The Christmas Cradle

by Charlotte Hubbard

Breakfast on Christmas morning felt odd without Miriam bustling around the kitchen, but Lena enjoyed having her mother and Savilla helping her. “I’m glad we’d already made our Three Kings banana bread and the egg casserole,” she said as they sat down to eat. “I guess we’ll scratch up something to have for dinner, and be thankful we’re all unharmed.”

  “Jah, I was looking forward to some smoked turkey and pork loin,” Savilla said ruefully. “And I’d made pans of stuffing with pecans and raisins, and scalloped potatoes—but we’ll not dwell on what we’ve lost. It’s Christmas Day and I’m glad you Eshes have joined us.”

  As Lena settled Isaiah into a basket on the end of the table, an idea occurred to her. “You know, the cookies I made to go with our meals for the Hooleys are still here—in those tins,” she said as she gestured toward the counter. “What if we took some to the Waglers’ for the little Knepp kids? And delivered the ones we intended for Bishop Tom and Luke and Nora? It’ll be a way to thank them for their help, even if we don’t have their meats and side dishes.”

  “Those little kids would be happy to see your cute cookies,” Lena’s mother agreed as she passed the platter of breads and rolls. “And what a gut business that makes for you now that you’re staying home with Isaiah.”

  Josiah took a big spoonful of the egg casserole. “It’s even better because Nora and Luke have offered to sell Lena’s cookies in their stores, and Lena’s been offered some shelf space in the market, too,” he said. “What with Miriam not baking pies for them anymore, I think Lydia Zook’s tickled to have a new bakery item to sell.”

  Lena smiled. It was nice to hear Josiah speaking so positively to her parents about her baking business, considering he’d lost the café’s facilities. When they’d finished eating, he and her father loaded the cookie tins into a buggy and took off. Dat seemed eager to look around Willow Ridge, and Lena was pleased he was warming up to Josiah. She waved at them, closed the kitchen door—and then smiled at Savilla.

  “I’m leaving the door unlocked,” she announced. “I’m not glad that Hiram died, but I won’t miss looking over my shoulder, wondering what he might do next to get back at Josiah.”

  “That’s the spirit,” Savilla agreed. “I’ll unlock the front door, too. I’m glad we won’t have to keep track of the keys anymore when we come and go.”

  Lena’s mother raised her eyebrows as she ran hot water into the sink. “What kind of orneriness are we talking about? Had that man been pestering Josiah ever since you got here?”

  “Oh, the way Miriam tells it, Hiram was a pest long before we arrived. He was once determined to marry her—before Ben came to town,” Lena replied with a shake of her head. “And he tried to come between Nora and Luke by playing one against the other with his lies, and he cut off Annie Mae’s hair last spring—”

  When her mother sucked in her breath, Lena stopped talking. With a glance at Isaiah, who was watching them happily from his basket, she lowered her voice. Her heartbeat had accelerated and her body had tightened, and the rise in her stress level felt totally inappropriate.

  “I’m not going to speak of Hiram’s wrongdoings anymore,” she murmured. “Christmas Day is when we celebrate Jesus’s birth, and digging around in someone’s dirt only leads to negative thoughts. Who needs that? I’m so glad you’re here with us, Mamm.”

  A smile overtook her mother’s face. “You’re exactly right, daughter, and we’ll steer the conversation in a different direction. It’s not proper to speak ill of the dead, especially on Christmas. Even if it’s the truth.”

  When the three of them had redded up the kitchen, they settled in the front room to visit and play with Isaiah. Not long after that, Lena heard the back door open. “Come and see, girls!” Josiah called out. “You won’t believe what Emory and I brought home with us.”

  Lena led the way into the kitchen and stopped before she got to the table—which was covered with casserole pans and wrapped bundles. “What’s all this?”

  Josiah shook his head in disbelief. “When I stopped at Nora and Luke’s with the cookies, they said I’d saved them a trip over with this spiral-sliced ham and a pan of hash brown casserole,” he began. “It was the same at Bishop Tom’s. Nazareth and Jerusalem had cooked up some yams with marshmallows and a big bowl of green beans with bacon and onion—”

  “And a cherry cobbler,” her father added happily. “These Willow Ridge folks must be the nicest people I’ve ever met, all of them real sorry about the way Josiah lost his cookers and Miriam lost her café. It was like they couldn’t do enough for you kids—and that tells me you’ve made quite an impression in a short time.”

