An Amish Country Christmas (17 page)

Jeremiah helped himself to the hot sandwiches. “You folks are in the prayers of all
the districts around you,” he said in a solemn voice. “Enos and I suspected, back
when Hiram confessed to us about his car, that other issues might come to light someday.
We can only trust that God has a reason for all the trouble Hiram’s caused.”

“We also believe, however, that Willow Ridge will be in capable, compassionate hands
with Tom as its spiritual leader.” Vernon took a big bite of his open-faced sandwich
and then closed his eyes. “My goodness, ladies, what a treat you’ve blessed us with
today. I’m ready to buy myself a few goats so I can enjoy more of this marvelous cheese.”

Jerusalem’s heart fluttered. “Thank you, Vernon. It’s been our pleasure to provide
you fellas a meal while you’ve been here on such important business.”

“So it’s settled then?” Nazareth asked. “Preacher Tom is to become the bishop?”

“It’s what our prayers and discussion have led us to,
jah
.” Jeremiah smiled at the man who sat at the table’s head. “What with you folks needing
two new preachers now, we feel Tom will provide the continuity—the leadership and
spiritual example—to bind up the wounds Hiram has inflicted. It’s not the usual falling
of the lot, the way we Amish let God select our bishops, but in your case it’s the
most practical solution.”

Jerusalem noted the way her sister nipped at her lower lip before biting into a roll
she’d slathered with butter and jam. Well they knew the blessing Tom Hostetler had
been to them and to this entire community, even if it meant Nazareth must put aside
her hopes for romance. And while Tom’s expression suggested he had his share of doubts
and questions about the role he would assume, he was accepting this new wagonload
of responsibility as God’s will for his life.

Tom’s faith—his willingness to serve without complaint or question—will be an inspiration
to us all
, Jerusalem thought.
Give me the grace to follow where You’re leading me, as well, Lord.

When Jerusalem looked up, Vernon Gingerich was studying her, and he didn’t lower his
eyes for several seconds. It felt unseemly—downright brazen—to return his gaze, yet
she indulged herself in this fascinating man’s silent attention anyway. Hadn’t Tom
mentioned that the bishop of Cedar Creek was a widower?

The conversation continued along the lines of farming, shepherding of human flocks,
and other topics of common interest as Jerusalem refilled soup bowls and Nazareth
brought the goody trays to the table. What a blessing it was to be surrounded by the
wisdom and experience these three bishops had brought with them . . . a balm to her
soul, after the way Hiram had condemned them when they hadn’t followed him to Higher
Ground. It was such a delight to watch the men devour the cookies they’d baked, too.
All too soon they were scooting back from the table.

“Can we send goodies home with you fellas?” Jerusalem asked. “It’d be our pleasure,
after the help you’ve given our district today.”

Jeremiah’s dark eyes flashed with pleasure. “
Jah
, I’ll take some! Not that I promise they’ll all make it to Morning Star.”

Enos laughed until his bony shoulders shook. “You’ve got a bottomless pit for a stomach,
Jeremiah. These days nothin’ I eat seems to stick. But I’d be happy to relieve Tom
of the burden of having to force the rest of them down.”

“None for me, thanks,” Vernon said as he slipped into his coat. “Tom invited me to
stay over, and by the looks of those huge snowflakes, he’s a pretty fine weather forecaster.
I’ll be back in a few, so don’t put those cookies away yet.”

A schoolgirl’s grin overtook Jerusalem’s face. Vernon was staying over! And wasn’t
that the best news she’d heard in a long, long while?

Chapter Two

As Vernon waved to the two friends who were taking off in their buggies, he felt as
light as one of the flakes swirling around his face. While substantial snowfall always
caused concern for fellows with livestock and long lanes to plow, today his nephew
Abner would cover those responsibilities for him. He felt a child’s delight at the
prospect of open fields glistening in the sunshine after a winter storm . . . and
being snowed in for a day or two suddenly sounded wonderful, too.

“Can’t thank you enough for inviting me to visit, Tom.” He looked at the tall white
house with its snow-covered roof . . . the large red dairy barn and its well-tended
fences. “It’s a real gift to have time away now and again.”

