Rachel polished off her sample, considering this. “Why not sell it, then? Nobody else around here has goats, so your cheese would be a real popular thing—maybe with those grains the boys’ll be sellin’ at the mill.”
“That’s what I said, too.” Glancing toward the front room, Annie Mae lowered her voice. “And who knows? If Luke and Ira take up my offer to bake for them, that and sellin’ goat cheese may be how I get by after . . . Dat spells out his new plan.”
The three older women were taking the baked hens from the oven, all sizzling and golden brown. “Time to be gettin’ everything on the table, looks like,” Rhoda said in a louder voice. “I’ll put this cookie plate over by the cherry cobbler and that cranberry upside-down cake. I can see what I’m havin’ for my first dessert!”
“Jah, I made that,” Nellie said as they carried food to the table. “With the cornmeal texture, it’s somethin’ different from your usual pie or cake. Looks perty for Christmas, too.”
After the steaming platters and bowls of food covered the center of the table, plus a card table beside Jerusalem’s place, everyone sat down. Joey and Josh perched on pillows in their seats, while Timmy and Sara grinned from wooden high chairs that had been carved by a family member generations ago. What with the Hooleys, the Knepps, and the Lantzes, seventeen people lined the sides of the long kitchen table, and for that Rhoda was thankful as they bowed in silent prayer. Whatever’s cookin’ beneath the surface today, Lord Jesus, I’m askin’ Ya to guide our thoughts and our words if things get touchy.
Everyone passed the roasted chicken, mashed potatoes, and hot vegetables. A big glass bowl of fresh cranberry sauce gleamed like a ruby, and Nazareth had made a green gelatin salad with fruit and marshmallows for the kids. Soon Rhoda’s plate didn’t have any space to spare. Oh, but Mamma’s chicken with stuffing smelled heavenly, while Nazareth’s creamed corn enticed her, too. Luke and Ira had small mountains of mashed potatoes on their plates. With their other food piled so deep, she wondered why everything didn’t ooze off onto the tablecloth.
“So how’s it feel to be home from the hospital, eatin’ home-cooked food?” Ben asked the twins.
Joey held up a chicken leg with a grin that looked lopsided on his bandaged face. “It’s gut,” he declared. “And Monday we go back to play games with a special nurse!”
“Jah, it’s thare-pee,” Josh confirmed as he scooped potatoes with his spoon.
“Physical therapy,” Jerusalem clarified. “That’s to make sure your arms and legs heal right, so all your parts’ll be movin’ the way they’re supposed to.”
And isn’t that interesting, after the way Hiram called us on the carpet for sendin’ his boys off in the ambulance? Rhoda tucked a forkful of green beans into her mouth as she stole a quick glance at him. He had remained uncommonly quiet during the meal. The other adults’ faces showed surprise and curiosity as they wondered about Hiram’s change of heart—not to mention how much the twins’ treatment was costing him.
From the head of the table—for he refused to eat at a separate one in his own home—Hiram noted the reactions around him. He laid down his fork with a purposeful sigh. “After I considered how Joey almost died on the side of the road,” he said somberly, “I realized that the medical attention they received was the will of God—a gift from our Lord, come down at Christmas. So today we’re feasting rather than mourning a lost child. My sons will be strong and healthy come time to begin our monumental task of organizing the new colony God has decreed as my mission.”
There it was, conversational bait tossed out for someone to snap up. Hiram was testing to see who would go with him, like sheep faithfully following their shepherd.
Annie Mae and Nellie reached for the bowls in front of them to pass them again, but Hiram held up his hand to halt them.
“I see today’s dinner, which was Jerusalem’s idea,” he said as he grasped the maidel’s wrist, “as a providential gathering of some key citizens of Willow Ridge. Every one of you has important skills to offer a new colony. I value your commitment to Plain principles, so I’m offering you choice tracts of land at half their market value.”
Rhoda’s mouthful of food went down before she was ready and she had to gulp water to keep from choking. This was getting interesting! And Hiram knew just when to pause . . . how to make folks squirm in the silence they weren’t filling with their responses.