  Lena couldn’t help smiling. Coming from her father, those words were the ultimate compliment. Some of the food on the table was still warm, filling the air with aromas that made the house smell as though Miriam were here cooking. “You’re right about these people,” she replied softly. “They’ve been nothing but nice to us, helping us every way they—”

  A roaring outside made them look out the kitchen window as a big black pickup truck topped the hill of the lane.

  “That’s Homer Yoder, the fellow we bought the farm from,” Josiah explained as he went to the door. Then he chuckled. “Sure hope his bride-to-be hasn’t changed her mind about getting hitched.”

  When Homer stepped inside with a big box, however, it was immediately apparent that only good news was on his mind. “Say, I thought you kids might be interested in some of this commercial kitchen equipment one of my buddies is getting rid of,” he said as he set the box on the floor. “He’s retiring from the restaurant business over near Warrensburg and when I mentioned your predicament after the fire, he refused to take any money for it. There’s more where this came from, if you’re interested.”

  Josiah looked into the box, speechless. “My word, here’s a bunch of ladles and butcher knives and bread pans and—” He stopped to gaze at Homer. “Now tell the truth: Did that fellow really give this stuff away or did you pay him for it?”

  Homer’s lips flickered. “Does it matter, really?” he asked slyly. “If this equipment means you’ll be able to cook again sooner, I know a bunch of families who’d contribute to that cause because they love your food—and they want you and your sister to succeed, Josiah.”

  As Savilla gazed into the box, Lena noticed her eyes shining with grateful tears. “This is incredible,” she murmured. “Denki so much, Homer.”

  Homer shrugged modestly. Then he looked at Lena’s parents. “When I noticed you folks meeting Lena on the edge of the crowd last night, I was tickled that you’re making peace amongst yourselves. Would you like to see where the kids are going to live?” he asked. “I bet you’re curious.”

  “Oh, jah, I’d love to go!” Lena’s mamm exclaimed. Then her hand fluttered to her chest and she looked to Dat for his reaction. “But Emory, if you don’t think that’s an appropriate thing to do on Christmas Day, we’ll take a rain check.”

  Lena held her breath. It was common for Amish wives to defer to their husbands, and she’d witnessed this family dynamic all her life, even as she’d watched Miriam and Ben behave as equals.

  Dat, however, was stroking his beard. “Well, it’s not like we’d be working on a holy day,” he reasoned aloud. “And Homer’s helping the kids along, so it would be no different from visiting family and friends—which is what Christmas is all about. Let’s get our coats and go!”

  Lena’s heart danced as she grinned at Josiah. This was certainly a better Christmas morning than she’d anticipated after last night’s fire.

  “You go on with your folks,” Josiah said as he slipped an arm around his sister’s shoulders. “Not all of us will fit in Homer’s truck—and by the time you get back, Savilla and I will have Christmas dinner under control.”

  “There’s an offer I won’t refuse!” Lena’s mamm teased. “Off we go.”

  Lena couldn’t stop smiling as she slipped into her coat and bonnet. Yes, they were going down the road to their fu
ture home, but it felt more like she and her parents were heading toward a whole new relationship. The smiles on their faces were proof that their forgiveness was the finest gift she could ever hope to receive.

  As Nora’s black van approached Willow Ridge, Miriam shifted in the backseat and gazed at the baby in her arms. Because it was Second Christmas—the day after Christmas, when Plain families had their fun—Andy had allowed her to come home if she promised to let everyone else wait on her hand and foot. It was an uncomfortable homecoming, however. Her incision still hurt like the dickens every time she moved—and she didn’t want to see the charred remains of the Sweet Seasons and Ben’s smithy.

  “I’m gonna take my time about lookin’ at the fire site,” she murmured as she turned her back to the window. They were passing Bishop Tom’s pasture, and when Nora turned onto the county blacktop, there would be no ignoring the damage that had been done in her absence. “Look all you want to, Ben, but don’t tell me about it, all right? I’m just not ready to face it yet.”

  Concern furrowed Ben’s brow. “Are ya sure you’re ready to come home, honey-girl? Are your pain pills not workin’?” he asked gently. “Usually ya face such things head-on.”

