As they walked along the snow-packed road, fat white flakes began to whirl around them. Lena lowered her head, waddling as fast as she could to keep up with Savilla.
Might as well get used to the uphill climb. Your life’s going to feel this way for a long, long while.
Chapter Nine
Josiah halted his mare on the crest of the last hill overlooking Willow Ridge. With a fresh coating of snow, the homes, shops, and farm buildings reminded him of the miniature towns model railroad enthusiasts constructed to show off their train sets. A few ice floes drifted in the river near the mill’s water wheel and honking geese flew overhead. Wisps of smoke rose from the chimneys, while the bishop’s Holsteins and Dan Kanagy’s sheep milled around bales of hay near their barns.
It felt like a panoramic view of contentment—and now this little burg would be his home! He couldn’t wait to share his news with Savilla and Lena. The Hooleys would be impressed to hear that he’d made so much progress in only a few days, taking steps that made his future secure.
“Geddap, Dolly. Let’s get on into town.”
Josiah figured his sister and Lena would be working at the café, so he would find something for lunch in Miriam’s home kitchen. He wanted to share his news with only his sister, the Hooleys, and Lena, rather than have everyone in the Sweet Seasons eavesdropping while they piled their plates at the buffet.
It was going to be a great day—the first in a new lifetime of great days. He just knew it!
Josiah drove past Leah Kanagy’s garden plots and then in front of Matthias Wagler’s roadside harness shop. The Simple Gifts parking lot was nearly full—which was unheard of in most small towns on a Tuesday afternoon. Willow Ridge was so much more alive than most Plain communities; he’d be a fool not to settle there.
When he’d unhitched the wagon behind Ben’s barn and tended to Dolly, Josiah headed for the house. He was whistling as he grabbed the doorknob. A shower and clean clothes would feel good after all the packing and hefting he’d—
“Savilla! What’re you and Lena doing here?” he blurted out.
His sister stopped stirring the pot on the stove. “I could ask you the same question,” she retorted. “I thought you’d backed out of cooking for the wedding—”
“So I’m helping her,” Lena added in a similarly irritated tone. “Nurse Andy says my due date’s so close that I shouldn’t be working in the Sweet Seasons. But you wouldn’t know that because you took off again!”
“Without bothering to tell anybody!” Savilla chimed in, her voice rising. “Henry Zook’s keeping your meat in the market’s cooler, but again, you wouldn’t know that. What’s with you, anyway?”
Josiah scowled. He felt like keeping his good news for people who deserved to hear it—people who would praise him for making the decisions that needed to be made. “I’ve been taking care of business,” he replied tersely. “Since I’m the man of the family—”
“Could’ve fooled me,” Savilla muttered. She stirred the sauce in her pot so fast that some of it hissed when it landed near the gas flame.
“Suit yourself,” Josiah muttered. “If you don’t want to hear what a gut price I got for selling the farm, then—”
“You what?” His wide-eyed sister looked ready to throw her metal spoon at him. “Why on God’s earth would you do that without asking me? That’s my home, too.”
“And what about waiting to see how the wedding dinner goes?” Lena demanded. “What happens if you decide Missouri’s not the right place to set up your business?”
“Savilla, we discussed the possibility of selling the farm on Thanksgiving—remember?” Josiah bit back the words he wanted to hurl at both glaring young women. “Where’d you think the money for more catering events would come from until we’ve got a steady income?” he demanded. “I’m not living under Ben Hooley’s roof any longer than I have to. Everybody’s been telling me to man up, so I have! And all I’m getting in return is your static! I don’t need this.”
Josiah stepped outside, giving the door a satisfying slam. With Savilla and Lena’s remarks replaying in his head, he strode across the county highway. Did his sister really think he’d backed out of the biggest opportunity they’d landed in years? Did she want to rely on the Hooleys’ goodwill forever? With Miriam’s kid due in December and Lena’s coming sooner, there would be two babies bawling and two nervous, sleepless mothers—
Never mind what they think—they’ll soon see that you’re right. Meanwhile, you’re going to wow this town with the best barbeque anybody’s ever tasted.
