Breath of Spring (8 page)

“Well, here it is the first Friday night of February and I haven’t read
The Budget
from the end of January yet.” Ben chuckled as he settled beside Miriam on the sofa. “Sounds like quite a hot date for us, ain’t so?”

Miriam leaned against him and kissed his cheek. His new beard was getting long enough to be soft instead of bristly, and she loved nuzzling it. “It’s the perfect night to stay in by the fire,” she replied. “And isn’t it a treat, hearin’ Rebecca and the Knepp sisters chatterin’ like magpies, havin’ a little sewin’ frolic in the spare room?”

Ben glanced toward the doorway where the girls were as he picked up the newspaper. “Annie Mae surely must miss goin’ out with fellas on the weekends.”

“She’s learnin’ that workin’ on her feet all day, all week long, can take some of that run-around out of ya,” Miriam replied. “Could be she feels safer stayin’ tucked away with us, too, instead of bein’ out where Hiram might meet up with her. His visit to the Sweet Seasons spooked her.”

For a few moments they read in comfortable silence as Miriam rested her head on Ben’s shoulder, holding one side of the paper while he held the other.
The Budget
was made up of page after page of letters from the Amish and Mennonite settlements all around the country. She and Ben first read the reports from towns where they had family and friends, before glancing at the scribes’ letters from other areas. Ben had just turned a page to read about his home district in Lancaster County when he let out a gasp.

“And what do we have here? A report from Higher Ground, Missouri!” he said, jabbing the page with his finger.

Miriam sat straight up, scanning to the bottom of the column. “Written by a scribe named Delilah Knepp,” she murmured. “Ohhh, Ben, are ya thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’? There’s nobody but Hiram livin’ there yet, ain’t so?”

“We don’t know that for a fact,” he pointed out. “But obviously some gal named Delilah is there, too. Truth be told, when I saw what Hiram had done to his hair, I figured he was fishin’ for his next wife.”

“Well, he’s gotta have somebody to watch those four little kids,” she remarked sadly. “Who knows what he might’ve told this Delilah gal to get her to marry him?”

“Who says he’s married to her? Lots of Knepps live over past Morning Star, and he might’ve convinced one of his cousins or aunts to keep the kids while he latches on to a wife,” Ben speculated. “And he’s havin’ her write up a weekly letter so it looks like the town’s all set up. Nothin’ about that man surprises me anymore.”

They both read the column for a moment before Ben spoke again. “Hmmm . . . says here they’ve got fifteen new homes and the school completed, plus a dry goods store and other shops. Quite a pitch here, for more folks to come to his new colony. Still time for us to sign on, honey-girl.”

“Puh! I’m guessin’ Higher Ground’s gonna be a cesspool of surprises and all manner of deceptions in the fine print, which unsuspectin’ new residents will learn about the hard way.” Miriam shook her head. “You’ll notice the letter’s heading doesn’t say it’s an Amish or a Mennonite settlement—so who knows what sort of
religion
he intends to preach? We need to keep Josh, Joey, Sara, and Timmy in our prayers.”

“I see no need to show this to Annie Mae and Nellie.” Ben glanced toward the open door of the spare room as a burst of girlish laughter erupted. “They’ll find out soon enough what-all’s goin’ on with their
dat
.”

“No point in spoilin’ the fun they’re havin’ with Rebecca,” Miriam agreed. “It’s real special to me that my English daughter’s gettin’ to be such
gut
friends with the Knepp girls, since Rhoda’s so busy helpin’ the Leitners pack up and Rachel’s gettin’ ready for a baby. Now that Millie Glick’s livin’ with her grandparents, she’s not gettin’ out with Annie Mae like she used to, either.”

“
Jah,
it all works out. God’s bein’
gut
to each of us—most especially to me.” Ben leaned into her, kissing her firmly on the lips. “The girls can entertain themselves, so any time ya feel like goin’ upstairs—”

A burst of jazzy music signaled that Rebecca’s cell phone was ringing, and then she stepped out of the spare room to take the call. Rebecca waved at them and remained at the far end of the front room so she wouldn’t disturb them. “Well, hello there, Adam,” she said in a low voice. “I wondered when you’d call—let me get my laptop and see what we can find.”

Miriam chuckled. It was different, having a girl who carried a cell phone and did her work from a flip-top computer, but she respected this daughter for her skills. It wouldn’t be long before Rebecca was situated as Andy Leitner’s receptionist and had her website designing office in the upstairs of the building he was renovating, so Miriam was enjoying this time while her third daughter lived in their
dawdi haus
.

