“Jah, I’ve always thought so, too,” Miriam said, nodding.
“—so I’m wondering how I can set myself up to make a living . . .” Another idea popped into his mind out of nowhere—or had it been waiting for him at the side of the road all along? He paused to consider it. “What if I were to set up a small clinic? I haven’t looked inside, but that building a few blocks down the blacktop might work—”
The door in the kitchen swung open and Rebecca burst in with snowflakes shimmering in her wake. “Mamma, I just got your phone message, so—oops, sorry!” she added as she came into the dining area. “I’m interrupting something.”
“Nah, honey-bug, you’re just in time for some of your sister’s warm cobbler with Tom’s ice cream,” Miriam replied as she jumped up to hug her daughter. “Always gut to see ya, Rebecca. Mercy, but your cheeks have the pertiest roses in them today.”
Andy smiled at the way this daughter in tight jeans and a red plaid jacket seemed so at home here among these Plain folks. It was another testimony to the Lantz family’s unlimited love that they had accepted Rebecca, knowing she had no inclination to become Amish.
“I wanted to tell ya that the Knepp girls are stayin’ in the apartment with Rhoda until they figure out where else to land,” Miriam continued in a more serious voice. “Ira and Luke are over at Hiram’s now, loadin’ up the last of their clothes and what-not, along with Jerusalem’s goats.”
Rebecca’s jaw dropped. “Holy cow, what did I miss at dinner yesterday? You can’t tell me Hiram’s letting all four of them move out.”
Ben laughed. “If you’d seen Aunt Jerusalem walkin’ away from that table, tellin’ Hiram he could clean it all up after he finished eatin’, you’d see why he’s not likely to give those gals much trouble. It’s a long, complicated story and we’ll tell ya the rest later,” he added as he pulled a chair out for her.
“Jah, Hiram’s probably sweet talkin’ them today, askin’ them to stay and take care of his kids,” Miriam added with a wry smile.
Rebecca’s eyes were wide as she took this in. “So where are you living now, Mamma?”
“Thanks to this fine fella,” Miriam said as she grabbed Ben’s hand, “there’s a perty new bedroom set already moved into our new house. The Brenneman boys finished it a few days ago, ya know. Got it all swept up and ready, so I’m bunkin’ there.”
Andy watched Rhoda go to the kitchen for another bowl and spoon. Despite all the shifting around that must have happened on very short notice, her eyes were twinkling and she didn’t seem the least bit put out about having two unexpected roommates. This was something like the TV soap operas his mom watched, and he felt honored that these folks would discuss their crisis with him in their midst.
A grin twitched on Rebecca’s lips as she sat down. “Bunkin’ there by yourself, Mamma?”
Her mother blushed and waved her off while Ben laughed out loud. “Jah, she is, for a few days, anyway. I’m stayin’ out of her way while she decides where-all she wants to put everything,” he replied. “Then, when my family shows up for the wedding, the place’ll be packed—like a Hooley hotel! But the bottom line is, ya have a place to stay with us, Rebecca. Whenever ya want to move in.”
“Oh, but I couldn’t—you’ll be newlyweds! You’ll want your privacy and—”
Ben gazed directly at Rebecca while Rhoda stood beside her, spooning up a huge bowl of dessert. Andy went warm inside. This was how the Lantzes and the Hooleys worked things out. Always room for one more . . . or a whole family.
“Trust me, Rebecca. Your mamm and I had Micah and his brothers build the dawdi haus on the farthest end away from our bedroom,” Ben assured her with a wink. “Ya have your own outside door, too, so ya can come and go as ya please. It’s got a bedroom, a bath, a sittin’ room, and a little kitchen. We’re tickled ya want to be here in Willow Ridge with us, honey-girl. After the wedding, it’s not like anybody else will be stayin’ there anytime soon.”
The expression on Rebecca’s face mirrored the way Andy was feeling as he watched these family dynamics in action. What wondrous love was this, that everyone accommodated each other’s needs? He knew that Amish families often had three generations under one roof, and this conversation was another reason for him to hope that these generous, compassionate people would consider him worthy of Rhoda.
