Hiram kept his hands in his coat pockets. “You have no idea about the circumstances of her faith,” he replied in a voice that was frostier than the winter night. “She will most likely be shunned—ostracized by her family and friends—well into the New Year, because of your thoughtless lusting. You have compromised Rhoda’s reputation in our community, as well as her chance for salvation in our Lord Jesus.”
The smithy door swung open and Mamma stepped out, clutching her coat around her and holding an oil lamp. Her hair was still wound into a bun beneath a kapp, so she’d been waiting up—but her peeved expression told Rhoda that Mamma hadn’t expected to deal with Hiram. “Bishop, the minute I hear our Willow Ridge church no longer believes in forgiveness, I’ll be packin’ up to go elsewhere,” she said in a strained voice. “And it doesn’t set any too well with me that you, as our bishop under the ban, have been sneakin’ around in the dark to catch my daughter at somethin’, either. Rhoda’s chances for the grace of Jesus are lookin’ every bit as gut as yours do right now.”
Rhoda’s eyes widened. Her mother had always spoken her mind when Hiram challenged her, but this pronouncement resounded like a slap in the bishop’s face—a direct defiance of his authority. Rhoda wanted to grab Mamma in a fierce hug, but this wasn’t the time to show her gratitude.
“I did as Preacher Tom instructed me,” Rhoda said nervously. “I quit workin’ for the Leitner family—”
“But you returned for one last day, just as Lot’s wife defied the angels’ orders and looked back at Sodom,” the bishop insisted. “You chose to turn toward your sin—”
“Sounds minor, my girl finishin’ out an honest job, compared to you hidin’ that fancy car in your barn and drivin’ it around when nobody was lookin’,” Mamma fired back.
“And I take full responsibility for giving Rhoda two rides home,” Andy spoke up as he stepped toward the bishop. “And yes, I kissed her, too. If this means I should come before your church and confess, I’m ready to do that. Rhoda has done a wonderful job caring for my family. Even though she explained the problems my giving her a ride would cause, I overrode her reasoning. The blame is mine.”
Rhoda’s heart hammered. She’d never expected Andy to come forward this way. It embarrassed her, having their kisses discussed so openly, yet Andy’s support touched her deeply.
“You have no place in our church, Mr. Leitner. Matter of fact,” Hiram continued bluntly, “you have no place in Rhoda’s life, or in Willow Ridge. Go home and leave us to repair the damage you’ve done.”
Andy looked startled, but his apologetic glance told Rhoda he was departing to save her further backlash from the bishop—not because he agreed with what Hiram had said. And just maybe . . . maybe he intended to see her again? Or was such a wish her heart’s way of coping with this unexpected confrontation?
As Andy’s car pulled away, a gust of wind extinguished Mamma’s lamp. The three of them stood in the whistling, wind-whipped darkness then. Hiram leaned closer to nail Rhoda’s gaze with his own. “I expect to see you in the front pew at the next preaching service to confess your sins, Rhoda. To plead for mercy and forgiveness. Do I make myself clear?”
Could a bishop order her to appear at the next Members’ Meeting while he was still shunned? Rhoda knew better than to press that question. As her mother slung an arm around her shoulders, she instinctively leaned into Mamma’s strength, needing the sense of solidarity.
“Jah, we’ll be there, Bishop,” her mother stated, “mostly to watch how folks vote for your reinstatement into the congregation’s gut graces that day. Far as I can see, ya haven’t picked up much in the way of humility while ya were shunned, Hiram.”
When the bishop opened his mouth to reprimand her, Mamma held up her hand for silence. “I hear a lot of talk in my café,” she said in an unwavering voice, “and I’ll be surprised if ya get the unanimous invitation ya need to come back into the fold. I don’t know what that means, as far as you resumin’ your place as our bishop. But ya might want to pray on it.”
“Miriam, once again your lack of respect forces me to—”
“Gut night,” Mamma said as she opened the door to the smithy. “My Jesse would never have tolerated your behavior toward his daughter, just as Tom and Gabe have raised questions about the way you’ve hounded me. And if Ben were standin’ here, this conversation wouldn’t be takin’ place,” she stated sternly. “Once again you’re steppin’ over the lines, Hiram, and ya seem to be the only one who doesn’t see it.”
