The Christmas Cradle (16 page)

“I'm going to make him cry,” Josiah moaned. “I didn't mean to.”

Lena chuckled. “I think he's filling his diaper.”

“Ah. Nice to know I have that effect on him—I guess.” It seemed like a totally stupid thing to say, but Josiah had no idea what you discussed while you held your child . . . your firstborn, while you sat beside his mother. When a tiny hand gripped his finger, Josiah thought he might cry—partly from wonder and partly from the fear that he'd lost his sense of direction and would never return to being the man he'd been before he'd entered the room.

“I've named him Isaiah Daniel,” Lena said as she held Josiah's gaze. “What name will
you
give him?”

Her question nailed him, begging for the obvious response that he would marry her and make everything right. And although Josiah knew that was the proper answer, he hedged. “That was Dat's name,” he whispered. “What a wonderful-
gut
—well, you made all the rational thought fly right out of my head.”

“I have that effect on people, it seems,” Lena quipped. “Rational thought's been the furthest thing from our minds more than once, but I don't regret a thing, Josiah. I'm grateful to God that Isaiah's a fine, healthy boy—and I'm
really
glad to have his birthing behind me.”

Josiah laughed softly. “I can't imagine. I—I'm sorry I wasn't here to—”

“Miriam and Andy were the perfect people to have at my side. Angels, they were,” she replied softly. “They've gotten us off to a solid start, so now you're welcome to step in and be the
dat
—but I'm not going to make you do that.”

“Why not?” he challenged. “Most folks think it's past time that I assumed responsibility—”

“Not me, Josiah.” When Lena riveted him with her blue-eyed gaze, Josiah saw no judgment or disappointment there. “I want you to decide, freely and from the deepest part of your heart, that you
want
to raise this boy with me. I won't accept second best, or a part-time commitment. It's all or nothing.”

“I'm in or I'm out,” Josiah murmured. He looked at Isaiah again, aware of how fast and hard his heart was pounding—and of how utterly innocent, defenseless, and dependent this baby was. For the next few years, Isaiah would demand care and feeding and constant attention, no matter what else was happening to the adults he'd been entrusted to. The scope of such responsibility made Josiah squeeze his eyes shut.

In his heart, however, he knew it was time to answer Lena's unspoken question. Sometimes being a man required heavy equipment and tools and the money to purchase necessities. At this moment, however, all he needed was the faith to give a simple
yes
. Josiah didn't know how Lena would raise this child if he went his own way, but he suddenly didn't want to find out that she could get along without him.

“I'm going to stand by you, Lena,” he said in a firm, quiet voice. “I can't leave you to be a
mamm
without me being the
dat
this boy needs me to be. I—I love you. Really I do, even if I've had a funny way of showing it.”

“Oh, Josiah,” she whispered as she blinked back tears. “I knew you'd come through. I never really doubted you.”

Josiah's eyes widened. During the past nine months, he'd had more than his share of doubts—about Lena and marriage and parenthood, not to mention joining the church. Yet now that he'd opted in, the scariness of his decision was draining away. Yes, he was younger than most guys were when they started families. But he'd always been crazy for Lena—even during their fights—and he couldn't imagine himself with any other woman. Her strength inspired him to rise to her level, to believe he was capable of being a
man
. As he held tiny Isaiah, his heart overflowed with a strange yet wonderful sense that he wanted life to go right for this little guy—and for the girl who'd had the courage to birth him.

He sensed that once he was
in
, the Hooleys and other folks around Willow Ridge would help them find a home and get established. One of the benefits of belonging to the Old Order was the assurance that he and Lena would never be left to flounder and fail. They would have a support system here in Willow Ridge, even if Lena's family refused to accept him and his relationship with their daughter.

When Josiah noticed his sister watching him from the doorway, he smiled. “Somebody wants a turn at holding her new nephew,” he said as he carefully gave Isaiah back to Lena. “And that gives me a chance to call Hiram Knepp and inform him that the Witmer family will no longer tolerate his scare tactics.”

Lena's blue eyes widened. “Be careful, Josiah. Don't get so riled up that he'll have you saying things you don't mean—or making threats you can't back up.”

Josiah rose from the sofa, humbled by her astute observation. It seemed that Lena knew him better than he knew himself. Maybe if he started listening to her—and to Savilla, Miriam, and Ben—instead of believing he knew better than they did, his life would be a lot simpler.

