Autumn Winds

by Charlotte Hubbard

  “Oh, jah,” she confirmed as she set napkin-wrapped silverware in front of them. “Naomi cooked up bulk sausage and mixed it with a couple kinds of cheese. Tucked it into big macaroni seashells,” she explained. “Covered it with spaghetti sauce and baked it with more cheese on top.”

  “Can’t argue with that!” Ira said. “Bring me a double order, and some of that lemon icebox pie.”

  Luke flashed her a big grin. “I second the motion.”

  “Make it three,” Ben added. “Who knew my brothers had such gut taste?”

  “Be back in a few with your food,” Rhoda confirmed. “Ya get salad from the buffet with that, too, so help yourselves.”

  On the way to the steam table, Luke stopped to shake Micah Brenneman’s hand. “So how’s married life treatin’ ya?” he teased the burly blond. “I’ll have ya know the banker gave us the thumbs-up this mornin’.”

  “Jah, the lights are all green!” Ira crowed. “Won’t be long before the mill at Willow Ridge is off the paper and sittin’ perty on the riverbank!”

  “Congratulations!” Micah said, and his brothers all nodded, adding their cheerful remarks. “We’ve got a Mennonite fella with a dozer and the know-how for settin’ the pilin’s and pourin’ your foundation. I’ll tell him you’re gut to go.”

  “I’m thinkin’ we ought to give these Hooley brothers a big, official welcome to Willow Ridge!” Matthias Wagler called out from the cash register. He began to clap his hands, and the applause caught on like wildfire all over the dining room.

  While his brothers stood there, amazed, Ben’s heart overflowed with gratitude. He flashed the okay sign at Matthias; he had shod the harness maker’s horses and had strengthened the axles on the big wagons his brother Adam hauled his painting and flooring tools in. Adam Wagler was a remodeler who often worked with the Brenneman boys, papering, painting, and finishing hardwood floors in the places they built, so Ben sensed Adam would have a hand in the living quarters and the mill’s sales room, as well.

  Ben also glanced toward the kitchen, tickled to see that Miriam and Naomi had come to the pass-through window to applaud with their customers. Oh, but Miriam’s face had a fine glow to it! She was a woman in love, for sure and for certain. And as he turned further, Ben saw that Tom and Gabe were clapping, too, while Hiram looked on with a nod. When the ruckus died down, they all jumped at a big clap of thunder. The dining room had dimmed with the darkening of the sky and the trees outside were swaying in the wind.

  “Well, looks like we’re gonna be here for a bit,” Bram Kanagy remarked. “The sheep’ll go into the barn and I’m not much on walkin’ home through the rain.”

  “Jah,” Preacher Gabe remarked as he glanced out at the first fat raindrops. “Best to get more pie and coffee and sit tight.”

  “Pie and coffee!” Luke repeated gleefully as he looked around the dining room. “Rachel and Rhoda, I wanna buy pie and coffee all around, as thanks to these new friends who’ve made us so welcome. Can ya add that to my tab?”

  “Jah, I can do that!” Rhoda replied. “I’ll bring around a tray so everybody can choose a slice of pie—”

  “And what if we put a scoop of Preacher Tom’s ice cream on the side?” Rachel suggested. “We had some left from our wedding supper, and it’s just too gut to be sittin’ in the freezer. We’ve got vanilla and blueberry ripple.”

  Ira’s eyebrows shot up. “Do these folks know how to party, or what?”

  Another round of applause broke out—

  The slamming of the front door got everyone’s attention. In stepped Jerusalem Hooley, wearing a rain-soaked bonnet and shawl—and a scowl that warned Ben she hadn’t come to the café for lunch. She looked like a big black cat caught out in the rain. She held a Knepp twin with each hand, and the boys’ anxious expressions bespoke a serious situation as they searched the crowd for their dat.

  Before Ben could walk over to ask about her mission, his aunt spotted Hiram at the corner table. With a purposeful thunk-thunk-thunk of her stout heels on the plank floor, Jerusalem made her way between the tables with one boy ahead of her and one behind. “Bishop Knepp,” she said in a teacherly voice, “we’ve got a few things to discuss, and one mighty big question to answer.”

  Hiram blinked and stood up. “If my boys have found themselves some trouble—”

  “Oh no, it’s far worse than that,” she replied stiffly.

