The Crossroad (15 page)

“What ’bout you, Rosemary?” Lavina was bold enough to ask. “Did you pray the prayer, too?”

There was a slight pause, then the bishop’s wife admitted she had. “I’ve always followed my husband in whatever he chose to do, ya know, as married couples oughta.”

“But you believed it for
yourself
, ain’t so?”

“Oh, my … more than words can say!”

So Lavina hung up the phone and set about cleaning house and bakin’ molasses bread, thanking the Lord for helpin’ her lead two dear souls to himself.

And she knew, without a shadow of doubt, the angels were rejoicin’—twofold—as they wrote down the bishop’s and Rosemary’s names in the Lamb’s Book of Life!

Fourteen

A
festive tree, decorated with slip-glazed gingerbread figures, stars, hearts, angels, tiny mangers, and white twinkling lights, literally brushed the ceiling with its tip-top sprig.

Philip watched his niece busy herself with the gleeful task of distributing gifts to her parents, grandparents, and Philip himself. He had felt somewhat obliged to attend the pre-Christmas Eve gathering when his sister called with her “great idea to get the family together before you leave” and sounding nearly breathless with her pleading that he “must come.” There was the promise of prime rib and, naturally, the family gift exchange.

And he had come, not so much reluctantly as chagrined that his impromptu travel plans had inspired Janice to throw a last-minute party.

He sat in the corner, nearest the tree, in the lone hand-painted Hitchcock chair, one of the many prized antiques his sister had collected over the years. Gazing about him, he took in the bank of windows to his right, where, in the near distance, a spectacular night view of midtown New York’s skyscrapers shimmered against the black sky. Across the room, Janice had decorated a mock mantel, encasing a wide bookcase. On it was a splendid array of evergreen garlands, white candles of varied sizes, ivory roses, and pine cones lightly sprayed with fake snow. Scattered about the room, white poinsettias and fragrant paperwhite narcissus added to the simple, yet elegant, holiday decor. The coffee table, partially covered with a lace doily, was the showcase for dessert—a Bundt cake with icing drizzled down the sides and powdery doughnuts to boot. “Homemade,” Janice had insisted upon first carrying the silver tray into the room, followed by “oohs and aahs” from Philip’s mother, especially. Ken, too, seemed impressed, as did Kari, whose wide eyes told the truth.

The word
homemade
caught Philip off guard, though he should have been prepared, but he wasn’t. His thoughts went twirling away to Lancaster County, although Kari’s interruption brought him back quickly.

“For you, Uncle Phil.” She stood before him, holding a large rectangular present.

“Thank you.” He accepted the gift, then began his usual dramatic shaking of the box, leaning his ear down to determine if there were sounds emerging. “Hmm,
what
could be inside?”

“Not yet.” Kari gave him a playful poke.

Philip’s mother, sitting prim and proper in her white woolen suit and aqua blue brooch, smiled demurely, eyes shining. Dad, looking fit in his perennial red sweater vest, grinned when Kari handed him the family Bible.

“Time for the Christmas story, Grandpa,” she said, recommending Luke’s account.

He began to thumb through the pages. “Luke’s my favorite, too.”

Philip and Janice’s father was a small wiry man, yet a “softie,” as Kari liked to refer to her grandpa, Howard Bradley, a retired Long Island businessman. But when he read the Bible, the family paid close attention because he read with authority, as well as a semblance of tenderness.

The evening went smoothly as family get-togethers go, and when the slightest fussing about “too much money being spent on your parents this year” commenced from none other than Philip’s mother, he rose and excused himself to get some more eggnog in the kitchen.

Janice joined him in a flash. “She makes the same comment every year,” she whispered.

Philip poured his eggnog. “It’s not important.”

She nodded, shrugging. “So … when do you leave?”

“In the morning, as soon as I can get out of town.”

Janice stepped back to survey her brother, hands on hips. “You’re not yourself tonight, and I think you know what I’m talking about.”

“Wouldn’t have a clue.” He made a serious attempt to mask his expression.

She eyed him curiously. “I read your Amish feature last week … nice work.”

“Thanks.”

“C’mon, Phil, there’s more to that article than meets the eye. I
know
you.”

“You’re dreaming.” He forced a droll grin and pushed past her, back to the living room and the merrymaking.

“Never been s’ happy in all my life,” Lavina exclaimed the next morning, bright and early, when she stopped by to visit Rachel. “After I got home from the bishop’s yesterday, I hafta admit I felt like kickin’ up my heels and dancin’ a jig. ’Course, we don’t believe in such things, but I felt like it, all the same.”

Rachel had to smile at her friend’s remark, ever so glad to hear the news of Bishop Seth’s glorious conversion. She sat in a chair near the bed, still wearing her bathrobe and slippers. “I believe I prayed so hard for you while you were at the bishop’s house that my head actually quit paining me,” she said. “It’s a miracle.”

“That’s wonderful-gut news.”

