The Christmas Cradle (26 page)

“Sweet Jesus, hold me in Your ever-lovin' arms,” she rasped.

Miriam pressed her palms against the cold glass, staring in desperate disbelief. A sob escaped her, and she allowed all her pent-up emotions to boil over. Surely it was acceptable in God's sight to weep, to grieve over the place He'd led her to in her time of need after Jesse had passed. While she'd recently accepted that her place was now at home with Ben and their baby, pain stabbed her like a meat fork.

A landmark of her life was gone forever. Not since she'd watched her toddler Rebecca get swept away in the flood-swollen river had Miriam felt such anguish.

Miriam sniffled and looked around the front room. She and Bethlehem were the only ones at home, yet she could've sworn she'd heard a deep, resonant voice much like Vernon Gingerich's. And the voice was speaking directly to her. “
Jah
, Rebecca's back—and she's been such a blessing to me, and to everyone else in our little town, too,” Miriam whispered.

She held her breath, waiting. Were her imagination and her postpartum hormones playing tricks on her?

Miriam sucked in her breath. Had it happened this way when angels came to visit Mary and Joseph? She wiped her wet cheeks on her sleeve and checked to be sure the baby was all right.

Bethlehem slept sweetly in the cradle Ben had crafted. Just gazing at her made Miriam feel better.

“
Jah
, my Ben's been a mighty fine blessing, too,” she admitted. “And he's at the Wagler place right now, talkin' to folks about havin' faith and trust—in You, God.”

There—she'd said it. She'd declared aloud that God was speaking to her, and she was answering back. It was a good thing no one else was home, or they might think she was losing her marbles.

Swallowing hard, Miriam gazed around the front room again. Nothing had changed. She was still standing at the window and Bethlehem was now smiling in her sleep, as though she felt as safe and comfortable as she did when her father held her in his strong, steady arms.

Miriam relaxed. A sense of serenity filled her as she envisioned herself being held in her Father's strong, steady arms . . . allowed herself to believe that she and God were conversing, just as Mary had listened to Him and responded long ago. Her gaze shifted to the house where the Knepp kids were at their father's funeral. They had lost so much more than she had.

Father, hold those lambs in Your arms—and give Ben Your best guidance. He was scared when he left here, thinkin' he wouldn't be
gut
enough to preach such a tough service
.
He's stronger than he knows.

Miriam smiled. In her mind, she kissed Ben and held him close. Even so, as she focused on the soot and ashes and destruction across the road, there was no getting around the fact that two of the most vital businesses in Willow Ridge had burned to the ground, and that Hiram Knepp had destroyed them.

She sighed as recollections of the past year filled her mind . . . Hiram ordering her to marry him, and expecting Rhoda to repent for loving Englishman Andy Leitner . . . leveraging his twins' sleigh accident to procure the land for Higher Ground . . . boldly displaying his picture on his Web site . . . hiding a black Cadillac in his horse barn. And no one could forget the Sunday mornings when he'd stormed out of church rather than confessing these sins—and when he'd barged in on her and Ben's wedding ceremony and interrupted another service to snatch his young children away from Annie Mae. Hiram had tried to come between Nora and Luke, too—and had repeatedly threatened Josiah and peered into Lena's window.

“What am I missin', Lord?” Miriam murmured. “I believe You want the best for me—for all of Your children. And yet again and again Hiram tormented us.” She pressed her lips together, hoping she hadn't sounded petty or ungrateful for the wonderful life God had granted her.

Miriam sucked in her breath. While she'd agreed with everyone's remarks about Hiram's wicked intentions and unthinkable sins, no one had ever considered the possibility that God was showing Hiram the patience of a Father's love . . . the same great patience He displayed to each and every one of them despite the many ways they displeased and disobeyed Him every single day.

“Oh, my,” she whispered. “Please Father, don't ever give up on me. I'm doin' the best I can, and—”

When folks in black coats, hats, and bonnets began to stream out of the Wagler place, Miriam watched the six men who bore Hiram's plain wooden coffin to the horse-drawn hearse that waited near the house. Everyone would walk down the hill to the small cemetery, where her Jesse, her stillborn child, and others had been laid to rest over the years. After Bishop Tom said the final words over Hiram's grave, everyone would eat lunch at Nora and Luke's large home—a meal that Josiah, Savilla, and Lena had prepared.

