The Christmas Cradle

by Charlotte Hubbard

  A tentative smile warmed Savilla’s dark eyes. “I’d like to meet this Miriam,” she murmured. “I miss being with our mammi. She always believed that if she asked God for something, she would receive His answer in due time.”

  “She was a strong woman, our grandmother. Miriam’s a lot like her,” Josiah murmured, reaching for his sister’s hand. “You’re strong, too, Savilla. I don’t know what I’d do if you ever gave up on me.”

  “Don’t you forget that,” she teased. “Who knows? Maybe I’ll meet a nice guy in Willow Ridge and get hitched. You’d better take care of Lena, or someday you’ll be all by your lonesome.”

  Was that a sparkle in his sister’s eyes? A whisper of hope for her future? None of the eligible fellows around Bloomfield suited her so maybe a fresh start in Missouri was a better idea than he’d originally figured on.

  It was worth the effort of cooking up a wedding feast to find out.

  Ben shifted one of the two wrought-iron trellises he’d made for the Simple Gifts shop, following Nora’s directions.

  “Shift it a hair to the left,” she said from behind him. “Perfect! These will probably be gone by the end of the week, considering how fast your other pieces have sold.”

  Ben gazed at the amazing amount of merchandise Plain crafters had consigned to Nora’s store. Walnut bedroom sets, hand-tooled saddles, and wooden rocking horses sold soon after they were tagged. Magnificent quilts and hand-sewn banners hung from the loft railing. Even on this dreary Monday afternoon, ladies eagerly fingered embroidered linens and pottery—customers he’d seen eating lunch at the Sweet Seasons earlier.

  “I’m glad your place is doing so well,” he remarked. “And these orders for trellises and garden gates keep me busy when nobody’s bringing their horses in to be shod.”

  “I never dreamed I’d attract so much business so fast,” the redheaded shopkeeper confessed as she accompanied him to the door. “The store’s only been open two months, and every day I’m calling my crafters with special orders or asking them to replenish their stock.”

  “And to think ya might not’ve come back to Willow Ridge,” Ben teased as he slung an arm around her shoulders. “I’m glad you’ll be my sister-in-law, Nora. Luke might’ve wandered like a lost sheep for the rest of his life had ya not come along to straighten him out!”

  As they laughed together, Ben put on his hat and coat. He opened the door to leave, and then gazed toward the county road that ran between his home and the café. “Are my eyes playin’ tricks on me or is that horse pullin’ a wagonload of grills?”

  Nora peered around his shoulder and then clapped him on the back. “Looks like Luke and I will have quite a wedding feast! I hope this all works out,” she added pensively. “Lena and Josiah are so young, and they have no idea what they’ve set themselves up for by, um, accident.”

  “No child happens by accident,” Ben reminded her. “God’s got a plan for Lena’s baby, just like he did for your Millie.”

  “You’re right,” Nora replied with a grateful smile. “Don’t let on, but at the surprise shower I’m having for Miriam, we’ll be making diapers and baby things for Lena, too. You two have given them rooms and a chance to succeed. Now the rest of us need to step up.”

  “The harder part will be gettin’ Josiah to accept what we want to give him,” Ben pointed out. “I’d best see where he wants to put those cookers. See ya.”

  Ben jogged down the snow-packed road, waving a hand above his head. He was pleased to see a young woman on the wagon seat beside Josiah. It was too bad the kid had shown up without returning Lena’s call because she’d been on pins and needles ever since she’d called him.

  That’s the way some fellas behave until the right woman teaches them a better way. Ben laughed—at himself, mostly, for being much like Josiah at one time.

  “Josiah! It’s gut to see you and all this gear,” Ben called out as he caught up to the wagon. “And I’m not includin’ you as part of the gear, Savilla. I’m real happy to meet ya.”

  When the young woman with the coal black hair and snapping eyes smiled, Ben knew the local bachelors would be glad she’d come, as well. “After what Josiah’s told me about you and your wife, I can’t wait to cater this wedding, Ben,” she said as he helped her to the ground. “Our food’s not fancy, but folks scrape our pans clean when we cook at community events.”

  “I’m gettin’ hungry just thinkin’ about it.” Ben focused on Josiah then, and on his wagonload of equipment. “What sort of a place do ya need for your cookers?”

