Christmas at Promise Lodge

by Charlotte Hubbard

  Rosetta grabbed Mattie’s hand and hurried into the meeting room, feeling ready to burst with excitement. “Did you see that man? He could be our new bishop!” she exclaimed in a whisper. “He could perform weddings!”

  “I heard no mention of a wife, so he could be the man of Christine’s dreams, too!” Mattie murmured. “But we can’t let our wishful thinking color our impression of him. And we can’t assume he’ll be taking Floyd’s place. The preachers and Floyd—and God—have the final say on that.”

  “Jah, but Monroe Burkholder certainly gives us something fun to think about,” Rosetta said as she slipped behind the serving table to pour coffee. She spotted Truman chatting with Preacher Amos across the room, and she gave him a little wave. “If you ask me, it’s time to start planning for a whole new kind of happiness.”

  * * *

  Amos felt his entire body thrumming when he saw Mattie approaching him and Truman with a freshly loaded cookie tray. While his fiancée had always been a hostess who saw to everyone’s needs, Amos sensed she had more than dessert on her mind as she made her way through the crowd. Mattie stopped and whispered something to Lavern Peterscheim and Lowell Kurtz, who set out toward the lobby as though a great adventure awaited them.

  “Here comes a woman with a story to tell,” Amos remarked to Truman. “She and Rosetta both look ready to let some big cats out of the bag.”

  Truman laughed. “Who knows, with those two? Wherever they are, excitement seems to follow. We’ll never lack for entertainment in our lives, you and I.”

  Amos stood taller when he caught sight of a stranger entering the large, crowded room. “And who might that be with Christine? Is he a local fellow—someone you know?”

  Before Truman could reply, Mattie reached them. “You won’t believe this!” she said in an ecstatic whisper. “The fellow Christine’s introducing around is Bishop Monroe Burkholder, and he’s coming to live at Promise Lodge! He got waylaid by the weather—”

  “You’ll never lose him in a crowd,” Truman murmured. “My word, he must stand seven feet tall.”

  “—but he saw Rosetta’s columns in The Budget and felt God was leading him here,” Mattie continued in a rush. “He’s the answer to our prayers!”

  Amos’s eyebrows rose as he chose a dark chocolate fruitcake bar from Mattie’s tray. “Be careful what you pray for, dear,” he murmured. “We’ve already got a bishop who came here for the same reason, and Floyd’s been a challenge at times—at least before he had his stroke, he was.”

  “Floyd’s a challenge for a different reason now,” Truman remarked as he took a sugar cookie shaped like a sleigh. “Have you folks decided whether he can continue as your bishop, seeing’s how he can’t talk anymore?”

  Amos looked around the room until he spotted Eli Peterscheim and Marlin Kurtz. “No, we haven’t, but that will be a hot topic in a matter of minutes, as folks here find out about this new fellow. Excuse me while I call an informal preachers’ meeting, will you?”

  Amos held Mattie’s gaze for a moment. Her pretty face was an open book: she saw this Burkholder fellow as the bishop who could perform their marriage ceremony—and who might be open to Rosetta’s marrying Truman, as well. A lot rode on what Amos might learn about their guest this evening. He wanted to ask the right questions and listen very carefully to the answers.

  As Amos made his way through the crowd toward Marlin, he caught Eli’s eye and waved him over. Give us Your guidance, Lord, Amos prayed as he carefully crossed the floor with his cane. Help us to see with eyes fully open and minds attuned to Your will for us.

  Marlin smiled as Amos approached, pulling a chair from a nearby table. “Take a load off, Preacher,” he said. “It’s mighty gut to see you walking again, and we don’t want you overworking those legs.”

  “I’ve got a better idea,” Amos murmured, gesturing toward a quiet corner of the room. “Let’s you and Eli and I have a quick conference before that new fellow makes his way over here to meet us. He’s a bishop. Told Rosetta and Mattie that God has led him to Promise Lodge, to live here.”

  “You don’t say,” Marlin murmured as he looked toward the man Christine was showing around. “You hear that, Eli?”

  “Another bishop, eh?” Peterscheim asked as he followed Amos and Marlin to the corner. “And what do you suppose Floyd’s going to say about that?”

