Autumn Winds (5 page)

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Authors: Charlotte Hubbard

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

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As she took the towels off the pans of rounded, golden dinner rolls, something made her glance into the dining room. How was it that Ben Hooley stood up, right then? And lo and behold, he winked at her!
Chapter 5
Sunday morning, Miriam sat on the wooden pew between her sister Leah and Reuben’s wife, Esther. Was it her imagination, or did Preacher Tom seem windier than usual during the first sermon?
Lord, Ya know why I’m so wiggly today and I hope You’ll forgive my foolish ways.
She tried to focus on Tom Hostetler’s message about steadfast love for God and family, because she truly admired him for taking on such a topic. His wife, Lettie, had left him for a fancy man last spring. He’d been a dear friend since before her Jesse had passed. But truth be told, the dairy farmer wandered along his sermon’s paths like a cow that had strayed through a hole in the fence: still eating grass, as was its intention, but not too clear about where it was going or where it wanted to end up.
So she gazed at the back of Lydia Zook’s black
fer-gut
dress . . .
and maybe, Lord, You’ll help me find a way to suggest—nicely—that she should be cuttin’ her seams about an inch wider on each side.
And wasn’t
that
a judgmental thought? It wasn’t as though she was getting any thinner as the years passed, either. Sighing, Miriam straightened her spine, willing her stomach not to rumble . . .
Ben Hooley sat directly across from her on the men’s side. And he was looking between Matthias Wagler’s dark brown mane and Seth Brenneman’s haystack of blond hair, right at her!
Miriam sucked in her breath, and then met her sister’s glance straight-on to keep Leah from asking too many questions about her lack of attention to the service. She let her gaze wander back . . . and yes, the handsome Ben Hooley was still focused on her as though he’d chosen that exact spot on that very bench so he’d have a way to study her without anyone being the wiser. His light brown hair looked clean and shiny, combed slightly back over his ears instead of looking like he’d used a mixing bowl and dull scissors to trim it, like some of their men.
And who cuts his hair for him? Where did he stay last night? How did the rest of his day go after he left the café yesterday?
She’d last seen him midmorning yesterday, rolling onto the county road, Pharaoh hauling his big red farrier wagon—with at least two weeks’ worth of blacksmithing to do in Willow Ridge. It was a testament to Ben’s easygoing smile and willingness to accommodate the local men’s schedules that he’d found such easy favor with them . . .
Or had he lined up all that work so he could stick around town for a while, maybe to call on
her
?
Miriam shifted on the bench, daring to meet Ben’s gaze again, for a little longer this time, knowing full well such distracting games had no place in a preaching service.
She thought back to yesterday’s storm and the way this man had appeared out of nowhere . . . hadn’t said much about who he was or where he was from, much less about why he’d never settled into a Plain community with his own shop. Or a wife.
And does he have a bruise the shape of a huge horseshoe on his chest? Did he get hurt worse than he was lettin’ on?
The thought of peeling back his clean white shirt to check for blood blisters or places where the skin had broken made Miriam squirm before she could catch herself. Too long she’d gone without a man’s presence, a man’s company—
And those are the last thoughts ya should be thinkin’ right now!
Everyone shifted into place, kneeling on the floor for prayer. Miriam swore she felt Ben peering at her over the other bowed heads. Did she dare peek over at the men’s side?
Leah elbowed her. Miriam tried with all her might to focus on more godly thoughts. And as though Bishop Knepp knew her weakness today, his sermon lit into a forceful interpretation of the twenty-sixth verse in Matthew 16, about what a man profited if he gained the whole world but lost his soul. Hiram’s sermon left no room for doubt: those who walked the wayward path of worldly pleasure and success lost all chance at salvation.
Has Ben been baptized into the faith? Or is he just driftin’ from town to town with work that will always be in demand?
Again Miriam let her gaze wander . . . Ben had his head bowed as though he might be praying for serious help. His face was tight. And why would that be? Why did Ben Hooley seem so friendly with all the fellows at breakfast, yet study Hiram Knepp as though . . . as though he didn’t trust him?
