“Wyatt, it’s so gut to see you—and Vanessa, we’re all so pleased you’ve joined us today! I’m Rebecca’s mamm, Miriam,” she said as she clasped Vanessa’s hands. “We’re a rowdy, noisy bunch at times, but you’ll not hear a cross word or see any signs of a mean streak among us.”
“Jah, Miriam told us we had to be on our best behavior today,” Luke called out from across the room.
“She threatened to withhold dessert if we didn’t play nice with you,” his brother Ira added.
Wyatt laughed along with everyone else, relieved to see some familiar faces in the largest kitchen he’d ever entered. As folks began taking seats at a table that filled the center of the room, Ben suggested that Wyatt sit to his right and that Vanessa could be between Miriam and Rebecca at his left.
“We’ll have a few moments of silent grace,” Ben told him. “Then we’ll pass the food and make the other introductions.”
“There’ll be a quiz at the end of dinner to see how many names you remember,” the dark-haired fellow sitting down beside him teased. “I’m Andy Leitner, Rhoda’s husband, and I know exactly what you’re going through today.”
The divorced English guy who turned Amish, Wyatt recalled as he bowed his head along with everyone else. If he can win this family’s acceptance and respect, I surely stand a chance.
As silence filled the kitchen, Wyatt was amazed that even the three babies he’d seen in carrier baskets on the floor near their mothers were absolutely quiet during the prayer. On a whim, he glanced across the table to enjoy the sight of Rebecca, who appeared downright angelic with her eyes closed and her head bowed—until she peered back at him and winked. Wyatt bit back a laugh, determined not to be the one who broke the prayerful silence.
“Amen,” Ben said as he raised his head. “Wyatt, we generally grab what’s in front of us and pass to the left. You’ll notice we put the sliced ham, potato salad, and grilled chicken near you so you’ll get a chance at them.”
“Jah, those Hooley brothers and my two kids have been known to clear a platter in a matter of seconds,” Andy remarked with a laugh. “Brett and Taylor, this is Wyatt McKenzie and his sister, Vanessa. The lady beside Taylor is my mom, Betty Leitner.”
As the kids and Betty greeted him, Wyatt noticed they were dressed in Amish attire, except that Betty wasn’t wearing a kapp covering her snow-white hair.
Brett focused on Wyatt, his eyes sparkling. “So is it true that those bandages on your face are where Rebecca threw a hot cobbler at you?” he asked mischievously.
Rhoda scolded the boy, but Wyatt had to chuckle as he touched the large bandages. “Yes, that’s how it happened,” he replied, winking at Rebecca. “We had a little misunderstanding—”
“But we’ve settled our differences,” Rebecca put in firmly. “And we’re happy that Wyatt’s sister, Vanessa, has come to visit with us today.”
“Vanessa’s the best sister ever, too,” Wyatt said as he smiled at the pretty little girl beside Brett. “I hope you and Taylor will grow up to be close friends, the way we have.”
As everyone nodded and kept passing bowls of food, Ira leaned forward to address Wyatt. “This beautiful lady is my wife, Millie,” he said, gesturing across the table. “You’ve probably not seen her around, as she spends a lot of time helping at her grandparents’ place.”
“Those would be the Glicks, our neighbors to the east,” Ben clarified. “Gabe and Wilma are Nora’s parents—”
“And Millie is my daughter,” Nora said as she put her arm around Millie’s shoulders. “Not that we resemble each other.”
Wyatt laughed. With her red hair and freckles, Millie was probably the spitting image of Nora when she’d been in her early twenties.
“Sometimes Tom and Vernon join us,” Ben put in, accepting the platter of ham from Wyatt. “They’re married to my two aunts, Nazareth and Jerusalem—but they’re visiting at Vernon’s place in Cedar Creek, because their district doesn’t have church today, either.”
“Our three-hour services are so long, we take a Sunday off between them to recuperate,” Ira explained with a laugh.