“If Knepp's still on the loose, he won't be answering his phone,” Savilla pointed out as she sat down on the couch. “And if you leave a message—”

“He's got a cell phone. When he sees my name on his caller ID, he'll probably pick right up to brag about spying on Lena,” Josiah said. “But I'm not the only one who knows what he's done. United we stand here in Willow Ridge.”

“I like the sound of that,” Miriam remarked from the kitchen. “We've stood by each other through thick and thin in this town. Never imagined we'd be standin' against a former bishop, though. But we're with ya, Josiah.”

He gazed at Miriam and then gave in to the urge to hug her. She barely came to his shoulder, but Josiah knew better than to think of her as Ben's
little woman
. “
Denki
for saying that,” he murmured.

“
Denki
for signin' on with Lena and your little boy,” she replied as she beamed up at him. “Your blessings are gonna start pilin' up like a little kid's Christmas gifts. That's how it works when ya say
yes
to God's call.”

Josiah didn't tell Miriam that the presents hadn't made a very tall pile when he and Savilla had been kids—because it didn't matter. He and his sister had received everything they needed, and they knew they were loved. It was his turn to be the giver rather than the receiver.

“I'll be back after I've talked to Hiram,” he said as he slipped into his coat. “I'm hoping the cold air will keep my temper under control.”

“One of these days Hiram's gonna be put in his place. I can't think the Lord's gonna tolerate his shenanigans forever,” Miriam predicted in a faraway voice. “But it's not for us to know when that judgment'll come, or how. We need to keep mindin' our own business, doin'
gut
for the folks who need it. I'll be prayin' for ya, Josiah.”

Listen closely
.
Miriam is one of the wisest people you know.

He stepped outside, lifting his face to the weak sunshine that was filtered by gray clouds. It looked like snow. The damp breeze pierced his coat and made him shiver. But thoughts of little Isaiah Daniel—Isaiah Daniel Witmer, he would soon be—gave Josiah the fortitude to tap the shunned bishop's number into his phone. As it rang, he paced in the Hooleys' plowed lane.

“Well, well, to what do I owe this honor?” Hiram's voice slithered through the phone, as slick and seamless as a serpent. “Calling to apologize for standing me up, Witmer? Saying you're on your way to Higher Ground to run my supper club?”

Josiah nipped his lip against a retort that would get him into trouble. “No, but I'm going to report your invasion of our privacy to Sheriff—”

“As if I should be concerned about Clyde Banks,” Knepp cut in with a laugh. “He's in my pocket, kid. I pay him to arrest me now and again to make you people think he's doing his job. But he works for the highest bidder, believe me.”

Josiah's eyebrows rose. Nora Hooley had told him that when Hiram had made a deal with the Realtor who'd hit the Knepp twins' sleigh, he'd gotten the land for Higher Ground. Josiah didn't want to believe that the local law officers had succumbed to his bribery—

“Your life would go a lot smoother if you'd honor your agreement with me, Witmer,” Knepp continued. “You'd have a nice home in Higher Ground for that pretty young woman and your new baby—and your sister,” he added with a suggestive rise in his voice. “And if you come to work for me, I'll leave Miriam alone, too. And two little babies will stay safe with their mothers.”

Josiah sucked in his breath. Surely Knepp wouldn't try to kidnap his son and the Hooley child. Would he?

“But it's up to you, kid. How's it feel to have so many peoples' lives riding on your decision?” Hiram asked in a no-nonsense tone. “Make me happy and everyone's world will keep turning. If you continue to defy me . . .”

Josiah swallowed hard. He knew better than to accept Knepp's offer, but if he refused, how many more nasty incidents would befall the people he loved? The idea of Knepp doing something to little Isaiah and the Hooleys' baby—not to mention Lena and Miriam—made him stiffen with anger.

It happened this way when the Devil tempted Christ in the desert
, an inner voice reminded him.
Jesus sent Satan packing—called him by name and declared that we are to worship only the Lord. And from there the angels took over.

Josiah blinked. He'd never followed Sunday sermons very closely, but this tidbit from the Scriptures had come to him at just the right moment, hadn't it? “Get thee behind me, Satan,” he muttered. “As for me and my house, we'll serve the Lord.”

Hiram's laughter was so raucous and loud that Josiah yanked his cell phone away from his ear. He hung up. In a contest of trading Bible verses he wouldn't last thirty seconds—and the more he talked, the more lies and threats Hiram would inject into the conversation.