“Jah, and just in time to help Mam get ready for Christmas dinner tomorrow, for which I thank the Lord. Mam says Esther and Levi and the children are comin’ in from Ohio for a few days. It’ll be a fun time for all of us—Annie, too, ’cause all she’s talked ’bout here lately are her young cousins from Ohio, and when is she ever gonna get to see them again.”

“They’ll stay at Leah’s?”

“My aunt and uncle wouldn’t have it any other way,” Rachel replied, excited to see her cousin and family again.

“So … sounds like Susanna’s having Christmas dinner here this year.”

“Jah, but we’re all goin’ over to Aunt Leah’s and Uncle Amos’s tonight after supper for hot cocoa and cookies. We’ll sit ’round the kitchen, talking ’bout the olden days with all the relatives, prob’ly. One of our Christmas Eve rituals.” Rachel enjoyed hearing the old stories, one after another, at such gatherings. Things like hearing how Great-Aunt So-and-So had fun helping her mamma sort potatoes back when, or the first flood of the twentieth century and how they managed to bale water out of the cold cellar, or the time Uncle Samuel heard about “Amish dirt”—as a young boy—and how dumbfounded he was to learn that such dirt held more than six times the water an average no-till field did, due to crop rotation and manure application.

’Course, then again, discussing such farm-related things might not be the best topic for discussion at Christmas. But if she knew Levi and Esther, there’d be plenty talk of farming and reminiscing over their childhood days in Lancaster County.

Remembering—one of the best things ’bout the Christmas season. And she had her own private memories to cherish, though they had nothin’ at all to do with Christmas or any other holiday, for that matter. No, her memories of Philip Bradley had not a single connection to the Amish life and heritage.

“You did
what
?” Ben said, hurrying to close the bedroom door behind Susanna.

“You heard me right.”

He shook his head, coming ’round the side of his plump wife. “Well, what’s our Rachel gonna think of such a thing?”

“Ach, she’ll be just fine with it.” Susanna’s eyes flashed with her connivings. “Besides, it’s high time she meets someone.”

“Well, now, I don’t know ’bout that,” he insisted, going to the window and looking out. “When’s the smithy due over here, anyways?”

“Straight up noon, Christmas Day.”

“And you called him?” he said, turning to look at his wife, still skeptical ’bout what she’d gone and done. Without asking his advice, of all things!

“
I
didn’t call him.”

“But you had a hand in invitin’ him?”

Susanna pursed her lips, trying to smother a smile, it seemed. “John Lapp has received an invitation to dinner here.” That was all she was gonna say ’bout the stunt she’d pulled. He knew it was, ’cause she flounced off to their private bathroom and locked the door with a resounding thud.

Knowin’ there wasn’t much he could do now, Ben left Susie to have her little snit if she wanted to. He headed on downstairs to sit and read
The Budget
by the fire. Soon it would be time to leave for Susanna’s sister’s place. He just hoped Leah’s daughter and son-in-law, back home from the Midwest, would mind their manners and watch what they said ’bout their religious beliefs and whatnot. Why, he’d seen enough strange spiritual goings-on since yesterday at the bishop’s house. And that thing Lavina did, quoting the “deliverance” Scripture over the bishop, or whatever it was she’d called it, well … he wished he’d never agreed to take her over there, causin’ such a ruckus she had. Should’ve asked her what the world she was thinkin’, annoying the poor ailin’ man thataway.

Far as he was concerned, it was a gut idea to keep things solemn just a bit, seein’ as how the People might hafta be laying their bishop in his grave soon, sick as he was.

Copper came bounding into the room just then, wagging his tail like nobody’s business. “Well, hullo there, pooch,” he said, bending down to pet him. “I ’spect you’re lookin’ for a nice Christmas treat, and I know of just the thing.”

He rose with a grunt and marched out to the kitchen, where he knew Susanna kept tiny bone-shaped doggie biscuits. “There, now, that oughta make ya happy,” he said, offering Copper a whole handful, not caring what his wife might say ’bout so many.

Philip unpacked his clothes and hung up the shirts and trousers quickly, hoping to discourage wrinkles. He didn’t mind touch-up ironing, but only if necessary, and there were more important things on his mind today. Once he was settled in his room at the inn, he planned to make a surprise afternoon visit to Adele Herr. She wouldn’t be expecting him until tomorrow evening, but a lady like Adele shouldn’t be alone on Christmas Eve without the love of family or close friends. He would see to it that she laughed and enjoyed herself
both
days. After that, he wasn’t sure of his game plan. He would trust the Lord to guide his every step. Whether or not his steps led him back to Bird-in-Hand remained to be seen.

The walkway leading to Fairview Nursing Home was trimmed with white lights, and along the porch, boughs of evergreen and an occasional lantern dressed up the outside, creating a warm home-away-from-home atmosphere. An enormous holly wreath, decorated with white flowers, fake blueberries, and clusters of cinnamon sticks, provided the initial welcome as Philip pushed open the door.

Inside the foyer area, garlands of evergreen, bedecked with red velvet bows, hung over deep casement windows. A large multiroomed birdhouse made a showcase for colorful glass Christmas balls and was perched on a lamp table near a splendid tree adorned with strands of golden beads and red, white, and gold ornaments.