The Christmas Cradle

by Charlotte Hubbard

  Every time she touched this cradle, she felt the love of Ben’s hands as he’d crafted it for her—a priceless gift, that love was. Miriam had made a little mattress and a cover for it, as well as a crocheted blanket in shades of sunshine yellow, so the cradle was ready to welcome their child.

  Downstairs she went, to find Lena nursing her new son. Lena didn’t look completely comfortable with feeding him yet, but she was doing her best. The baby’s eyes were closed contentedly in his puckered pink face.

  “I want ya to have this cradle,” Miriam murmured. “I want it back, understand, but until ya find a bassinet or something else for your boy to sleep in, he can use this.”

  Lena’s mouth fell open. “But Ben made that for you,” she protested. “He’ll be upset if I—”

  Miriam held up her hand to silence the girl. “Ben often quotes the verse in the Bible where Jesus says that foxes have dens and birds have nests, but He had no place to lay his head,” she explained gently. “There’s no reason your wee boy should suffer that same lack—not if I have anything to say about it.”

  Miriam gently set the cradle on the floor. She leaned over the bed to smile at Lena’s son, smoothing his dark hair. “Have ya picked a name for him?”

  “This is Isaiah Daniel,” Lena replied softly. “That was Josiah’s dat ’s name.”

  “Well, ya couldn’t have chosen two finer fellas from the Bible to name him for, and you’re honorin’ the boy’s dawdi, too,” Miriam said. “What with Isaiah bein’ the prophet who foretold the comin’ of our Savior, and Daniel havin’ such faith as to remain unharmed in a den of hungry lions, this young man has a lot to live up to.”

  As though Isaiah knew they were talking about him, he looked up at Miriam with his deep blue eyes. Such sweetness filled her that she was speechless for a moment.

  Miriam sighed wistfully. “I’ll leave you two to get better acquainted,” she murmured. “It’s been a big day for all of us.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Ben sipped a mug of cocoa, grateful that the kitchen was warm and that Miriam had spent the morning baking cookies. About four inches of snow had fallen during the night, so he—and most of the other men around Willow Ridge—had been out on their horse-drawn plows clearing the roads and lanes. He bit into a cookie with colorful gumdrop chunks.

  “I’ve not seen a cookie like this one before, and it’s real tasty,” he said. “But then, I’ve never met a cookie of yours I didn’t like.”

  Miriam chuckled and took a similar cookie from the plate. “Slice-and-bake recipes are handy because after ya roll up the dough, it waits in the fridge until you’ve got time to bake. Taylor and Brett will gobble these up.”

  “Jah, they will. You’re a fine, fun mammi for those kids—and a shinin’ example of what bein’ Amish is all about.”

  Ben adored the roses that bloomed in Miriam’s cheeks. She was getting rounder by the day, even more beautiful than when they’d married.

  “Maybe I am a gut example,” she murmured as she poured them more cocoa. “This morning Lena said it was time she joined the church, now that Isaiah’s been born.”

  “Glad to hear that. Maybe Josiah will follow her lead.” Ben glanced out the window as another plow drawn by a pair of Belgians cleared the road shoulder. “Any idea when he and Savilla will be back?”

  “All I know is what he said about the new owner gettin’ possession of their place sometime this week. I hope they’ve waited for the roads to be cleared before they start—”

  Lena’s loud cry of alarm startled Ben enough that his cocoa sloshed onto the table. He and Miriam both hurried down the back hall toward the dawdi haus just as Lena came rushing out of her room, clutching her son.

  “What happened?” Miriam asked as she wrapped her arm around Lena. “You’re shakin’ like a scared rabbit.”

  “I am scared!” she rasped. “I saw a face at the window and it was—it was that Hiram guy, I just know it!”

  Ben’s insides tightened as his gaze met Miriam’s, but he wanted to be sure Lena’s impression was accurate. “Are ya sure? You’ve only seen him once, at Nora’s wedding.”

  “Nobody else has a black pointy beard,” Lena replied in a shaky voice. “I’d been feeding Isaiah in the rocking chair, and—and—”

  Miriam was frowning but trying to remain calm. “Were ya havin’ a dream, maybe? When I get startled out of a nap, my mind’s not always workin’ real logical.”

