The Crossroad

by Beverly Lewis

  “What ’bout you, Rosemary?” Lavina was bold enough to ask. “Did you pray the prayer, too?”

  There was a slight pause, then the bishop’s wife admitted she had. “I’ve always followed my husband in whatever he chose to do, ya know, as married couples oughta.”

  “But you believed it for yourself, ain’t so?”

  “Oh, my … more than words can say!”

  So Lavina hung up the phone and set about cleaning house and bakin’ molasses bread, thanking the Lord for helpin’ her lead two dear souls to himself.

  And she knew, without a shadow of doubt, the angels were rejoicin’—twofold—as they wrote down the bishop’s and Rosemary’s names in the Lamb’s Book of Life!

  Fourteen

  A festive tree, decorated with slip-glazed gingerbread figures, stars, hearts, angels, tiny mangers, and white twinkling lights, literally brushed the ceiling with its tip-top sprig.

  Philip watched his niece busy herself with the gleeful task of distributing gifts to her parents, grandparents, and Philip himself. He had felt somewhat obliged to attend the pre-Christmas Eve gathering when his sister called with her “great idea to get the family together before you leave” and sounding nearly breathless with her pleading that he “must come.” There was the promise of prime rib and, naturally, the family gift exchange.

  And he had come, not so much reluctantly as chagrined that his impromptu travel plans had inspired Janice to throw a last-minute party.

  He sat in the corner, nearest the tree, in the lone hand-painted Hitchcock chair, one of the many prized antiques his sister had collected over the years. Gazing about him, he took in the bank of windows to his right, where, in the near distance, a spectacular night view of midtown New York’s skyscrapers shimmered against the black sky. Across the room, Janice had decorated a mock mantel, encasing a wide bookcase. On it was a splendid array of evergreen garlands, white candles of varied sizes, ivory roses, and pine cones lightly sprayed with fake snow. Scattered about the room, white poinsettias and fragrant paperwhite narcissus added to the simple, yet elegant, holiday decor. The coffee table, partially covered with a lace doily, was the showcase for dessert—a Bundt cake with icing drizzled down the sides and powdery doughnuts to boot. “Homemade,” Janice had insisted upon first carrying the silver tray into the room, followed by “oohs and aahs” from Philip’s mother, especially. Ken, too, seemed impressed, as did Kari, whose wide eyes told the truth.

  The word homemade caught Philip off guard, though he should have been prepared, but he wasn’t. His thoughts went twirling away to Lancaster County, although Kari’s interruption brought him back quickly.

  “For you, Uncle Phil.” She stood before him, holding a large rectangular present.

  “Thank you.” He accepted the gift, then began his usual dramatic shaking of the box, leaning his ear down to determine if there were sounds emerging. “Hmm, what could be inside?”

  “Not yet.” Kari gave him a playful poke.

  Philip’s mother, sitting prim and proper in her white woolen suit and aqua blue brooch, smiled demurely, eyes shining. Dad, looking fit in his perennial red sweater vest, grinned when Kari handed him the family Bible.

  “Time for the Christmas story, Grandpa,” she said, recommending Luke’s account.

  He began to thumb through the pages. “Luke’s my favorite, too.”

  Philip and Janice’s father was a small wiry man, yet a “softie,” as Kari liked to refer to her grandpa, Howard Bradley, a retired Long Island businessman. But when he read the Bible, the family paid close attention because he read with authority, as well as a semblance of tenderness.

  The evening went smoothly as family get-togethers go, and when the slightest fussing about “too much money being spent on your parents this year” commenced from none other than Philip’s mother, he rose and excused himself to get some more eggnog in the kitchen.

  Janice joined him in a flash. “She makes the same comment every year,” she whispered.

  Philip poured his eggnog. “It’s not important.”

  She nodded, shrugging. “So … when do you leave?”

  “In the morning, as soon as I can get out of town.”

  Janice stepped back to survey her brother, hands on hips. “You’re not yourself tonight, and I think you know what I’m talking about.”

  “Wouldn’t have a clue.” He made a serious attempt to mask his expression.