Josiah inhaled some cold winter air. He'd spoken his mind. He'd told Hiram that no one in Willow Ridge would give in to his threats. It wasn't the Old Order way to invite the involvement of outsiders, but he left a message on the sheriff's phone about Hiram's peeping activities and his insinuations about harming the babies, because someone official needed to know what was going on.

Then Josiah stared at his cell phone. He'd become accustomed to Googling for information and having technology at his fingertips, and he would have to give that up when he joined the Old Order Church so he could marry Lena.

Folks survived for centuries without the Internet or even phones,
he reminded himself.
Miriam's got it right: Knepp will run headlong into a wall one of these days. Your job is to take care of Lena, Isaiah, and your sister, and to let God be in charge of rogue bishops. Knepp will someday answer to a higher power, even if he no longer follows one.

Josiah wasn't sure where these suggestions were coming from, but he sensed that because Miriam had been praying for him, he'd finally chosen the right road. Following her advice made him feel settled and competent, capable of taking on the challenges of a new life in Willow Ridge with Lena and their son.

He smiled. If he didn't give up—and didn't fly off the handle at every little criticism—he might actually make something of himself. And that was an idea worth hanging on to.

Miriam glanced across her kitchen and smiled. Lena was frosting cut-out sugar cookies at the table while Isaiah dozed in the wooden cradle on the floor beside her. The first week of December had already slipped past them, and Miriam was in the mood for baking stars, angels, bells, and other Christmas shapes—and then she was taking them to the Sweet Seasons. She craved Naomi's company and wanted to get a feel for how Josiah and Savilla were doing at the café.

Truth be told, even with Lena and little Isaiah around, it got awfully quiet at home. And Bishop Tom couldn't say anything against her baking here and then selling the goodies at the restaurant—especially because she'd decided the money from selling them would go toward the Witmers' new home.

“What do you think of this camel?” Lena asked as she held it up.

“That fancy blanket you've put on his hump is something I'd never have thought of!” Miriam replied. “You have a talent for makin' these cookies look special, Lena. Folks are gonna snap these up.”

The girl's face turned a pretty shade of pink. “I've always loved making Christmas cookies,” she murmured. “It's so nice of you to let us have the money they'll earn, Miriam.”

Miriam cut out more shapes from her dough. “It's a simple thing, makin' cookies, but we might be surprised at how much income they'll generate for ya. Mighty oaks from little acorns grow—and can ya go open the door for Rachel and Amelia?”

As Lena rose from the table and her array of colored frostings and sprinkles, Miriam placed another sheet of cookies in the oven. It felt odd to have the doors locked—to make family members and friends wait outside. But after Josiah had recounted the details of his phone call to Hiram, they were taking the banned bishop's threats very seriously.

“And how're my girls this morning?” Miriam called out as her daughter entered the kitchen. “As ya can see, Lena and I have been busy bees today.”

Rachel gazed at the trays of decorated cookies. “You used the same cutters when we were kids, Mamma, but these cookies look really
cute!
Not that you haven't always made the best cookies I ever put in my mouth.”

Miriam chuckled as she wiped her floury hands. “I kept the decoratin' simple back then because you girls and your
dat
gobbled them up so quick,” she replied. “But we'll be sellin' these. What brings you and the wee one over this morning? Amelia, you're growin' like a weed, honey-bug!” she declared as she lifted her granddaughter from her basket.

“Teacher Alberta has asked if Micah, Amelia, and I would be the holy family for the live Nativity scene this year,” Rachel replied. “They still have so few kids in school that puttin' on the usual Christmas Eve program won't work too well.”

“It was a wonderful-
gut
pageant last year,” Miriam recalled fondly. “Lena, we had hundreds of folks stoppin' by to visit our outdoor manger scene. Ben set everything up in our barn, with one of Bishop Tom's cows and a couple of my brother-in-law's sheep, along with the Kauffman kids' pony. It was Mary Kauffman and Seth Brenneman playin' Mary and Joseph with little Emmanuel, while the other kids were the angels and shepherds and Wise Men.”

“And thanks to Rebecca, we had costumes and a star balloon up in the sky,” Rachel added.

“That sounds really neat,” Lena replied as she spread frosting on a house-shaped cookie. “I can't imagine our bishop back home allowing the school to put on that sort of program.”

