“We all know better than that,” Derek insisted. “And at times like these, we can be grateful that Bob owns Miriam’s building. It means you’ll all be back in business soon.”
An English fellow owned the Sweet Seasons building? Why had Miriam never mentioned this to him? As Josiah’s thoughts raced, he felt Rebecca squeezing his forearm. Her blue eyes sparkled with fierce determination as she gazed up at him.
“Fear not, Josiah,” she said, much as the angel in the Nativity story had spoken. “You might be thinking that Hiram finally got the best of us, but you’re about to see what the people of Willow Ridge are made of! We will rise again—believe it!”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Miriam shifted carefully on the hospital bed to make room for Ben to sit beside her. Her incision throbbed and she still felt weary from delivering Bethlehem, but now that the morning’s crises were behind her, she welcomed this time of cuddling with her husband as they watched their newborn sleep.
Ben eased over the top of the covers and slipped his arm around Miriam’s shoulders. “How sweet is this picture?” he murmured as he gazed at their daughter. “She’s been nursin’ just fine, and she’s perfect—and now we’re a family.”
Miriam smiled. “Ya know, of course, that had I not been able to have your babies, I would’ve considered you and me a family anyway,” she said. “But then, I already have three girls. It’s a wonderful-gut thing that you’ve got a child of your own now, Bennie-bug.”
“She’s a Christmas gift like no other,” he agreed as he kissed Miriam’s temple. “And soon we’ll be home again, livin’ in our own little slice of paradise. God’s been mighty gut to us, honey-girl.”
“Ya said a mouthful there,” Miriam replied. She rested her head against Ben’s sturdy shoulder and allowed his warmth to seep into her. Could there possibly be any cozier place on earth than her husband’s embrace? It would be so easy to drift off to sleep....
“What a blessing it is to see this peaceful scene,” a familiar voice said from the doorway.
Miriam’s eyes flew open. “Tom! It’s gut to see ya—and I’m guessin’ the Nativity pageant must be over. How’d it go?”
Tom paused before he answered. “Well, it’s hard to beat watchin’ the kids act out the birth of Jesus, and leadin’ folks in our favorite carols,” he replied. “I think our crowd might’ve been bigger than we had last year, too.”
Miriam sensed something wasn’t quite right about his response. Long before he’d become the bishop of Willow Ridge, Tom had been a good friend—had gone through his share of trials and tribulations—and she’d usually been able to tell when he was keeping things to himself.
“I’m glad to see ya lookin’ so chipper, Miriam,” the bishop went on, rolling the band of his felt hat in his hands. “Everybody sends their best. Naz and I were mighty concerned when the ambulance shot down the road so early this mornin’.”
Ben squeezed her shoulders. “Andy was worried about her blood pressure droppin’—and about all the pain she was in,” he added. “I’m glad we didn’t dig in our heels and insist on a home birth. A lot of things could’ve gone wrong.”
Once again Miriam noticed a telltale flicker of emotion passing over the bishop’s face, but she didn’t press him for details. “Come over and meet our wee girl, Tom,” she said. “On account of it bein’ Christmas Eve—and what with the way Hooley names run—we’re callin’ her Bethlehem.”
Tom’s face softened. As he approached the bed, he gazed eagerly at the baby. “Oh, would ya look at that dimpled chin and those long eyelashes,” he murmured. “I think she favors the both of ya. It’s the best part of my day, bein’ here to witness God’s love come down at Christmas to fine parents like you.”
Miriam gazed at the bishop’s silver-spangled beard and weathered face. Now that Tom stood at her bedside, she could see he carried a burden—and he was going to rub away one side of his hat if he didn’t stop fussing with it.
“What’s on your mind, Tom?” she asked softly. “Your words sound cheerful enough, but whenever I see that line between your eyebrows diggin’ in so deep, I suspect you’re not tellin’ me everything ya know.”
Tom’s eyes widened and his soft laugh sounded like a sigh. “You’re too sharp for me,” he murmured. “I—I hate to spoil this special moment. Especially because you’re not gonna believe what all happened during the pageant.”
Ben sat up straighter. “The animals didn’t knock down their pens and get out of the barn, I hope. I didn’t get to check things over out there as I’d planned to. Was anyone hurt?”
