Promise Lodge (15 page)

Chapter Thirteen

Rosetta smoothed the quilt she and Christine had just put on the double bed they'd made up. As she looked around the cabin they'd furnished with pieces that had once been in the Hershbergers' home, she smiled. “These cottages are looking really homey, now that they've been painted and repaired,” she said. “How many more do you suppose we should fix up? New residents will probably bring their own furniture, and they might as well use it.”

“We'll also have families who come to look us over before they decide whether to move,” Christine pointed out. “For now, I think the four cabins we've set up are enough. We have a couple of extra beds in the cellar, if we need to furnish any others.”

“We already have four new families ready to build homes. That's so exciting! I suspect they'll start showing up soon, too.” Rosetta sighed contentedly as she glanced out the front window. “Won't be long until Deborah and Noah have the rest of the cabins painted and repaired. Maybe they'll tackle some rooms in the lodge after that.”

“They seem to be a couple again,” Christine remarked with a chuckle. “My girls were hoping Deborah could help them and Mattie out in the gardens more, but Preacher Amos made the right decision. She's a better, faster painter than any of the rest of us.”

“
Jah,
I've not seen any speckles of paint on the floorboards—which is more than I can say when I use a roller.” When Queenie began barking excitedly, Rosetta glanced out the window. Preacher Amos was riding through the arched entryway sign on horseback, slowing his mount from a graceful canter to a walk as he approached the lodge. “By the looks of Amos's smile, he found more letters in the post office box. Shall we see who they're from? It's time to finish getting dinner ready anyway.”

The grass felt cool to Rosetta's bare feet as she and Christine stepped outside. The old maple trees provided welcome shade on this sunny June day, while out in the sunshine the honeysuckle and trumpet vines whispered in the breeze and spread their sweet perfume. When Amos waved at them, his hand held several envelopes.

“See you inside after I unsaddle Mabel!” he called out. “You've got a letter from Coldstream, Rosetta.”

Christine smiled and linked her arm through Rosetta's. “It'll be
gut
to hear from an old friend—maybe someone who misses us,” she said. “Meanwhile, Amos will be looking for coffee and a snack of some sort. How about if I slice that cinnamon swirl bread you made and put out the cookies we'll have for dessert while you put the meat loaf and veggies in the oven?”

“I'll boil water to brew iced tea, too,” Rosetta replied as they entered the lodge. “Mattie and the girls will be hot after working in the sun all morning.”

As she and her sister began preparing the noon meal, Rosetta hummed happily. This kitchen was feeling like home to her, and she looked forward to the day when new residents would be sitting at the dining room tables, getting acquainted and talking about the homes they were building—or the apartments the single ladies wanted to rent—and the businesses they would establish. The back door creaked as Amos came in and removed his straw hat.

“Four new letters today, along with a flyer from the mercantile in Forest Grove. It's a
gut
thing that place carries a wide variety of groceries and hardware, since the business district of Promise isn't much more than the post office and a gas station,” he remarked as he pulled out his chair at the table.

After Rosetta put the meat loaf and vegetables in the oven, she grinned with anticipation as she joined Amos in the dining room. “Oh, I've looked forward to hearing from folks in—”

When she saw the return address, her eyebrows rose. “I wasn't figuring to hear from Bertha Chupp, though. She never had much to say to me, until after the folks died. Told me I should be baking pies to entice men to date me—as though I had dozens of single fellows my age to choose from.”

Rosetta tore the envelope open and removed two folded sheets of pale blue stationery, which were covered from edge to edge with lines of tight, precise handwriting. She scowled as she skimmed the first page. “My word, this letter's so full of vinegar, I could pour oil on it and dress a salad,” she blurted. “Not that anyone would find it fit to eat.”

Christine looked up as she set a small plate of cinnamon bread in front of Preacher Amos. “Why would Bertha waste time and paper being snippy—and to
you,
Rosetta? What'd she say?”

