Winter of Wishes

by Charlotte Hubbard

  Brett considered this as he wrapped the cords around the plastic figures. As he placed them in their big box, he said, “If we won’t be having electricity in our new house, we can’t use our tree lights or these Santas anyway. Do . . . do you suppose we ought to donate them to the Goodwill store in Morning Star? So some family without much money can have them for next year?”

  “That’s a fine . . . idea for all of this . . . stuff,” Betty answered from her seat on the couch. “I kept out . . . the special ornaments from your . . . first Christmases, but I think we can let . . . the rest of them go. Don’t you?”

  It was a sobering thought for two kids who had grown up with so many English Christmas traditions, so Rhoda let Brett and Taylor consider their responses without further comment. She was taping a big box shut when the doorbell rang repeatedly.

  “Open up! I know you’re in there!” a woman’s voice exclaimed. The door opened, and with a gust of wind a tall, slender blonde walked in. She looked surprised to see them all sitting right there in the front room.

  But surprise didn’t nearly cover the looks on the kids’ faces, or the thundering of Rhoda’s heart as this unannounced visitor took off her sunglasses.

  “Mom?” Taylor rasped.

  “Mommy!” Brett yelped as he bolted up from the floor.

  As both children rushed into the woman’s arms, a sense of dread swallowed Rhoda whole. She glanced at Betty, who looked as if she was having a nightmare. While nothing could have prepared her for this situation, Rhoda was wishing Andy had told her more about the circumstances of Megan’s leaving the family. Hadn’t he said she was living in California now, remarried?

  “So it’s true,” Megan said in an accusing voice. “Your dad has taken up with this—this backwoods Amish girl, and she’s brainwashing you into joining their cult along with him. Pack your bags, kids. You’re coming with me.”

  Rhoda’s heart was pounding so hard she couldn’t reply. Small comfort that Taylor and Brett backed out of their mother’s arms then, shaking their heads.

  “It’s not that way, Mom,” Taylor declared in a strained voice. “Rhoda’s been taking care of us, cleaning the house—”

  “Which proves my point,” Megan said as she glared at Rhoda. “If your father is crazy enough to consider joining the Amish church—marrying an uneducated woman who’s only fit to cook and clean—he’s obviously lost his mind. Not to mention his ability to look after you.”

  “N-no, it’s . . . not like that,” Betty protested. “Andy and . . . Rhoda are—”

  “And what’s happened to you?” Megan demanded. “If you’ve had a stroke, Betty, you’re no more able to care for my children than Andy is. My God, this family has fallen apart since I left. Get packing, kids.”

  “But we need to call Dad—”

  “Leave your father out of this. Thank God somebody warned me about this mess before it was too late. And you”—Megan pointed at Rhoda—“get out of my house. Get away from my children.”

  Rhoda swallowed hard. Never in her life had she been spoken to in such a tone, and she didn’t know how to handle it. Betty, looking very worried and frail, had grabbed her walker and was heading for the kitchen to escape this craziness, but somebody had to take a stand. Somebody had to talk some sense into this woman, even if she was the children’s mother.

  Be with me, Lord, because if I ever needed Ya—if Andy ever needed Ya—it’s right this minute.

  “Let’s think about this,” Rhoda said, gathering her courage. It wasn’t the Plain way to get angry or argumentative, but she was the one in charge while Andy couldn’t defend himself or his family. “The way I understand it, ya left these kids a couple years ago without much thought for what might happen to them. So what’s put this bee in your bonnet to show up now?”

  “Do you hear the way she talks?” Megan grilled her children. “Surely you know better than to believe what this unsophisticated—why, I bet they don’t even have indoor toilets in Willow Ridge! Why would you want to live that way? And live without electricity and your computer?”

  Taylor’s eyes widened. “But, Mom, we’ve been to Rhoda’s house. They do have bathrooms. And Rhoda—”

  “I’ve heard all I need to know about Rhoda—”

  “And who told ya all this? Who got ya stirred up so you’d come and torment your kids with stuff that’s not true?” Rhoda demanded. It was one thing not to fight with this woman, but another matter altogether that Megan was telling such blatant lies.

