Autumn Winds

by Charlotte Hubbard

  Rhoda smiled to herself and glanced at her mother. She wasn’t surprised that Mamma was watching the way their guest’s fine mouth closed over his forkful of cake. “We don’t decide on our breakfast menu most mornin’s until we get to the Sweet Seasons,” Rhoda remarked as Ben’s eyes closed over his first bite of dessert. “Sometimes—for special occasions—we take requests. And your goin’ to Hiram’s tomorrow seems like a gut time to fortify ya with all the stuff ya love best. What would you like?”

  Ben swallowed, thinking about it as he savored another bite of cake. “I don’t think a fella ever gets enough gut bacon and sausage,” he said in a dreamlike voice. “Especially if it’s butchered local.”

  “Our meats come from Zook’s Market, and Henry himself does the butcherin’,” Rhoda assured him. “He makes the best—”

  “Apple sausages!” Mamma joined in gleefully. “This time of year, he can’t keep his sausage links with little chunks of ground apple in stock, but his boy, Jonah, delivered us a case yesterday. We’ll cook some up tomorrow!”

  “Makes the whole café smell wonderful-gut,” Rachel agreed.

  “And I make mighty fine French toast, too, topped off with fried apples, all sweet and spicy with cinnamon!” Rhoda leaned on the arm of her chair closest to Ben, determined not to let her sister and her mother steal her thunder. “Or those fried apples are tasty with oatmeal pancakes—”

  “Or how about that apple walnut coffee cake ya made a couple weeks ago?” Rachel suggested. “Once Micah and the Kanagy boys got into that, it was gone before any other customers got a chance at it.”

  Ben laughed as he took the final bite of his cake. “I can’t possibly eat all that! But I’ll do my best to devour whatever you’re cookin’, because for sure and for certain it’s better than what I’d grab at a convenience store like I usually do when I’m on the road.”

  When he handed her his empty plate, Rhoda saw how lean and strong his hands were, with occasional scars, like Dat had gotten over the years, when sparks had jumped from the forge. To keep from staring at his long, slender fingers, she patted the Bible. “Pick us out somethin’, Ben. I’ll be right back.”

  As she entered the dim kitchen, Rhoda’s thoughts spun like tops. Oh, but she’d wanted to keep Mamma out of their menu planning! Wanted to ask Rachel whose side she was on, too, giving Ben ideas about what their mother baked best! It wasn’t like she herself fell short on the cooking end of things!

  Don’t be a little kitty cat, mewin’ for attention! You’ll hear no end of it!

  Rhoda took in a deep breath. Reminded herself that Ben Hooley would be in Willow Ridge—in the little apartment above the smithy—for at least a couple of weeks yet. Plenty of time for him to see how he’d be better off marrying a younger girl like herself, who wasn’t already used to running her home a certain way, and wasn’t tied down to keeping a café open, either. Mamma had always made it clear that her daughters had their own lives to live when they got hitched, and that Naomi’s girl, Hannah, would most likely be working in the café when she turned sixteen in November.

  Jah, Ben, it’s gonna be you and me . . . God brought ya to my doorstep for a gut reason, and together we’ll explore why your comin’ here is the best thing that ever happened to both of us.

  More settled, Rhoda returned to her chair and saw that Ben had picked a passage and raised the wick of the lamp so he could read the dark, crowded columns on the pages of the old Bible. Mamma and Rachel had stopped swinging and sat with their hands folded on their laps, ready to hear the Word, so she sat the same way. Ben needed to see that while she might be younger than he was by a few years, she’d been raised in the faith to show proper respect and attention when God spoke to them through these evening readings.

  “This was one of my dat’s favorite passages,” Ben began. His expression turned wistful in the flickering lamplight. “He was a smart fella who understood all the difficult language in our King James version—would’ve made a gut preacher—and he put the Scriptures into words we kids could follow, so we’d know more about what was goin’ on when we heard the verses in church.”

  “He must’ve been a mighty gut dat,” Mamma remarked with a nod.

  “Jah, and I miss him somethin’ fierce sometimes—but don’t get me yackin’ about that,” he added with a chuckle. “It’s late and we’ve all had a . . . day that needs finishin’ out on the right note.”

