A sad silence settled over the room as folks considered what Bishop Tom and Preacher Ben had confessed. Once again Bishop Vernon gauged the reactions of folks in the crowd, giving them time to process the unusual circumstances that had compelled two of their trusted church leaders to go to their knees.
“Does anyone have questions for Tom or Ben?” Vernon asked. “I’ve heard folks confess to having their hand in their boss’s till—and I’ve asked a few members to put away electronic devices we Amish don’t condone—but in all my years as a preacher and a bishop, I’ve never run across such a complicated situation.”
Atlee Glick stood up. “So you’re telling us that after Cornelius quit going to the casino in Kansas City, he began gambling on a computer?” he asked with a puzzled shrug. “How does that work? I’ve seen Mennonite and English fellows ordering and paying for supplies on computers, but how do you lose money with one? And how was Cornelius’s computer getting money from our vault?”
“That’s a gut question,” Preacher Ben replied. “I asked my cousin Marcus to be here today because he understands this sort of thing. Will it be all right if he explains it? He’s not yet a member of the church, but he’s asked Tom and me about taking his instruction so he can join.”
Marcus’s heartbeat sped up as several folks nodded, looking at him. He hadn’t anticipated Ben’s public remark about his asking to join the church just yet . . . but maybe the congregation would have more trust in him now that they knew he didn’t intend to remain an outsider. He reached under the pew bench for the laptop Ben had confiscated from the Riehls’ basement.
“Marcus, can you show these folks what you showed us?” Bishop Tom gestured for him to come to the center of the room.
“Meanwhile, you men have made your confessions,” Bishop Vernon put in. “You may stand.”
With a prayer for confidence, Marcus strode to where Tom and Ben stood before the congregation. He felt uncomfortable being watched so closely by folks who’d only met him a month ago, yet he was pleased to put his computer knowledge to use for them. The encouragement and admiration in Rosalyn’s eyes made him forget to be nervous, however. Knowing she supported him made him feel ten feet tall.
“Here’s the laptop Cornelius was using in his workshop,” Marcus said as he held it up. “I wouldn’t have figured out what was going on if I hadn’t seen him in the Morning Star bank, taking bundled money from his briefcase to make a deposit.”
A lot of folks appeared puzzled, so Marcus explained further. “When there’s a large amount of money—like, in a bank—it’s easiest to count when it’s been wrapped in paper bands—”
“In our case, we had bundles of hundred-dollar bills, some totaling one thousand, some ten thousand dollars, in the church’s vault,” Bishop Tom put in.
Marcus nodded. “Cornelius had a setup similar to the businesses Atlee described. He had opened a bank account in Morning Star that he could access with his computer—but instead of paying bills, he gambled at online casinos. The money he lost came from that bank account he’d opened with church money.”
“I’m guessing he went through our funds a lot faster after he switched to gambling online, because he didn’t actually handle the money anymore,” Ben suggested.
As folks caught on to what Ben was saying, they began to murmur among themselves.
“I suspect you’re right about that,” Marcus said. “When I was in Nora’s store to use her Wi-Fi one day, we noticed a network called Reel Money—not spelled like Cornelius’s last name. Later we found out he had this gadget that creates a hot spot to let him get onto the Internet.” He held up the metal attachment and then showed them how it connected to the laptop.
Gabe Glick speared his fingers through his white hair. “This computer stuff doesn’t make a lick of sense to me, Marcus.”
“It’s complicated,” Marcus agreed. “I have no idea how Cornelius got his computer or learned how to use it, but he knew that none of you folks would catch him at it because you’re not on the Internet.”
There was silence while folks thought about what he’d said.
Lydia Zook raised her hand. “So you’re saying that Bishop Tom and Preacher Ben—and the rest of us—would’ve had no way of knowing Cornelius gambled away our money if you hadn’t seen him at the bank?”
“Well, we’d caught him gambling a few months ago—when Nora and Drew tipped us off about his casino visits,” Ben reminded her. “Tom and I checked the vault then to see how much of our money was missing.”
