Dat closed his eyes, swiping at tears. “You have no idea how my wife’s absence has affected me—how hollow I’ve felt ever since her—”
“How can you blame Mamm’s passing for your behavior?” Loretta demanded in a terse whisper. “I’m appalled that you’re connecting her to your—your gambling habit! Using her as an excuse to lose the church’s money.”
“I’m glad she’s not here to witness this disgrace to our family,” Edith declared in dismay. Her shoulders shook as she turned toward the twins to give them more cookies.
Rosalyn was amazed that her sisters had spoken out against their father so vehemently—and in front of Bishop Tom, too. Dat appeared shocked by their outbursts, but for once he didn’t launch into a tirade about them disrespecting him or Mamm’s memory.
Bishop Tom looked at them sadly. “You girls have nailed it. I’m sorry you’ve had to learn of your dat’s transgressions today, but there’s no dancing around them any longer.” With a sigh, he continued. “I’ll be calling a members’ meeting after our next church service for the purpose of your dat’s confession, and you should be prepared for his shunning. Of course, after I also confess to letting his behavior continue for so long, folks may well call for my shunning, too. Willow Ridge may soon be looking for a new bishop.”
Rosalyn swallowed hard. Everyone around her appeared stricken by Tom’s words. Even Dat seemed taken aback, as though he hadn’t considered all the consequences of his deceitful behavior.
Preacher Ben rose to look at the calendar on the kitchen wall. “We’ll be holding church at my house on December thirty-first,” he said glumly. “Not a very auspicious way to end this year or to begin the new one.”
“Puts a damper on Christmas, too,” Drew remarked. “It’s a shame we’ll have this issue hanging over our heads for nearly two weeks before folks hear how seriously Cornelius has betrayed the church district.”
Dat’s eyes flashed angrily at Drew, but the fact that he didn’t protest—or offer more excuses—told Rosalyn that he finally realized he couldn’t escape punishment for what he’d done. She shook her head, embarrassed and confused. How had her father, the deacon of the church, fallen so far?
“I don’t understand,” she whispered. “How could Dat gamble if he wasn’t leaving home? I—I don’t know enough about casinos or computers to fathom how he lost so much money. Money that wasn’t his to spend.”
“Ah, but some of it was his money,” Loretta pointed out somberly. “This explains those letters about bills that haven’t been paid, jah? And lately he’s told us not to buy groceries, too, because he can’t afford them.”
Across the table, Marcus cleared his throat. “Do you see that little silver gadget sticking out the side of the computer?” he asked gently, gesturing toward the laptop. “It’s a hot spot that creates Internet access, so your dat could use online gambling sites without leaving the house. The day I saw him deposit money at the bank in Morning Star, he was funding an account connected to an online casino. When he placed bets on this computer and lost, the online casino deducted money from that account.”
“Marcus and I noticed a new online network the day of my Christmas open house,” Nora added softly. “But because of the different spelling, we didn’t realize that Reel Money was connected to Cornelius. We had no idea he had a computer, you see.”
When Dat quickly looked away, Rosalyn knew the truth: her father was guilty of all the horrible misdeeds the bishop and Preacher Ben had accused him of. Her stomach knotted. For the past several months, her father had been deceiving his family and their neighbors . . . hiding behind lies while insinuating that she and her sisters didn’t respect Mamm’s memory.
Preacher Ben’s eyes widened. “Is that how it worked, Cornelius?” he asked in disbelief. “You stopped traveling to the casino, as you promised us you would—”
“But you were here at home gambling all the same,” Bishop Tom summarized. “Why didn’t you stop sooner? How on God’s gut earth did you figure on paying back what you lost?”
“And how will you explain this to our church members?” Ben put in without losing a beat. “Some of them have been sharing a portion of their earnings for more than sixty years—all of their adult lives—and now they’re going to learn that their money’s gone to a casino. I hope you’re ready to face their questions, Cornelius. Their outrage.”
Dat’s mouth moved but it took a while for any sound to come out. “I—I couldn’t stop,” he rasped. “I knew it was wrong, but I kept winning just enough to believe I could recoup my losses. I’m sorry. I hope folks will find it in their hearts to forgive me.”
