Autumn Winds

by Charlotte Hubbard

  “Rhoda says she’s startin’ an afghan,” Mamma remarked as she slipped an arm around Rhoda’s shoulders. “I think I’ll make a few granny squares along with her just to help my fingers recall how to crochet. So what’s everyone else got in mind?”

  Nellie grinned as they all headed into the front room. “On the way over, Nazareth was sayin’ a Friendship afghan might be a fun project, what with all the yarn we’ve accumulated between us,” she recounted. “If we all make squares about the same size, any colors we want, among the seven of us we could make enough blocks for a whole afghan in an evenin’ or two!”

  “Then one of us could crochet them all together and finish the borders,” Annie Mae went on. She sounded genuinely thrilled to be here working on such a project, too. “We could either pass it around amongst ourselves to enjoy—”

  “Or we could decide who might like it for a gift,” Rachel continued in a voice rising with excitement. “Just so happens we’ve got three new fellas in Willow Ridge who’ve got no one to make their place cozy for them, so—”

  “Well, that’s a fine idea!” Miriam agreed. “And with them livin’ upstairs in the mill when it’s ready, an afghan would be a real nice present for their new rooms. A perfect way to warm up their first winter in Missouri.”

  “Or a way to get somebody’s attention, ain’t so?” Rachel added with a giggle. “Now which of you girls is interested in which Hooley brother? Knowin’, of course, that Ben’s already spoken for.”

  “Jah? How’s that?” Nellie teased. She settled into a rocking chair while her sister took the center of the couch between Rachel and Rhoda, who were watching their mother’s reaction to that question. Mamma had seemed especially bubbly today despite the rainy weather . . .

  “I’ve got to tell ya that our Bennie could hardly talk of anythin’ besides Miriam and her bakery on our way here from Lancaster,” Nazareth remarked with a girlish grin. “And after watchin’ the way his old girlfriend was tryin’ to grab him back—”

  “Now that was a scene like I’m hopin’ never to see again,” Jerusalem declared. “Common sense and a little dignity on Polly’s part would’ve been appropriate.”

  “It’s been such a pleasure to get acquainted with you, Miriam.” Nazareth chose a ball of bright blue yarn from the large basket Rhoda had brought out earlier. “And we thank you again for providing us with a room.”

  “It’s yours for as long as ya care to stay.” Mamma, too, picked up a crochet hook and plucked a half-used skein of variegated reds, oranges, and yellows from the basket. “I’m sure your family back in Lancaster’s glad ya came along to give your nephews a hand—and to let them know what’s goin’ on, too. That was a big decision for those young fellas, movin’ so far away.”

  “Jah, but the right decision, for sure and for certain.” Jerusalem nodded decisively. Her fingers deftly formed a loop of brown and she began to cover it with double-crochet clusters. “Truth be told, Nazareth and I figure to stay here and see to the boys’ housekeepin’ over the winter. Seems a lot more useful than anythin’ we could be doin’ back East.”

  “And more excitin’, what with watchin’ their new mill go up!” Nazareth remarked cheerfully. “They had quite a gut business, sellin’ their specialty flours and grains back home.”

  “Jah, and the new teacher seems to be handlin’ things at the school, so they won’t be needin’ us to step in anytime soon,” Jerusalem explained. “And we’ve enjoyed seein’ new scenery and meetin’ new folks, too. Didn’t realize how stale we were gettin’ until we got out of our own backyard.”

  Rhoda’s fingers flew over turquoise double-crochet stitches as she listened . . . speculating about Jerusalem Hooley’s reasons for staying in Willow Ridge. Who would’ve thought maidels their age would seek out adventure rather than stay close to hearth and home, especially in the winter? Or maybe there was more to Jerusalem’s plan than she was letting on. Hiram had taken a shine to her from the first time the schoolteacher had corrected him, when they’d met before the wedding feast. Nobody here in Willow Ridge—especially the women—had dared to set the bishop straight about how to raise his unruly children. And who would have dreamed of confronting him about the car he’d hidden away in his stable?

  “That’s an advantage to bein’ unattached, for sure and for certain,” Mamma agreed. Her square now had its first three rows; she clipped her yarn and wove in the end before choosing a deep maroon yarn to work with next. “How many rows are we makin’ our squares, girls?”