But that was a silly idea, wasn’t it? Bishops were chosen by lot because God had already decided who should be a community’s leader in the faith. Even Plain folks from other settlements would understand that and show Hiram the respect they felt for their own districts’ bishops. Maybe she was reading her own history with Hiram into the look she saw on this new fellow’s face.
Lord, if I can ease Ben’s doubts—set aside my own judgment—lead me along the way You’d have me go. It’s for sure and for certain Rhoda and Hiram and maybe other folks won’t see any
gut
comin’ of my acceptin’ Ben’s attentions.
At last the service came to an end, and a welcome thing it was that no one had any confessing to do or any business to bring before the district in a members’ meeting. Lydia Zook, their hostess for the day, popped up from her place before anyone left the basement.
“Let me be the first to wish ya a happy birthday, Bishop!” she sang out. “We’ve been plannin’ a little somethin’ special for the common meal today, on account of how we appreciate your leadin’ us along the upward way. So if you men’ll scoot along outside, we’ll be settin’ out the plates and the food.”
Miriam chuckled and placed her hand on Lydia’s shoulder. “
Gut
for you, herdin’ the fellas out so’s we can get things goin’. I saw baskets of fine fare in your kitchen, so it’s gonna be a tasty afternoon!”
“And the perfect day for eatin’ outdoors and visitin’ afterwards, too. We’re not likely to have many more Sundays like this before winter kicks in,” she replied. Then, as the other women filed out of the benches around them, Lydia leaned toward her. “And what’s this I hear about that Hooley fella gettin’ kicked by his horse, yet still fixin’ your café window? He stopped by the market yesterday afternoon for some cold cuts and bread,” she confided in a low voice. “Said he’d been to Reuben Reihl’s, and then out to Preacher Tom’s repairin’ machinery, and that he was on his way to the bishop’s tomorrow—buyin’ food as though those two men without women weren’t gonna provide him any meals.”
“He ate a couple of heaped-up plates at the café yesterday mornin’ and we were pleased to feed him, too,” Miriam confirmed. “There wasn’t any way the girls and I could’ve moved that big limb, never mind fixin’ the window.”
Miriam bustled upstairs to Lydia’s kitchen with the other women and began cutting her pumpkin pies as well as apple, cherry, and rhubarb pies other women had brought. Tom Hostetler stuck his head into the kitchen with a grin. “I stashed a nice supply of homemade ice cream in your deep freeze at the store, Lydia. Come time folks’re ready for dessert, I’ll fetch it for ya.”
“
Denki
, Tom!”
“
Jah
, your cows’ milk makes the best ice cream, Preacher!”
The outdoor common meal began with a silent prayer. Because Amish women weren’t to cook or work on the Lord’s day, the congregation usually ate sandwiches, pies, and foods that were prepared the day before. Miriam smiled when her Rachel set out platters of sliced meat loaf she’d made herself, along with cheese and fresh oatmeal bread, sliced thick. Her sweetheart, Micah, was no fool; he claimed a seat within reach of that platter of meat loaf—and then looked through the crowd that milled around among the trees.
“Ben, you’ve gotta sit with us!” he said, waving the farrier over from the cluster of older fellows he’d been visiting with. “I want to talk to ya about some ornamental metal work at a historical place we’re rehabbin’. How are ya with garden gates and wrought iron balconies?”
“
Jah
, I do that.”
Ben headed for the seat Micah had saved for him, yet he looked—until he found Miriam. He grinned apologetically at her, as though he was sorry so many fellows had already crowded around to sit at his table.
See ya later?
he mouthed, his eyes wide in a question.
Miriam’s heart skipped in double time. She nodded happily and then turned toward a table where Leah and her mother-in-law, Essie Kanagy, sat alongside Naomi and her daughter, Hannah, with Rachel and Rhoda. Was it silly to feel lighthearted because Ben had asked to see her later? As Miriam took a seat among the women and girls who’d gotten her through a couple of tough years as a widow, she felt their curiosity . . . their speculative thoughts . . . not to mention some resentment on Rhoda’s part. No doubt her daughter had seen the way the handsome stranger had gawked at her during church.
And the best way to handle everybody’s assumptions is to hold your head up and be who ya are. It’s not like you’ve done one thing wrong. And it’s not like you’ve got to explain anythin’ to anybody.