  She eyed him curiously. “I read your Amish feature last week … nice work.”

  “Thanks.”

  “C’mon, Phil, there’s more to that article than meets the eye. I know you.”

  “You’re dreaming.” He forced a droll grin and pushed past her, back to the living room and the merrymaking.

  “Never been s’ happy in all my life,” Lavina exclaimed the next morning, bright and early, when she stopped by to visit Rachel. “After I got home from the bishop’s yesterday, I hafta admit I felt like kickin’ up my heels and dancin’ a jig. ’Course, we don’t believe in such things, but I felt like it, all the same.”

  Rachel had to smile at her friend’s remark, ever so glad to hear the news of Bishop Seth’s glorious conversion. She sat in a chair near the bed, still wearing her bathrobe and slippers. “I believe I prayed so hard for you while you were at the bishop’s house that my head actually quit paining me,” she said. “It’s a miracle.”

  “That’s wonderful-gut news.”

  “Jah, and just in time to help Mam get ready for Christmas dinner tomorrow, for which I thank the Lord. Mam says Esther and Levi and the children are comin’ in from Ohio for a few days. It’ll be a fun time for all of us—Annie, too, ’cause all she’s talked ’bout here lately are her young cousins from Ohio, and when is she ever gonna get to see them again.”

  “They’ll stay at Leah’s?”

  “My aunt and uncle wouldn’t have it any other way,” Rachel replied, excited to see her cousin and family again.

  “So … sounds like Susanna’s having Christmas dinner here this year.”

  “Jah, but we’re all goin’ over to Aunt Leah’s and Uncle Amos’s tonight after supper for hot cocoa and cookies. We’ll sit ’round the kitchen, talking ’bout the olden days with all the relatives, prob’ly. One of our Christmas Eve rituals.” Rachel enjoyed hearing the old stories, one after another, at such gatherings. Things like hearing how Great-Aunt So-and-So had fun helping her mamma sort potatoes back when, or the first flood of the twentieth century and how they managed to bale water out of the cold cellar, or the time Uncle Samuel heard about “Amish dirt”—as a young boy—and how dumbfounded he was to learn that such dirt held more than six times the water an average no-till field did, due to crop rotation and manure application.

  ’Course, then again, discussing such farm-related things might not be the best topic for discussion at Christmas. But if she knew Levi and Esther, there’d be plenty talk of farming and reminiscing over their childhood days in Lancaster County.

  Remembering—one of the best things ’bout the Christmas season. And she had her own private memories to cherish, though they had nothin’ at all to do with Christmas or any other holiday, for that matter. No, her memories of Philip Bradley had not a single connection to the Amish life and heritage.

  “You did what?” Ben said, hurrying to close the bedroom door behind Susanna.

  “You heard me right.”

  He shook his head, coming ’round the side of his plump wife. “Well, what’s our Rachel gonna think of such a thing?”

  “Ach, she’ll be just fine with it.” Susanna’s eyes flashed with her connivings. “Besides, it’s high time she meets someone.”

  “Well, now, I don’t know ’bout that,” he insisted, going to the window and looking out. “When’s the smithy due over here, anyways?”

  “Straight up noon, Christmas Day.”

  “And you called him?” he said, turning to look at his wife, still skeptical ’bout what she’d gone and done. Without asking his
advice, of all things!

  “I didn’t call him.”

  “But you had a hand in invitin’ him?”

  Susanna pursed her lips, trying to smother a smile, it seemed. “John Lapp has received an invitation to dinner here.” That was all she was gonna say ’bout the stunt she’d pulled. He knew it was, ’cause she flounced off to their private bathroom and locked the door with a resounding thud.

  Knowin’ there wasn’t much he could do now, Ben left Susie to have her little snit if she wanted to. He headed on downstairs to sit and read The Budget by the fire. Soon it would be time to leave for Susanna’s sister’s place. He just hoped Leah’s daughter and son-in-law, back home from the Midwest, would mind their manners and watch what they said ’bout their religious beliefs and whatnot. Why, he’d seen enough strange spiritual goings-on since yesterday at the bishop’s house. And that thing Lavina did, quoting the “deliverance” Scripture over the bishop, or whatever it was she’d called it, well … he wished he’d never agreed to take her over there, causin’ such a ruckus she had. Should’ve asked her what the world she was thinkin’, annoying the poor ailin’ man thataway.