  Megan put her fist against her hip. “It doesn’t matter where I heard about you. It’s easy to see that every word of the letter was true. So leave. Now, before I call the police. I will not have my children’s minds poisoned with your religious tripe.”

  Run to the gas station. Call Andy. Bad enough that Taylor was starting to cry and Brett was gripping his sister’s hand, looking terribly confused. She might have no say in what the mother of these poor kids was about to do, but Andy certainly needed to know his ex-wife was planning to steal them away. As Rhoda grabbed her black coat and bonnet from the front closet, Taylor broke away from her mother to grab the back of Rhoda’s dress.

  “Please, Rhoda, don’t go! We’ll make Mom understand—”

  Tears erupted from her eyes and all Rhoda could do was lean toward the little girl and lightly touch her face. “Pray hard, honey-girl,” she whispered. “We’ll get this figured out and then—”

  “Out!” Megan ordered as she threw open the door.

  Blinded by her tears, Rhoda scurried outside and past a big van in the driveway, as fast as the slippery patches on the pavement allowed her to go. Her coat flapped around her body and the wind made her wet face feel like it was freezing, but she continued frantically down the block. At the intersection where Andy’s street met the county highway there was a gas station with a convenience store. She rushed inside.

  “Please, may I use a phone?” she gasped as the store’s warmth enveloped her. “Got an emergency at the Leitner place.”

  “Your cell dead?” the man behind the cash register asked gruffly.

  “Don’t have one. Please—”

  The attendant scowled but placed the store’s telephone up on the counter for her. “Don’t be long,” he groused. “If my boss finds out you’re making personal calls, I’m in big trouble.”

  Rhoda closed her eyes, desperately trying to recall Andy’s cell number. After her fingers punched the numbers, she waited breathlessly while it rang. Her pulse was thundering in her ears and she felt so afraid, but what could she do? Megan was the children’s mother . . . and that would never change, no matter how much Rhoda loved Andy and he loved her. And if the tall, pretty blonde had shown up out of the blue today, what would keep her from intruding on their lives anytime she chose to?

  Or would Andy change his mind about becoming Amish now? Rhoda squeezed her eyes shut, resigning herself to leaving a voice mail. Either he had his phone shut off during his shift or . . .

  “Jah, Andy, ya better head home, soon as ya get this message,” she rasped. “Megan showed up at the house, and well—she ordered me to get out, and—just please hurry! She told the kids to pack up so they could leave with her.”

  Rhoda hung up, ignoring the doubtful expression on the attendant’s face. Before he could take the phone back, she punched in Sheila’s number and prayed her driver wasn’t out with another customer, not answering her phone while she was behind the wheel.

  “Sheila?” she said. “Can ya come get me?” She told her English friend where to pick her up, thanked the attendant, and then stood in the front window to wait.

  She felt as though Jack the Belgian had kicked her in the chest: she couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t begin to think, what with her mind racing even faster than her heartbeat. Had she done the wrong thing, leaving the kids with that hateful, uninformed woman? Andy would be devastated if his ex-wife disappeared with his kids before he could get home . . .

  Devastated enough to give up his future
in Willow Ridge?

  If it came to his choosing between getting his children back and marrying her, Rhoda had no doubt what Andy’s decision would be. And this storm was blowing up the day after he had decided to start his clinic with Rebecca as his partner—after Bob Oliveri had already committed to buying the building for them. So many hopes were going to be ruined . . .

  When a familiar van pulled into the station’s driveway, Rhoda stepped out into the wind. The door opened and Rhoda swung herself up into the front seat beside Sheila, still so shaken she didn’t know what to say.

  “What on earth happened, Rhoda?” her driver asked in a concerned voice.