  Ben drew a breath and found his place with his finger. “I’m readin’ from the Proverbs, in chapter thirty-one,” he said in a low voice. “Sayin’ the verses like I recall hearin’ them at home, when my family gathered around just like this to listen.”

  Rhoda closed her eyes to better focus on Ben’s mellow voice . . . even though she wasn’t paying as much attention as she should to the message itself.

  “Who can find a virtuous woman—a truly gut wife? She’s worth more than precious jewels. Her husband trusts her with all his heart and he’ll never lack for anythin’ while he’s with her.”

  Rhoda’s heart thumped faster. Ben had not only chosen a passage about a good wife, but he sounded as if he was saying the words directly to her! She leaned back in her chair, allowing his low voice to ease all the worries of this day . . . all the doubts in her own mind about finding the right man.

  “. . . She does gut things for him all her life long,” Ben went on in that dreamlike rhythm. “She spins wool and flax and works with willin’ hands . . . she’s up before dawn providin’ food for her family and settin’ up everybody’s chores for the day. She knows good land when she sees it and she plants vineyards and gardens with her own hands . . .”

  Rhoda peeked between her slitted eyelids. Mamma and Rachel, too, sat in the shadows with awed looks on their faces, as though Ben Hooley wove some sort of magical spell around them.

  “. . . opens her hands to the poor, and she helps folks who need it.”

  This was a world apart from how Bishop Knepp and the preachers read the Bible: the Old Ways dictated that members not stray from the exact wording and never hazard a guess at interpreting the verses for themselves. Rhoda sighed, drifting along on the pleasant rhythm of Ben Hooley’s voice.

  “. . . pays attention to what goes on with her family and the household, and she’s not idle or wastin’ her time,” he went on earnestly. “Her children grow up and say she’s blessed—and a blessin’ to them—and her husband does, too. And he praises her for all the things she does to make his life so fine.”

  Ben paused then, sighing with satisfaction as though he’d reached the happy ending of a story. “Many women have done well and lived excellent lives, but you surpass them all. Charm is deceitful and beauty makes ya prideful and vain, but a woman who loves the Lord is to be praised.”

  After a moment of absolute silence, when the world around them seemed to hold its breath in wonder, Rhoda sighed. So did Mamma and Rachel.

  “Well, now,” Rachel said in a low voice. “It’s for sure and for certain we’ll never hear the preachers readin’ it that way—”

  “And while Hiram’s preached on this passage a time or two, mostly tellin’ us women how hard we’re to be workin’ to make life gut and prosperous for our men,” Mamma added, “it does my weary soul a real favor to hear this passage in our own everyday words. Especially after the way Hiram spelled out his expectations for a wife today. Denki, Ben.”

  “Jah, Ben, that was wonderful-gut,” Rhoda murmured. Truth be told, she shimmered inside from seeing herself in the circumstances Ben had described: working hard, planting the garden and cooking the food, tending the house and taking care of her husband and their children. And hadn’t he intended this message—chosen these verses—just for her? “We’re blessed yet again by your comin’ here, Ben. I—we—hope you’ll decide to stick around for a gut long while.”

  His smile softened, his face tanned by riding in the wind and the sun. “Mighty nice of ya to say that. I haven’t had anybody to share my faith with these past few years on the
road, and there’s preachers a-plenty who’d shake their fingers at me for messin’ with the way our Bible reads.” He shrugged, making his pale ivory shirt ripple across his shoulders. “‘But as for me and my house’, Dat used to quote from Jeremiah, we served the Lord by learnin’ His book in a way we could understand even when we were kids. That way, there’s no excuse for not knowin’ or followin’ Jesus.”

  “Amen to that,” Mamma murmured. She rose from the swing then, stretching like a contented cat as she yawned. “Hate to see this evenin’ end, but mornin’ comes early when ya bake for a livin’. You girls can show our guest to his rooms. I’ll see ya for breakfast, Ben.”

  “Jah, get a gut night’s rest, Miriam,” Ben replied, standing to open the door for her. “Denki for a right fine day, all things considered.”

  “I’ll be callin’ it a night, too.” Rachel picked up the big Bible and then followed Mamma into the house. “Mondays Rhoda and I do the wash, and we like to get a gut start on it before we show up to wait tables and help Mamma. ’Night, now.”

