lena and your baby deserve a decision about your place in their lives. Ya can’t waffle on this, Josiah. You’re either in or you’re out.”

  Josiah opened his mouth but closed it before he made another rash remark.

  Ben stood firm, watching the emotions play on the kid’s face. Neither Miriam nor Savilla said a word. Lena stopped crying to focus on Josiah as though her life depended on his reply—because it did. The clock ticked away several tense, uncomfortable moments.

  Josiah stood motionless, caught between the proverbial rock and the hard place where he would either find faith and courage or lose them. Ben sensed the kid would later come to see this discussion as the crossroad that had determined which path his life would take, so he let Josiah stew. Silence was a potent form of communication. Pain was a powerful teacher.

  “Do you expect an answer right now?” Josiah finally rasped.

  “You’ve had eight months to figure it out,” Miriam pointed out. “Everybody in this room needs to know your answer, and needs to know you’re gonna stand by it.”

  Ben’s heart swelled. Miriam had stopped defending Josiah and wasn’t letting him wiggle out of this situation. Just as a man consciously hung his hat on a peg and then took it off again, the young fellow in their midst would either follow the rules of their faith and do right by Lena or he’d forever be an outsider.

  Josiah cleared his throat nervously. “Do you want me to leave?” he asked, looking from Miriam to Ben. “I don’t know where else to go—”

  “Maybe Ira would let ya share his apartment above the mill,” Ben suggested.

  Josiah frowned. “You’ve already planned this out. You want to get rid of me.”

  “Nope, it’s just an option,” Ben replied with a shrug. “Luke’s movin’ to Nora’s place, so Ira’s got an empty bedroom. Maybe you’d be more comfortable there, without the rest of us gawkin’ at ya, waitin’ for your answer.”

  “We’re not castin’ ya out—yet,” Miriam confirmed. “Whatever you’re thinkin’ about your relationship with Lena, I want ya at the café tomorrow morning so we can talk about orderin’ food and supplies and such. If you’re not there by five, when Naomi and Hannah start cookin’, I’ll figure you’re not gonna partner with us.”

  “I’ll be there,” Savilla stated as she rose from her chair. “Josiah’s sold the farm, so Willow Ridge is my home now. No matter what my brother decides, my future’s at the Sweet Seasons, so I’m in.” She held out her hand to Lena. “Shall we get some rest, sweetie? We’ve had a busy day.”

  As the two young women went down the hallway toward the dawdi haus, Ben smiled to himself. Savilla had grit. She wasn’t whining about the way her brother had so drastically changed her life, and she wasn’t afraid to forge ahead. He was pleased that such a capable young woman wanted to work at the Sweet Seasons because it would make Miriam’s exit easier.

  Josiah sighed. “I’ll go ask Ira about bunking with him for a while. Denki for giving me alternatives instead of just kicking me out.”

  “You’re welcome,” Ben replied. As Josiah fetched his coat in the kitchen, Ben slipped onto the couch beside Miriam. They kept quiet until they heard the back door close. “Bootin’ Josiah out of our house could give him a quick excuse for leavin’ altogether,” he remarked. “It would be easier on us, maybe, but it wouldn’t do him a bit of gut.”

  “Maybe he’ll open up to Ira—get some things off his chest,” Miriam murmured as she snuggled against him. “Your brother’s traveled the same road Josiah’s on. I suspect Ira won’t put up with much whinin’ or complainin’, either.”

  “He might even charge Josiah some rent, which wouldn’t be a bad thing,” Ben said with a chuckle. He wrapped his arms around Miriam to savor the comforting warmth of her body . . . the shifting of the baby against his side. “Whatever happens, God’ll see to it. For now, it’s just you and me, honey-girl, after a wonderful day celebratin’ Luke and Nora’s marriage—and eatin’ some mighty fine food.”

  “Jah, the Witmers put on quite a feast,” Miriam agreed. “Let’s hope Josiah gets his act together so there’ll be more where that came from.”

  Chapter Twelve

  As the bell above the Sweet Seasons door jangled behind the last departing lunch customers on Saturday, Miriam sighed heavily. She stood at the serving window, gazing at the sturdy furniture the Brenneman brothers had built for her, the blue denim curtains she’d sewn for the café’s opening, and the white board where Rhoda wrote the daily specials. Aromas of Josiah’s brisket and ribs came into the kitchen as he carried the pans from the steam table into the kitc
hen. Rhoda, Rebecca, and Savilla chatted as they wiped down the tables. It had been a bittersweet day of keeping her emotions to herself, but at this moment Miriam felt as empty as the bakery case beside the cash register.

  Naomi came to stand next to her. “Ya gonna be all right, dearie?” she murmured beneath the clattering of Josiah’s metal pans. “If it makes ya feel any better, Savilla is top-notch help—and her brother’ll come around, I believe. It was a gut idea for him to start cookin’ his meats for the lunch shift.”

  “Jah, that’s truly his talent,” Miriam replied softly. “Savilla’s a natural-born organizer, so I suspect they’ll do fine in the evenings without your supervisin’. I’ll probably write out another business agreement in a couple of weeks.”

  Naomi smiled, grasping Miriam’s hand. “It’ll all work out. And I don’t want to hear about how you’re mopin’ around at home or frettin’ over how we’re doin’ without ya, understand me?” she insisted. “I can well imagine how different you’re gonna feel, though. I don’t know what I’d do with myself if I had to stay at home. Cookin’ here keeps me goin’ from one day to the next.”

  “I know all about that.” Miriam turned her head so Naomi wouldn’t see her blinking back tears. “Stayin’ home’s the right thing to do. But I can’t think I’ll be doin’ anything that matters—leastways not until the baby’s born.”

  “Get some rest while ya can. You’ve forgotten how a wee one’ll take up a lot of the time ya used to spend sleepin’.” Naomi slung an arm around Miriam’s shoulders and leaned closer. “Why not slip out before the kids see ya gettin’ teary-eyed?” she whispered. “After ya go, I’ll give them a pep talk about how I expect things to keep runnin’ smooth now that I’m to be in charge.”

  Miriam swiped at her eyes. “Gut idea. I don’t want anybody hoverin’ or quizzin’ me. You are the boss now, Naomi—and you’re the best friend ever, too.”

  Miriam got her wraps and quickly let herself out the back door. She stood beside the phone shanty, inhaling the frosty air to fortify herself—along with the luscious aromas that lingered around Josiah’s cookers, which lined the windbreak wall between her building and Ben’s smithy. When had she ever felt so fidgety? So unsure of what to do next?