Christmas at Promise Lodge (3 page)

“
Jah
, your brother and the bride probably are wondering what's happened to you.”
Not to mention Gloria
, Mary Kate thought with a smile.

“I guarantee you that Noah and Deborah aren't thinking about me,” Roman teased. “You did miss a pretty provocative wedding sermon, though. Your
dat
told my
mamm
and aunts, along with Amos and Preacher Marlin—by name—that they were to be married before the snow flies and that he'd allow no marrying of Amish to Mennonites. He also preached that the women's only business should be keeping house for their families.”

Her jaw dropped. “He really said those things? In front of so many people?” she whispered. “
That's
not going to go over with Rosetta or your
mamm
or—”

“Preacher Amos was gripping the bench so hard, I thought he might crack it in half. Preacher Marlin looked ready to stand up and leave—and Truman Wickey was as mad as I've ever seen him.” Roman shook his head as he rose from the swing. “I'm sure we've not heard the last of this. After all, who's to run the produce stand or manage the lodge apartments if my mother and aunt aren't allowed? I can't see them handing over those businesses to men—even their husbands—after they've poured themselves into making a go of it here.”

Mary Kate sighed loudly. “My
dat
believes women should know their place and stay there, without making any fuss,” she murmured. “I don't see why he's so old-fashioned about stuff like that, when other Amish settlements allow women to work from their homes—which is what your
mamm
and Rosetta are doing. And anyone can see that Truman and Rosetta are meant for each other.”

“It'll all work out, somehow.” Roman gazed at her. Although he stood nearly six feet tall and had a sturdy, muscled body, he didn't give the impression of looking down at her, or of intending to keep her in his shadow or under his thumb. The slow smile that overtook his face appeared open and sincere—not a sign of derision or pity. “You take care, Mary Kate. It was nice visiting with you.”

As Roman strolled down the road leading back to the lodge, Mary Kate wanted to clap her hands and whoop and dance. Never in her wildest dreams had she anticipated a visit from a good-looking guy after she'd resigned herself to spending the day with her cats. Her smile grew even wider when she realized how upset Gloria would be when she found out why Roman had left the wedding dinner.

It wasn't that she wished her sister ill. For the first time, Mary Kate had enjoyed the attention of a very eligible, upstanding young man who'd escaped pretty, vivacious, accomplished Gloria to spend time with
her
. That would never have happened back in Sugarcreek, where her sister went out quite often while Mary Kate hadn't been out on a single date. Ever. To the young men there she'd apparently been invisible, yet when Roman Schwartz had looked her over moments ago, she'd felt a connection.

She'd felt pretty.
Happy.

If God had led her father here to become the bishop of Promise Lodge, maybe He had some plans for her, as well. Maybe this new settlement in rural Missouri held more promise than she'd thought.

Chapter Three

“Mattie, we've excused you from kitchen duty today,” Beulah Kuhn insisted as she playfully swished her apron to usher Mattie toward the dining room.

“
Jah
, I figured you and Preacher Amos would be enjoying the meal—and maybe the whole afternoon—together,” Frances Lehman joined in. “We've got plenty of help here, so—”

When Frances's smile fell, Mattie realized how fierce her facial expression must be. She inhaled deeply, reminding herself that Frances and the Kuhn sisters had graciously agreed to oversee the final preparations of the meal rather than attend the wedding, so they weren't yet aware of Bishop Floyd's decrees.

“You'd better put me to work washing dishes or filling plates or
something
,” Mattie murmured as a movement at the doorway caught her attention. Rosetta and Christine were entering the kitchen with the same idea, it appeared—wearing expressions that suggested they'd tasted lemon pie made without any sugar. “Busy hands might be happy hands,” Mattie continued, “but—”

“
My
hands feel like wringing somebody's neck,” Rosetta muttered. She grabbed a flour-sack towel and began drying the big metal pots Ruby had scrubbed.

“And just who am I supposed to hitch up with in the next few weeks?” Christine demanded in a low voice. “If that wasn't the most preposterous, inappropriate—”

Mattie slung her arm around her sister before her rant went any further. “Keep in mind that our friends here have been cooking, so they don't know about Bishop Floyd's sermon. Frances shouldn't bear the brunt of our hissy fit, because she's not responsible for what comes out of her husband's mouth.”

Frances's expression tightened, while the Kuhn sisters came over to huddle with Mattie, Christine, and the bishop's wife. Mattie understood perfectly why Rosetta remained beside the sink, wiping a big metal stockpot as though she intended to remove the burnt-on grime that dated back to when the lodge was a church camp.

“Oh dear,” Frances murmured. “Something tells me Floyd went beyond his usual spiel about women knowing their place.”

Christine exhaled, crossing her arms over her apron. “Can you imagine how we sisters felt when the bishop called us by name—along with Preacher Amos and Preacher Marlin—”

“And informed us we were all to be married before the first snowfall?” Mattie continued in a hoarse whisper.

