“Who called you?” Andy demanded. “Surely you didn’t believe just anybody—”
“May I see the letter you’ve spoken of?” McClatchey asked coolly. “Documentation will help us sort out this situation. And it’s only fair for Andy to be on the same page.”
Megan’s eyebrows rose. “I see no reason to disclose my source. I’m Brett and Taylor’s mother, and that supersedes any—”
“Not if you don’t have custody, it doesn’t.” The officer shrugged. “If this matter goes to court, the judge will insist on having this document, so you’ll save everyone a lot of time and expense if you’ll show it to me, Ms. Zylinsky.”
Megan looked from the policeman to Andy, stiffening. “I see how it is. You’re siding with Andy. You men will stick together to—”
“No, ma’am, I happen to know Rhoda Lantz and her family. They’re among the finest citizens in the county,” McClatchey replied. He leaned his elbows on his thighs, fixing his gaze on Megan. “Rhoda’s the reason two little boys got proper care after a nasty sleigh accident a couple weeks ago, because she called Andy to the scene. I can’t believe your children are in any danger whatsoever, and I would trust her implicitly with my own children’s welfare. Now let’s see that letter, or we’ll need to go to the station to finish this discussion.”
Megan’s face fell. She looked ready to protest further, but then dug through her purse and thrust an envelope at the policeman.
“How many calls did you receive? And from whom?” he asked as he unfolded the single page.
Megan cleared her throat. “I . . . he spoke with such authority. Knew enough about my kids to be the real deal. And having lived here in New Haven, around Amish people—”
“You don’t know who called you? But you believed a total stranger instead of asking me?” Andy rasped. This was more than he could tolerate. But McClatchey had the situation under control, so he settled down . . . wondered how much of this nonsense Rhoda had endured before she’d been sent away. If Megan had told her anything that had set Rhoda against him, he would—
“—I knew exactly what he was talking about. I don’t want Brett and Taylor sacrificing themselves to that religion,” Megan finished in a huff.
McClatchey read the letter in his own good time, his expression closed. “And do you recognize this signature?” he asked. “I find it odd that someone would type the letter without also typing his or her name beneath such an illegible signature. Unless this person knows you personally.”
Again Megan clammed up, looking miffed.
“May I show this to Mr. Leitner?”
“Whatever,” Megan snapped. She crossed her arms, looking around the living room as though gathering further evidence that her children shouldn’t be living here.
Except for a few boxes of Christmas decorations that hadn’t been taped shut, however, the house looked immaculate. Andy silently thanked Rhoda for that as he looked at the letter, hoping it didn’t rattle in his hands as he held it.
Dear Ms. Zylinsky, I regret being the bearer of such unfortunate tidings, but it behooves me to inform you once again that your children, Brett and Taylor Leitner, have come under the persuasion of a certain Rhoda Lantz while she has been performing housekeeping chores for their father. You should be aware that Miss Lantz has gone against the orders of her Amish leaders by becoming involved with your ex-husband, beguiling him into entertaining notions of becoming Amish so he can marry her.
Andy thrust the letter away as though the words were burning holes in his eyes. Suspicions were coming to a rapid boil in his mind, but expressing his exasperation would only give Megan more fuel for her arguments. “This is absurd,” he muttered.
“Any notion of who wrote it?” Officer McClatchey asked.
“I have a pretty good idea, yes.” Andy exhaled with a hiss.
“Are the writer’s allegations true?”
How much should he reveal? His answers would infuriate Megan further . . . but what did he have to hide? He and Rhoda had addressed the issue of that kiss in his car and had moved forward, so he had no reason to hedge. “Rhoda and I plan to marry after I have taken my instruction to become Amish,” he replied, taking strength from the image in his mind of Rhoda’s lovely smile. “It’s common knowledge around Willow Ridge that I’ll be opening a small clinic, offering my medical assistance to Amish and English alike. My children adore Rhoda,” he added emphatically. “We—we’re delighted that she and her family have welcomed us into their lives.”