“I don’t see nearly enough of ya these days, Vernon. It’s been more years than I care
to count since the summer you and I worked that fella’s ranch in Nebraska.” Tom’s
smile waxed nostalgic. “After all the manure we shoveled, it’s a wonder you ended
up with a herd of Angus while I’m milkin’ all these Holsteins.”

Vernon laughed and clapped his friend on the back. “We were mighty full of ourselves
at sixteen, weren’t we? But it seems to me we’ve both come a long way on the same
path. And I see God’s hand at work here in Willow Ridge, too, with you becoming the
bishop. Your patience and dedication will be real gifts to these folks.”

Tom sighed, stuffing his hands into his coat pockets. “Hope we’re not declarin’ our
practicality as God’s will. The last thing I want is to fall into the same arrogance
Hiram had.”

“That’ll never happen. Hiram’s cut from different cloth altogether.” Vernon saw movement
in the kitchen window . . . a flash of deep red the color of the cardinal that sang
in the nearby spruce tree. He took the cooler from behind the seat of his sleigh while
Tom grabbed his suitcase. “So tell me how you came to have those two sisters keeping
house for you. They’re quite a pair.”

As they started for the kitchen door, Tom’s cheeks took on a blush that had nothing
to do with the frosty air. “When they walked out on Hiram—they were lookin’ after
his youngest four kids, ya see—this seemed the most logical place for them and their
goats to land, even though plenty of other folks offered to put them up. If ya have
reservations about the way it looks, with me havin’ two
maidels
here—”

“The way it looks,” Vernon quipped quietly, “is that the situation has worked itself
out well for all of you. Maybe more for you and Nazareth than for Jerusalem, eh?”

Tom grinned in spite of his concern. “She’s a fine woman, Vernon. And with the two
of them being inseparable, I figured it for an honorable way to have a little companionship.
This big old house gets lonely of an evening . . .”

They paused outside the door. “I know all about that,” Vernon murmured. “Not a day
goes by that I don’t miss my Dorothea. And I couldn’t possibly keep up with my farm
or tend to a bishop’s business if it weren’t for my aunts and my nephew living with
me. A man’s not meant to do his life’s work alone, Tom.”

“
Jah
, well, my work was the last thing on Lettie’s mind when she left in that fancy fella’s
car. But I’m tryin’ to put that behind me. Movin’ forward as best I can.”

“God’s will be done. It’ll all work out.”

As his friend opened the door into the kitchen, Vernon’s lips twitched. Why was he
thinking—hoping—God had brought him to Willow Ridge today for more than counseling
his longtime friend? Once again the aromas of beef soup and fresh bread wrapped around
him like a blanket as he stepped into the kitchen where the Hooley sisters were redding
up. He liked it that Jerusalem wore a holiday shade of red some Plain women would
consider too showy, and that her eyes sought his as he stomped the snow from his boots.
Dorothea would never have dressed or behaved so boldly . . .

“Unless I miss my guess, we’re in for quite a pile-up of that snow,” she remarked
brightly. “
Gut
thing ya packed to stay over, Vernon.”

Was it wishful thinking on his part, or did Jerusalem seem awfully glad he hadn’t
started for home? He held out the cooler so she could take it while he removed his
boots. “I brought along a fresh brisket and some rib-eye steaks. My nephew Abner’s
a butcher with a fine eye for the best cuts of my Angus, so I’ll put these toward
my room and board.”

“Mighty generous of ya,” Tom remarked. “There was no need to cart your own dinner
here—”

“But we’ll put this meat to real
gut
use, ain’t so, Sister?” Jerusalem added.

Nazareth’s face crinkled with mirth as she dried the dishes. “Saves us from takin’
something from Tom’s deep freeze and having to figure out the menu, I’ll say. And
it’ll suit us just fine if ya stay until we’ve eaten every last bite of it, too, Vernon.”

“It’s unanimous, then. We’re all determined to enjoy the winter weather instead of
fretting if the roads become impassible.” Vernon nodded, pleased with the way this
visit was taking shape. “Let’s you and I bring in some firewood and get the hay mangers
filled for your cows, Tom.”