“Just who does he think I'm to marry?” Christine's voice cracked and she looked ready to cry. “Marlin Kurtz hasn't been here but a couple of months—not that he seems any more inclined toward hitching up with me than I am with him.”

“And where does it leave me if Bishop Floyd's forbidding me to marry Truman because he's a Mennonite?” Rosetta blurted. She set her pot on a metal table with a
clank
that echoed in the kitchen. “I've known all along that he feels that way, and I've had many a conversation with God about the consequences of leaving my Amish faith to become Truman's wife, but—it's just the
nerve
of that man! Calling us out in front of a roomful of wedding guests!”

Frances covered her face with her hand. “Oh my. I had no idea he'd go so far as to humiliate you that way.”

“What'd he say about Ruby and me?” Beulah muttered. “If he thinks we two
maidels
intend to get married at this late date—”

“Not to worry, Sister,” Ruby said as she patted Beulah's arm. “This new colony welcomes all manner of Plain folks, but we who are Mennonite rather than Amish don't answer to Floyd, remember.”

“I'm afraid my husband's as hardheaded as he is hard of hearing,” Frances murmured. “I suppose he also preached that women shouldn't be running businesses—even though that has little to do with Noah and Deborah getting married.”

“
Jah
, we heard that sermon again,” Mattie replied. She suddenly felt very tired, unwilling to carry this conversation any further. “Now that I've let off some steam, I want to find Amos. I could tell by the look on his face that he was no happier about Floyd's ultimatum than we women were.”

Mattie smoothed her apron, hoping her bad mood would dissipate as she stepped into the doorway of the dining room. What a sight it was! The long tables covered in white cloths gave the large hall a simple elegance. Every seat was filled with friends and family members who visited happily as they ate their meal. The aromas of baked chicken, stuffing, and warm bread soothed her as she gazed from table to table, trying to locate Amos. She hoped he hadn't given up on her. He'd be disappointed if she didn't join him for dinner.

Her gaze lingered on the raised
eck
table, where her younger son sat with his new bride. The sight of them sitting so close, lost in each other's gazes, made Mattie's heart overflow with a special love.
It's their happiness that matters
, she reminded herself.
They're the future of Promise Lodge no matter how things work out—or don't—with Floyd Lehman.

Mattie wondered why Roman was returning to his place at the wedding party's table with a secretive smile, appearing slightly out of breath. He waved off Noah's teasing question, squeezing his younger brother's shoulder as he sat down beside Laura Hershberger—his cousin and Deborah's closest friend. What a blessing that her boys were so close, and that they remained so connected to Christine's girls, as well. Once again, as she gazed at their earnest faces, she wondered how those four kids—and Deborah—had reached young adulthood already.

If your sons are twenty-four and twenty-one, there's no denying how old that makes you,
Mattie realized wistfully.
Maybe Amos has it right. Maybe you should accept his proposal, for who knows how long he'll keep asking a middle-aged widow to make her home with him? Roman's building a house now, so he'll have a home to offer the right young woman when she comes along. Do you want to grow old alone?

Another quick look around the crowded room convinced Mattie that Amos wasn't seated yet—and that was just as well. As soon as these guests finished eating, the serving crew would clear the dirty dishes and set up for a second, smaller shift for the kitchen helpers and the remaining guests and family members who'd waited patiently to enjoy their dinner.

Mattie felt calmer as she made her way to the
eck
table. The bride and groom sat in the center, and behind them rose a white cake decorated in pale blue, displayed on the glass cake plate Mattie had used when she'd married Marvin Schwartz—an idea Beulah and Ruby had suggested after they'd baked and decorated the cake together.

“It's
gut
to see all you kids enjoying this wonderful day,” Mattie murmured as she reached for Noah and Deborah's hands. “And I wish you two a lifetime of God's blessings as you begin your life together.”

Deborah grabbed Mattie's hand between both of hers and squeezed it. “We can't thank you and Amos enough for our plot of land, and for building us a beautiful home,” she replied earnestly. She leaned farther over the table, lowering her voice. “And I hope you and your sisters and Amos can work out a solution—a sensible peace—about running your businesses and marrying in God's
gut
time rather than in Bishop Floyd's.”

A sensible peace . . . in God's
gut
time rather than Bishop Floyd's
. Was that too much to hope for? Too much to ask of God, the father of them all?

“
Denki
, Deborah. That's a lovely idea,” Mattie murmured. She felt blessed indeed, witnessing the mature, sincere faith reflected in all the young faces at this table. “Our mission as God's Plain people is always to attain the peace He desires for us—in our relationship with Him, and amongst ourselves, as well.”