“Micah, we’ll certainly need your carpentry skills early on, for building the first homes, businesses, and the schoolhouse,” their host continued. “I’ve run the first in a series of ads in The Budget, inviting folks from all over to join us here in Missouri, where good farmland is still affordable. The sooner a core group of settlers is established, the more desirable our new colony will appear.”
Micah’s beard, now long enough to frame his face in blond waves, rippled as he wiped his mouth. He glanced across the table at Rachel. “I see your point, Hiram, but my brothers and I are supportin’ our dat and mamm. Couldn’t even consider movin’—”
“And Ben, every settlement needs a farrier. A restaurant is a must, as well, for those who will be laying pipe for the water system and other infrastructure for our business district.” Hiram gazed directly at Mamma. “We’ve had our differences, it’s true. But that’s how God refines us in His fire to make us stronger for the challenges ahead.”
Ben was shaking his head, opening his mouth to respond, when Annie Mae tossed down her napkin. “I’m not goin’ with ya.” She stood up and left the table.
“Me neither,” Nellie chimed in as she followed her sister through the front room.
A stunned silence rang in the kitchen as Hiram glared after his two errant daughters. Wide-eyed, the four younger children stopped eating to watch their father’s reaction. Rhoda’s pulse raced, knowing that her friends had just invited all manner of chastisement.
“Come back here. Face up to the consequences of your disobedience,” Hiram called after them. “You know I’ll deal with you more harshly later if you don’t.”
Footsteps clattered up the oak stairs at the far end of the house. Rhoda suspected the Knepp sisters would be packing up their belongings. How could they possibly stay here, after defying their father in front of folks who weren’t family?
Jerusalem removed her hand from under Hiram’s. “I’ll not be joinin’ ya, either. May God strike me down if I’m defyin’ His will, but this scheme of yours sounds like something hatched in the Devil’s own den. I want no part of it.”
“My feelings exactly,” Nazareth declared. “I’m stayin’ here in Willow Ridge with my nephews.”
“Jah, even if I weren’t finishin’ a new house for Miriam,” Ben chimed in, “I wouldn’t have the least inclination to start fresh again, someplace else.”
“Glad you said so, Ben,” Mamma remarked pertly, “because for sure and for certain I’m not leavin’ my bakery—or my new home—if ya take up with Hiram.”
Rhoda stifled a chuckle as Rachel covered her grin with her hand. Oh, but the look on Hiram’s face could’ve curdled milk.
“Don’t bother askin’ us to leave, either, what with our mill just openin’,” Luke Hooley said. “My family’s stickin’ together in Willow Ridge, and their decision feels right to me.”
Ira crossed his arms at his chest, nodding.
Hiram’s eyebrows rose slowly as he focused on each one of them in turn. “It saddens me that I’ve offered you a golden opportunity, a ticket to the promised land, and you won’t look beyond your immediate plans—your convenience—to answer the Lord’s call,” he said in a low voice. “You’re like the servant in the parable of the talents, who buried his master’s money in the ground and had nothing to show for it on the day of reckoning.”
Another silence filled the kitchen, but this time it felt different. Rhoda noted a resolute set to the Hooley brothers’ faces, and as Mamma scooted her chair back, she and Rachel stood up, too.
“Jerusalem, Nazareth,” her mother said quietly, �
��it was mighty nice of ya to include us in your plans today, but I’d be imposin’ on Hiram if I stayed any longer.”
“Jah, it’s not like any of us has much appetite left.” Jerusalem rose, as well, while Nazareth knocked the spoon against the green-bean bowl as though she was ready to clear the table.
“I’m not finished eating,” Hiram said. “Sit down. All of you.”
“I agree with Aunt Jerusalem,” Ben replied. “Had ya confessed and been voted back into gut standing with the membership, Hiram, this new colony might feel more like an opportunity than another one of your escapades.”
“That’s not a wise thing to say, considering you and Miriam are to be married on Thursday,” Hiram pointed out.
Ben smiled, the picture of confidence. “Jeremiah Shetler’s comin’ to do the honors,” he replied. “What with your position as our bishop lookin’ hazy, I wanted to be sure Miriam and I would be legal when we tied the knot. Stickler for followin’ the rules that ya are, I think ya see my point, ain’t so?”
