An Amish Country Christmas

by Hubbard, Charlotte; King, Naomi

  The back door slammed. The house rang with their rancor for several moments.

  “I’m mighty sorry for the way those girls came bargin’ in here, sayin’ such hateful things,” Tom murmured. “But I can see why they’d assume the worst about . . . what they saw.”

  “The timing was unfortunate,” Vernon agreed with a sigh. “But it’s often this way with adult children. They don’t want things to change at home after a parent passes, regardless of how the remaining parent needs comfort and companionship.”

  “And we sure can’t hold ya responsible for what your girls said,” Nazareth added as she slipped her hand into Tom’s. “It wasn’t what we wanted to hear, but there’s no gettin’ around what we were doin’ when they came in.”

  Tom let out a long sigh. “Couldn’t help but think how much like their mamm they are, jumpin’ on every little bug to peck at it,” he said sadly. “I’ve always been glad to have my preachin’ position as a gut reason not to go live with any of my kids after Lettie left.”

  “And you have your dairy herd, your livelihood,” Vernon pointed out. “Not to mention your home and property. You’re not nearly decrepit enough to need anyone’s assistance getting from one day to the next, Tom!”

  “Not by a long shot,” Nazareth added with a laugh.

  Relief and love washed over Tom as he gripped her slender hand. “Sometimes older eyes and slippin’ vision work in our favor, ain’t so? We can’t see our friends’ faults so clearly,” he remarked. “Even now that Lettie’s dead and gone, the four kids’ll have a hard time seein’ me as marriage material, so I hope folks around Willow Ridge will be happier that I’ve found Nazareth.”

  “Came all the way from Lancaster County to be with ya, Tom,” she replied quietly. “There’ll be no sendin’ me back now, kids or not.”

  Jerusalem chuckled. “Jah, your girls haven’t seen faith in action until they’ve been around us Hooley sisters. We’ve had a lot of practice at workin’ things through. God had His reasons for makin’ Willow Ridge look so gut to us, just like the nephews put their money toward a mill as soon as Bennie told them to come out here.”

  “And I, too, believe the Lord has been working out His purpose,” Vernon added as he slipped an arm around Jerusalem’s shoulders. “Just as I know He’ll show us the next best moves to make, and give us the words and the strength of soul to carry them out. The road won’t always be straight or smooth, but we’ll get where we’re supposed to go.”

  Tom nodded. “Those are gut words to see us toward Sunday, when everybody’ll hear a lot of news during the Members Meeting. Let’s hope folks think we’ve made the right decisions.”

  “Well, now—what do ya think of that? The sign on the gristmill door says Luke and Ira will return on Monday, or thereabouts.” Jerusalem raised her eyebrows at Nazareth. “Where do ya suppose they’ve gotten themselves off to? Their lane’s cleared, so they can’t have been outta town very long.”

  Tom flashed Vernon a knowing look. “No doubt in my mind it involves female companions. These young bucks have been scoutin’ around in lots of the nearby settlements, the way I hear it.”

  “And if they’re twenty-eight and thirty, they might be hard-pressed to find many Plain girls to date,” Vernon observed. “By that age, most of our young women have husbands and four or five children.”

  “Jah, here in Willow Ridge they’ve been seein’ girls who’re a lot younger—one of them bein’ Hiram’s eldest daughter.” Nazareth shrugged. “And Bennie and Miriam went to Bowling Green before the storm hit, to visit some of her brothers’ families.”

  “Makin’ the rounds as newlyweds, collectin’ their gifts, no doubt.” Tom walked past the buggy to look down the county highway. “The Sweet Seasons is closed for another week, I think. Which means the only place open is Zook’s Market.” He looked at Vernon, biting back a grin. “Looks like ya won’t be meetin’ any of the Hooley bunch just yet. Guess we might as well stock up on those groceries the girls were wantin’ and then figure out a way to entertain ourselves for a few more days.”

  The bishop scratched his snowy beard, pretending to think really hard. “Hmm . . . eating, and choring, and keeping these two ladies in line. Sounds like a full schedule to me.”

  “Can’t think of another thing we could possibly fit in,” Tom teased as they all climbed into the buggy again.