“Not as you’re thinkin’,” Tom hedged. He looked away for a moment, sighing as though he was perplexed. “There’s just no easy way to tell ya—”
“The truth’ll set ya free, Tom,” Miriam murmured as her heart began to pound faster. How could anything have gone wrong with the pageant? Rebecca and Teacher Alberta had kept to the program they’d presented last year, and Rachel and Micah were confident little Amelia would be fine while they sat in the shelter of the barn. “Just say it out. It’s like rippin’ off a Band-Aid real fast. Hurts like crazy for a bit, but then ya get over it.”
“Oh, this’ll take a lot longer to recover from, I’m afraid.” Tom straightened to his full height and gazed at her with a desolate sorrow that deepened his crow’s-feet. “First, everyone from Willow Ridge, including your girls, is okay, but Josiah’s grills caught fire and exploded and—and then your Sweet Seasons appliances blew up, too—”
Miriam’s breath stuck in her throat as she gaped at the bishop. Ben’s arm tightened around her shoulders.
“—and I’m sorry to have to tell ya this,” Tom continued in a wavering voice, “but there’s nothin’ left standin’. Your smithy’s gone, too, Ben. The fire trucks got there in a hurry, but all that’s left of either place is burned-up rubble.”
Had she not been holding her sleeping infant, Miriam would’ve cried out in protest. She tried to picture what Tom was describing, but her mind refused to form the images. A sob choked her. “How did that happen?” she rasped. “Josiah’s usually so gut about checkin’ his propane tanks and—”
“Maybe we were wrong to put up that wall around the cookers,” Ben murmured. “I thought there was plenty of ventilation—”
“Don’t go blamin’ Josiah or second-guessin’ yourself,” Tom insisted. “The firefighters found one of those plastic lighter gadgets a little distance from the buildings. And they, uh, found Hiram on the ground, too. Burned real bad and unconscious.”
“Sweet Lord Jesus,” Miriam murmured, hoping the Man in question wouldn’t think she’d taken His name in vain. “So he was messin’ with Josiah’s cookers again?”
“That’s what we’re all thinkin’, but we’ll see what the arson investigator comes up with,” Tom replied glumly. “Hiram’s here at the hospital now. I brought Annie Mae and Nellie with me to tend to the administrative details and see how he’s doin’.”
“Oh, those poor girls. They’ve had such a time with that man.” Tears trickled down Miriam’s cheeks and she made no attempt to blot them. “Do they know if Hiram’ll survive?”
“Officer McClatchey and Sheriff Banks weren’t sure. Said he was in mighty bad shape, though.”
Ben let out the breath he’d been holding. “I’m glad they arrived in time to help. They understand our ways better than other lawmen do.”
“Oh, they were already there, watchin’ the pageant,” Tom said as a slight smile curved his lips. “We were all singin’ ‘Joy to the World,’ and then—pardon me for sayin’ it this way—all hell broke loose. At least that surely must be what hell looks like. And it’s worse than I ever imagined.”
Miriam stared ahead of her, visualizing the inferno Tom had described and trying to comprehend its consequences. The bakery she’d nurtured with the love in her heart and the labor of her hands was gone. Ben’s shop—which had first belonged to her previous husband, Jesse—was demolished, as well. It hurt too ba
dly to think about it, so she focused on other details. “Was anybody else hurt?”
“Nope. Everyone was still at your place, and we all went inside to stay safe.”
“How’s Naomi takin’ this?” Miriam asked, and then her brow furrowed. “And what of poor Rebecca, losin’ her apartment? What a snug little place that was, too, with those rollin’ walls Micah designed.”
“They’re both doin’ well, all things considered.”
“We can be grateful that with winter and the snow, I’d parked my farrier wagon behind the barn instead of beside the smithy,” Ben said in a faraway voice. “And the animals are safe, and our home’s still intact. Could’ve been a lot worse.”
“Jah, there’s that,” Miriam murmured. “Sounds like Hiram’s meddlin’ backfired on him in a big way this time. I’m glad nobody else got hurt.”
