An Amish Country Christmas (16 page)

Kissing the Bishop

Charlotte Hubbard

Chapter One

Tom Hostetler opened his mailbox out by the snow-packed road and removed a handful
of envelopes. A quick glance revealed a few pieces of junk mail and a letter from
an attorney whose name he didn’t recognize before the
clip-clop! clip-clop!
of an approaching buggy made him look up.

“Morning to you, Tom. And Happy New Year,” Jeremiah Shetler called out as he pulled
his Belgian to a halt. “Enos isn’t far behind me. Saw him coming up the highway from
the other direction as I turned down your road.”

“Glad to see you fellows, too,” Tom replied as he stepped up into the carriage with
the bishop from Morning Star. “Who could’ve guessed Hiram would disrupt Miriam and
Ben’s wedding? He’s set Willow Ridge on its ear—not to mention throwin’
my
life into a tailspin—now that we’ve excommunicated him.”

“Never seen the likes of it,” Jeremiah agreed. He drove down the snowy lane past Tom’s
house to park beside the barn. “I still feel God’s will was done, though. Hiram brought
this whole thing on himself when he didn’t make his confession. The rumors are flying
about that new town he’s starting up, too. What’s he calling it?”

“Higher Ground,” Tom replied with a snort. “But we’re pretty sure he’s got the lowest
of intentions, after his dubious ways of raisin’ the money for it. A real sorry situation,
this is.” He looked up to see Enos Mullet, the bishop from New Haven, turning his
buggy down the lane. “Vernon Gingerich is drivin’ in from Cedar Creek, too.”

“The four of us will figure things out. Wherever two or more gather in the Lord’s
name, He’ll be present.” Jeremiah gazed steadily at him as they paused in the dimness
of the barn. “I’ve prayed over this a lot, Tom, and I believe God’s ushering in a
new Heaven and a new Earth here in Willow Ridge. And He’s prepared you to handle whatever
comes along, my friend.”

Tom raised his eyebrows. As one of the two preachers in the Willow Ridge district,
he was a candidate to become its next bishop . . . a huge responsibility for a man
who milked a dairy herd twice a day. “Hope you’re right, Jeremiah. A lot of fine folks
are dependin’ on what we decide today.”

Tom walked out of the stable, noting the gray clouds that gathered in the distance.
When the approaching buggy stopped, the man who stepped down from it looked pale.
Enos Mullet seemed to get thinner every time Tom saw him, due to the chemo treatments
he was taking after a nasty bout of cancer. “Enos, it’s
gut
of ya to come,” he said as he shook the bishop’s bony hand. “You fellas will be glad
to hear the Hooley sisters have been helpin’ me get ready for ya. The kitchen smells
like they’re cookin’ up something mighty tasty for our dinner.”

“Well then, we certainly won’t starve!” Enos remarked. “Seems like they’ve fit themselves
right in amongst you folks. Nice addition to your town.”

“That they are.” Tom smiled to himself as they led Enos’s Morgan into a stall. He
didn’t let on to folks, but Nazareth Hooley had been a lot of company to him this
winter; it was just too bad she couldn’t become more than his friend. His wife Lettie
had divorced him last spring, and Old Order Amish couldn’t remarry until their former
spouses passed on.

But his spirits lightened as they stepped into a kitchen filled with the aromas of
the fresh pastries and cookies Nazareth and Jerusalem had baked early this morning.
As Jeremiah and Enos greeted the sisters and accepted hot coffee and treats, Tom was
glad he’d asked them to hostess for him today.

“Here comes Vernon,” he said, pointing toward the road out front. “And would ya look
at that sleigh he’s drivin’, too! You fellows make yourselves comfortable in the front
room, and we’ll be right in.”

What was it about a sleigh that made him feel like a kid again? Tom hurried outside
again, delighting in the merry jingle of the harness bells and the proud way Vernon’s
Percheron pulled the vehicle.

“Whoa there, Samson,” the bishop called out. “And
gut
morning to you, Tom! I’ve had a fine ride, even if those clouds make me think more
snow’s on the way.”

“
Jah
, I’m glad you’ve come to visit for a day or so. We’ll get right to our business so
the other two fellows can be safe on the roads.” Tom stroked the horse’s black neck,
grinning. “This is a fine old sleigh, Vernon. Brings to mind the one my
dat
got from his
dat
, back when we kids prayed for snow so we could ride in it.”