  “How about seven rows of color finished off with a row of black?” Nellie suggested. “I’ve already got five done, so if I work two more in the same red I started with, that’ll finish off to a gut size.”

  When Nellie held up the red-and-purple square she’d worked, they all agreed on that number and compared how their stitch sizes were matching up, so the individual blocks of the afghan would measure the same.

  Rhoda finished off her row of turquoise and rummaged in her bag of yarn to choose the next color. “If this is to be for one of the Hooleys, we maybe shouldn’t use the pinks and the baby yarns left from makin’ booties, ain’t so? Don’t want it to look girly, or they won’t like it.”

  “And who do ya think we should give this one to?” Annie Mae asked. She held up her square of orange and navy blue. “Or maybe, since this is goin’ so fast, we should make one for each of them. It would be a gut excuse for gettin’ together each week, ain’t so?”

  “And Dat couldn’t argue with the way we’re workin’ with other folks’ welfare in mind,” Nellie added with a laugh. “He preaches that at home night and day, after all.”

  They all laughed, reaching for more yarn or considering how many rows of each color would make their square the prettiest.

  Rhoda sat back on the couch. Her fingers had found their rhythm again, so she hardly had to look at what she was doing as she worked her hook around the yarn. She had missed sitting with Rachel and Mamma in the evenings, embroidering kitchen towels and pillowcases, or crocheting this way. They had simply been too busy, what with running the Sweet Seasons all day and then doing the household chores in the evenings. Wasn’t it interesting that three new bachelors coming to Willow Ridge had inspired this frolic?

  “Annie Mae, I’m sure glad you had this idea,” Rhoda said quietly. “It’s been way too long since we sat chattin’, lettin’ our fingers fly while we relaxed.”

  “You can say that again!” Nellie remarked. “How about if we meet at our house next time, so Dat won’t get peeved about us leavin’ him with the little ones?”

  “Jah, we could do that.” Rachel finished the black border of her square and plucked at its corners to make the edges straight. “We could keep our finished squares all together and bring them along each time, so when we have enough, somebody can whipstitch them together while the rest of us start on the next afghan. That way, if we can’t all show up every time, the rest can keep workin’.”

  “I think we’ve just started a crochet club!” Nazareth chirped. “And what a gut way to get to know our new friends better! I’m feelin’ right at home. Glad you girls wanted us older ones to join ya.”

  Mamma was nodding, pressing her finished square against the arm of her chair to make it lie flat. She had a secretive grin on her face as she chose a ball of grass-green yarn to work with next. “We still haven’t decided who gets this first afghan,” she said.

  “We could make it a secret contest!” Annie Mae said with a laugh. “Whichever of the Hooley brothers asks one of us for a date first wins the first afghan!”

  “Jah, that’ll work! There’ll be a singin’ Sunday night—the first one since Ira and Luke came to Willow Ridge. Maybe by then they’ll figure out who they’ve taken a shine to.” Rhoda eyed her mother, who seemed to be off in her own little dreamworld. No doubt who Mamma was thinking about, either. “Of course, at their ages, they might not want to join in with girls and fellas who’re mostly still in their rumspringa.”

  �
�Well then,” Rachel remarked as she, too, glanced at their mother, “that means they’re old enough to meet up with girls on other nights besides Sunday, ain’t so?”

  “Puh! Don’t you girls go thinkin’ you’ve got a corner on the market, far as gettin’ fellas to court ya,” Jerusalem ventured with a chuckle. “Some of us in this room have been agin’ like fine cheese, waitin’ for a man mature enough to realize we’re the best gift God will ever send him!”

  “You tell them, Sister!” Nazareth crowed.

  Mamma laughed like she hadn’t in a long time. “Hear, hear! Willow Ridge has a few unattached men who can probably still be trained up the way we’d want them to go! Feed them enough pie and they’ll follow ya anywhere.”

  Again their laughter filled the front room as their fingers, hands, and wrists didn’t miss a stitch. Then Rachel, sitting closest to the kitchen, cocked her head. “Is that somebody at the door? I’ll go see.”

  Rhoda turned to lift the curtain behind the sofa. “Hmm, dark enough that I can’t tell for sure,” she said as she peered out. “I don’t see a carriage.”