A few moments later Rebecca had her computer up and running on the kitchen table. “And you say it’s an Indian . . . a Chief?” she murmured.

It looked awkward to Miriam, the way Rebecca held her phone between her shoulder and her ear while she typed on her computer, but young people didn’t seem to notice any discomfort when it came to being connected to their electronics.

“Got any more information on it?” she asked in a businesslike tone. “Like a date, or a model? Okay, so it’s . . . black with a red edging around the seat . . . and Matthias says it’s
vintage?
” For a few moments Rebecca focused on her screen as her fingers tapped the keyboard. Then her eyes got wide. “I just brought up a photograph of a motorcycle like you’ve described—a really hot-looking Indian Chief Roadmaster, fully restored, black all over, with silver stud decorations,” she said in a rising voice. “Dates back to 1946—”

Miriam glanced at Ben. “What would the Waglers be doin’ with a motorcycle?” she whispered.

Ben shrugged, gesturing for her to be quiet.

“Holy cow, Adam! If this is even close to what your cycle looks like, it’s worth—well, before we get all excited, I need to come over and see it, to be sure we’re on the same page,” Rebecca suggested. “I’ll need to take a picture of it anyway, if you want me to post an ad . . . yeah, if it needs to be cleaned up, you should do that first. But I would really like to
see
this motorcycle!”

About that time, Annie Mae and Nellie came out of the spare room, carrying their mugs. Miriam could tell by their expressions that they’d overheard Rebecca, and that curiosity as much as the desire for more cocoa was luring them into the kitchen. Without a word, Annie Mae slipped behind Rebecca to look at her computer screen. Her hand flew to her mouth and her eyes got wide.

“Yeah, I could be there in about ten minutes,” Rebecca said. “Great. I’m on my way.”

When she clicked off her phone, Annie Mae pointed toward the screen. “Did I hear ya right, that Adam’s got a motorcycle? And it looks like
that?
”

Rebecca chuckled. “I’m going over there to see exactly what it looks like so I can help him sell it. Want to come along?”

“But—but Adam joined the church a long while back, after his
mamm
got killed,” Nellie protested. “What would he be doin’ with a—”

“And why didn’t we know he had it?” Annie Mae asked incredulously. “Surely we would’ve seen him ridin’ it, or—”

Rebecca shrugged as she folded the top of her computer down. “Come along and ask him yourself,” she said. “I’m leaving as soon as I grab my coat and keys.”

From where she sat on the couch, Miriam watched amazement, confusion, and doubt play over Annie Mae’s face as she shook her head. “Well, this puts a whole new spin to the bottle, ain’t so?” she murmured to Ben. “All these years we’ve thought Adam was tamer than most fellas—joinin’ the church without havin’ a girlfriend, even.”

Ben glanced around his side of the newspaper to observe the scene in the kitchen. “Solid fella, though. And he did a fine job of finishin’ out your new kitchen and paintin’ our walls here.”

“
Jah,
and Annie Mae’s more interested in him than she wants to let on,” Miriam murmured. “But she’s heatin’ more water for cocoa, it seems, instead of goin’ along with Rebecca.”

“Bye, Mamma. Good night, Ben,” Rebecca called to them as she slipped into her bright yellow parka. “I won’t be long.”

“You’re an adult, honey-girl,” Ben replied as he waved to her. “Your comin’ and goin’ is your business.”

“But I like it that ya keep us posted,” Miriam chimed in. “We’ll see ya in the morning.”

“Bright and early to open the café,” Rebecca replied. “Bye, girls.”

“
Jah,
see ya tomorrow,” Annie Mae called after her.

“
Gut
talkin’ to ya while we sewed our dresses,” said Nellie.

When Ben looked at Miriam, his eyes as warm and dark as hot fudge, her heart danced. It was easy to see what he had in mind now—and it had nothing to do with Higher Ground or motorcycles or the news from Lancaster. And wasn’t it a fine way to end a winter’s day, snuggling beneath the quilts with her handsome younger husband?

Ben folded the newspaper and they rose from the sofa together, clasping hands.

“Won’t take us but fifteen minutes to finish the two dresses we’ve been workin’ on,” Annie Mae said as she and her sister emerged from the kitchen with their steaming mugs. “But we’ll come back another time, if you’d rather—”

“Stay as long as ya want, girls,” Miriam assured her. “Sounds like ya made some
gut
progress tonight.”

“Leave the kitchen lamp burnin’ for Rebecca,” Ben suggested as he lit a lantern to take upstairs. “And give our best to Rhoda when she gets back to your apartment.”

