Autumn Winds

by Charlotte Hubbard

  “Happy to do it, just like I’m happy my son’s married such a fine girl. It’ll keep the grandchildren close at hand, too.”

  Naomi, bless her, had the best of intentions saying that, yet it was one more phase Rachel would be entering, leaving Rhoda behind. Rhoda waved to everyone and then up the lane she started, thinking to talk with her three uncles. Mose Miller, Paul Raber, and Wilmer Byler stood at the corral assessing the many fine horses their guests had driven here. Several of the horses had been retired from racetracks when Amish families bought them and trained them to haul buggies.

  The clip-clop! clip-clop! behind her made her turn. Here came Hiram Knepp, driving one of his majestic Belgians hitched to a painted blue wagon that shone in the sun. The stallion’s harness ornaments glistened as he shook his massive head and came to a halt at the bishop’s command. Lo and behold, when Hiram lowered a ramp from the back of the wagon, Josh and Joey dashed down it with a wild whoop, holding large milk bottles with nipples. Nazareth and Jerusalem Hooley, who had Sara and Timmy in tow, followed with two more bottles of milk. The two women were laughing as Hiram handed them down the ramp, as though they’d enjoyed quite a ride from the bishop’s stables.

  Now, there’s a sight! Hiram’s steppin’out with his fancy wagon and tack like he’s been showin’ off that stallion in a parade.

  Her three uncles didn’t intend to miss this chance to admire such horseflesh, so they left their spot at the corral fence.

  “This one of your studs, Hiram?” Uncle Paul called out.

  “Mighty fine-lookin’ fella, too,” Uncle Mose joined in. “Must stand at least eighteen or nineteen hands.”

  Hiram patted the huge horse’s muscled shoulder. “You’re looking at Goliath. His buddy, Saul, is back in the stable yet. Wedding or not, they need some exercise each day.”

  The bishop turned then to Ben Hooley’s aunts. “You ladies know the best method for getting these goats into the trailer, so tell me what to do when—”

  “Once the children have fed them, if all of you fellas—that means you, too, Joey and Josh—form a circle around them, we can walk them right on over,” Jerusalem instructed them. “As long as you don’t make any sudden moves or loud noises, they’ll be real happy to move along with ya.”

  Rhoda leaned against the nearest tree to take this in . . . a scene where the Knepp twins held milk bottles for the scrambling, hungry goats while Nazareth helped Sara and little Timmy feed the other two. Had she ever observed such orderly behavior in this family, even while their mamm, Linda, was alive? And had she ever heard the bishop ask women about the best way of doing something? And why, when he had a stable full of draft horses, had Hiram hitched up Goliath in his best tack?

  “Well now. This looks interestin’.” Annie Mae Knepp sidled up beside Rhoda, observing her younger brothers and sisters—and her dat. “Have ya talked much with those Hooley sisters, Rhoda? Real nice, they are . . . volunteerin’ to help with those goats, and the cookin’, and even sayin’ they’d help Joey and Josh learn to write their alphabet so they’ll be better scholars when they start school next year.”

  “Jah, they’re jumpin’ right in,” Rhoda agreed. “The way Ben tells it, they came along to keep house for Ira and Luke while the mill gets built, and then they’ll head back to Lancaster.”

  Annie Mae squinted, watching the way Nazareth gently held Timmy over the pen so he could feed a tan-and-white kid. “Oh, I’m hopin’ they’ll stay a gut long while,” she murmured. Then the bishop’s daughter looked at Rhoda with a wistful smile. “Can ya imagine how wild it’s been with Linda gone and Dat out bein’ a bishop and tendin’ to horse sales and what-all? Nellie and I sometimes talk of walkin’ away from it, but she needs to finish school.”

  Rhoda’s eyes widened, but she let the bishop’s daughter talk. Annie Mae wasn’t going all moony over Luke Hooley, either. She sounded older than Mamma and a lot less cheerful—and who wouldn’t, being in charge of the Knepp household?

  “The twins never listen to us—do exactly the opposite of what we say—and the two littlest ones are always underfoot, grabbin’ our legs and cryin’ while we’re tryin’ to cook and clean up.” Annie Mae watched closely as the men, including her brothers and her dat, formed a tight line while Uncle Daniel folded back a side of the portable pen.