  “Sure hope it’s not Dat, come to fetch us home because the twins wouldn’t go to bed,” Annie Mae said. “I’m havin’ such a fine time I could sit here quite a spell longer.”

  Rhoda smiled. Wasn’t that something to hear, from the girl who supposedly sneaked out with the likes of Yonnie Stoltzfuz?

  Jerusalem shifted in her chair, chuckling. “Josh and Joey gave me their word they’d go straight to bed—and would help settle the younger ones if they fussed about turnin’ in, too. We’ll see if the boys get to order those new collars for the goats, with name tags, or if I have to work on them a bit more.”

  “Jah, they weren’t keen on writin’ their alphabets twenty times today after I caught them shootin’ marbles instead of puttin’ away their laundry.” Nazareth leaned down to pluck a ball of silver-gray yarn from the bag. “They’re not bad boys. They just need to be kept busy.”

  “And speakin’ of busy,” a familiar voice said from the kitchen doorway, “it looks like quite a sewin’ circle we’ve got goin’ here.”

  “Well, Bennie! How are ya, dear?” Nazareth asked.

  “Jah, Bennie, ya got here just after we stopped gossipin’ about ya!” Jerusalem chortled as though she knew exactly what would happen next. “You and Micah and the boys get that mill business all discussed, did ya?”

  Ben entered the front room ahead of Rachel, and Rhoda nipped her lip to keep from smiling; Mamma was grinning like a little girl on Christmas morning as she quickly finished the row she was crocheting.

  “Time to set aside the mill business,” he remarked as he walked up behind Mamma’s chair. “It’s a perty night for a ride. I was hopin’ somebody special might join me.”

  “Jah, I can do that, Ben.” Mamma slipped the end of her crochet hook into her ball of yarn, grinning. “We have our first winner, ain’t so? Don’t wait up, girls. I’m plenty old enough to let myself in.”

  Chapter 23

  Was there anything more exciting than being picked up by a beau on a moonlit autumn night? The moon, full and round and golden, ruled over a cloudless night sky and beamed down on them as Ben steered Pharaoh over the county highway, away from Willow Ridge. Miriam scooted closer to him, feeling a rush of goose bumps as he put his arm around her.

  “And what was goin’ on at that hen party, that ya said ya had a winner?” Ben asked playfully. “It looked like one and all were havin’ a gut time, fingers flyin’ almost as fast as the gossip.”

  “We were sayin’ it had been too long since we had our hooks out. Makes us sound like a dangerous crowd, ain’t so?” Miriam grinned, in too fine a mood to tell everything she knew. “Micah thought better of stayin’ around, knowin’ he was outnumbered by such ruthless women. And that little bit about a winner?” she said in a mysterious whisper. “Well, that’s a contest we crochet clubbers are keepin’ to ourselves. A secret yet to be revealed.”

  “Should’ve known you’d say that, considerin’ my aunts are mixed up in it. Thicker than thieves, those two.”

  “So where’d ya latch on to this fine courtin’ buggy, Mr. Hooley?” she shot back.

  “Changin’ the subject, are we? We’ll see who can keep a secret!” Ben kissed her temple, chuckling. “When Micah thanked me yet again for bringin’ my brothers’ mill business to his shop, I told him he could pay my commission by loanin’ me his fancy new wheels. He said his folks got them the carriage top for their wedding present, but I kinda like open-air rides on a night like this.”

  “Jah. The frost’ll be gettin’ heavy soon and before ya know it, the snowflakes’ll fly.”

  “Which means you’ll ride all snuggled up to me,” he replied with a chuckle. “It’s been my plan all along to get ya outta the house so’s we can talk. Or whatever else comes to mind.”

  When she lifted her face to smile at him, Ben kissed her gently on the lips. “I’ve been waitin’ for that,” she murmured. “It’s been a long, long time.”

  “I’d better do it again, then. To be sure I get it right. Just the way ya like it, Miriam.” Ben pulled off to the shoulder of the road and then wrapped the reins around the hook. As he lifted her face between his strong, gentle hands, Miriam felt like a girl in her teens again . . . yet this was like nothing she could ever recall with Jesse. Ben seemed as interested in pleasing her as he was in taking his own satisfaction, and wasn’t that a wonderful-gut way to romance a woman?

  When the lingering kiss ended, Miriam sighed. “I love ya, Ben.”

