Summer of Secrets

by Charlotte Hubbard

  Naomi paused, but she wasn’t ready to let the bishop have his say yet. Her face flushed with the knowledge that she was defying authority, with the preachers and Deacon Reihl as witnesses. “Say what ya want about Miriam and me workin’ here insteada at home,” she continued in a voice that shook with conviction, “but it’s kept our families fed! My faith is everything to me, jah—and by workin’ a job because Ezra can’t be a carpenter anymore, I’m puttin’ my faith into action! The Lord helps those who help themselves, and we Brennemans believe in payin’ our own way!”

  Micah, too, rose from his chair to put an arm around his petite mother’s shoulders. “Ya think we boys like it that our mamm is workin’ so hard here? The cabinet shop’s doin’ a boomin’ business now, but if ya take me outta the picture, I don’t know how we’re gonna keep payin’ on Dat’s physical therapy and medications, Bishop.”

  “You knew the consequences of your waywardness when you stepped off the path to visit this Englisher, did you not?” Hiram demanded in a low voice.

  Micah glanced at Rachel and Tiffany, his expression grim. “Like I told ya before, I understood the risks when I went to visit Miriam’s other daughter, and I’m not goin’ back to see her again. If ya want my confession at service this Sunday, I’ll give it. But I’m askin’ ya not to burden my whole family on account of my behavior.”

  “You know our hearts, Bishop. Pardon me if I’m oversteppin’, but I think you’re misjudgin’ our intentions here, about reunitin’ with my Rebecca. And you surely must realize it’s not our way to ask for help when we can help ourselves!” Mamma joined in. She rose to stand behind Tiffany, her hands on her daughter’s shoulders. “And if comin’ between me and my child—and then makin’ me give up the mission that’s sustained me since Jesse died—are your ways of convincin’ me to come outta mournin’ so’s you can court me, well, that’s a mighty strange way to win a woman’s love! Ain’t so, Hiram?”

  Tom Hostetler’s mouth dropped open, while Gabe and Reuben stared at the bishop as though his interest in Miriam Lantz came as a big surprise to them. Then Gabe, the eldest of the brethren, cleared his throat and looked sharply at them all.

  “This defiance—this disrespect—for the man God chose as our earthly leader appalls me.” Preacher Glick’s voice reverberated in such a low tone they all had to lean forward to catch everything he said ... but there was no missing his message. “I think every one of ya needs to be on your knees at a members’ meetin’ this Sunday. Such a raisin’ of voices! Against a man who takes responsibility for your very souls! You should be ashamed, and ask the bishop’s forgiveness. And then accept whatever discipline he and the People agree to after witnessin’ your contrite confessions.”

  The dining room rang with silence and unspoken fear. Rachel’s pulse nearly drove her to stand up and join in, defending her mother and the man she loved—except Rhoda grabbed her arm. The ominous way her sister shook her head, warning her to keep quiet, reminded her of the trouble her outspoken complaints had caused with Micah ... how it wasn’t always best to voice her opinions, even if she felt she had good reason.

  And the tightness of Hiram Knepp’s jaw, and Mamma’s wide eyes, seemed reason enough to stay out of this. For now.

  Naomi turned her head sharply, like a little girl about to pitch a fit. Then she let out her breath. “I apologize if I spoke outta turn, Hiram,” she murmured. “Just my worry talkin’ for me, is all. Wasn’t my intent to offend ya, or to question your authority.”

  “Nor mine,” Mamma echoed. “I’ll go before the People Sunday mornin’ to make my confession, jah.”

  Bishop Knepp looked at them all, assessing. His gaze lingered longest on poor Mamma, as though to prompt a more elaborate apology.

  “Didn’t intend any disrespect, Bishop,” Micah stated quietly, “but the Lord knows I’m not sorry for sayin’ what had to be said. Like I told ya, I’ll come before the People, to give my confession and accept whatever punishment ya decide—”

  “Wait a minute! What am I missing here?” Tiffany brought the butt of her fork down hard on the table when she pounded her fist. She looked from Gabe to Tom to Hiram with an incredulous expression that would only provoke them more, but there was no stopping her. “You’re going to excommunicate—or shun, or whatever!—Micah because he came to see me? Because I refused to listen to him anyplace except my car? Because I invited him to dinner and he told me how much my original family loved me?”