  Then Jerusalem clapped her hands. “Come along, Billy! You too, Pearl and Matilda! Bessie, step lively, now!”

  The little goats trotted eagerly into the movable, human circle as it closed around them. They obviously knew their names, just as they knew what Jerusalem expected of them.

  Annie Mae chuckled. “And who’d’ve thought the high-and-mighty Hiram Knepp would be linkin’ arms with your uncles, mindin’ a woman just like those goats are? Looks like he’s playin’ ring-around-the-rosy.”

  Rhoda laughed. It was something to watch, as her uncles and the bishop started toward the back of the wagon, taking baby steps so Joey and Josh could keep up at the back of the circle. “They make a gut team, those fellas, when they’re all not tryin’ to go their own way—like they do at home.”

  Annie Mae turned to look at her. “And that’s the way of it, ain’t so? While I’m real happy for Rachel, I’m not so sure I ever want to get hitched,” she mused aloud. “I’ve had enough of a man bossin’ me and bein’ my constant preacher and—well, maybe I’d see it different if Dat weren’t the bishop . . . and if Mamm had been happier.”

  Rhoda wondered about that. No matter what his position, Hiram Knepp would insist that everyone around him—especially his wife and children—rise to his expectations. It came as no surprise that Annie Mae, known for running around with lots of boys, might not want to marry, but she’d never been one to express her feelings—at least not to Rhoda.

  “Probably time to head back inside,” Annie Mae remarked, gazing toward the Brennemans’ workshop. “That cake your mamm made is no doubt the best wedding cake ever, and they say Preacher Tom’s made his ice cream—”

  “Jah, tubs and tubs of it.”

  “—so let’s go enjoy the party!” Annie Mae brightened as they walked. “It’s probably gonna be mighty different for ya, now that Rachel will be ridin’ off with Micah the next several weekends, to collect their gifts.”

  “I’ve been thinkin’ about that a lot.”

  “So what’re ya gonna do when you’re not workin’ at the café? I mean, besides the laundry and housekeepin’.”

  Rhoda was amazed at how friendly Annie Mae seemed today . . . how she seemed to crave girl talk even though Luke Hooley had asked to sit with her at supper. “I haven’t thought much about it. What with winter comin’ on, maybe I should start somethin’.”

  “Do ya crochet?”

  “Jah, but it’s been ever so long.”

  “For me, too.” Annie Mae glanced back and let out an abrupt chuckle. “Would ya look at that! Nazareth’s walkin’ the kids toward the café door, like maybe they’re gonna help the cooks, and her sister’s on the wagon seat beside Dat.”

  Rhoda’s eyebrows rose and she turned quickly. Something about the . . . coziness of that couple on the bright blue wagon made her grin. “Now what do ya think of that? Maybe he’ll leave Mamma alone now. I mean—well, I didn’t intend for that to sound so—”

  “Oh, I’ve never felt sorrier for anybody, the way Dat’s made so many scenes about marryin’ your mamm, and her sayin’ right out she’s not interested.” Annie Mae’s expression was thoughtful as they stopped just before going into the party. “Maybe if the Hooley sisters help out around our place—and keep Dat, um—occupied—I’ll have some time to crochet, like I was sayin’. Nellie makes all manner of crocheted animals, and I keep tellin’ her she should ask Mary Schrock to sell them in her shop.”

  Rhoda blinked. The crowd inside was starting to sing—that was Seth Brenneman’s clear, mellow voice leading off. She suddenly realized that after this unexpected chat with a girl she would never have pegged as an avid crocheter, she felt a lot better than
when she’d left the shop a while ago. “I like this idea, Annie Mae. Afghans are my favorite project, so maybe I’ll make one for Rachel. Let me know when ya want to start.”

  “I’ll do that! Nellie’ll be tickled to get out, if—we can come to your house, I hope?”

  A smile warmed Rhoda’s face. Wasn’t it a fine thing to have two girls wanting to come over, hoping she and Mamma would welcome their company? Suddenly the long winter days ahead didn’t seem so . . . lonely. And if Mamma would be spending her spare time with Ben—and Annie Mae was not keeping company with Luke Hooley—well, she and the Knepp girls might spend some evenings becoming better friends.

  “Let’s start this week,” Rhoda replied eagerly. “We’ve got a big basket of yarn stuck away. Just been too busy runnin’ the Sweet Seasons and gettin’ ready for the wedding to sit around crochetin’.”