  “Some of them use propane and I burn charcoal and wood chips in the others,” Josiah replied. “In the winter they have to be out of the wind or it’s impossible to maintain the temperature for cooking whole hogs.”

  “We brought our steam table, too,” Savilla said. “I wasn’t sure what you might already have for serving the food.”

  “It’ll be gut to have another one besides Miriam’s.” Ben pointed to a long building that sat across a field behind his smithy. “Nora and Luke are havin’ their dinner in the Brennemans’ cabinetry shop because it holds more folks than anyplace else for weddings and funerals and such.”

  “We’ll need to speak with Nora about the menu and get our food ordered,” Savilla said. She turned slowly, taking in the surrounding houses and Bishop Tom’s Holsteins, as well as Miriam’s orchard and the sheep at the Kanagy place. “What a homey town this is. And the buildings are in better condition than several we saw between here and Iowa.”

  Ben smiled at her observation. “We take pride in our home places, and in our new businesses, too. Plain communities where folks depend mostly on farmin’ are strugglin’ these days.”

  “And some Plain folks—like us—aren’t cut out to be crop farmers.” Savilla looked at him with sparkling coffee-brown eyes. “How’s Lena? I’m grateful to you and your wife for giving her and Josiah a place to stay.”

  “Last I saw of them, she and my Miriam were cro-chetin’ baby things,” Ben said, gesturing toward his home across the road. “We’ve got room for you, as well, Savilla. Let’s head over there and get out of this cold wind. Miriam and Lena will be happy to see the two of ya.”

  As they crossed the county blacktop, Ben felt much better about the possibility of a supper shift in the Sweet Seasons. Savilla Witmer impressed him as an astute young woman who probably kept the books for their catering business—and kept her brother focused on his cooking. He also sensed that Josiah’s attitude had improved since he’d left on Saturday night. If they could take over in the café’s kitchen, maybe Miriam would finally be willing to stay at home....

  “It would be a gut idea to either call Hiram Knepp or drop him a line to tell him you’re not gonna cook in Higher Ground—at least not for a while,” Ben added, to leave Josiah’s options open. “If he gets word you’re caterin’ the wedding next week—and then if ya decide to stay on—he’ll be mighty perturbed.”

  “I suspect Mr. Knepp will be unhappy anyway, considering that Josiah had agreed to be in Higher Ground by now,” Savilla remarked with a rise of her eyebrow. “If you don’t tell him you’ve changed your mind, Josiah, you’ve gone back on your word and lied to him.”

  “Higher Ground’s not that far away,” Ben pointed out, “and we know first-hand about the trouble Hiram causes when folks cross him. If I were you, son, I’d get squared away with him sooner rather than later.”

  “Jah, jah, I get that,” Josiah replied impatiently. “I’ll take care of it as soon as we’re settled.”

  Ben sensed Josiah had once again turned a deaf ear toward him, so he hoped the kid would listen to his sister. The last thing they needed was a brushup with Hiram at Luke and Nora’s wedding—or while the Witmers stayed with him and Miriam.

  As he entered his home, however, Ben set aside his concerns. Miriam’s creamed chicken and biscuits smelled heavenly. She and Lena looked happy and relaxed, as though they’d been enjoying each other’s company. A lot of gut things can come from the
se young people stayin’ with us, Lord, he thought as he removed his coat. Please let it be so.

  Chapter Six

  Miriam smiled as she looked into the Sweet Seasons dining room on Thursday morning. Savilla Witmer had insisted on helping in the café as payment for her bed and board. Along with Rhoda and Rebecca, she was seating customers, pouring coffee, and calling orders into the kitchen as though the three of them had worked together for a long time. She was quick about bussing the tables, too.

  “Our crew’s lookin’ sharp this morning,” Naomi murmured as she came to stand beside Miriam. “Everything’s goin’ like clockwork—and my youngest son’s takin’ in the new scenery, too, I see.”

  Miriam chuckled. Her partner handled the menu orders and kept the steam table stocked so Miriam could concentrate on baking the breads, pastries, and pies. “Jah, your Aaron and Matthias Wagler both seem real perky this morning. It’s nice that Savilla’s as capable as she is pretty.”

