New Beginnings at Promise Lodge

by Charlotte Hubbard

  Through her tears, Frances saw Minerva, the midwife. When the young woman sat down beside her on the bed and gently took her in her arms, Frances cried even harder. “I—I’m sorry I’m such a—mess,” she wailed.

  “We’ll make it better,” Minerva said as she carefully kept her arms around Frances. “When I got here, Gloria was dashing out the back way like a ghost was chasing her. What was that about?”

  Frances took a deep breath, trying to control her sobs. “She went for her sister. Gloria’s a gut girl and she tries so hard—but she was never meant to be a nurse,” she added with a shaky laugh.

  “A lot of folks aren’t,” Minerva remarked. “We’ll figure out other ways Gloria can help you, but meanwhile shall we head down the hall to the bathroom?”

  Relief flooded Frances’s soul. Minerva was a midwife, so she was no stranger to helping women through all manner of messy, embarrassing situations. As Marlin’s daughter-in-law helped her to her feet, Frances felt a thin ray of hope shining through the gloom that had overwhelmed her.

  It took a lot longer than usual for such ordinary chores as using the toilet and getting her face washed and her teeth brushed, but by the time Frances emerged from the bathroom, she’d regained control over her emotions.

  “Your instructions from the emergency room say you’re to rest in bed for a day or two so you don’t overdo it,” Minerva said as she helped Frances back to the bedroom. “It’ll be easier if you stay in your nightgown today while we begin your ice therapy—so we won’t have to move your arms to get you into a dress,” she pointed out.

  Frances grimaced. “Jah, it was no picnic for poor Rosetta, getting me out of my dress and into this gown,” she recalled. “The way I was yelping, it’s no wonder Gloria wants no part of taking care of me.”

  “I found Rosetta’s note on the counter, along with the supply of ice packs she stashed in your freezer,” Minerva said, settling Frances into the armchair near the bed. “How about if I bring those upstairs with some of the breakfast casserole the Kuhns tucked into your oven—and some coffee. Caffeine is a pain reliever and a stimulant, and I think we could both use some.”

  As Frances waited for Minerva to return, she pondered what she’d just heard. Rosetta had left a note in the kitchen? And Ruby and Beulah had already brought over food? How had word of her injury gotten around the neighborhood in the few hours since she’d returned home?

  How much did Marlin tell his family about my fall? This is all so embarrassing. . . .

  When Minerva carried a breakfast tray and a tote bag filled with frozen ice blocks into her room, another question occurred to Frances. “Aren’t you supposed to be with the scholars at the lodge? Who’s teaching classes if you’re here tending to me?”

  The young brunette smiled as she held up a forkful of hash brown potatoes smothered with ham and cheese. “After Marlin told us what happened to you, I stopped by the bishop’s house on my way here,” she explained. “Laura was delighted to cover the lessons today, and Christine offered to start up a list of ladies who’ll bring food and come in to help you. Even if Gloria was gut at caretaking, your ice therapy and general care are a lot for any one person to take on.”

  Frances swallowed her food with a forlorn sigh. “I despise being such a burden.”

  “The way most of our friends see it,” Minerva put in gently, “it’s a chance to come over and visit with you, Frances. Everyone helped when Amos was laid up after his fall—and we’ll be there for Bernice and Barbara when they’ve given birth. So don’t worry,” she repeated. “We all take our turns at caring and being cared for.”

  By the time she’d eaten her breakfast and sipped a cup of coffee, Frances felt better. When Mary Kate entered the bedroom, her smile lifted Frances’s spirits, as well. She slipped behind the armchair to gently hug her mother.

  “Roman’s downstairs with little David—but I don’t guess you want a lot of men around while you’re in your nightie,” Mary Kate observed. She gave her mother a mystified smile. “Gloria tells me you slipped on the stairs while you were sneaking out with Preacher Marlin last night. You never cease to amaze me, Mamm!” she added with a laugh. “How can I help?”

  “You’re just in time to see how to unwrap your mamm’s arms so she can put them on ice to keep the swelling down,” Minerva replied as she loosened the end of the stretchy bandage on Frances’s arm. “Gloria should watch this procedure, too.”

