Autumn Winds (21 page)

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Authors: Charlotte Hubbard

Tags: #Fiction, #Religious, #Christian, #Romance, #Amish & Mennonite

BOOK: Autumn Winds
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“I’ll do that! Nellie’ll be tickled to get out, if—we can come to your house, I hope?”
A smile warmed Rhoda’s face. Wasn’t it a fine thing to have two girls wanting to come over, hoping she and Mamma would welcome their company? Suddenly the long winter days ahead didn’t seem so . . . lonely. And if Mamma would be spending her spare time with Ben—and Annie Mae was
not
keeping company with Luke Hooley—well, she and the Knepp girls might spend some evenings becoming better friends.
“Let’s start this week,” Rhoda replied eagerly. “We’ve got a big basket of yarn stuck away. Just been too busy runnin’ the Sweet Seasons and gettin’ ready for the wedding to sit around crochetin’.”
“I can’t wait, Rhoda!”
And wasn’t that something? As they went inside and walked down the aisle between the tables, where the boys were singing on one side and the girls on the other, the music swelled within Rhoda and she joined in on the chorus. Rachel’s expression welcomed her back—told her she’d been missed. And when she saw Mamma in the back corner singing along, beaming, everything felt right again.
It’ll all work out for me, Lord
, she mused as her gaze swept the huge roomful of friends. With their faces raised and their voices rising into the rafters, it seemed an almost heavenly place to be. Could angels sing any more sweetly about love and bearing each other’s burdens?
Rhoda sighed happily. She felt free again. Contented. And for that she thanked God.
Chapter 20
Early Monday morning, Miriam walked down the driveway holding her shawl around her: the wind was kicking up. The treetops swayed crazily and she hoped it wouldn’t be another day when one of their large, old trees fell on something. About three weeks ago when that had happened, Ben Hooley had blown into her life, and with Rachel married now, she had seen enough change for one season. It felt comforting to enter the café’s kitchen and get back to her work again.
Miriam paused inside the door. The bakery had been closed for five days, so a long list of orders awaited her, but she allowed herself a few moments to let the kitchen’s peacefulness seep into her soul. Bless them, the Hooley sisters were set on being perfect, helpful houseguests, but they tended to take things over, assuming she would welcome their help. Here, she was in control—at least for the next couple of hours before Naomi, Rachel, and Rhoda showed up for work.
Miriam took several pounds of hamburger from the freezer, thinking it would be the perfect day for soup on the lunch menu. As she started large batches of dough for sticky buns and pastries, her body eased into its familiar routine. In the apartment above the smithy, lights came on . . . Ben was taking his brothers to meet with Derek Shotwell today, and the two aunts said they were going to Hiram’s first thing, to begin the fall cleaning with Annie Mae.
Miriam chuckled. If Nazareth and Jerusalem Hooley offered to tackle her fall cleaning, she’d be all too happy to let them! The wedding had tired her; the noise and commotion of constant family contact for these past several days had worn her down—which wasn’t something most Amish women would notice, as their homes swarmed with children and perhaps three generations every day. Moses and Paul had questioned her need to work so many hours, to the point she’d been glad to see her sisters’ families go home. They had no idea how her business had liberated her—or maybe they did, and they hadn’t expressed their disapproval directly.
A tapping on the window made her look up. Ben’s face was pressed to the glass. He wiggled his fingers, grinning, and that made Miriam grin, too. “Come on in!” she called out.
He stepped inside and inhaled deeply. “How is it that your place smells so
gut
and mine smells like three bachelor brothers are bunkin’ there?”
“That question sorta answers itself, ain’t so?” Miriam turned the dough out of her mixer bowl onto the floured counter and began to knead it. “And would those bachelor brothers like to eat their breakfast here before they drive to the bank?”
“Don’t want to be any trouble, what with you catchin’ up on orders—”
“Ben Hooley, when it’s
trouble
for me to cook a meal, will ya drop me into my pine box?”
He slipped his arms lightly around her shoulders as she worked, and it felt . . . heavenly. Curious family members had seen her with Ben at various times over the weekend, and to avoid their questions she’d made a point of not seeming overly affectionate or interested in him.
Ben kissed her temple. “Ya must be the most generous, understandin’ woman I’ve ever met, Miriam. Truth be told, the boys were askin’ if somebody else could cook their eggs this mornin’, as I tend to set the fire too high. Or I get busy makin’ the toast and forget to flip them, or—”
“Ya need a woman in your life, Ben.” Miriam bit her lip after that slipped out, yet weren’t they past the stage of tiptoeing around such a sentiment?
