Andy clapped him on the shoulder and steered him down the hallway. “Now you’re sounding like the Ben I know. The first words out of Miriam’s mouth when she regained consciousness were ‘where’s my Bennie-bug? ’ She was threatening to get out of bed to find you herself, so I came to fetch you.”
Where’s my Bennie-bug? Ben’s heart thrummed with exhilaration as he strode down the corridor. His Miriam was just fine. It was he who’d been too fearful to notice the pleasant colors of the hospital decor—or even the nice gal who’d brought him that awful cup of coffee. I hope you’ll forgive me, Lord, for forgetting that You’ve been in charge, he prayed as Andy paused in front of a wooden door with a rectangular window in it.
Ben’s breath caught. Even standing outside the room, he could see that Miriam looked peaceful and composed—enthralled with the bundle she held in the crook of her arm. He raked his fingers through his uncombed hair and fumbled with his half-tucked shirttail. Although she’d been through a major surgery and had given birth, his wife’s dark hair was neatly tucked beneath a fresh white kapp, and she wore the new robe he’d gotten her a few months ago. Her color had returned, and she looked much better than when he’d gazed so helplessly at her during the ambulance ride in the wee hours.
“Congratulations again,” Andy murmured as he opened the door. “She’s tired, so don’t stay too long.”
Nodding, Ben stepped into the room. He could only gape, unsure of the proper thing to do or say—until Miriam’s shining eyes set his heart to beating again. “Hey there, honey-girl,” he murmured as he approached her bedside. “Who’s this you’ve got hold of?”
“She’s the sweetest little miracle you’ve ever seen in your life, Bennie,” Miriam whispered. “This being Christmas Eve—and what with the names your aunts and uncles have—what would ya think of callin’ her Bethlehem?”
Ben’s mouth dropped open, but no sound came out. The blanketed bundle in Miriam’s arms had opened her eyes and was wiggling her arms and legs as her mouth opened and closed. When Miriam offered the baby to him, Ben scooted an upholstered chair to the bedside and sat down so he wouldn’t drop her. “How do I—what if I—”
“Support her head with your hand. Other than that, she’s a sturdy little thing.”
Swallowing hard, Ben carefully did as Miriam had instructed—and then he rested against the back of the chair with a surprisingly solid, warm little body that fit perfectly against his chest. “Bethlehem,” he breathed.
He had no idea how long he gazed at the red, wrinkled face and the puckered forehead with such perfectly arched brows . . . the tiny bow-shaped lips and quivering little nostrils. Although he knew the world was still turning, and ordinary folks were performing their jobs as usual, Ben felt the universe hold its breath for a long, lovely moment—a moment that redefined life as he knew it. He’d spent his first thirty-five years wandering like a gypsy, until one look at Miriam Lantz on a stormy morning had grounded him. Now he sensed an entirely different path opening before him—an event every bit as momentous as Moses parting the Red Sea or the angel Gabriel telling Mary she would conceive God’s own Son.
“Bethlehem. Bethlehem Hooley,” he whispered in awe. Then he glanced at his wife. “What’s her middle name?”
Miriam giggled. “With a name like Bethlehem, ya think she needs a middle name to clarify who she is?” she teased. “After all, Jerusalem and Nazareth have no middle names, either.”
“Jah, you’re right. I’m so jumbled up, it’s a gut thing you’ve got all this figured out,” he replied with a chuckle. Then he gazed at his daughter again, so totally in love with her that he let himself drift in the perfection of this warm, cuddly moment. “It’s been quite a day, little girl,” he murmured. “A Christmas Eve like no other.”
When Josiah came back into the dawdi haus, followed by Officer McClatchey and Sheriff Banks, Lena protectively held her little son closer. Although she’d met these lawmen before, she and her family—like most Plain folks—associated policemen with bad news and an unwelcome intrusion into their community. The grim expression on Josiah’s face bespoke his own misgivings about the message they were about to share.
Bishop Tom rose from his chair. “What’ve ya found out? I hope nobody’s been hurt,” he added in a concerned voice. “Back at this end of the house, we’ve not been able to see what’s happenin’, but somebody hollered about a stretcher bein’ put into an ambulance.”