  Mary Kate shook her head. “She’s mad as a hornet about Mamm seeing Marlin,” she said. “Maybe we should have Gloria help in other ways—so she won’t leave Mamm on ice too long or rewrap her arms so tight that she cuts off the circulation.”

  Minerva nodded. “How about if you bring a couple of old, thin bath towels, so your mamm’s skin won’t be directly against the ice packs?”

  When Mary Kate left on her errand, Frances lowered her voice. “See what I mean about Gloria? Are members of your family that upset about Marlin wanting to see me?”

  Minerva blessed Frances with a radiant smile. “I think it’s a fine idea for you two to have fun together, and Fannie and Lowell seem okay with it, too. Harley’s a pickle of a different color, though—angry at his dat for seeming to forget about his mamm,” she replied in a pensive tone. “You can’t please everybody, so you might as well please yourselves, ain’t so?”

  After her daughter returned, Frances sat in the armchair with carefully arranged ice packs in towels beneath her arms and on top of them. After ten minutes, Mary Kate gently rewrapped Frances’s arms as Minerva coached her. Frances still didn’t enjoy feeling so helpless, but at least she knew she’d be getting the proper care.

  Mary Kate glanced at the clock. “I’ll be back in time to give you your next ice treatment,” she said. “I’m going home to stick some things in a duffel so David and I can stay here with you.”

  “But you have things to do!” Frances protested. “There’s no need for you to—”

  “Jah, there is. You’re my mamm—and you certainly looked after me when I was carrying David and when I delivered him,” Mary Kate insisted. “So don’t give me any more arguments. Besides, David can be your resident ray of sunshine.”

  Mary Kate had only been gone a few minutes when Frances heard other footsteps and voices in the stairwell. Christine, Mattie, Irene, and Ruby peeked into the room, flashing their friendly smiles.

  “My word, you’re all wrapped up like a mummy!” Mattie said as she came to put her arm around Frances. “And I’m sure you don’t like it one little bit.”

  “We, um, heard you’ve fallen for Marlin,” Irene put in with a chuckle. “Gut for you!”

  “Looks like a great time to get our licks in while you can’t smack us!” Ruby teased. “But we bring you gut tidings of great joy from the lodge—”

  “And a list of the days and times your helpers are going to be here,” Christine put in as she waved a sheet of paper. “We left our pans of food downstairs with Gloria. She seemed so relieved to see us, I suspect she’ll be happy to answer the door and handle the housework and warm the food your friends bring over.”

  Frances shared a smile with Minerva. “We all have our purpose, and I think we just found one for Gloria,” she said with a chuckle. “Oh, but it’s gut to see your cheerful faces, ladies. I feel better already.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “We’ve got the last of today’s pies in the oven,” Irene remarked as she started putting away the baking supplies. “How do you think our first week in business has gone, Phoebe?”

  Phoebe smiled brightly. “Who knew that we’d do so incredibly well? We’ve doubled the number of pies we baked on Monday—and between the Skylark Café and the bulk store, we’ll deliver sixty pies this afternoon!”

  “Just my opinion, but I don’t want to take on any other outlets,” Irene said. “What with also baking Allen’s pies and the occasional pies our neighbors might ask for, I think we’ve hit our limit. I don’t want our quality to suffer because we’re in a hu
rry or we’re feeling tired by week’s end.”

  “I agree completely. There’s more to life than pie and work, after all.”

  Irene smiled to herself. Her joints and muscles were complaining about all the time she’d spent on her feet this week, but Phoebe was hinting that other activities were occupying her time—as well they should.

  “If that means you’re seeing Allen, I’m glad to hear it,” she said gently. “When he invited the Kuhns and me to look at his tiny home after supper last night, I was impressed with his workmanship. I couldn’t live in such a small space, but Allen puts every square inch to gut use.”

  “His tiny home is amazing,” Phoebe agreed. “He’s hearing from folks who want to come look at it and possibly order one, so he’ll be building a tiny home that’s a different design next week.”