“We'll put in a
gut
word for Truman when we pray about this situation,” Phoebe said as she patted the empty spot beside her at the end of the table. “He apologized for not sitting up here with us, and for getting riled up about the wedding sermon. I hope he'll spend some time with Rosetta today—”

“
Jah
, I was honored that he served as my side-sitter,” Noah chimed in. “He's a bit older, as
newehockers
go—and he has a lot to think about now that our bishop's spoken out against intermarriage again.”

“I hope Truman won't think we no longer value his friendship—or that we don't appreciate all the ways he's helped with digging foundations, pouring concrete for our roads, and helping us restore the orchard,” Roman said as he picked up his fork. The food on the plate the servers had brought him a while ago had gone cold, but he didn't seem to mind. “Fact is, we'd still be struggling to build Noah's house, not to mention the others that have gone up so fast, had Truman not brought his crew and equipment over to help us.”

“He's the best sort of neighbor and a fine friend,” Mattie agreed. “I'll pass along your words of thanks when I see him. He needs to know that Floyd doesn't speak for the rest of us.”

And that's a sad thing—a dangerous thing—to say about the bishop of our new colony
, Mattie realized as she made her way toward the door. Her spirits lifted as she passed the tables where friends from Coldstream voiced their congratulations about the wedding and the way Promise Lodge had come together so quickly and beautifully. A few of those folks appeared ready to quiz her about Bishop Floyd's marriage ultimatum, so Mattie kept moving between the tables, determined to find Amos. If her former neighbors asked about their bishop, who claimed God had led him from Ohio to their new Missouri colony to be their leader, what could she say? Only the Lord knew Floyd Lehman's true motives. It wasn't her place to question the bishop's sincerity—or God's plan.

When Mattie stepped out of the dining room's back door, leaving the laughter and loud chatter behind her, she savored the serenity of the sun-dappled shade. The huge old maple trees were dropping their leaves, so the grassy yard resembled a green quilt with a freestyle design in brilliant shades of red, gold, and orange. The breeze held a hint of winter, reminding Mattie that she'd soon be wearing her coat every time she stepped outside.

The row of brown cabins, which had served as temporary homes for incoming residents, would be closed up in a few weeks because they didn't have any heat. Amos, Noah, and Deborah had devoted a lot of time to refurbishing those cottages over the summer. Preacher Marlin Kurtz and his kids, Fannie and Lowell, fourteen and twelve, were now living in the largest cabin while Marlin's son and daughter-in-law, Harley and Minerva, were staying in another one—all of them awaiting the completion of a roomy new home on the double lot atop the nearest hill.

Mattie was pleased that the Kurtz family had joined them, because Preacher Marlin, a widower in his fifties, delivered salt-of-the-earth, thought-provoking sermons as only a man acquainted with the highs and lows of life could do. Marlin had asked the construction crew to finish his shop first—he built all sorts of wooden rain barrels, barrel furniture, and buckets that he sold through regional stores and a mail-order catalog. His daughter-in-law, Minerva, was a midwife—a welcome addition to any Plain settlement—and Harley's herd of sheep already grazed the grassy hills he'd fenced off last month.

When Mattie glanced toward the pastures, she saw Queenie lying at the top of a hill, keeping watch over the flock as though the sheep were her special responsibility. Mattie was about to head across the lawn to see if Amos had gone home when male voices made her stop to listen.

“. . . you've pretty much guaranteed that Mattie won't marry me now, provoking her with your sermon ultimatum.”

“I spoke the words God gave me.
Family
is everything in our faith—as you well know, Amos,” came Bishop Floyd's reply. “It's time for you to provide Mattie a home and a more fitting full-time occupation.”

Mattie frowned, her irritation rising again as the conversation drifted from the screen door of the cabin Marlin Kurtz was staying in.

“Floyd, I must ask you to remember that Christine kept her husband's dairy herd because she needs an income—just as Mattie began her produce stand and Rosetta opened apartments for single women because they have no men in their family to support them,” Amos continued. His voice was calm but insistent. “It would be a shame to shut down the produce stand now that local folks are so eagerly supporting it—and it provides jobs for some of our other residents, too. I doubt you'd be agreeable if someone suddenly ordered you to quit running your siding business—”

“But that won't happen,” Floyd interrupted testily. “If you can speak so eloquently in support of Mattie's business, why can't you persuade her to marry you?”

Mattie's jaw dropped. The bishop's impertinence bordered on disrespect, especially because Amos had maintained a low-key response to the ultimatums they'd heard during Floyd's wedding sermon.

“While marriage is the traditional vision for Old Order adults,” another fellow joined in after a few moments of silence, “I can't believe you're suggesting that Christine and Marlin should get hitched—since there's nobody else for them to choose from. They hardly know each other.”

“That's how I see it,” a fourth fellow chimed in emphatically. “I'm sure Christine's a fine, upstanding woman who'll make some fellow a
gut
wife, but I have a business to get re-established and a house to finish before winter. And frankly, I'm still in mourning for my Essie. I doubt my heart will welcome another wife anytime soon.”