And I do need you, Rhoda. More than you know, his heart whispered.
He clenched his teeth to keep from saying that. It would be totally inappropriate to imply any personal interest in this open, ingenuous Amish girl because it would get her into trouble—and cause him more heartache than he could handle. Andy handed her the day’s pay, relieved that a van’s headlights flooded the doorway with light.
“Thanks for another great day,” he said in a more businesslike tone. “We’ll see you tomorrow.”
Chapter Nine
Miriam stepped outside Tuesday morning to discover an inch of fresh snow on the ground, and the dark sky was thick with huge flakes like down feathers that had burst from a pillow. She raised her face to catch some on her tongue, giggling as they tickled her cheeks. The hills around her place and the Brennemans’ lay blanketed in a whiteness that glowed in the moonlight and muffled the sound of a car passing cautiously along the county blacktop.
Well, Lord, it’s December first. If this snow isn’t a sign that it’s time to start some holiday bakin’, I’m not payin’ attention, ain’t so? Miram hurried toward the back entrance of the Sweet Seasons, and within minutes she had flipped on the kitchen lights and had the ovens preheating.
What a joy it was to revel in Christmas again! Last year—before she’d met Ben—the holidays had still held a tinge of sadness, even though she’d put on a happy face for the girls. This morning she had a new reason to rejoice: a month from today, she’d be getting married! Miriam stepped into the pantry, thinking the lunch crowd might be lighter on this wintry Tuesday—a perfect day for soup! It seemed yet another sign from above that just last week she had stocked up on dried split peas. A few minutes later she had a big stock pot of them on to boil.
A rapping on the kitchen door made her look up. “Ben! Get yourself in out of this weather,” she said as he stepped inside. His shoulders and broad-brimmed hat were coated with snow. “You’re out mighty early this mornin’.”
“I’d kiss ya,” he teased, “but my face is as cold as—”
“And ya think I don’t know how to fix that?” With a mixing bowl still in the crook of her elbow, Miriam slipped an arm around Ben’s neck for a fine, satisfying start to her morning. She’d been happy with Jesse, but it was a delight to be marrying a man who kissed her and held her like he never wanted to let her go.
“Watch out now,” he murmured, his hazel eyes alight. “You’ll have me tryin’ for something you won’t want your girls and Naomi to walk in on. A man can only resist temptation for so long, ya know. What’s smellin’ so gut already?”
Miriam kissed him again and slipped out of his embrace. “I’ve got split pea soup simmerin’ for the lunch buffet, and Irish brown bread in the oven to go with it. And we’ve got fun stuff for breakfast, too. Sausage-and-cheese biscuits, and the special banana muffins I make at Christmastime—which ought to be about ready.” When an oven timer dinged, Miriam pulled out two tins of fruit-studded muffins.
Ben looked ready to grab one and burn his fingers. “My word, what-all’s in those?” he asked, inhaling deeply. “I sure hope those aren’t for somebody’s special order.”
“Nope. You can be my tester, Ben. Want a couple eggs with them?”
He settled onto the tall stool at the back counter to watch her move around the kitchen. It was a different sensation, having a man who openly adored her and chatted with her while she baked, and Miriam suspected she would never tire of it. “Only if you’ll join me,” he replied. “Why do I suspect you’ve been hard at it since before three, without a break?”
“Because I love my work?” she asked. “And on account of how excited I am that Christmas—and our wedding’s—comin’ up?”
“It’s gut to see ya so happy, after the way things went last weekend when Rhoda started her new job and Hannah looked like a deer in the headlights.”
“Perty sure we won’t have that problem today.” Miriam glanced outside. The snowflakes looked bigger and thicker than they had an hour ago.
“I’m here to clear your walk and parkin’ lot so’s Preacher Gabe and your other folks won’t break any bones,” Ben said. “My Pharaoh’s a fine horse for pullin’ that vee-shaped plow in the smithy. Figured I’d clear Naomi’s lane so Ezra’s driver can pick him up to work at the hospital today, too. I’ll do that right off, after I eat.”
Miriam smiled at him as four eggs crackled in the cast-iron skillet. “Denki, Ben. What would I do without ya?”