Miriam watched respectfully, praying that God would look after Hiram's soul in the hereafter even as He nurtured the souls of His living children. Then she stood up straighter. Three identical young women, one of them carrying a baby basket, began walking toward town rather than following the funeral procession. Two other women joined them, along with a couple of hatless fellows who wore English-cut topcoats.

Miriam watched these people, who talked and nodded their heads as they passed Nora's big white house and reached the county highway. When they turned, approaching her house, Miriam carried Bethlehem's cradle to the kitchen to splash cool water on her face. She had a feeling she was about to have company—and that this group who were skipping the graveside service and the lunch had a very important reason to be visiting her instead.

“Mamma, how're ya feelin' today? We missed ya!” Rhoda said as she burst through the back kitchen door.

“Everyone says hello and sends their congratulations about Bethlehem, too,” Rebecca joined in.

“And oh, but ya should've heard Ben's preachin'!” Rachel exclaimed as she set baby Amelia's basket on the table near Bethlehem's cradle. “He closed his eyes and then it was like God was whisperin' in his ear. We were all sittin' on the edge of the benches, wonderin' what he'd say next.”

Miriam smiled to herself as she lit the stove burner under a percolator of fresh water and coffee. She was tickled to see Rebecca wearing a Plain black dress—probably one of Rachel's, because she'd been staying with Rachel and Micah since she'd lost her apartment. “And what did he say about Hiram?” she asked. “He was nervous when he left home.”

“I stand in awe, Miriam,” Bob Oliveri remarked as he and Derek Shotwell came inside, along with Mary Schrock and Naomi. “Here was a fellow who'd just had his business—and his wife's—burned down by the man he was preaching over, yet Ben talked of forgiving those who do us harm and following God to a new life. You Amish amaze me.”

As Miriam shared a hug with her triplets, she looked between their black bonnets to meet Bob's gaze. “Well, now. I'm sorry I missed that.”

“Oh, it was something,” Naomi agreed as she removed her wraps. “He started out by talkin' about how it sometimes seems that God turns His back and looks the other way while people get away with all manner of evil—”

“But that's when God's already leadin' us toward something new and better, and we're supposed to
follow
Him,” Rhoda murmured. “It was awesome. Even Bishop Tom was wipin' his eyes.”

Miriam thanked the Lord for providing Ben with such an uplifting message. “To God be the glory,” she murmured as she gave her girls a final squeeze. She was pleased that her guests were hanging up their coats, as though they felt right at home and planned to visit for awhile. “When I saw ya comin', I was glad Lena left some of her cookies. It seems you're skippin' the funeral lunch and I'm sure it'll be tasty, what with Josiah and Savilla fixin' the food.”

Bob and Derek shared a glance and then took seats at the table, while Naomi grabbed the cookie tins. “We thought this would be a good opportunity to discuss your options, while Josiah's busy cooking,” Bob began in a matter-of-fact tone.

“Not that we want to exclude him,” Derek assured her. He chose a frosted star cookie covered with sprinkles. “But the Sweet Seasons and the quilt shop belonged to you three women, and we want you to know where things stand so you can make some informed decisions.”

Miriam sat down beside Naomi, clasping her hand as she reached for Mary's, as well. Both women appeared as curious as she was about what Bob Oliveri and the banker were hinting at. As the man who'd bought the Sweet Seasons building to prevent Hiram from taking control of the café, Bob had saved them from a lot of heartache. “What kind of decisions are ya talkin' about? I finally got up the nerve to look at what's left—or
not
left—of the two buildings this morning. It seems pretty clear to me. They're
gone
.”

“And we lost a dozen or more handmade quilts, not to mention all those bolts of fabric and sewing supplies,” Mary said sadly. “It'll take months to replace those quilts. And the ladies who made them didn't get paid.”

“Same goes for the food and equipment in the Sweet Seasons,” Naomi said. “Miriam and I scraped together a lot of start-up money to buy our appliances and to pay my boys for the chairs and tables they built. Now that Miriam's stayin' home with her baby, I can't expect her to invest that much money again—and I can't come up with that kind of cash,” she continued earnestly. “Ezra wants me to quit cookin' there, but he'll feel the pinch when I'm not bringin' home my share of the café's income.”