“This one’s of the same vintage. And thanks to our James Graber’s way with restoring
old vehicles, it’s a beauty again.” Vernon patted the cranberry velvet that covered
the high-backed seat. “Three of the best pleasures in this life are spirited horses,
fine rigs, and a
gut
woman— not necessarily in that order. Guess I’ll be happy with having two of the
three.”

Tom laughed. “
Jah
, that’s how we have to look at it sometimes.”

As they stabled Samson and then entered the warm kitchen, Tom felt better about their
morning’s mission: Vernon Gingerich was known for his down-to-earth faith and simple
wisdom, and his sense of humor made even the most difficult tasks easier to accomplish.

“My stars, I must’ve stepped into Heaven,” the bishop from Cedar Creek said as he
inhaled appreciatively. “Don’t tell me
you
baked the goodies on this sideboard, Tom!”

“The credit for that goes to Nazareth and Jerusalem Hooley,” Tom replied as he gestured
to each of the women. “Two more generous, kindhearted gals you’ll never find, Vernon.”

As the women greeted their final guest, Jeremiah and Enos replenished their plates
and made Vernon welcome, as well. It did Tom’s heart good to hear these voices filling
his kitchen, to feel the presence of friends who would put their faith and best intentions
to work today on behalf of Willow Ridge. Living alone this past year had taught him
to appreciate the company of those who had seen him through some rough months.

As Vernon chose from the array of treats, Tom closed his eyes over a pastry twist
that oozed butterscotch filling onto his tongue. When he looked up again, Nazareth
was beaming at him, pouring him a mug of coffee. “It’s going to be a
gut
morning for all of us, Tom,” she assured him. “If you fellows need anything at all,
we sisters’ll be right here in the kitchen.”

“
Denki
for all you’ve done,” he murmured. “Couldn’t ask for better help, or a better friend
than you, Naz.”

Her sweet smile made Tom wish the snow would pile up around the doors so they couldn’t
get out for days—after Enos and Jeremiah had gotten safely home, of course. But he
set such wishful thinking aside and led the way into the front room. It was time to
determine who would lead Willow Ridge into the New Year . . . into a future no one
but God could foresee.

 

 

“Have you ever seen blue eyes that twinkle the way Vernon’s do, Sister?” Jerusalem
whispered. She peered through the doorway at the four men who sat around the table
where Tom usually carved and painted his Nativity sets—except she and Nazareth had
cleared the wooden figures from it earlier today. Jerusalem ducked back into the kitchen
when the white-bearded bishop from Cedar Creek smiled at her.

Nazareth laughed softly. “Seems like a nice fellow, Vernon does. A far cry from the
sort of man Hiram Knepp turned out to be.”

“
Jah
, you’ve got that right. I’m thankful the
gut
Lord opened our eyes to his underhanded ways before I let myself get sucked in.”
Jerusalem stirred some barley into the pot of vegetable beef soup on the stove. Truth
be told, she had been attracted to Hiram Knepp from the moment she’d set foot in Willow
Ridge last fall—and he had taken to her right off, too. But as time went by, she’d
realized the bishop was more interested in having her keep track of his four younger
children than he was in hitching up with an outspoken
maidel
who’d become set in her ways . . .

Is it too late for me, Lord?
Jerusalem watched the emotions play across her sister’s face as she set places around
the kitchen table: it was no secret that Nazareth and Preacher Tom were sweet on each
other despite the fact that they couldn’t marry. Surely there must be a fellow who
would appreciate her own talents for cooking and keeping up a home . . . a man who
could tolerate her tendency to speak her mind and do things her way. Was it such a
sin to be competent and efficient enough that she’d never needed a husband?

“What do you suppose they’ll decide on today?” Nazareth asked as she took six soup
bowls from the cabinet. “What with Preacher Gabe havin’ poor Wilma to look after while
he’s gettin’ so frail himself—”

“
Jah
, I thought it was the wise thing for him to tell Tom, right out, that he couldn’t
handle bein’ the new bishop,” Jerusalem agreed. “That leaves Tom as the only real
choice, because I can’t see folks wantin’ a totally new fella from someplace else
to take over. Tom’s perfect for the job, too.”