  Rhoda heaved a sigh, hugging herself. “I don’t rightly know. Andy’s ex-wife got a message that his kids were bein’ hornswoggled into joinin’ a cult, on account of how their dat’s takin’ instructions to become Amish. She ordered me out,” she added with a hitch in her voice. “If—if this is God’s way of tellin’ me I’m not to become part of their family, well . . . I don’t know what I’m gonna do, Sheila. I just don’t know.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  “Mom, slow down.” The hospital cafeteria was a noisy place to talk on a cell phone, so Andy covered his other ear to hear more clearly. “I can’t understand what you’re . . . no, Mom, think again,” he insisted, now concerned about her mental state. “Megan left us. She got married and went to live on the California coast with—”

  “N-no! She’s here,” his mother insisted in a low voice. “She . . . sent Rhoda away and—and she told the kids . . . to pack their bags. Andy, come home!”

  A sudden rush of anger made him swear under his breath. Why, after all this time of minimal communication with him and the kids, would Megan come back? And why was she ordering Taylor and Brett to pack without letting him know?

  “All right, Mom, I’m on my way,” he said as he hurried away from the table with his lunch tray. “Be careful. I’ll get there as fast as I can.” He clicked End and then noticed a voice mail waiting for him . . . heard the terror Rhoda was trying to mask as she left a message similar to his mother’s. She didn’t deserve whatever insults or accusations his ex had hurled at her, but Rhoda could take care of herself. He had to hurry if he was going to keep his kids safe.

  Dr. LaFarge was seated a few tables over and Andy was grateful that his supervisor understood the gravity of this emergency. Down the hallways and out the door he raced. He cranked the cold engine of his car and sped along the side roads, hoping to avoid a speeding ticket. How should he handle this totally unexpected situation?

  His kids must be so upset and confused after watching Megan send Rhoda away. Megan had always looked down her nose at the Plain folks who lived nearby. She considered them a nuisance when their buggies didn’t move off the pavement quickly enough, and she smirked at their old-fashioned clothing.

  As he rounded the corner of his street, he tromped on the gas and pulled into the driveway to block the exit of the cargo van idling there. Megan had opened its doors and was urging the kids to get in, while Brett pitched a fit and Taylor stood stiffly off to the side, crying.

  Andy shut off the ignition and leaped from his car. “And what is this about?” he demanded. Thank God both kids rushed toward him when he opened his arms. They clung to him as he figured out what to say next to the sleek blonde whose sunglasses masked her expression. “You signed over all responsibility for these children when—”

  “That was before you began indoctrinating them into a cult,” Megan replied coldly. “Oh, I met your little shoofly pie–maker, Rhoda. Sent her on her way so I could restore some sanity to my children’s lives.”

  “But, Mom, Rhoda loves us!” Taylor cried as she clutched Andy’s leg. “When you left us, we didn’t even know you were going. Didn’t even get to say good-bye.”

  “Rhoda cooks for us and—and she wants us to be her kids,” Brett wailed from Andy’s other side. “You’re gonna leave us again—aren’t you? And now that you’ve sent Rhoda away, who’s left here to love us?”

  Andy closed his eyes against the emotional wallop his kids’ words packed . . . the sting of their accusations. But they hadn’t said one thing that was incorrect or exaggerated.

  Megan’s smirk told him this was going to get even uglier. He leaned down to the children and spoke quietly. “Get in my car. Don’t unlock the doors for anyone but me, got it?”

  They nodded eagerly and clambered into the front seat. As Andy clicked the locks shut, he heard sirens in the distance, but right now he couldn’t be concerned with someone else’s catastrophe. He had his own fire to put out, and there was no doubt in his mind that someone was about to get burned.

  Lord, thanks for getting me here on time, and please take care of Rhoda. You’ve got to help me with the right questions, the right actions here. This is craziness, and we need to get to the bottom of it fast.

  “So what’s this about, really?” Andy repeated. When Megan grabbed for his car keys, he stuffed them in the deep pockets of his scrubs as he stepped away from her. “And why would you care what we’re doing? You took off with a guy who provided a much classier lifestyle than a mere teacher could give you. No running the kids to activities. No cooking dinner or dealing with their—”

  “What’s with the turquoise pants?” she asked with a smirk. “Don’t tell me you’re a veterinary assistant or a—”

  “I’m a registered nurse, thank you very much,” he retorted. “Rhoda’s family is proud that I’ve become a healer—”

  “Oh, please. Ever the idealist, figuring out what to be when you grow up. Going to school again instead of settling into a career that’ll make you any money,” she derided him. “I can’t believe a perpetual student like you would deny your children access to advanced education by making them become Amish. It really is time for me to reclaim my kids.”

