Autumn Winds

by Charlotte Hubbard

  As they sat down, Ben hoped the girls would see his brothers’ mill as progress rather than a takeover of their family’s land. When they bowed their heads to pray, he wanted her wedding plans to be the priority for their dinnertime discussion. “So will the ceremony be here?” he asked as he took some of the yam casserole. “How many do ya think might be comin’?”

  “Upwards of a couple hundred, maybe,” Rachel replied happily. “Which means we’ll be as busy as Leah’s bees reddin’ up the house for the ceremony and linin’ up folks to help with the meal.”

  “The dinner’ll be served in the Brenneman’s big shop,” Rhoda continued as she helped herself to the chicken. “Those fellas have a lot of reddin’ up to do. But once they move their big saws and wagons and what-all, we’re hopin’ we can feed everybody in two sittin’s.”

  Rebecca was listening with wide eyes. “You’ll have the wedding here in the house? How on Earth can you seat everyone?”

  Miriam and her girls chuckled. “You’ll see how all the wall partitions between these downstairs rooms lower to make room for the pew benches—”

  “And we’d love it if you’d help us cover the tables and set the places, a couple of days before,” Rhoda added. “It’s lots more fun when a bunch of us girls do it.”

  “So, Mamma, are you making all that food? My English mom would’ve freaked at the thought of so many people cramming into her house—and at having to feed them, too!”

  Miriam laughed. “I’ve helped with many a wedding. And I bake a lot of the local girls’ cakes now—but, bless her, Naomi has taken charge of the food. She and the Schrocks from the quilt shop will be cookin’ in the Sweet Seasons kitchen. We’re closin’ the café for the Wednesday before the Thursday of the wedding, and the Friday after,” she explained. “Usin’ the café’s ovens and fridges and dishwashers’ll make it easier for all the helpers.”

  “And we’re gettin’ sixty-five chickens from Reuben Reihl,” Rachel added, her eyes aglow. “He’ll have them all butchered and ready to cook—”

  “Better him than me,” Rebecca remarked with a grimace.

  Rhoda laughed. “Jah, I’m a lot better at eatin’ chickens than killin’ them. We’ve got apples from the orchard set aside to make the applesauce ahead of time. And along with the celery for creamin’, Aunt Leah planted us an extra row of potatoes for mashin’.”

  Rachel was nodding happily, spooning more beets onto her plate. “Mamma’s sister—our aunt Deborah—makes wonderful-gut breads and jellies, so she’s bringin’ those when they come in from Jamesport. Mamma’s makin’ the pies, of course,” she added as her grin widened. “But best of all, she’s makin’ us one of her tall, perty coconut cakes!”

  “And it’ll be a special privilege, too.” Miriam smiled and then focused on Rebecca again. “So ya see how lots of hands will make light work of all that cookin’? And I’m so glad you’re wantin’ to join us, Rebecca, on account of how many of my Raber family and the Lantzes have heard about ya comin’ back to us. They can’t wait to see ya again after all these years! Ya weren’t even three when ya washed down the river, so they’ve got a lot of catchin’ up to do!”

  They ate for a moment and passed the platter of chicken around. Ben closed his eyes over the tender, seasoned meat, once again grateful to be included in this family’s meal—and in their future plans. “Sounds like the whole town’s been preparin’ for your wedding for months now, Rachel. It’ll be the biggest day of your life, and I know you and Micah’ll be real happy. He’s a gut fella.”

  Rachel nodded, but then looked at him and her mother. “What was I hearin’ when Hiram and the preachers were back in the kitchen the other day? Somethin’ about havin’ him confess on the next preachin’ Sunday . . . maybe bein’ put under the ban just a few days before our wedding?”

  Although Ben had plenty of opinions about Hiram’s actions of late, he let Miriam answer that one while he savored a bite of sweet, buttery yams that had been layered with apple slices.

  “Don’t ya worry about that, Rachel. Preacher Tom’ll make sure your big day goes on, even if the bishop from New Haven or Morning Star comes to perform the ceremony.” Miriam smiled at her daughters, all three of them seated across the table: Rebecca, wearing jeans and a T-shirt, between her Plain sisters in their cape dresses, aprons, and kapps. “He’s a gut friend and he thinks the world of you girls.”

  Rhoda grinned. “Do ya suppose he’d make ice cream for the supper that night? Nobody’s ice cream tastes like Tom’s!”

