The Christmas Cradle

by Charlotte Hubbard

  Lena’s fork clattered to her plate. She wrapped her arms around her bulging middle, hanging her head. “Jah, there’s no going back,” she murmured. “My folks and Aunt Clara warned me—told me this situation sounded awfully chancy—”

  “You could’ve stayed in Iowa,” Josiah muttered.

  “—but I wanted the baby to be with its father,” Lena continued sadly. “So Dat told me not to come home. ‘I’ve made my bed, so I’m to lie in it,’ he said.”

  Miriam set the skillet down and gently grasped Lena’s shaking shoulders. “A nice warm bed is exactly what ya need right now, too,” she murmured. “You’ve both had a hard day. Things’ll look clearer to ya after a night’s rest.”

  A sob escaped the girl. “I—I didn’t mean to cause you so much trouble.”

  “Oh, honey-bug, you’re no trouble at all,” Miriam insisted as she massaged Lena’s back. “We’d be doin’ ya both wrong if we didn’t give ya a place to stay on such a snowy night.”

  “And we want ya to know that things might not be the way they seem, far as what’s happenin’ in Higher Ground,” Ben insisted. “God might’ve had His reasons for slowin’ ya down, bringing ya to Willow Ridge instead. I’ll shoe your horse first thing tomorrow, and then ya can decide for yourselves, all right?”

  Josiah cleared his throat as though he intended to challenge Ben’s opinion, but then he shrugged. “Sure, why not? We’re at your mercy until my horse is fit to travel, ain’t so?”

  Miriam met her husband’s gaze over the top of Lena’s head. She and Ben were no strangers to such an attitude, after helping Ben’s two younger brothers establish a milling business over the past year while convincing them to join the church and accept adult responsibilities. Luke and Ira were now both engaged and following paths of faith, however, so there was hope and help for Josiah—if he would accept it.

  “How about if I get ya settled in the dawdi haus?” Miriam asked Lena. “Ben can show Josiah his room upstairs—”

  “And I’ll bring in Lena’s suitcase,” Ben insisted, “because neither of you girls should be totin’ anything heavier than those precious lives you’re carryin’. I’ll be back in a few.”

  “But I feel bad about accepting your hospitality without repaying you,” Lena protested. “After the way you’ve fed us and taken us in, it’s only right to give you some money or help out somehow.”

  “Tell ya what,” Miriam suggested as she watched the weary girl rise from her chair. “If either of ya wants to help in the Sweet Seasons tomorrow, that’ll be fine. That’s my café across the road, and I’ll be bakin’ in the wee hours while you two should be gettin’ your rest. You’re welcome to eat your breakfast there while ya figure out what ya want to do next.”

  “Denki so much,” Lena murmured as she and Miriam entered the hallway at the back of the house. “Sleeping late sounds heavenly.”

  Miriam opened the door to the small apartment she and Ben would share when they were too old to climb the stairs anymore. As she closed the curtains in the sitting room and the bedroom, she glanced out the windows into a cold, crisp night. Only a few snowflakes drifted in the air now. In the glow of the moon, the snow-covered hills and rooftops took on a make-believe quality—but the couple she and Ben had welcomed into their home were dealing with more reality than they seemed to be aware of.

  “Not meanin’ to be a busybody,” Miriam murmured as she put fresh towels in the bathroom, “but if you and Josiah aren’t married—”

  “Jah, you got that right,” the girl said with a sigh.

  “—then ya want to be sure you’ve got a place to stay and folks nearby who can help ya when your wee one’s born,” Miriam continued earnestly. “If Josiah seems set on cookin’ in Higher Ground—even if ya get the feelin’ that’s not a gut idea—you can stay with us, Lena. All right?”

  Lena landed heavily on the edge of the double bed. “Miriam, you don’t have to—I’m sticking with Josiah, even if it seems we’re at odds,” she insisted. “He’ll come around once the baby’s born. He’s angry now because we lost our way in the snowstorm.”

  Miriam smiled. She knew all about young girls falling head over heels in love and not seeing their men’s flaws. “How old are ya, Lena?”

  “Eighteen. Josiah’s twenty-one, though,” she added quickly. “And he really is a wonderful-gut cook, when it comes to roasting hogs and grilling all kinds of meat. He’ll make a go of it at the supper club. Really he will.”