  “Frances took Floyd home a few minutes ago because she thought he was getting too tired.” Amos looked earnestly at Marlin and Eli, both of them good, solid leaders of the faith and of this colony. “What we find out about this Burkholder fellow tonight may well decide the future of Promise Lodge. It’s in our best interest to ask him some pertinent questions, because we’ve all invested a lot of ourselves and our money to make this place home.”

  “Jah, and after dealing with Bishop Obadiah in Coldstream—and putting up with some of Floyd’s quirks,” Eli murmured, “I’m not of a mind to let just any bishop take the reins here. God has the final word, certainly, but we preachers have a responsibility to our congregation—and to our families.”

  “I say we mosey on over and introduce ourselves,” Marlin proposed quietly. “If we take the initiative and stand together, we’ll be able to sound him out—and he’ll get a feel for how we do things here. He might decide, after he visits for a few days, that we’re not the sort of flock he’s looking to shepherd.”

  “Let’s do it.” Amos stood tall, leaning his cane against the wall. He felt stronger, more in control of this situation, walking without assistance as he made his way over to the knot of friends who surrounded the newcomer. Amos could tell by the rapt expressions on their faces that Minerva, Harley, and Alma Peterscheim were already impressed by the man who stood among them—and Christine seemed even more taken by Burkholder than her two sisters.

  When Minerva noticed the three of them approaching, she waited for their guest to finish his sentence. “Bishop Monroe Burkholder, I’d like to introduce our colony’s leaders,” she said, gesturing to each man as she named him. “This is Preacher Amos Troyer, a founder of Promise Lodge,” she began. “On either side of him are Preacher Eli Peterscheim and my father-in-law, Preacher Marlin Kurtz, who’s serving as our deacon. I believe Bishop Floyd has gone home—”

  “Jah, Frances took him just a few minutes before you arrived, Bishop Monroe,” Amos said as his hand got swallowed in their visitor’s firm grip. “He’s recently suffered a stroke, so we’re watching over him and his family pretty closely these days.”

  “Christine has mentioned your bishop’s infirmities, and I’m sorry to hear about them,” Monroe said as he shook hands with Eli and Marlin. “Please don’t think I intend to take over Floyd’s position—unless God and your congregation decide I will. When folks break away to start a new colony, they often want things to be different from what they could no longer tolerate in their previous place,” he continued in a flowing baritone. “I have no way of knowing your preferences, so I can’t presume to become your leader.”

  The folks around Burkholder were nodding in agreement. The Kurtzes and Lehmans had found their own reasons for pulling up roots and relocating, but everyone who’d left Coldstream had a very specific reason for coming here: a bishop they could no longer tolerate. “So where’d you come from, and why did you break away, Monroe?” Amos asked in a purposeful tone. “And what made you choose Promise Lodge—besides reading Rosetta’s columns in The Budget?”

  Burkholder clasped his hands in front of him, gazing down at Amos with penetrating green eyes. “Why do I suspect you three preachers are checking me out?” he teased. “Would it be best if we went somewhere quiet to talk amongst ourselves?”

  Marlin glanced at Amos and Eli. “I’ve got nothing to ask that anybody else in this room shouldn’t hear the answer to,” he remarked with a shrug.

  “Me neither,” Eli said. “Folks are naturally curious about anybody who wants to come here, and when he’s a bishop, well—we’ve got our reasons for asking some important
questions.”

  “Jah—so will you be bringing your family with you?” Christine put in quickly.

  Amos had to smile even though he suspected his line of questioning had already been derailed. He couldn’t miss the way Mattie’s sister was gazing up at Burkholder with hopeful awe on her face. Monroe’s smile made his dimples deepen as he responded to her.

  “My dear wife, Linda, God rest her soul, passed on last year about this time,” the bishop replied in a subdued voice.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry,” Mattie murmured. “Always harder to lose folks you love during the holidays.”

  “Denki for understanding,” Monroe said, his gaze never leaving Christine. “Linda and I weren’t blessed with any children, and I lost my parents when I was very young. House fire.”

  “Oh my,” Minerva whispered. “Who raised you?”