  Mamma gripped Tiffany’s shoulders firmly. “Daughter, now’s not the time or the place to—”

  “But I don’t understand! Why was it a sin for Micah to tell me I needed a better class of friends? And that I needed to get my act together?” Tiffany demanded. “He was absolutely right! And who besides Micah and I know what went on and what was said? I don’t know where you got your information, Bishop, but—”

  Mamma clapped her hand gently over Tiffany’s mouth, entreating Hiram with her wide brown eyes. “Englishers don’t know our ways, remember.”

  “All the more reason not to spend time with them,” Gabe replied tightly. “We’re seein’ firsthand the trouble it can cause, allowin’ outsiders to have sway over our thinkin’.”

  Rachel’s temples throbbed and her heart pounded so hard she could barely breathe. How had this conversation gotten so far out of hand so fast? With each passing moment, Hiram Knepp looked steelier ... more inclined to require the strictest discipline. And why? Because Mamma had reclaimed her long-lost daughter?

  Not Tiffany’s fault she was raised outside the People’s influence. And Tiffany had only asked the question she herself had wanted to: How had the bishop known what Micah did when he went to Morning Star? This was yet another reason for her not to speak up or ask too many questions. The brethren had their way of finding things out.

  “I’ve made my decision.” Hiram Knepp clasped his hands again, focusing on each of them in turn. “Miriam, I now believe that the decision I made last year—to allow you to construct this building for your business—was a mistake. Once I went along with that, I made all manner of other exceptions for you, allowing conveniences and appliances—your partnership with Mennonites—so the facility would meet health department standards.” Hiram let his stern gaze sink in along with his words. “Had I adhered to my original belief, that a woman shouldn’t own property that will take her out of her home, away from her family, we’d have prevented many of today’s problems before they arose.”

  Mamma’s hand flew to her mouth. She closed her eyes against tears, composing her thoughts before she spoke again. “Are ya sayin’ I can’t bake? Can’t support myself and my girls?”

  Rachel glanced fearfully at Rhoda, Micah, and Naomi. They, too, looked totally stricken. What on earth was going on here? Had this really been discussed by all the elders? The way Tom Hostetler and Gabe Glick shifted, their mouths pressed into tight lines, suggested they’d had nothing to do with this decision ... this proclamation that Mamma would no longer own the Sweet Seasons Bakery Café.

  Bishop Knepp cleared his throat and waited for Mamma to look at him. “As I mentioned the other night, I believe your independence—your pride in ownership—has blurred your vision. Misplaced your priorities. You must sell the building, Miriam.”

  Mamma’s’ whimper rang out in the empty café. “And what am I to do for an income? I’ve got no other family to fall back on, and I detest becomin’ dependent—”

  “Plenty of women bake and sell from their homes.” He glanced at Naomi and then toward the door, where an elderly couple was coming inside. “With the business you’ve built up, you could surely cater from your own kitchen, as well.”

  “And what of the quilt shop?” Naomi demanded, pointing toward the other half of the building as she stared at Reuben. “Your cousin Mary and Zeb’s aunts’ll be hard pressed to find a better location—”

  “I didn’t say you had to give up your businesses,” Hiram remarked more quietly. “If the building’s new owner agrees to keep
the café and quilt shop here, so be it. You may remain open until the building sells, which gives you time to formulate a new plan. A plan that honors God as well as your places in His earthly kingdom.”

  The sound of chairs scooting against the floor made them all look up. Rhoda excused herself to greet their customers, her face splotchy. Rachel felt she was coming out of a bad dream, back to the reality of cooking and serving their customers—a reality that might not be supporting them by the end of summer.

  “I’ll arrange a time at the bank in New Haven, and let you know when we’ll be initiating the sale, Miriam.” With a nod, Hiram dismissed himself. Left them at the table, stunned silent, as he and the other three brethren exited the café.

  “I’m outta here.” Tiffany eased her chair back so as not to bump into Mamma, who stood with her fist pressed to her mouth, alongside a wide-eyed Naomi. “I don’t understand this stuff, but if it’s my fault for showing up—or the way I look—well, I don’t know what else to say. I’m really, really sorry this happened, Mamma.”