  “I can’t wait, Rhoda!”

  And wasn’t that something? As they went inside and walked down the aisle between the tables, where the boys were singing on one side and the girls on the other, the music swelled within Rhoda and she joined in on the chorus. Rachel’s expression welcomed her back—told her she’d been missed. And when she saw Mamma in the back corner singing along, beaming, everything felt right again.

  It’ll all work out for me, Lord, she mused as her gaze swept the huge roomful of friends. With their faces raised and their voices rising into the rafters, it seemed an almost heavenly place to be. Could angels sing any more sweetly about love and bearing each other’s burdens?

  Rhoda sighed happily. She felt free again. Contented. And for that she thanked God.

  Chapter 20

  Early Monday morning, Miriam walked down the driveway holding her shawl around her: the wind was kicking up. The treetops swayed crazily and she hoped it wouldn’t be another day when one of their large, old trees fell on something. About three weeks ago when that had happened, Ben Hooley had blown into her life, and with Rachel married now, she had seen enough change for one season. It felt comforting to enter the café’s kitchen and get back to her work again.

  Miriam paused inside the door. The bakery had been closed for five days, so a long list of orders awaited her, but she allowed herself a few moments to let the kitchen’s peacefulness seep into her soul. Bless them, the Hooley sisters were set on being perfect, helpful houseguests, but they tended to take things over, assuming she would welcome their help. Here, she was in control—at least for the next couple of hours before Naomi, Rachel, and Rhoda showed up for work.

  Miriam took several pounds of hamburger from the freezer, thinking it would be the perfect day for soup on the lunch menu. As she started large batches of dough for sticky buns and pastries, her body eased into its familiar routine. In the apartment above the smithy, lights came on . . . Ben was taking his brothers to meet with Derek Shotwell today, and the two aunts said they were going to Hiram’s first thing, to begin the fall cleaning with Annie Mae.

  Miriam chuckled. If Nazareth and Jerusalem Hooley offered to tackle her fall cleaning, she’d be all too happy to let them! The wedding had tired her; the noise and commotion of constant family contact for these past several days had worn her down—which wasn’t something most Amish women would notice, as their homes swarmed with children and perhaps three generations every day. Moses and Paul had questioned her need to work so many hours, to the point she’d been glad to see her sisters’ families go home. They had no idea how her business had liberated her—or maybe they did, and they hadn’t expressed their disapproval directly.

  A tapping on the window made her look up. Ben’s face was pressed to the glass. He wiggled his fingers, grinning, and that made Miriam grin, too. “Come on in!” she called out.

  He stepped inside and inhaled deeply. “How is it that your place smells so gut and mine smells like three bachelor brothers are bunkin’ there?”

  “That question sorta answers itself, ain’t so?” Miriam turned the dough out of her mixer bowl onto the floured counter and began to knead it. “And would those bachelor brothers like to eat their breakfast here before they drive to the bank?”

  “Don’t want to be any trouble, what with you catchin’ up on orders—”

  “Ben Hooley, when it’s trouble for me to cook a meal, will ya drop me into my pine box?”

  He slipped his arms lightly around her shoulders as she worked, and it felt . . . heavenly. Curious family members had seen her with Ben at various times over the weekend, and to avoid their questions she’d made a point of not seeming overly affectionate or interested in him.

  Ben kissed her temple. “Ya must be the most generous, understandin’ woman I’ve ever met, Miriam. Truth be told, the boys were askin’ if somebody else could cook their eggs this mornin’, as I tend to set the fire too high. Or I get busy makin’ the toast and forget to flip them, or—”

  “Ya need a woman in your life, Ben.” Miriam bit her lip after that slipped out, yet weren’t they past the stage of tiptoeing around such a sentiment?

  “You’re right. Are ya applyin’ for that position?”

  Miriam raised an eyebrow, pleased to be bantering with him in this way again. “I’d not be your ordinary, everyday wife, ya know. I intend to keep runnin’ my bakery and feedin’ all manner of other fellas who come here feelin’ the same way about my food as you do.”

  He shrugged playfully. “As long as it’s just food you’re servin’ up, I’ll be all right with that. I’ll be sittin’ alongside those men most mornin’s, ain’t so? And besides”—he paused until she met his gaze, his golden-brown eyes mere inches from hers—“if it was an ordinary wife I wanted, I could’ve settled down years ago.”