Andy focused on Megan then, feeling a sudden calm . . . a strength he welcomed after this past hour’s confusion and strife. “Megan, I didn’t contest it when you left us, nor did I challenge you when you admitted you’d been seeing another man before you demanded a divorce,” he said quietly. “But if you think you can charge back into our lives and destroy the happiness we’ve found—the solidarity we’ve developed as a family—I will fight you tooth and nail. You don’t have a legal leg to stand on,” he reminded her coolly. “Never mind your total lack of concern for the kids when you left us for another man. A fancier lifestyle.”
Megan appeared stunned by the intensity of his stare and Officer McClatchey’s. Finally she rested her head in her hand. “But he sounded so . . . persuasive. So genuinely concerned for the kids,” she murmured. “Justin told me I should fly out here and bring them back with me.”
“Admit it,” Andy insisted, closing his eyes against all the memories her appearance had kicked up. The way his gut was rolling, it felt like the bad old days when they had argued so bitterly . . . when it had been a relief for her to go on business trips. “Aren’t you secretly relieved to learn that your children are happy and healthy? And that you don’t need to inconvenience yourself by taking them into your new life?”
Resentment flickered in her eyes, but rather than fling more verbal mud at him, Megan reached for her purse again. “I can see I’m outnumbered here—outmanned—”
“No one’s forcing you to back down, Ms. Zylinsky,” the policeman pointed out. “If you prefer to hire an attorney and pursue this matter, that’s certainly your right. Meanwhile, I’m glad your children didn’t have to witness this unpleasant conversation.”
“Oh! And they’re still out in the car,” Andy said as he rose from his chair. “They must be freezing—”
“I’ll go with you. Say my good-byes and head on back to the airport,” Megan muttered. Then she let out an unladylike snort. “This whole idea about you turning Amish is as ridiculous as your getting a nursing degree, but hey. Why should I care, right? If you’re all so enamored of Rhoda and her type, I should leave you to your ignorance. My mistake, thinking I could save you from your delusions.”
Andy watched her go outside, confident the kids would do no more than roll down the car windows.
“What a piece of work,” the policeman muttered.
“Can’t thank you enough for your support,” Andy said as he offered his hand. “You and Mom really saved the day. I saw plane tickets in Megan’s purse. She was ready to whisk the kids out of here without me knowing a thing about it.”
“Wish all my calls got resolved so easily,” the officer said as he headed for the door. “I’ll stick around writing my report in the car until she’s gone.”
Andy shrugged. “I have to move my car from behind hers. I hope I can repair all the confusion and damage this stunt has inflicted on my kids.”
And what about Rhoda? Do I still have a chance with her? Or have Megan’s shenanigans ruined the hopes and dreams we were building together?
When Andy looked outside to see that Megan was already behind the wheel of her van, something settled inside him. Could it be that once again she hadn’t told her children good-bye . . . much less that she loved them? He sighed, then fished his keys from his pocket. He had a lot of questions to answer, a lot of wounds to heal. His kids’ anxious expressions stabbed at him as he backed his car from the driveway and watched Megan race off down the street.
“
What happened, Dad? What did Mom say?” Taylor asked as she wiped her face with her coat sleeve.
“That was awful.” Brett heaved a shuddery sigh. “I want to talk to Rhoda, now. I want to go back to how things were before Mom tried to—to kidnap us.”
“Best idea I’ve heard all day, Son. Let’s get Gram and go.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“What if Andy’s ex-wife has taken off with the kids?” Rhoda fretted. “It’ll look like my fault, for sure and for certain, because I didn’t stick around to—”
“Oh, Sister, I can’t picture Andy blaming you for that.” Rebecca stopped unpacking to wrap her arms around Rhoda’s shaking shoulders, as Rachel stepped up to hug her from behind.
“This looks worse than it really is, I’m thinkin’,” Rachel assured her. “The way Andy has eyes only for you, Rhoda, it’ll take more than a woman to chase him outta your life.”