Bob nodded, listening carefully to their concerns. He smiled as he chose a green cookie in the shape of a wreath, with red candies for holly berries. “The bright side of this situation is that you sold me the building and I've carried insurance on it. Now that the police have determined it was arson—which means Hiram started the blaze—we can collect on the policy.”

Miriam saw that Mary and Naomi were as puzzled by these words as she was. “So what're ya sayin', Bob? We Plain ladies don't understand the details about insurance,” she pointed out. “We Amish don't believe in makin' payments for years and years based on a piece of paper. We pay for what we need as we go along.”

Bob looked at Miriam, Mary, and Naomi, and then smiled at Rebecca—the daughter he'd raised English—as though they shared a delightful secret. “Because I've carried insurance that will pay for what you've lost, plus whatever it costs to replace it—inflation and inventory included—we can rebuild the Sweet Seasons and the quilt shop,” he explained. “You ladies can be back in business as soon as the new structure goes up. That's how insurance works.”

Mary's mouth dropped open. “You'd
do
that for us?”

“In a heartbeat,” Bob replied. “Your businesses have been an enjoyable investment for me because I love being part of Willow Ridge's growth and prosperity—and I'd be foolish not to accept the money I have coming to me. I've paid the premiums and now the insurance company will honor the policy by covering what you've lost.”

Naomi and Mary gripped Miriam's hands and stared at each other in disbelief. “My stars—and Merry Christmas!” Naomi blurted out. “That's a fine gift you've given us, Bob.
Denki
ever so much.”

Bob flushed. “I also believe that if you rebuild your businesses, it's a sign to all the world that Hiram didn't get the best of you—that your goodness has won out over his evil.”

A hush settled over the kitchen. Miriam liked the sound of that, and she was pleased that the man who'd raised her Rebecca was speaking so eloquently on their behalf. “Ya said a mouthful there, Bob.”

“And I stand with him a hundred percent.” Derek smiled kindly at all of them as he reached for another cookie. “We'll need a list of the quilts you lost, Mary, along with the approximate value of each one. You all need to write out the equipment and furnishings and shelving you lost, plus the appliances and inventory—everything it would take to replace what was in your shops when they burned down.”

Miriam had been following the conversation closely, yet a little red flag waved in the back of her mind. “We should be talkin' to Josiah about what he wants. Now that I've got baby Bethlehem, I'm out of the bakin' business.”

Odd expressions came over Bob and Derek's clean-shaven faces. “Are you
sure
, Miriam?” the banker asked. “You've been the backbone of the Sweet Seasons—”

Miriam raised both of her hands. “I know why you're thinkin' that way because for a long while I did, too,” she said. “But that wee baby in the cradle Ben made is my new mission, fellas. I'm livin' the life of a happy Amish wife and mother now. No ifs, ands, or buts about it.”

“Nevertheless, that land belongs to
you
, Miriam,” Bob pointed out. “Legally, when I bought the Sweet Seasons, you and I entered into a leasing situation, with the stipulation that if something happened to me, the entire property would revert to you. So while the money to rebuild your businesses will come to me, it's your call as to whether another structure will be built on your property.”

Miriam blinked. The detail about land ownership had slipped her mind—and it hadn't mattered while she and her two closest friends had worked together these past couple of years. Did it matter now that she was staying home?
Is it proper for an Amish wife and mother to invest in a business she'll no longer participate in?

The percolator's last gasp announced that the coffee was ready, so Miriam rose to remove the basket and fill the mugs Rhoda and Rebecca were taking from the cupboard. She couldn't miss the intense expressions Naomi and Mary wore, and she realized that Josiah, Savilla, and Lena had a stake in her decision, as well. Even so, she'd recently vowed to follow Plain ways and God's plan for her life rather than just forging ahead with what she
wanted
to do. If she gave in to her first impulse and agreed to a new building, would He think she'd already gone back on her promise? That she wasn't really dedicated to living her life His way?

Everyone in the kitchen sat in silence, awaiting what Miriam would say . . . how she would determine the fate of her friends and the future of Willow Ridge.