  Miriam wished she could believe that Hiram’s job offer was the solid opportunity this young couple needed it to be. This late in the evening, however, it was best to keep her doubts to herself.

  “My daughter Rebecca stayed here for a while,” Miriam murmured as she glanced around to see if anything else needed doing. “She was raised in an English family—a long story—but now she’s livin’ in the apartment above Ben’s smithy and helpin’ at the Sweet Seasons and the Willow Ridge clinic while she runs her computer design business.” Miriam smiled at the thought of her three dear girls, grown and living purposeful lives now. “My daughter Rhoda just married the nurse fella who runs the clinic, and my other girl, Rachel, lives across the road with her husband and their new baby. If Ben and I aren’t around, any of those girls’ll be happy to help ya.”

  “This is so nice of you,” Lena murmured. “More than I deserve.”

  Miriam grasped the young woman’s shoulders, gazing into her pale blue eyes. “Don’t ya be thinkin’ that way, child,” she insisted. “God’s lookin’ after ya because ya do deserve a gut life for yourself and your wee one. If ya settle for less, I’ll be mighty disappointed in ya.”

  Lena’s eye’s widened, but then she smiled tiredly. “I’ll keep that in mind, Miriam. He steered us toward you and Ben tonight, after all.”

  Satisfied with that response, Miriam turned toward the door. “I don’t want to see ya until you’ve gotten a gut night’s rest, hear me?”

  “Loud and clear. Denki ever so much for not casting me out like—well, never mind,” the girl murmured. “I’m grateful.”

  Miriam closed the dawdi haus door, shaking her head. She had a feeling Lena’s parents and her aunt Clara had reached the end of their ropes, dealing with an unwed pregnancy and the brash young man who’d caused it. While Amish parents often sent their unmarried pregnant daughters to stay with relatives in another town, Miriam had never understood how mothers could turn their backs on young girls at the neediest time of their lives. Then again, it was the man of the house who made the rules about this situation, so Lena’s mother might’ve been bound by his decision.

  But Lena was now dependent upon a young fellow who seemed unaware of her impending responsibilities, or of how a few reckless moments of passion had cost Lena her family’s support. She must be feeling terribly desperate and alone, facing the birth of her baby among folks she didn’t know.

  Show me what we can do for these young people, Lord. You know how I can’t bear to watch Your lost lambs suffer.

  Chapter Two

  Very early Saturday morning Ben entered the Sweet Seasons kitchen and went immediately to the oven, where Miriam was pulling out a large pan of cinnamon rolls. “Are ya supposed to be liftin’ this much weight?” he asked as he took the pan from her. “Yesterday Andy reminded me—again—that ya need to find help if you’re gonna keep workin’. And it would be better if ya weren’t workin’,” he added emphatically.

  As he set the hot pan on a cooling rack, Miriam sighed. “I’m not helpless, Ben,” she insisted. “What would I do with myself if I weren’t in this kitchen? It’s another month and a half until the baby comes—and it’s not like I haven’t given birth before.”

  Although Old Order wives weren’t to work outside the home, Miriam’s dedication to her café was one of the reasons he loved her, so Ben spoke more gently. “I’m lookin’ after ya, followin’ Andy’s orders,” he replied. He kissed her, caressing the bulge of her sweet belly where their baby was kicking. “Plant your backsid
e on that stool. What else can I do for ya?”

  “For starters, you can tell me what you’re doin’ here so early of a Saturday morning, Mr. Hooley,” she teased. She perched on the tall stool beside the counter to mix the powdered sugar in her big glass measuring cup with milk. As she drizzled the white frosting over the hot rolls, Ben’s stomach rumbled so loudly they both laughed.

  “I came to see if my woman would feed me something before I shoe Josiah’s mare,” Ben said, following every hypnotic swirl of the frosting as it soaked into the warm rolls.

  “Puh. You didn’t sleep any better than I did last night for thinkin’ about those kids.”

  Ben smiled. His wife of ten months had figured him out long ago, so it was useless to refute her. “It’s that supper club that’s got me wonderin’,” he muttered. “Considerin’ how Higher Ground’s not nearly as big as Willow Ridge—and it has a diner already—how do ya suppose a second restaurant’ll survive?”

  “And what on earth is a supper club?” Miriam eased one of the fresh rolls from the corner of the pan. “It sounds like a place that might have members, so only certain folks would be goin’ there to eat. But what do I know?”