Inhaling deeply to settle her nerves, Rosetta debated about whether to read such a mean-spirited message aloud—except it made reference to all of the Bender sisters, not just to her. “All right, here goes,” she said in a strained voice. “‘Rosetta, I held my tongue when I heard you and your kin were pulling out of Coldstream, but someone needs to point out the error of your ways and set you straight about a few things. How dare you sell your farms to English rather than giving your Amish neighbors a chance at your land? Now the church district has big holes in it—'”

“Well, there's her first mistake,” Christine interrupted tersely. “We
asked
if they wanted the land—”

“But the ones I spoke with couldn't come up with enough cash anytime soon,” Preacher Amos chimed in as he stirred sugar into his coffee. “Some of the folks in Coldstream are like family to me, but I refused to take a big loss on my property just so somebody local could buy it.”

“Same here,” Christine said. “Mattie and I were downright offended at a couple of offers the men living on either side of us made. They thought that because we're widows, we wouldn't know they were undercutting the value of our land and houses.”

“Oh, it gets better,” Rosetta muttered before she continued reading. “‘Not only does your selling out cast a bad light on Obadiah's leadership of the Coldstream church district, but you and your sisters have gone far astray by presuming to start up a new colony without asking his permission—and without having the leadership of a bishop who will guide you in laying the proper groundwork to form a congregation of God's true church.'”

“Never mind that you've got an ordained preacher taking charge of that part,” Amos remarked.

“‘Not only was Mattie out of line, enticing Preacher Amos to leave the district that God chose him to help lead,'” Rosetta continued in a rising voice, “‘but you women have behaved in a sinfully prideful way, taking up your own pursuits rather than marrying, as the Bible says the weaker sex is meant to do.'”

Christine frowned. “
Jah,
I'm getting weaker by the moment listening to Bertha's claptrap, too. What brought this on, I wonder?” she asked as she got the dinner plates from the cupboard. “She rarely strung two sentences together around me while I was a married woman tending my family, but
now
. Mercy.”

Preacher Amos sighed as he dunked a cookie into his coffee. “Bertha has incorrectly implied that Mattie lured me away from Coldstream with improper words or behavior—and I resent such a slur on Mattie's character. I made my own decision to leave, for many reasons.”

Rosetta, who'd been skimming the remainder of the letter, nearly ripped it into shreds—except she felt Amos and Christine should bear witness to the unsettling words Bertha Chupp had closed with. “‘I find it equally disturbing that Deborah Peterscheim has run off rather than facing the consequences of her wayward, improper behavior the night of the fire at your parents' place. I suspect she's hiding herself amongst you liberal, misguided folks, heedless of the havoc she's wreaked upon this town and of the shame she's heaped upon her family.'”

Christine's eyebrows rose. “Let's not forget that Bertha's son played a part in—”

“Oh, she's getting to him,” Rosetta said, shaking her head sadly. “‘Isaac tells me Deborah broke up with Noah Schwartz a while back, so I also suspect she's worming her way into his good graces again, under false pretenses. My son was appalled when Deborah came around to see him on the sly while she was still engaged to Noah, so here's a word to the wise: she's trouble, that one. Noah—and the rest of you—should take her lies with a grain of salt. Send her home, where she belongs. Deborah should confess her sins before the congregation she has wronged and face the discipline she deserves.'”

A little sob made Rosetta turn toward the doorway. Her heart shriveled. How long had Deborah and Noah been standing in the kitchen? “Oh, kids, I'm so sorry you heard Bertha Chupp's vicious letter,” she said ruefully. “Don't think for a second that any of us believe what she's saying.”

“But why would Isaac accuse me of sneaking over to see him?” Deborah was struggling to be strong but her voice wavered. “What if he's been telling other lies to folks around Coldstream—maybe that
I
was to blame for the fire and—and that I made that phone call after I set it, to mislead the sheriff? That's how twisted Isaac's thinking gets sometimes.”

