Breath of Spring (3 page)

Depressing. This place reeks of sorrow and unrealized dreams.
Adam pulled out the cans and boxes he’d picked up at Zook’s Market. “How about some pork and beans to go with that bacon?”

“Nothing I love better than a one-skillet meal,” Matthias replied. “What-all did ya bring home?”

With a shrug, Adam stuck the paper sack with the others that were crammed between the counter and the pantry cabinet. “Same ole same ole. Cold cereal, mac and cheese—and I saved you a couple of sticky buns Miriam was putting out when I was leaving the Sweet Seasons,” he added as he held up the flat white box.

“Thank the
gut
Lord for Miriam’s café—and maybe for the added attraction of Annie Mae workin’ there now,” Matthias teased. “I saw ya watchin’ every move she made this morning.”

“Your imagination’s working overtime,” Adam retorted. “Didn’t you have enough harness business to keep you busy today?”

“Matter of fact, I got a big order from an English fella who’s wantin’ tack for his six-horse hitch of Percherons,” his brother said smugly. “He wants all the shiny silver hardware on it, too, on account of how he competes at a lot of big shows.”

“Glad to hear it. What with Hiram moving away, I wondered how you’d make up for the business he gave you.” Adam was glad their topic of conversation had changed, and he wasn’t giving his brother another chance to come at him about Annie Mae. “So—what’d you think of the way Bram and Nate
and
Bishop Tom are all of a sudden connected to women? We single guys are a vanishing breed.”

Matthias dumped a can of beans into the skillet of crackling bacon and then doused the concoction with salt, pepper, and ketchup. “The Kanagy boys fell into a real sweet deal,” he replied. “Amos Coblentz’ll build them a fine home and the best barns for Bram’s auction business and Nate’s horse trainin’, too. Sounds like they’re set for the rest of their lives.”

Adam couldn’t miss the hint of envy . . . his brother’s assumption that nothing wonderful would ever happen to him again. It seemed that no matter what subject he brought up, their talk circled around to the misfortunes and tragedies of their past. And Adam was suddenly tired of it.

“I’m really happy for Tom,” Adam asserted as he pulled the last two clean plates from the cabinet. “I mean, who could’ve guessed that he’d become our new bishop
and
that Lettie would pass on
and
that Nazareth Hooley would be waiting for him, ready to be his wife?” he asked in a rising voice. “Maybe God’s trying to tell us that if Tom can start a whole new life—”

“Don’t let me stand in your way, Brother. You
go,
guy.”

When Matthias set the skillet on a towel in the center of the table, Adam bit back his immediate reaction to their main course. Strips of partially blackened bacon stuck out of the soupy beans, with little pockets of grease forming around them.

But what could he say? His brother had made supper and he had done the shopping . . . each of them filling in the blanks of their lives as best they could. They sat down across the table from each other and bowed their heads.

Lord . . . Lord . . . help me to be more grateful for what I have. And help me to move beyond it.

As Miriam took in the seventeen people gathered around her kitchen table, her heart filled to bursting. This being a Sunday when they didn’t have church, she’d invited all of Ben’s family and hers for a day of visiting, along with the Knepp girls. Even though it was snowing outside, laughter and sunshine filled her cheerful yellow kitchen, along with the aromas of the food everyone had brought to share.

As Ben passed her the platter of ham loaf, he leaned toward her with a glimmer in his eyes. “Honey-girl, if you’d’ve told me last year at this time that I’d be sittin’ at this table amongst all our family and friends, I couldn’t have believed it,” he whispered. “And I thank ya, Miriam, for bringin’ me into this fine life.”

Miriam tingled all over as Ben’s kiss teased at the rim of her ear. She set down the platter to grasp his hand. “No, Ben, it’s
me
who’s thankful,” she insisted. “Had ya not blown into my life during that storm—and then loved me, and then had this wonderful-
gut
home built for us—I couldn’t have
so
enjoyed every moment of these three weeks we’ve been married. You’re a gift from God, ya know it?”