Josiah walked behind the café, into the enclosure he’d built. He threw open the two big barrel cookers where he would roast the whole hogs. As he arranged the firewood and added the kindling and charcoal that would maintain the needed heat, it felt good to work off his frustration by hefting logs and big bags of briquettes.
He figured the time it would take the fire to get hot enough and added about twelve hours for cooking. For convenience and safe handling, it was best to have the meat sauced and in roasting pans the day before an event, so his timing was perfect. And when the aroma of the grilling meats circulated around town, folks were sure to get curious—and hungry. Their anticipation would play into the success of the wedding feast.
“Ah, so it’s you bangin’ around out here,” Ben said as he emerged from his smithy. “Thought I’d better check to be sure nobody was fiddlin’ with your cookers.”
Josiah almost shot back a remark, but he caught himself. “Denki for looking after my stuff,” he replied. “After I fire up these barrel cookers, I’ll fetch the meat from the market. I’ve got a lot of cooking to do, but I’m excited! This’ll be a wedding dinner like nobody around here’s ever tasted!”
“I can’t wait to try it,” Ben replied. “Your sister’s got the house smellin’ so gut, I’ve wanted to sneak samples of what she’s stashed in the Sweet Seasons fridges.”
Josiah nodded, checking his mental list. “I need to be sure Miriam’s got room for the pans of finished meat—or I can store them at Zook’s,” he remarked as he considered his options. “I, uh, suspect I ruffled some feathers by leaving for Bloomfield the other day—and I just got Savilla and Lena riled up by telling them I’ve sold the farm.”
Ben’s startled expression told Josiah that he’d probably leaped before he’d looked—again. “That must’ve felt mighty sudden to your sister and—”
“The man who bought it has been renting our cropland for years, and he offered me a great price,” Josiah insisted. “He didn’t expect me to fix up the house or the barn, either, which saved me a lot of effort and money. I—I really appreciate you and Miriam keeping the three of us, but it’s time I paid our way,” he explained earnestly. “When the sale’s final, I’ll be looking for a house somewhere near here, so if you hear of anyplace, let me know, all right?”
“Jah, I’ll do that.” Ben gazed steadily at Josiah. “I understand where you’re comin’ from, son, and I hope all the details fall into place like they’re supposed to. I hope the reception ya get from folks at Thursday’s wedding justifies your quick decision to settle here, too.”
Josiah detected an undercurrent of warning in Ben’s words—a hint that he might’ve sold the farm prematurely. So you have to succeed in Willow Ridge. No second-guessing. No chance to change what you’ve done.
“Does this mean you’ll want to start up a supper shift at Miriam’s place?”
Josiah saw no reason to hedge. “Jah, I do. I think a lot of folks in this area will be real glad for a place to eat in the evening.”
“Let’s figure on drawin’ up your agreement with Miriam tonight after supper, then,” Ben suggested. “That way ya can set up your menu and start servin’ whenever you’re ready.”
“Fair enough.” Josiah waved as Ben went back inside his smithy. He lit the fires in his two barrel cookers and then knocked on the café’s back door. When Miriam motioned him inside, her expression showed her mixed emotions—she was plea
sed to see him, yet wary.
Josiah paused in the doorway, watching Hannah and Naomi Brenneman plate an order at the stove while Rebecca and Rhoda refilled coffee and chatted with customers in the dining room. He’d be hard-pressed to match the efficiency of the Sweet Seasons’ breakfast and lunch shifts—mostly because the cooks and waitresses never exchanged cross words or glared at each other. Why were he and Savilla—and he and Lena—so often at odds?
“Glad to see ya, Josiah,” Miriam said as she returned to her work area. She dipped flour from a fifty-pound sack into a big bowl and began to cut lard into it. “Do the girls know you’re back?”
“Yeah—and I’ve once again cranked their handles in the wrong direction,” Josiah replied with a sigh. “I can’t believe Savilla thought I’d ducked out of catering the wedding. Her reaction to my selling our farm in Bloomfield was something to behold, too.”
Miriam sucked in her breath. “Ever thought about givin’ her and Lena some warning before ya do stuff like that? How would ya feel if Savilla up and left—and after the fact told ya she’d married somebody and wouldn’t be cookin’ with ya anymore?”
Josiah scowled. “She’d never do that! She refuses to date the old guy down the road who’s tried to court her.”