Sheriff Banks nodded. “The news isn’t good—and I’m really sorry all this commotion interrupted your Nativity pageant,” he added. “The firefighters found a fellow several feet away from the buildings, badly burned and unconscious. It was Hiram Knepp.”
Lena and those around her sucked in their breath. Her heart pounded as she swayed from side to side, cradling Isaiah as though to protect him from the nastiness they were hearing about. “It’s wrong to wish Hiram ill, even after all he’s done,” she murmured, “but—well, is he going to live?”
Officer McClatchey smiled ruefully. “We don’t know yet. We found one of those plastic wands you use to light grills nearby, but it’s the arson squad’s job to determine whether the explosion was caused by a malfunction of a propane tank or if Hiram was to blame.”
“We have our theory about that,” the portly sheriff added. “And I’m guessing you folks do, too.”
Bishop Vernon let out a long sigh. “No matter what our theories are, we must pray for Hiram’s healing and his soul—for God’s will to be done. And we must find it in our hearts to forgive whatever part he played in tonight’s disaster.”
“I’m gonna let Annie Mae know about this before we tell the rest of these folks,” Tom said as he went toward the hallway door. “Hiram’s four youngest kids were in the pageant, and Annie Mae and Adam will have a tough time explainin’ to them about what’s happened to their dat tonight.”
Josiah nodded solemnly. “Jah. Nellie’s with them, too. I think they went upstairs.”
“Let’s keep everyone here in the house while you talk to them,” Sheriff Banks suggested. “McClatchey and I will go back across the road to finish taping off the area so nobody disturbs any evidence before the arson squad investigates.”
“Are Miriam and Ben here?” the deputy asked. “I sure hate it that they lost both of their businesses—”
“And Rebecca lost her apartment,” Lena added in a small voice.
“They rushed Miriam to the hospital this morning. I’m hopin’ the Hooleys have a fine, healthy baby to help offset what’s happened in their absence,” Bishop Tom replied. “I’m goin’ to the hospital as soon as we’re finished here.”
Officer McClatchey clapped Tom on the shoulder. “I’m sorry you’ve got such a heavy message to bear to so many tonight, when just an hour ago we were all celebrating the good news of Jesus’s birth, Bishop.”
“I appreciate your concern—and all of your help while we’ve been dealin’ with Hiram these past months,” Tom replied with a sad smile.
“God be with you both,” Vernon added. “What a blessing that you were with us this evening. Men in your line of work see the dark side of human nature all too often.”
Lena watched the two officers and the bishops leave, sensing that the moment the dawdi haus door closed behind them, her parents would be spouting questions about Hiram and the trouble he’d caused. Before her dat could speak, however, Josiah came over to stand behind Lena, wrapping his arms around her and the baby.
“Emory and Dorcas, I want you to know that I nearly hired on with this Hiram fellow we’re talking about—because I was foolish enough to believe his pie-in-the-sky promises about a supper club he was opening,” Josiah began solemnly. “I’m indebted to Miriam and Ben for warning me about him, and for taking us into their home—not to mention the thanks I owe God for waylaying us in Willow Ridge the night we were heading to Higher Ground,” he added. “I’m also grateful to Lena and Savilla for standing by me when I was too hardheaded to listen to the advice I was receiving.�
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Lena’s heart stood still. The expressions on her parents’ faces were priceless: They had a hard time believing that the wild, reckless young man who’d split up their family was now acting so penitent—sincerely trying to prove himself worthy of their acceptance.
“Bishop Tom will be marrying us next week,” Josiah continued as he hugged Lena closer, “and I hope you’ll join us for our big day. It would mean the world to both of us to have your blessing—and your forgiveness for the heartache we’ve caused you.”
Lena thought her mother might melt. Mamm’s face softened as she swiped at her eyes. “Ohh,” she murmured as she came toward them with open arms. “This is such a fine turn of events, seeing the way you’ve both grown up since you came here. I’ll be the happiest person at your wedding! Wouldn’t miss it—would you, Emory?”