“
Gut
idea. And we’ll park the plow blade in the stable, where it’s easy to hitch up after
the snow stops.” Tom’s face reflected his gratitude . . . and maybe he, too, was imagining
the potential for spending time sequestered from the rest of the world, with two very
pleasant women for company. “We’ll be back in after the chorin’ and the milkin’, girls.
Lookin’ forward to your company, once the work’s all done.”

As he and Tom went outside again, Vernon glowed with a special sense that these next
days in Willow Ridge would set the tone for the New Year . . . and quite possibly
his whole future. He stuck out his tongue to catch some snowflakes, laughing at the
quick tingles of coldness. Times like these proved out the wisdom of growing older
without fully growing up, didn’t they?

 

 

“Oh my, but these are wonderful-
gut
steaks, Sister,” Nazareth exclaimed as she unwrapped the white butcher paper. “And
such a big brisket! Haven’t enjoyed fresh beef like this in a long while.”

“Awful nice of Vernon to bring it along,” Jerusalem agreed. “How about if we pair
up some of the corn and lima beans in Tom’s freezer—”

“
Jah
, succotash sounds tasty,” Nazareth agreed, “and we could bake those last two acorn
squashes in the root cellar. Tom’s got several jars of beets down there, too.”

“And we could cream that head of cabbage we brought. That sounds like enough sides
to go with those steaks for tonight and for tomorrow, too, when we can bake that brisket
real slow.” Jerusalem’s face glowed with a girlish flush. “Won’t have to spend all
of our time in the kitchen that way.”

“Cook once and eat twice,” Nazareth quipped. “Always a fine plan, in my book.”

As she wiped off the countertops, Nazareth glanced at the butterscotch twists and
pastries that remained from the men’s morning meeting. A batch of cinnamon swirl bread
would be a nice addition for their breakfast tomorrow, and it was one of Tom’s favorites
made up as French toast, too. When she shifted the stack of mail, a long white envelope
dropped to the floor.

“Now I wonder what this could be, comin’ from an attorney?” she mused aloud. “I suspect
Tom forgot all about it, what with the three bishops gettin’ here all at once.”

“He’s got a lot on his mind, for sure and for certain,” Jerusalem agreed. “I’m thinkin’
a fresh batch of our cinnamon swirl bread would be a nice favor to Tom, as he loves
it so.”

Nazareth laughed. It had always been one of life’s little mysteries, the way she and
her sister could pick up on each other’s thoughts. “You always know best, Sister,”
she teased as she restacked the mail and then finished wiping the work surfaces. That
letter was Tom’s business, not hers, and she didn’t want him to think she’d been snooping.

Even after all these years of living with Jerusalem, it was a treat to work in the
kitchen with her older sister, for they didn’t need to chitchat to pass the time companionably.
Jerusalem was paring apples, slicing them into a casserole dish with cinnamon and
raisins, for a crisp, most likely. Nazareth tidied the front room then, placing the
Nativity figurines Tom had carved on his worktable again. She sensed Vernon would
enjoy seeing what his longtime friend did to pass the cold winter days and bring in
some extra income.

A pounding on the front door made her scurry to open it. “My word, you fellas have
cut quite a load of logs already,” she said as Tom and Vernon came inside with their
loaded leather carriers.

“They say chopping wood warms you twice—when you cut it, and again when you burn it,”
Vernon replied as he followed Tom to the storage bin. “I was admiring this stove while
we were meeting in here. It’s keeping the place toasty even with the wind kicking
up.”

Tom’s smile looked a bit reticent. “Lettie ordered this stove from Lehman’s catalog.
While I often shook my head over her preference for the most expensive model of everything
we bought, I have to admit this soapstone stove holds enough wood to keep us warm
all day long.” He deftly emptied his carrier so the logs fell into the woodbox without
any bark or mess landing on the floor.

“Sometimes an initial investment repays us with longtime quality,” Vernon observed.
“My Dorothea tended toward making do and erring on the frugal side, so I’ll soon have
to replace some of the appliances she chose.”