As the tattoo of Ben’s boots on the wooden staircase quickened her heartbeat, Miriam felt a rush of desire. Her husband’s affection was giving her a whole new outlook on life—the kind of love she hoped Rebecca and the Knepp girls would find for themselves someday. But as she and Ben entered their room, their faces lit by the lantern’s glow, Miriam promptly forgot about everyone else.

If the lot fell to Ben on Sunday morning, would they sacrifice these delightful private times because he was learning how to serve the church as a new preacher? Miriam reached up to kiss him, determined to fully enjoy every moment of every day—and night—she shared with this wonderful man.

“As we begin our Members’ Meeting, I’m especially blessed that my longtime friend, Bishop Vernon Gingerich, has come from Cedar Creek to be with us today,” Bishop Tom announced to the folks who sat crowded on the pew benches. “What with needin’ to select two new preachers, we welcome all the help and wise counsel God sends our way.”

Ben’s heart skittered. Not many men in Willow Ridge were eligible to become a preacher, so the odds that the lot would fall to him seemed high. He gazed across the Brennemans’ expanded front room to catch Miriam’s eye . . . to settle himself as she focused on him with her gentle, encouraging smile. What a blessing that such a stalwart, faithful woman was now his wife and helpmate.

“Before we proceed with the selection process,” Bishop Gingerich said as he rose from the preachers’ bench, “I’m delighted to announce that Jerusalem Hooley has agreed to become my wife. We’ll be wed later in the spring—as soon as I can prepare my home to welcome her.”

An excited “oh!” was followed by a buzz of voices as the men craned their necks and the women beamed at Ben’s middle-aged aunt, who sat in their midst.

Ben chuckled. Aunt Jerusalem had glowed with a special radiance these past few weeks, so Vernon’s announcement came as no surprise. This marriage marked yet another turning point for his family . . . another new beginning for someone he loved dearly. No one was happier than he that his two
maidel
aunts had found such upstanding mates, even though he would miss his more outspoken aunt once she moved away from Willow Ridge.

“Rest assured that Jerusalem’s not gonna be gone or forgotten,” Bishop Tom added with a boyish grin. “She and my Nazareth have already declared that our visiting Sundays will be spent in Cedar Creek, while Vernon and Jerusalem will bless us with their presence on
their
visiting Sundays, when we have church. Seems like a
gut
solution for both our districts and our families.”

Tom clasped his hands before him then, assuming a more serious expression. “As all those who’ve not yet joined the church leave the room, I’d suggest that the rest of us pray over which two men should become our new leaders. Preacher Gabe’ll be sittin’ in the kitchen while each of ya file by to whisper a name to him. We’ve got six fellas to consider: Micah Brenneman and his
dat,
Ezra, Henry Zook, Dan Kanagy, Atlee Glick, and Ben Hooley.”

Ben closed his eyes, aware of the movement in the crowded room as the unbaptized young people stepped outside with the children in tow.
Grant me Your grace and strength, Lord, should Your hand find my shoulder, and should You deem me fit to lead Your people,
he prayed
. And bless the other fella who fulfills Your will, as well
.

“It is indeed a sacred morning,” Vernon continued in his mellow voice, “when the Lord will show us His presence in a very physical yet mystical way, as He selects two new preachers for Willow Ridge. Let us recall how this process originated, as described in the book of Acts, the first chapter, verses twenty-one through twenty-six.”

All sat silent as the visiting bishop began to read from the big Bible. “‘. . . and they appointed two, Joseph called Barsabas, who was surnamed Justus, and Matthias,’” Vernon said in his resonant voice. “ ‘. . . Thou Lord, which knowest the hearts of all men, shew us whether of these two Thou hast chosen that he may take part in this ministry and apostleship . . . And the lot fell upon Matthias; and he was numbered with the eleven apostles.’”

As Preacher Gabe shuffled toward the kitchen with a pad of paper and a pencil, it became more apparent why he deserved to retire. He looked stooped and slow . . . encumbered with age and the burden of caring for his bedridden wife, even though his granddaughter Millie was now staying with them. Meanwhile, Micah Brenneman and Matthias Wagler brought a small table to the center of the crowded room where the preachers stood. Everyone had become very somber, knowing what a huge responsibility they were about to cast upon two of their members—and upon their families.

Beginning with the eldest, the men filed into the kitchen to name their choices. As Ben reached the kitchen table, he murmured, “Micah,” because he felt Rachel’s husband would serve the Lord and their district with fresh, youthful energy. He noticed the tally marks on Gabe’s paper, but he had no way of knowing which row denoted votes for which of the candidates.