Hiram gripped the edge of the table, his dark eyes flashing. “You’ll be sorry you said that, Hooley,” he stated as Ben went for their coats.
“Ben’s as honest as the day is long.” Jerusalem shoved her chair under the table with a loud whack. “You go right ahead and finish your dinner, Hiram. And then ya can clean it up, too. I’ve had enough.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Saturday morning Andy slowed down to peer out the car window at a two-story building on the outskirts of Willow Ridge. It had housed a hair salon years ago, and most recently had been a floral and gift shop, but neither business had done well in a predominantly Plain area. So now it stood empty, beckoning him.
On impulse he pulled into the lot and jotted down the number on the faded for-sale sign propped in its big window. He’d been thrumming with a sense of hopeful anticipation all week—the feeling that his meeting with Rhoda, Tom Hostetler, Miriam, and Ben would open the portal to the major life change he’d been searching for. This vacant storefront would require a lot of renovation, but he didn’t want to overlook any potential piece of the puzzle he sensed was his future.
With God, all things are possible. Jesus’s words from the story of the rich young ruler had become his mantra lately, and as the Sweet Seasons Bakery Café came into sight, Andy’s pulse accelerated. The thought of seeing Rhoda again made him happy. The sparkling winter sky reminded him of her eyes. As he pulled into the parking lot, he grinned at the horse-drawn buggy tied to the café’s railing. If all went well today, that would soon be his mode of transportation . . . even if he had no idea how to hitch up a horse.
When the door burst open and Rhoda rushed out, coatless, her excitement swept him away. “Andy, it’s so gut to see ya!” she exclaimed as she grabbed him in a tight hug. “I sweetened everybody up with a pan of rhubarb cobbler to go with our coffee.”
Andy’s breath caught in his throat as she kissed his cheek, his lips—right there in the parking lot, where her mother and Preacher Tom could see them through the window. He savored the clean scent of her . . . the open affection he had craved for so long. “Denki, Rhoda,” he murmured. “Let’s get you inside before you freeze.”
“Puh! You’re my sunshine, Andy. I’ve been waitin’ ever so long for this day.” She glanced toward the car then. “Didn’t you bring your mamm and the kids?”
“Mom’s under the weather with a cold. And while Taylor, Brett, and I have talked about what it would mean to become Amish,” he replied quietly, “the decision is mine to make. Once God and I are on board with this commitment, they’ll be quick to adjust—and Mom will stay with her own Methodist beliefs.”
Rhoda’s smile softened. “I’m thinkin’ your priorities are in the right order, talkin’ things out with adults today.”
As she led him inside, Andy again prayed that he was doing the right thing. What if he couldn’t hack being Amish? What if he was too dependent upon the conveniences and gadgets he’d used all his life? And if he jumped through all the hoops toward membership, for the months—maybe years—that might require, and these Plain folks found him unworthy . . . what would he do then?
And yet, as he saw the friendly, familiar people around Miriam’s table with their mugs of coffee, and that pan of crisp that made the room smell sweetly divine, Andy dared to believe that the life he’d dreamed of would fall into place.
“Gut mornin’ to ya, Andy,” Miriam chirped. She began to spoon large portions of the cobbler into bowls. “And denki for bein’ yet another excuse to celebrate the holidays with Rhoda’s bakin’ and Preacher Tom’s homemade ice cream.”
“Denki for talking with me today,” Andy replied as he nodded to Ben and Tom. “With your wedding coming up next week—”
“And we hope ya can join us for that,” Ben insisted as he stood to shake Andy’s hand.
“Won’t be like you’re the only English person there, either,” Rhoda chimed in. “My sister Rebecca’s comin’; and her dat; and Derek Shotwell, the banker; and Sheila, our driver. You and the kids and your mamm could see how we do things then, ain’t so?”
Not even here for a minute, and he’d been invited to Miriam and Ben’s wedding. Andy sat down in the chair beside Rhoda’s. “I’m flabbergasted that you would include us, and—and I thank you from the bottom of my heart.”
“Gut way to meet a lot of the locals, too,” Preacher Tom remarked as he placed generous scoops of vanilla ice cream on the warm cobbler. “And an introduction to sittin’ through our church services, gettin’ your backside accustomed to a hard wooden bench.”
