Authors: Charlotte Hubbard
Tags: #Fiction, #Religious, #Christian, #Romance, #Amish & Mennonite
Autumn Winds (25 page)
“He’s had a bitter pill to swallow, for sure and for certain. But it explains why he takes his meals in the Sweet Seasons—a lot of the time with Preacher Gabe, it seems.”
“Gabe’s wife, Wilma, is all but bedridden. He takes togo boxes home for her most days.” Miriam laughed softly. “The preachin’ service is at Tom’s this Sunday, so the Brenneman boys will help him set up the pew benches while we women fix the food for the common meal. Maybe somethin’ along that line fits into Nazareth’s schedule . . .”
“Always one to help those in need, Aunt Nazareth is. Well”—Ben halted his horse, and right there in the middle of the road he kissed her again—“almost back to your place, perty girl. And you can bet the curtains’ll be a-flutter with folks peerin’ out when we drive in.”
Miriam smiled in the darkness as the lighted windows of her home came into view. She so rarely got out in the evenings, she hadn’t thought about what a comfort that sight could be—just as it had always made her feel safe to look out her bedroom window and see the lamps lit over at Naomi and Ezra Brenneman’s place.
Yet Ben talked as if that might change. “So where did ya have in mind for that new house you’re thinkin’ about? Ya wouldn’t even have to buy land, ya know. Plenty of room on our farm for another home.”
“When I’ve got the details worked out, you’ll be the first to know, Miriam.” He playfully kissed the tip of her nose. “But for now, that’s
my
secret and I’m stickin’ to it!”
my
secret and I’m stickin’ to it!”
Chapter 24
By Friday in the Sweet Seasons, all the talk was about Bishop Knepp’s car and how he hadn’t been in to eat with Tom and Gabe since Jerusalum Hooley had taken him down a few pegs in front of his boys. Rhoda listened to the menfolk talking about this, not surprised that most of them thought it was Ben’s aunt who needed a talking-to: What proper woman would be so brazen as to confront the bishop in public rather than wait until he got home?
Rhoda, however, suspected that Jerusalem was just made that way. The Ordnung was meant to be followed, so it was her natural inclination to keep her students—of whatever age—pointed along the higher path. And while Nazareth Hooley went about instructing folks in a quieter way, she, too, saw that everything was done according to her teacherly standards.
It made for interesting conversation when the two sisters came home from the Knepp house of an evening, although Jerusalem hadn’t mentioned Hiram and his car since Monday. She talked as though the four youngest children were her main focus . . . yet Rhoda, Rachel, and Mamma all suspected the
maidel
was carrying a torch for Hiram.
maidel
was carrying a torch for Hiram.
“So, Sister—we’ll be back sometime Sunday from the visits out and around,” Rachel said as she closed the dishwasher to run it. “We’ll be at the Raber cousins’ for dinner and stayin’ over tonight, then it’s on to Uncle Paul’s for Saturday noon. I’m sure Uncle Mose will be preachin’ in Bowling Green on Sunday, and we’ll start home after the common meal there.”
“It’ll be a long ride back for ya. We’ll miss ya, Sister.”
Rachel shrugged, but she still had that starry-eyed look about her. “It’s not such a bad thing, collectin’ our wedding gifts and showin’ up at everybody’s house as married folks. Adults now, for sure and for certain!”
So . . . if I’m the same age but I’m not hitched, does that mean I’m still a child?
Rhoda bit back this remark. Rachel looked so happy as she sat on Micah’s left at the table and as they rode in their buggy, as befit an Amish wife. Micah was in the shop putting the top on his courting buggy to convert it into a carriage, the way most young men did when they married. Like the new beard that framed his face, it was a sign they were husband and wife.
Rhoda stood with Mamma outside the café to see the newlyweds off, waving as the shiny black carriage rolled smartly past them behind Micah’s finest bay—a retired racehorse with a proud gait and conformation to him.