“Sorry.” The bishop grasped the edge of the table so tightly that his knuckles turned white. “I doubt your friends will feel too forgiving when they learn what you’ve done, Cornelius. I’m removing you from the office of deacon immediately. We’ll take the vault and what little remains of the church’s money someplace else for safekeeping.”
“We were barely able to cover the hospital expenses for Miriam’s kin this morning—even though the doctors discounted their rate when Tom explained that Amish folks don’t carry insurance,” Ben said in a low voice.
“Jah, God surely softened their hearts toward us,” the bishop put in with a shake of his head. “I’m hoping He’ll help us through this situation and provide ways to rebuild our aid fund, too. We’ve got a long row to hoe, to regain any sort of financial stability.”
The weight of the church district’s situation stifled conversation for several moments. Rosalyn still had a hard time understanding how her dat could have gambled away hundreds of thousands of dollars—especially because they’d lived in Willow Ridge for less than a year.
Preacher Ben broke the uncomfortable silence. “How much is left in that bank account, Cornelius?” he demanded.
Dat looked away. “I don’t know. Haven’t checked the balance lately,” he mumbled.
Bishop Tom scowled as though he didn’t believe Dat’s answer. “I’ll be taking you to Morning Star first thing tomorrow to close out that account. Why do I suspect there’ll be very little money left to claim?”
As silence filled the kitchen again, Rosalyn hung her head. What a nightmare this was—so humiliating. And it wasn’t nearly over.
“I’m not a member of the church yet, but if I were,” Marcus said pensively, “I’d want to know about this crisis sooner rather than later. And I’d want to be working on plans to raise money, too, rather than letting nearly two weeks go by before the next church service.”
“Folks generally have deeper pockets at Christmastime,” Nora put in. “I can think of several of my customers who’d donate to the aid fund—even English folks—but once January sets in, they’ll be paying off their credit card bills from Christmas.”
Bishop Tom considered their ideas before rising to his feet. “I appreciate your help today—and your thoughts about rebuilding our fund—and I’ll pray on them,” he added wearily. “Right now, though, I’d like some help getting the vault out of the workshop downstairs.”
Preacher Ben stood up. “Won’t be nearly as heavy now that it’s empty,” he remarked sadly. “I’m thinking three of us fellows can get a gut hold on it and bring it up the stairs.”
“I’m in,” Drew declared as he started for the basement door.
“Me too,” Marcus said. He smiled solemnly at Rosalyn before he got up from the table.
“I’ll go fetch my horse and wagon,” Asa said, turning toward the coats hanging on the wall. “Might as well get this done.”
“I don’t know how large your vault is, but if it’ll fit in my van, I’m parked right outside,” Nora offered quickly.
Ben and Tom paused on their way to the basement door, considering her idea. “Denki, Nora, but I’m thinking it might be too tall to lay in your van,” Ben remarked.
“As I recall, we brought it in through the downstairs door years ago when Reuben became our deacon,” Bishop Tom mused aloud. “It’ll be a lot ea
sier to carry it outside that way than maneuvering it up the stairs—especially if you can back your wagon around the house and toward that door, Asa.”
Asa nodded as he pulled his black stocking cap firmly over his head. “My Percheron can handle that, but somebody might want to shovel a path so the guys carrying the vault won’t have to deal with snow up around their knees.”
“I’m on it.” Loretta crossed the kitchen to get her wraps and a shovel from the mudroom.
“I’m with you, sister,” Edith said. “Let me just get my coat on and—”
“You’ll be needing somebody to open and close the doors,” Nora volunteered as she, too, fetched her coat from a peg.
Edith sighed as though Dat’s situation were weighing heavily on her. “Rosalyn, would you mind looking after the kids while I grab the other shovel?”
It seemed her family and friends were leaving the scene like rats abandoning a sinking ship, but Rosalyn nodded. Ben and Tom grabbed their coats, and then the bishop picked up Dat’s laptop.
“I’m sorry we’ve put you and your sisters through this, Rosalyn,” he murmured. “I’ll keep you girls in my prayers as we decide how to move forward. And I’ll pick you up first thing tomorrow, Cornelius.”