  Far as he was concerned, it was a gut idea to keep things solemn just a bit, seein’ as how the People might hafta be laying their bishop in his grave soon, sick as he was.

  Copper came bounding into the room just then, wagging his tail like nobody’s business. “Well, hullo there, pooch,” he said, bending down to pet him. “I ’spect you’re lookin’ for a nice Christmas treat, and I know of just the thing.”

  He rose with a grunt and marched out to the kitchen, where he knew Susanna kept tiny bone-shaped doggie biscuits. “There, now, that oughta make ya happy,” he said, offering Copper a whole handful, not caring what his wife might say ’bout so many.

  Philip unpacked his clothes and hung up the shirts and trousers quickly, hoping to discourage wrinkles. He didn’t mind touch-up ironing, but only if necessary, and there were more important things on his mind today. Once he was settled in his room at the inn, he planned to make a surprise afternoon visit to Adele Herr. She wouldn’t be expecting him until tomorrow evening, but a lady like Adele shouldn’t be alone on Christmas Eve without the love of family or close friends. He would see to it that she laughed and enjoyed herself both days. After that, he wasn’t sure of his game plan. He would trust the Lord to guide his every step. Whether or not his steps led him back to Bird-in-Hand remained to be seen.

  The walkway leading to Fairview Nursing Home was trimmed with white lights, and along the porch, boughs of evergreen and an occasional lantern dressed up the outside, creating a warm home-away-from-home atmosphere. An enormous holly wreath, decorated with white flowers, fake blueberries, and clusters of cinnamon sticks, provided the initial welcome as Philip pushed open the door.

  Inside the foyer area, garlands of evergreen, bedecked with red velvet bows, hung over deep casement windows. A large multiroomed birdhouse made a showcase for colorful glass Christmas balls and was perched on a lamp table near a splendid tree adorned with strands of golden beads and red, white, and gold ornaments.

  He heard laughter and muffled talking, and because the receptionist was nowhere in sight, he wandered down the hallway toward the sounds.

  Philip spotted Adele first. The dear lady was seated in a chaise longue, an afghan thrown over her legs. A harpist—a young girl not much more than twelve or so—had just begun “O Holy Night.” Standing in the back of the sunny room, Philip folded his arms, listening in rapt attention to the angelic rendition, already glad he’d made the decision to come for the holiday.

  When the carol was finished, he applauded with the rest of the patients, and, quite unexpectedly, Adele turned and glanced back at him, almost as if she’d sensed that he was there.

  Quickly, he made his way to her. “Merry Christmas, Adele.” He stooped down to greet her.

  Her smile warmed his heart. “Oh, it’s so good to see you again, Philip.”

  “You’re looking well,” he replied, accepting a chair from one of the nurses with a nod and a thank-you.

  “I’m getting better, and the doctors are amazed.” She folded her hands on her lap, grinning up at him.

  He was about to make a comment, but a young boy was standing before them, ready to recite a poem. Philip felt as if he were playing hooky from his upcoming assignments, scheduled conference calls, and the like, but sitting here next to his surrogate relative, he felt rejuvenated by the message of the young man’s poem and the musical performances that followed.

  “What a lovely program,” Adele said when it was over.

  He agreed. “And to think you have something just as wonderful to look forward to tomorrow evening.”

  Her eyes brightened. “All I need is right here,” she said, reaching for his hand and squeezing it.

  Nodding, he continued to sit with her, welcoming her company. For two hours they engaged in animated conversation, talking about whatever Adele wanted to discuss, until supper was brought to her on a tray and he said his good-byes.

  “I’ll come again tomorrow,” he told her, promising to bring “a surprise from the Big Apple.”

  “Well, what could that be?”

  “That’s my line,” he said, describing the shenanigans he always pulled for his niece’s sake.

