Autumn Winds (27 page)

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Authors: Charlotte Hubbard

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

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In the room next door, the Hooley sisters snored so loudly it was a wonder they didn’t wake each other. Mamma and Ben sat talking downstairs like a couple of courting kids, so disappearing to her room had been the only polite thing to do—just as her parents had done when she and Rachel sat downstairs with dates. No lamps were lit in the windows above the smithy, which meant Luke and Ira were still out with Annie Mae and Millie.
Annie Mae and Millie! Am I invisible? Nice to have around for makin’ bread, but then I’m to clean up with the rest of the
maidels
?
Sighing, Rhoda crawled under the covers and squeezed her eyes shut. It was silly to pout and throw a pity fit, but it still hurt, how the Hooley boys had tossed off their remarks about their dates as though she hadn’t been at the table . . . as though she were blind and deaf and had no feelings.
Rhoda swiped at a tear, peeved at herself now; clueless fellows like Ben’s brothers didn’t deserve her attention and she shouldn’t waste her time being upset over them. “Somebody better than you will come along!” she declared into her pillow.
She swallowed hard. Her shoulders relaxed. That simple statement had made her feel better, so she said it again. “Somebody better than you will come along, Ira and Luke Hooley.”
Rhoda smiled in the darkness, promising to keep that affirmation in mind whenever either of them perturbed her again.
Lord, forgive me for sinkin’ so low when You’ve promised to care for me and provide everythin’ I’ll ever need,
she prayed.
Boys will be boys, but You I can depend on. Amen to that!
Chapter 26
While the sun still slept and the frost made the grass in the center of the driveway whisper beneath her feet, Miriam strode to the Sweet Seasons to fetch Sunday’s food from the refrigerators. Ben’s brothers were to cart it down the road when they left for the service at Preacher Tom’s. As she passed the smithy, the lamplit windows told her the Hooley brothers were up and getting dressed. Who could have guessed the apartment Micah had built for her and Rhoda would be seeing so much use by so many folks?
And I thank Ya, Lord, that Ya brought those brothers to Willow Ridge . . . and I ask Your special blessin’ on the proceedin’s at today’s members’ meetin’. Things could get testy if we forget we’re doin’ Your work while we hear Hiram’s confession and decide what comes next.
Miriam slipped into the back kitchen door and flipped on the light.
“Good morning, Miriam.”
She yelped and fell back against the door. “Hiram! Ya scared me halfway to Kingdom Come.”
“I know you’re busy, so I won’t take but a moment of your time—and time is of the essence,” the bishop added as he rose from the stool he’d been sitting on. “I’ve been hoping to speak with you all week, rather than catching you at the eleventh hour—”
Miriam remained by the door. Hiram was dressed in his black trousers and vest, wearing a crisp white shirt . . . looking as imperious as he always did at church. He wasn’t acting predatory, exactly, but his tone made her wary. “I’ve been right here, runnin’ the café, ya know.”
“—but that infernal Hooley woman has been driving me insane,” he continued in a frustrated rush. “She thinks I
need
her! Insists I eat my meals at home—”
A smile twitched at Miriam’s lips. “So . . . whose house is it, Hiram?”
“—and meanwhile, she’s brainwashing my children. The twins and Sara know their alphabet now, so they’re constantly hounding me for help with writing everyone’s names—”
“And whose children are they, Hiram?”
The bishop heaved an impatient sigh. He gazed at her, so focused on his own thoughts he hadn’t heard a word she’d said. “Miriam, these past several days away from you, I’ve had a chance to consider why you’ve refused to marry me. I’ve gone about winning you in all the wrong ways, haven’t I?”
This was getting interesting. As the bishop had said, however, time was of the essence. She went to the nearest fridge and opened it. “Hold this, will ya please?” she asked.
Hiram grabbed the door, watching her work. “I understand now why you feel you’re serving God by baking—feeding His sheep—and I appreciate how you keep Tom and Gabe and me fed. So if you wanted to keep running your café after we married—”
Miriam removed the platters of sliced turkey, setting them on the countertop quietly so she didn’t miss a word.
“—and my offer still stands, to redecorate or even remodel the house to suit you.”
She glanced up at him. “It’s a mighty long hike from your place to here. My bakin’ day starts at three, ya know, and I’ve always believed a Plain woman should work at home—close to her children.”
