The Christmas Cradle (11 page)

It felt good to sit down at the table where Lena and Miriam had finished cutting the pies. He noticed that Matthias and Savilla were filling plates, remaining at the serving table as they got better acquainted—and that seemed like a good sign.

Josiah closed his eyes over spicy-sweet baked beans and a mouthful of tender pork. The guests' praise for the wedding food reassured him that their new supper shift would have a profitable following, and he was satisfied with the business agreement he and Miriam had written up. But it would be a long time before he stopped replaying the scene Hiram had caused, and before he could dismiss Knepp's threats about going to court.

Josiah heaved a tired, worried sigh. Even with the sheriff and Officer McClatchey watching out for him, he sensed he hadn't seen the last of Hiram Knepp.

After Nora and Luke had cut their tiered wedding cake, Miriam, Lena, and a few other ladies began to plate cake for the guests. Nora had decided to serve the cake right after dinner rather than later in the day, as newlyweds traditionally did. This suited Miriam because she was feeling heavy and tired—maybe because she needed to speak with Naomi about her decision not to work at the Sweet Seasons anymore.

How should she break the news to her business partner, her cook, her best friend? As she sliced the large bottom layer of the beautiful white cake she'd made, Miriam searched for the right words and the right time. When all the guests were visiting and Lena had gone to sit with Josiah and Savilla, she smiled at Naomi. “How about us two stayin' right here in this corner to chat?” she suggested. “I've got something to say, and it's not for just anybody to hear.”

Naomi's brown eyes widened. She picked up two plates of cake and handed one to Miriam before scooting her chair over so they sat side by side. “I hope ya haven't had a bad report from Andy about the baby,” she murmured.

“No, no, nothin' like that.” Miriam pressed her fork through the layer of moist cake and frosting but didn't eat the bite she'd cut. “Ben and Tom are sayin' I've overstepped by workin' at the café, especially with the baby comin'. So Saturday'll be my last day,” she murmured. “I hate springin' it on ya this way, but—”

“Oh, dearie, I've been waitin' for this shoe to drop ever since ya married Ben,” Naomi said with a chuckle. “When we closed up for a couple of weeks between last Christmas and your New Year's Day wedding, I figured ya wouldn't come back to work after that.”

Miriam let out the breath she'd been holding. Why had she lain awake the past two nights, fearing Naomi would fuss or feel overwhelmed?

“I'm mighty glad ya did come back to work, though,” her partner added as she squeezed Miriam's hand. “Won't be the same without ya there, Miriam. It'll be a challenge to find enough help with the bakin' and servin', though, because
three
people won't be able to fill your shoes.”

“I'm relieved that you're takin' this so well.” Miriam laughed nervously. “Should've known you'd be prepared for this situation.”

Naomi blinked quickly, busying herself with a bite of cake before she spoke again. “Like everybody else, I knew ya should be stayin' home, but I was hangin' on to every day we could work together.”

“
Jah
, we've had some wonderful-
gut
times in that kitchen, ain't so? Cooked up a lot of laughter along with our food.” Miriam closed her eyes over her first bite of cake, which tasted even moister and sweeter now that she'd said what needed saying.

“And think what all's happened since we opened the Sweet Seasons,” Naomi continued in a nostalgic tone. “Your Rebecca returned to ya, and your Rachel married my Micah and they've had wee Amelia—and Rhoda's made a family with Andy and his kids. Me, I've sorta stayed the same,” she reflected as she cut another bite of cake. “I've been grateful for the money comin' in—not to mention havin' a place to spend cheerful mornings with you on days when Ezra was grumpy.”

Miriam smiled tenderly. Naomi didn't let on to most folks about her husband's moodiness since a construction accident had confined him to a wheelchair. “I feel bad about leavin' ya shorthanded. I figure Rhoda will soon have a baby, and with Rebecca workin' at the clinic and designin' Web sites, she's only part-time at best.”

“We can't expect our kids to stay the same forever, or to live their lives so they're convenient for
us
,” Naomi mused. “And you—why, you've got a whole new life ahead of ya! I'm so happy you're able to have Ben's baby. You two are such
gut
, solid partners. Examples for us all.”

“
Denki
for seein' things this way,” Miriam replied. She gazed around the large, noisy room, crowded with people she knew and loved. “Maybe Nellie Knepp would work for ya. Or Katie Zook.”