  “Puh!” Jerusalem followed her sister into the backseat, shaking her head at how their dinner plans had fallen through. But there was nothing to be done about the rest of their family being gone, so she and Nazareth would simply have to rely upon schoolteacher ingenuity to maintain a proper sense of decorum until Sunday. “Sounds like a gut time to get a couple of thousand-piece jigsaw puzzles, or—”

  “It’s perfect weather to crochet, Sister,” Nazareth remarked cheerfully. “We can get a few new skeins of yarn at Zook’s and have our own crochet club meeting. Fast as our fingers fly, we could make Vernon an afghan before he goes home.”

  Jerusalem cleared her throat, looking at Nazareth over the top of her glasses. “And what do ya suppose those two fellas in front of us will be doin’ with their fingers while we crochet? Idle hands are the Devil’s workshop, ain’t so?”

  Tom and Vernon laughed loudly as the carriage lurched forward on the snow-packed lane. Then the bishop turned to grin at her, his blue eyes a-twinkle. “Did I hear my name mentioned?” he teased. “While I would love nothing better than to sit beside you and whisper enticements while you crochet, Jerusalem, I have a project in mind, too. Tom can help me find materials for it after we drop you ladies off with the groceries.”

  “And I figure to be finishin’ that Nativity set so’s Vernon can take it back to Cedar Creek with him,” Tom said.

  Both fellows’ intentions sounded perfectly honorable, even if she detected an undertone of mischief in their voices. And if Vernon would be working on something . . . might it possibly be a little gift for her? Jerusalem looked out her window, smiling.

  Nazareth patted her gloved hand. “Boys will be boys,” she murmured. “And we’re just the women to handle them. Like the Gut Book says, we should pray without ceasing—and they won’t dare interrupt us at that, jah?”

  “‘Rejoice evermore. Pray without ceasing,’” Vernon took up the biblical thread. “And the apostle Paul had it right when he also told the Thessalonians to give thanks in everything because that’s God’s will in Jesus Christ for all of us. And I’m thankful for every moment I’m getting to spend with the three of you. Every moment.”

  A little thrill went through her, and Jerusalem realized she didn’t have to act so prickly . . . so spinsterish. Vernon Gingerich might be a flirt but he was also a devout servant of God. And with Tom becoming the next bishop of Willow Ridge, where could she and her sister find finer men with whom to spend the next few days?

  She relaxed then, considering the pattern she’d like to crochet for Vernon’s afghan . . . thinking there would be time for a few winks and kisses between now and Sunday, as well. If the four of them kept to their best intentions, what could anyone else say about how they’d been spending their time together?

  Chapter Eleven

  As Nazareth took her place on the pew bench Sunday morning, she gazed at the familiar faces on the men’s side of the big, extended front room in Daniel and Leah Kanagy’s home. Leah had mentioned that her sons were surprised to see the Hooley sisters dressed like men, helping to plow out Preacher Tom’s lane, but Nazareth had detected no sign of judgment on her face. Truth be told, most of the local gals suspected she and Tom were sweet on each other, and because they faulted Lettie for leaving a hardworking, dedicated man, none of them had ever pointed a finger at her. But the men’s reactions might be sharper . . . especially when they learned Tom was the only real candidate for Willow Ridge’s next bishop.

  “Don’t see hide nor hair of Sarah or Lavinia,” Jerusalem whispered as the big roomful of folks got quiet. “Maybe they’ve changed their tune.”

&
nbsp; “I can’t think they’re givin’ it up that easy. But it would be nice if Tom didn’t have to put up with their negative attitudes today,” Nazareth replied.

  Tom, Vernon, Jeremiah Shetler, and Deacon Reuben Reihl came to the center of the room to sit on their bench, looking serene and ready to worship. The four of them made an impressive sight as they stood together in their black mutze coats and trousers, wearing crisp white shirts. As one of the men in the crowd sang out the first note of the opening hymn, these leaders removed their broad-brimmed hats in one smooth motion. Nazareth allowed these rituals and the slow, steady rhythm of the ancient song to settle her heart . . . prepare her soul for what would be a momentous day. She’d slept little the night before, wondering how the details would play out—

  As Preacher Tom and the bishops were leaving for an upstairs room to decide who would deliver the sermons today, the door behind the men’s side swooshed open. When the two latecomers took their places in the back row, Nazareth knew right off that they were Tom’s sons, just as she didn’t have to look over her shoulder when the door in the kitchen banged. The shifting and murmuring behind her meant that Sarah and Lavinia had arrived, as well, and were already causing a stir.