Miriam stopped mixing her piecrust. “Ya just don’t get it, do ya? If Savilla decided her chances were better with that old guy than with you—if she just took off—what would ya do, Josiah?” she demanded.
He blinked. If Savilla quit—for whatever reason—he couldn’t continue catering on the scale he’d become accustomed to. And running a supper shift without her would be impossible. But he suspected that wasn’t really the point Miriam was trying to make.
“Okay, so she’s reminded me that I have this habit of doing my own thing without consulting her,” Josiah admitted. To switch to a more comfortable subject, he gestured toward the big lumps beneath wet tea towels on the countertop. “What’s all this? Piecrust?”
“A bunch of us gals are havin’ a frolic here after we close this afternoon,” she explained. “We’ll bake Nora and Luke’s pies today, and I’ll make the wedding cake tomorrow.”
Once again Josiah was impressed by the level of cooperation among folks in Willow Ridge—and by the way Miriam always contributed time and ingredients. “Now tell me straight out. Will it be a problem to store my cooked meat in your fridges?” he asked. “I’ll have two whole hogs cooked by tomorrow around this time, and I’ll need some workspace to bone them—and to prep the chickens and briskets.”
“Plenty of room to go around. We’re cartin’ the pies to the Brennemans’ shop in the morning,” Miriam replied. “I’ll be decoratin’ the cake in this corner, so that leaves the whole counter over there for ya. I want to see how ya do those pigs,” she added with a grin. Then she raised a purposeful eyebrow. “Hug your sister for speakin’ on your behalf. We’ve already cleared out a whole fridge for your meat.”
Suddenly overcome by Miriam’s good-hearted generosity, Josiah stooped to hug her. “Denki for—well, for lookin’ after me,” he said, surprised at how tight his voice sounded.
“Well, now,” Miriam murmured, patting his wrist with her floury hand. “This is kinda nice comin’ from you, Josiah.”
The tension eased out of his shoulders as he allowed Miriam’s warmth to soak into his soul. “I miss my grandmother. She and our grandfather raised Savilla and me after our parents drowned in a flood,” he said. “I’ve probably rushed into a few rash decisions that Mammi would’ve made me think harder about.”
“That’s how it works when somebody ya love passes on,” Miriam murmured. “Would that be the flood of 1993 you’re speakin’ of?”
He nodded. “I was just a little kid. Can hardly recall my parents’ faces.”
Miriam’s grip tightened on his wrist. “I’m sorry that happened to ya, Josiah. My toddler Rebecca was washed away from me in that flood,” she recalled in a faraway voice. “But nineteen years later she came back to me, after I’d figured she was dead. It’s my favorite miracle—and you’ll have your share of them, too, if ya believe ya will.”
Josiah desperately wanted to buy into Miriam’s talk of miracles. He realized then that Naomi, Hannah, the two waitresses—and the end of the lunch shift—had kept on going while he’d been temporarily lost in Miriam’s cozy strength. He straightened to his full height, wondering if anyone had thought it odd for him to be hugging her.
So what? It’s not a sin to open up to someone—and it’s nobody else’s business anyway.
Miriam smiled up at him and began working the lard into her flour with her pastry cutter again. “Still thinkin’ to cook here in the evenings?”
“Jah, I really, really want that to work out,” he replied. “Ben says we can write up an agreement tonight, so I can start sooner rather than later.”
“I like the sound of that. We’ll make it happen, Josiah.”
Josiah suddenly felt as though he could accomplish anything he set out to do. With Miriam standing up for him, who could possibly be against him? “Jah, we will,” he stated. “I’ll head over to Zook’s and get those hogs ready for the cookers.”
“Give Preacher Henry my best, and Lydia, too. Gut folks, the Zooks.”
As Josiah strode down the road, he felt like a better man. Miriam was committed to his success now, so he had no one but himself to blame if his dinner shift failed.
Miriam straightened her back as she sat on her stool Wednesday afternoon, weary from being on her feet for the previous afternoon’s pie frolic. She was glad she’d baked and frozen the layers of Nora’s wedding cake and the sheet cakes last week, so all she had to do was decorate them. A tapping on the back door alerted her to a visitor.
“Come on in, Tom!” she called out.