Rhoda wiped her eyes on her dress sleeve, wanting to believe her sisters. Mamma and Ben had gone to Clark to visit cousins who couldn’t make it to the wedding, so the dawdi haus, cluttered with Rebecca’s boxes and sparse furnishings, echoed with their voices . . . sounding as unsettled as her heart. She could think of a dozen comebacks for Megan’s cruel remarks now, but she disliked the way she felt as such spiteful, vengeful phrases formed in her mind. It wasn’t her way to strike back when someone challenged her.
“I’ll put on some water for cocoa, and we can help Rebecca unpack,” Rachel suggested. “It’s better than gnashin’ at the bit, when we don’t know all the facts about—well, would you looky there,” she said as she glanced out the front window. “Could be your prayers’ll soon be answered, Sister.”
Rhoda thumbed away her lingering tears and peeked through the new curtains. Oh, but her heart played hopscotch when she saw Andy’s car pull in. Better yet, the kids jumped out before their dat shut off the engine.
“Rhoda! Rhoda the Reindeer! We’re here to see ya!” Brett called out.
“Gram ate all your cookies,” Taylor joined in. “So we’ve come for more!”
Rhoda rushed out the door. She was giggling at the notion that Betty had finished off all those frosted sugar cookies while Megan had been antagonizing them. When the two children rushed into her arms, she crushed them in a hug, rocking them from side to side. Had anyone ever looked or felt so good as these two?
“Silly gooses,” she teased, gazing into their bright eyes. “Your gram wouldn’t eat that many—”
“Oh, I . . . cleared the plate,” Betty assured her. She was taking Andy’s arm as she got out of the car, a girlish smile lighting her face. “Shared them with the ambulance crew—”
“Yeah, Gram called 9-1-1 just in time!” Taylor crowed.
“And it was so cool when the sirens were cryin’ and the fire truck stopped right in front of our yard!” Brett added gleefully.
Rhoda laughed at this lively account, yet when her eyes found Andy’s she stilled. His dear face showed such concern—for her. He looked so happy to be here after the disaster that had shattered his day.
“Rhoda, I’m very, very sorry,” he murmured as he took her in his arms. He pressed her head to his chest with a tired sigh. “I never dreamed Megan would show up with such cockeyed ideas about—well, if she insulted you, I apologize.”
As the kids took their grandmother inside, Rhoda let out a long breath. “I was so worried that if I left them, she might really take them away. And then you’d be blamin’ me for what happened.” She raised her eyes to his. “What did happen, Andy? Why’d she show up feelin’ so full of vinegar?”
“I’ve got a pretty good idea, but I’m hoping you and your sisters can confirm my hunch.” He stepped inside the dawdi haus with her and gazed appreciatively at the freshly painted walls and gleaming woodwork. “What a great place. Hey there, Rachel and Rebecca.”
“Mighty gut to see ya, Andy,” Rachel answered from the stove, where she was putting the kettle on. “Rhoda was plenty worried about these two kids of yours.”
“And they were worried about her. We all were.” He smiled at the way Taylor, Brett, and his mother were admiring the apartment as they stepped between the open boxes of Rebecca’s belongings. He pulled a sheet of paper from his coat pocket. “What do you make of this letter? This, and a couple of phone calls, had my ex flying out here in a tizzy, ready to haul my kids back to California.”
Rhoda took the typed page and began to read it with a sister looking over each of her shoulders.
Dear Ms. Zylinsky, I regret being the bearer of such unfortunate tidings, but it behooves me to inform you once again that your children, Brett and Taylor Leitner, have come under the persuasion of a certain Rhoda Lantz—
Rhoda’s head swiveled. She couldn’t read any further. “So Megan’s last name is Zylinsky now?” she rasped.
“She went back to her maiden name after she divorced me,” Andy replied quietly.
“This smacks of Hiram’s mudslingin’,” Rachel muttered. “He always uses his hundred-dollar vocabulary when he’s up to somethin’, too. Don’t ya remember how he called Ben’s old girlfriend in Lancaster County to stir up the pot, tryin’ to make Mamma think she shouldn’t marry him?”
“Hiram?” Rhoda gasped. “But how would he know Megan’s name, or her address?”