  “I can’t think why Hiram would be trompin’ around behind the house, either,” Ben murmured.

  “But I saw him!” Lena declared. “He was looking in the window, staring at Isaiah and me—like maybe he was going to come in the back door.”

  Ben left the two women in the hallway and entered the dawdi haus. This apartment, built for when he and Miriam became unable to climb stairs, was on the ground level, so it was possible that a person outside could peer in—although nobody ever worried about that sort of thing in Willow Ridge. As Ben thought about the scene Lena had described, he realized that Hiram, a fairly tall fellow, would be able to peer in through the open bedroom curtains—and the rocking chair wasn’t far from the window, so Lena would certainly have been startled if a face had appeared on the other side of the glass.

  If is the operative word, Ben reminded himself. Lena was young and vulnerable, and if she’d been dozing, her imagination might’ve raced like a spooked horse. There was an easy way to find out.

  Ben went into the sitting room and opened the door. If the fresh snow was smooth and undisturbed—

  His mouth clapped shut. Both of the back windows had several footprints under them, big enough to be made by a man’s boot. The footprints were right outside the door, too, so if their intruder had wanted to, he could’ve let himself in. Ben knew he and Miriam wouldn’t have heard the door from the kitchen, and a napping Lena wouldn’t have known about an uninvited guest until he’d entered her bedroom.

  Goose bumps rushed up Ben’s spine. What if this had happened while he’d been working in his shop and Miriam and Lena were here by themselves? He shut the door hard and twisted the knob lock. It might be time to install deadbolts, the way Nora had at her place. Ben inhaled deeply, trying to corral his runaway thoughts before he reported to Miriam.

  The two women and the baby were in the kitchen. Miriam looked up at him, her mouth in a tight line. “What’d ya see?”

  “Footprints. At both back windows,” he said as he took his coat from its peg. “I locked the dawdi haus door, and I want ya to lock this one and the front door, too, while I’m out lookin’ around. I can’t imagine why anybody would be snoopin’ behind the house, but considerin’ what we heard about Hiram when Officer McClatchey led him away, we can’t take any chances.”

  Miriam’s face puckered with concern. “Guess I’ve got to remember where I put the keys,” she murmured. “Be careful out there, Bennie.”

  Ben buttoned his coat and pulled his stocking cap over his ears. “If I see a black Cadillac, we’ll know he’s in town. Don’t fret over it, though. Once Hiram knows I’m lookin’ for him, he’ll not try anything.”

  Bracing himself for whatever he might find, Ben stepped outside—and hopped over the fresh footprints outside the kitchen door. Tracks went between the house and the barn as well. Instinct warned him not to burst into the barn, considering that Hiram might get the jump on him, so he placed an ear against the walkin door instead.

  Quiet. No nervous stomping of feet, and no whickering among his horses. The footprints began and ended in the lane, which he’d plowed clean earlier that morning, so there was no telling where Hiram might’ve gone.

  Ben gazed at the homes and buildings he could see from his hilltop vantage point, scowling. He saw no sign of a Cadillac—no tire tracks in the lane, no black car parked near the Sweet Seasons, his smithy, or the clinic. Hiram had never been a man to walk or drive a horse-drawn rig after Aunt Jerusalem had discovered his car last year—and why would he have been tromping through the snow
around the house and the barn, anyway?

  To see what he could see. And to scare the living daylights out of Lena.

  Ben was on his way inside to tell Miriam he was going to Bishop Tom’s to discuss their intruder when he spotted a familiar buggy and horse approaching down the lane. Josiah and Savilla needed to be made aware of what had happened this morning, so Ben stepped aside as Dolly pulled the rig up beside the house.

  “You two must’ve left mighty early this morning,” Ben remarked as Josiah halted the horse and opened the buggy door. “Guess I figured you’d be hauling a load of furniture. Did everything go all right?”

  Josiah smiled tiredly. “Jah, but instead of packing Mammi’s stuff, we ended up pitching most of it. She’d worn everything out.”

  “Just kept a few family odds and ends,” Savilla added. “It feels strange, knowing we’ve spent our last night in that house. But it’s all cleaned out, and we’ll have a fresh start in Willow Ridge now—and we want to see the baby, of course!”