“We prayed over it a while before Bishop Tom agreed to it.” Miriam gazed at her granddaughter as she positioned her against her shoulder. “It all came down to whether Mary felt comfortable havin' her wee one outside on a December night, but with hay bales and a space heater, they got along just fine. What'd ya tell Teacher Alberta?”

Rachel's face lit up. “Micah was tickled that she asked us, and I think Amelia will do just fine, so we said
jah
. I was really touched last year, when so many folks who weren't Plain were singin' the carols with us. It was a really special Christmas Eve.”

“I thought so, too,” Miriam replied with a fond smile. “There's a place for all of us in the story of Jesus's birth. It never grows old, and we never know whose hearts'll be opened when we invite them to the manger.”

“
Jah
, a baby changes everything,” Lena murmured. She picked up a cookie in the shape of the star of Bethlehem. “Isaiah's coming doesn't make much difference to most folks, but he's opened up a whole new world to me.”

Miriam laughed and handed Amelia to Rachel. “Don't underestimate the effect he's had on Josiah. Your young man's got a whole new attitude. I like it that he and Savilla will be Naomi's helpers for a while rather than just runnin' a supper shift on their own. She's tickled to have them—and I'm glad he's gonna take care of
you
, Lena.”

Rachel settled Amelia back in her basket, seeming eager to decorate cookies with Lena. “When do ya figure to join the church?” she asked. “Most new
mamms
allow six weeks before they take their newborns to church, but if ya wait that long, it'll be into next year before ya start takin' your instruction—and weeks longer before ya finish.”

Lena sighed wistfully. “That's a long while, but I can't just start back to church without Isaiah coming, too.”

Miriam rolled out more cookie dough, admiring Lena's insistence on being with her newborn. More than once she'd offered to watch Isaiah, but mother and son seemed inseparable. “If a little bird told Bishop Tom that you and Josiah wanted to start takin' your instruction right away, maybe he'd come to
you
,” she suggested. “With Ben already here and Preacher Henry just across the road, Tom might even meet more often with you so you three can be a family sooner. But that's just me thinkin' out loud.”

“I like that idea, Mamma!” Rachel swirled pink frosting over an angel-shaped cookie and then picked up a pastry bag to outline it. “I might just be that little bird. I can walk past Tom's house on the way home, and he can be considerin' your idea while he milks his cows this afternoon.”

“I like the way ya think, Rachel,” Miriam said with a chuckle. “We couldn't do our farmin' or snow plowin' without big Belgian horses, but it's usually the little birds who get things movin' quicker, ain't so?”

 

 

After breakfast the next morning, Lena offered to redd up the kitchen so Miriam could take their big bin of decorated Christmas cookies over to the Sweet Seasons. “Have a nice visit with Naomi,” Lena said as she ran hot water into the sink. “And if she thinks a dollar is too much for one of those cookies—”

“Oh, Naomi'll probably say to charge a quarter more apiece,” Miriam insisted as she put on her coat. “She knows how much work you've put into them.”

“They're big cookies, too,” Ben said. He helped Miriam with her coat and then picked up the cookie bin. “Once the fellas who're eatin' breakfast see these in the bakery case—and they know you made them, Lena—I predict every one of them will be gone by lunchtime. Luke and Ira might sell some for ya in the mill shop, too.”

Wouldn't that be something? We made more than seven dozen cookies, so at a dollar apiece . . .
As Lena did the math, she decided to mix more cookie dough to store in the fridge so she could bake several mornings a week. It was a project she really enjoyed, and an easy way to earn money toward a new home.

When the door had closed behind Ben and Miriam, however, Lena hoped to share some quiet time with Josiah before he went to work in the café. Savilla had agreed to be an early-morning baker for Naomi, while Josiah was grilling meat for each day's lunch menu. He was also ordering food, keeping the steam table filled, and assisting whenever Rebecca and Rhoda needed a hand—learning the restaurant business from the ground floor up. He and his sister would serve their first supper shift this Saturday evening.

“Ben and Miriam look so happy together,” Lena remarked as she washed the glasses. When she glanced over her shoulder, her breath caught. Josiah had lifted Isaiah from the wooden cradle to hold him! “You and your son look
gut
together, too,” she said softly.

Josiah grinned at her. “He must be getting used to me. He's stopped squirming so much when I handle him.”