  Miriam’s laugh had a sly edge to it. “Maybe I’ve already asked him about that. If my Rachel gets her cake, my Rhoda should have her favorite treat, too.”

  Rebecca was following this conversation closely as she ate, fascinated by how this big Amish celebration would take place. “So, do you have a wedding party, and flowers, and music?”

  “Well, some of that. For side-sitters—those are the gut friends who sit up front with us during the ceremony—we’re havin’ Rhoda and Aaron Brenneman, and Katie Zook and Bram Kanagy,” Rachel explained. “But no bouquets, and no wedding rings. We sing some hymns, on account of how this is a regular church service along with the wedding. But there’s no organ or piano, ya know.”

  “Jah, it’ll be three hours or more by the time the preachers deliver two sermons and the bishop does the wedding ceremony,” Rhoda chimed in. “And what with folks stayin’ after the main meal to visit—on account of so many comin’ from a distance—it’s an all-day party.”

  “And first thing Friday mornin’, Micah and I clean it all up—with help, of course!” Rachel laughed at Rebecca’s amazed expression. “Then, on weekends for the next month or two, we visit the aunts and uncles and other kin who live out and around, to collect our wedding presents.”

  “No honeymoon?” Rebecca looked from Rhoda to Rachel. “This is a big switch from my friends’ destination weddings, where everybody flies to some exotic beach or an island in the Caribbean.”

  Miriam passed Ben the fruit salad. “It’s a family gatherin’, first and foremost, because to us, family means everythin’,” she remarked. Then she shook her head. “Sounds like a lot more fuss, arrangin’ for so many folks to fly off hither and yon.”

  “It’s expensive, too.” Rebecca sighed. “But I’ve got no wedding in my future, so I’m glad you want me to come to your big day, Sister.”

  “Oh, it wouldn’t be the same without ya!” Rachel exclaimed.

  “You’ve got a lot of cousins to meet!” Rhoda added.

  Rachel and Rhoda embraced the girl between them . . . affection such as Ben had rarely seen displayed in his own family. He reached for Miriam’s hand under the table, gratified when she squeezed it. She, too, was visibly affected by the sight of her three daughters enjoying each other so much: her eyes softened and she quickly thumbed away a tear.

  “Oh, Mamma, did we upset ya with somethin’ we said?” Rhoda asked, which made all three girls focus on Miriam, wide-eyed and concerned.

  “Puh!” Miriam waved them off, chuckling. “It’s such a wonderful-gut thing to see you girls gettin’ on so well. But it’ll take some gettin’ used to, callin’ Rachel Mrs. Brenneman and not havin’ her under my roof anymore.”

  “Which makes me wonder if I should bunk in my wagon after I get back from Lancaster so you and Rhoda can have that apartment, like you’d planned.” Ben figured it was a good time to set that matter straight; he didn’t intend to inconvenience Miriam—or to intrude upon the newlyweds, either.

  Rachel and Rhoda’s eyes widened. “You’ll be leavin’ us?”

  “You’re not comin’ to the wedding?”

  Ben chuckled at the way the two sisters responded as one person without missing a beat. “Well, I let a cat out of the bag there, didn’t I?” He gazed at Miriam, whose slight nod gave him the go-ahead to reveal his plans for the land along the river. “First off, jah, I’ll be leavin’ but I hope to be back for the wedding. And I’ll have my two younger brothers, Ira and Luke, alo
ng if you ladies approve of an idea your mamm and I have been discussin’.”

  The girls all looked at each other, their blue eyes alight with speculation.

  “Ben’s been lookin’ at some of our land along the river,” Miriam began in a low voice. “Right at the spot where Rebecca got washed away, truth be told. He thinks the rapids would make a fine place to build a new gristmill for specialty grains.”

  “My brothers have always wanted to start up a mill, but back home there’s no property available,” Ben continued. He looked at the two girls in matching blue dresses, so much like their mother must have been at that age. “So, if it’s all right with you that we buy a parcel of your dat’s land, I’ve been talkin’ to Micah about constructin’ the mill. Take your time and think about it, because I want ya to believe it’s a gut idea before I call my brothers. It means you’ll have new neighbors right close.”

  “Does it mean you’ll be stayin’ in Willow Ridge, too, Ben?” Rhoda’s gaze passed between him and her mother, gauging what he might be saying between the lines.