Ben snatched one of the warm muffins as she removed them from the tins. “You’d probably cook a lot less without my brothers and me gobblin’ up your fabulous food. Oh my word, Miriam, I’m seein’ red cherries and chunks of orange . . . nuts and melty little chocolate chips,” he murmured as he studied his muffin. “This looks more like dessert than breakfast. Not that that’ll stop me!”
As he took his first big bite, Ben’s expression made Miriam’s heart sing. His long lashes fluttered down over his clean-shaven cheeks, and he smiled as though he was the happiest man on God’s good earth. She loved him so much she nearly burst at the seams.
Oh, but I wish I could bear this man’s children.
But there was no call for getting upset about what wasn’t going to happen. God had His reasons for every little thing, and hadn’t He already blessed her with more joy than she had ever imagined?
The back door whooshed open and Rhoda came inside, coated with snow. “Ach, there must be three inches out there already!” she exclaimed as she stamped her feet on the rug. “Rachel probably won’t get here until Micah gives her a ride down that long lane!”
“That would be her way of handlin’ this snow, jah.” Miriam smiled. Why wish for more children when the three daughters God had given her blessed her every day? And they would be giving her grandchildren to delight in, too!
“Soon as I finish here I’ll be plowin’,” Ben replied. “Gut morning to ya, Rhoda. The snow’s put roses in your cheeks and a sparkle in your eyes.”
Rhoda surveyed the baked goods on the counter and then snatched a biscuit rich with crumbled sausage and cheese. “If I had my way about it, I’d hitch up the sleigh and go ridin’ today. But I’m workin’ two jobs now—the responsible adult, ya know,” she added with a chuckle. “What can I do for ya, Mamma? You’ve been bakin’ up a storm already, even if we might not have many customers today.”
“It never goes to waste,” Miriam said as she scraped the last of her egg from her plate. “Want me to fry ya some bacon or—”
The bell on the wall jangled, which meant the phone was ringing in the shanty behind the café. Miriam wondered who might be calling at this early hour. Had the three Schrocks decided not to open their quilt shop today?
“I’ll grab that.” Rhoda dashed out the door without her coat.
“Here’s my chance for one more kiss,” Ben whispered as he rose from the stool. “Better get these lanes and your lot cleared out.”
“You’re a fine man for lookin’ after us this way, Ben.” Miriam savored the feel of his lips on hers. “Come inside every now and again to warm up. I’ll make some cocoa for ya.”
“I love ya ever so much, Miriam,” he murmured.
“Jah, and don’t I know it! You’re a lucky man,” she teased softly.
As he stepped outside, Rhoda came in on a gust of snowy air. “That was Andy Leitner, sayin’ their school’s been called off,” she reported. “He asked if I could be there so his mamm won’t have to keep track of the kids all day. Hope it’s all right that I went ahead and called Sheila.”
“Well, there’s something we Plain folks don’t worry about. Our Willow Ridge scholars’ll be walkin’—or their dats’ll hitch up the sleighs and drive them to the schoolhouse—like it was any other day.” Glancing outside again, Miriam spotted two bundled figures coming down the Brennemans’ lane. “For sure and for certain Hannah and Rachel can handle anybody we’ll have eatin’ here today, so don’t you worry about it, honey-bug. Get your things tog
ether, and tell Sheila to take her time on the roads, hear me?”
“Jah, Mamma, I’ll do that.” Rhoda bussed her forehead with a kiss. “Denki for understandin’. If my workin’ for the Leitners causes ya problems, just tell me straight-out, all right? It’s not my intention to leave ya shorthanded.”
“Go on with ya now,” Miriam said, waving her off. “It’s gut that Andy cares enough about his kids to have ya there. I’ve heard tell that a lot of English parents have no idea where their youngsters go after school, or what sort of mischief they get into while their mamms and dats are away at work. Askin’ for trouble, they are.”
The door closed against the snow with a whump, leaving Miriam in a kitchen that was silent except for the hum of the big freezers and fridges. She savored the hush of this fragrant kitchen where she had found a whole new life since Jesse had passed.
Jah, Lord, Rhoda’s ready for a new life, too, she prayed. And meanwhile, I ask Ya to be with her and Sheila and Andy—all the folks who have to run the roads today. I’m ever so grateful to be workin’ right here on my home place, doin’ what I love with a fella Ya created just for me.