  “—we’ll head on home to—”

  “I’m not goin’ out in that rainstorm again to talk to anybody about anythin’!” she declared as she planted herself in front of him. “The change in the weather got the goats riled up, and when one jumped out of the pen, the others followed. Curious creatures that they are, they scattered and explored the stables—”

  “They got in with my Belgians?” Hiram’s frown matched Jerusalem’s now as he leaned down to scold his sons. “I’ve told you time and again—”

  “And you’re gonna let me finish what I’m sayin’ before ya butt in, layin’ blame where it doesn’t belong!” she replied sharply. “Goats and horses make natural companions, after all. But when the boys and I went lookin’ for the kids, tryin’ to round them up before the rain broke, to his credit, your stable manager—”

  “Jason?” the bishop breathed.

  “—jah, Mr. Schwartz came runnin’ out to see what the fuss was about, and he helped us gather up the goats,” Jerusalem continued. She was building to her climax, and the two boys who held her hands were shifting with their five-year-old excitement and energy.

  One look from their keeper made them stand absolutely still again. “We got the three nannies straightaway,” Jerusalem went on, “but Mr. Schwartz had inadvertently left a side door of the stable open. Lo and behold, your sons rushed in and found—”

  “Billy was standin’ in a big black car, Pop!” one of the twins blurted.

  “Gut thing we got there before he chewed the seat!” his brother added.

  “Jah, but when we ran at him from both sides, he pooped.”

  The café and kitchen got totally quiet, except for the fork that clattered onto the dishes Rachel was scraping. Ben bit back a snicker, as did several of the fellows near him. He knew better than to let on that he found this conversation humorous.

  Hiram’s face had gone deathly pale. He was learning: it wasn’t wise to speak out of turn while Jerusalem Hooley was teaching a lesson.

  Ben’s aunt cleared her throat. Her gaze didn’t waver. “To his credit,” she resumed in a tighter voice, “young Mr. Schwartz didn’t make up any stories by sayin’ the car belonged to him, as a Mennonite. And there’s no need for you, Bishop Knepp, to explain how you came to be the owner of a black Cadillac convertible, but I do expect to see you on your knees, come the next preachin’ Sunday.”

  Hiram’s face went from milk white to raspberry red. “You have no right—you are totally out of bounds, coming here this way to—”

  “Jah, there’s nothin’ right about it,” Jerusalem insisted. She straightened her shoulders, still gripping the twins’ hands. “The Ordnung expressly prohibits ownership of a car—as you well know, sir—so I consider this one of those teachable moments inspired by God himself.”

  Jerusalem stepped back, her gaze unwavering. “What have your young sons learned from their discovery today?” she queried in a rising voice. “And what will they carry through their lives with them, Bishop? The image of a father who humbled himself before his congregation and his God to confess his sins? Or the idea that since their dat made excuses and felt himself above punishment—or laid the blame on others—they can behave that way, too?”

  Ben held his breath. Nobody in the Sweet Seasons moved.

  After a moment, Aunt Jerusalem glanced out the nearest window. “Come along, boys,” she said in a lower voice. “The rain’s stopped for now. We’ll get on home to our goats and our fall cleanin’.”

  One of the twins caught sight of Rhoda, who’d stopped in the doorway with a tray of pie slices. Rachel was b
ehind her with a bucket of ice cream in each hand. He sucked in his breath. “Can we have—”

  “May we have,” Jerusalem corrected him.

  “May we please have some pie, Miss Hooley?” his brother hastened to ask in his sweetest voice. He looked hopefully toward Rhoda, so Jerusalem couldn’t miss the tempting sight.

  Their new teacher smiled but shook her head. “We’ll finish your room and have our noon dinner at home with your family,” she replied with a pointed glance at Hiram. “Annie Mae and Nellie were bakin’ up a nice pot roast—and pie—when we left, remember?”

  With that, Jerusalem steered the boys to the front entry again. She nodded at Ben and his brothers, and they nodded back, remaining silent until the door closed. All eyes went back to the bishop, who had remained standing, clenching and unclenching his jaw. As his silvery beard quivered at the end of his chin, it occurred to Ben that Hiram resembled a billy goat himself and it was all he could do to keep from laughing out loud.