Bishop Tom was nodding as they counted their blessings. “Jah, had folks been leavin’ because the pageant was over, we might’ve had a lot more injuries. I think some debris shot far enough to hit some of the cars parked along the roadside.”
Miriam shook her head sadly as the ramifications of Hiram’s misdeed began to sink in. “I feel real bad for Josiah and his sister,” she said. “They were cookin’ Christmas dinner for half of Willow Ridge or he wouldn’t have had his cookers goin’ tonight. Don’t ya wonder how Hiram always seems to know when he can do the most damage?”
“Ah, but there’s a brighter bit of news I almost forgot!” Tom said in a more cheerful voice. “Josiah introduced me to Lena’s dat right before the explosion. Seems your Christmas card and phone calls convinced her parents to come see their new grandson and mend some fences.”
A smile spread over Miriam’s face. “Every cloud’s got its silver linin’,” she stated. “I’m happy to hear the Eshes have reconsidered their feelings about Josiah and Lena. They must be wonderin’ what sort of town we’ve got, though, after all the hubbub this evening.”
Tom smiled. “I’m sure a lot of our visitors were appalled,” he agreed. “But when they saw the paramedics loadin’ Hiram into the ambulance, I think they realized that in this case, one bad apple doesn’t spoil the whole barrel. Derek Shotwell and Bob Oliveri were in the crowd tonight, too, so I won’t be surprised if they’re already puttin’ their heads together.”
“They’ve been gut friends to us and to Willow Ridge—more than once,” Miriam added. “That’s another thing to be grateful for.”
As the details of Tom’s story sank in, Miriam felt the urge to get up and move around—to release some nervous energy. She glanced at Bethlehem, who was sleeping soundly. “How about if we put this wee one in the nursery for the night? Andy told me to take it slow, just to walk around when I felt like it—and we’ll take my ride along,” she added as she nodded toward the wheelchair in the corner of the room. “I know just where I want to go, too.”
A few minutes after she’d pressed the CALL button, a nurse came to take Bethlehem, and Miriam eased out of bed. With Ben at her side, she took a few slow steps. Even though her incision ached badly, she made it to the doorway before she motioned for Tom to help her into the wheelchair.
“Let’s check at the nurse’s station to see where Hiram is,” she said as she carefully settled herself in the seat. “I know a couple of young girls who’re hurtin’ a lot worse than I am right now.”
A short ride down the hall and a trip on the elevator took them to the Intensive Care Unit, which was hushed and almost peaceful—until Miriam spotted familiar figures in Plain dresses standing in front of a room with their kapped heads bowed. Annie Mae had her arm around Nellie’s shoulders, and the dazed expressions on their dear faces tugged hard at Miriam’s heartstrings.
“What’s the word on your dat, girls?” Ben asked as he walked ahead to stand beside them.
Annie Mae wiped her eyes while her sister turned away from the window. “It’s not looking gut,” she rasped. “He’s burned so awfully bad, and he’s still not opening his eyes or responding to talk. Has a lot of damage to his lungs, and if he lives . . . well, Andy told us it would take a long time and a lot of surgery to fix his skin. And even then, he’ll never look like he did before the fire. His face is nearly . . . gone.”
“I’m so glad the little ones didn’t see him this way,” Nellie blurted out. She hugged herself, choking on a sob. “All those tubes and bandages and machines—it’s too scary to watch anymore. I’m glad they didn’t let us go in.”
“I’m so sorry about this, girls,” Miriam murmured. She opened her arms, and the sisters rushed over to embrace her from either side of the wheelchair. Their tears and quiet sobs tore at her. It would take a lot of love and healing and time before Annie Mae and Nellie got past the damage their dat had done to their family—let alone dealing with his physical and emotional scarring, if he pulled through.
“When the doctor asked if we wanted to keep Dat on a ventilator—asked if he had a living will—I said I didn’t want to prolong his suffering,” Annie Mae murmured. “Andy told him we Plain folks don’t believe in using machines to keep folks alive, so he’s just got an IV now.” Her slender body shuddered and she curved her arm around the fullness of her unborn child. “I hope I didn’t speak out of turn, as if I want Dat to die, but—”
“Ya did just right, Annie Mae,” Bishop Tom confirmed. “God decides whether we live or die, and He alone knows when our time on this earth is finished. Shall we pray on it? God’ll give us the strength to see this through if we ask Him.”
