“Can’t thank you enough for inviting me to visit, Tom.” He looked at the tall white house with its snow-covered roof . . . the large red dairy barn and its well-tended fences. “It’s a real gift to have time away now and again.”
“I don’t see nearly enough of ya these days, Vernon. It’s been more years than I care to count since the summer you and I worked that fella’s ranch in Nebraska.” Tom’s smile waxed nostalgic. “After all the manure we shoveled, it’s a wonder you ended up with a herd of Angus while I’m milkin’ all these Holsteins.”
Vernon laughed and clapped his friend on the back. “We were mighty full of ourselves at sixteen, weren’t we? But it seems to me we’ve both come a long way on the same path. And I see God’s hand at work here in Willow Ridge, too, with you becoming the bishop. Your patience and dedication will be real gifts to these folks.”
Tom sighed, stuffing his hands into his coat pockets. “Hope we’re not declarin’ our practicality as God’s will. The last thing I want is to fall into the same arrogance Hiram had.”
“That’ll never happen. Hiram’s cut from different cloth altogether.” Vernon saw movement in the kitchen window . . . a flash of deep red the color of the cardinal that sang in the nearby spruce tree. He took the cooler from behind the seat of his sleigh while Tom grabbed his suitcase. “So tell me how you came to have those two sisters keeping house for you. They’re quite a pair.”
As they started for the kitchen door, Tom’s cheeks took on a blush that had nothing to do with the frosty air. “When they walked out on Hiram—they were lookin’ after his youngest four kids, ya see—this seemed the most logical place for them and their goats to land, even though plenty of other folks offered to put them up. If ya have reservations about the way it looks, with me havin’ two maidels here—”
“The way it looks,” Vernon quipped quietly, “is that the situation has worked itself out well for all of you. Maybe more for you and Nazareth than for Jerusalem, eh?”
Tom grinned in spite of his concern. “She’s a fine woman, Vernon. And with the two of them being inseparable, I figured it for an honorable way to have a little companionship. This big old house gets lonely of an evening . . .”
They paused outside the door. “I know all about that,” Vernon murmured. “Not a day goes by that I don’t miss my Dorothea. And I couldn’t possibly keep up with my farm or tend to a bishop’s business if it weren’t for my aunts and my nephew living with me. A man’s not meant to do his life’s work alone, Tom.”
“Jah, well, my work was the last thing on Lettie’s mind when she left in that fancy fella’s car. But I’m tryin’ to put that behind me. Movin’ forward as best I can.”
“God’s will be done. It’ll all work out.”
As his friend opened the door into the kitchen, Vernon’s lips twitched. Why was he thinking—hoping—God had brought him to Willow Ridge today for more than counseling his longtime friend? Once again the aromas of beef soup and fresh bread wrapped around him like a blanket as he stepped into the kitchen where the Hooley sisters were redding up. He liked it that Jerusalem wore a holiday shade of red some Plain women would consider too showy, and that her eyes sought his as he stomped the snow from his boots. Dorothea would never have dressed or behaved so boldly . . .
“Unless I miss my guess, we’re in for quite a pile-up of that snow,” she remarked brightly. “Gut thing ya packed to stay over, Vernon.”
Was it wishful thinking on his part, or did Jerusalem seem awfully glad he hadn’t started for home? He held out the cooler so she could take it while he removed his boots. “I brought along a fresh brisket and some rib-eye steaks. My nephew Abner’s a butcher with a fine eye for the best cuts of my Angus, so I’ll put these toward my room and board.”
“Mighty generous of ya,” Tom remarked. “There was no need to cart your own dinner here—”
“But we’ll put this meat to real gut use, ain’t so, Sister?” Jerusalem added.
Nazareth’s face crinkled with mirth as she dried the dishes. “Saves us from takin’ something from Tom’s deep freeze and having to figure out the menu, I’ll say. And it’ll suit us just fine if ya stay until we’ve eaten every last bite of it, too, Vernon.”
“It’s unanimous, then. We’re all determined to enjoy the winter weather instead of fretting if the roads become impassible.” Vernon nodded, pleased with the way this visit was taking shape. “Let’s you and I bring in some firewood and get the hay mangers filled for your cows, Tom.”