Her dat’s reaction was predictably less emotional, yet his steady gaze made Lena’s heart thrum. “It seems you two are finally on the right path,” he said. Then he cleared his throat. “I’ve got to wonder, though, what with the restaurant burning to the ground, how you expect to make a living—”
When a raised voice in the front room caught their attention, Savilla opened the door into the main part of the house.
“If I could have your attention, please.” Bishop Tom was speaking above the chatter. “I’ll give ya the update on that ambulance ya saw, and then you folks who’ve joined us from other towns are free to go out to your vehicles.”
Lena and Savilla preceded Josiah into the hallway so they could hear what was being said. As her parents stood beside her, Lena sensed a new hopefulness in them, despite the unfortunate events that had disrupted life in Willow Ridge.
Bishops Tom and Vernon stood near the front window, clasping their hands in front of them as though they were preparing to preach on a Sunday morning. “Sheriff Banks and Officer McClatchey have informed me that the fella in the ambulance was Hiram Knepp, who used to be our bishop here in Willow Ridge,” Tom said in a solemn voice. “Whether or not ya know him, I’d ask ya to bow your head in silent prayer for his soul and his young family.”
“We’ve witnessed an unthinkable disaster this evening,” Vernon continued as he gazed around at the silent, stunned crowd. “As horrible as it appears to us now, we’re grateful that the words written in the Gospel of John still hold true for us today. John tells us that the light of Christ came into the world and the darkness did not comprehend it—and in a more modern translation, the darkness did not overcome the light. Shall we pray on these things together?”
When the bishops bowed their heads, the entire crowd—English and Plain alike—joined them. As Lena closed her eyes, she was in awe that so many folks who didn’t live there were willing to pray with them. It felt like a holy moment, standing in silence with more than a hundred other souls who were united in their petitions to God on behalf of the Knepps, and the rest of Willow Ridge as well.
Your will be done, Lord, Lena prayed as she bounced Isaiah to keep him from fussing. Please keep Annie Mae, Nellie, and the younger Knepp kids in Your care as they deal with another sad example of how their dat has strayed from the higher road. Bless Miriam and Ben, too, as they face such an unexpected disaster.
After a few moments, Bishop Tom spoke again. “We here in Willow Ridge wish all of ya a blessed Christmas, and we thank ya for comin’ tonight to honor the Savior we celebrate and depend upon,” he said. “Be careful goin’ home. Please don’t cross the tape boundary Sheriff Banks has set up around the burned-out buildings, so their investigation can go the way it’s supposed to.”
“Did Knepp set the fire?” someone in the back of the crowd asked.
Bishop Tom smiled patiently. “We don’t know that. We’re lettin’ the police figure it out.”
“Will Miriam rebuild the Sweet Seasons?” somebody else called out. “And what about Ben’s smithy? He’s the only farrier we’ve got in this area.”
Bishop Vernon raised his hands to bring the questions to a close. “I ask your prayers on the Hooleys’ behalf, as well,” he said. “All of our questions will be answered in God’s perfect time—which means we’ll need to be patient,” he added with a wry smile. “Good evening to all of you. Go home in peace to contemplate the birth of our Lord.”
Josiah remained in a back corner of the Hooleys’ front room as he watched the crowd disperse. Even though he was now in Lena’s parents’ good graces, he felt isolated—removed from reality—as he overheard snatches of peoples’ speculative conversations. Perhaps if he didn’t look across the road again, he would awaken on Christmas Day to see that the Sweet Seasons was still intact, and that the explosions, sirens, and mayhem had all been part of a bad dream. It would be wonderful to sit down to brisket, pork loin, turkey, and Savilla’s side dishes, knowing that Bishop Tom’s family, Luke and Nora, and Lena’s family would also enjoy the meal he and his sister had prepared to thank the folks who’d helped them so much these past weeks.
But it was a fool’s game he played, pretending disaster hadn’t struck. He’d been wrong to rail at God about why He’d apparently done nothing to curb Hiram Knepp’s wickedness; Josiah still felt a void within himself. Although he’d completed his instruction and was to join the church this Sunday, he still had trouble believing that God was in control of their lives and wanted them to prosper.