  Irene nodded as she closed the big canisters that held their sugar, shortening, and other ingredients. Mattie, Christine, and the Kuhns were keeping their excitement under their kapps, but they were extremely pleased that Allen and Phoebe were dating—it meant two of their fine young people would most likely stay at Promise Lodge. When the door swung open, Irene couldn’t help but notice that Allen’s brown eyes immediately settled on Phoebe and took on a shine as hot as coffee.

  “It’s not even noon and you two are cleaning up for the day?” he teased. He held up a wooden object that resembled a plant stand—except it had a handle on the top and square shelves inside its four legs. “I’ve made sixteen of these to fit inside your van, Irene, and they’ll hold six pies apiece. Will that work?”

  Phoebe brushed flour from her apron as she went to look at the carrier Allen had brought. “That’s ninety-six pies,” she replied quickly. “We’ll be delivering sixty this afternoon, so we’ll only have to put four or five pies in each unit. That’ll make them easier for us to lift down from the van and carry—don’t you think, Irene?”

  Irene laughed. “You did that math so fast my head’s spinning, but jah, they’ll work beautifully. You made those carriers quickly, Allen, and we appreciate your help.”

  Allen nodded as his gaze returned to the young woman a few feet away from him. “I don’t have them painted yet, but I can do that this weekend. Is it all right if I use up some leftover paint my dat’s got?”

  “That’ll be perfect.” Phoebe set the carrier near the table where the pies were cooling. “So this hinged side opens, and you slide the pies onto the shelves, and then you fasten the side, jah? I like the raised edges on the shelves, too—so the pies won’t slide out while the van’s moving!”

  Irene watched, fascinated, as Phoebe put six pies on the shelves, fastened the hinged side, and picked up the carrier. “That’s the best thing since sliced bread!” she said. “Will you and I be able to lift a loaded carrier out of the van?”

  “Oh, jah—easy peasy. It’s not as heavy as it looks,” Phoebe replied as she raised it to shoulder level. “Think of how many trips it’ll save us, carrying five or six pies into the store instead of two. Allen, you’re a genius!”

  The young man’s cheeks flushed. “No, it’s you ladies who fit that description. Looks like Promise Lodge Pies is already an amazing success.” He studied the array of warm pies on the table. “Which one of these is mine?”

  “Any pie you like,” Irene replied quickly. “The bulk store and the café have specified the number of pies they want for the weekend, but not the fillings—and we baked five extra today.”

  “Lucky me,” Allen said as his hands closed around a lattice-topped pie with deep pink filling. “Today, rhubarb’s my favorite—but I can’t go wrong. Soon as I take this to my cabin, I’ll bring the rest of your carriers so you can load them whenever you’re ready.” With a wink, he whispered something that made Phoebe nod and nip her lip in anticipation.

  Irene returned to redding up the baking area so the young folks wouldn’t think she was eavesdropping. But then, she didn’t need to. Their shining eyes told her they’d be seeing each other again soon, and that Mattie and Christine would probably be planning a wedding before the end of summer.

  * * *

  Marlin closed his Ausbund as the final note of the last hymn lingered in Bishop Monroe’s front room, bringing them to the end of the church service. He was eager to eat and then slip out to visit Frances, who hadn’t attended church because she was to continue her frequent ice treatments for a few more days.

  After Monroe delivered the benediction, he made announcements, as usual. “We’re keeping Frances Lehman in our prayers as she recuperates from a nasty fall,” he reminded everyone as he gazed at both sides of the room. “Mary Kate and Gloria are assisting her, as are most of our ladies, and I’m sure she’d welcome other visitors later in the week. Whenever your life seems difficult, consider how limited Frances feels while both of her arms are wrapped and confined in slings.”

  Folks nodded sympathetically, murmuring to one another. On this warm spring day, everyone appeared ready to leave the pew benches and set up for the common meal, which would be held picnic-style in the bishop’s backyard.

  “Are there other announcements?” Monroe asked.

  Within a heartbeat, Gloria stood up. “Jah, I’ve got one, Bishop,” she said in a voice that thrummed with purpose. “If Phoebe and Allen haven’t confessed to you about wandering from the straight and narrow, we should hear their story right now. They were alone together in Allen’s tiny home—and they were kissing.”