“Gut idea. And we’ll park the plow blade in the stable, where it’s easy to hitch up after the snow stops.” Tom’s face reflected his gratitude . . . and maybe he, too, was imagining the potential for spending time sequestered from the rest of the world, with two very pleasant women for company. “We’ll be back in after the chorin’ and the milkin’, girls. Lookin’ forward to your company, once the work’s all done.”
As he and Tom went outside again, Vernon glowed with a special sense that these next days in Willow Ridge would set the tone for the New Year . . . and quite possibly his whole future. He stuck out his tongue to catch some snowflakes, laughing at the quick tingles of coldness. Times like these proved out the wisdom of growing older without fully growing up, didn’t they?
“Oh my, but these are wonderful-gut steaks, Sister,” Nazareth exclaimed as she unwrapped the white butcher paper. “And such a big brisket! Haven’t enjoyed fresh beef like this in a long while.”
“Awful nice of Vernon to bring it along,” Jerusalem agreed. “How about if we pair up some of the corn and lima beans in Tom’s freezer—”
“Jah, succotash sounds tasty,” Nazareth agreed, “and we could bake those last two acorn squashes in the root cellar. Tom’s got several jars of beets down there, too.”
“And we could cream that head of cabbage we brought. That sounds like enough sides to go with those steaks for tonight and for tomorrow, too, when we can bake that brisket real slow.” Jerusalem’s face glowed with a girlish flush. “Won’t have to spend all of our time in the kitchen that way.”
“Cook once and eat twice,” Nazareth quipped. “Always a fine plan, in my book.”
As she wiped off the countertops, Nazareth glanced at the butterscotch twists and pastries that remained from the men’s morning meeting. A batch of cinnamon swirl bread would be a nice addition for their breakfast tomorrow, and it was one of Tom’s favorites made up as French toast, too. When she shifted the stack of mail, a long white envelope dropped to the floor.
“Now I wonder what this could be, comin’ from an attorney?” she mused aloud. “I suspect Tom forgot all about it, what with the three bishops gettin’ here all at once.”
“He’s got a lot on his mind, for sure and for certain,” Jerusalem agreed. “I’m thinkin’ a fresh batch of our cinnamon swirl bread would be a nice favor to Tom, as he loves it so.”
Nazareth laughed. It had always been one of life’s little mysteries, the way she and her sister could pick up on each other’s thoughts. “You always know best, Sister,” she teased as she restacked the mail and then finished wiping the work surfaces. That letter was Tom’s business, not hers, and she didn’t want him to think she’d been snooping.
Even after all these years of living with Jerusalem, it was a treat to work in the kitchen with her older sister, for they didn’t need to chitchat to pass the time companionably. Jerusalem was paring apples, slicing them into a casserole dish with cinnamon and raisins, for a crisp, most likely. Nazareth tidied the front room then, placing the Nativity figurines Tom had carved on his worktable again. She sensed Vernon would enjoy seeing what his longtime friend did to pass the cold winter days and bring in some extra income.
A pounding on the front door made her scurry to open it. “My word, you fellas have cut quite a load of logs already,” she said as Tom and Vernon came inside with their loaded leather carriers.
“They say chopping wood warms you twice—when you cut it, and again when you burn it,” Vernon
replied as he followed Tom to the storage bin. “I was admiring this stove while we were meeting in here. It’s keeping the place toasty even with the wind kicking up.”
Tom’s smile looked a bit reticent. “Lettie ordered this stove from Lehman’s catalog. While I often shook my head over her preference for the most expensive model of everything we bought, I have to admit this soapstone stove holds enough wood to keep us warm all day long.” He deftly emptied his carrier so the logs fell into the woodbox without any bark or mess landing on the floor.
“Sometimes an initial investment repays us with longtime quality,” Vernon observed. “My Dorothea tended toward making do and erring on the frugal side, so I’ll soon have to replace some of the appliances she chose.”
As the men trundled back outside in their heavy boots and coats, Nazareth gazed pensively at the wood-burning stove. She had often considered it more elaborate and decorative than something Tom would have chosen himself; now she knew why. And how will Tom talk of your preferences? Will he think you make expensive requests? Or, since Lettie’s things are holding up so well, maybe you won’t even be choosing anything new . . .