As the women filed into the kitchen, the tension in the room tightened a couple of notches. Naomi Brenneman, Miriam’s sister Leah, and Lydia Zook appeared particularly anxious, knowing—and fearing—that the lot might fall upon their husbands. Rachel’s eyes looked wide as she awaited her turn to rise, but as Miriam passed her daughter on her way down the aisle, they clasped hands. As though her mother’s faith and reassurance had passed into her, Rachel closed her eyes in prayer.

As his Miriam returned to her pew, however, not a glimmer of doubt or fear registered on her lovely face. Before she sat down, his wife gazed directly at him, and Ben knew she had named him despite the sacrifices she would make, and the loss of income and time they would have together.

Ben released the breath he’d been holding. The tension left his body as he returned Miriam’s gaze and reveled in her unshakable faith. For several moments—or was it only a few?—the crowd around them disappeared. It was only he and Miriam, connected by invisible, invincible ties; a love far deeper than he could ever have imagined enveloped him. Had there ever been anyone who so completely believed in him? When Miriam smiled, Ben felt God’s blessings and joy fill his soul.

Soon Preacher Gabe was shuffling down the aisle toward Tom and Vernon, to reveal the names of the men who’d been mentioned the most. The bishops nodded solemnly, took up four hymnals, and then each of them slipped a handwritten Bible verse into a book. They laid the four books on the table, shuffling and shifting them so no one could possibly know which ones held the verses.

Bishop Tom gazed at the men’s side of the crowded room. “Will these fellas please come forward as I call your names: Micah Brenneman, Ben Hooley, Dan Kanagy, and Henry Zook.”

Gasps went up from the women’s side, but as Ben rose from his pew he fastened his gaze on Miriam once more. Bolstered by the sense of peace radiating from his wife’s face, he took his place at the table and then reached for an
Ausbund
. The house was so quiet, he heard the wind whistling through a crack in the window behind them . . .
the Holy Spirit coming amongst us,
he mused.

The bishops walked solemnly to the ends of the table. “We’ll begin on this side,” Tom said. “Let the pages of your book hang freely, high enough that all can see.”

To Ben’s left, young Micah looked pale and wide-eyed as he raised his hymnal in shaking hands. The pages whispered as he ran his thumbs along their edges, but nothing fell out. He exhaled with relief and then looked at Ben.

Ben slowly lifted his hymnal, aware that every eye was focused on him. When he let the pages shimmy, out fluttered a white slip of paper, almost like a dove. As he caught it in one hand, a murmur of approval filled the room.

Serve the Lord with gladness,
he read silently. Ben smiled at Bishop Tom, pleased that he’d chosen the hymnal containing the verse penned in his friend’s script.

Then the suspense intensified. The next lot would fall to either Dan Kanagy, who raised sheep, or to Henry Zook, their local butcher and storekeeper. Dan’s boys, Nate and Bram, would soon marry and move away to their new acreage, which would leave their
dat
shorthanded enough that taking on a preacher’s extra duties would be a strain on him and Leah. But then, Henry was raising a raft of kids, so the burdens of running Zook’s Market and managing their large family would fall to Lydia when her husband was studying to take on his new post, or out seeing to the needs of the Willow Ridge district.

Dan exhaled and closed his eyes. He thrust his hymnal up and shook it between his hands—

A wail went up from the women’s side. All the wives seated around Lydia Zook wrapped their arms around her as they murmured their support. Henry, at the end of the table, didn’t even bother to raise his
Ausbund
. His head fell forward and he squeezed his eyes shut.

“‘Thy will be done on Earth as it is in Heaven,’” Bishop Vernon intoned as he placed his hand on Henry’s shaking shoulders. “‘This is the Lord’s doing, and it is marvelous in our eyes.’”

“And He has blessed us with two fine new preachers,” Bishop Tom went on in an excited voice. “It’ll be an honor to work with Ben and Henry as they prepare to serve our district. It’s a journey we’ll make together, fellas, what with me still bein’ green as your bishop.”

“But no man walks this road alone,” Vernon reassured them. “I’ll be here often to assist you, as will Jeremiah Shetler and Enos Mullet from your neighboring districts. Today marks a strong new beginning for the Willow Ridge district, and I’m honored that God has made me a part of it.” He paused to gaze at the crowd as though every person there was a close, personal friend. “Let’s proceed now with the ordination service, and then we’ll celebrate during our common meal.”