  But this was no laughing matter. Owning a car was one of the most frowned-upon worldly sins among the Old Order Amish, and Hiram had been caught by his young sons—and called out in front of many of the same people who’d been here when Rebecca displayed the bishop’s photograph on his website. What made the situation more interesting, however, was the way Hiram hadn’t talked back; he hadn’t put Aunt Jerusalem in her place or offered any rationalizations for his behavior. The bishop stood there, staring toward the door. Then he fetched his hat from the peg on the wall.

  “We need to call a meeting. Make it this evening,” he murmured to the two preachers. Then he took money from his wallet, tossed it on the table, and walked out of the Sweet Seasons without another word.

  Gabe struggled to his feet, his face lined with age. Tom rose and fetched the older man’s cane and their black hats, and then tossed more money on the table. “Sorry to be leavin’ the celebration,” he said to Luke with a grim smile. “Guess this just goes to show that ya can’t tell what the wind might whip into motion. It didn’t toss a tree through Miriam’s window this time, but we for sure and for certain have a mess to clean up.”

  After the two preachers left, conversations resumed among the customers . . . speculation about whether Hiram would indeed confess at a members’ meeting this coming Sunday. . . remarks about how Jerusalem Hooley and her sister had taken over the Knepp family while Hiram had put up no apparent resistance.

  Matthias Wagler spoke up. “Rhoda, let’s bring on that pie and coffee now. No sense in lettin’ that gut ice cream melt.”

  Ben and his brothers returned to their table rather than fetching their salad. “Seems like a sign we ought to eat dessert first,” Ira remarked as he grinned at the people around him. “So tell me—do you Missouri folks always stir up this much excitement over a meal?”

  Chuckles erupted around them. Ben smiled up at Rhoda as she presented the tray of pie, and he snatched a wedge of blackberry with a sugar-dusted crust. He pointed to the blueberry ripple ice cream and Rachel placed a generous scoop alongside his pie. His brothers lingered over their decision until he had to laugh. “This won’t be your only chance for Miriam’s pie, ya know,” he teased them. “We’ll most likely eat our dinner here every noon, and there’ll be all manner of pies to try, over time. Unless you’d rather have me do the cookin’ to save money, of course.”

  Luke chose a slice of cherry while Ira went for French apple with a streusel topping. “If we get to the point we can’t afford the prices on this menu,” Luke remarked as he cut his first bite, “we’ve got no business buildin’ a mill here.”

  Ira let out an ecstatic sigh, closing his eyes. “I don’t care if I have to do the dishes to pay,” he murmured, “for pie this gut, I’d do anythin’!”

  “Jah? Anythin’?” Rachel scooped the vanilla ice cream they pointed at, grinning at the youngest Hooley. “How about ya ask my sister Rhoda for a date?”

  Ira chewed for a moment, while she served ice cream to the Kanagy boys. “Did she make this apple pie?”

  “Rhoda’s our cream pie girl. Banana cream, coconut cream, chocolate, pumpkin spice, lemon ice box—”

  “Oh, stop!” Luke teased. “The poor boy’s overloadin’ on sugar just hearin’ about all those pies he’ll have to try.”

  Rachel shrugged, chuckling. “Maybe you’ll be needin’ bigger pants then. Rhoda could sew ya up some of those, too.”

  “I’ll think on it,” Ira replied. His cheeks were tinged with pink as he mopped up the melted vanilla ice cream with his last few bites of pie.

  When Rachel moved on, Ben leaned across the table to chuckle at his brother. “What’s this I see? The youngest Hooley hooligan bein’ embarrassed about a girl?”

  “Ya know better than that, Bennie!” he shot back. “And ya won’t catch me kissin’ her in the phone shanty, either!”

  Ben blinked. Why wasn’t he surprised that his brothers had spied on him and Miriam this morning? “Watch out, now. You’re settin’ yourself up for payback.”

  “Oh, my word, would ya look at this?” Rhoda had passed around all the pie and returned to the corner table to clear the preachers’ dishes. “There’s two twenties and a ten on the table here! Their three meals only came to twenty-one—”

  “You girls have earned every nickel of that tip, dealin’ with Hiram lately,” Ben assured her. “Ya work hard here. I hope you’ll spend that on somethin’ you’d enjoy, Rhoda.”