“I will trust in the Lord God, who chose me by the falling of the lot to be your bishop,” Hiram replied tersely. “And I will abide by whatever decisions the members make a week from Sunday.”
“Jah, we all will.” With that, Mamma propelled Rhoda through the open door and locked it behind them. The two of them strode quickly across Ben’s shadowy blacksmith shop, which was lit only by the pale light drifting down the stairway from their apartment. At the bottom step, her mother gripped her shoulder.
“Tell me true, Rhoda,” Mamma insisted. “Did ya do anything else that needs confessin’? If you’re to come out of this situation with Tom still takin’ your side, he needs to know—”
“It was like Andy said, Mamma. Jah, he gave me another ride home—and jah, I went back to spend one more day workin’ with his family,” Rhoda whispered, “but no more kisses. Nothin’ else to confess, except that . . .”
She turned her face, knowing how her affection for the Leitners had put Mamma in a difficult position. “Well, Andy’s the most wonderful-gut fella. And it makes me sad enough, leavin’ him and his family, that I may well declare myself a maidel and be done with it.”
“Oh, honey-bug, you’re young yet! Plenty of time for—”
“None of the other fellas I know will ever measure up to Andy,” Rhoda stated, her heart in her throat. “And ya know gut and well they wouldn’t have offered to stand up with me in church, confessin’ to what happened, the way he just did.”
She gazed at her mother, trying in vain to hold back her tears. “It was only a kiss, Mamma, and two rides in Andy’s car. Andy believes in God, same as we do. If he were a Plain fella, we’d be havin’ no trouble with this situation. Ain’t so?”
Her mother closed her eyes and sadly shook her head. “The devil’s in the details, daughter. Fallin’ for a man who’s not one of us leaves ya only one path to follow . . . and it’s not the way any of us hope you’ll go.”
Rhoda hung her head. Her mother was being much kinder than she had expected.
“But I still believe that all things work out for them that love the Lord,” Mamma went on softly. She stroked Rhoda’s cheek, lifting her chin to gaze into her eyes. “And I believe the Lord has His way of showin’ us what’s best, even if it’s not what we’ve been hopin’ for or expectin’. No matter what comes of this, you’ll always be my daughter and I’ll always love ya, Rhoda.”
“Oh, Mamma.” Her words came out as a sigh. She wished it were easier to walk away from her intense feelings for a man she wasn’t supposed to want . . . a man she’d known for only a couple of weeks.
“Let’s get our rest now. Things’ll look better in the morning.” Mamma gestured for Rhoda to precede her up the stairs. “And if ya still want to work someplace other than the Sweet Seasons, we can ask around. Life’s too short when you’re happy at what ya do—and too long when you’re not.”
Chapter Fifteen
Andy jammed his foot on the brake just as the traffic light turned red. When cars rushed into the intersection from both directions, he realized how close he’d come to getting crushed in the cross traffic. He was on his way to two exams he hadn’t studied enough for, while his children’s protests replayed in his mind . . .
“I don’t believe you! Rhoda wouldn’t leave us!” Brett had declared vehemently. Then he had refused to eat breakfast.
Taylor had begun crying so hard she could barely talk. “But we did our best to . . . I—I thought she loved us, Daddy.”
Andy closed his eyes against the uproar in his mind, against the pain of their morning’s discussion in the kitchen, until a honking horn behind him urged him to drive ahead. Rhoda did love his kids, and his mother, and . . . was he assuming too much, thinking she might feel a spark for him, as well? He had barely gotten Brett and Taylor out the door in time to catch their bus, and he sensed his mother had dragged herself back to bed to remain there until he roused her this evening. She had looked so disappointed. So confused and defeated.
All because of kisses and two rides home. Rhoda warned you about her code of conduct and you had to go and fall for her anyway. What’ll you do after the shock wears off and the kids start asking why she had to leave?