“A name like Zylinsky would be very easy to track down with a computer,” Rebecca remarked as she finished reading the letter. “It’s a matter of public record that she and Andy divorced. So once Hiram or his computer assistant found her name, he could have looked up her address and phone number on white pages dot com, or used an online people-finding service.”
Rhoda shook her head. “I’m a lot better off not knowin’ how all this modern computer stuff works.”
Rachel, meanwhile, was pointing to the bottom of the page. “For sure and for certain that’s Hiram,” she declared. “That same signature is on our marriage certificate.”
Swallowing hard, Rhoda had to agree that the name on Megan’s letter matched their former bishop’s handwriting. She, too, had signed Rachel’s certificate, after all. “And we all know how convincin’ he can sound when he’s tryin’ to talk ya into something,” she remarked. “But when will his nasty tricks end? What if he keeps on tormentin’ us, Andy? Gettin’ the kids and Betty all upset while he’s tryin’ to keep us apart?”
“Keep us apart? That’s not going to happen as long as I draw breath, Rhoda.”
When Andy wrapped his arms around her again, Rhoda felt his pulse beating in time with hers as his confident voice rumbled in his chest. He reminded her of the sweet-gum tree behind the Sweet Seasons, strong and solid. Able to withstand the storms and harsh realities of whatever their courtship and the changing of his faith brought their way.
“I’m going to call that carriage maker in Cedar Creek today to talk about my special wagon,” he assured her. “Something tells me that’ll be the key to my new nursing service.”
“Dad says you’ve gotten another twenty-five thousand from Miriam’s ad, plus more donations from the locals,” Rebecca said. “Clearly, everyone wants you and your clinic here.”
“And Hiram’s headin’ off to Higher Ground,” Rachel said. “He’ll be too busy recruitin’ folks to bother ya much, ain’t so? Nobody from Willow Ridge is goin’ with him, so he’ll be startin’ up that new colony with a bunch of strangers who don’t know what he’s up to.”
Surrounded by these loving smiles and gentle voices, Rhoda relaxed. What a wonderful world she lived in. And hadn’t Jesus promised that all things were possible with God? As four shorter arms wrapped around her waist, Rhoda delighted in the way Brett and Taylor embraced her while Betty stood behind her, hands on her shoulders.
“We weren’t goin’ to California with Mom, you know,” Brett assured her. “While Dad had us locked up safe in his car, Tay and I came up with all sorts of ways to escape before she got us on a plane.”
“Yeah,” Taylor stated. “Once Mom said all those mean things abo
ut you, Rhoda, I—I didn’t feel like she was our mom anymore. Not like you are.”
“Ohhhhhh.” Rhoda blinked back tears, but these were the kind that welled up when she was so full of joy that it spilled over. As she pulled the kids closer, smiling up at Andy, it occurred to her that not so long ago she had been wondering what to do with her life, wishing for the love and fulfillment she thought had passed her by.
Well, here they were. Another gift from God, come down at Christmas.
And for wishes come true and prayers answered, Lord, I thank Ya from the bottom of my heart.
What’s Cookin’ at the Sweet Seasons Bakery Café?
Because I love to cook as much as Miriam and Naomi do, here are recipes for some of the dishes they’ve served up in Winter of Wishes, as well as some that Rhoda makes for Andy’s kids. I read Amish cookbooks and the recipe column in The Budget, so I can say yes, the convenience foods you see as ingredients are authentic!
Colder weather calls for stick-to-your-ribs soups and comfort foods—and for me it wouldn’t be Christmas without cookies! I make hundreds of dozens of cookies to share for the holidays each year, and most of these are favorites I bake again and again. For an even larger selection of goodies, you’ll want my upcoming anthology, An Amish Country Christmas, which will include a recipe section of nothing but my favorite cookies and holiday desserts!
I’ll also post these recipes on my website, www.CharlotteHubbardAuthor.com. If you don’t see the recipes you want, please e-mail me via my website to request them—and let me know how you like them! I hope you enjoy making these dishes as much as I do!
~Charlotte
Golden Cream Soup
Winter of Wishes Page 28