As he spooned potato salad onto his plate, Wyatt had so many names spinning in his head he was pretty sure he’d get them wrong until he got to know his new neighbors better. He was also thinking that half the people of Willow Ridge must be related to the Hooley family. It impressed him that the men at this table owned the local mill, the cabinet shop, the blacksmith service, and the clinic—and that Nora owned the town’s very successful consignment shop. He’d heard that Miriam had once operated the bakery café the Grill N Skillet had replaced, as well.
“Penny for your thoughts, Wyatt,” Ben said jovially. “But you can pass the chicken first.”
Had his thoughts been wandering? Wyatt noticed that, along with the grilled chicken, a bowl of sliced cantaloupe and a large tossed salad were awaiting his attention. “I was just realizing that I’m among some of the foremost CEOs of Willow Ridge—walking in tall cotton, as they’d put it in Lexington,” he said.
Down the table, Micah’s brow furrowed. “What’s a CEO?”
“It stands for ‘can’t eat onions’!” young Brett blurted out.
Wyatt laughed loudly. Considering that he’d spent most of his adult life vying for prizes and special honors, competing against other breeders to beat out their pedigreed horses at the track, it was refreshing to be in the company of breadwinners and businessmen who didn’t engage in such superficial, exclusive pursuits.
“A chief executive officer is the top dog of his company,” Wyatt explained, smiling at Brett.
“The CEOs I know from overseeing my late husband’s companies can be a stuffy bunch,” Vanessa remarked wryly. “They spend a lot of time sitting around big tables in fancy boardrooms in skyscraper penthouses, mostly deciding how to spend or invest other people’s money.”
“Hmm,” Ira said as he took a large serving of slaw. “I guess our mill is the tallest building in Willow Ridge, so the upper level—where Will lives now—must be the penthouse. We should charge more rent!”
“But the only money we spend is the income from selling our grains and the cage-free eggs the Riehls and our other farmers provide us,” Luke pointed out in a more serious tone. “If we go under, we won’t take anybody down with us.”
“No, but our farmers and suppliers would take a hit,” Ira pointed out softly.
“If you go under,” Nora teased, pointing her fork at her husband, “you will not be spending my money! But I would be happy to support you, dear.”
The men around the table chortled. “We Amish believe the family business is the backbone of a district’s economy,” Ben said as he buttered a fluffy dinner roll. “We Hooley brothers are a fine example of learning to diversify when there are too many sons in a family to survive on the family farm. I left home in my late twenties and roamed the Plain countryside as a farrier until I happened into Willow Ridge during a thunderstorm. Miriam felt sorry for me and married me last year, on New Year’s Day.”
“And before Nora set me straight last summer,” Luke continued, “I was a freewheeling single man who was a pretty fair farmer without a farm. Ira here—”
“Didn’t have two nickels to scrape together until Ben suggested Luke and I come to Willow Ridge,” Ira said with a wide smile. “We had no idea a gristmill that processes specialty grains would be such a huge success. We have fifteen area farmers raising popcorn and grains for us. And we’re planting a vineyard next spring on property we bought earlier this year.”
Wyatt took in all of these accomplishments, impressed that the Hooley brothers had prospered so quickly after they’d arrived in Willow Ridge. “Anybody in your family good with horses?” he asked on a sudden inspiration. “Seems to me you Hooleys have a real knack for relocating and establishing your businesses. Although I plan to live in Willow Ridge full-time, I really need a man who specializes in training the Belgians and Percherons I’ll be handling. They’re a lot different from Thoroughbreds.”
“Gut choices,” Ben said with a nod. “Around here, one fellow prefers a Belgian while his neighbor swears by a Percheron.”
Wyatt took a mouthful of creamy potato salad, savoring the bits of onion, celery, and hard-boiled egg that complemented the tender cubed potatoes. When he glanced up, he noticed that Luke and Ira were gazing at each other as though the same idea had occurred to each of them.
“Marcus,” Ira stated matter-of-factly.
“Jah, that would be our cousin Marcus from Bird-in-Hand—that’s out east, in Lancaster County,” Luke explained in a voice rising with excitement. “Now there’s a fellow who could train a horse to stand on its head, if you paid him enough.”