  “Brett and Taylor may choose not to be baptized into the Amish faith when they’re of age, and I’ll totally understand that,” he replied stiffly. “What brought this on, Megan? You didn’t just take a notion to fly in from the coast—”

  Andy’s words were interrupted by the sirens that had been coming closer. He jumped aside when an ambulance raced up the driveway toward the house, closely followed by a fire truck and a police car that stopped at the curb. What on earth was going on here?

  Megan shook with her anger. “If you called these people here to—”

  “Hey, what’s going on?” Andy asked as the paramedics hopped from the ambulance. They were the same guys he’d worked with when Josh and Joey Knepp had wrecked their sleigh, and that restored a bit of his sanity.

  “Got a call from this address,” the driver said beneath the blare of the fire truck’s siren. “Somebody named Betty. Older lady who said she was having a stroke.”

  Mom! In the heat of his discussion with Megan, he’d forgotten about her. And here came Officer McClatchey, too, along with the guys from the fire truck.

  “We’d better get inside,” Andy said as he rushed toward the door.

  “But there are kids in this car—”

  “And they’re right where they need to be,” Andy said with a pointed look at the policeman. “I’ll fill you in on that situation once we’re sure my mother’s all right. This way, guys.”

  Once again Andy’s heart throbbed too hard. What if the shock of Megan’s return had traumatized his mother? “Mom? Mom, where are you?” he hollered as he entered the house. “Are you OK?”

  “Yup,” came a quiet answer.

  He led the emergency crew into the kitchen and then stopped abruptly. His mother sat calmly at the kitchen table, eating one of Rhoda’s sugar cookies. She smiled, a dab of yellow frosting on her upper lip.

  “Mom, when I heard the sirens, and then the ambulance and the fire truck came here—”

  “We had an . . . emergency with Megan. So after I talked to you I . . . called 9-1-1,” she replied with a lopsided grin. “Thanks for . . . coming so fast, fellows.”

  A ner
vous laugh escaped him as he looked at the EMS crew and Officer McClatchey. Andy wrapped his arms around his mother’s shoulders. “Mom, you’re brilliant,” he whispered. “The kids are fine. Just stay in here, OK?”

  She nodded. Took another bite of her cookie.

  “So you’re all right, ma’am?” the ambulance driver reconfirmed. “Not having chest pains or dizziness or—”

  “Not anymore. It’s that . . . other woman you need to . . . be concerned with,” she replied, gesturing toward the doorway.

  Andy went along with his mother’s lead. “Actually, Officer McClatchey, we do have a domestic dispute in progress,” he said. “Mom called me home from work because my ex-wife has flown in unannounced. I was granted full custody when she divorced me, yet she was loading my kids into her van when I arrived a few minutes ago.”

  “And don’t think for a minute that I’ll let this discussion continue as though I’m not here,” Megan snapped as she entered the kitchen.

  The ambulance driver looked at his crew and the firemen. “If there’s no fire and no one needing medical attention, we’ll be on our way then,” he said. Each of them took a cookie from the plate his mom offered, thanking her. Then it was just the policeman who stayed behind to set this situation straight.

  “Shall we go into the living room? Your mom seems very comfortable here.” McClatchey eyed Megan, motioning for her and Andy to precede him. He sat down on the couch so he could take notes on the coffee table, motioning for them to take seats, as well. “And for the record, ma’am, your name is—?”

  “Megan Zylinsky,” she replied stiffly.

  “And why exactly did you return to Missouri? If Andy and his mother believe you were planning to take his children—”

  “They’re my children, too, you know!” Megan’s cheeks turned very pink. “And when I got a couple of calls informing me that Andy had taken up with some Amish girl—”

  When the policeman glanced his way, Andy quietly said, “Rhoda Lantz.”

  “—and then received a letter informing me that he intends to join the Amish church and expose the children to such—such a backward, uneducated cult,” Megan continued in a rising voice, “well, can you blame me for wanting to protect them?”