Bishop Tom Hostetler’s smile crinkled the skin around his eyes as he entered the Sweet Seasons kitchen. “There’s a whole lotta cookin’ goin’ on,” he quipped, removing his hat. “Willow Ridge has never smelled so gut, what with the aroma of Josiah’s meats in the air. And this must be the cake for the wedding?”
“Jah, and the pies are all made, so this is the last thing I’m responsible for,” Miriam replied. “It’ll be nice to enjoy the wedding without havin’ to help serve.”
“I’m kinda glad I don’t have to officiate, so I can enjoy the whole day, as well,” Tom remarked. “We’ve had a lot of weddings lately—a real positive sign for the future of our little town. Not to mention a lot of babies.”
Miriam kept her spatula moving over the buttercream frosting so the cake’s main layer would have a perfectly smooth finish. She had a pretty good idea what Bishop Tom wanted to discuss next.
Help me to remember humility, Lord, and to obey this fine bishop Ya chose for us. Ya know how I tend to do what I want rather than askin’ for Your opinion.
“How’re ya feelin’ these days, Miriam? Ya look a little tired, and that concerns me,” Tom said gently.
“I can tell ya that carryin’ a baby at forty-one is different from doin’ it at twenty—even though I had triplets that time around,” Miriam replied with a chuckle. She looked him in the eye. “I suppose you’ve come to tell me I shouldn’t be workin’—that I should’ve hung up my pots and pans when I married Ben. I know the Ordnung says I should be a wife and a mother now instead of runnin’ a restaurant.”
Tom looked relieved that she’d broached this difficult subject herself. “My feelings are as mixed as yours, Miriam,” he admitted. “When ya opened this place after Jesse died, we all thought it was right for ya to bring in some income because the Lord helps those who help themselves. I should’ve talked ya into quittin’ earlier, but you and I go back a long ways. Truth be told, I don’t know how I would’ve kept myself fed and together after Lettie left me if ya hadn’t opened the Sweet Seasons.”
Miriam chuckled as she piped a border around the cake’s bottom layer. “Our single fellas have been the mainstay of my business,” she agreed. “And a lot of them who’ve
married are still comin’ here for breakfast even though they’ve got wives to cook for them.”
“We value the time we spend with one another while we eat here,” the bishop replied pensively. “Breakin’ bread together builds a strong connection—a tie that binds. You’ve started our days off right, Miriam, and nobody wants to give that up. But there comes a time for change. A time to reassess our priorities.”
Miriam’s heart thudded. She began frosting the top layer of Nora’s cake so the familiar movements would keep her emotions in check. If she quit cooking, what would she do with herself for the two months before the baby came? Would Naomi be able to keep the place going? That was a priority because Naomi’s husband Ezra was in a wheelchair, no longer able to earn a living.
“When I was a first-time bride,” she mused aloud, “I never dreamed I’d outlive my husband and then hitch up with another fella after my girls were grown. I believed I wasn’t able to conceive any more kids, too, so Ben’s baby is an unexpected gift from God.”
“Marryin’ Nazareth has changed my life, as well,” the bishop said with a sweet smile. “After Lettie ran off with that English fella, I figured I was doomed to be alone for the rest of my life. God’s been extra-special gut to you and me, Miriam.”
“Ya took on another load when ya became our bishop, too.” She refilled her pastry bag to pipe the border around the cake’s top layer. “I’m sorry my workin’ has put ya in a tough spot, Tom. I suspect the men in the district are askin’ why ya haven’t flat-out sent me home.”
“They’re selfish, like me. And while I think folks will support Josiah and his sister’s supper shift,” Tom continued earnestly, “the Sweet Seasons won’t be the same without you, Miriam. We all want ya to do the right thing by our faith, but we’re spoiled enough to wish ya didn’t have to.”
Miriam’s pulse pounded in triple time. Did she dare push for an end date closer to when the baby was due? Or was Tom hoping she’d quit now?
She completed the scalloped border and took a deep breath. “Do ya want me to stay home after tomorrow’s wedding, Tom? Or maybe startin’ next week? I’d do that in a heartbeat if Naomi could find more kitchen help. She came into this business with me to support her family—”
The Christmas Cradle Page 9