Ben’s hazel eyes lit up. “Marcus did some blacksmithing with me when he was a kid,” he said enthusiastically. “Handled the horses like a pro before he was even a teenager, but his true calling is training rather than farrier work. Last I heard, though, he’d jumped the fence and taken up with some English gal—”
“But we could call his cell phone and find out if he’d be interested in coming,” Luke said, gazing at Wyatt. His lips curved. “A fellow who’s jumped the fence has left the Amish faith, so some folks think he’s a lost soul and they want nothing to do with him unless he comes back to the fold. Marcus has a cell phone and a computer—all the modern stuff Amish folks aren’t supposed to own.”
Ira laughed. “But considering how Luke and I—and even Bennie—were way up in our twenties or early thirties before we stopped running around,” he put in, “there’s hope for Marcus. He must be about twenty by now, jah?”
Ben shrugged. “There were so many boys in Uncle Felty’s family, I could never remember who came when,” he admitted. “Since I’ve moved to Missouri, I’ve lost track of how old they all are. We’ve got nothing to lose by calling him, though.”
Wyatt felt a big smile on his face. He sensed he’d come to exactly the right place to seek help with his horses—and it couldn’t hurt that Marcus Hooley would answer to his older male kin if he came to Willow Ridge.
“Let’s talk to him after we take our time over this fabulous food,” he said, smiling at Miriam. “It would be a sin to hurry through this wonderful, home-cooked meal.”
Miriam waved him off, her cheeks turning a delicate shade of pink. “I know you English folks usually have a big hot meal on Sunday, so this isn’t much—”
“Don’t believe that,” Vanessa insisted. “Summer days were made for cold meals, and this one’s unlike any I’ve ever tasted. So many flavors and textures to enjoy.”
“We should probably invite you back sometime when Mamma fries chicken and makes biscuits and gravy to go with it,” Rebecca murmured playfully.
“You’re on!” Wyatt said before he even thought about it. He realized how comfortable he felt with these salt-of-the-earth people, and he was glad he wouldn’t just be an English stranger who’d built big barns and white plank fences up the hill from his Plain neighbors.
The meal proceeded at a leisurely pace, with all the platters and bowls being passed around again as everyone ate an amazing amount of food. Wyatt figured these folks kept fit by doing a lot of manual labor rather than depending on farm machinery or household appliances—yet he had no sense that they begrudged him such luxuries as his silk shirt, or the fact that he already owned two horse farms and was investing a huge amount of money to start up a third one.
During a lull in the conversation, Miriam gazed from Vanessa to Wyatt. “Not my intention to be nosy, understand,” she began, “but Rebecca mentioned that you two lost your parents when you were kids. I’m guessing your grandparents or an aunt or uncle’s family took you in?”
Wyatt watched his sister’s reaction to that question. He and Vanessa didn’t often discuss their difficult growing-up years—few of their friends in the breeding and racing business knew all the details of their past. When he met Vanessa’s gaze, her nod told him she felt comfortable enough around these Amish folks to answer Miriam’s question—and that she wanted Wyatt to do the talking.
“We were in a tricky situation,” Wyatt began in a pensive tone. “Our parents died when the small plane Dad was flying went down in the ocean—or that’s the best conclusion the adults in our lives could piece together,” he added softly. “Their bodies and the wreckage of Dad’s plane were never found.”
“Oh, my. I’m so sorry,” Rebecca whispered as she put her hand on Vanessa’s arm.
Vanessa sighed sadly. “We’d been staying with Mom’s sister Natalie while our parents were on their trip. We learned about their deaths when Aunt Natalie called a family meeting with Mom’s other sister, Patricia—as well as with Dad’s parents, whom we’d never met, because Dad was estranged from them.”
She looked down at her half-eaten dinner, as if she were reliving that horrendous day. “The adults sent Wyatt and me to the kitchen for a snack while they were deciding what to do about us,” she continued, shaking her head. “Somebody who thought we weren’t listening suggested that the plane didn’t really go down—and that our parents had conveniently disappeared to escape some legal and financial issues.”
Miriam’s eyebrows shot up. “Who would do such a thing—and leave behind their young children?” she murmured. “That’s unthinkable!”