  Her face lit up as she considered what he was saying. Was his younger brother paying attention to the way her blue eyes sparkled? To the way Rhoda Lantz moved with such efficiency and had a cheerful smile for everyone?

  “I know just the thing, too!” she said as she tucked the money into her skirt pocket. “Somethin’ I’ve been aimin’ to make for Rachel. I’ll fetch your stuffed shells now. Do ya still want the lemon icebox pie? I saved ya back three pieces.”

  “Jah, bring it on!” Ira replied.

  “For sure and for certain!” Luke said as he wiped his last bite of crust through the ice cream puddle on his plate.

  Ben glanced at the clock above the kitchen door, amazed that it was nearly two o’clock and time for the Sweet Seasons to close for the day. And what a day it had been! He’d parted ways with Polly Petersheim, proposed to Miriam and gotten an immediate jah! and then watched his brothers buy a parcel of land before seeing Hiram Knepp humbled beyond belief by his Aunt Jerusalem. What could possibly top all of that?

  He smiled. He had no trouble whatsoever devising ways to make this evening one of the high points of his life.

  Chapter 22

  As Rhoda hung the damp towels from helping Rachel with the supper dishes that evening, her eyes widened. “Well now, would ya look at this? I figured on Annie Mae and Nellie comin’ over to crochet, but who would’ve thought about the Hooley aunts bringin’ them?”

  Rachel chuckled. “We should never try to guess what Jerusalem Hooley might do, after the way she cornered the bishop today. Hiram must be stayin’ home with the little ones this evenin’. And that’s different, ain’t so?”

  “It’ll be interestin’ to see what comes of that conversation at the café,” Mamma agreed as she watched their four guests come up the porch steps. “Preachin’ is at Tom’s house this Sunday. We’ll have to help him redd up Friday afternoon. . . ask what he knows about Hiram confessin’ to the members instead of goin’ to the bishop in Morning Star.”

  “Jah, not many folks’ll find reason to miss this service, when word gets out about Hiram havin’ a car.” Micah rose from his seat at the head of the table, a grin tickling his lips. “At least it wasn’t Rebecca who caught him this time. He seems to be leavin’ you out of it, too, Miriam, and that’s a gut thing.”

  Rhoda hurried out to hold the door open for Annie Mae, who was carrying a bulky plastic shopping bag in each hand. All colors of yarn were jammed into the sacks, popping out the tops of them, and the sight made her glad she’d agreed to this crocheting get-together. “Come on in, girls
!” she said to Nellie and Ben’s aunts. “I’ve got extra hooks if you two would like to join us.”

  Nazareth smiled kindly. “I was tellin’ Nellie what a fine idea this was. Matter of fact, we’ve got our own crochet hooks up in the room.”

  “Jah, and after a day of deep cleanin’ and settin’ that house to rights, a little time with yarn and gut conversation sounds mighty fine.” Jerusalem Hooley removed her black bonnet and hung it on a peg before doing the same with her sister’s. “I suggested to Hiram that this would be a fine time to spend with his younger children, readin’ the evenin’s devotional and gettin’ them all four into bed if Annie Mae and Nellie just happen to be here until after dark. It wouldn’t be proper for Nazareth or me to stay over, ya know. Not that we were invited.”

  Rhoda exchanged glances with the Knepp girls. Their faces glowed with mischief, as though they had every intention of staying until their dat put their younger siblings to bed. That would be a rare treat for them.

  “This sounds like a hen party I could miss.” Micah went for his hat, smiling at them. “I’ll mosey over to the smithy and see the Hooley brothers about startin’ this mill in a day or two. I’ll take care of the horse chores and what-all outside for ya.”

  “Denki, Micah,” Mamma replied. “But it’s your house now. You’re welcome to stay and chat!”

  The tall, muscled blond rolled his eyes and blew a kiss to his new wife. “Not sure I could stand all that excitement.”

  As he jogged down the stairs, he had an air of satisfaction about him, Rhoda thought—just as her sister seemed to be floating on her own little cloud, even after a day of working at the Sweet Seasons. They had all agreed that Rachel and Micah would now spend their mornings together over breakfast before she came in to work. And if business remained brisk as the colder weather came on, it would be a good time to bring in Hannah Brenneman, Micah’s younger sister, to clear tables and work alongside her mamm.