I could use a sign from You, Lord,
Miriam prayed as she concentrated on the full mugs of coffee she carried to the table. When she sat down again after everyone had been served, she looked apologetically at Naomi and Mary. “If it was only up to me, I'd tell ya—”

Outside, a loud stomping announced that someone was knocking snow off his boots. When Ben entered the kitchen, Miriam smiled at him despite the tension she'd created. “I hear ya preached a mighty fine sermon today, and I'm wishin' I could've heard it.”

“With God's help we've buried our dead, and we can move on now,” Ben replied. He wore an expression of humility, yet there was fresh energy in his voice. “And ya know, after starin' again at the rubble that used to be my smithy, I've decided to rebuild on this side of the road, where folks'll have easier access to my shop.”

Miriam smiled wryly as she fetched him a cup of coffee. Ben wasn't saying so, but she sensed he wanted his new smithy on his own property, rather than on hers. “It just so happens we've been talkin' about that very subject,” she remarked. Then she looked at Bob. “I don't suppose that insurance money covers Ben's business, does it?”

“No,” he replied, “but I'd be happy to contribute to the rebuilding of—”

“
Denki
, Bob, but you're too late!” Ben interrupted in a jovial tone. “Before we went over to Nora's for the lunch, the Brenneman boys showed me their drawing for a new smithy—said they were figurin' to build my new shop and Miriam's before the ashes of the old ones had even gone cold! Then Homer Yoder said he was bringin' in some Mennonite fellas with heavy equipment to dig and pour a foundation for my new place tomorrow, while the ground's still warm enough.”

Ben grabbed a frosted angel cookie from the plate, waving it at them in his excitement. “Homer's friends plan to clear away the mess across the road, too, so you gals can rebuild as soon as you've worked up a floor plan with Naomi's boys,” he went on in a rush. “Bishop Tom was in on the conversation, too, and he said our district's Amish Aid fund would pay for replacin' both buildings. All the church members have been payin' into the fund for years to cover this sort of emergency. I came straight home instead of goin' to the lunch because I just had to tell ya the
gut
news, honey-girl.”

“So there ya have it!” Miriam giggled as she grabbed Mary and Naomi's hands again. God had already foreseen her difficult decision about rebuilding the Sweet Seasons on her land and He'd given His answer. “Who am I to argue with Bishop Tom? If he sees a problem with me ownin' the land the new café's on, we'll settle it later. Onward and upward!”

“That's the spirit, Mamma,” Rhoda exclaimed.

“Can't argue with that kind of support, Ben,” Derek agreed with an astonished smile. “If more towns operated on the same principles we've seen here in Willow Ridge, the world would be a different place.”

Ben nodded, smiling at their two English friends. “Here in Willow Ridge, we take care of each other,” he explained. “Micah, Seth, and Aaron Brenneman have already rearranged their schedule so they can start our buildings when the foundations are set. We're
gut
to go.”

Bob was shaking his head, chuckling. “Once again, you Amish amaze and inspire me,” he said. When he smiled at Miriam, his respect for her shone on his face. “My offer for assistance with replacement costs and supplies still stands. The insurance money will be available for—”

“However this all gets paid for,” Miriam interrupted, “I still want your name on the papers, Bob. Bishop Tom's probably not thought of this, but in order for us to have electricity, as the health department requires, somebody who's not Amish has to own the building.”

“
Jah
, I want that, too,” Mary insisted. “We Mennonites would be allowed to install the electricity, but I can't expect the Amish Aid fund to cover the costs of those quilts and the inventory we lost—and Eva, Priscilla, and I surely can't afford to replace them. If you're willing to help us with that, Bob, you should have the building as one of your assets. Something to show for what you're investing in us.”

Bob and Derek exchanged a glance. “Seems clear to me that however we divvy up the replacement costs, everybody's covered,” the banker remarked.

“I'm confident we'll work it all out and that everyone'll be back in business as though the fire had never happened,” Bob said with an emphatic nod.

Miriam smiled, relieved that these friends were so willing to move forward without asking her to be directly involved anymore. As she watched Rebecca choose a dark chocolate sleigh cookie, however, it occurred to her that they weren't finished with this discussion. “Ya know what we haven't talked about? Our Rebecca's lost her home. I'm tickled that since she's come back she's been willin' to bunk here and there, dependin' on where we've had space for her—”