  “My dat’s brother and his wife took me in,” Burkholder replied. “And I was very blessed that Uncle Herman taught me all he knew about horses—and that Aunt Lena convinced me to join the Old Order when I was seventeen. They gave me a gut, solid foundation for leading a responsible life.”

  “What sort of trade are you in?” Eli asked. “Or do you run a shop?”

  Burkholder smiled. “I breed and train draft horses—Clydesdales,” he replied. “Would I be interfering with anyone else’s business if I set up a stable here for that?”

  “Oh, we’ve got nobody else in the horse business,” Harley replied enthusiastically. “And any Plain community needs gut horses.”

  “Clydesdales, eh?” Marlin put in. “Most folks I know farm with Belgians—”

  “Perhaps I should clarify,” Burkholder cut in with a debonair smile. “Most of the horses I raise are destined for the show ring, for owners who enter them in competitions or drive them in parades. My Clydesdales are magnificent, spirited animals that are more likely to perform in a crowded arena than out in a hayfield.”

  Amos was listening carefully, noting how the crowd around them was growing larger as folks caught bits and pieces of the conversation. Kids and adults alike seemed drawn to Monroe Burkholder’s resonant voice and cordial demeanor, yet the more Amos heard, the more questions he wanted to ask this newcomer. A man’s chosen occupation revealed a lot about his character.

  “What got you into raising show horses rather than farm stock?” Amos asked. “I’m wondering how successful such an enterprise might be here in rural Missouri. Promise and the nearby towns are very small, you see.”

  “That’s one of the things I’ll need to ask you about—location, that is,” Burkholder replied. “I’m following in Uncle Herman’s footsteps, as far as dealing with Clydesdales, because his reputation—and mine—rest upon the fact that Amish breeders and trainers are known for their meticulous methods and the dependability of the animals they produce.”

  Amos noticed that Lowell and Lavern were making their way through the crowd, their cheeks rosy with the cold as they shrugged out of their coats. “Jah, that’s some horse you’ve got, Bishop,” the Kurtz boy said with a grin.

  “We got him all rubbed down—had to stand on a tall stool to do it!” Lavern added as he and Lowell came up beside Burkholder. “We put him in a stall with fresh rations, hay, and water . . . and I hope you don’t mind that we took him for a short spin up and down the road before we tended him. He sure does love the snow.”

  Burkholder’s laughter filled the large room as he grasped the boys’ shoulders. “Clyde never passes up a chance to strut his stuff, and I appreciate you fellows taking gut care of him. If you’d be interested, I’ll be needing some hands—dependable guys like you—when I get my stables built and transport my breeding stock here.”

  Lavern and Lowell gawked at each other, wide-eyed, and then back at the bishop.

  “Wow, really?” Lavern asked. “Come time for school to be out next spring, I’d be mighty happy to have a job—”

  “Jah, you betcha!” Lowell blurted. Then he looked longingly at his father. “Will it be okay if I work for Bishop Monroe sometimes, Dat? I—I know you need me in the barrel factory, too.”

  Marlin smiled. “I’m a firm believer in young men trying out several trades rather than being told they have to carry on their father’s business.”

  “Same here,” Eli said with a nod to his son. “What with Noah and me both being welders, I don’t expect—or encourage—you and your two younger brothers to follow my trade. Not enough work in this area for all of us.”

  “We won’t have to be too concerned about that just yet,” Alma pointed out as she smiled at the boys. “At twelve and thirteen, you’ll both be living at home a few more years before you have to earn your livings.”

  “Twelve and thirteen—and preachers’ boys,” Monroe said with a glimmer in his eyes. “Perfect qualifications—full of energy and raised to be responsible. You’ll learn very quickly that if you don’t focus on those huge horses every minute, they’ll get the best of you. It’ll be a challenge I hope you’ll grow to love.”

  Once again Amos noted how folks in the crowd were nodding, and how Burkholder seemed to know exactly what to say to win them over effortlessly. Mattie was offering Monroe the cookie tray and Rosetta, on the bishop’s other side, was handing him a cup of cocoa—while Christine appeared years younger and totally enthralled with him.