As the men trundled back outside in their heavy boots and coats, Nazareth gazed pensively
at the wood-burning stove. She had often considered it more elaborate and decorative
than something Tom would have chosen himself; now she knew why.
And how will Tom talk of
your
preferences? Will he think you make expensive requests? Or, since Lettie’s things
are holding up so well, maybe you won’t even be choosing anything new . . .

And why was she daydreaming as though she would ever have any say over the way Tom’s
home looked? Nazareth chuckled at herself and went back to the kitchen to help Jerusalem
start their supper. No sense in wishing away her future, considering that Lettie would
continue to be a part of Tom’s life even though she’d left him for another man.

By the time the two fellows shook the snow from their coats and stood their shovels
against the wall of the mudroom, the dusk looked thick with flakes that blew almost
horizontally. The kitchen felt cozy, however, as Jerusalem pulled her apple crisp
from the oven and Nazareth popped two loaves of cinnamon swirl bread from their pans
to finish cooling.

“We’ve got cocoa on the stove,” she said as the men entered the kitchen in their stocking
feet. “Looks nasty outside.”

“Ah, but we won’t have to set foot out again until morning.” Vernon approached Jerusalem,
inhaling the steam that rose from her pan of crisp. “And what a treat it will be to
spend time getting to know you. Both of you,” he added with a quick smile at Nazareth.
“Rather than get in your way, I’ll venture toward that rocking chair in the front
room that looked like it might be a perfect fit for my long legs.”

“I’m all for that,” Tom replied. “We did a
gut
day’s work these past few hours, hustlin’ about to beat the storm. I appreciate your
help with that, Vernon.”

“You’d have done the same for me, Tom.”

Nazareth was pleased at the way Vernon draped his arm around Tom’s shoulders for a
moment. This bishop radiated an entirely different attitude than Hiram Knepp had,
and if anyone needed a show of confidence and encouragement during these unsettled
times in Willow Ridge, it was their gentle, hardworking preacher. “Dinner’s all but
ready, Jerusalem. Let’s sit a spell with the fellas, shall we?”

“Ya don’t have to ask me twice.” Jerusalem quickly filled four mugs with the hot cocoa
and picked up two of them.

Nazareth carried the other two mugs into the front room, secretly hoping she could
share the love seat nearest the stove with Tom. Was that a bad idea with a guest in
the house? Would Vernon remind them that their next bishop shouldn’t be paying attention
to a woman who couldn’t become his wife? She handed Tom one of her mugs.

“And what have we here?” Vernon had paused beside the table at the window. He picked
up a figure of Mary, who wore a shawl painted like a patchwork quilt. “These look
like pieces from Nativity sets I’ve seen in some high-end catalogs, Tom. And you’ve
been carving them?”

Tom sipped his cocoa, blushing a bit. “It’s something I do to pass the time. I figure
they encourage folks to think more about Jesus’ birth instead of all the trim and
tinsel so many English focus on.”

Vernon turned the figurine over in his hand and then leaned closer to study the other
figures. “Can’t say as I’ve ever seen the Wise Men represented as Amish fellows with
beards and hats. But I like it that they’ve brought the gifts of their labors—an ear
of corn, a pail of milk, and a lamb—to offer the baby Jesus.”

Nazareth smiled at her sister as Jerusalem set a mug of cocoa where Vernon could reach
it. It did her heart good to hear someone compliment Tom’s talent, even though it
wasn’t the Plain way to be proud of one’s handiwork.

Tom shrugged, not quite comfortable with the bishop’s praise. “Truth be told, tourists
snap up these sets as fast as I can make them because Amish crafts seem to be all
the rage these days. I don’t do such a
gut
job of paintin’ on the details—”

“Humility suits you, Tom, but there’s no need to deny your God-given gift.” Vernon’s
eyes sparkled as he gently ran his finger along the angel above the manger, who also
wore a robe in a colorful quilt design. “I’ve never seen anything that so freshly
presents the miracle of God’s gift to us. If this set’s not spoken for, I’d like to
buy it.”