“Well, I can’t thank you enough,” Rebecca murmured. Then she turned to smile at Andy. “But I butted right in to whatever you were talking about. I’ll feed my face now and be quiet!”
Rhoda giggled on the other side of him, scraping her bowl with her spoon. “Andy was just sayin’ how, with his new nursin’ degree, he might wanna open a clinic here in Willow Ridge.”
Andy nodded, grasping the slender hand that slipped into his under the table. “I’m not cut out to be a farmer—”
“We’ve got plenty of that type around here already,” Preacher Tom pointed out. “Truth be told, long as you’ve got a stable for your horses, it’s not like ya have to have a lot of acreage. Some families keep enough land to raise hay and grain for their livestock, but anymore, with risin’ property prices, that’s gettin’ less common. A lot of Plain folks have to find work away from home to support themselves these days.”
“Long as we’ve got a big garden spot, I’m gut with that,” Rhoda said. Then she squeezed his hand. “But we’re all peckin’ at ya like biddy hens instead of lettin’ ya have your say, Andy. We carry on this way sometimes.”
Andy chuckled. “I don’t know how much land goes with that vacant building,” he said, “and maybe it’s not even a good investment. But from the outside, it seems feasible to have a small clinic in the downstairs and maybe use the upstairs for living quarters. I jotted down the phone number—”
“So give them a call and we’ll ride down there!” The color in Rhoda’s cheeks suggested she had more on her mind than poking around in a vacant building. “We could hitch up the sleigh. It could be your first drivin’ lesson with a horse, Andy.”
“And if that building doesn’t work out,” Ben said, “ya might get the Brenneman boys to build ya just the right kind of place. Maybe a home with a clinic on the side.”
As Preacher Tom caught Andy’s gaze, he tented his hands beneath his chin. “I’m gonna toss a wet blanket on this talk for a minute, so you’ll understand this issue better from the Old Order viewpoint before ya invest your money in that building,” he said in a low voice.
“I appreciate that,” Andy replied. “And I’ll respect whatever you have to say.”
Tom nodded, taking the time to compose his thoughts. “I’ve known girls who took some nurse’s training during their rumspringa, and when they became midwives after joinin’ the church, we welcomed their skills. Likewise, the church elders have no say about you settin’ up a practice now, as an English fella. And everyone here understands your need to support your family.”
Andy gripped Rhoda’s hand, waiting for the other shoe to drop. This idea for starting a clinic seemed so right, even though it had just popped into his mind—and everyone here seemed so enthused about it—that he hoped the minister wasn’t going to close his practice before it even opened.
“The final decision about your clinic will be the bishop’s,” Preacher Tom continued. “While all Old Order districts follow the Ordnung, these unwritten rules vary from one community to the next depending on the bishop’s interpretation of them . . . and his personality, as well, for some are more lenient than others. I don’t know who our next bishop’ll be, but he may well deny ya membership in the church if you’re runnin’ a clinic. Or ya might have to close it down before ya can join. Just keep that in mind as ya make your plans.”
Andy sighed. Everyone around the table was nodding, their initial excitement subdued. But the minister’s reality check brought up another concern he had about his potential new career, so maybe he’d better spell it out before he committed to the Plain lifestyle.
“I’m wondering how I’ll be able to prac
tice without the medical technology I’ve come to depend on.” He let this idea settle in for a moment. These folks had no idea about the amount of information he could obtain online for treating patients, not to mention how a computer would help him with the recordkeeping and accessing of patient data. “And I’ll need electricity to operate the most basic computer equipment. I suppose I could adjust to keeping handwritten records and consulting big medical books, but I’m concerned that my skills will become outdated very quickly without the Internet.”
Preacher Tom pondered this for a moment. “Keep in mind that your medical expertise will be years ahead of what we’ve got now,” he said. “We Amish depend on God’s power to heal, or to determine we’re not strong enough to survive. That’s just the way of it.”
“Yes, I certainly heard about that from Hiram.” Andy folded his hands on the table. He wanted to show his willingness to adapt, for as this minister had told him earlier, the changes made would all be on his side of this journey. “Anyway, we might look at this building and see right off that it won’t work.”