  Marlin winced. He’d hoped that Gloria’s role in her mother’s accident would quell her tendency to point her finger at others, but it seemed she was even more determined to call them out.

  Beside him on the preachers’ bench, Preacher Amos chuckled. “That’s really gut news about my son,” he murmured, “but apparently Gloria’s still not taking the hint.”

  Bishop Monroe raised his hand to silence the chatter that filled the room. “Gloria, you probably feel you’re doing the right thing by pointing this out,” he said, “but proper procedure calls for notifying one of the preachers or me if you have a grievance against someone in the congregation. Then we can discuss the matter in private, rather than demanding an on-the-spot confession.”

  Gloria’s eyes widened as though she believed the bishop had missed her point. Before she could protest, however, Allen rose from his place near the back of the men’s side.

  “Phoebe and I did nothing out of line—nothing that courting couples haven’t done for centuries,” he insisted in an irritated tone. “And besides, with you peering through the window at us, we weren’t exactly alone, ain’t so?”

  As laughter filled the room, the color rose in Gloria’s face. Before she could speak again, however, Phoebe stood up. She appeared a bit embarrassed, but determined to set the record straight.

  “If I understand the timing correctly, after Allen told you to mind your own business, you rushed past me on your way home,” Phoebe recounted. “Is that when you threw off your shawl? And then your poor mother fell on it going down the stairs that evening?”

  “She wouldn’t have fallen if she and Preacher Marlin weren’t sneaking out like thieves in the night!” Gloria blurted.

  “Jah,” Lester chimed in vehemently, “and that whole episode wouldn’t have happened—and Frances would be just fine—if I’d been there with her. But no, you preachers wouldn’t let me take care of her, like I wanted to.”

  “Whoa! Things are getting out of hand.” Bishop Monroe held up both hands to stop anyone else from throwing a conversational rock. He focused on Gloria and then Lester. “I’d like to speak to you two when we break for dinner. Maybe I’m calling it wrong, but I think the green-eyed monster has gotten ahold of you—and we need to straighten that out.”

  “Green-eyed monster?” Gloria demanded. “All I said was—”

  “Jealousy,” Marlin put in as he, too, felt compelled to stand up. “As Allen pointed out, there’s nothing going on that courting couples haven’t engaged in forever—nothing improper. I’m sorry you and
Lester are unhappy about my feelings for your mamm, Gloria,” he added in a gentler tone, “but your accusations only make me more inclined to shower Frances with the happiness she deserves.”

  “Amen!” said one of the women near the front. “What a man.”

  When Bishop Monroe turned to give him a purposeful gaze, Marlin sat down. His heart was thundering like the hooves of a runaway horse, yet he felt exhilarated. He’d probably spoken too soon—all the more reason to visit Frances before she heard about his feelings secondhand. But he’d told the truth.

  Preacher Amos elbowed him playfully. “Stick to your guns,” he whispered. “Monroe and I can tell you how a second marriage gives a man a whole new lease on life.”

  “Congratulations, Marlin,” Preacher Eli said as he leaned in front of Amos. The other folks in the big room were standing up, and their chatter covered what he was saying. “You called it right, saying that Lester and Gloria are acting out of jealousy. They deserve our prayers and encouragement, jah—but sometimes a verbal kick in the pants is what’s really called for.”

  Marlin’s elation swelled as other men of the congregation flashed him a thumbs-up or clapped him on the back while they were carrying pew benches outside to the tables in the yard. As he watched the women taking out platters of sliced ham and bowls of salad, he missed seeing Frances among them.

  Beneath a tree several yards away from the tables, Monroe stood with Lester and Gloria. His hands rested on their shoulders and his expression was earnest as he spoke with them. Marlin sensed that neither of them felt sorry for the remarks they’d made—but at least Gloria had been gently, publicly put in her place, so she had nowhere else to take her objections to Allen and Phoebe’s courting. Lester, too, had exhausted his opportunities to protest the way Frances had rejected him, so maybe he would finally accept the situation for what it was.

  “I think you and Frances make a lovely couple.” A light voice drew Marlin out of his thoughts.

  “Jah, and you deserve some happiness, too,” an identical voice chimed in from his other side.