  When she’d laid the fresh cinnamon roll on a piece of paper towel and placed it in front of him, Ben kissed her loudly on the cheek. “Well, girlie, ya know how to make the best food a fella ever sank his teeth into, and ya make my heart dance. What else matters, really?”

  The roses bloomed in Miriam’s face. “Oh, Ben, ya say the sweetest things.”

  “Just statin’ the facts,” he replied as he uncoiled the outer layer of the roll. “I love ya more than I ever thought possible, honey-girl. Share this with me, will ya? We don’t want ya gettin’ puny from workin’ so hard.”

  When he held the first bite in front of her mouth, Miriam let her lips linger on his fingers. “Puny,” she echoed as she patted her girth. “The only time I’ve been this huge is when I was carryin’ the triplets.”

  Ben tucked in the brown hair that had loosened beneath Miriam’s kapp, loving the strands of silver that glimmered there. “Denki for havin’ my baby,” he whispered. “I’m so excited and—and scared about raisin’ a wee one. Especially since ya thought ya weren’t able to conceive.”

  Miriam’s eyebrow arched. “Scared? You, Ben?”

  He savored the warm pastry’s cinnamon sweetness while he thought of a reply. “What if I’m no gut at bein’ a dat? What if—”

  “You, Ben Hooley, will be a father other fellas could take lessons from,” Miriam insisted. “Fellas like Josiah, for starters. Now his child I worry about. And what’ll become of Lena if Josiah goes his own way without marryin’ her?” she asked in a rising voice. “She’s only eighteen, and with her family sendin’ her away—”

  Ben grasped Miriam’s shoulders. “Don’t let those young folks drag ya down into their muck, honey-bunch. Our church district excommunicated Hiram so we’d be finished with his deceit,” he reminded her. “How do we know he’s not figurin’ to suck us all in again with his harebrained supper club idea?”

  Her mouth formed an O and no sound came out. Miriam looked so pretty, with her fuller face and rosy cheeks, Ben wished they didn’t have to think about the man who’d supposedly hired Josiah.

  “I suppose that’s a far-fetched idea, considerin’ how Hiram couldn’t have known Josiah would be waylaid in Willow Ridge,” he admitted. “But let’s don’t forget about him. We can’t guess what he has in mind for Josiah’s cookin’, and I suspect he doesn’t know anything about Lena or the baby.”

  “Oh, let’s hope Hiram won’t get ideas about her,” Miriam rasped. “Now that Delilah’s left him, he’ll be huntin’ for more female company.” She sighed deeply. “We really do need to look out for those kids, Ben. They have no idea—but there I go, gettin’ involved, doin’ exactly what ya just told me not to.”

  “Can’t fault ya for havin’ their best interests at heart.” Ben closed his eyes over another bite of the warm, gooey roll. “Let’s stick together far as how we’re gonna help Lena and Josiah, all right?”

  “Jah. United we stand, and divided we might fall into that muck ya mentioned.” Miriam slid off her stool. “I’ve got biscuits and chocolate bread to bake before Naomi and the girls get here. Then I’ll have plenty of helpers makin’ sure I don’t overdo it,” she added with a playful smile.

  “You’re tellin’ me to get on with my work so you can do yours,” Ben teased. “I’ll check in later—and I’ll let Bishop Tom and the other fellas know Josiah’s lookin’ for steady work. I love ya, Miriam.”

  “Love ya right back, Bennie-bug,” she whispered. “What would I do without ya?”

  As Ben headed toward the smithy next door, he was thankful he didn’t have to do without his beautiful, compassionate wife, either. Nobody was more kind-hearted than his Miriam—which was why he had to protect her. She was more vulnerable to her emotions these days, more likely to say and do things before she thought them through. She believed she was fully capable of handling this birth, just as she’d done when her triplets were born twenty-two years ago.

  But Miriam was over forty now—and a grandmother, as well. She had a lot of wonderful, motherly concerns these days as her daughter Rachel cared for little Amelia, and Ben was determined that she would bear his child without getting caught in Hiram Knepp’s web of lies and deceit again.

  When he passed the workbench, Ben rocked the wooden cradle he’d made, imagining the sweet child who would soon sleep in it. Such dreams he had for this baby, such hopes and aspirations as Christmas and Miriam’s due date grew near.