  As the girl in pink and black hurried toward the door, Rachel jumped from her chair. With a grimace, she recalled the last time, hollering at Tiffany to leave and never come back. Now that that mistake had been reconciled, everything else in their world seemed to be crumbling around them. What a shame that her sister had called their mother Mamma now, when Tiffany was leaving again? Maybe for good this time.

  “Wait—Tiffany! Rebecca!” she called out as she trotted across the gravel parking lot.

  Her sister opened the car door and turned. Wet, black streaks flowed down her cheeks. “This is the most—Can’t you see what that guy’s doing?” she muttered. “He’s going to buy the building, just you watch! Control freak that he is, he’s pulling her strings like she’s a puppet. Making her dependent upon him for—oh, forget it! This is just too freaking weird!”

  Rachel bit back her reply. She’d had some of the same suspicions, but hadn’t voiced them for fear she’d make the situation worse. “We meant it about the birthday party, though! Please come!” she pleaded, gripping the hot car door. “We want ya here! And please don’t abandon Mamma, now that she needs us most.”

  Tiffany gazed at her for several seconds, maybe studying what she’d look like as a Plain girl. “I’ll have to think about it. Seems I’ve been nothing but trouble for Micah and our mother, and I have enough hassles dealing with Dad,” she said in a rush. “Can’t make any promises. But thanks for asking.”

  Moments later Tiffany’s car roared out of the parking lot, throwing gravel as she pulled onto the highway. She veered sharply to avoid hitting Bishop Knepp’s buggy and then sped on down the road.

  Rachel sighed sadly. Would they ever see her again?

  Chapter 19

  “Mamma, ya really should eat somethin’.” Rhoda slipped an arm around Miriam’s slumped shoulders. “Rachel’s warmed some of those gut stuffed peppers, and I brought us home the last three cinnamon rolls from this mornin’, so—”

  “I’m hot and tired and so ferhoodled I could just—” Miriam rose from her chair at the end of the table, retreating to the front porch. Even here, though, the oppressive July heat made her clothing stick to her after the day’s work in a hot kitchen: not a breath stirred the trees. She dropped wearily into the porch swing, regretting her words with Rhoda. Didn’t her girls always look after her? Hadn’t they all done the best they could these past two years since Jesse passed?

  Wishin’ won’t bring him back ... nor will fussin’ at everybody solve the real problem here. His name is Hiram ... and Lord, if we don’t find a way to heal all these open wounds insteada pourin’ salt on them ...

  Miriam peeled off her shoes and stockings and flexed her feet. She felt ninety years old, as limp and bedraggled as she had those first months of being a widow—and she was doing this to herself, she realized. As the girls came out to join her in the late rays of the sunset, she put on a smile for their sake. Rhoda carried the big family Bible and Rachel had quartered those cinnamon rolls and put them on a plate, which she set on the swing cushion. Little imp. Rachel knew she would eventually reach for just one piece of the sweet, cinnamon-rich pastry, and then another.

  “Didn’t mean to bite your heads off, girls,” Miriam said sadly.

  “Jah, well, it’s been one of those roller coaster days,” Rhoda observed as she handed over the Good Book. “Felt so fine to have Tiffany actin’ like she wanted to be with us—”

  “And then the bishop had to come and rain on our party.” Rachel’s sigh sounded far too old and sad for a girl about to turn twenty-one. “What’re we gonna do, Mamma? Priscilla Schrock gave me quite an earful about her feelin’s—”

  “Jah, I saw the three of them listenin’ in the hallway.”

  “—and said she was gonna give Reuben what for about the buildin’ bein’ sold,” Rachel continued forlornly. “But when Hiram had his say ... seemed to me he’d already made up his mind. No talkin’ him out of it.”

  Miriam let out a short laugh as she turned the thin pages of the old Bible. “My talkin’ didn’t help matters. Only eggs him on when a woman states her case, like I did today and the last time I met with him.”

  “He’s not keen on havin’ his facts challenged by somebody else’s.” Rhoda reached for the first section of cinnamon roll.

  “And I know that, ain’t so? Yet I keep answerin’ back like a smarty-pants who has no respect for God’s holy ordinances.”