As always happened when they focused on each other, the chatter around them—the whole rest of the world—faded away and it was just the two of them, lost in love. While her first marriage to Jesse Lantz had been a good, solid relationship, this union with Ben Hooley was taking Miriam beyond anything she’d ever anticipated, bringing her affection and tender devotion that made her as giddy as a girl again.

“A gift from God, eh?” Ben teased. “I’ll remind ya of that, come the first squabble we have.”

“Maybe we won’t have one.”

Ben’s laughter rang out in the crowded room. “Oh, Miriam, one of these days I
will
do somethin’ that sets ya off. I’m not nearly as perfect as you’re settin’ me up to be.”

“Truer words were never spoken!” Ben’s aunt Jerusalem crowed from farther down the table. “I could tell plenty of tales about how our Bennie tried my patience—and tormented his brothers and sisters whilst they were growin’ up.”

“But that was my job, as the firstborn,” Ben protested as he gestured toward Ira and Luke. “And look at these fellas
now,
gearin’ up to open their new gristmill on their own parcel of land. Where would they be without my wise counsel and guidance?”

“Runnin’ the roads of Lancaster County, doin’ as we please,” Ira piped up.

Miriam laughed. At twenty-eight, Ira was still unmarried and full of himself, but he had a talent for coaxing the locals to raise the trendy grains, cage-free chickens, and eggs that city dwellers demanded these days. “When do ya figure to open for business?” she asked. “Lots of folks in the café have been askin’ how you’ll get through the winter and the summer before your first harvest is brought in.”

Luke raised a serving spoon, indicating that she’d made a good point. Then he scooped up a huge second serving of Jerusalem’s macaroni and goat cheese. “We’ve received a big shipment of grains and dried corn from back East,” he replied, “and once we get them ground and bagged, we’ll be runnin’ ads. I figure, come warmer weather, folks hereabouts will be ready to discover us—and we’ll be ready for them.”

Rebecca, who was seated beside Miriam, joined in. “When you’ve got those grains bagged, Luke, I’ll post photos of them on your website,” she said. Then her face brightened. “And speaking of websites, I can’t wait to finish Andy’s! After his clinic on wheels arrives, I’ll post a picture of it, alongside a listing of the house call services he’ll offer.”

“Oh, but I’m ready for that!” Rachel declared as her hand fluttered to her abdomen. “Havin’ this first baby won’t be nearly so scary, now that we’ve got a nurse in Willow Ridge.”

Miriam smiled at her newlywed daughter, seated across the table beside her burly blond husband, Micah Brenneman. “You’re doin’ just fine, honey-bug. A little mornin’ sickness is part of the package, and you’ll soon be past it.” She leaned forward to look down the table then, to where Andy Leitner sat with his two kids, Taylor and Brett—with her daughter Rhoda smack in the middle of them. “Your new wagon’s arrivin’ soon, then?” she asked. “From the looks of things, your clinic building’s comin’ along, as well.”

Andy nodded, clearly excited about the skills and the new facilities he would bring to their little town. “The carriage maker in Cedar Creek is so excited about making his first rolling medical center, he bumped me up on his schedule,” Andy replied. “But the
best
news? I think I’ve sold my house in New Haven!”

Exclamations and applause filled the kitchen, and once again Miriam’s heart fluttered. Such a kind, warmhearted man, Andy Leitner was, with enough determination—and love for her daughter Rhoda—that he was letting go of his English life and possessions to become Amish.
Lord, once again I thank Ya that all things are workin’ to the good of those who love Ya . . . that my Rhoda has found a wonderful man and that my Rebecca’s computer trainin’ is helpin’ so many of us Plain folks attract the English customers who’ll help us prosper.

“My brothers and I will concentrate on your new place now—and just in time, it sounds like,” Micah remarked as he reached for the green beans. “I’m hopin’ Adam Wagler can put in some time with us, on account of how he’s best at all that finishin’ work—and he lives right down the road. We’ll fix up your livin’ quarters first, before we do your clinic and office.”