  “Maybe we should call Lester—ask if Bishop Monroe could stay at his place until you men can get a house built,” Christine suggested. “I’d think it would be better if that Lehman place weren’t sitting empty all winter, anyway. Less chance for the pipes to freeze.”

  “Jah, that’s true,” Marlin said. “More than likely, you’ll want to choose land up that direction anyway, Bishop, because a lot of the property close to the road has already been claimed.”

  “If it wouldn’t be any trouble for me to stay in that house, it sounds like a fine arrangement. I really appreciate the welcome you folks are giving me,” Burkholder added as he happily raised his cookie and his cup. “This is much more than any fellow could expect, showing up unannounced.”

  “I’ll give Lester a call right now!” Rosetta said as she started toward the kitchen.

  “And I’d like you to meet my daughters, Phoebe and Laura—as well as the two Kuhn sisters,” Christine said, gesturing toward the refreshment table where those four ladies stood. “It’s fortunate that you came while most of us are still in the same room, after the scholars’ Christmas Eve program.”

  Once again Amos sensed he couldn’t press Burkholder for the information he wanted this evening, so he relaxed and observed the way their guest paid special attention to Laura, Phoebe, Ruby, and Beulah—and the rest of the folks who eagerly introduced themselves, as well. Minerva, Harley, and the others around Amos were making their way to the table for more cookies and cocoa, leaving him with the two other preachers.

  “I suppose our questions will have to wait until Second Christmas—unless Burkholder volunteers the information,” Amos murmured to Eli and Marlin. “Wouldn’t be proper to quiz him tomorrow, on our Lord’s birthday. And I suspect Rosetta and her sisters are already planning for his meals—and they’ll get him settled into Lester’s place for however long he stays.”

  “Best to let the women extend their hospitality first and ask our church questions later,” Marlin agreed. “We’ll probably learn what we need to know while we visit with him these next few days, anyway. Seems like a mighty nice fellow, if you ask me. We’d be lucky to have him here.”

  Amos nodded, bidding Marlin and Eli goodnight. He fetched his cane from the corner, smiling when Mattie came up and tucked her arm through his.

  “What if you and I slip out for a walk? Are you up to that?” she asked quietly. “The snow’s stopped and the moon’s shining and—”

  “A short walk sounds like the perfect end to this Christmas Eve,” Amos said, squeezing her hand. “It’ll help me settle my mind before I go to bed.”

  When he and Mattie had slipped into their wraps, Amos was gla
d he’d agreed to go outside. The night sky was such a clear indigo, scattered with shining stars, it took his breath away. Moonlight glowed on the freshly fallen snow, and as he and Mattie carefully descended the stairs from the porch, the soft flakes fluttered like shimmering diamond dust around their feet.

  Mattie gazed upward, smiling serenely. “What a wondrous night,” she murmured. “Perfect for welcoming the Christ child into our hearts—and for meeting Bishop Monroe, as well. Why do I sense you’re not nearly as taken by him as the rest of us are, Amos?”

  Amos slipped his arm around Mattie’s waist as they strolled slowly toward the road. There was no dodging her question, because she was extremely perceptive. He’d always loved that about Mattie.

  “Can’t put my finger on it,” he murmured. “As I watched Burkholder beaming at everyone and responding to them—not to mention winning their sympathy by mentioning the loss of his wife and parents—I kept wondering why he ducked my questions about where he’s coming from and why he’s leaving.”

  “There’s no denying that Christine’s glad he’s here,” Mattie murmured. “And jah, I saw how the women all flocked around him, even the married ones. Monroe has a way about him. Charisma, I guess you’d call it.”

  “That’s part of what’s nagging at me. Why does a successful fellow like Burkholder—almost too handsome for his own gut—leave his home and established business to come to Promise, Missouri, to start over amongst total strangers? And why on earth does he do this during the Christmas holiday?” Amos asked. He took a few more steps, heading toward his house because his legs were getting tired. “Do I sound too suspicious? Have I lost my faith, wondering if Burkholder’s motives are as open and honorable as he makes them out to be?”

  When Mattie gazed into his eyes, Amos felt the same thrill he always did—yet there was something exceptionally beautiful about her face as they stood together in the hush of the evening.