  “Let’s hope she and her brother stay in Willow Ridge, so she’ll know how the café runs when Rhoda quits workin’ to have kids,” Naomi remarked. “My Hannah’s better in the kitchen—”

  “And even if Lena and Josiah were married, it wouldn’t be proper for her to be out amongst the customers in her condition,” Miriam added.

  Naomi leaned out to assess the breakfast buffet, where Bishop Tom and retired preacher Gabe Glick were loading their plates. “I’d better refill the creamed chicken pan and have Lena make more waffles. Our new breakfast dish is a big hit.”

  When the timer dinged, Miriam opened the oven door. Her loaves of chocolate apple bread had risen into nut-crusted humps, and their cinnamon-cocoa fragrance would make the whole café smell luscious. Customers snapped up the goodies in the bakery case a lot faster when the aromas of her breads greeted them at the door.

  “Miriam, let me help you!” Savilla insisted as she grabbed some pot holders. “My word, how do you carry six loaves of hot bread at one time?”

  Miriam shrugged as the young woman grasped the rack’s other side. “I’ve baked my bread in big batches ever since we opened the Sweet Seasons,” she explained. “Makes more sense to have the pans in one rack than to handle pan after pan after pan. Denki for helpin’.”

  After she and Savilla had removed the six-loaf rack of apricot banana bread from the oven, Savilla inhaled deeply. “These smell terrific,” she murmured. “And Bishop Tom wants me to pass along his compliments on the chicken and waffles, too. He’s on his second plateful.”

  Miriam laughed, watching Lena remove steaming waffles from the two irons. “It’s the butter and milk from his cows, along with the chickens and eggs from our deacon, Reuben Riehl, that makes everything we serve extra-special gut. Send my compliments right back to the bishop, will ya?”

  Savilla’s laughter rang in the kitchen. “The city English we serve at our barbecues love knowing their food is locally grown. Never mind that we Amish have been growing what we eat for centuries.”

  “Here’s creamed chicken for the buffet table,” Naomi said from the stove.

  “I’m making these waffles as fast as I can,” Lena added as she closed the lids on her waffle irons. “Those guys are putting away a lot of food this morning.”

  “And they’re not gonna starve any time soon, so don’t get in a dither about bein’ a little behind,” Miriam said as Savilla carried the creamed chicken to the steam table.

  Lena focused on the waffle irons’ red monitor lights. Hannah began filling individual teapots with hot water to serve the residents of a nearby senior center, who’d come for their weekly breakfast outing. Miriam mixed powdered sugar, almond flavoring, and milk in a large glass measuring cup to drizzle over the fruit breads, pleased that her kitchen was running so smoothly. As she loosened the loaves from their pans, however, both Lena and Hannah cried out.

  “Ach, I didn’t mean to bump—”

  “Watch out for this boiling—”

  “Oh—oohh!”

  Lena’s waffles and Hannah’s hot water flew all over the center of the kitchen as the girls grabbed each other. Stainless-steel pots clattered to the floor and rolled around.

  “Everybody all right?” Miriam asked as she fetched the mop.

  “We’re fine, but we’ve made a big mess!” Hannah exclaimed.

  “And now I’ve ruined the waffles, and it’ll be a long time before—before—” Lena burst into tears and turned away, her shoulders shuddering.

  Stepping carefully, Miriam mopped the puddles while Naomi scooped up the soggy waffles with a dustpan. Savilla hurried back into the kitchen and relieved Miriam of her mop.

  “Bless her heart, Lena’s always been one to cry when something goes wrong,” she murmured.

  “I’ve noticed that, jah.” Miriam crossed the damp floor to where Hannah was trying her best to console Lena. The two girls clasped hands as though they’d had quite a fright.

  “Honey-bug, if I had a dollar for every time I spilled something, I’d be the richest gal in Willow Ridge,” Miriam murmured to the sobbing blonde. “It’s okay, really it is.”

  “But I didn’t want to—I didn’t mean to—”

  “Of course ya didn’t, but ya know what?” Miriam asked as she slung her arm around Lena’s shuddering shoulders. “The floor’s gettin’ mopped. And the little goats Bishop Tom’s wife keeps will think those waffles are a special treat. So all we’ve lost is some time and batter.”