As Rhoda walked up the driveway toward Andy’s house, along a cleared path the width of a snow shovel blade, she sensed the kids might show their naughtier sides today because they’d been given an unexpected vacation. As Andy let her inside, she was glad she could help him out. He hadn’t even driven to work yet and he looked weary.
“Rhoda, you’re a lifesaver,” he murmured. “A couple of the other interns went home with the flu yesterday, so I’m going in early to cover some of their patients. When Taylor and Brett heard school was called off, they jumped back into bed, so you’ll have some peace and quiet for a while.”
When she caught a movement in the hallway, Rhoda waved at the woman who was shuffling slowly behind her walker. “Ah, but your mamm’s outta bed. Betty and I’ll have a nice cup of tea to start our day. Don’t worry about a thing, Andy.”
The lines on his face nearly disappeared as he smiled at her. “I so appreciate all you do for me, Rhoda—and for my family,” he added quickly.
Was there a new intensity, a wistfulness, in his reply? Or was she hearing Andy’s words with wishful ears?
Don’t let me get all wrapped up in Andy’s kindness, thinkin’ he’s interested in me, she prayed. She watched his car back into the street and then fishtail on the packed snow. Keep him safe, Lord. A lot of folks depend on him.
Rhoda went into the kitchen then, saddened by the way Betty labored to walk. She quickly pulled out a chair so the poor old soul could land in it. Betty’s white hair stuck out in tufts and her chenille robe looked as if she’d eaten a few meals with unsteady hands. “It’s gut to see ya up and about on this snowy morning,” she said in a cheerful voice. “Will ya have a cup of hot tea with me? Maybe some eggs and toast or a bowl of oatmeal?”
Betty’s face brightened. “Snow?” she mumbled.
“Jah, the kids’re home from school today, but they’re sleepin’ in. So it’s just you and me for a while.” Rhoda stooped to smile directly into Betty’s eyes, pleased to see that her inner lights were burning even if her muscles couldn’t fully show it. “You’d feel better if we got ya showered and into a clean nightgown and robe, ain’t so?”
Andy’s mother held her gaze, maintaining the connection between them for as long as she could. Then she looked down at Rhoda’s shoulders. “I . . . like your dress,” she said with some difficulty. “No . . . buttons.”
Rhoda’s eyebrows rose. “Are ya sayin’ you’d wear daytime clothes if ya could fasten them easier?”
Betty nodded eagerly, fingering Rhoda’s sleeve. “I’ve got . . . a sewing machine. Fabric, too.”
Rhoda’s heart thumped faster. Andy’s mamm seemed to be emerging from behind the damage her stroke had done, back into being interested in everyday life. “I sew all my own dresses, ya know. I could make ya somethin’ simple—”
“Like your dress. Apron, too.” Her eyes were shining and clear, alert to this new idea. “Mother . . . always wore aprons . . . at home.”
“So you’re wantin’ a Plain dress? I could make ya some of those in my sleep.” Her mind raced, eager to begin this worthwhile project. “And if ya have snaps, I could put them down the dress front so ya could put them on yourself, ain’t so?”
Oh, but Betty smiled! While Rhoda suspected it would take a lot of time and therapy before Andy’s mother could fasten her clothing, who was she to dampen Betty’s excitement by saying so? The two of them ate their eggs and drank their tea faster than she would’ve thought possible. Once they got to Betty’s room, Betty showed Rhoda a walk-in closet that held bins of neatly folded fabrics, spools of thread, and a console sewing machine that hadn’t been opened for a long while, judging from the stuff sitting on top of it.
“Now we’re cookin’!” Rhoda slung her arm around the older woman’s shoulders. “Let’s get ya cleaned up first, and then we’ll sew up a new dress!”
Betty moved much faster as she got cleaned up, excited about having something new to wear. While she was in the shower, Rhoda chose some fabric pieces large enough for winter-weight dresses. She found some coordinating prints and colors that would work for aprons, too. It intrigued her, the bright array of colors and bold patterns Andy’s mother had chosen when she was sewing for herself.
“Rhoda?” a little voice spoke behind her.