  Miriam’s heart thrummed. She gripped the warm, pliant ball of dough she had been kneading. “I love you, Ben,” she whispered.

  His smile went lopsided. Then his eyes misted over. “Miriam, are ya sure? I don’t want ya thinkin’—”

  “Oh, if I was thinkin’, I might never follow what my heart truly wanted,” she murmured. “But, jah, while ya were away I came to realize how much I wanted ya in my life. And with all my family here, askin’ about my future and hintin’ I should seek out another husband—”

  “Don’t say ya want me just because your brothers think ya need a man takin’ care of ya, Miriam. I’m Amish, jah, but I know better than to trap ya with tradition, thinkin’ I’ll make ya happy that way.”

  Miriam chuckled as her hands and arms again found the rhythm of kneading the dough. Wasn’t it wonderful, the way Ben had figured out so much about her already? “Moses and Paul mean well. They believe family comes first, and to them that implies a house that’s orderly; the husband sits at the head of the table and the woman perty much works her day around keepin’ him and his kids fed and clothed.”

  Ben chuckled. “Oh, I’ll be wantin’ a few other things from ya, too, perty girl.”

  Tingles shot up her spine. He was standing too close not to notice the gray in her hair and the crow’s-feet around her eyes, so maybe . . . maybe she shouldn’t worry about those details anymore. Movement outside the window caught her attention and she cleared her throat purposefully. “Company’s comin’. Better turn me loose before—”

  “Let them see us the way we are, Miriam. There’s no shame in showin’ affection for a woman ya intend to hitch up with.”

  “Ya haven’t asked me yet.” Oh, but that was a brazen thing to say! Yet Miriam playfully held his gaze.

  “You’re right. I’m gonna keep ya guessin’ as to the where and the when,” he replied with a chuckle. “We’ll let things simmer a bit—”

  A knock on the door made them jump, but Ben’s arms remained loosely around her shoulders. “Come on in, fellas,” he called toward the door. “I’ve got Miriam all sweetened up, so if ya behave yourselves, she just might cook ya breakfast.”

  A double chuckle preceded the two younger Hooley brothers through the door. They stopped short when they saw how Ben was holding Miriam from behind as she rolled her dough ba
ll inside a buttered bowl to rise.

  “Didn’t mean to interrupt—”

  “Maybe we should wait for ya to finish—”

  “You pups should be takin’ notes,” Ben said with a laugh. “There’s a certain talent to winnin’ a gut woman, and with all the girls in Willow Ridge ready to check ya out, you’d best be sharpenin’ your skills.” Ben bussed Miriam’s cheek and then backed away. “And what gets you fellas outta bed so early? The birds aren’t even awake yet.”

  “We could ask you the same thing, Bennie-boy,” Luke teased. His low voice reverberated with laughter he was holding back. “But someone we know lit the lamps while he was primpin’ and he was in such a toot to come over here, he left them burnin’. And besides that, the wind’s whippin’ a tree branch against the wall beside my bed.”

  “Jah, we’re in for a storm later,” Ira agreed, nodding emphatically. “And a storm’s what we’ll get before we leave for the bank, too, if the apartment’s not redded up when the aunts come over. We’d better fortify ourselves with gut food and allow plenty of time for the big cleanup job.”

  Miriam laughed. At thirty and twenty-eight Luke and Ira had left home for the first time . . . didn’t have wives looking after them, but knew quite well what Jerusalem and Nazareth expected. “And maybe you’re just a wee bit excited about gettin’ your mill business goin’ today, ain’t so?”

  Luke’s dimples came out to play when he smiled. He looked a lot like Ben but stood taller and thinner. “And we thank ya again for lettin’ loose of some land, too. I was turnin’ flip-flops when Ben told me your price—”

  “And when we walked the place this weekend, plannin’ out where to put the buildin’,” Ira joined in, “we realized that Ben hadn’t done the place justice. It’s real perty in this part of the country, what with the trees turnin’ and the river racin’ over the rocks.”

  “We’re glad Micah Brenneman’s makin’ time to get the place up and enclosed so quick, too,” Luke continued. “Once the roof’s on and the windows are in, we can live in our new rooms upstairs so you can have your loft back.”