  But it’s up to You now, Lord, she prayed while the others continued singing around her. Help us all to see Your light shinin’ in this tricky situation. I’m thankful You already know how it’s going to turn out.

  The service proceeded at its usual unhurried pace. Tom preached the first sermon, about how Joseph heeded the angel’s warning to flee to Egypt so Herod wouldn’t find and kill the baby Jesus. Even though Tom had admitted to a case of the jitters over breakfast, he seemed relaxed . . . spoke the words from his heart, about how all who follow God benefit from truly listening to Him rather than thinking their own ideas are best.

  After a prayer and the scripture reading, Vernon rose to give the second, longer sermon. Nazareth noticed how folks sat up straighter to listen to his resonant voice, his authoritative way with words. While everyone had greeted him before the service—knew who he was and why he’d come from Cedar Creek—it was a treat to hear the Word proclaimed in a different style, with the insights this visiting bishop provided.

  Beside Nazareth, Jerusalem leaned forward to linger over every word Vernon delivered. Her sister’s feelings were written all over her face . . . a face Nazareth might not see much in the future, if Jerusalem took up with this man from partway across the state. But that was for God to decide, as well. Nazareth patted her sister’s hand and Jerusalem beamed at her. It was easy to tell yet again, from the tone and sincerity that rang around the room as Vernon spoke, that he was nothing at all like Hiram Knepp. Such a comfort it was, to believe Jerusalem had at last found a man worthy of her . . . just as Nazareth herself had.

  Finally, after the last hymn and the benediction, Jeremiah Shetler, the bishop from Morning Star, called a Members Meeting. The children and those who weren’t baptized members left the room.

  “I think you’ve all heard this news,” Jeremiah began, “but we’ve received word that Preacher Gabe had to take his Wilma to the emergency room again last night. And while we hold the Glick family up in our prayers, Gabe’s situation leads us directly into the discussion about who shall become the next bishop for your congregation.”

  Kapps bobbed around Nazareth and everyone sat forward to follow this vital line of discussion. The men, too, focused intently on Jeremiah, and when he reminded them that only ordained preachers were eligible for the more elevated post of bishop, Henry Zook raised his hand.

  “Most of the talk amongst folks at the store has been about how, with Preacher Gabe not feeling so gut and having to constantly watch out for his wife,” he said, “it’s probably best to figure on Tom being our new bishop, and then choosing two new preachers.”

  Nazareth exchanged a relieved look with her sister. The storekeeper had just made this whole process a lot easier. It sounded better—stronger—when a mainstay of the Willow Ridge community made such a suggestion. The men were nodding, murmuring among themselves when Vernon raised his hand for silence.

  “Selecting a bishop is the most important decision a congregation makes, and we usually rely upon the falling of the lot as God’s way of choosing that man for us,” he said as he looked around the huge, crowded room. “It’s practical—expedient—to select Tom Hostetler and then vote on him, but we shouldn’t presume to take this process into our own hands. Does anyone have further discussion? Or objections? Speak now, brothers and sisters.”

  Whispering filled the room, like the buzz of Leah Kanagy’s bees. After a few moments, Miriam Lantz Hooley spoke up. She looked radiant, as a newlywed, and appeared rested after her time away from running her restaurant. “I think everyone agrees that without Tom Hostetler’s calm wisdom and solid faith, Willow Ridge might’ve been torn apart by some of Hiram’s finaglin’ and—”

  “Jah, if Hiram hadn’t left town, I would have,” Reuben Reihl said.

  The room got quiet. If their deacon, who managed the church’s money and read their scriptures at each service, had been ready to find a new district, this was a serious situation, indeed.

  “Tom was the fella who convinced me to stay, saying that God had a bigger plan for Willow Ridge, if I’d just be patient,” the burly redhead went on. “And Tom wasn’t afraid to put Hiram in his place when he got out of hand, pestering Miriam about marrying him. So Tom’s the man I want for my bishop.”

  Nazareth’s heart swelled with a wonderful sense that everyone here would be in agreement . . . and this was her Tom they were all talking about! Again the women around her nodded and whispered—until a fellow in the back of the men’s section stood up.