Hiram raked his free hand through his dark hair. “Then I’ll buy a piece of Gabe’s ground across the road!” he exclaimed. “I understand that you’d prefer a new home for raising our family, Miriam. Money’s no object—surely you know that. You’re a fine woman, and you deserve the best.”
Oh, but this was making her bubble up with laughter she didn’t dare turn loose! She carried the bowls of Jerusalem’s layered salad, considering the reasons that might be behind Hiram’s new attitude. How long should she let him grovel before she told him she was marrying Ben?
“Maybe I’m seein’ things that aren’t there, Hiram,” she said quietly, “but from the moment ya met Jerusalem Hooley, it looked like ya
wanted
to spend your time with her. Ya certainly did your best to impress her, bringin’ that fine wagon and Belgian stallion to take those goats to your place.”
He glared, but quickly covered his flare of temper. “Appearances can be deceiving,” he replied pointedly. “I soon found out what a bossy, outspoken, overbearing—”
Was he describing Jerusalem, or himself? As Miriam lifted the large stainless steel bowl of applesauce and set it in an empty space near the door, she filed away information that might be useful later.
“—because with you by my side, Miriam, the People would see my willingness to change and become a more . . . humble servant.” Hiram sighed, gazing earnestly at her. “Humility has never been my strong suit, I admit. But people
listen
to you, Miriam. They respect your opinion and advice, and if you spoke in my behalf—”
Miriam blinked. Was the bishop asking her to sway the vote at the members’ meeting today?
“—they would believe I’m truly a changed man.”
She glanced at the clock, motioning for him to let go of the refrigerator door. How could she respond in a way she wouldn’t live to regret? Hiram had never taken her rejection gracefully. “I—I appreciate your kind words and generous offers, Hiram. But I can’t marry ya.”
His jaw dropped. “Why not?” he demanded. “Haven’t you heard a word I’ve said, Miriam?”
Ah, there it was—his usual refusal to accept the word
no
. Miriam almost blurted that she had accepted Ben’s proposal, but she swallowed the words. Such an announcement deserved to be made in a time of joy rather than as a comeuppance. She clasped her hands in front of her, looking directly into the bishop’s eyes. “I can’t marry ya because I don’t love ya,” she stated. “And ya don’t love me, either, Hiram. Not once has that word entered into any of your conversations about marriage.”
As he opened his mouth to protest, someone knocked boisterously on the door. “Are ya ready for us, Miriam?” Ira Hooley called out. “Got the cart hitched up for ya.”
She had to grin at his fine timing. Had the Hooleys seen the bishop here, or overheard their conversation? “
Jah
, the food’s ready to load! Come on in, fellas.”
Hiram’s face reddened as he quickly leaned forward. “It’s up to
you
,” he whispered tersely. “The new mill isn’t built yet, you know. Cooperation begets more cooperation.”
The door opened and Luke Hooley poked his head inside. “Meant to get here a little earlier, but—oh,
gut
mornin’, Bishop! Catchin’ a bite of breakfast before church?”
Hiram pressed his lips into a line as though he were counting to ten. “My daughter was to be home by eleven o’clock last night, Mr. Hooley.”
Ira came in, waving cheerfully as he stepped around Luke to pick up the bowl of applesauce. “
Jah
, we’re sorry about that,” he replied, “but Annie Mae didn’t mention a curfew until nearly midnight—”
“And Millie was pointin’ us down so many dark roads,” Luke chimed in, “that we had no idea where we were or how long it would take us to get back.”
Hiram’s eyes narrowed as he gave Miriam a purposeful parting glance. “We’ll discuss this later. I have church business to attend to.” When he saw the wagon was backed up nearly against the door, Hiram pivoted on his heel and headed through the dining room to go out the café’s main entrance.
Miriam gathered bowls of salad into her arms to hand to Luke, waiting until the bishop had closed the door. Then a fit of giggles overtook her, which made Ben’s brothers chuckle, too. “
Gut
to see ya, boys. I
so
appreciate your showin’ up to help me this way.”
“Does that mean we can polish off this fine pie?” Ira gestured toward the counter where the pies were wrapped and ready to go. “Wouldn’t wanna take one for the common meal that’s already been half eaten, would ya?”