Rhoda turned and then giggled: Taylor stood in the closet doorway, her light brown hair forming a wispy halo around a face still groggy with sleep. Her flannel pajamas were bright pink with some sort of white cartoon cat on them, and she held a well-loved stuffed dog. “Mornin’ to ya, honey-bug. Did ya sleep gut after ya heard ya didn’t have school today?”
Taylor nodded sleepily, glancing at the fabrics Rhoda had chosen. “Whatcha doin’? Gram brought all this stuff when she moved in with us, couple of years ago.”
“And did she sew lots of perty clothes, back before she had her stroke?” It wouldn’t do to be nosy, but Betty’s granddaughter would have quick answers to things that didn’t add up . . . like why, for instance, most of the clothing hanging in Betty’s other closet looked dull and shapeless and, well . . . depressing.
Taylor shrugged. “She wore sweats mostly, after PawPaw died. Didn’t come out of her room a lot, ’coz she and Mommy didn’t get along too good.”
And wasn’t that a sad situation for two young children to witness? And for Andy to be caught in the middle—tryin’ to keep his wife happy while doin’ the right thing, givin’ his widowed mamm a home? From what she’d seen of English ways, it seemed the generations of their families often lived separate lives, splintered off from each other like strips of bark fallen off the family tree.
“So . . . was Gram gonna make clothes from these wild designs?” Taylor reached into a bin of colorful fabrics to get a better look at them.
Rhoda decided to take this conversation a bit further while Betty was still in the shower. “Does that surprise ya, that she used to sew up such bright, perty pieces?”
“Jah,” the girl murmured, unaware that she’d picked up on some Amish dialect. “Look at that awesome purple with the bright pink polka dots, Rhoda! Now, can’t you see me wearing that instead of Gram?”
Rhoda chuckled. “Maybe if ya ask her real nice, she’d let ya have that piece.”
An exasperated sigh escaped the girl. “But I don’t know how to sew!”
“Hmmmm,” Rhoda said with an exaggerated roll of her eyes. “But someone in this closet does. Maybe if ya asked her real nice—”
“You mean it, Rhoda? You’d make me a dress from that? Pretty pleeeease?”
Rhoda’s heart swelled as she held up the polka-dot fabric. “If ya don’t want a lot of pleats or ruffles or what-not—”
“Yuck! Not ruffles!”
“—there’s enough here for a dress or a jumper, jah. But you’re askin’ Gram about that before ya get your heart set on it, ain’t so?”
“And if you’ll be in charge of breakfast for you and your brother—and keep him outta here while I’m dressin’ your gram—I’ll be happy to sew ya something,” Rhoda replied. “But your gram’s dresses come first, so she can start to dress herself of a morning. She’s all excited about gettin’ new clothes, ya see.”
The little girl’s eyebrows rose slowly. “So . . . how will you know what size to make them? And how to sew the kind of dress she wants?”
“Truth be told, she asked for a Plain-style dress like I’m wearin’, so she can snap it shut in the front.” Rhoda pointed to the way her own dress was pinned beneath her vee-shaped cape. She watched Taylor’s reaction to that, considering that most English women wouldn’t ask for an Amish dress even if it was an easier style to fasten. “She wants aprons, too. Her own mamm wore them to do her housework, and an apron’ll keep her dress cleaner when she eats, too.”
“That would be a good thing,” Taylor replied matter-of-factly. “She tries real hard, but sometimes the fork doesn’t stay in her hand, or she can’t keep the food in her mouth too good.” Her brows puckered. “I thought Amish ladies didn’t wear bright colors or designs.”
“Well, I wear brighter solid colors in the summer than this green I’ve got on, but Mennonite ladies wear prints. They use the same basic Plain patterns for cuttin’ out their clothes as we Amish do, though.” Rhoda shrugged. “Your gram wants a simpler way to take care of herself. I think that’s a real gut idea, and I know you’ll help her all ya can, Taylor.”
Rhoda wondered if Taylor would quiz her about the differences between Mennonites and Amish, but the girl glanced up at the ceiling, listening. “Brett’s up,” she murmured. “I’ll get him into the kitchen real quick. See ya later, Rhoda.”
“Jah, I’ll be there in a few, honey-bug.”
Taylor turned in the doorway of the closet, grinning as though they shared a fine secret. “You talk kinda funny, Rhoda, but it’s cute, you know it?”
Winter of Wishes Page 8