  “Jah, I see a real gut future for my smithin’ business here,” he replied with a sidelong glance at Miriam. “And maybe a fine future on a more personal level—but I’m not rushin’ your mamm on that one.”

  When Miriam looked away to hide a grin, all three girls began to giggle.

  “And just so you’ll know,” Ben continued, still grasping Miriam’s hand beneath the table, “we’ve already managed to irritate Hiram Knepp with this mill idea. He’s sayin’ he won’t allow it, while Derek Shotwell has agreed to work with us on the legal details, handlin’ the money so it’s all done fair and square.”

  “So there ya have it,” Rachel replied with a firm nod.

  “Jah, it’s history repeatin’ itself,” Rhoda remarked with a chuckle. “Mamma makes one little plan that wasn’t originally Hiram’s idea and the bishop pounces like a cat on a mouse.”

  Seated between her sisters, Rebecca considered what she’d heard. “Does Hiram really have the power to tell you what to do with your land, Mamma? Or to tell Ben he can’t bring a new business to Willow Ridge?”

  Miriam smiled at her English-raised daughter’s astute question. “Bishops have their own way of doin’ things, from one district to the next. I see Hiram’s attitude as a reaction to the way Ben has already made so many friends here so fast—”

  “Especially you, Mamma.”

  “Jah, he doesn’t like it one little bit that another fella’s lookin’ ya over,” Rachel declared.

  Rachel, Rhoda, and Rebecca all looked thoroughly peeved at this new example of Hiram trying to box up Miriam like a carryout pie and take her home for himself. “Those things aside, nothin’ about this mill’s gonna happen unless you girls are all right with it,” Ben repeated.

  As Rachel and Rhoda pondered his request, Rebecca began to smile. “From what I’ve seen of Willow Ridge, a new mill sounds like an opportunity for other local folks to work there—”

  “Jah, there’s that,” Ben confirmed.

  “—but it’s also a great way for Mamma to expand her bakery menu,” she went on, thinking aloud. “Sure, Amish bakeries are known for their pies and sticky buns, but not many of them offer whole grain breads or the healthy alternatives lots of people want these days. If customers can indulge their sweet tooth or eat something that’s good for them—or both—you’ll have something for everyone. Folks’ll come to the Sweet Seasons knowing they’ll feel good about whatever they choose.”

  “Well now, would ya listen to my college daughter! I hadn’t even thought of such a thing,” Miriam said with an excited grin. “The Sweet Seasons would be a perfect place to sell bags of the mill’s whole grain flours and cereals, too. And we could point out which grains we use in our menu items each day.”

  “That’s such a gut idea!” Rhoda exclaimed. “Just this week I was thinkin’ how, week in and week out, I write the same menu specials on the whiteboard. I like it!

  “And ya know what?” she went on, her blue eyes a-sparkle. “The specialty grains would be a gut thing to advertise on a website, too. If that’s Hiram’s way to keep his Belgian business goin’, why shouldn’t we have one, too, Mamma? It’s not like any of us owns a computer or knows how websites work—except Rebecca here,” she added emphatically. “So we’d not be goin’ against the Ordnung. We’d be followin’ our bishop’s own example. Ain’t so?”

  “And a mill would be somethin’ for people to see!” Rachel continued in a voice rising with her excitement. “Think how many folks would visit Willow Ridge, curious about the new mill, and then eat at our café, and see the furniture the Brennemans make, and look at the Schrocks’ quilts next door, and shop at Zook’s Market. So Ben’s brothers need a website for the new mill, too!”

  Rebecca was following her sisters’ remarks with a dreamlike smile on her face. “The Mill at Willow Ridge,” she murmured. “Now that has a ring to it. We’ll call their flours and cereals artisan grains—and Mamma’s new recipes will be artisan breads, too. Nowadays they’re all the rage in high-end grocery stores. Amish artisan bread . . . now there’s a new angle to your product line, Mamma!”

  Ben’s heart had swelled with every new idea, while Miriam’s pulse had accelerated as he kept hold of her hand. “All I needed to get this business off and runnin’ was to turn you girls loose with the idea. So it’s all right to call Luke and Ira?”

  “Oh, jah!”

  “It sounds wonderful-gut, Ben!”