The Knepp girls bowed their heads with Tom, and so did Miriam—until Ben’s sudden intake of breath made her open her eyes. When his hand went to his heart and his eyes widened, Miriam sensed her husband was witnessing Hiram’s final moments. His expression brought to mind her memories of Jesse’s passing, when she’d been sitting at his bedside, gripping his hand as it went limp and his next breath didn’t come. Ben was young enough that he might not have been present previously when a soul left a body. Miriam knew he’d never forget what he’d experienced.
Beside her, the girls and the bishop remained in a state of prayer so Miriam rejoined them. Bless us all, dear Lord, and hold Hiram’s family in Your hand, even as we do our best to help them along. You give us life and You take it away . . . ashes to ashes and dust to dust. Forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors.
When she raised her head, Ben was gazing at the four of them. He looked stricken yet somehow settled, as though a moment of truth had shown him a previously unknown reality. When the girls and Bishop Tom opened their eyes, Ben approached and placed his hands on Annie Mae and Nellie’s slender shoulders. “I’m real sorry, girls,” he murmured. “The nurse checked your dat’s breathin’ and called in the doctor. They’re takin’ the tubes from his nose and removin’ the IV now. He’s gone, God rest his soul.”
A low cry escaped Annie Mae as she grabbed Nellie in a fierce hug. Miriam pressed her lips together against a surge of grief and pity as she watched the sisters struggle with the finality of Ben’s observation. Although she realized it was for the best—that Hiram wouldn’t suffer any longer from his injuries—she still had difficulty believing that the former bishop of Willow Ridge was gone.
Tom walked over and gazed into the room. “Bless us, Father, for we’ve all sinned and fallen short,” he murmured. “Let us not be castin’ stones, knowin’ that every one of us is guilty and in need of Your forgiveness.”
When the nurse stepped out and spoke a few words to Tom, he turned and looked at Annie Mae and Nellie. “Do ya want to go in and say your gut-byes? Spend as much time with your dat as ya need—”
“No way!” Nellie gasped, while Annie Mae shook her head and blew her nose.
“All right, then. Whenever you’re ready, I’ll drive ya back to town,” the bishop said gently. “We’ve got a lot of hard talkin’ to do, and a lot of little hands to hold.”
“God go with ya, Tom,” Miriam said as she wiped her eyes.
He smiled tiredly. “Don’t worry
about a thing. Your job’s to get strong enough to bring Bethlehem home.”
“I’ve got the easier task, Bishop.”
“Can’t argue with that.” Tom put on his black hat while the girls fetched their coats from the rack nearby. “Kiss that baby for me. She’s God’s promise that we’ve always got a reason to go forward and to believe that the best is yet to be. I know a lot of folks who’re waitin’ to hear that mother and child are doin’ well.”
When Tom had accompanied the Knepp girls down the hall, Miriam let out a long sigh. “Well, now. As much as we’ve disliked Hiram and his threats and lies these past couple of years, it feels odd to think about him bein’ . . . gone.”
Ben steered her wheelchair down the hall toward the elevator. “I keep thinkin’ that Hiram had more sense than to use a lighter around Josiah’s gas grills,” he murmured as they waited for the steel doors to open. “Unless he intended to blow himself up along with the café.”
Miriam’s eyes widened. “Are ya sayin’ he took his own life?”
After they’d entered the elevator, Ben gazed at her with eyes the color of warm pancake syrup. “It’s just a hunch. Hiram wasn’t a fella to admit how desperate he was, but what with bein’ on the wrong side of the law lately, and his kids and Delilah walkin’ out on him—well,” he said with a shrug. “I guess we’ll never know, unless he left a note somewhere.”
Miriam suddenly felt too weary to contemplate the circumstances of Hiram Knepp’s death. After starting the day in excruciating pain and giving birth to Bethlehem, and then learning her business had been destroyed, she wanted to fall into a deep sleep for several hours—even though she realized a night’s rest probably wouldn’t be so easy to come by.
“It’s a mystery,” she murmured. “Some things are best left for God to figure out.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
The Christmas Cradle Page 23