“Well, there they go,” Mamma murmured. She slipped her arm around Rhoda’s shoulders as they went back into the kitchen. “It’s
gut
we’re goin’ to Preacher Tom’s to redd up for him after the café closes. And I’m kinda glad the Hooley sisters’ll be around for dinner. We won’t feel so much like two loose peas rollin’ around in a shoebox that way, ain’t so?”
gut
we’re goin’ to Preacher Tom’s to redd up for him after the café closes. And I’m kinda glad the Hooley sisters’ll be around for dinner. We won’t feel so much like two loose peas rollin’ around in a shoebox that way, ain’t so?”
“
Jah
, it’s different not bein’ in the room beside Rachel, and comin’ to work without her in the mornin’s. But we’re doin’ what we’ve gotta do, I suppose.”
Jah
, it’s different not bein’ in the room beside Rachel, and comin’ to work without her in the mornin’s. But we’re doin’ what we’ve gotta do, I suppose.”
“Oh, Rhoda, someday it’ll be you ridin’ off to collect your presents. But meanwhile”—Mamma got a wistful look on her face, like she might cry—“I’m mighty glad to have ya with me yet, child of mine. You’re a blessin’ like ya have no idea about, every single day.”
Rhoda smiled, but it was good that two o’clock was rolling around—and that on Fridays, the dining room usually cleared out a little earlier. By the time she’d wiped down the tables and taken the last English couple’s money, Mamma and Naomi were putting away the lunch buffet leftovers.
“How about we take home these green beans and the last of the pork roast?” Mamma asked her. “There’s enough for all of us here.”
“That’ll be easy to whip up after we spend the afternoon at Preacher Tom’s,” Rhoda replied. “Want me to put it in the fridge at home and meet ya over there?”
“
Gut
idea. See ya in a few.”
Gut
idea. See ya in a few.”
With the big covered bowl of beans in the crook of one elbow and the plate of sliced pork roast in the other hand, Rhoda walked down the lane toward the house. She saw Ben as she passed the smithy, wearing a safety mask exactly like her
dat
’s; with the welding torch in his gloved hands, he could’ve passed for her father at first glance—a startling thought. He was forming some ornate curlicues in a wrought iron gate Micah’s brothers had brought from the historical home they’d been refurbishing. He was so engrossed in his work, she didn’t interrupt him. He looked completely caught up in what he was doing . . . in restoring the beauty of a bygone day.
dat
’s; with the welding torch in his gloved hands, he could’ve passed for her father at first glance—a startling thought. He was forming some ornate curlicues in a wrought iron gate Micah’s brothers had brought from the historical home they’d been refurbishing. He was so engrossed in his work, she didn’t interrupt him. He looked completely caught up in what he was doing . . . in restoring the beauty of a bygone day.
It was another reminder of how everyone around her had found a purpose for their lives—a reason to work every day at something that was useful and fulfilling. And what was her purpose? As she continued up the driveway without Rachel, she wondered if she would ever get past this feeling that the other half of her was missing.
When she arrived at Tom Hostetler’s, just one farm beyond the Brennemans’ on the gravel road, her mood shifted; the lingering aromas of cattle and manure and silage disappeared when she stepped inside the modest white house. Nazareth and Jerusalem Hooley had scrubbed down the kitchen and tossed all the towels in the wringer washer out in the mud room.
“And how’s our Rhoda today?” Nazereth asked. Sweat was seeping past the band of her blue kerchief, yet she smiled sweetly. “Busy at the bakery?”
“
Jah
, Mamma made her pies to stock the shelves with at Zook’s Market for the weekend, and most of the usual breakfast and lunch crowd was there,” she replied as she took up a tea towel to dry the dishes in the drainer. “Not as many tourists, now that school’s on and the days are coolin’ down. And we can’t help noticin’ Hiram’s not been there all week.”
Jah
, Mamma made her pies to stock the shelves with at Zook’s Market for the weekend, and most of the usual breakfast and lunch crowd was there,” she replied as she took up a tea towel to dry the dishes in the drainer. “Not as many tourists, now that school’s on and the days are coolin’ down. And we can’t help noticin’ Hiram’s not been there all week.”
Jerusalem got up off the floor she’d been scrubbing at the end of the kitchen. “Your bishop’s finally figurin’ out that he might not be able to wiggle out of this business with that black car,” she remarked. “Bishop Mullet and Bishop Shetler have both been there for visits, alone and together—and a couple times with Tom and Gabe Glick, as well.”