“God’ll find a way for ya to have what ya really need,” Miriam pointed out. She gestured around her café, her arms open. “Missouri law required me to have electricity to run this place, so I partnered with three Mennonite gals who were allowed to be on the grid.”
“And now that Dad owns the building—and has a daughter with a degree in graphic design,” Rebecca said, “Mamma even has a website. And so does the new gristmill. Sometimes it’s not what you know, it’s who,” she added with a purposeful smile.
Andy could see the cogs turning in Rebecca’s mind. It was amazing, as the two sisters sat side by side, how alike they were even though they had grown up in cultures that were worlds apart. Nature versus nurture, he thought. It would make for an interesting study as he got to know Rebecca better . . . not to mention spending more time with Rhoda, now that everyone here seemed comfortable with him.
“Why not call that real estate agency to see if someone can show it to you today?” Rebecca suggested. “And if you don’t mind me tagging along on your sleigh ride, I might look the place over, too. We just never know how God may make our hopes and dreams come true.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
“Now that we’ve got Jack hitched to the sleigh, we’ll back out of the shed and into the lane,” Rhoda said as she took the front seat beside Andy. “And you’ll have a little time for drivin’ before that agent’s to meet us. Are ya ready?”
Andy’s heart was racing as she handed him the reins. When Rhoda had introduced him to the tall, sturdy draft horse, letting him stroke its straw-colored mane, she had told him that horses responded to the confident tone of a driver’s voice—or they would hear his fear. So he was being very careful about what he said. Rebecca sat in the seat behind them, ready for a picture-postcard ride in a one-horse open sleigh. Yet he couldn’t forget how he’d come here a week ago to find a horse lying in agony, still hitched to the Knepp sleigh as the twins lay motionless on the roadside.
He whispered in Rhoda’s ear. “What if he won’t do as I tell him? What if we run into—”
Rhoda took the leather traces. “Jack, back!” she said as she tugged until the reins went tight.
The tawny Belgian pushed the sleigh toward the open doorway without even looking behind them. Andy’s jaw dropped.
“Gut boy, Jack. Back . . . back. Jah, now here we go, fella!” Rhoda sang out.
And indeed, the horse trotted down the Lantzes’ long lane as though he was eager to take them wherever they wanted to be. Rhoda showed no hesitation whatsoever even though the gelding stood much taller than she and weighed more than two thousand pounds.
“This is so cool!” Rebecca murmured.
Yes, it was! This time when Rhoda handed him the reins, Andy took them, mesmerized by the muted clip-clop! clip-clop! of the horse’s hooves on the snow and the merry jingle of the harness bells. “Now what?” he asked quietly.
“When we get as far as the smithy, you’ll want to slow him down. Then ya check for traffic and say gee,” she instructed. “That’s horse talk for turnin’ right.”
What would he do if that behemoth of a Belgian bolted into the roadway? Andy didn’t have a clue, but this leap of faith was only the first of many he’d have to take . . . so he relaxed with it. He trusted that Rhoda, an excellent, patient teacher, was at his side to correct any mistakes he made.
As they got to the smithy, Ben waved at them from the back of his red farrier wagon. The girls waved back. Andy concentrated on pulling the reins with just the right amount of tension so the horse slowed as they approached the road. “Gut boy, Jack,” he called out as he looked both ways. “Gee!”
The horse whickered and shook his head, making the bells jangle happily. He turned onto the blacktop, easily negotiating the curve so the sleigh missed the ditch.
“Jah, here we go, fella!” Andy said. He grinned at Rhoda. “Maybe this isn’t so hard, after all.”
“Oh, ya gotta watch for cars and always be aware of the surface your horse is trottin’ on,” Rhoda replied. “But Jack’s been pullin’ our buggies and sleighs for a lot of years now. He’s a fine drivin’ horse—aren’t ya, fella?”
Again the Belgian shook his mane, as though he loved to make the bells jingle in response.
“Jack was a colt that didn’t live up to the bishop’s standards. Has one sock that’s not white, so my dat got him for a gut price,” Rhoda remarked. “Makes me wonder what-all’s gonna happen with Hiram’s Belgian business when he starts that new colony.”