“We’ve . . . already started our . . . packing,” Andy’s mother said in her halting voice. Betty Leitner was recovering from a stroke, but wearing a Plain-style dress covered with bright red poppies, she radiated a courage and determination that inspired everyone around her. “Your Rhoda . . . is a godsend, when it comes to . . . tucking things into boxes and
. . .
convincing the kids to get rid of...
stuff!
”

Laughter filled the room again, as seven-year-old Brett grinned at his grandmother’s remark. “Yeah, Rhoda the Raccoon is pawing through all our toys and computer games,” he said. “I bet we’ve donated a hundred boxes to the homeless shelter in Warrensburg—”

“Maybe a dozen,” his older sister, Taylor, corrected quickly. “And Rhoda’s sewing us new Amish clothes for when we start at the one-room school, too. It’ll be a big change from the classes we’ve got now, but . . . but we really want to do this so she can be our new
mamm
.”

Miriam’s heart swelled again, and her eyes got wet. The two Leitner kids really had no idea how major the changes would be once they began living the Plain life, yet she knew Taylor and Brett would do
anything
for Rhoda. And Miriam was more than ready to welcome these two grandchildren, even before Andy completed what might be a lengthy transition period before he was baptized into the Amish church.
Yet another gift I’m so very grateful for, Lord . . .

Across the table from Miriam, Nellie Knepp laughed and elbowed Annie Mae. “It would
almost
be worth my stayin’ in school to watch Teacher Alberta when Taylor and Brett start comin’,” she said playfully. “But at the end of this term, I’m outta there.”

“You know,” Andy responded in a pensive tone, “I’ve been thinking the kids might adjust to their new Amish school more easily if we had them tutored or homeschooled after we move here. With Rhoda already so busy getting us settled, what would you think of becoming our teacher, Nellie?” he asked as the excitement rose in his voice. “We might be coming here sooner than we anticipated—”

“And havin’ an Amish gal teach ya
Deitsch
and other Plain ways would be a big help to all of ya,” Bishop Tom remarked. He was seated at the other end of the table, very interested—and invested—in the Leitners’ transformation of faith and lifestyle.

Nellie set down her fork. “I—I’ve never thought about bein’ a schoolmarm—”

“But you’d be so
gut
at that!” Annie Mae declared. “You’ve already been teachin’ our little brothers and sister Sara—”

“And ya have a steady head and a lovin’ heart,” Jerusalem chimed in. “After all the years Nazareth and I spent in the classroom, I can tell ya that kids need love and patience more than anything else in this world. The way I hear it, kids in English schools aren’t gettin’ nearly enough of that these days.”

“You are
so
right about that,” Andy said emphatically. “In my years as a teacher, before my nurse’s training, I became very concerned at the way parental support for teachers was disappearing—and about the level of commitment of some newer teachers.” Once again he focused on Nellie. “I know this is a spur-of-the-moment idea I’ve thrown at you, but if you’re interested, we’ll get the kids started with you as soon as we can on whatever schedule works for you.”

Miriam fell back against her chair, somewhat amazed at this development.
But then, why am I surprised, Lord? You’re here amongst us, workin’ out Your will.

Nellie was fiddling with her napkin, yet smiling shyly. “I’d
like
workin’ with your kids,” she murmured. “It might lead to becomin’ a teacher at the school someday. Can we talk about it soon?”

“Any time you’re ready,” Andy confirmed. “You folks here in Willow Ridge—the way you share so much of yourselves to help my family—are truly an inspiration.”

The group quieted for a moment. Forks scraped across plates and satisfied sighs confirmed that everyone had enjoyed the meal. Glancing at the desserts on the back counter, Nazareth cleared her throat. “You’ll want to try the hot fudge cake I pulled out of the oven before we came,” she hinted. “And Tom made ice cream to go with it.”

“The kids helped me bake the lime bars, too,” Rhoda said as she stood up to scrape their dirty plates. “When I told them we’d all bring food we made ahead of time, so we didn’t work on the Sabbath, cookies were the first thing they thought of.”

