New Beginnings at Promise Lodge

by Charlotte Hubbard

  Phoebe sighed. “Jah, Obadiah Chupp has always run his district with an iron grip,” she recalled softly. “The lives we’re enjoying now would never have been possible if our parents hadn’t broken away and come here.”

  “And I couldn’t have gotten licensed in plumbing and electricity—couldn’t have gotten any education beyond our little one-room schoolhouse—if I hadn’t left Coldstream and my family,” Allen pointed out. “We’re all better off now. I’m a different man because I lived English for a while, but I’ve come back. For gut.”

  Phoebe focused on him, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “So what does that mean for me? For us?” she asked. “Jah, you have your land and I have mine, but that doesn’t paint a very cozy picture. You’ve barely spoken to me lately—you’ve made all these changes without telling me, after I was excited and open and honest about my feelings for you.”

  Allen sighed. “Guilty as charged,” he murmured. “I could say it’s a guy thing, because it was easier to duck out than to admit how you . . . scared me when you talked about getting land and building a house. But now the playing field’s been leveled and we’re equals. I have land, too.”

  Phoebe hung her head. “I was stupid to rush ahead and ask Mamm for land when—”

  “You’re anything but stupid, honey-girl,” Allen countered. He lifted her chin with his finger until she held his gaze. “So think about it from a different angle. Why might I have wanted land that adjoins yours? I could’ve had any unclaimed tract I wanted, after all.”

  When Phoebe blinked, a fat teardrop dribbled down each of her cheeks. Allen longed to kiss them from her face, but it wasn’t the right time. Not quite.

  “You tell me,” she murmured. “Seems I’ve made some wrong assumptions.”

  Allen leaned closer to her, inhaling her fresh scent and savoring the sight of her flawless face, mere inches from his. “I’m betting we can get it right, if you’ll give our feelings time to grow,” he murmured. “I’m crazy about you, Phoebe. And I would love to live in a house overlooking Rainbow Lake—with you. But let’s invest some time in courting first, to be sure. Okay?”

  Phoebe’s eyes resembled pale blue saucers as comprehension sank in. “You really will join the Old Order?” she asked softly. “In my daydreams, I tend to skip ahead of all the things that need to happen before we can share a house—”

  “You’re not the only one with dreams, Phoebe,” he put in solemnly. “And now that my business is up and running, and I’m settling on some land—”

  “And you have a house!” she pointed out. “I—I’m not sure I’d want to live in a tiny home forever, but it would be a gut place to start out.”

  “A tiny home brings a whole new meaning to the concept of togetherness,” Allen said with a laugh. “I couldn’t stay in one for the long haul, either—but I’m happy to be building them for other folks. I drew up plans for a couple more of them this past week, by the way. That’s another reason you haven’t seen much of me.”

  “You’ve sold two more? Wow, congratulations!”

  When Phoebe threw her arms around his neck, ecstatic about his success, Allen saw no reason to hold back any longer. He kissed her softly, elated and relieved that she poured herself into kissing him back. As the kiss continued, he was vaguely aware that anyone at Promise Lodge could see them out here on the dock, but it didn’t matter. He had nothing to hide—and no reason to run anymore.

  After several heart-pounding moments, Allen finally eased away from her. “Sure glad we got that straightened out,” he murmured.

  “I love you, Allen,” Phoebe whispered. “I want you to know that, even if we don’t—and I should’ve let you say that first, but—”

  Allen’s heart raced like a runaway horse. Those three little words upped the ante on a relationship, because they couldn’t be taken back. “But you’re braver than I am, and you wouldn’t say it if you didn’t mean it,” he pointed out softly. “Your courage and your honesty are two of the things I love about you, Phoebe. You know what you want, and you go after it. You get right to the point instead of dancing around it. That’s a rare and beautiful way to be.”

  Her eyes widened until he thought he might fall headfirst into her open soul. Allen took a deep breath, confident that from here on out they’d be on the same page, heading toward the same fulfilling future.