Rosetta's mouth dropped open. “No one would believe such lies about you, Deborah! Nor do we need to waste any more time considering the falsehoods Bertha's written about the rest of us.” She hurried into the kitchen to throw the letter in the trash.

“Don't think for a minute I believe any of Bertha's gossip, either,” Noah insisted as he grabbed Deborah's hand. “I'm going back to Coldstream to set those people straight. If the bishop's wife is writing that sort of letter to Rosetta, I don't even want to think about what she's telling everyone there about us.”

“I'm calling the Chupps right now!” Christine said as she strode toward the phone in the pantry. “If anyone deserves discipline and needs to confess, it's the bishop's wife—”

“Wait just a moment, folks.” Preacher Amos rose from his seat and gazed at them all with his deep brown eyes. “Let's not forget how the Bible warns against lashing out in the heat of the moment. Deborah's
dat
and I have both preached on that passage from the book of James—the one that says we should be quick to hear, but slow to speak and slow to anger because the wrath of man doesn't work toward the righteousness of God.”

Rosetta took a deep breath. Everyone else in the room got quiet, considering what Amos had said about reacting in anger. “Truth be told, I can't imagine Bertha spending the time or effort to write me such a letter,” she murmured. “It does make me wonder what sort of talk is going around Coldstream, however.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” Amos replied. “Do any of you know what her handwriting looks like? Before now, we've not had the occasion to receive letters from anyone in Coldstream.”

Rosetta shook her head, wondering what Amos might be thinking. Christine and Deborah indicated that they'd never seen Bertha's writing, either. It wasn't as though the bishop's wife had been one to share recipes or anything else she would have written.

“I'll call Obadiah,” Amos said as he walked across the kitchen. “The bishop needs to know about this letter and to ask his wife some questions about it.”

Preacher Amos tapped in the number on the wall phone and waited while the Chupps' message machine played its recording. “Obadiah, this is Amos Troyer. We've received a disturbing, rather malicious letter from Bertha, which contains a number of false accusations against Deborah Peterscheim and all of us who sold our property in Coldstream,” he said calmly. “If you or your wife have bones to pick with any of us, you're welcome to come to Promise Lodge and discuss these issues with us face-to-face. I felt you should know about this letter because I fear for your wife's soul if she's spreading the same sort of gossip about us around Coldstream. We wish you God's blessings and His peace.”

The preacher hung up. “How did I do? It's not our place to make threats, but I will
not
tolerate any further interference from the Chupp family.”

Deborah nodded. “If we let Bertha's words rile us up, we're not behaving any better than she did when she wrote them.”

“You're right,” Rosetta agreed as she went to the silverware drawer. “Promise Lodge is a place of peace. We have no use for such nasty gossip as Bertha's—which convinces me yet again that we did the right thing when we left Coldstream. Let's get on with our day, shall we?”

When Mattie, Laura, Phoebe, and Roman came in for dinner, Rosetta mentioned the letter she'd received, but she didn't show it to them. What good would come of repeating Bertha Chupp's inflammatory remarks?

“Of all the families we know in Coldstream, why do the Chupps always seem to rub us the wrong way?” Laura asked. She poured glasses of iced tea for everyone before drinking one herself to cool off.

“I'm glad we've got better things to do than responding to Bertha's gossip—and pleased that you called Obadiah to that effect, Amos,” Mattie said. When she'd set the platter of meat loaf on the table, they all took their seats. “I'm thankful for the way the rain has made our garden plots grow these past few days, and grateful for
gut,
honest work—and for the family and friends who share these things with me.”

“Amen to that,” Preacher Amos said. “As we thank God for this wonderful food, let's also put in a word for the Chupps. They're in need of prayer and healing, I believe.”

Rosetta bowed her head.
Lord, we are grateful for Your many gifts and for this food. Give us the grace to continue on this path You've led us to at Promise Lodge. I ask Your special blessings on Deborah—and Noah—as she deals with another hurtful message from folks in Coldstream. Deliver us from evil. Thy will be done.