Dat crossed his arms, scowling as though Bishop Tom had said something particularly disgusting. When Ben and Tom closed the basement door behind them, the tattoo of their boots echoed in the narrow stairwell. The kitchen took on a prickly, tight silence.
Rosalyn didn’t want to be the only adult left in the kitchen with Dat. She couldn’t look him in the eye—didn’t want to hear whatever he might say—so she smiled at Louisa and Leroy. “Let’s go out and play in the front room,” she suggested as she released the children from their high chairs. “Your wooden train and the cloth dolls are out there—”
“So you’re deserting me, too, Rosalyn?” Dat demanded.
Rosalyn blinked against sudden, hot tears. What could she say to the man whose secret thievery had wiped out the funds their neighbors had been steadily, trustingly donating over the years—not to mention the way Dat’s gambling had also put her life into a bind? If he was shunned for the customary six weeks, his family wasn’t supposed to eat with him or touch him or accept anything directly from his hand . . . and Rosalyn sensed her father was going to milk that situation for all it was worth. Rather than acting penitent, her dat would probably lay guilt about his separation on her and Loretta. He was already trying to make her feel guilty—feel sorry for him—with the question he had just asked her.
And she was tired of taking the blame.
“Seems to me it’s not a case of us deserting you, but rather of you driving us away,” Rosalyn replied tersely. “Ever since Mamm passed, you’ve been accusing us of not loving her, and now you’ve used her memory as your excuse to gamble. You’ve created a chasm in our family—a huge, gaping wound that won’t soon be healed.”
Dat stared at her as though gearing up for a lecture, but after living in fear of his punishment for twenty-eight years, Rosalyn suddenly felt as though she’d been sprung from an invisible prison.
“After all these years of telling us girls that as we made our beds so we’d have to lie in them, you’ll have to take your own medicine,” she said bluntly. “Don’t be surprised if you find yourself living here alone, cooking your own meals and doing your laundry after you’re shunned. Once they’ve heard what you’ve done, not a soul in Willow Ridge would blame Loretta, Drew, and me for moving out.”
“Hah!” Dat mocked her. “You have no place to go—and you wouldn’t have the gumption to go there if you did.”
Rosalyn’s eyes widened—and indeed, she felt as though her eyes had just been opened by Dat’s apparent assumption that she would never marry or move out on her own. Who did he think he was, implying that she was only good enough, only capable enough, to remain at home as his servant?
“Watch me,” she heard herself mutter. “Just you watch me go, Dat.”
Rosalyn quickly scooped a twin into each arm. Then she went upstairs to pack.
Chapter Twenty-One
Tuesday morning after breakfast, when Asa had left the house to work in the furniture shop, Rosalyn set down the dishes she was scraping. “Be honest with me, Edith,” she implored her youngest sister. “Are you sure it’s all right for me to stay in your guest room? I—I feel like I’ve barged in on you and Asa without asking you—”
“Nonsense,” Edith insisted. She lifted Leroy from his high chair. “Asa and I have told you time and again that you had a room in our home if you wanted one. After what we learned about Dat’s gambling habit yesterday, why wouldn’t you and Loretta and Drew move out? What he did was unthinkable.”
Rosalyn exhaled slowly, allowing Edith’s words to soothe her unsettled soul. The pale yellow walls and fresh white cabinets in her sister’s kitchen were such a cheerful improvement over the faded paint and curtains at home—a lift to her spirits even though she felt weary from a restless night. Rosalyn couldn’t help smiling when Louisa reached for her after Edith released her from her high chair. The world was a brighter place when she held the blond toddler against her hip, her little face mere inches away.
“Bah, bah, bah?” Louisa babbled.
“Bah, bah, black sheep, have you any wool?” Rosalyn joined in softly.
“Bah, bah, back seep!” the year-old girl mimicked with a giggle.
Rosalyn hugged Louisa close. Maybe her life would be different in many positive ways, now that she’d be around Edith’s kids all the time. She set the little girl on the floor. “Here, you can help clear the table,” she said as she handed the girl two spoons. “Carry these to your mamm, sweetie.”