“But Marcus’s seeing Cornelius in the bank, and seeing that he was online, gave us the connection we needed to know he’d started gambling on a computer,” Bishop Tom explained. “Without Marcus’s help, we’d have been totally blindsided about how our money was disappearing so quickly. I’m only sorry we didn’t figure this out sooner.”
Marcus nodded. It occurred to him that God might’ve led him into the bank that particular day, but he didn’t want to say that out loud.
“We were at the house when Ben and Tom came for money to pay the hospital bill for Miriam’s kin,” Drew witnessed as he stood up. “When they came up from the clock shop with the laptop and only a few bundles of money, we were appalled at how much Cornelius had gambled away—but no one was more horrified than Tom and Ben.”
Gabe let out a low whistle. “Back in the day, we had hundreds of thousands of dollars in our fund,” he murmured. “Sure, we spent some large lumps of it when we paid off medical bills—and when we rebuilt the Grill N Skillet after it burned down. But the fund got replenished each spring and fall when we took up our offering.”
“Folks have been faithful about donating to the church’s fund,” Bishop Tom attested. “That’s why I feel so horrible about not catching Cornelius faster—”
“Or not exposing his losses when we first heard about them,” Ben added ruefully. “Unfortunately, we were wrong to take him at his word.”
“Puh!” Dan Kanagy said, crossing his arms in disgust. “Seems to me we were wrong to accept him as our new deacon in the first place, back when his cousin, Deacon Reuben, traded houses with him. Cornelius has been a snake in the grass all along.”
“Jah, it occurred to me that maybe Cornelius’s being a deacon—being able to fit right into Reuben’s place—was a little too convenient,” Bishop Tom admitted. “But I thought it was one of those times when God had provided for our need before we even knew to ask for His help.”
“Divine providence,” Bishop Vernon murmured. “Who among us hasn’t been saved by the hand of God catching us before we fell?”
A hushed silence filled the room. Some folks bowed their heads even as they nodded at what Bishop Vernon had said. Once again Marcus wished he could kiss the tormented expression from Rosalyn’s face, knowing that some of the comments about her father had stung her deeply.
“Are we ready to vote on Bishop Tom’s penance, and then on Ben’s?” Bishop Vernon asked. “I’ll tell you now that after these men confessed to me, I decided they needed no further discipline—but they both insisted on coming before you, willing to be relieved of their leadership positions if you’ve lost your faith in them.”
Preacher Henry cleared his throat nervously. “If we vote them out, does that mean I’m the only man eligible to become the district’s new bishop?”
Bishop Vernon smiled kindly at him. “If that comes to pass, Henry, you’ll have our prayers and our full support—as well as all the help I can offer you,” he replied. “God will strengthen you, just as He does every bishop—all of whom have served despite their feelings of inadequacy . . . or their reluctance.”
The folks around Marcus considered the consequences if Preacher Henry became their bishop—but not for long. Once again Dan rose to speak.
“Can we simply give a simple aye or nay to reaffirm our faith in Bishop Tom and Preacher Ben?” he asked earnestly. “It’s clear to me that they acted in good faith, and that Cornelius is solely to blame for the financial mess we’re i
n.”
“Does anyone object to this procedure?” Bishop Vernon asked. “It’s a little out of the norm following a confession, but I have no objection to a faster vote.”
“Let’s do it,” Naomi Brenneman replied. “Tom and Ben took on the leadership of our district in the wake of the scandal with our previous bishop, and they’ll get us through this crisis, too.”
Marcus took his seat on the back pew bench, pleased that he’d helped these folks see their situation more clearly. After a unanimous aye resounded in the Hooleys’ front room, Bishop Tom and Preacher Ben smiled gratefully at the folks who’d shown them such enthusiastic support. Preacher Henry appeared extremely relieved.
“Denki so much for your faith in us,” Bishop Tom said humbly. “Although our monetary lot seems grim right now, we still have our God, we have our families and friends, our homes and our work, and a multitude of other daily blessings,” he pointed out. “Ben, Henry, and I are open to any ideas for replenishing our aid fund—and to names of nominees, so we can choose our new deacon after church on December thirty-first.”