“Oh, I think Lydia wants to keep Katie helpin' at the market. The younger Zook boys sometimes make more work than they get done.”

As they laughed together, Miriam realized she would miss talk like this even more than the baking she loved to do. Spending her days at home would feel
very
different from what she'd become accustomed to. “Let's don't say anything about Saturday bein' my last day,” she suggested. “I don't want folks makin' a big deal of it—or lettin' on like the place'll close down without me there.”

“My lips're sealed,” Naomi murmured. “What with us closin' for Thanksgiving next Thursday and Friday, next week'll be short anyway. Might give Rebecca a chance to advertise for somebody.”

“
Gut
idea. Rebecca's a whiz at that sort of thing,” Miriam replied. “At least Hiram won't be comin' to pester anybody—for a while, anyway. I won't miss all the drama he stirs up every time he shows his face.”

“Can you believe that snake, raisin' such a ruckus here at Nora and Luke's wedding?” Naomi muttered. “I thought we'd seen the worst of it when he whacked off Annie Mae's hair last spring, but it seems there's no limit to his wickedness.”

Nodding, Miriam took another bite of her cake. She would miss her chats with Naomi. The two of them had shared opinions and wisdom and inside jokes for so long that they could finish each other's sentences. When Monday morning came, she knew she'd be wide awake, ready to begin her baking at three o'clock—and wondering what to do with the day that stretched ahead of her. She'd done some of her best thinking and praying during those quiet hours alone, kneading and shaping dough as she put her life in order.

It'll all work out, Lord
.
But You might have to remind me about that for a while.

 

 

After the wedding festivities, Ben walked Miriam home. She was moving slower, sighing tiredly, so after he helped her out of her coat, he placed his hands on her shoulders. “Honey-girl, I'm not naggin', but I'd feel a lot better if ya didn't work at the Sweet Seasons anymore.”

Miriam laughed ruefully. “Ya get your wish, Ben. Saturday's my last day,” she said. “It's the right thing to do, but I'm not sure how I feel about it. Naomi took it better than I figured.”

Ben hugged her tenderly. “
Denki
for decidin' that, Miriam. I doubt the talk I've gotta have with Josiah will be as easy. When Hiram showed up, I was ready to tell that kid he was
out
as far as cookin' that supper shift goes. It's time somebody gave Josiah the what-for about some things that have bothered me all along,” he insisted. “Bear with me, all right?”

Miriam considered this idea. “He couldn't have known Hiram would come today,” she said in Josiah's defense. “And who could've guessed what the police said—”

“That's not the point,” Ben said gently. “Josiah's gonna get an earful, and I wanted ya to be prepared.”

Miriam nodded. “I'll heat some cider and then put my feet up. I hope Lena won't feel she has to help clean up the mess from the dinner.”

Ben watched her amble toward the stove, noting how her side-to-side gait was getting more pronounced. He went to the picture window in the front room, where he saw the wedding guests hitching up their buggies to get on the road home. His parents and other family members from Lancaster County were staying either with Luke and Nora or with his aunts, Nazareth and Jerusalem, at Tom's place, and that suited Ben fine. It gave his Pennsylvania family more time with Nora, Bishop Tom, and Bishop Vernon Gingerich, the newer members of the family—and it gave him a chance to speak his mind without spoiling the occasion.

It was after seven before the Witmers and Lena returned to the house. Ben was pleased to hear Josiah and Savilla telling Miriam that they'd washed all the utensils and pans and put them away.

“I was amazed at how many folks we fed today, and at how they raved about the food,” Lena said. She settled on the couch with Miriam and picked up her crochet bag. “Everyone's excited about the new evening hours for the Sweet Seasons, too.”

Ben prayed for the words that would accomplish his difficult purpose. “I think we need to reconsider that situation,” he stated. As Savilla joined them in the front room, Ben gestured for Josiah to sit down in one of the upholstered chairs.

“I'm mighty disappointed that ya didn't contact Hiram earlier,” Ben continued after the Witmers were settled. “Now that he's found you and Savilla and Lena—and he believes Miriam kept ya from goin' to Higher Ground—he's got lots of ammunition,” Ben began sternly. “As ya heard, Hiram didn't like it one bit that ya backed out on him. Nobody would've. And now Miriam's smack in the middle of this new hornet's nest.”