As the little girl toddled toward the sink, Rosalyn refocused on the conversation. “I think Loretta and Drew were tickled to move into the apartment above the shop,” she speculated. “It must be like playing house when we were girls—such a small space. Won’t take her long to clean it, either.”
Edith turned on the faucet, waving at someone she saw through the window. “Here comes Loretta now. We can ask her.”
Moments later, Loretta burst through the mudroom door. “How is everyone this morning?” she asked as she stomped the snow from her boots. “It’s been an eventful several hours since we left Dat.”
“How so?” Edith asked. “Rosalyn and I were just talking about how much less time it’ll take you to redd up the apartment—almost like you’re playing house.”
“Well, there’s that,” Loretta agreed with a chuckle. “The fridge was empty, so Drew and I made a trip to Zook’s Market yesterday, right before they closed. Preacher Henry watched us like a hawk while we put our groceries in the cart, let me tell you.”
Rosalyn sighed as she plucked the plates from the hot rinse water. “What did he say? Did Lydia get that long-suffering expression on her face when you checked out?”
“She was pressing her lips into a tight line, jah—until Drew pulled out some cash,” Loretta added as she removed her wraps. “We paid for our stuff and put the rest of the money toward Dat’s bill. I couldn’t believe it. According to Lydia’s ledger sheet, he still owes them almost two hundred dollars.”
Rosalyn’s eyebrows shot up. “No wonder Dat was telling us to stay out of the store.”
“I’ll have Asa give them some money, too,” Edith said. “It’s not right that the grocer’s going unpaid.”
Loretta brightened as she entered the kitchen to help them. “On a happier note, Nora was coming into the market as we were leaving,” she said. “I told her we’d moved out—and asked if we could work in her store again, since Dat has no say about it anymore. She lit up like Christmas, Rosalyn! I’m going to resume working my usual Tuesday and Thursday hours, so I’ll go in as soon as she opens this morning—”
“Oh, I’d love to work for Nora again!” Rosalyn exclaimed. She felt immediately better, as though her days would once again have purpose. “If she still wants me on Wednesdays and Saturdays, well
—I’d even be glad to help on other days, what with Christmas being less than a week away.”
Loretta smiled as though she’d anticipated Rosalyn’s answer. “Well, Saturday’s Christmas Eve, so she won’t be open—and we have another, um, event to attend tomorrow. But I’m sure she’d be glad to have you on Thursday and Friday to handle her last-minute shoppers.”
Rosalyn got a funny feeling in her stomach. “What event?”
Loretta began drying the plates in the drainer. “Bishop Tom stopped by this morning,” she replied. “He and Ben have decided to hold a special church meeting tomorrow at Ben and Miriam’s, rather than waiting for our regular church Sunday. They want to get this matter before the members so they can admit their own bad decision, about not insisting that Dat confess earlier,” she added with a shake of her head. “Poor Tom’s afraid folks are going to hold him responsible for so much money getting gambled away, and shun him and Ben along with Dat. He’s asked Bishop Vernon from Cedar Creek to come, so the meeting will proceed properly during his confession—and afterward.”
“What a mess,” Edith whispered. “Dat’s been weaving a tangled web ever since we moved to Willow Ridge, by the sound of it.”
“I still don’t understand how he could lose so much money,” Rosalyn murmured. “Why would a casino—in a real building or on the computer—allow someone to keep playing if they weren’t winning?”
“Oh, the whole purpose of gambling—for a casino—is to make money on people’s belief that they’ll win a boatload of money, or at least win back what they’ve lost. That’s how Nora explained it, anyway,” Loretta replied. “The real question is why Dat would gamble with the church district’s money.”
“And why wouldn’t he stop when he was losing instead of winning?” Edith demanded sharply. “What really irks me is that he was blaming the whole thing on his grief—and that he pretended to be in his shop working all those extra hours. It takes a special kind of liar to get caught in a loss of that magnitude and then blithely say he hoped folks would forgive him. As though his kneeling confession and six weeks of being shunned would make everything right again.”
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