  All is calm, all is bright.

  As Ben hammered the glowing-hot horseshoe for Josiah’s mare, he hummed the beloved carol those words had come from. His life was so much more blessed than he could possibly have imagined last year at this time when, as a newcomer to Willow Ridge, he’d first met Miriam. No two ways about it, she’d transformed his life, his faith. She was nothing short of a miracle worker.

  Lena’s going to drag you down. You’ve got to move on—without her.

  Josiah sat in the back corner of the Sweet Seasons, devouring the plateful of food he’d gotten from the steam table. He’d heard Miriam and Ben stirring at an insanely early hour, so he’d arrived at six when the café had opened. Through the window of Ben’s smithy, he’d seen the forge fire glowing. With any luck, Dolly would have her new shoe and he could roll out of town before Lena showed up—which would save a lot of explaining on his part and crying on hers. Lord, but he was tired of her crying!

  But what if the Hooleys have told you the truth? What if you get to Higher Ground and there’s no sign of a supper club? Should you get the whole story from Knepp or keep on driving?

  His older sister Savilla had suggested that he look around Higher Ground before he committed to living in Missouri, but Josiah had seen Knepp’s offer as his ticket out of a dicey situation with Lena. Never had he figured that a quick coupling in the hayloft would have such consequences—but he hadn’t exactly been thinking when Lena’s kisses had taken him over the edge all those months ago. He hadn’t planned to bring Lena to Missouri, either, yet he couldn’t resist seeing her one last time—and once again he’d fallen for Lena’s expressive eyes and her persuasive voice when she’d insisted on coming with him. So here they were.

  Josiah stopped eating in such a hurry so he could really taste his slice of chocolate bread. It was moist and spicy-sweet and fabulous, loaded with apple and walnut chunks and chocolate chips. The breakfast casserole was a savory blend of sausage, bread, onions, and melting cheese, and the fried apples tickled his tongue with cinnamon rather than being overloaded with butter and sugar. The happy chatter of Miriam and the two Brenneman gals in the kitchen suggested a love for their work—and for each other—that he suddenly envied.

  “Want me to top off your coffee?”

  “How about another round at the breakfast buffet? It’s one price for all ya can eat.”

  Jo
siah came out of his musings to look at the two young women standing beside his table. Their smiling faces were identical, yet one was dressed Plain and the other wore jeans and a plaid flannel shirt. “I—sorry, I don’t mean to stare,” he stammered, “but you two could be sisters.”

  “We are!” the one in the deep green cape dress proclaimed. “I’m Rhoda—”

  “And I’m Rebecca,” the waitress in jeans joined in as she slung her arm around Rhoda’s shoulders. “We’re Miriam’s girls—”

  “And with our sister Rachel, we make triplets!” her look-alike clarified.

  “I was washed down the river when I was a toddler and raised by the English couple who rescued me,” Rebecca explained, “while my two sisters grew up here in Willow Ridge. You must be Lena’s man.”

  Lena’s man. Josiah didn’t want to discuss that label, so he kept to his original subject. “That’s an incredible story about you three sisters—and this is incredibly gut food, too. I’m almost finished, though,” he added, waving away Rebecca’s coffee carafe. “As soon as Ben’s got my mare shod, I’m hitting the road.”

  Rebecca glanced around at the handful of other fellows who’d come in to eat. “Mamma mentioned your offer from Hiram,” she murmured near his ear. “I did a Google search for Higher Ground, but I’ve found nothing about a supper club. Be really careful, Josiah,” she insisted. “Hiram Knepp’s brought on so much trouble around here that—well, I hope he’s not telling pretty tales to lure you to his new colony.”

  “Jah, he’s caused us all more problems—Mamma especially—than we care to recall,” Rhoda added with a shake of her head. “You and Lena would be better off stayin’ in Willow Ridge—not that we’re tellin’ ya what to do,” she added quickly.

  Josiah’s pulse pounded. He had no idea what a Google search was, but if English Rebecca and Amish Rhoda were giving him such dire warnings about Knepp . . .

  Josiah sighed. He’d traveled a long way with high hopes, so he didn’t want to write off that supper club job without checking it out. And if he sat here too long, Lena would find him before he could start down the road. He pulled a ten-dollar bill from his wallet as he stood up. “I appreciate your advice. I’ll keep it in mind while I check out what Hiram told me.”