  “Denki for not saying I’ll have to give up my pie business after we marry,” Phoebe said. “Or is that another faulty assumption I’ve made?”

  Allen smiled. He knew plenty of Old Order men who would insist that their wives be stay-at-home women focused on their husbands and kids. “Well, while it’s just you and me living in our tiny home, it’ll take you maybe ten minutes to redd it up—and what’ll you do with yourself for the rest of the day?” he teased. “I know you love your baking business, just as I know that once we have our house overlooking the lake and some other little priorities start arriving, you’ll rethink how you spend your time. We both will.”

  Phoebe’s face took on a soft glow. “Jah, when I visited the Helmuth wee ones a while ago, I got a major case of baby envy,” she murmured.

  Allen had no trouble imagining what a loving, competent mamm Phoebe would be . . . not to mention how much he would enjoy creating babies with her. He took her hand, reveling in the soft strength of the fingers that slipped between his. As he sat in the shade, with a summer breeze blowing off the shimmering surface of Rainbow Lake, he knew the meaning of true contentment.

  “So it’s all gut?” Phoebe murmured. “We’re a courting couple, and we have a home place waiting for us when we’re ready for it—and meanwhile, we have businesses that’ll support us.” With a satisfied sigh, she let her head drop back against the lawn chair. “I think we need to celebrate with a piece of pie.”

  “You’ve got all the right ideas, Phoebe,” Allen said with a chuckle. “I’ll be right back with a couple of forks.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  As Frances gazed around the main room of her new apartment on Friday morning, she took a deep breath to steady her racing pulse. Her sofa from the house looked a little worn in the light streaming in through the large windows. Floyd’s recliner and her rocking chair seemed almost foreign to her in their new setting, but she reminded herself that she’d get used to these changes—just as she would gladly adjust to spending less time sweeping, dusting, and doing dishes.

  Christine and Rosetta smiled as they emerged from her new bedroom. “Your bed’s made and you’re all set!” Rosetta said, nodding at the arrangement of the front room. “Once you get your clothes hung in the closet and a few things on the walls, this place will feel like home.”

  “It looks a lot different than it did when I lived here—as well it should,” Christine added. “These rooms gave me a place to regroup after we moved away from the farms we’d known all our lives. I hope you’ll find the same peace and comfort here, Frances.”

  Peace and comfort. With all her heart, Frances yearned for those elusive elements of the life she’d shared with Floyd. For the moment, however, she put on a smile and tried to sound cheerful. “Denki for your help, ladies. I couldn’t have done this without you. And Rosetta, you have no idea how excited Gloria is about her new job—and her blue-sky bedroom with the fluffy clouds painted on the ceiling,” she added with a chuckle.

  “I’m not a bit surprised she chose the rooms Maria redecorated,” Rosetta remarked. “And after reading the first post she’s sending to The Budget, I think she’ll do very well as Promise Lodge’s scribe, too. Her description of Phoebe and Irene’s new pie business, and Allen’s tiny homes, and how we encourage Plain ladies to live in the lodge apartments will probably attract some new residents for us.”

  Frances was pleased to hear Rosetta’s positive comments, especially because she had a large, empty house she was hoping to sell someday soon. As the loud rumble of a truck engine and the crunch of gravel beneath tires came through the window with the morning breeze, she tried
not to think about how many beloved pieces of furniture, dishes, and other items she would never see again now that the auctioneer was leaving with them. For a few painful moments, visions of her mother’s walnut hutch, quilts her aunts had made, and the beautiful bone china cups and saucers she’d received as birthday presents flashed through her mind.

  But it’s the best thing for both of us to sell those things—and they’re only things, she reminded herself. It’s a fresh, unencumbered way to live within our means.

  When Gloria entered the apartment, Frances focused on her daughter’s glowing face.

  “I’ll feel like I’m living in heaven, waking up in the clouds each morning!” Gloria exclaimed. “Whenever you want to explain your bookkeeping system, Rosetta, I’m ready to take it on.”