Miriam smiled sweetly as she reached for the platter of sandwiches in front of her. “Do ya think the bishop had any notion of his birthday surprise before Lydia announced it? He didn’t give any hint of it during the service.”
Essie Kanagy, well into her eighties, stabbed a slice of cold country ham. “It’s not our way to go celebratin’ such things, if ya ask me. Not just because it’s callin’ attention to one person above the rest, but because Bishop Knepp does a perty fine job of doin’ that for hisself.”
Rachel and Hannah snickered, while the older women around them bit back grins. “It’s a
gut
excuse to eat some of Miriam’s fancy bakery cake, though,” Leah remarked. She often tried to steer her mother-in-law’s crabby remarks toward something happier. “What flavors did ya make, Sister?”
“I baked the bishop’s cake from my favorite coconut cake recipe, and there’s fudge ripple pound cakes and strawberry cream cakes, too—Rhoda and Rachel’s favorites, those are,” Miriam replied. “The chocolate and strawberry ones started from a box mix, but you’d never know it after I doctored them up.”
She looked at Essie then, nodding in agreement. “It was Lydia’s idea to celebrate the bishop’s birthday because the service was here at her place, or I wouldn’t have made cake for more than a hundred people.”
No sense in givin’ Hiram the idea I was seekin’ his approval and attention
, she added silently.
I’d make him birthday cakes until Kingdom Come if he’d leave me be.
A few moments later, their hostess clanged a spoon against a glass water pitcher. Speaking above the crowd, she said, “While we’re all still at the table, I thought we’d share a little surprise—a way of showin’ our appreciation to Bishop Hiram for his
gut
work and guidance—and his fifty-fifth birthday today! We’ve got special birthday cake for dessert, and here comes Preacher Tom with the ice cream he’s made, too!”
Faces all around them brightened. Josh and Joey Knepp, Hiram’s five-year-old twins, ran down the lane to pull Tom Hostetler’s cart so they could have their ice cream faster. Applause erupted when Lydia came out with a round triple-layer cake studded with candles, decorated in white cream-cheese frosting. By the time she took a match from the box, little Sara and Timmy Knepp had squirmed away from Annie Mae to race up front where their
dat
was now standing.
“Don’t be lightin’ all of those candles or we’ll have to call the fire truck!” one of the fellows called out.
Laughter erupted around them as Hiram smiled. The bishop was no doubt thinking up an appropriate response to this surprise; while the
Ordnung
said he wasn’t to encourage such celebrations, he seemed pleased that Lydia and Henry Zook had honored him. As Lydia was lighting the last candles, Sara Knepp chirped, “Don’t forget to make your wish, Dat!” Timmy, barely three, squawked and raised his arms to be picked up so he could see what was going on.
Hiram glanced impatiently at his youngest children and then glared at his eldest daughter, Annie Mae. The slender girl slipped up to grab the children by the hands.
“This is indeed a surprise,” the bishop said as he stood before his cake with its flaming candles. “It’s my privilege to serve as your bishop, and to do the work God has called me to, here in Willow Ridge. It’s also a fine time to express a wish before all of you, so you’ll know my intentions are sincere and . . . visible, rather than hidden.”
When Hiram looked around the tables until he found her in the crowd, Miriam swallowed hard.
“Miriam Lantz, I confess before God and the People that I love you—and that it’s my sincerest wish you’ll be my wife.”
Gasps sounded around her, and Miriam’s face went hot. This was even worse than she’d feared! Hiram kept gazing at her, too, as though he expected her answer right then and there.
“Mamma, ya don’t have to say a thing,” Rachel rasped.
Across from her, Naomi leaned forward. “If that don’t beat all!” she muttered beneath the crowd’s chatter. “Tryin’ to embarrass ya into sayin’ yes, he is!”
“
Jah
, he couldn’t buy our buildin’ so he’s trappin’ ya this way,” Rhoda blurted.
Miriam clasped her hands in her lap, her head bowed to avoid Hiram’s gaze.
Dear Lord, I’m askin’ for a graceful way out of this—or just grace to behave the way You’d want me to. This has to be the most humiliatin’ . . .

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