  “You, too, Rachel.”

  Ben closed the screen door so it wouldn’t slam. Then he turned to Rhoda, smiling at her in the lamplight. “Guess that leaves just you and me.”

  Rhoda’s heart throbbed so hard she wondered if he could hear it banging in her chest. “Jah,” she whispered. “Just you and me.”

  Chapter 9

  Ben gestured for Rhoda to precede him down the porch steps, hanging back to collect his thoughts. All during their time on the porch he’d felt this young woman watching his every move, hanging on his every word . . . gazing at him like a love-struck puppy. And a sweet, lovable puppy she was, too, but he couldn’t let Rhoda follow him around with that moony-eyed look on her face. Couldn’t let her friends in the Sweet Seasons make fun of her for doing special things for him. Couldn’t let her believe he was the answer to all her prayers.

  At twenty-one, Rhoda Lantz must feel her clock ticking, especially with her twin sister getting married soon. He’d watched a couple of his younger sisters go through crushes like this—love at first sight for fellows who had no intention whatsoever of loving them back, if they even had a clue about how Gracie and Bess felt about them. Boys could be so heartless . . . even when they got to be Hiram Knepp’s age.

  But Ben set aside all thoughts about the bishop. Plenty of time tomorrow to deal with that man. As he strolled along the gravel driveway toward the dark smithy and café, he prepared himself for whatever might happen.

  Lord God, help me be the man ya created me to be . . . honorable and kind and up-front about situations like this. And if I’m behavin’ this same lost-puppy way toward Miriam, not readin’ her right, will ya please give me a gut swift kick before I do somethin’ stupid?

  “It’s mighty nice of you gals to let me stay in your new apartment,” he said to break the awkward silence as they walked. “Right kind of you to ask me what I’d like for breakfast, too. You’re a sweet girl, Rhoda. Very thoughtful.”

  Her smile beamed up at him and then she focused on the pale gravel path with the strip of grass down its center. Rhoda walked closer to him then, with her head lowered shyly, so that Ben saw how the moonlight glimmered on her kapp. Someday, when she filled out, she’d be as attractive as her mamm.

  When they reached the side door of the blacksmith shop, Rhoda fumbled beneath a flowerpot for the key. “We didn’t lock this place when Dat had his business here,” she remarked. “But what with all the traffic on the county road, and the way word got around about Micah fixin’ us rooms where the loft used to be, we just figured it to be safer.”

  “Three women alone have to be careful,” he agreed.

  “Come on up. Will ya be all right on the stairs, or shall I fetch the lamp from the bakery?”

  Ben stepped inside the blacksmith shop and allowed his eyes to adjust to the dark until he could make out the shapes of the big forge and the bins full of horseshoes and tools. “I’m gut in the dark if you are.”

  Wrong thing to say! You’ve got to do better than that, Hooley!

  “Oh, I’m fine. I know my way around down here, and the stairs have a handrail,” she pointed out as she took hold of it. “Rachel’s Micah did a real nice job of puttin’ this place together for us, and I’m excited about movin’ in after they get hitched.”

  “Even though you’ve had a room next to your sister’s all your life? It’ll be different, livin’ here in this little place with your mamm.”

  Rhoda turned on the stairs to face him. “How would ya know about that, Ben Hooley?” she whispered. “Ya seem to understand so much about me even though we just met.”

  He cleared his throat. Any more little honeybee remarks like that one would swarm him if he didn’t swat them down—gently—from the start. “I have sisters myself. And since there were only two of them amongst us six boys, they were thick as thieves, too,” he remarked. “When Gracie got married, Bess wandered around the place for days lookin’ like she’d lost her best friend.”

  Rhoda turned the key in the door at the top of the stairs and they stepped into a set of rooms that still smelled of fresh paint, varnish, and new wood. “I’ll light the lamp now, so ya can pick which room ya want and see what-all Micah’s rigged up for us,” she said proudly. “A couple months ago, on our birthday, we unveiled this little place and he got a lot of orders for wall systems like he built here.”

  When the flame caught and the lamp revealed a tidy, simply furnished set of rooms, Ben smiled. “It looks better than the back of my wagon, for sure! And you’re pullin’ that wall forward on a track!”