  “Jah, that’s true,” she said with a sigh. “But I’m gonna spend what’s left of Christmas settlin’ in with this girl you’ve given me, thinkin’ happier thoughts and eatin’ something better than hospital food. Just bein’ with folks I love.”

  “That’s a fine idea,” Nora said from the driver’s seat. “I saw Rebecca walking around there this morning with Bob Oliveri. Now that we’re sure Hiram caused the fire, they were probably seeing if they could find anything worth salvaging.”

  “And that’s a gut job for them, too, because it was Bob’s building.” For a moment Miriam couldn’t find words for the great sadness that had hit her like a slap in the face. “I’m in no shape to be bendin’ over and pickin’ up whatever might be in the ashes, anyway,” she rasped. “And it’s not like I’m plannin’ to cook there anymore.”

  While she’d spoken the truth, the words burned her throat. Miriam didn’t want to burst into tears—didn’t want to cause an uproar—because folks at the house were waiting to welcome her and Bethlehem home. Andy had warned her that her emotions might be riding a roller coaster for a while, so why make her face blotchy and red while she cried her eyes out over her café? She would do her grieving in private.

  Ben, however, was staring out the van window. His face paled. Although his mouth opened, no sound came out as he stared fixedly at the damage. He didn’t say anything until the van had turned and topped the hill of their lane. Nora pulled up behind the kitchen door so Miriam didn’t have far to walk in the snow.

  “You’re a wise woman, honey-girl,” he murmured in a thin voice. “It looks worse than I figured.”

  Miriam didn’t ask for details. She handed the baby to Ben while Nora slid the van door aside and helped her to the ground. When the kitchen door flew open and Josiah, Lena, and Savilla rushed out, she focused on their fresh young faces and their bright smiles.

  “We were hoping you’d get to come home this afternoon!” Lena exclaimed as she wrapped her arms around Miriam’s shoulders. “My parents can’t wait to meet you—but when you need to rest, don’t you dare pretend you can sit there talking to them all evening. They’re going home tomorrow and then coming back for our wedding.”

  Miriam chuckled. “Listen to you, girlie, tellin’ me what to do,” she teased. Then she bussed Lena’s temple. “I’m so happy your folks showed up. I can tell by your faces that they’re behavin’ themselves—openin’ their hearts to you and Josiah and that wee boy of yours. That’s just as it should be at Christmas, too.”

  Lena hugged her hard. “You’ve done me such a favor, telling them about Isaiah and inviting them here,” she murmured. “I’m going to find a way to pay you back, again and again.”

  Miriam gazed at Lena’s pretty blue eyes and neatly tucked blond hair, recalling how frazzled this young woman had been when she and Josiah had arrived in Willow Ridge. So much had changed since then, in ways none of them could’ve predicted. Even though some of these changes weighed heavily on her heart, Miriam reminded herself that God was working out His purpose even if she couldn’t yet understand the whys and wherefores of His plan.

  “Miriam! Welcome home,” Savilla said as she opened her arms.

  As Miriam returned her hug, she inhaled delectable aromas . . . beef and vegetables simmering on the stove. “Supper smells wonderful,” she remarked. “Can’t say that the food was the best part of bein’ in the hospital—but I did bring home a sweet little Christmas package. Gut luck pryin’ her out of Ben’s arms, though.”

  As Lena introduced Miriam and Ben to her parents, Ben remained near the end of the kitchen table, swaying side to side with his baby daughter. The warmth had rekindled in his eyes as he gazed at Bethlehem, and he seemed to be recovering from his first encounter with the scorched remains of his shop.

  As he gently laid the baby in the cradle he’d made for her, Miriam held her breath. It was a wondrous sight, watching his large, sturdy hand support Bethlehem’s little head, and the way she snuggled into the soft mattress with the pewter hummingbird keeping watch above her. Tears prickled at Miriam’s eyes when Ben tucked the little yellow blanket she’d crocheted around Bethlehem and then gently kissed her. Although her husband Jesse had loved Rachel, Rhoda, and Rebecca, he’d not been one to show a lot of emotion or to dote on them the way Ben had already taken to his daughter.

  And isn’t that reason enough to be joyful and grateful to God? What’ve ya got to cry about, really?