“I said I was sorry about that,” Josiah protested. “I had no idea Knepp would find out we were cooking for—” He stopped talking when he saw Ben picking up the sheet of notebook paper on which he and Miriam had written their business agreement.

“But I
told
ya he'd cause trouble,” Ben insisted, “and ya either didn't believe me or ya chose to ignore my advice. So I need to see some compensation to Miriam for the trouble you've caused her.”

Ben ripped the sheet of paper down the middle, doubled it, and then tore it again. Josiah, Savilla, and Lena became silent and wide-eyed, while Miriam remained focused on what she was crocheting. Her tense expression told Ben she was listening closely, however.

“Wh—what do you mean,
compensation?
” Josiah asked. “Until the money comes through from selling the farm in Bloomfield, I don't have any cash.”

“Money's not the issue here. A sense that you're takin' responsibility is what I'm after,” Ben replied. He stood in front of Josiah with his arms crossed. “I think workin' in the Sweet Seasons for the next couple of weeks would be a
gut
thing for everyone involved.”

Josiah's jaw dropped. “Without pay? But how am I supposed to—”

Ben kept looking the kid in the eye. He didn't appreciate the stubborn, rebellious expression on Josiah's face. “It's not like you'll be buyin' the food ya serve. And you've been livin' here with us, so your expenses haven't been real high.”

“I think that's a fair offer,” Savilla stated. The rise of one eyebrow suggested that she'd also been ready to call her brother out about not contacting Hiram. “Consider it an internship—a chance to see if running a restaurant is really your cup of tea—and mine,” she added. “It'll be different from cooking mostly on the weekends and taking only the jobs that appeal to you.”

Josiah glared at his sister. “Why does everybody think I'm incapable of managing an evening shift—”

“Because you've not done it before,” Ben insisted. “And also because of the way ya opened the door for Hiram to lash out at Miriam. He believes she kept ya from workin' for him because ya didn't tell him any different, Josiah,” he continued urgently. “Ya heard how he spoke to her—saw how he was eyeballin' Savilla, too, and figurin' out where Lena fits into this picture. He targets women, so we don't dare let down our guard now.”

“It was like Hiram changed personalities without batting an eye,” Savilla murmured. She shuddered, hugging herself. “One minute he was sweet-talking me and in the next breath he was hurling threats and accusations at you, Josiah. I'm
really
glad we're not going to Higher Ground. Hiram Knepp is bad news.”

“Fine then. Just
fine!
” Josiah snapped as he rose from his chair to pace. “Ben's torn up my business agreement and now my sister's slamming me, too. Anybody else care to take a shot?”

Miriam glanced up from her handiwork, frowning. “What I'm seein' and hearin' tells me you'd be out the door the minute something didn't go your way, young man. If ya can't harness that bad attitude, it'll be like havin' an untamed horse in my kitchen.” Her voice remained deceptively calm, but she was clearly losing her patience. “I've worked too hard buildin' up my business to have ya upsettin' the routine or my customers—or Naomi. You're a fine cook, but it takes more than that to keep a café goin'.”

Ben was pleased that Miriam had spoken this way, and that she fully grasped the risk Josiah represented.

Josiah stopped pacing to stand in front of the couch. “How about you, Lena?” he demanded. “Are you going to take a turn now?”

Lena, who'd followed this escalating conversation with wide blue eyes, burst into tears. Before Ben could respond, Miriam grabbed the girl's hand.

“Because ya asked, there
is
another matter that needs tendin',” Miriam said in a tone Ben had never heard her use. “Lena and your baby deserve a decision about your place in their lives. Ya can't waffle on this, Josiah. You're either in or you're out.”

Josiah opened his mouth but closed it before he made another rash remark.

Ben stood firm, watching the emotions play on the kid's face. Neither Miriam nor Savilla said a word. Lena stopped crying to focus on Josiah as though her life depended on his reply—because it did. The clock ticked away several tense, uncomfortable moments.

Josiah stood motionless, caught between the proverbial rock and the hard place where he would either find faith and courage or lose them. Ben sensed the kid would later come to see this discussion as the crossroad that had determined which path his life would take, so he let Josiah stew. Silence was a potent form of communication. Pain was a powerful teacher.