And why was she daydreaming as though she would ever have any say over the way Tom’s home looked? Nazareth chuckled at herself and went back to the kitchen to help Jerusalem start their supper. No sense in wishing away her future, considering that Lettie would continue to be a part of Tom’s life even though she’d left him for another man.
By the time the two fellows shook the snow from their coats and stood their shovels against the wall of the mudroom, the dusk looked thick with flakes that blew almost horizontally. The kitchen felt cozy, however, as Jerusalem pulled her apple crisp from the oven and Nazareth popped two loaves of cinnamon swirl bread from their pans to finish cooling.
“We’ve got cocoa on the stove,” she said as the men entered the kitchen in their stocking feet. “Looks nasty outside.”
“Ah, but we won’t have to set foot out again until morning.” Vernon approached Jerusalem, inhaling the steam that rose from her pan of crisp. “And what a treat it will be to spend time getting to know you. Both of you,” he added with a quick smile at Nazareth. “Rather than get in your way, I’ll venture toward that rocking chair in the front room that looked like it might be a perfect fit for my long legs.”
“I’m all for that,” Tom replied. “We did a gut day’s work these past few hours, hustlin’ about to beat the storm. I appreciate your help with that, Vernon.”
“You’d have done the same for me, Tom.”
Nazareth was pleased at the way Vernon draped his arm around Tom’s shoulders for a moment. This bishop radiated an entirely different attitude than Hiram Knepp had, and if anyone needed a show of confidence and encouragement during these unsettled times in Willow Ridge, it was their gentle, hardworking preacher. “Dinner’s all but ready, Jerusalem. Let’s sit a spell with the fellas, shall we?”
“Ya don’t have to ask me twice.” Jerusalem quickly filled four mugs with the hot cocoa and picked up two of them.
Nazareth carried the other two mugs into the front room, secretly hoping she could share the love seat nearest the stove with Tom. Was that a bad idea with a guest in the house? Would Vernon remind them that their next bishop shouldn’t be paying attention to a woman who couldn’t become his wife? She handed Tom one of her mugs.
“And what have we here?” Vernon had paused beside the table at the window. He picked up a figure of Mary, who wore a shawl painted like a patchwork quilt. “These look like pieces from Nativity sets I’ve seen in some high-end catalogs, Tom. And you’ve been carving them?”
Tom sipped his cocoa, blushing a bit. “It’s something I do to pass the time. I figure they encourage folks to think more about Jesus’ birth instead of all the trim and tinsel so many English focus on.”
Vernon turned the figurine over in his hand and then leaned closer to study the other figures. “Can’t say as I’ve ever seen the Wise Men represented as Amish fellows with beards and hats. But I like it that they’ve brought the gifts of their labors—an ear of corn, a pail of milk, and a lamb—to offer the baby Jesus.”
Nazareth smiled at her sister as Jerusalem set a mug of cocoa where Vernon could reach it. It did her heart good to hear someone compliment Tom’s talent, even though it wasn’t the Plain way to be proud of one’s handiwork.
Tom shrugged, not quite comfortable with the bishop’s praise. “Truth be told, tourists snap up these sets as fast as I can make them because Amish crafts seem to be all the rage these days. I don’t do such a gut job of paintin’ on the details—”
“Humility suits you, Tom, but there’s no need to deny your God-given gift.” Vernon’s eyes sparkled as he gently ran his finger along the angel above the manger, who also wore a robe in a colorful quilt design. “I’ve never seen anything that so freshly presents the miracle of God’s gift to us. If this set’s not spoken for, I’d like to buy it.”
“Oh, but I’d be happy for you to have it, Vernon!”
“Nonsense.” The bishop held up his hand to stop Tom’s protest. “Your work has great worth, my friend. We all know how the extra cash comes in handy, considering that we preachers and bishops spend a great deal of time shepherding our flocks without compensation. Spiritual rewards are a gift from God, of course, but here on Earth we’re expected to pay our bills.”
Nazareth was grateful to the bishop for saying such a thing to Tom. Her sister was nodding her agreement.