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Saturday morning dawned foggy and overcast, and as Ben gazed out the window of the front room, gloom and resentment filled his heart. His Aunt Jerusalem and Bishop Vernon had returned to Cedar Creek, and Preacher Henry Zook had succumbed to the flu, so that left Ben and Tom to preach Hiram Knepp’s funeral service. As he sighed once again at the destruction across the road, Ben prayed for a major attitude adjustment. How could he preach about God’s love and hope and light to the Knepp children—and to the town of Willow Ridge—when he was struggling with the personal devastation Hiram had caused him and Miriam? Horse-drawn rigs were pulling into the lane over at the Wagler place, so he didn’t have any more time to brood.

  Ben smoothed the front of his black vest and buttoned the cuffs of his best white shirt. He turned to savor the sight of Miriam sitting in the recliner with baby Bethlehem in her arms. “Are ya sure you’ll be all right here by yourself? It’s time for me to go.”

  “Ah, but I’m not alone,” Miriam reminded him. “I’ve got this baby of yours—and God’ll be here with us, as well.”

  Ben smiled at her answer. He suspected Miriam was relieved that Andy had stopped by yesterday with strict instructions: she wasn’t to strain herself or expose the baby to crowds yet. A part of him envied her excuse for staying home.

  “I’m hopin’ that by the time I have to stand up in front of that houseful of people, God’ll give me something appropriate to say,” he admitted. “I’ve always known that funerals would be tough services to preach for somebody I knew and liked, but it’s not gonna be any easier to speak about Hiram. How do ya commit somebody’s soul over to God when you’re not sure that’s the direction he went—or intended to go?”

  “There are folks thinkin’ it was no mistake that he died in a fiery blast,” Miriam remarked. When Bethlehem coughed, she turned the baby onto the towel draped over her shoulder. “Maybe it’s best to focus on helpin’ Annie Mae, Nellie, and the four younger ones. If we have angry, mixed thoughts about Hiram, think about the guilt and pain his kids will be dealin’ with for a long, long time yet.”

  “Jah, it’s gut that they’ve got a home with Adam and Matthias—fine men who can stand in for a dat who was hard to understand. You’re right, honey-girl,” Ben said as he bent to kiss her. “I should focus on the rainbow rather than the rain.” />
  “Of course I’m right,” Miriam teased. “Ya knew that when ya married me, Bennie-bug.”

  “I’ll be back as soon as I can. There’s still plenty of nice leftovers for your dinner and—”

  “Are ya sayin’ I forgot how to look after myself when I birthed this wee one?” she countered with a chuckle. “Better skedaddle. You’re stallin’—and ya don’t want to be the last one to show up.”

  As Ben began the short walk to the Wagler place, he was grateful for his wife’s sense of humor and perspective. Funerals weren’t so much for the soul who’d passed away as they were for the folks left behind—in this case, not just the Knepp children but also the members of a church district who had once followed their faith with Hiram as their bishop. Once again Ben asked God to fill his heart with compassion and his mind with pertinent words. This would be the first funeral he’d preached, and he was feeling jittery and inadequate.

  As he entered the crowded house, shaking hands with everyone eased his nerves. When he’d come to Willow Ridge a little more than a year earlier, these folks had immediately welcomed him—and had embraced him this past spring as their new preacher, when Tom had become the bishop in the wake of Hiram’s banishment. At times his head spun with how many major life events had befallen him since he’d met Miriam—yet the solemn smiles of these neighbors affirmed their belief that Ben Hooley had been chosen by God to lead them.

  And with Your help, God, I will. He glanced into the main room of the house, which had been expanded by taking down some of the house’s interior walls. After yesterday’s visitation, the Waglers had moved their furniture and arranged the pew benches in the usual pattern, so the men would sit on one side facing the women on the other. A simple wooden coffin rested on a bench behind where the preachers would sit. Ben was relieved it would remain closed.

  A short time before the service was to start, Ben and Tom and their deacon, Reuben Riehl, slipped upstairs. Funeral services had followed the same order for decades, so the only decision they had to make was who would preach the shorter sermon and who would preach the main one. Ben and Tom each chose a passage of Scripture for Reuben to read, and then the redheaded deacon cleared his throat. “Esther and I’ll be taking off right after the service,” he murmured. “My cousin in Roseville called, saying my dat’s in a bad way and might not make it through the day.”