“Meanwhile, we’re putting on our Christmas Eve live Nativity this coming Sunday evening,” Preacher Ben reminded everyone. “In this holy season of celebrating our Lord’s birth, let’s focus on God’s greatest gift to us—His son, our Savior—believing that the other priorities of our lives will fall into place if we put Him first.”
Bishop Tom nodded his agreement. His face had lost its haggard look, and he clasped Bishop Vernon’s arm. “We owe special thanks to my dear friend Vernon for assisting us when we needed his wise counsel.”
As everyone applauded, Vernon slung his arms around Tom and Ben’s shoulders. “It’s a special joy to be associated with you folks in Willow Ridge,” he said. “I’m betting folks in Cedar Creek would be happy to contribute items to an auction, or any other sort of fundraiser you might have—”
“An auction!” Miriam exclaimed. “I can’t remember the last time we held a big auction in Willow Ridge. I’ll organize the food stand—”
“I bet the Schrocks would donate a quilt or two!” Rhoda blurted out.
“We’ll contribute a roomful of furniture from our shop,” Micah Brenneman put in.
Asa laughed, pointing playfully at Micah. “We Detweilers can’t let you Brenneman brothers show us up!” he crowed. “Count on us for several large pieces of refurbished furniture.”
“I’ll donate the painting or wallpapering of a couple of rooms,” Adam Wagler called out. “Those services have sold really well at other auctions.”
“The Grill N Skillet will be happy to contribute gift certificates for catering,” Josiah added. “We’d also host the lunch during the auction, if you’d like us to.”
Marcus smiled as he approached the two bishops and Preacher Ben. He’d figured on keeping his surprise private and low-key, but the enthusiasm for an auction filled the room with such a sense of hopefulness that he couldn’t sit still. He handed Bishop Tom an envelope from the inside pocket of his coat.
“I’d like you to have this now,” he murmured beneath folks’ offerings of other items for an auction. “It might come in handy for covering the expenses involved with putting on whatever fund-raisers folks decide on.”
The bishop’s eyebrows rose in anticipation as he opened the envelope. When he pulled out three checks, his mouth dropped open. “My stars,” he murmured. He excitedly held up his hand to get everyone’s attention.
“Folks, here’s yet another example of how help can arrive in unexpected ways from places we don’t anticipate,” he called out. He smiled at Marcus. “How about if you be the bearer of glad tidings and tell folks about these gifts, son?”
When the room got quiet, Marcus again felt self-conscious with so many folks focusing on him—but this time he saw smiles of acceptance and anticipation. “When my boss—your new English neighbor, Wyatt McKenzie—heard from Nora Hooley about the loss of the district’s funds, he wanted you to know how much he appreciates the way you’ve welcomed him to the community.”
Bishop Tom held up a check. “Wyatt’s giving us ten thousand dollars,” he said in an awed voice. “Nora, too, sends a contribution from her Simple Gifts store, in the amount of six thousand dollars—and Rebecca’s written a check for a thousand dollars, with an offer to design any advertising we might need. When you see these generous neighbors, tell them what a blessing they’ve been to our Old Order community.”
“Luke and I will be giving you a contribution from the mill, as well,” Ira chimed in. “Our business has grown beyond our wildest dreams since we came to Missouri, and we have you folks to thank for that.”
Preacher Ben flashed his younger cousin a thumbs-up. “Who knew, back in the day, that you boys would grow up to actually amount to something?” he teased. “Your mill’s been a real boon to this area by providing local farmers with a sales outlet for their grains and eggs—steady work they wouldn’t have had otherwise.”
“Are we in agreement that an auction would be beneficial?” Dan asked the crowd. “If so, why not set a date and get on with the planning, while we’re all here?”
“I think that’s a wonderful-gut idea,” Miriam replied as she rose from the pew bench with little Bethlehem at her hip. “Let me fetch a calendar.”
Several folks began talking, caught up in the excitement of having an auction in Willow Ridge. The positive attitude in this little town impressed Marcus, because neighbors and local businesses—even those who were Mennonite and English—were sincerely devoted to promoting the welfare of the entire area.