  “And why is that? This blew up between us awful quick, and I want us both to be sure we’re not rushin’ down the wrong road.” His face glowed in the moonlight as he gazed at her. “And since I’m not the first fella you’ve been with, I need to know I’m makin’ ya at least as happy as—”

  “Oh, don’t go comparin’ yourself to Jesse Lantz!” she said. “I wasn’t yet nineteen when I married him. As I look back, that wasn’t nearly old enough to know what I was gettin’ into, even though it turned out fine.”

  “Do folks in love ever really know what they’re gettin’ into?” he asked softly. “I’ve met a couple women since Polly and thought maybe they were the right ones, but a few months along the way I was relieved to figure out they weren’t—before we made it stick.”

  “And how is this time different?” Miriam reached for his hand, loving the way it wrapped around hers, so large and strong, without squeezing too hard. Jesse, too, had been a farrier with hands made sturdy from working with horses and hammering out horseshoes on his anvil. Sometimes he’d had no sense of his own strength when it came to touching her.

  “Well,” Ben mused as he clapped the reins on Pharaoh’s back, “for one thing, you’ve already got a place, and now your bakery business . . . so I guess I’m sayin’ you’re not lookin’ to me to make ya a whole new life. Some women have no idea how they’ll get by unless a man comes along to provide them a home and an income. Nothin’ wrong with that. It’s the way most Amish families are. But—”

  “It takes the pressure off ya.”

  “Jah, there’s that. It also means you’re not hangin’ all your hopes on me, sayin’ ya love me outta desperation,” he said after a moment’s thought. “If you’d told me no, ya still have your café and your three girls—and I’m glad they seem to think I’m the sort of fella you should be spendin’ your time with.”

  Miriam smiled. “There were months, after Jesse passed, that I did feel downright desperate,” she admitted quietly. “But I’ve been blessed with opportunities a lot of gals don’t get—not to mention three of the best daughters God could ever give a woman. Which brings up somethin’ else we need to talk about, Ben. Because the last thing I ever want to do is disappoint ya or . . . mislead ya.”

  His eyebrows rose expressively. “If you’re thinkin’ you’re too old for me—”

  “I can’t have any kids for ya, Ben.” Miriam closed her eyes, hoping this wouldn’t spoil
their beautiful evening. “That day Rebecca washed away down the river, I was carryin’ my fourth baby. Must’ve been the strain of hurryin’ up the muddy bank with all three of those little girls, scared out of my mind—and then bein’ torn in so many directions when Rebecca broke away to chase a bunny she saw ridin’ on a log, down the current—”

  “Oh, Miriam. That had to be the worst nightmare a mother could ever know.” He shuddered, hugging her more tightly. “I’m sorry ya had to go through that—but after all those years went by, ya met up with your lost daughter again. That’s a miracle, plain and simple.”

  What a blessing his words were; what a balm to her soul. And it amazed her how easily she was discussing such an emotional—and intimately personal—subject with this man she’d known for only a few weeks. “I miscarried that day. And then I couldn’t seem to have any more children,” she continued in the steadiest voice she could manage. “It . . . it came between Jesse and me. Partly because he was grievin’ for Rebecca—even though he couldn’t put that into words, exactly.”

  Miriam sighed, wondering if she should share the biggest heartbreak of her marriage . . . or leave it in the past, buried with her husband. “And it was partly because Jesse felt I should’ve had better control of my girls,” she murmured, “and that I shouldn’t have come lookin’ for him, to warn him that the river might flood while he was fishin’.”

  Ben considered this, studying her face as though he couldn’t get enough of looking at her. “That’s a mighty heavy load to lay on your shoulders, Miriam,” he whispered. “And I hope the good Lord above strikes me down if I ever expect ya to bear such a burden. Nobody deserves that sort of guilt.”

  Her heart throbbed painfully. Yet oh, how wonderful-gut it felt to hear a man recognize an inkling of what she’d gone through. She squeezed his hand harder. “I . . . I just don’t wanna tie ya down, because most fellas marry to start a family—”

  “Ya have a family, Miriam. I have my family, too.” He ran a finger along her jaw to make her smile. “We’ve got way too many blessin’s to count, between us, to feel like our life would be lackin’ if children didn’t come along. Not that I don’t intend to try—and try and try,” he teased softly.