Nazareth’s brows knit together. “It’s a lot to ask of a dairy farmer who’s got such
a big herd to milk, especially since his kids all live at a distance and he’s got
no wife. Some districts back East wouldn’t even consider a divorced man.”

“Everyone knows it’s not Tom’s doing that he’s alone.” Jerusalem held her sister’s
gaze for a moment. “Not that he’s really by himself, what with you helpin’ him every
chance you get.”

“Folks might frown on me spendin’ so much time here, after he’s ordained,” Nazareth
replied in a shaky voice. “Bishops are expected to walk a higher path. Can’t appear
to live outside the
Ordnung—
especially after the way Hiram went rotten on us.”

Jerusalem set down her long-handled spoon and placed her hands on her younger sister’s
shoulders. Nazareth was slender and soft-spoken; had chosen a brilliant green cape
dress that looked especially festive today. But her quivering chin told the real story.
“So you’re worried that if Tom’s to be the new bishop, he’ll have to forget his feelings
for you? I don’t see him doing that.”

“But—but we’re to devote ourselves to God first and foremost,” Nazareth reminded her.
“No matter what Tom and I feel for each other, we’re to follow the Old Ways. I’d begun
to believe that God had led me here from Lancaster to find him . . . to be his helpmate
someday. But now—”

Chairs scooted against the floor in the front room. The men’s louder talk made Jerusalem
embrace her sister quickly and then step away. “It’s in the Lord’s hands, Sister.
Let’s not worry these molehills into mountains before we see what comes of today’s
meeting.”

“
Jah
, you’re right.” Nazareth swiped at her eyes and began taking food from the fridge.
“I’m just being a silly old
maidel.
Until we came to Missouri, I’d been so certain God meant for me to be a teacher rather
than a wife, so maybe I’m just confused.”

Silly? Confused? Those were hardly words Jerusalem associated with her sweet, hardworking
sister, but she certainly understood Nazareth’s sentiments. She, too, had spent her
adult life believing she had a different mission from most Plain women. If Hiram hadn’t
upset her emotional apple cart, why, she would still be staunchly convinced that teaching—and
then coming to Willow Ridge with their three grown nephews—was what she was meant
to do. Now she had a bee in her bonnet and she buzzed with a restlessness she didn’t
know how to handle. And her longing wouldn’t disappear just because Hiram had.

As the four men entered the kitchen, however, Jerusalem set aside her worrisome thoughts.
“You fellas ready for some dinner? It’s nothing fancy, but we thought soup and hot
sandwiches would taste
gut
on a winter’s day.”

“Ah, but
fancy
isn’t our way, is it?” Jeremiah quipped. “You’ve had my mouth watering all morning.”

“The snow’s startin’ to blow, so we decided Enos and Jeremiah should be gettin’ on
the road as soon as we eat,” Tom said. “We’ve pretty much settled our business for
today.”

As the men took places around the table, Jerusalem opened the oven to remove the pan
of open-faced ham and cheese sandwiches, which looked like little pizzas. She had
picked right up on the fact that Tom hadn’t said Vernon was heading back. Although
Cedar Creek was a lot farther away than Morning Star or New Haven, he wore an unruffled
expression, as though driving home was the least of his concerns. Nazareth dipped
up big bowls of the steaming soup, chockful of vegetable chunks and beef, while Jerusalem
set butter and jelly alongside a basket of fresh whole-wheat rolls.

“Looks like a feast,” Enos said in his raspy voice.

Jerusalem took the empty chair across from her sister, wishing she could feed that
poor man enough to fill out all his hollows. They bowed in a silent prayer and then
Tom passed the platter in front of him. “You fellas are gettin’ a real treat here,”
he remarked. “Naz and Jerusalem made the cheese on these sandwiches from their goats’
milk.”

Vernon’s face lit up as he took two of them. “So those goats in the stable are yours?
They seem right at home among the horses.”

“Oh,
jah
,” Jerusalem replied, “goats and horses are natural companions. We brought those four
from Lancaster with us, well . . . as a gift to the bishop.” She paused, wishing she
hadn’t gone down this conversational path. “But when we informed Hiram we wouldn’t
be joining him in Higher Ground, we took them back.”

“And Preacher Tom’s been kind enough to let us keep them here,” Nazareth continued.
“Our does will be havin’ kids this spring, and we couldn’t take the chance that they’d
not be properly tended.”