  “Mamma! Everybody knows you respect God!” Rachel objected. “It’s Hiram and his string-pullin’ we’re objectin’ to here. Even Tiffany could see that.”

  “Ya can’t tell me you’re gonna let him take away all you’ve worked for! He allowed ya to set up the Sweet Seasons, and now he’s changin’ all the rules!” Rhoda squeezed her piece of pastry into a tight ball before popping it into her mouth. “God strike me down if I’m speakin’ outta turn here, but it’s just plain nasty, the way he’s backin’ you into a corner so’s you’ll give in ... maybe marry him. Please tell us you’re not gonna do that, Mamma!”

  Two sets of intense blue eyes were fixed on Miriam. The dusk deepened around them when the sun dipped behind the smithy, and then the quickstep of hoofbeats made them all look down the lane. “Micah and his mamm. Fast as they’re comin’, I hope nothin’s wrong with Ezra,” Miriam murmured. She waved and called out, “Hullo there, you two! Everythin’ all right?”

  “Puh! You’re a fine one to be askin’ me that!” Naomi replied. She clambered down from the buggy before Micah could assist her and then her bare feet slapped against the wooden porch steps. “Gave Ezra some extra meds for his phantom pain and left him snoozin’. Seems to get worse in this heat, and we’re probably lookin’ at another round of tests soon.”

  “Had to get her outta the house so’s she wouldn’t keep spinnin’ like a tornado,” Micah remarked gently. He sat on the step, leaning against the thick porch pillar. “Didn’t feel much like workin’ on the upstairs tonight, what with Hiram sayin’ your buildin’ is to be sold. So here we are. Misery loves company, ain’t so?”

  “Pass this young fella the plate.” Miriam took a section of cinnamon roll before handing the sweets to Rhoda. “We were just gettin’ ready for our readin’, and I’ve picked out the Psalm Jesse used to rely on when things bothered him ... mostly on nights when meetin’s with the bishop tested his patience.”

  “We could use a dose of that medicine,” Naomi agreed. “Keep tellin’ myself all this frettin’s not doin’ us a lick of gut, but do ya think it stops me? I’m mighty wound up over this kettle of fish, I can tell ya.”

  Miriam smiled. Already she felt better, surrounded by those who loved her most and shared her deepest concerns. “Micah, it’s been a long while since we heard our evenin’ readin’ in a man’s voice. Would ya mind? It’s number twenty-seven.”

  The sturdy blond removed his straw hat, looking honored that she’d asked him for this favor. He sampled a piece of the cinnamon roll, wiped his
hands on his pants, and then took the large book from her. Rachel had fetched the lamp from the table and lit it, and they made a soothing sight as they sat together over the Word.

  “‘The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? The Lord is the strength of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?’” he began. He smiled at Miriam, sensing her reason for choosing this passage tonight. “‘When the wicked, even mine enemies and my foes, came upon me to eat up my flesh, they stumbled and fell ...’”

  As Micah’s confident young voice continued, Miriam felt her whole body relaxing. She nodded at Naomi, both of them pleased at the sight and the sound of this devotional time they all shared ...

  “‘Hear, O Lord, when I cry with my voice: have mercy also upon me and answer me. When thou saidst, Seek ye my face my heart said unto thee, Thy face, Lord, will I seek ...’”

  Thy face, Lord, will I seek, Miriam’s heart repeated. Surely God wouldn’t mind if it was Jesse’s face she saw in these times when troubles confronted her.

  “‘Teach me thy way, O Lord, and lead me in a plain path because of mine enemies. Deliver me not over unto the will of mine enemies: for false witnesses are risen up against me and such as breathe out cruelty,’” Micah continued. His fervent voice added meaning to the phrases as they followed him with their hearts.

  And while it pained her to place Hiram Knepp, the bishop God chose for them, in the same category as enemies and false witnesses, Miriam realized that others might well see her in that role at times: Didn’t everyone take a turn bearing false witness and breathing out cruelty, after all? She bowed her head, allowing Micah to finish the familiar passage as a prayer she mouthed along with him.

  “‘Wait on the Lord; be of good courage and he shall strengthen thine heart: wait, I say, on the Lord.’”