  “That’s what I like to hear—a can-do attitude,” Rosetta said as she slipped her arm around Gloria’s shoulders. “Unless my nose is mistaken, Ruby and Beulah have been baking, so maybe we can all have a little treat to celebrate your new home before we get down to business.”

  “I miss the aroma of someone else’s cooking filling the air,” Christine said as they headed into the hallway. “The Kuhn sisters have a real talent for making the lodge feel like home.”

  Frances let the others walk ahead of her. She paused outside her apartment to study the lobby’s huge chandelier made of antlers, and to admire the graceful curves of the double staircase that descended to the main level—so different from the ordinary stairs in the houses where she’d previously lived. When the front door opened and Bishop Monroe entered ahead of Marlin, she had a sense of watching them from a high, hidden vantage point—until Marlin sensed her presence and gazed up at her.

  “Are you all right, Frances? Shall I steady you as you come down the stairs?” he asked kindly.

  Frances sighed. He really was a compassionate man, but she had to learn to rely on her own strength. “I’m fine, denki,” she replied as she carefully took hold of the bannister. “I can already tell that my therapy and exercises are improving my grip.”

  “Glad to hear it,” Monroe said in a voice that filled the high-ceilinged lobby. “We got your stuff all loaded up and Ted, the auctioneer, didn’t think he’d have any trouble selling it. His sale barn’s on the south side of Cloverdale, and he’s adding your consignment to the auction he’s got scheduled for a week from tomorrow.”

  Frances gripped the wooden railing. Come the first weekend in June, our furniture will belong to other families, she thought. There’s no changing your mind—no getting it back.

  It took all her effort to continue down the stairs without faltering—or crying. When she reached the lobby, Marlin’s carefully composed facial expression told her he didn’t agree with the way she’d disposed of her household belongings, but he was diplomatic enough not to say anything. “Something smells delicious,” she remarked. “Why don’t you fellows join us for some of the Kuhns’ goodies, after all the carrying and loading you’ve done this morning?”

  “You don’t have to ask me twice!” the bishop said with a laugh. “While we worked, we could smell the pies Phoebe and Irene are baking. So even if we’re not hungry, we’re ready to eat.”

  Frances couldn’t help smiling. The local men never turned down an opportunity to eat whatever Ruby and Beulah had whipped up. “I really appreciate you fellows’ going back to clear out my house after you carried my furniture up to my apartment,” she said. “I believe it was the right thing to do, but I—I just couldn’t watch.”

  “Understandable,” Marlin said as they all entered the dining room. “It would’ve torn my heart out if I’d gotten rid of our household stuff after I lost Essie. But we all handle our grief differently.”

  The Kuhn sisters were setting a stack of small plates on one of the tables, along with a big tray of cookies and bars, so Frances focused on them to keep from crying. It had been an emotional morning. She needed some time alone later, to fully deal with her feelings.

  “Welcome, Frances and Gloria!” Beulah crowed as she gestured for everyone to sit down. “We’re so glad to have you two joining us—and pleased to hear you’re going to manage the day-to-day business of the lodge now, Gloria. We’ll try to behave ourselves and not cause you any trouble.”

  Rosetta laughed as she took her seat. “Your first assignment, Gloria, will be keeping a lid on the wild parties we’ve been known to have here,” she declared as Ruby passed the cookie tray to Frances. “When there aren’t any men around to keep us in our places, we women lose all sense of decorum and control, you know.”

  “Really? I sure hope you’ll let me live here, too!”

  At the sound of an unfamiliar voice, everyone looked toward the dining room doorway. When Frances turned in her chair, she saw a tall, stalwart woman of perhaps forty gazing at them. She held an old suitcase in each hand, and her deep blue cape dress, sensible black shoes, and a kapp with an organza heart-shaped crown announced that she was a Plain woman who’d probably come from out East rather than from anywhere nearby.

  Rosetta approached their guest with her hand extended. “Welcome to Promise Lodge!” she said. “We do indeed welcome women who need a place to live. I’m Rosetta Wickey—and you’ve arrived just in time for cookies and coffee! Come and sit down with us!”