As he accepted the first bowl of cobbler from the minister, Andy chuckled. “Jah, I have a lot to learn. If I offend you by trying out the little phrases I’ve heard Rhoda say, that’s not my intent.”
“Rhoda’s a fine teacher. After the way ya talked to me about becomin’ one of us,” Tom said in a rolling German accent, “I want to give ya every chance to succeed at it. We’re feelin’ a lot freer about this because Hiram’s taken himself out of the picture, ya see. He’s sayin’ God commanded him to start up a new colony. And nobody at this table’s inclined to go with him.”
Andy paused with a spoonful of cobbler halfway to his mouth. Was it his place to reveal what he’d overheard in the hospital? Or were these folks, in their subtle way, inquiring if he had more information? “How are the twins doing?” he asked cautiously.
“Oh, Joey and Josh were holdin’ up chicken drumsticks at dinner yesterday, talkin’ about physical therapy,” Miriam said. She looked him directly in the eye, her expression intense. “Myself, I’m havin’ a hard time swallowin’ Hiram’s change of heart. How on God’s gut earth did an English doctor talk him into lettin’ the boys stay in the hospital all those days and then get therapy, too?”
Andy admired Miriam’s direct question. He set down his spoon. “I overheard an interesting phone call at the hospital that Friday night after the wreck, when I was working my shift,” he began quietly. “Your bishop—”
“Not anymore,” Tom murmured.
“—was on the phone with the real estate agent who ran into the boys’ horse. Hiram insisted that Mr. Hammond would pay all of the twins’ medical expenses—”
“There ya have it,” Miriam muttered.
“—and that he would also compensate for the dead horse and whatever else Hiram demanded, in exchange for not pressing charges,” Andy continued. “Hammond is a representative in the state legislature. He doesn’t want it to get out that two boys nearly died because he lost control of his car while talking on his cell phone.”
Tom’s face fell. “This sounds even worse than I’d imagined.” The preacher looked at Miriam and Ben. “Yesterday when Hiram was offerin’ ya tickets to this new promised land, did he let on where it was?”
“Nope. He said he’d give all the details at the next preachin’ service,” Rhoda replied soberly.
“Oh, no he’s not.” Tom shook his head slowly, disbelief mingling with a sad unde
rstanding. “There’s but one thing to do now. Andy, correct me if I’m jumpin’ to the wrong conclusion. Do ya suppose Hiram’s gettin’ his tract of land from this Realtor fella as part of the deal?”
Andy smiled ruefully. “That was my first thought. If you’d like me to find out more—”
“I don’t wanna hear another thing,” the preacher declared as he held up his hands. “I’m sorry this has got in the way of our real topic for this morning’s meeting, but I appreciate your bein’ up-front with us, Andy. I believe you’ve entered our lives for a gut purpose—not that our Rhoda isn’t a fine reason to come to Willow Ridge, of course.”
The faces around the table relaxed. Rhoda nudged him with her elbow. “See there, Andy? They’re comin’ around to our way of thinkin’.”
As she took a huge bite of her cobbler, which oozed with melted ice cream, her girlish grin tickled something inside him. But there was no getting around the realities he faced. “I hope you’ll all be willing to help me with the requirements Preacher Tom has told me about. I understand it might take a couple years—or even more—to be accepted by your members. I have a lot to learn . . . a lifetime of English thinking to overcome,” he said quietly. “I’ve put my house up for sale, because after some serious talks with my kids, they’re willing to give this a shot. They love you that much, Rhoda.”
Her cheeks turned as pink as her cobbler. “They’re mighty special. And ya know I’ll help them—and you—with learnin’ the Dietsch language or anything else ya need.”
“We’ll all give ya a hand, Andy,” Ben reassured him. “Once folks get to know ya, and understand that you’re sincere about changin’ your life for Rhoda, you’ll find out how we Amish go out of our way to help each other.”
“Which brings up the other major question I have.” Andy’s thoughts were racing as fast as his pulse. This conversation affirmed all the hopes and dreams he’d known these past several weeks, with the exception of one. “I believe my nursing skills are a valuable asset to this community, and a gift from God—”
Winter of Wishes Page 22