“I hear Wilma Glick took a tumble outta bed in the night, though,” Nazareth added with a worried scowl. “Guess Gabe and their granddaughter, Millie, got a driver and took Wilma to the emergency room to check for broken bones, brittle as she is.”
Mamma came in through the mud room then, catching the last of that conversation. “
Jah
, they’re sayin’ she might’ve punctured a lung when some ribs broke. Poor old thing hasn’t been well for so long.” She went to check the front room. “Looks like the fellas got all the partitions down and have us set up with benches and hymn books. And I can’t recall the last time I saw this kitchen gleamin’ this way. You ladies have been workin’ at it awhile.”
Jah
, they’re sayin’ she might’ve punctured a lung when some ribs broke. Poor old thing hasn’t been well for so long.” She went to check the front room. “Looks like the fellas got all the partitions down and have us set up with benches and hymn books. And I can’t recall the last time I saw this kitchen gleamin’ this way. You ladies have been workin’ at it awhile.”
Nazareth and her sister shrugged at the same time.
Somethin’ they’ve done all their lives, like Rachel and me
, Rhoda thought. “It’s what we can do to help out,” Nazareth remarked. “It’s not easy for a man alone to host the Sunday service—and probably preach one of the sermons as well—while he’s takin’ care of his cattle chores and the milkin’, too.”
Somethin’ they’ve done all their lives, like Rachel and me
, Rhoda thought. “It’s what we can do to help out,” Nazareth remarked. “It’s not easy for a man alone to host the Sunday service—and probably preach one of the sermons as well—while he’s takin’ care of his cattle chores and the milkin’, too.”
“Micah’s brothers have always set up the pew benches for Tom when it’s his turn,” Rhoda replied. “And Jonah Zook and Aaron generally come real early in their chorin’ clothes to milk on those Sunday mornin’s.”
“Many hands make light work,” Jerusalem quipped. She wiped her forehead against the inside of her elbow and took a long drink of ice water. “What we weren’t sure about, though, was the food for Sunday’s meal. Should we be checkin’ the cellar downstairs—or thawin’ somethin’ from Tom’s deep freeze?”
“All the women bring side dishes for passin’ around,” Mamma replied. “Naomi and I usually get some sort of meat cooked and sliced up for—”
“Oh, could I do that for you this time?” Nazareth asked. Her grin turned almost girlish. “We’ve lived in the
dawdi haus
at our brother Zion’s for so long, I rarely get to cook, so it’d be a pleasure to contribute that way. Tom seems like such a nice fella—”
dawdi haus
at our brother Zion’s for so long, I rarely get to cook, so it’d be a pleasure to contribute that way. Tom seems like such a nice fella—”
“Oh, I’ve got ya fooled then,” a voice teased from the porch. Tom chortled at the surprised look on Nazareth’s face as he slipped out of his muddy work boots. “But I can’t thank you gals enough for gettin’ me ready for Sunday.”
He stepped into the kitchen then, gazing around at the walls and the countertops. “My word. I can’t recall this room lookin’ so neat and tidy even when Lettie lived here. This is a real big favor you’re doin’ me. I—I don’t know what to say.”
“Then suggest what you’d like us to bring for the main part of the common meal.” Nazareth folded her hands in front of her, smiling sweetly at him. “Back in our district, we serve a lot of cold cuts. I’m thinkin’ ya might eat sandwiches so often that it’s not much of a treat to have the same for Sunday’s dinner . . . even if ya don’t have to fix them yourself.”
When the dairy farmer removed his hat, his wavy brown hair was crushed and damp from the afternoon’s work in his barns. Yet Rhoda thought she detected a delight in his eyes she hadn’t seen for a long while.
“Truly, Nazareth, whatever ya make’ll be a welcome switch from my own fumblin’ in the kitchen,” he admitted. “I’d even drive ya over to the market if ya give me a minute to find some clean pants. I need a few things there myself, ya see.”
“Since you’re goin’ that direction,” Mamma suggested, “could ya pick up the apples and peaches Leah’s set aside for Sunday? She’s happy to provide the fruit if I’ll make the pies. Naomi’ll be helpin’ me with that at the café tonight—”
“And I’m makin’ cinnamon applesauce for Sunday, too,” Rhoda added.