Emory Esh’s earlier question pecked at him like a troublesome hen. How was he supposed to support his young family now? How was he to pay the monthly mortgage and bills for the farm he’d bought? True, he’d kept back money to get through the winter, but what was he supposed to do with himself if he and Savilla couldn’t cook in the Sweet Seasons kitchen?
When Josiah saw Annie Mae and her family coming downstairs, he made his way through the crowd to express his condolences. Her husband Adam carried little Timmy, still wearing his shepherd costume, while Nellie cradled angel Sarah in her arms and Annie Mae grasped the hands of Josh and Joey, who had portrayed two of the three Wise Men. The children wore solemn, stunned expressions, as though they were too shocked to comprehend what had happened to their father.
“I’m so sorry about your dat, Annie Mae,” Josiah murmured when he reached the young woman’s side. “If there’s anything I can do—”
Annie Mae’s huge blue eyes held his gaze through her rimless glasses. “I’m sorry all this has happened to you and Savilla, too,” she replied in a halting voice. “We’re taking the kids home, and then Bishop Tom’s giving Nellie and me a ride to the hospital. I—I have no idea what we’ll say to Dat, or if he’ll even be able to hear us. But it seems like the right thing to do.”
“Somebody should be with him. And you’ll need to take care of the hospital details,” Josiah pointed out. “I wish you both comfort and strength.”
“Denki, Josiah. With the help of our family and friends—and the love of Jesus—we’ll come out on the other side of this. We will,” Annie Mae added emphatically.
Josiah admired her strength in the face of such a daunting task. While he’d always regretted losing his parents as a youngster—not really getting to know them, or to say good-bye to them—at least he’d not seen them burned to a crisp. Once again he wondered what God had been doing when his mamm and dat had drowned in the flood and why He’d left two little children without their parents—just as the six Knepp kids had lost their mothers years ago and might well lose their dat, too.
Josiah caught sight of Rebecca and scolded himself for succumbing to self-pity and such a lack of faith again. Miriam’s daughter had lost her home, her clothing—everything—yet as she spoke with Derek Shotwell and another English fellow, she appeared animated rather than destitute. Although her smudged eye makeup reminded Josiah of a raccoon’s mask, he sensed a hopefulness about Rebecca that made him downright curious, considering her belongings—maybe even her computer—had been destroyed that evening.
“The insurance adjuster has already spoken with the firefighters,” the balding man alongside Derek was sa
ying. “No matter what the arson investigation reveals, the building that housed the Sweet Seasons and the Schrocks’ quilt shop is covered—and we’ll help with replacing Ben’s smithy, as well.”
Josiah stopped a few feet away from Rebecca and the men who were speaking with her, puzzled. Amish folks never carried insurance—didn’t believe in it. So why was this fellow talking about adjusters and promising to replace the burned buildings?
Rebecca nodded as she listened. “I’ll help Mamma, Ben, and Mary Schrock list all the appliances and tools and inventory they lost so we can figure out the replacement value for all that stuff,” she said. “If their ledgers were lost in the fire, we might not be able to document everything—”
“But we’ll be able to put them back in business sooner rather than later,” the English fellow beside Derek remarked as he slipped his arm around Rebecca’s shoulders. “It looks like you’ll be getting a whole new wardrobe and a laptop, too, sweetie.”
Unable to corral his curiosity any longer, Josiah approached the little group as the last of the visitors were leaving the front room. “Rebecca, I’m really sorry about your apartment,” he began, figuring it wasn’t his business to inquire about the insurance issue.
Rebecca grabbed his hands between hers. “Josiah! I’m so glad you weren’t checking your grills when they blew up,” she exclaimed. “We’re really fortunate that everyone was on this side of the road, away from the flying debris, too. This is my dad, Bob Oliveri—the man who raised me after I was washed downriver as a toddler.”
Bob reached out to shake Josiah’s hand. “It’s wonderful to meet you—despite tonight’s unfortunate circumstances,” he said with a kind smile. “I was at Luke and Nora’s wedding party, and one plateful of your cooking convinced me you’d be a fabulous addition to Miriam’s staff and menu.”
Josiah returned Bob’s firm grip. “Well, I appreciate that—even though it was my cooking that blew up two buildings tonight,” he added ruefully.
The Christmas Cradle Page 22