“You’re right. Are ya applyin’ for that position?”
Miriam raised an eyebrow, pleased to be bantering with him in this way again. “I’d not be your ordinary, everyday wife, ya know. I intend to keep runnin’ my bakery and feedin’ all manner of other fellas who come here feelin’ the same way about my food as you do.”
He shrugged playfully. “As long as it’s just food you’re servin’ up, I’ll be all right with that. I’ll be sittin’ alongside those men most mornin’s, ain’t so? And besides”—he paused until she met his gaze, his golden-brown eyes mere inches from hers—“if it was an
ordinary
wife I wanted, I could’ve settled down years ago.”
Miriam’s heart thrummed. She gripped the warm, pliant ball of dough she had been kneading. “I love you, Ben,” she whispered.
His smile went lopsided. Then his eyes misted over. “Miriam, are ya sure? I don’t want ya thinkin’—”
“Oh, if I was
thinkin
’, I might never follow what my heart truly wanted,” she murmured. “But,
jah
, while ya were away I came to realize how much I wanted ya in my life. And with all my family here, askin’ about my future and hintin’ I should seek out another husband—”
“Don’t say ya want me just because your brothers think ya need a man takin’ care of ya, Miriam. I’m Amish,
jah
, but I know better than to trap ya with tradition, thinkin’ I’ll make ya happy that way.”
Miriam chuckled as her hands and arms again found the rhythm of kneading the dough. Wasn’t it wonderful, the way Ben had figured out so much about her already? “Moses and Paul mean well. They believe family comes first, and to them that implies a house that’s orderly; the husband sits at the head of the table and the woman perty much works her day around keepin’ him and his kids fed and clothed.”
Ben chuckled. “Oh, I’ll be wantin’ a few other things from ya, too, perty girl.”
Tingles shot up her spine. He was standing too close not to notice the gray in her hair and the crow’s-feet around her eyes, so maybe . . . maybe she shouldn’t worry about those details anymore. Movement outside the window caught her attention and she cleared her throat purposefully. “Company’s comin’. Better turn me loose before—”
“Let them see us the way we are, Miriam. There’s no shame in showin’ affection for a woman ya intend to hitch up with.”
“Ya haven’t asked me yet.” Oh, but that was a brazen thing to say! Yet Miriam playfully held his gaze.
“You’re right. I’m gonna keep ya guessin’ as to the where and the when,” he replied with a chuckle. “We’ll let things simmer a bit—”
A knock on the door made them jump, but Ben’s arms remained loosely around her shoulders. “Come on in, fellas,” he called toward the door. “I’ve got Miriam all sweetened up, so if ya behave yourselves, she just might cook ya breakfast.”
A double chuckle preceded the two younger Hooley brothers through the door. They stopped short when they saw how Ben was holding Miriam from behind as she rolled her dough ball inside a buttered bowl to rise.
“Didn’t mean to interrupt—”
“Maybe we should wait for ya to finish—”
“You pups should be takin’ notes,” Ben said with a laugh. “There’s a certain talent to winnin’ a
gut
woman, and with all the girls in Willow Ridge ready to check ya out, you’d best be sharpenin’ your skills.” Ben bussed Miriam’s cheek and then backed away. “And what gets you fellas outta bed so early? The birds aren’t even awake yet.”
“We could ask you the same thing, Bennie-boy,” Luke teased. His low voice reverberated with laughter he was holding back. “But
someone
we know lit the lamps while he was primpin’ and he was in such a toot to come over here, he left them burnin’. And besides that, the wind’s whippin’ a tree branch against the wall beside my bed.”
“
Jah
, we’re in for a storm later,” Ira agreed, nodding emphatically. “And a storm’s what we’ll get before we leave for the bank, too, if the apartment’s not redded up when the aunts come over. We’d better fortify ourselves with
gut
food and allow plenty of time for the big cleanup job.”
Miriam laughed. At thirty and twenty-eight Luke and Ira had left home for the first time . . . didn’t have wives looking after them, but knew quite well what Jerusalem and Nazareth expected. “And maybe you’re just a wee bit excited about gettin’ your mill business goin’ today, ain’t so?”
Luke’s dimples came out to play when he smiled. He looked a lot like Ben but stood taller and thinner. “And we thank ya again for lettin’ loose of some land, too. I was turnin’ flip-flops when Ben told me your price—”
“And when we walked the place this weekend, plannin’ out where to put the buildin’,” Ira joined in, “we realized that Ben hadn’t done the place justice. It’s real perty in this part of the country, what with the trees turnin’ and the river racin’ over the rocks.”