“So we can just meet ya there with whatever I find at the market?” Nazareth clapped her hands together. “A pie frolic! And so much easier, workin’ in the bakery kitchen where there’s room to spread out. I’ll see ya there, Sister.”
Jerusalem was fumbling in her skirt pocket. “Here—pick me up some fresh lettuce and what-all for that overnight salad we like so well. If there’s space in Miriam’s fridge, we can make them in salad bowls, all ready to pass around.”
“We’ve got just the bowls ya need and the space to keep them cold for ya,” Mamma assured her.
Tom was following this rapid-fire conversation with an awestruck expression. “So—just like that, ya have everythin’ figured out for the common meal?”
“That’s perty much how it works,
jah
,” Jerusalem said with a chuckle. She handed Nazareth a wad of folded bills. “Be generous when you’re buyin’ those groceries, Sister. Miriam’s been takin’ mighty fine care of us and it’s our turn to buy.”
jah
,” Jerusalem said with a chuckle. She handed Nazareth a wad of folded bills. “Be generous when you’re buyin’ those groceries, Sister. Miriam’s been takin’ mighty fine care of us and it’s our turn to buy.”
“Consider it done.” Nazareth turned to Tom with a sweet smile. “I’ll just put on my kapp and write out my shoppin’ list while ya find those pants, Preacher. Mighty nice of ya to help us out this way.”
Consider it done.
Rhoda had seen Plain women working and cooking together all her life, but with Naomi and the Hooley sisters helping, they had prepared the main part of the common meal for more than 120 folks by eight thirty that evening. Twenty fruit pies lined the back counter of the Sweet Seasons kitchen, while four baked turkeys had been set in the big floor-to-ceiling refrigerator to cool. She and Naomi had peeled and cooked enough apples for a huge pan of applesauce, made with cinnamon Red Hots candies to turn it a pretty shade of pink, while Jerusalem had prepared her layered salad in glass bowls that showed off the rainbow colors of the veggies she’d used.
“See ya tomorrow, Naomi,” Rhoda said as their neighbor started for home. “
Denki
for all the help. You’re one quick woman with a parin’ knife.”
Denki
for all the help. You’re one quick woman with a parin’ knife.”
Naomi’s brown eyes sparkled. “
Jah
, don’t mess with me or you’re liable to end up in a cookin’ pot,” she shot back. “Thanks for this peach pie, ladies! The fellas at my house’ll make quick work of it.”
Jah
, don’t mess with me or you’re liable to end up in a cookin’ pot,” she shot back. “Thanks for this peach pie, ladies! The fellas at my house’ll make quick work of it.”
Mamma gazed around the café’s kitchen and grinned. “Not that I’m biased or anythin’, but I’m thinkin’ this’ll be the best common meal we’ve had in a long time. Smells like Thanksgivin’ in here, Nazareth! Sliced turkey’ll taste mighty
gut
on Sunday.”
gut
on Sunday.”
“I was tickled to see that Henry had them in his meat case, fresh, for folks lookin’ ahead to the holidays,” she replied. “Nothin’ easier to fix for a crowd than turkey, if ya use those newfangled oven bags.”
Nazareth dried her hands with a satisfied sigh. “I’d be pleased to make soup from the broth for our dinner tomorrow night, too, so you and Rhoda won’t have to cook after ya work in the café all day.”
Rhoda grinned. “An offer like that makes it sound like we’ve got live-in help! Livin’ like fancy folks, we are.”
“And if Miriam doesn’t mind,” Jerusalem suggested, “why not invite the boys to join us? Your turkey chowder’s their favorite—”
“And why not ask Preacher Tom, as well?” Nazareth suggested with a coy grin. “He’s gotta eat, too. And he must get mighty tired of his own company.”
Mamma chuckled as she gathered up the towels and dishrags to take home for the laundry. “If you’re doin’ the cookin’, you can feed whoever ya want, Nazareth.”
“And if ya simmer that soup tomorrow mornin’, we could take some to Hiram’s,” Jerusalem remarked. “Those kids’ll slurp that chowder right down. Anythin’ with cheese makes them line up like piggies at the trough.”
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