“Does estranged mean your dat had no contact with his family?” Ben whispered in disbelief. “How does that sort of separation happen? Even though we Amish shun folks when they break the rules of our faith, we do all we can to encourage them back into the fold, to keep our families together.”
In the world Wyatt came from, such solidarity sounded like a fairy tale that was too good to be true. “I was about seven and Vanessa was only four when our parents died,” he explained, “so we don’t know all the details—”
“Our parents had never spoken about the McKenzie side of the family,” Vanessa put in firmly. “Our mom’s parents had passed away, and so we only knew about Aunt Natalie and Aunt Patricia—neither of whom wanted to raise two kids who’d put a crimp in their social lives,” she added a little bitterly. “The McKenzie grandparents claimed their health wouldn’t allow them to raise us. Not that they were interested in the kids of a son they’d apparently disowned.”
Everyone around the kitchen table had grown quiet with disbelief. Beside Wyatt, Andy wore a glum expression. “I’ve heard of similar situations on my ex-wife’s side of the family,” he said softly. “The self-interest of the wealthier siblings overrode the welfare of family members who really needed their help.”
Wyatt nodded. “Because our parents died without wills—and without naming anyone to become our guardian in the event of their passing,” he went on, “our aunts turned us over to a social service agency to be put into foster care. We really lucked out. Nelson and Suzanne Carneal, a childless couple in Lexington, fostered and then adopted us—”
“Which is how we came to be associated with the Thoroughbred breeding and racing world,” Vanessa said, continuing their story. “Our adoptive dad owned the farms in Saratoga Springs and Lexington, which had produced a few notable horses. Nelson groomed Wyatt to run the business from an early age, and Suzanne raised me with all the expectations and privileges that go with being a daughter of Southern society.” She smiled at the folks around the table, who were drinking in her story. “Considering what most foster kids endure, we landed in the lap of luxury with a couple who gave us every advantage as we grew up.”
“God was watching out for you,” Miriam murmured. “He knew what you—and the folks who took you in—needed to make your lives worthwhile and purposeful.”
Wyatt paused, considering her assessment. He suspected that many people in Willow Ridge would consider the world of horse breeding and racing excessive and extraneous because it was all for show. “I appreciate the gracious, optimistic way you phrased that, Miriam,” he said. “We’re not churchgoing people, but I’ve always believed that if Providence and the Carneals hadn’t stepped in, my sister and I might have
fallen through the cracks in the child welfare system.”
“Do you hear from your aunts or grandparents?” Ben asked. “Seems the least they could do would be to keep in touch, since they turned you away.”
Vanessa shook her head. “Wyatt and I have come to suspect that our original parents left a lot of debt, and that Mom’s sisters held it against us because they had to clean up the financial mess,” she explained. “We’ve lost all contact with them. The Carneals were older when they took us in, and they’re gone, too. So Wyatt’s all the family I have.”
Miriam’s dark eyes clouded over as she grasped Vanessa’s hand. “Well now,” she murmured, glancing toward Rebecca, “if my brother was all I had to call family, I’d hug him every chance I got.”
Wyatt saw a flicker of understanding on Rebecca’s fresh, clean face. It meant a lot that her mother was speaking about his and Vanessa’s relationship in such a positive way.
“The English world would be a better place if our society had passed along the values you Amish folks still hold sacred,” Wyatt observed with a sad smile. “In an earlier time, our families were our top priority, too, but that’s changed. It makes me sad and concerned about the sort of world we’re creating.”
“Jah, we Amish try real hard to keep our families close—physically and emotionally,” Ben said with a nod. “We don’t forbid the use of electricity just because it’s modern and convenient. We know the sorts of troubles and temptations that enter a home through televisions and the Internet, and we believe these devices distract us from having gut, solid relationships with our family and church members.”
“We Mennonites allow the use of technology,” Nora put in, “but we still believe in the core values that God and our families must be our first priorities. And we believe it’s our mission to assist our Amish neighbors with our computers and motorized vehicles and tools. We’re all in God’s world together.”
“And then there’s our cousin Marcus,” Ira said with a chuckle. “It’ll be interesting to see what he’s doing these days. Even as a kid, he resisted—resented—the yoke of Old Order beliefs.”
A Simple Wish Page 24