  Rhoda chuckled. “Jah, that’s the amazin’ part. Durin’ the day you’ve got a nice sittin’ room and the kitchen nook, and when ya shift this wall forward, ya make a bedroom with book cases along the wall. And the beds pull down when you’re ready for them, too.”

  Ben ran an admiring hand over the glossy oak woodwork. It was hard to believe how many room combinations could be made in this cozy nest by shifting segments of the walls across the main space.

  “So . . . which bedroom are ya takin’, Ben?”

  He chuckled. “That’s another one of those questions that says a lot about a fella, ain’t so?”

  “I already know all I need to.”

  Ben closed his eyes. Rhoda was getting bolder . . . standing close enough that her skirt brushed his pant leg.

  “Pale green walls or light blue?” Ben murmured, stalling until he figured out how to set Rhoda straight without hurting her feelings.

  And how will ya do that? She’s been seein’ all these perty pictures in her mind and it’ll be a big letdown, no matter how ya go about it. Watch out, now!

  Rhoda had grasped a handle on the side of another set of shelves, to lower a Murphy bed into place. Sheets and all. Surely Miriam Lantz’s girl wouldn’t play the jezebel with him . . .

  “The green room’s yours, ain’t so?” he murmured. “I can find my way around now, Rhoda. Everythin’ a man could possibly need is here—”

  “Ben, you’re the fella I’ve been waitin’ for all my life,” she murmured. “I’d almost given up ever findin’ somebody who can make me as happy as Micah makes Rachel, but—but here ya are!”

  He slowly let out his breath. “Rhoda, ya have no idea about—”

  “Don’t be goin’ modest on me now, or gettin’ shy!” She came up to stand in front of him, mere inches away, with her face lifted up for a kiss. Her eyes sparkled in the dimness. “I’ve been courted by my share of fellas—”

  “That’s no surprise, but—”

  “—but none of them come close to bein’ the man you are, Ben Hooley,” she continued earnestly. “Ya probably think it’s too soon for me to be sayin’ this, but nobody’s ever made me feel this way!”

  Ben groaned inwardly. “Ya don’t know what you’re—”

  “I’m twenty-one, Ben. Plenty old enough to know a lot of things.” She stepped closer, smiling so sweetly it broke his heart.

 
He reminded himself how crushed Bess and Gracie had been; for days after each of them had been ignored or ridiculed by the men they’d set their hearts on, there was no living with their red eyes and long faces. And their brothers had shown them no mercy, either—nor had their dat, who’d told them all along they were headed for heartbreak.

  When Rhoda stood on tiptoe to brush his cheek with a kiss, Ben stepped back. He took hold of her arms before they wound around his neck and gently pushed her away.

  “Rhoda, you’ve got to hear me out now,” he said firmly. “Ya don’t want to fall for me on account of—”

  “It’ll be so perfect, Ben!” she insisted. “Mamma thinks you’re gonna be her fella, but she’s way too old for ya! Folks’ll squawk about her makin’ a fool of herself—”

  “How old do ya think I am, Rhoda?” He hadn’t intended to sound so gruff, but it was the only way he knew to make her pay attention.

  Her brow puckered. Oh, but Ben could believe she’d given a few of the local fellows the what for! Rhoda Lantz was so far ahead of them in so many ways, they didn’t know how lacking they were. “Why does that matter?” she demanded. “Older fellas marry younger gals all the time.”

  “Like the bishop wantin’ to hitch up with your mamm? ”

  “That’s disgustin’! You think so, too!” Rhoda retorted. “Why are ya tryin’ to—”

  “If Hiram’s fifty-five and your mother’s forty, that’s fifteen years between them,” Ben calculated aloud.

  “It’s not so much his age as his attitude that makes Hiram Knepp an old goat!”

  Ben tried not to laugh at the disrespectful remark she’d just made. He hated to burst this pretty girl’s bubble, but she needed a strong dose of reality. “So that means if you’re twenty-one and I’m well into bein’ thirty-five,” he countered, keeping his voice as kind as he could, “what’s that tell ya?”

  Rhoda’s eyes looked the size of salad plates. “You’re just sayin’ that to get rid of me!” She backed away, her lip quivering. “That’s the meanest—Ben Hooley, any woman with eyes can see you’re not more than twenty-five! Ya can’t be!”