  Ben smiled at the young woman’s eagerness. Savilla was a wonderful addition to their community, and he predicted she’d soon have fellows hoping to date and court her. “There’s something ya should know,” he began in a low voice. “Lena got a nasty scare a little while ago. Looked up to see Hiram Knepp peerin’ in the window at her.”

  Josiah’s face hardened as Savilla gasped. “Oh, that’s just creepy,” she muttered. “Lena won’t want to sleep in that room anymore, and I can’t say I blame her.”

  “Jah, it might be a gut idea to move you girls upstairs. We’re lockin’ the doors from here on out,” Ben insisted. “I have no idea where Hiram got off to, but I’m on my way to let Bishop Tom know what’s happened.”

  “But how’d he know Lena would be in that back room?” Josiah demanded. “I can’t think anyone in Willow Ridge would tip him off after the scene he made at Luke and Nora’s wedding.”

  “Hiram’s probably the smartest man I know—not necessarily in a gut way,” Ben answered. “Now that he knows Lena saw him and was scared witless, she’ll be an easy target. We’ve got to keep everybody posted about this incident—”

  “And it’s all my fault,” Josiah muttered as he looked away. “If I’d contacted him, like you told me, we wouldn’t be dealing with his warped craziness.”

  Ben was pleased to hear true remorse in Josiah’s tone, yet he shook his head. “We can’t know that for sure, Josiah. Hiram’s sneakier than a snake. He was doin’ stuff like this before you Witmers showed up, so I can’t let ya take all the blame.”

  “Even so, I’m going to give Knepp a piece of my mind—after I visit with Lena and see the baby,” he added quickly. “She’s nervous, I bet. I shouldn’t have been gone so long.”

  Ben nodded, hearing a different attitude than Josiah had displayed before he’d left for Iowa. “Tell Miriam I’ll be back in a while. Don’t want her thinkin’ I met up with Hiram and didn’t make it home.”

  “Be careful,” Savilla warned. “For all we know, Knepp could be watching us right this minute. And that idea turns my stomach.”

  Ben nodded and started toward the county road. Never had he foreseen the evil mischief their former bishop was capable of. It was a sad commentary on the state of God’s world when innocent folks suffered at the hands of religious leaders who’d gone bad.

  He prayed for guidance as he walked down the snowy road to Tom’s house.

  Josiah turned the knob of the Hooleys’ back door and then realized why it was locked. “We’ll go around front to ring the doorbell,” he said to Savilla. “I don’t want to knock on a window—and scare Lena again—to get somebody’s attention.”

  His sister’s face lit up, and she waved at whomever had caught sight of her through the window. As the door swung open, Miriam welcomed them with a warm smile. “Gut to see you kids. I suppose Ben told ya about our little incident this morning.”

  “I’m glad you’re locking the doors now,” Josiah replied. “I’ll tell you the same thing I said to Ben—I’m really, really sorry I didn’t follow through with a phone call or a note to Knepp. I had no idea—”

  “None of us could’ve guessed he’d take his pranks this far,” Miriam interrupted with a shake of her head. She twisted the lock button and gestured toward a plate of cookies on the counter. “You kids’re probably hungry after your long ride. If ya need a sandwich to hold ya over until dinner—”

  “I want to see the baby.” Josiah was surprised at the way those words had popped out of his mouth.

  “Glad to hear it,” Miriam said with a little smile. “Lena’s in the front room with him. We’ve decided you girls are gonna move upstairs, away from pryin’ eyes. So if ya could help us shift their clothes a little later, Josiah, I’d be grateful.”

  He chuckled. “Why did I know you’d be way ahead of us?”

  “Denki for that,” Savilla said as she hung up her coat. “Ben’s account of your intruder gave me the willies—but a couple of these cookies will help.”

  Josiah eyed the plate, spotting dark chocolate bars and lemony-looking cut-out cookies that called to him, but he headed for the front room. It felt so good to return to Miriam’s sunny kitchen, to the fragrance of her baking—to the gentle wisdom and compassion that filled whichever room she occupied. Silly as it seemed at his age, Josiah suddenly wanted to adopt Miriam as his mamm. His grandmother had done her best, but his need for a mother had remained unfulfilled since he’d been bereaved as a toddler. When he spotted Lena on the sofa holding a black-haired baby, however, his wistful thoughts took a back seat.