His exam on health-care ethics went by in a blur. An hour later, when he sat for the final on pediatric and obstetrical nursing, Andy’s eyes were skipping entire sentences of the questions and he caught himself checking off answers before he had fully considered all of the choices. He left the lecture hall with the sinking feeling he had just blown his chance at that obstetrics position Dr. LaFarge had held open for him.
All because of kisses. And two rides home.
But his state of mental chaos involved more than what had happened on the road between New Haven and Willow Ridge. He was in withdrawal, craving Rhoda’s efficiency and sunny sense of humor, and he knew of no cure for it. When Hiram Knepp had told him he had no place in the Amish church, or in Rhoda’s life, something inside him had whimpered and curled into a ball.
Now, however, Andy felt the same fiery defiance Miriam Lantz had displayed last night. He returned home from campus, devoured three sugar cookies from the platter on the kitchen counter, and then plopped down on the couch. He turned the Amish manger scene so it faced him, marveling at the intricate details of the figures’ clothing and their gifts for the Christ Child. Rhoda had paid a hefty amount for this hand-carved set, further evidence of her affection for his family . . .
As Andy carefully held the carved manger, where a faceless baby lay beneath a painted patchwork quilt, it occurred to him that Jesus had been born into a family and a situation as conflicted as his. Had Mary and Joseph not followed angelic advice, God’s son would have been slain by a jealous King Herod before He could even walk. All through His life,
Christ had faced opposition, disapproval, and rejection, yet with God’s help He had triumphed over death to change the world with His message of love and hope.
It’s not over until it’s over! Andy’s heart beat faster, yet easier. He craved absolution as much as his family demanded closure . . . and no domineering Amish bishop would stop them from getting what they needed.
Spurred on by this surge of determination, Andy buried himself in online research for the next couple of hours. Once again he followed links to articles about Old Order ways . . . to become Amish you must live among the Amish to show that you’ve given up modern ways, he read. You must learn the Amish language, Pennsylvania Dutch, which is based on German . . .
Andy paused. He’d done pretty well in his high school German classes, and it hadn’t been all that difficult for him to pick up on the Latin he’d needed for his nursing classes. If he could find a willing tutor . . .
He resumed his reading, more intent now. You must give away worldly possessions . . . wear Amish clothing . . . take instruction and be baptized into the faith. It may take years for the Amish to accept you so that you can become one of them.
Andy exhaled wearily. What was he thinking? If it depended upon Bishop Knepp’s acceptance, he and his family would never become members of the Willow Ridge congregation . . .
Andy shook his head, noticing it was nearly time for the kids to get home from school. It was surely another sign that his brain was fried, that he was even remotely considering joining the Amish church. What would he do for a living? From what he’d read, only unmarried girls could teach in an Amish school, and he probably wouldn’t be allowed to practice nursing—if indeed he passed his exams. Where would he live if he had to give up this home in New Haven? How would he and the kids get by without their computers, the TV, and his car? He imagined himself wearing a broad-brimmed hat and a vest, like the figures in the Nativity scene—
Get real, man. This is the most harebrained scheme you’ve ever considered. You’ve only known Rhoda for a couple of weeks. You can get another housekeeper . . . get on with Real Life.
Yet when the kids came through the door a few minutes later, he held up his hands to stop the questions and the protests he saw on their long faces. “Here’s the deal,” he announced. “If you don’t mope and whine and argue with me about Rhoda’s leaving, we’ll go to the Sweet Seasons for breakfast on Saturday. To celebrate me finishing my tests and getting my degree.”
“And we’ll see Rhoda there?” Taylor asked cautiously.
“Most likely. But she’ll be working, understand,” he replied. “And there’ll be other people eating there, of course. Saturday is probably their busiest day.” Once again Andy wondered if he’d lost his mind. Would this visit be a way to restore their sanity? Or would seeing Rhoda only make them all miss her more? At least he wouldn’t have to eat cold cereal.
“Why can’t we go there now?” Brett demanded.
He’d thought of that option himself at least a dozen times today. “Sorry, bud. They closed at two,” Andy answered. “They only serve breakfast and lunch, because they believe in eating dinner at home with all the family together.”
“So why don’t we call and ask if we can go to Rhoda’s house for supper?” The wistful twinkle in Taylor’s eye said she knew the answer to that, but at least her question made them all chuckle.