“Yeah, that’s an awfully fancy barn he has at Bishop’s Ridge,” Rebecca replied from the back. “But he’s making all his plans very carefully. You can be sure of that.”
“Taking full advantage of whatever he can squeeze out of that Hammond fellow, too,” Andy added. They were passing in front of the Sweet Seasons, moving smoothly along. “Now what, Miss Instructor?”
“Let’s turn right here, down the Brennemans’ lane. We can follow it past their house and across the Riehls’ back cornfield, and we’ll come out on this side of Preacher Tom’s place.”
Andy tugged slightly on the reins. “Easy, Jack,” he sang out. “Gee here, fella.”
As though he knew the route by heart, the Belgian curved toward the next driveway. Andy breathed easier. Rhoda sat close beside him, smiling proudly.
“This is where Rachel’s Micah grew up—where Mamma’s cookin’ partner, Naomi, lives,” she explained. “And that big metal building is their cabinetmakin’ shop, where we’ll serve the wedding feast after Mamma and Ben tie the knot next Thursday.”
“This is all so fascinating, how you hold the ceremony in your home. And then you feed all those people,” Andy remarked.
“It’s quite an experience,” Rebecca agreed. “I was in awe the entire day of Rachel’s wedding, watching everything go like clockwork with everyone helping cook and set tables and then clear them. Met a lot of people—my own family members, most of them—and I’m still figuring out which faces go with what names,” she said with a chuckle. “So don’t feel like the odd man out, Andy. Everyone’s really friendly.”
He smiled over his shoulder at her, grateful for such encouragement. And wasn’t it the most glorious sensation to be gliding along in this winter wonderland of snow-covered fields, where crystal-covered trees glimmered in the sunlight? “The kids are going to wish they could’ve come for this ride.”
“We’ll bring them along real soon.” Rhoda slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow. “Taylor and Brett’ll be amazed to see how their dat’s catchin’ on to so many new things. And that,” she said, pointing toward a barn flanked by two silos and a two-story white house, “is Preacher Tom’s dairy farm. We’d best be headin’ toward your appointment now. You’ll want to say haw as we get closer to the road.”
He was getting the hang of this! As they passed the minister’s side yard, Andy called out the turning command and thanked God for a well-
trained horse and a loving teacher. Within a few minutes they had reached the county blacktop again, and he directed Jack toward the vacant building. A tan SUV was parked alongside it, and with Rhoda’s help he pulled into the small lot and parked the sleigh.
“Gut boy, Jack.” Andy slid to the ground, helped Rhoda out, and then took a moment to stroke the Belgian’s muscular neck. He was a handsome horse, even if he hadn’t made the grade as one of Hiram’s show-quality stars.
A stylish woman emerged from the car and extended her hand. “Andy? I’m Jennifer Bradley. I brought along some information sheets about this property,” she said in a well-modulated voice, “and I’m happy to answer any questions you might have. The owner passed away a few months ago, so it could be to your advantage that his kids want to settle the estate as soon as possible.”
“May I have copies of those sheets, as well?” Rebecca asked.
Andy was curious about her interest in the place, but a tingle of anticipation kept him from doubting. As they stepped inside, a stale, closed-up odor hit them, but the rooms looked clean, overall.
Jennifer gave them a rundown of utility rates and other business information, but he was mostly tuned in to how the space flowed . . . where he might have a reception area and examination rooms, and how accessible it would be for disabled patients. A public restroom was in place, but the whole interior needed paint and carpet, plus another wall or two to separate the waiting area from the treatment rooms. There was no way of telling whether the electrical wiring and plumbing needed an overhaul until contractors looked things over. Rhoda’s gaze swept the entire area as she walked quietly beside him.
“And here’s the stairway,” Jennifer said as she opened the door to a back hall. “Shall we go on up?”
As they ascended, Andy knew his mom would never be able to handle these stairs. However, the rooms on the top floor seemed very well suited for an apartment. A small kitchen was already here, as well as a full bathroom.
Winter of Wishes Page 23