“We’re glad Micah Brenneman’s makin’ time to get the place up and enclosed so quick, too,” Luke continued. “Once the roof’s on and the windows are in, we can live in our new rooms upstairs so you can have your loft back.”
“We’re askin’ Micah to build us some of those rollin’ walls, too!” Ira crowed. “Never seen anythin’ like that place. Havin’ beds that fold up into the wall, and slidin’ panels with bookshelves and dresser drawers built in, seem like fine ways to save some space. And we can see he’s a mighty fine carpenter, too, before we have him build our mill.”
Miriam was nodding as she got a carton of eggs and a package of bulk sausage from the fridge. “Ya couldn’t ask for a better fella to do your construction work,” she agreed. She formed patties from the sausage and arranged them in her cast-iron skillet. “And if the bishop gets cantankerous about how you’re doin’ things, or the way you’ve come here from Pennsylvania to start up, I can assure ya firsthand that everybody else voted for the go-ahead. Lots of folks will benefit from a chance to grow grains for ya, or from havin’ more tourists visit their shops when they come to Willow Ridge to see the mill.”
They chatted easily as Miriam made French toast from some of Deborah’s bread, left from the wedding. It was a fine thing, to have this time with Ben’s brothers . . . to smile at facial expressions and gestures she’d observed while getting to know Ben, and to hear their ideas for packaging and selling their grains. Considering it would be nearly a year before their first local crop was available, Miriam was pleased about their confidence—not to mention the financial stability they had established at a young age.
As the four of them ate their breakfast in the dining room, Miriam listened more than she talked. She didn’t know of any other young men with such business sense, and the more Ira and Luke talked, the more impressed she became. Bishop Knepp would have to admit that the Hooleys would be an asset to Willow Ridge.
Miriam got up from the table. “Let me fry up another couple pieces of French toast—”
The jangling of the phone made her glance at the clock. Who would be calling at four thirty in the morning? “I’d better answer the phone first,” she called out to them as she passed through the kitchen. “At this hour, it might be an emergency.”
Out the back door she hurried, to the little white phone shanty that sat behind the building. Just as it rang for the fourth time, she grabbed the receiver. “Hullo?” she said as she caught her breath. “This is Miriam Lantz at the Sweet Seasons—”
“I need to talk to Ben. I know he’s there, so don’t try to tell me different.”
Miriam’s eyebrows rose, and so did her temper. “Do ya realize it’s only four thirty in the—”
“Well, if ya have to bang on his door to wake him up, that’s only fair, considerin’ how he left me in the lurch! I’ll wait.”
Jah
, and I might just hang up, too
, Miriam thought. She didn’t even want to know what sort of lurch Ben had supposedly left Polly Petersheim in . . . but wasn’t it time to settle this matter with Ben’s old girlfriend, one way or the other? Miriam set the receiver on the tabletop and walked back into the kitchen, crossing her arms against the cold wind. From the doorway she gazed at Ben Hooley, the man she’d just this morning declared her love for. If she’d spoken too soon—if she’d fallen for a fellow who couldn’t commit to her and leave his past entanglements behind—well, it was better to find out now, wasn’t it?
“Are ya all right, Miriam? Somebody sick?” Ben asked as he rose from his chair. He looked sincerely concerned.
“Polly wants to talk to ya. Says it’s urgent.”
Ben’s face clouded over like the impending storm outside. As he walked across to the pass-through window and into the kitchen, the measured tread of his boots on the plank floor announced his displeasure. “Miriam,” he murmured, “I want ya to come with me. I want ya to witness—”
“Ben, this is none of my business.”
“Ah, but it is. Polly’s tryin’ to lasso me from clear across the country, probably thinkin’ to make you mad enough to send me packin’,” he said in an angry voice. “And it’s time to put a stop to such nonsense.”
It felt odd to join Ben in the tiny phone shack. When he closed the door, Miriam stood directly behind him as he sat on the old chair to take the call . . . so close she couldn’t help brushing against his back. Her heart pounded. Polly Petersheim had a lot more history with Ben than she did, and had apparently felt a spark for him rekindled. And because Polly had been widowed, well—Miriam knew exactly how helpless a woman could feel, and how desperate to see that the livestock and the farm got taken care of, as well.
Desperation drove a lot of lonely women to make decisions—or phone calls—they would never have considered before they lost their man. Miriam closed her eyes as Ben raised the receiver to his ear.
Please help us, Lord, to speak with compassion but to get this settled for sure and for certain
, she prayed.
If You’re tryin’ to show me that Ben Hooley’s not the man for me, I . . . I’ll try to understand.

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