“You all’re lucky we had any left to bring,” Brett piped up.

Laughter and pleasant chatter filled the kitchen again, and as Miriam rose to clear the table she feasted her eyes, her soul, on the dear folks who surrounded her today. What a blessing, to have so many new connections and new developments as they moved out of January into February. As Ben had said, last winter she couldn’t have imagined the changes she would be witnessing in this new year—and best of all, she was watching her three daughters grow into fine young women.

Rachel, Rhoda, and Rebecca possessed different abilities, yet they were triplets in every sense of the word . . . even if Rebecca sported short hair, jeans, and a tie-dye hoodie today. How wonderful it was, that everyone in Willow Ridge accepted her girls even though two of them had chosen uncommon paths. Miriam felt especially indebted to Tom Hostetler for his open attitude—his willingness to consider nontraditional options for her family and for their community.

And it was Tom who struck up a new topic as they passed around Nazareth’s gooey cocoa cake along with a bucket of ice cream and a big plate of lime bars. “Along with all of these new situations we’ve been discussin’, our district needs to select a new preacher real soon,” he said. He looked at Andy as he went on to explain this. “Because I’ve become the bishop, that leaves only Gabe Glick as a preacher, and a district this size needs two. Truth be told, with his health deterio-ratin’ and with his Wilma needin’ more assistance, Gabe’s asked me to replace him as soon as we can.”

Everyone considered this as they took their first bites of dark chocolate cake and homemade ice cream. It occurred to Miriam that, except for Tom, she had been a member of the Willow Ridge district longer than anyone else in the room. “Gabe was a preacher when Jesse brought me here as a bride, more than twenty years ago,” she murmured. “While he’s supposed to have that job for life, we can’t argue about why he wants to let somebody younger and healthier take his place.”

“That’ll involve a process we call the fallin’ of the lot,” Tom continued—partly for the Leitner family’s benefit, and also because it had been so long since they’d chosen a new preacher. “At one of our after-church meetings, members will whisper the name of the fella they feel should be the new preacher—a married man, he has to be. Then the men who get mentioned the most will sit up front at a table. Out of their sight, I will have slipped a Bible verse into an
Ausbund
—our hymnal—and mixed that hymnal into a stack with the same number of books as we have men. Nobody—not even me—knows which book the verse is hidden in.”

As Andy, his kids, and his mother listened closely, Miriam ran the names of potential preachers through her mind. There weren’t but a handful eligible for the position.

“So if a preacher has to be married,” Andy said, his brow furrowed in thought, “how is it that you’ve been selected as the new bishop, Tom? I’m not meaning any disrespect, understand, but you’ve told me your wife left you, and then divorced you . . . and that she’s recently died.”

“I’m not takin’ it as disrespectful in the least. You’ve asked a pertinent question,” Tom replied quickly. “A lot of Amish leadership decisions depend on the other bishops in the area—and our situation’s more troublesome than usual, what with our previous bishop bein’ excommunicated. Jeremiah Shetler, Vernon Gingerich, and Enos Mullet all said right off that Willow Ridge needed a local preacher to fill the bishop’s position immediately, to keep our members united and strong in the faith after losin’ their leader under such . . . unfortunate circumstances.”

Andy nodded, as did most of the adults around the table. “I can see the wisdom of that. And the folks here couldn’t ask for a more levelheaded, compassionate leader than you, Tom.”

Their new bishop smiled, but then quickly resumed a more serious expression. “We see it as the will of God, this whole episode in our district’s story. If I’m the right man for the job, that’s the Lord’s doin’—just as we believe that the fella who picks the book with the verse in it has been chosen by God to be our new preacher.” Bishop Tom continued his previous explanation. “He comes to the service that mornin’ as an ordinary man, but when he leaves he’s a servant of the church. That means he’ll tend to our members’ needs—which includes tellin’ them when they’ve sinned and need to confess. He’ll start preachin’ sermons, and he’ll sacrifice time he would’ve been spendin’ on whatever work he normally does, and time with his family. He’ll serve us for the rest of his life. Without pay.”