Bishop Tom called the meeting to order again. “As we consider the idea of an auction, I see a couple of factors to consider,” he said. “It’s to our advantage that other Plain communities tend to host their auctions in the summertime, so we’ll have no competition. On the other hand, we’re having a cold, snowy winter and we’ll attract more of a crowd if we can hold the event indoors. But where could that be?”
“Let me make a call,” Marcus said as he pulled his cell phone from his pocket. “A lot of our horses have gone to their new owners, so—jah, Wyatt?” he said when his boss answered. “First off, folks here at the church meeting are very grateful for your check, and for Rebecca’s, too.”
“Happy to help,” Wyatt replied. “It sounds like you’ve moved beyond Cornelius’s gambling losses to thinking toward the future.”
“We have—so I have a big favor to ask.” When Marcus realized everyone in the room was listening to his conversation, he wished he’d stepped into the kitchen to make this call. Was he being presumptuous, assuming Wyatt would go along with his idea? He hated to disappoint these people after gaining their confidence a few minutes earlier.
“What’s your favor?” Wyatt asked. “Rebecca and I are jotting down ideas for our future home, so I’m in a mellow, open-minded mood.”
Marcus smiled. Any time Wyatt was with his fiancée, his happiness tended to spill over onto whoever was around him. “The folks here are contemplating an auction—but it’ll do better if we hold it indoors,” he added. “Would you be willing to let our church use one of the barns?”
“We’ll pay whatever sort of rent you’d want, Wyatt,” Bishop Tom put in loudly enough for him to hear.
“And we’ll leave the grounds clean and in gut shape after the crowd’s gone,” Preacher Ben added.
“An Amish auction,” Wyatt murmured. “Just a sec.”
Marcus could picture his boss putting his hand over the phone to discuss the idea with Rebecca. Meanwhile, Miriam had returned with the wall calendar from her kitchen.
“What about January sixth—the first Saturday after the New Year?” she suggested. “We could be ready by then if we get the word out to potential contributors right away. I see no benefit to waiting any longer—”
“Especially if Wyatt lets us use one of his barns,” Ben said with a nod. “But we don’t want to disrupt his business—or your training schedule, Marcus.”
Aft
er a few moments Wyatt spoke again. “You and I are going to a big sale after the first of the year, remember, so we’ll have more young Percherons then, as well as retired racehorses from my other farms. Any idea when they want to hold this auction?”
“Sounds like we’re shooting for Saturday, January sixth,” Marcus replied.
“We can make that work. If we dismantle the stalls—and put our current horses someplace else for the day of the sale—both of the barns would be available. No charge,” Wyatt said cordially. “Rebecca will print and distribute posters as well as put out the online advertising for this event, soon as you give her the details.”
“I’ll call you back in a few.” Marcus gripped his phone, amazed at how quickly his boss had come through. “Thanks a bunch, Wyatt—and thank Rebecca for me. This is huge. You’re really doing us a big favor.”
“Happy to help,” Wyatt said again. “And I’m even happier that you’ve asked me such a favor on behalf of your church friends, Marcus. You’ve come a long way since you arrived, and only good things can come of your association with the Amish. Talk to you later, son.”
Marcus pressed the button on his phone, grateful for the hopeful expressions on Ben and Tom’s faces—and thankful that this friendly bunch of people wanted him to be a part of their faith and their fundraising. “Wyatt says we can use both of his barns free of charge—if we find a place for our horses to stay on the day of the auction.”
“We’ve got room for your horses, Marcus,” Dan volunteered immediately.
“Jah, so do I,” Ben put in.
“And Rebecca will donate online promotion and put posters around the nearby towns for us, as well,” Marcus added.
“Doesn’t get any better than that,” Bishop Tom said. “All right, folks, we have the use of Wyatt’s two big barns and we have free advertising if we hold our auction fairly soon,” he announced. “Miriam’s suggesting Saturday, the sixth of January. Let’s take a vote. A no means you’d rather have more time to consider another sale date—or another project altogether.”
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