  A look of extreme relief transformed the newcomer’s face as she set down her luggage to grasp Rosetta’s hand. “I’m Annabelle Beachey—and I’m happy to report that I didn’t get run down by that big truck that was heading down your road,” she said with a short laugh. “Is somebody already moving out? This place hasn’t been around all that long, the way I understand it.”

  “We’ve just marked our first-year anniversary,” Christine put in as she pulled a chair out for Annabelle. “That truck held some furniture belonging to Frances and Gloria, who have shifted into an apartment because the man of their family has passed away. Their lovely home is for sale, if you’re interested.”

  “Ah. Sorry for your loss, ladies.” Annabelle perched on the edge of the chair, quickly focusing on each face around the table. “I’m surprised that you two fellows are tolerating the sort of talk I heard when I came in, about not keeping these women in their places. Have I died and gone to heaven?”

  Bishop Monroe’s baritone laughter filled the dining room, and Marlin was chuckling along with him. “We run a Plain community that’s more progressive than most,” he explained. “I’m Bishop Monroe Burkholder. Seated beside Frances Lehman is my cohort, Preacher Marlin Kurtz, and you’re sitting by my wife, Christine. We’re Old Order Amish, but we welcome residents of any Plain denomination—like Ruby and Beulah Kuhn, who are Mennonites,” he added as he gestured at the two ladies in floral-print dresses. “We’re delighted to meet you, Annabelle.”

  “What brings you to Promise Lodge?” Marlin asked. “Most of us came for a fresh start after we suffered some serious setback where we’d been living previously.”

  Annabelle’s smile faltered a little. “I know a thing or two about setbacks,” she said in a subdued voice. “My husband of more than twenty years up and decided to leave the Old Order—and me along with it. Phineas declared himself free of all the constraints that our faith and the institution of marriage had shackled him with. I have no idea where he made off to.”

  She sighed, gathering her courage. “After he left, his brother took over the farm,” she continued. “He offered to let me stay, but I didn’t want to be an abandoned wife—a pariah—dependent upon his hospitality, so I took my chances and came here. What did I have to lose? I don’t have any children, and everything I own is in those two suitcases.”

  Frances sat back, rather amazed at what this woman had just shared with them. Annabelle was between a big rock and a very hard place, because as long as her errant husband was alive, she couldn’t remarry. She was doomed to remain beholden to whoever would take her in—and she would be the topic of a lot of gossip.

  “We’re sorry to hear that, Annabelle,” Bishop Monroe said,
shaking his head as he chose a cranberry-date bar and a couple of peanut butter cookies from the tray. “We’ve got some apartments upstairs that might be just the ticket for starting over and considering your options.”

  “Gloria and I will take you upstairs when you’ve eaten your cookies,” Rosetta said as she took the seat next to Annabelle. “As it happens, I’ve just hired Gloria as my apartment manager, so you can help me give her some on-the-job training.”

  “These look delightful,” Annabelle murmured as she chose a sugar cookie bar and a chocolate-chip cookie. She gazed ruefully at Rosetta. “Trouble is, all I’ve got to pay rent with is the egg money I’d stashed in my button jar—and if I hadn’t switched it out of my coffee can, Phineas would’ve gotten to it before I knew he was leaving. Last thing I saw of him, he was rifling through the pantry looking in all the canisters for my cash.”

  “Don’t you worry about rent money,” Beulah insisted as she poured a mug of coffee and set it at Annabelle’s place. “We’ve started a fund to help cover rent and expenses for new gals who need a little help.”

  “Jah, and we can talk about ways to earn your rent, too,” Ruby put in with an encouraging smile. “You don’t impress me as a freeloader or as somebody who enjoys accepting charity, Annabelle.”

  “I don’t expect a free ride,” Annabelle confirmed. “I’m just glad I recalled reading about this place in The Budget, so I could tell my driver where to bring me. She’s done a lot of driving for our family, and when she heard my predicament, she brought me out here for next to nothing. God’s surely been watching out for me.”