  “Then you must’ve celebrated Christmas already with your family.”

  He admitted that he had. “But the most special part of my Christmas this year is being here with you.” Indeed, he’d wondered if this might not be the woman’s last celebration of Christ’s birth on earth, but as he gazed on her dear face, noting her bright eyes and rosy cheeks, he had a feeling that Adele might fool everyone and live a while longer. And he was elated at the prospect.

  Susanna and Benjamin greeted their relatives as they made their way up the snow-swept walk. “En frehlicher Grischtdaag!—a merry Christmas!”

  “S’naemlich zu dich!—The same to you!” Amos and Leah called out in unison, meeting them with warm hugs and smiles at the kitchen door.

  Amos took their wraps and disappeared into the front room with an armload of coats and scarves.

  Leah leaned on Susanna’s arm, chattering a mile a minute. “Come, have some sand tarts, sugar cookies … whatever you like.”

  Susanna made herself right at home, taste-testing her sister’s cherry pudding first thing after they said their hellos all ’round, ’specially greeting Esther and Levi and their youngsters.

  Leah and her daughter-in-law, Lyddie Stoltzfus, along with an elderly aunt—Auntie Ann—on Leah’s husband’s side, had put a nice spread on the kitchen table, even used all the table leaves to extend it gut and long. ’Course, they wouldn’t be sittin’ down, but still there was plenty of room for an array of pastries, cookies, and cups of hot cocoa with marshmallows peeking over the tops.

  Leah and Amos’s married sons and their wives and children had come, and, of course, Sadie Mae and Molly were on hand, whispering and grinning from ear to ear, along with ninety-year-old Auntie Ann. In the middle of the kitchen stood Esther, Levi, and their brood, like they were on display after bein’ gone all this time. Esther was just a-huggin’ and a-kissin’ Rachel and Annie, babbling to beat the band, standing right under a string stretched clear across the width of the kitchen. Little red and green paper bells hung from the string, and Susanna s’posed that Leah’s grandchildren had made the decoration or brought it home from school. One or the other.

  She decided it best to let them talk as much as they wanted. Get it out of their systems. ’Course, then again, she must be very wise and not let on that she’d listened to one of Esther’s tapes late last night. Wouldn’t let on one bit. Far as she was concerned, that business ’bout family patterns and sins of ancestors and whatnot was downright ridiculous—for the birds, really. Esther and Levi had gone and gotten themselves caught up in some mighty strange teachings. And she’d already planned to put her foot down if there was the least little bit of talk ’bout Esther a
nd Levi cartin’ Rachel and Annie off to Ohio!

  Still, while making over her sister’s wonderful-gut recipe, she couldn’t help but overhear a little of what Esther and Rachel were sayin’ to each other. Made her think back to that tape, and a little shiver came over her, recalling some of the Scripture verses. They were passages she’d honestly never heard of ever in her whole life. ’Course, if they were really and truly recorded in God’s Word, well, then, she s’posed she oughta be lookin’ them up and findin’ out for herself. And once Christmas dinner was behind her tomorrow, that’s just what she intended to do.

  When all was said and done, it was the applesauce nut cookies that won her vote, if there was to be one. And she told Leah so. “I daresay you’ve outdone yourself, Sister.”

  Leah grinned, showing her gums, and reached out and hugged Susanna. “Well, if you must say so, then I’ll hafta be sayin’ denki for it.”

  The People weren’t big on giving compliments, usually didn’t do it at all. Truth be told, Susanna felt mighty odd with all the attention being showered on Esther and Levi. My goodness, they were standin’ there in the middle of everything awful long, though Leah and Amos didn’t seem to mind a’tall. Prob’ly assumed the evening’s visit was for this very purpose, to get reacquainted with their Ohio relatives.

  At long last Susanna made a point of catchin’ Molly’s eye, and going across the kitchen, she stood with the seventeen-year-old girl, Leah’s youngest, not too far from where Esther and Rachel were still gabbing up a storm. She whispered that she appreciated the “help” Molly and a certain boy cousin had given while over in Paradise Township not so many days ago. “It was right kind of you.”