Autumn Winds (28 page)

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Authors: Charlotte Hubbard

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

BOOK: Autumn Winds
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“‘For whom the Lord loveth He chasteneth, and scourgeth every son whom He receiveth. If ye endure chastening, God dealeth with you as with sons; for what son is he whom the father chasteneth not?’” Reuben paused, knowing what came next. “‘But if ye be without chastisement, whereof all are partakers, then are ye bastards and not sons.’”
Miriam glanced up to watch Hiram’s reaction to this passage. He sat straight and tall, yet his face seemed paler. Had the past week of keeping to himself given him time to reflect and repent? Or had he searched the Scriptures and found justification for hiding that car? After the way he’d caught her unawares in the Sweet Seasons kitchen this morning, she wasn’t sure what to expect.
Beside Hiram, Gabe Glick slumped with his head bowed. Miriam’s heart went out to him; with Wilma still in the hospital, the poor old fellow was surely wishing he were there with her. Faithful to a fault, he was; he’d served as a preacher in Willow Ridge since before Miriam had arrived as Jesse’s bride.
“‘Furthermore we have had fathers of our flesh which corrected us and we gave them reverence,’” Reuben continued reading. “‘Shall we not much rather be in subjection unto the Father of spirits, and live?’”
The deacon read several more verses, slowing his delivery as he reached the end of the twelfth chapter. “‘Wherefore we receivin’ a kingdom which cannot be moved, let us have grace, whereby we may serve God acceptably with reverence and godly fear. For our God is a consumin’ fire.’”
After presenting that grim image for their consideration, Reuben resumed his seat. Then Bishop Shetler from Morning Star stood up. He was a man they saw in the café occasionally. Jesse had known Jeremiah Shetler before he’d become that district’s bishop, because Jesse had done a lot of farrier work on the Shetler place. Somewhat younger than Hiram, Jeremiah had a reputation for more lenience when it came to folks installing phones and electricity in their businesses.
Yet when Bishop Shetler glanced at Hiram before beginning the main sermon, there was no mistaking the message he was about to deliver. “‘All we like sheep have gone astray,’” he began in a thundering voice. “‘We have turned every one to his own way; and the Lord hath laid on Him the iniquity of us all.’ Because this familiar verse from the fifty-third chapter of Isaiah reminds us that none are perfect—and because, as Deacon Reihl read, ‘our God is a consuming fire,’ it’s our job to recognize each other’s sins when we ourselves are unable—or unwilling—to acknowledge them. This is a cornerstone of our Old Order faith, and it keeps us strong.”
For the next hour he preached on the importance of recognizing worldly sin and the necessity of repentance. Jeremiah spoke without apology or any indulgence for a man who had been chosen by God for the highest level of service. Hiram’s name wasn’t mentioned, but everyone knew he was the main object of this lesson.
Miriam recalled her own kneeling confession in August, after her daughter Rebecca’s reappearance in black mascara and tattoos had caused such an uproar. Hiram had insisted her café business was making her too proud, too worldly. The days leading up to her time of trial had been among the most difficult she had endured since Jesse’s passing. She prayed that Hiram would have the grace to face the day’s inquisition, just as she had. She truly believed that everything had worked out according to God’s will—which was why Hiram didn’t own the building that housed her business and the Schrocks’ quilt shop.
When Jeremiah’s sermon ended, they fell to their knees again as Reuben read a prayer, and then they stood for the benediction and the closing hymn.
Again Bishop Shetler rose. “We call to order a members’ meeting for the purpose of discussing and acting upon Hiram Knepp’s ownership of a car,” Jeremiah said in a solemn voice. “Those who are not baptized members of the faith are excused.”
Annie Mae and Nellie Knepp rose, their younger siblings in hand, as did Ira Hooley and other young folks still in their
rumspringa
. Miriam felt sorry for the bishop’s girls, for they would bear the brunt of a shunning if the members voted for that as their
dat
’s punishment.
“After much consultation with Enos Mullet and me, Hiram has agreed to come before you, his congregation, for a kneeling confession. Enos and I were disappointed, however, that he didn’t arrive at this decision of his own free will. Your preachers, Tom and Gabe, brought this matter to our attention to ensure it wouldn’t slide by.”