  As Lena kept blubbering, Miriam sensed the girl’s hormones were in high gear. “Why not take a break over home?” she suggested gently.

  “I got upset over every little thing while I was carryin’ each one of my four kids,” Naomi joined in. “The best part about that is that it’ll soon be behind ya, dearie.”

  “But—but how will I work here in the kitchen after my baby’s born?” Lena wailed. “I’ll have to feed him and change him and—” When the back door opened and Ben stepped inside, she hastily mopped her eyes with her apron. “I want to do my fair share, but I don’t see how I can.”

  Miriam knew Lena’s reservations were right on target, for she’d need some recovery time after she gave birth, and every new mother discovered worries that hadn’t occurred to her before she held her firstborn. “After I’ve had my wee one, maybe you can keep the babies in the morning while I bake, and then I’ll tend them in the afternoon if ya want to help Josiah and Savilla with their cookin’,” Miriam said. “Will ya think about that?”

  Lena nodded dolefully. She smiled forlornly at Ben as she slipped into her coat and bonnet. When she stepped outside, everyone in the kitchen breathed easier.

  Ben set aside his insulated coffee mug to hold the bucket so Naomi could scoop the last of the watery waffles into it. “Is Lena gonna be okay walkin’ home?”

  “She’ll be more embarrassed if ya offer to go with her,” Miriam replied. “She’s feelin’ frazzled today. We’re gut to go now, thanks to these ladies helpin’ so quick.”

  “More waffles comin’ right up!” Hannah said as she returned from taking the hot tea to the dining room.

  “And to what do we owe your kitchen visit, Bennie-bug? Time for a coffee break?” Miriam teased. He wasn’t wearing his coat because he’d come over from the smithy, where his forge kept him warm. “There might be a sample in it for ya if ya talk to me while I drizzle frosting on this warm bread.”

  Ben smiled, but as he followed her to the back counter his expression turned serious. “I’m not so sure Lena should care for both babies,” he murmured as Miriam removed the warm loaves from the pans. “If droppin’ waffles upsets her, what’ll she be like when two wee ones are cryin’ and she’s there by herself? She might not spring back real quick after givin’ birth either, so helpin’ Josiah and Savilla might be a long shot—and for all we know, the Witmers might move on to Higher Ground. And Lena might go with them.”

  Miriam kept drizzling the frosting over the tops of her warm loaves as she listened. “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,�
�� she murmured. She glanced behind her to be sure the other ladies were out of earshot. “If it makes ya feel better, Rachel has offered to tend our baby when I come back to work, as she’ll be home with Amelia anyway.”

  Ben cleared his throat. White frosting had run down a loaf of chocolate bread to puddle on the countertop, but he ignored the temptation to scoop it up with his fingertip. “What makes ya so sure you’ll be able to separate yourself from your child? Once it’s born, I’m guessin’ you’ll let Naomi run this place while ya take on your motherin’ duties.”

  Miriam’s mouth clamped shut. Although Ben’s words were spoken gently, they had an unmistakable undercurrent. “Are ya sayin’ these things as an excited new dat—or as Preacher Ben upholdin’ the Old Order, tellin’ me to stay home after the baby’s born?” She gazed directly into her husband’s hazel eyes. “Or maybe ya think I should already be at home. Is that it?”

  Ben’s lips flickered, but he didn’t look away. “Bishop Tom’s been askin’ me about that—mostly because he’s concerned about your welfare, and the child’s. But jah, you’re a preacher’s wife, Miriam, and there’s already been some murmurin’ about ya runnin’ this café, defyin’ Old Order ways,” he replied matter-of-factly. “And me, I’m wonderin’ how you’ll maintain a regular feedin’ schedule, and what you’ll do if the wee one’s sick, or—well, ya sure can’t be changin’ dirty diapers in this kitchen. Have ya even thought about such things? I sure have.”

  Miriam suddenly needed to sit on the stool she kept close at hand. She’d known all along that their church leaders would expect her to take time off—or quit working altogether—after the baby was born. She sensed Bishop Tom was allowing her to work because she remained in the kitchen rather than carrying out orders or refilling coffee mugs, as she’d done before she married Ben at the first of the year. Amish wives were to remain modest and not show their pregnant bodies in public.