Miriam gaped. She’d been so busy following Hiram’s every move she hadn’t noticed the sticky spoon and the crumbs on the counterop, next to a peach pie with a large, irregular hole—as though someone had taken a huge bite out of it.
“Well, I’ll be—” She let out an exasperated sigh. “
Jah
, ya might as well finish that one off, boys. Looks like a mighty big mouse got in.”
“Maybe ya ought to start lockin’ up,” Luke remarked.
Ira took two forks from the drawer. “Or set a mighty big mousetrap.”
As the women came into Tom Hostetler’s kitchen before the worship service, Miriam and Rhoda found places for the food many of them brought. Their platters of sliced turkey and bowls of layered salad had completely filled his refrigerator, so they set Rhoda’s applesauce and the incoming food out in the unheated mud room where it would stay fresh on such a cold morning. All was ready . . .
But what would happen if their bishop, Hiram Knepp, was put under the ban?
It was the question on everyone’s mind as they entered the house. A cold wind was blowing, so folks didn’t linger outside to visit; they put their coats in a back room and then shook Hiram’s hand and greeted Jeremiah Shetler and Enos Mullet, the bishops from New Haven and Morning Star. The men entered the huge main room from one side and the women from the other, in lines that went from oldest to youngest. They sat solemnly on the tightly packed pews, silent. Waiting.
Miriam slipped into line behind Leah and Naomi, and they filled in the row behind Ben’s two aunts. Gabe Glick, Tom, Reuben, and the bishops entered last, taking their places in the center of the big room. They removed their hats in one smooth, orchestrated motion that had been their tradition since time untold.
But it was
not
tradition, this event they would witness today, watching as their bishop knelt before them to confess his sins.
Or has he wiggled out of it again? Confessed to the other bishops, as he did before?
Miriam set aside those thoughts as the men on the other side of the room murmured among themselves, deciding who would be the song leader. The first syllable of the hymn rang out in a mellow, rounded tone that made folks look around to see who that new voice belonged to.
Miriam’s body thrummed: it was Ben! Why hadn’t she realized he would be a fine singer, considering the rolling cadence of his speech? As always, the bishops and preachers retired into an upstairs bedroom to discuss who would deliver the day’s sermons and other matters needing their attention, while the congregation sang for another half hour. As the leaders returned to their pew in the center and the hymn ended, all minds and hearts were focused on what would happen next.
Tom Hostetler rose, looking weighted down by his responsibilities as one of their preachers. “The lectionary lists the eleventh and twelfth chapters of Hebrews as the passages for our consideration today,” he began. “These were verses decided upon by the leaders of our Old Order some time ago, yet it’s also the topic on all of our minds this mornin’. This is not coincidence, my friends. It is the will of God at work among us.”
He paused to draw a long breath. His solemn mood seemed to be affirmed by the looks on the faces he saw. “Every one of us has fallen short of the standards God delivered to Moses—and to us—in the Ten Commandments, just as we have failed to follow Jesus’s teachin’s about lovin’ the Lord and lovin’ our neighbors,” he went on in a bolder voice. “It is our admission of sin—our conformin’ to the faith by way of confession—that keeps us on the narrow way to salvation. Not a one of us can point a finger at our neighbor and blame him or her for what we have done. And not a one of us can claim to be followin’ God’s will perfectly.” Once again he paused to emphasize his next point. “It’s not for us to judge who best keeps the Lord’s commandments, either. That’s a job for God alone . . . and for that we are thankful.”
Miriam and many around her nodded. Who wanted the responsibility of declaring Hiram Knepp a sinner? And who, having sinned, wanted to be judged according to the whims and biases of neighbors? She sat absolutely still, following every word Tom spoke. He sounded more eloquent today—more inspired—than he ever had before. He spoke of the faith of Abraham and Moses and Noah, who listened to God’s call and believed in it, centuries before Jesus came to bring salvation.
After Tom sat down, everyone knelt on the floor for silent prayer. Then Reuben Reihl, their redheaded deacon, read the Scripture for the day. He was a big fellow, strong from farming and managing his poultry business, yet today he, too, seemed burdened by his calling. As he read the eleventh chapter of Hebrews, he reconfirmed what Tom had preached about the faith of great men and women of the Old Testament. As he made his way through the twelfth chapter, everyone sat a little straighter.

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