“Some folks here might not be aware that Hiram came to us earlier,” Enos Mullet said as he stood up. Because he had struggled with cancer the past few years, his hollow cheeks and lined face looked as forbidding as the Reaper’s. “At that time, he confessed to having a photograph of himself on his website, where he advertises his Belgians. Again, sadly, this admission of worldliness came after someone else saw the likeness of him and challenged him about it.”
Several in the crowd looked at each other as though this was indeed the first time they’d heard of Hiram’s earlier escapade.
“It’s only right that you take these things into consideration as you listen to your bishop’s confession and cast your vote as to his penance.” Enos turned to look at Hiram. “Are you ready to confess, Hiram?”
With his hands clasped before him, Hiram rose from the bench. His gaze swept the men’s side of the room and then the women’s, beseeching his longtime friends to be merciful. When he held Miriam’s gaze, she kept all expression from her face. He went to his knees then, facing the two bishops.
“Is it true you own an automobile, Hiram?” Jeremiah asked in his sonorous voice. “And is it true that you concealed it, believing no one would be the wiser?”
“Yes.”
The two visiting bishops waited, probably for more of a response. Then Enos cleared his throat. “Would you tell us how you came by this vehicle? A customized Cadillac convertible isn’t something the average fellow would have parked in his garage. We need to know why an Amish bishop would own one.”
Hiram’s face went ruddy with suppressed temper. “I sold a registered Belgian stallion to a man in Michigan and he defaulted on his payment,” he explained impatiently. “To make matters worse, when I tried to collect the debt, he had already sold the horse. He offered the car for the balance of his payment, and because I suspected this was the only form of remuneration I would receive, I took it.”
Miriam pressed her lips into a line. Hiram often used lofty vocabulary when he was talking his way out of a sticky situation.
Jeremiah Shetler’s dark eyebrows rose. “And you’ve kept it locked away all these months? But you’ve also driven it?”
“Yes.”
When a few shocked folks sucked in their breath, Hiram looked up. Judging from the scowls Miriam observed on the men’s side of the room, the women probably looked no happier to hear that their leader had not only accepted a car, but had concealed it and taken it out on the roads.
Hiram gazed at her, assessing her allegiance. Miriam gazed back; she didn’t condone his mistakes, and she wouldn’t fall prey to insinuations that he would hinder the building of the mill. She couldn’t imagine that Jerusalem Hooley, seated a row ahead of her, wore an expression that looked any more lenient or loving.
Hiram licked his lips, as though finally realizing his friends might vote to shun him. “I . . . I want to beg forgiveness of my congregation—my extended family,” he proceeded in a contrite voice. “I now see that I am guilty of the worldliness for which I disciplined Miriam Lantz several weeks ago. I also wish to apologize to Miriam for the way I have so publicly pursued her and badgered her about marrying me.
“And on a similar subject,” Hiram went on before the other bishops could interrupt him, “I wish to apologize to Ben Hooley for my attitude concerning his coming to Willow Ridge . . . and for threatening retribution if he established himself here—with Miriam at his side.”
The women around Miriam stole glances at her, and she sighed. She sensed the bishop was voicing his apologies just to sway the vote on his punishment. Wasn’t that a shame?
“I also wish to apologize to Tom and Gabe for my arrogance these past couple of weeks. They were doing their duty to God by confronting me about my website photograph and the car I’ve concealed,” he went on in a voice that wavered. “My Mennonite stable manager, Jason Schwartz, has driven the car to his home, so I’m no longer in possession of it. The driver’s license I’ve surrendered is in the glove compartment.”
Whispers hissed around the room; a lot of Amish fellows had driven a car during their
rumspringa
, but having a Missouri license meant Hiram had posed for the mandatory photograph on it. Was there no end to the secrets he’d kept?
“Most of all, I owe apologies to my daughters Annie Mae and Nellie for the way I have so often chastised them when the younger children have misbehaved,” he went on. “And I wish to express my sincerest thanks to Jerusalem Hooley for showing me how I’ve distanced myself from my children. She has insisted I remain at home with them more often, to be a mainstay in their lives rather than a father who places other concerns before the raising of his family.”