Once again Ben found Miriam’s gaze . . . saw how her eyes glowed with devotion and unshed tears of joy. A few pews in front of her, however, Lydia Zook was crying openly, her shoulders hunched and shaking as her friends consoled her. Henry’s stiff expression didn’t hide his doubts . . . his abject
fear,
as he gripped the edge of the table so hard his knuckles turned white.

“We’ll share a moment of silent prayer before we ordain these men,” Tom said.

As all heads bowed, Ben closed his eyes.
Give me Your grace and strength, Lord. Show us how to help Henry past his resistance to Your will . . .

As Annie Mae lingered in the doorway of the Brennemans’ carpentry shop, she watched Nellie and Katie Zook chatting with Hannah Brenneman while the three younger Zook kids built a snow fort with Taylor and Brett Leitner. Inside the building, the Kanagy brothers and Jonah Zook were visiting with Seth and Aaron, who had opened their shop as a place to get in out of the wind until they were all called back into the house. Andy was in there, too, while Rhoda took part in the Members’ Meeting.

But where did
she
belong?

Annie Mae’s heart thudded sadly as she thought back over the Sundays when Josh, Joey, Timmy, and little Sara had frolicked outside with the Zook kids. She and Millie Glick had laughed and chatted while they’d watched the kids play, comparing notes on their dates with Luke and Ira Hooley . . . but now Millie was her grandparents’ caretaker while Annie Mae worked six days a week at the Sweet Seasons.

She felt a growing separation . . . a chasm between where she had once fit in and where she found herself now. Because her
dat
had made such a muddle of things, Annie Mae no longer knew her place in the pecking order. And Dat might come back to torment her again . . . any day.

The wind made her shiver and pull her black coat closer around her. Why didn’t she just step inside the carpentry shop to get warm? She’d known those fellows forever.

They’ll think I’m scoutin’ for a date. Or they’ll make some remark about Adam, or . . .

Truth be told, she didn’t know what to think about Adam. He still greeted her weekday mornings with the same open smile as he ordered his breakfast, yet he hadn’t said one word about the motorcycle stashed in his barn—even though he’d had Rebecca over to look at it. Annie Mae was secretly intrigued that Adam owned such a shiny, sinful-looking vehicle . . . had even imagined herself riding on it, with her arms wrapped around him as the cycle’s roar engulfed them and the wind whipped them on the open road.

But that was silly. He’d joined the church, and it was wrong for him to own a motorcycle, much less ride it. Rebecca had read on her computer that such a bike might sell for more than twenty-five thousand dollars if it was in good condition.
Twenty-five thousand dollars!
Annie Mae couldn’t fathom having so much money, much less understand how Adam had afforded such a cycle before he’d turned seventeen.

The honk of a horn brought her out of her musings. A low-slung car, bluer than a summer sky, was rolling slowly by out on the road. And then it stopped. Who around here would drive such a fast-looking set of wheels? And why would they be stopping where dozens of buggies were parked along Ezra Brenneman’s long lane?

Suddenly, the doors on both sides of the car rose up—like wings! When they lowered again, the driver waved to her from behind the car.

Annie Mae’s heart nearly leapt out of her chest. “Yonnie!” she hollered. And just that fast she was jogging toward the road, waving crazily. “Yonnie Stoltzfus, what’re ya doin’ in Willow Ridge? And in that fancy blue sports car, no less?”

His grin brought back a host of memories as he leaned nonchalantly on the roof, watching her. Yonnie Stoltzfus had been her ticket out of the house on more nights than she could count, before she’d even turned sixteen. He was the first boy who’d ever kissed her—and oh, could he kiss!
Better than Luke, even.

Annie Mae halted at the road’s edge, suddenly aware that her sister and the other girls were watching her. Yonnie remained on the other side of his car, resting on his elbows as he drank her in with his silvery-green eyes . . .
eyes like a cat,
she’d always thought. She swallowed hard, hoping not to sound silly—or worse yet, too eager to see him. “So what’re ya doin’ here?” she asked again.

“I came to see
you,
Annie Mae.”

She sucked in her breath. Reminded herself that this reckless young man could come up with a line for every occasion, quicker than most folks could blink. “
Jah,
well, ya found me,” she murmured.

“And you’re lookin’ gooood, too,” he replied as his dimples came out to play.

Annie Mae clasped her hands together hard, as a way to keep in touch with reality. It had been so long since she’d gone out with anyone . . . but this wasn’t a good time to think about leaving. “Um, ya must be doin’ all right,” she murmured, gesturing at the shiny blue car.