  “I feel it’s my Christian duty to let you folks know of some questionable activities we’ve learned about,” he said.

  Everyone got quiet. The men turned and the women craned their necks to see who was speaking. Nazareth’s insides tightened: it was one of Tom’s sons. And then his brother stood up beside him. “Jah, we hate to rain on your parade, but—”

  “I don’t believe we’ve met,” Jeremiah Shetler interrupted. “Do you folks live in this district?”

  “Those are my sons, Rudy and Pete,” Tom said quietly. “They’re carriage makers, over past New Haven.”

  “I would like to express my sincerest condolences on the passing of your mother,” Vernon interjected as he placed a hand on Tom’s shoulder. He looked over the roomful of people, who had sucked in a collective breath at this news. “It would be a difficult subject for Tom to bring up, so I will tell you folks that Lettie was killed in a car accident a while back. Tom and his children just got word a few days ago.”

  An “ohhhh” passed quickly through the crowd, before another voice—this time behind Nazareth—began to speak.

  “Jah, we no more than got word about our mamm’s death, than we went to check on Dat and found him sitting real close and cozy to another woman. Nazareth, her name was.”

  “Snowed in, they were—with you, Vernon Gingerich, and another gal with an outlandish name,” her sister chimed in. “So we could pretty much guess what-all had been going on in Dat’s house for oh, several days, no doubt!”

  Another “ohhhh!” rippled through the room, louder this time. Nazareth felt her cheeks go hot as Jerusalem gripped her hand. Her heart pounded. How would these folks react to that? How would this information influence everyone’s opinions of Tom’s suitability? Especially considering that she and Jerusalem had just come to Willow Ridge in October.

  “These are my daughters, Sarah and Lavinia, and they live over near the boys with their husbands and families,” Tom explained to Bishop Shetler. Then he turned to look directly at the young women who had spoken out against him. “I’m glad you’ve joined us today, girls. It’s been a long while since I’ve seen all four of my kids in the same place at the same time. And it’s gut to see the four of you in church, even if you didn’t bring your families.”

  Naz
areth’s eyes widened. Was Tom implying that his children didn’t get along? That they didn’t always attend services? And why in the world had they come without their spouses and kids? Even so, she sensed that Tom was no longer nervous about this ruckus his children were making . . . as though he had been praying about the possibility of such a scene. And God had surely been listening.

  “Let us bow for a moment of prayer,” Jeremiah intoned. “We should not only ask the Lord to comfort Tom and his family, but we must pray for Lettie’s soul—as we would pray for anyone who has left the church and thereby offended God by breaking the vows they made to Him.”

  As Nazareth bowed her head, she glanced at Jerusalem, who was holding her fist on her lap with a thumb pointed up. Nazareth nodded. Between Jeremiah and Vernon, the two bishops had indeed let the steam out of a pot that had been ready to boil over. Tom was in good hands, among close friends. After a few moments, while only the shifting of bodies on the pew benches punctuated the silence, Vernon cleared his throat.

  “I would be remiss not to address the concerns Preacher Tom’s children have come so far to point out to us,” he said. As he waited for folks to raise their heads from praying, Cedar Creek’s bishop gazed at each of Tom’s children in turn. “It was true, what Sarah and Lavinia said. They came to Tom’s house a few days ago and found their father seated beside Nazareth Hooley in the front room, while her sister Jerusalem and I were playing Scrabble at the table by the front window,” he recounted calmly. “You folks have been to services in Tom’s home, so you all understand exactly where we were when his daughters came in through the kitchen and found us this way.”

  Kapps and beards bobbed around the room.

  “This was after the meeting Enos Mullet and I came to Tom’s house for? After the big snowstorm hit?” Jeremiah asked.

  “Yes, it was. While you and Enos drove home ahead of the snowstorm, I had already decided to remain in Willow Ridge to visit with Tom, who’s an old friend from when we were growing up,” Vernon replied. Then he smiled, his face radiating his mirth. “You folks who know the Hooley sisters will understand why Tom invited them to be his hostesses, and you can imagine the wonderful meals they prepared while we bishops met with Tom. They also joined us outdoors to clear the snow from the lane to the road, as the Kanagy’s sons can attest.”