  Josiah swallowed hard. He really, really didn’t want to mess up this moment.

  Lena’s delighted smile made his heart shimmer. “Josiah! I’m glad you’re here.”

  “Me, too.”

  Somehow he was putting one foot in front of the other, for Josiah had never felt so tongue-tied or unsure of what to do next. He’d not been around many babies—they fell into that broad category of something women took care of—yet he couldn’t stop gazing at the tiny creature in the crook of Lena’s arm. “Wow,” he murmured when he’d reached the end of the sofa. “He’s so tiny. So awesome.”

  “He is,” Lena agreed with a chuckle. Her blond hair was tucked neatly beneath a crisp white kapp and her blue eyes twinkled as she looked up at Josiah. “Want to hold him?”

  Josiah blinked. Handling hundred-pound hog carcasses posed no problem at all, yet he was worried about dropping this tiny creature or holding him too tightly. He sensed that a totally different kind of strength was required around babies, and he wasn’t sure he possessed it.

  Lena was patting a sofa cushion, so Josiah sat down. He scooted all the way back, his eyes never leaving the boy . . . his son. When Lena offered him the baby, he gingerly took him in the bend of his elbow as he’d seen her holding him. The baby immediately knew someone else—a rookie—had taken him, and when his eyes opened, Josiah got sucked into that blue-eyed gaze without resisting it. He felt powerless, mesmerized by the small, puckered pink face and the tiny eyelashes and the way the little guy began to squirm.

  “I’m going to make him cry,” Josiah moaned. “I didn’t mean to.”

  Lena chuckled. “I think he’s filling his diaper.”

  “Ah. Nice to know I have that effect on him—I guess.” It seemed like a totally stupid thing to say, but Josiah had no idea what you discussed while you held your child . . . your firstborn, while you sat beside his mother. When a tiny hand gripped his finger, Josiah thought he might cry—partly from wonder and partly from the fear that he’d lost his sense of direction and would never return to being the man he’d been before he’d entered the room.

  “I’ve named him Isaiah Daniel,” Lena said as she held Josiah’s gaze. “What name will you give him?”

  Her question nailed him, begging for the obvious response that he would marry her and make everything right. And although Josiah knew that was the proper answer, he hedged. “That was Dat’s name,” he whispered.
“What a wonderful-gut—well, you made all the rational thought fly right out of my head.”

  “I have that effect on people, it seems,” Lena quipped. “Rational thought’s been the furthest thing from our minds more than once, but I don’t regret a thing, Josiah. I’m grateful to God that Isaiah’s a fine, healthy boy—and I’m really glad to have his birthing behind me.”

  Josiah laughed softly. “I can’t imagine. I—I’m sorry I wasn’t here to—”

  “Miriam and Andy were the perfect people to have at my side. Angels, they were,” she replied softly. “They’ve gotten us off to a solid start, so now you’re welcome to step in and be the dat—but I’m not going to make you do that.”

  “Why not?” he challenged. “Most folks think it’s past time that I assumed responsibility—”

  “Not me, Josiah.” When Lena riveted him with her blue-eyed gaze, Josiah saw no judgment or disappointment there. “I want you to decide, freely and from the deepest part of your heart, that you want to raise this boy with me. I won’t accept second best, or a part-time commitment. It’s all or nothing.”

  “I’m in or I’m out,” Josiah murmured. He looked at Isaiah again, aware of how fast and hard his heart was pounding—and of how utterly innocent, defenseless, and dependent this baby was. For the next few years, Isaiah would demand care and feeding and constant attention, no matter what else was happening to the adults he’d been entrusted to. The scope of such responsibility made Josiah squeeze his eyes shut.

  In his heart, however, he knew it was time to answer Lena’s unspoken question. Sometimes being a man required heavy equipment and tools and the money to purchase necessities. At this moment, however, all he needed was the faith to give a simple yes. Josiah didn’t know how Lena would raise this child if he went his own way, but he suddenly didn’t want to find out that she could get along without him.

  “I’m going to stand by you, Lena,” he said in a firm, quiet voice. “I can’t leave you to be a mamm without me being the dat this boy needs me to be. I—I love you. Really I do, even if I’ve had a funny way of showing it.”