“Nobody else makes sets quite like these,” Jerusalem said as she stood beside Vernon. She picked up the cow and the two fluffy, white sheep, smiling at their contented expressions. “Why, if you could carve me a set that included some goats, Tom, I just know the Knepp children would enjoy it. I worry about them,” she added softly, “seeing’s how Hiram’s busy starting up his new town. There’s nobody to look after those three little boys and Sara, now that Nazareth and I have walked away from them.”
Nazareth’s heart constricted with the same regret her sister had just expressed. “Jah, we had our differences with Hiram, but his kids are mighty special to us.”
“And we can pause for a moment, right here and now, to pray for them.”
To Nazareth’s surprise, Vernon grasped her hand and took Jerusalem’s as he bowed his head. Tom took her other hand, and as the four of them stood in reverent silence, lifting up their petition for Josh, Joey, Sara, and little Timmy, Nazareth felt a subtle power . . . a strength and purpose that was magnified by the way they had joined their hands and hearts.
Lord, I’m ever so grateful for Vernon’s presence . . . his guidance as we send our love and prayers to the Knepp kids . . . as we prepare Tom to lead Willow Ridge.
Vernon sighed serenely. “It’s a blessing to be here among you folks. A much-needed retreat for me, and a time of discovery, as well.” When he smiled at Jerusalem over the top of his cocoa mug, his eyes twinkled with mischief. “Might I suggest a game of Scrabble after dinner? My aunts and nephew aren’t as keen for board games as I am, so I rarely get to play.”
Nazareth giggled. “Oh, you’ve opened quite a can of worms there, Bishop, asking two old schoolteachers to play Scrabble!”
“Jah, I’ll take you on, Vernon,” Jerusalem replied without missing a beat. “It’s been too long since I enjoyed a game with somebody who plays it the way my sister and I do.”
“The perfect way to pass a snowy evening,” Tom agreed happily. “I probably haven’t had that game out since my kids married and left home.”
“We’d better fix that then,” Vernon asserted cheerfully. “Who says young people get to have all the fun?”
Chapter Three
Jerusalem felt as if bright, shiny bubbles were bouncing around in her chest. Vernon had indeed opened a fine can of worms by suggesting Scrabble, and she couldn’t wait to play. While she reminded herself that winning wasn’t the point—that it was an evening well spent if each of them played the best game they could—her fingers itche
d to arrange wooden letter tiles into long, high-point words.
“This is the best time we’ve had in a while,” Nazareth murmured. They stood side by side at the stove, stirring orange sauce into the sliced beets and adding blended flour, milk, and melted butter to the pan of boiled cabbage. “It’s been so long since we played board games!”
“Jah, our crochet club’s a gut way to visit with our female friends, but this!” Jerusalem glanced over her shoulder to be sure neither of the men was within earshot. “This feels like a double date, Sister!”
“Tom’s loving it, too. Haven’t seen him smile this way, well—since we came here in October.” Nazareth turned off the gas burner. “I’ll set these beets in the warming oven and start the butter sizzling for the steaks. My word, but we have a feast tonight!”
“In more ways than one.” As Jerusalem stirred the cabbage to keep the cream sauce from scorching, she glanced at the table. “I hope Tom won’t mind that we got out the better set of dishes and a linen tablecloth. Lettie left some nice things behind and it’s a shame not to use them.”
She set the lid on the pan of cabbage and took it off the heat. Though she’d been cooking and setting a pretty table since her teens, Jerusalem wanted this evening to stand out . . . wanted everything just so, even if neither of the fellows would care about the cloth napkins folded beside their china plates or the crease in the freshly ironed tablecloth that ran down the exact center of the table.
When she glanced into the front room, she smiled. It was indeed a blessing to see Tom Hostetler looking so relaxed, to hear his laughter as he and Vernon chatted. The past few months of Hiram’s duplicity had taken their toll on everyone in Willow Ridge, but Preacher Tom had borne the brunt of it. Some members had whispered of moving to other districts if Bishop Knepp didn’t cease his brash, controversial behavior. It was a relief to see the New Year as a fresh slate where they would write the community’s next chapter with a calmer, more compassionate leader in charge.
An Amish Country Christmas Page 15