He went silent then, still kneeling before the two other bishops, his deacon, and the preachers.
“Have you anything else you wish to confess to us, Brother Hiram?” Enos asked in his reedy voice.
“Are you insinuating there’s more?” Hiram blurted. Then he let out a sigh. “Excuse my cavalier attitude. I’m starting to realize how deeply ingrained my temper and lack of humility have become. I beg everyone’s forgiveness and patience as I find my way back to rightness with God.”
“So be it.” Jeremiah Shetler stepped back, allowing Hiram to rise to his feet. “You may now wait in Preacher Tom’s cellar or the mud room—or outdoors—until you’re called back in.”
All eyes watched Hiram Knepp leave the crowded room. The door from the kitchen to the mud room closed with a decisive
whump
before anyone dared breathe or whisper to each other.
Jeremiah’s shoulders relaxed. He looked at everyone as he spoke. “Enos and I have discussed this situation several times in the past week. We feel the
Ordnung
clearly recommends a six-week shunning for owning a car—especially because this sin follows on the coattails of Hiram’s having a photograph on his website. Enos and I will share your bishop’s duties between us during his time of contemplation and separation. Is there any discussion?”
Tom Hostetler rose, his expression grim. “Gabe here won’t mention it, but with his Wilma so ill, he’s concerned he won’t be around town much to help with any church matters that might arise. And, frankly, he doesn’t feel much like preachin’ these days,” Tom added. “He’s also concerned about the hospital bill that’s mountin’ up, to the point he’s sold off a part of his farm to pay it.”
Miriam gasped, as did everyone around her. Because most of Willow Ridge’s property had been in the same Plain families for generations, it was highly unusual for a man to sell off land rather than pass it on to a son. Poor Gabe looked exhausted from sitting here these past few hours, and he was clearly uncomfortable about having his private affairs discussed.
Enos nodded. “Jeremiah and I will take turns with the preaching, Tom. You won’t bear the burden of Hiram’s absence alone. And we’ll find some help with that money Gabe needs, too. I suggest your scribe for the
Budget
post a request for a money shower.”
After a few moments of silence, Miriam felt compelled to stand up. “While shunnin’ Hiram is the proper thing to do, it also puts his family in a bad way,” she remarked. “To his credit, he’s been spendin’ more time with his four younger ones, but now he can’t eat at their table. And they’re not to accept anythin’ from him—a difficult concept for little children to understand, especially since they have no
mamm
.”
In front of her, Jerusalem Hooley rose, as well. “My sister Nazareth and I have discussed this issue, and—if Hiram’s willin’—we can stay at his place to help Annie Mae with the youngsters while Nellie finishes school.”
Ben’s aunt cleared her throat, as though thinking about how to express the rest of her thoughts. “I feel bad that our adventurous little goats led to all this disruption of Hiram’s life, but we Amish believe that followin’ the
Ordnung
keeps us strong in our faith—and in our families, too.”
“Are there any other concerns?” Bishop Shetler asked.
Ben stood up then, smiling at Gabe Glick before he began. “We knew a fella in Lancaster who got caught with a car, and when he sold it, he donated the money to the district’s medical emergency fund,” he said. “It’s not my place to decide that, of course. But we all know a fella who could use the cash a fancy car like Hiram’s might bring.”
“Point well-taken.” Enos Mullet looked around the crowded room then. “Are we ready to vote?
Aye
means Hiram Knepp is to be placed under a six-week shunning, which will last until the middle of December.
Nay
means we must discuss other options—and in a situation that affects everyone in Willow Ridge, I feel we must have a unanimous decision. Is that agreed?”
Everyone nodded. Most clasped their hands tightly in their laps, awaiting the final outcome.
Wilbert Reihl, the oldest male among them, began the reckoning. “Aye,” he said heavily. And on down the pew rows it went, as every man—and then every woman—agreed that Hiram should be shunned. No one sounded happy about it, but this, too, was one of the duties of membership: to ensure justice and conformity to the code of ethics they had agreed to uphold when they’d been baptized into the faith.

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