Andy shrugged, wishing he could go along with their suggestions. “It’s Saturday or not at all. Sorry.”
“Saturday! Yesss! ” Brett cried out. “You in, Taylor?”
“Yesss!” she echoed.
“Can we bring home a . . . pie and some fresh cinnamon . . . rolls?”
They turned to see Andy’s mother leaning heavily on her walker as she reached the end of the hallway, but at least she was up and interested in their discussion. Andy smiled at her. “Mom, we can bring home whatever you want.”
“Then we’ll be . . . bringing Rhoda back,” she replied pointedly. “She’s . . . gut for all of us. Especially you, Son.”
Heat crept up out of his collar as the kids’ eyes widened. Maybe he’d better clarify the situation right here and now. “Unfortunately, she got into trouble because I took her home,” Andy hedged. “It’s against Amish religious rules for her to ride in a car with an unmarried, un-Amish guy. So it was her bishop and one of the preachers who declared she had to stop working for us.”
When he saw questions dawning on Taylor’s face, Andy drew upon what he’d read online. “The Lantz family is close-knit, and Rhoda’s been baptized into the church, so I don’t see her going against her religious beliefs to be our caretaker anymore,” he explained softly. “If she leaves her Old Order Amish faith, the church members will excommunicate her. And they believe she won’t go to heaven to be with Jesus when she dies. I don’t want to cause her family that kind of grief.”
Brett got very quiet. He went to sit on the couch beside his sister, who had picked up the carved figurine of the baby in the manger. “How could Jesus not love Rhoda? He knows how much she’s helped us,” Taylor murmured.
“And He knows how we behave better, because we want to, when Rhoda’s here,” Brett added somberly. “Jesus ought to give her a lot of points for puttin’ up with the names I’ve called her.”
“I wish it were that simple, kids.” Andy was pleased that his children were considering matters of faith on such a deep level—surely another accomplishment he could credit to Rhoda. She didn’t preach at them, but she spoke openly about her beliefs, a topic Andy hadn’t gotten around to often enough. Just one more reason Rhoda’s good for all of us.
“Well, then,” he said with pointed cheerfulness, “we’ll go to the Sw
eet Seasons on Saturday morning. We’ll be on our best behavior, too, so Rhoda and her mom will be glad we came. Meanwhile, I could use some help getting supper on the table.”
Miriam saw them come in—two inquisitive children followed by a stooped woman clinging to Andy Leitner as she shuffled through the door. Four sets of eyes eagerly scanned the crowd in the Sweet Seasons dining room, looking for Rhoda, no doubt.
Miriam stopped rolling her pie crusts to observe them from the kitchen. She reminded herself to remain open-minded and objective, for her daughter’s sake, because once Hiram spotted them from his table on the far right, the situation might boil over faster than an unwatched pot. The two preachers, Tom and Gabe, sat at a table catty-corner to the bishop’s, observing Hiram’s ban by not eating with him. But they would certainly join in on whatever discussion he started about Rhoda and her involvement with Andy. In their usual center spot, the three Brenneman brothers, the two Kanagy boys, and the three Hooleys chatted noisily as they ate their breakfast.
Rebecca, bless her, seated the Leitners at a table on the left side of the café. Miriam’s heart quivered when she saw that Andy and his kids immediately noticed Rebecca’s resemblance to Rhoda and Rachel even though she wore jeans and a T-shirt with a canary-yellow sweatshirt she’d called a hoodie. Rachel was ringing folks up at the cash register, unaware that anyone of special interest had arrived.
Rhoda was at the big stove, holding a metal bin from the buffet table as Naomi filled it with steaming hash browns cooked with onions and bell peppers. As the two of them then topped the potatoes with a layer of crumbled cooked sausage, an excited voice rang out in the dining room.
“Rhoda the ’Ranga-tang! We came to see ya!”
Rhoda’s head popped up and the look on her face said it all: not only did she recognize that little-boy voice, but she lit up brighter than the star of Bethlehem at the sound of it. “Brett!” she called out, oblivious to the way the folks out front were watching this exchange. “Brett the Baboon, is that you?”
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