  “I’ll have those websites mocked up for you by the end of next week,” Rebecca said with a nod. Then a grin flickered on her lips. “So, Ben . . . are Luke and Ira single? And do they, um, look anything like you?”

  Miriam and her girls burst into laughter that rang around the walls of the kitchen, and Ben laughed, too. What a fine feeling, to be included in this family’s fun and to know his brothers would be a welcome addition to Willow Ridge. He couldn’t wait to get to the phone. He hadn’t been this excited about a project since he’d had his special wagon built to carry his smithing business wherever he wanted to go.

  And wasn’t it God’s doing that his travels had brought him here?

  Ben smiled at the three identical, beaming faces awaiting his answers. “Jah, Ira and Luke are single—unless somebody’s caught their fancy since I last talked to them a couple of weeks ago.” He glanced at Miriam, who was still chuckling. “And as for looks? Well, I’m no expert on what makes girls gawk at a man, but my brothers have the same sort of hair . . . faces similar to mine. Twenty-eight and thirty, they are. They’ll always be my pesky little brothers—more trouble than they’re worth, I tell them. But maybe you girls can change that.”

  “Now Ben, how can ya think we’d ever try to change a man?” Miriam teased. “We’ve been taught to say jah—to submit and obey the fellas who marry us. And we do that, too. Mostly.”

  Again the Lantz triplets got the giggles and their mamm chortled right along with them. Ben knew of so many Amish homes where laughter and displays of affection were rare . . . where family members stoically bore their burdens as the will of God, without seeking help or confiding in one another. And while that was one way of living the Plain faith, he was glad the Lantzes had learned to make their own way—depending upon each other rather than accepting a man’s decisions for their futures. Maybe such notions smacked of New Amish beliefs, or even crossed the line into Mennonite ideas, yet Ben sensed he would never meet a more devout, inspired woman than Miriam Lantz.

  He eased his hand away from hers. “Shall we have the evenin’ Bible readin’ before I call my brothers?” he asked. “I’d be pleased to read, or just as happy to listen.”

  “I’ll read!” Rhoda popped up from her chair. “I’ll decide which verses while ya clear away the dirty dishes and such.”

  Rachel rolled her eyes as she began to stack plates. “Sounds like a gut excuse to get outta reddin’ up, if ya ask me.”

  “Puh!” her Plain sister teased. “Ya just wish you�
��d thought of it first!”

  When Ben started to carry the half-empty bowls of food from the table, Miriam stopped him. “Go pick whichever chair in the front room suits ya—won’t take us but a few minutes to finish here. And it’s gut to see Rhoda actin’ like her bubbly self again, ain’t so? Whatever ya told her must’ve done the trick.”

  Ben, too, had noticed Rhoda’s improved mood, and as he left the kitchen he considered how best to mention that to her. She sat on the end of the sofa where the lamp lit the dense printing of the big Bible in her lap, and as he eased into the platform rocker across the cozy room from her, she looked up at him.

  “It’s gut to see ya smilin’ again, missy,” he remarked. “I feel better about bein’ here now, knowin’ you and your mamm won’t be at odds because of me.”

  Rhoda’s winsome shrug soothed him. “Mamma and I would’ve worked it out, one way or the other. I’ve decided that jah, your bein’ thirty-five—fourteen years older—might make a difference, down the road. A couple of my friends hitched up with fellas who were older and more established,” she explained, “and they found out right quick, even after knowin’ the fellas most of their lives, that those old bachelors were used to doin’ things their way. I wanna be happy when I start up a home, ya know?”

  Ben smiled. “Your mamm didn’t raise any fools, Rhoda. And it’s the Lantz happiness that makes ya stand apart from most families I know.” He leaned back in the old rocker, savoring the way it creaked when he rocked. “A lot of Plain believers get so caught up in avoidin’ hell after they die—livin’ along a straight and narrow path—that they miss the slice of heaven they’ve got right here on this Earth.”

  Rhoda flipped the thin pages of the Bible, then ran her slender finger along the columns to find just the passage she wanted. As Ben considered his two younger brothers’ personalities, he hoped that either Ira or Luke would find Rhoda compatible. Rebecca would be a good catch, too, but it was doubtful she’d give up her computers and schooling to join the Amish Church—and that was fine. Each of the Lantz girls had a strong sense of her own talents and worth, and that seemed so much more appealing than a woman who fit herself into the mold of her husband’s expectations and beliefs.