“I'm glad you're staying here for a while this morning,” she murmured. “With Ben and Miriam gone, it's almost like we're in our own place.”

“And speaking of that, Rebecca printed out some listings for nearby rental houses, as well as places that are for sale,” he said as he rose from the table. “I wanted us to look at them while nobody else was here. They're upstairs.”

Lena's heartbeat sped up. It was such a pleasant change for Josiah to consider her feelings first—not to mention the way he'd cradled Isaiah in the crook of his arm, holding his head in his hand as though he felt totally comfortable with their son now. By the time Josiah returned and spread the pages on the table, Lena was getting excited. It seemed their future might finally be falling into place.

When she spotted the monthly rental rates and the prices on the homes, however, Lena sighed forlornly. “Oh, my. Can we afford
any
of these, Josiah?”

“Actually, this bungalow's rent isn't that different from what folks were paying in Bloomfield,” he replied as he shifted the baby to his shoulder. “The thought of scraping up four hundred fifty dollars a month probably seems like a lot to you—”

“No, it seems downright
impossible
,” Lena interrupted with a catch in her voice.

Josiah wrapped his free arm around her, coaxing her closer. “But see, the utilities are included in that, and there's a shed for the horses and rigs. And it's on the county highway, about half a mile beyond the clinic,” he pointed out. “To put it in perspective, if you sell those cookies Miriam took to the Sweet Seasons this morning for a buck each, what'll you be making?”

Lena quickly recalculated. “About eighty-five dollars.”

“From one morning's baking,” Josiah pointed out. “So if you divide four hundred fifty by eighty-five . . . you'd come up with five and some left over—about six mornings' worth of baking at the rate you did yesterday. And if Savilla and I can't make a lot more than that on our dinner shift, we shouldn't be in business.”

Once again Lena glanced at the pages that showed homes for sale, but she still doubted they could ever afford to own one. “So if we start small, paying rent for a while, you're thinking we could set aside money toward buying a place.”

Josiah kissed her lightly. “Don't forget that Savilla and I just sold a farm, honey-girl,” he murmured. “We've used some of that money to buy food for the first week of our dinner shift—and we paid off the expenses from the sale of Mammi's place—but we've got a nice chunk left. It's going toward a home when the right one comes along.
Our
home.”

Lena sat absolutely still, absorbing what Josiah had just said. Did she dare believe he was ready to become a homeowner and a church member and a
dat
and a husband and a partner in the Sweet Seasons, all at once?

“It'll be Savilla's home, too, of course,” Josiah remarked.

“Of course it will!” Lena blurted out.

Her outburst startled Isaiah from his nap and his face puckered unhappily. When she reached for the baby, Josiah handed him over, but for a brief moment the baby was supported by their four hands, halfway between them.

Their son stopped fussing. He glanced at her and then at Josiah, as though deciding what he thought about his position. When he let out a brief “heh!” and wiggled his arms and legs, Lena took it to mean he felt happy. Secure.
Loved.

Maybe her imagination was playing up her newborn's sounds and gestures, but it felt like a special, timeless moment when her world seemed to be spinning in the right direction at last. Josiah was gazing at the baby as though he, too, had interpreted Isaiah's actions as something that bound them together as a family. He placed the boy gently against her shoulder.

“What a picture. Mother and child,” he murmured. “Prettier than the paintings I've seen of Mary and Jesus on Christmas cards.”

Lena swallowed hard. Who could ever have imagined Josiah expressing such a thought? “Well, except for the halos,” she pointed out. “Isaiah and I don't have those rings of golden light around our heads because we're not—”

“Not holy? Not angels?” he asked in a voice she could barely hear. “Far as I can see, God sent the two of you to save me from myself. And if that doesn't make you saints already, you'll work your way up to that level if you stick with me.” Josiah smiled, yet he maintained the stirring, solemn mood he'd been setting.

Lena wondered what sort of special air they were breathing—what was causing the Josiah Witmer she'd known most of her life to wax so poetic. So perfect.

“Lena, will you marry me?” he breathed. “I—I don't think I can move out of this chair or function for the rest of the day without knowing you'll always be here for me.”

Tears sprang to Lena's eyes. “Oh, Josiah, of course I'll marry you,” she replied in a tight voice. “It's all I've ever wanted.”

Josiah wrapped his arms around her and Isaiah. He kissed her gently on the lips, once, twice. When Isaiah began to wiggle between them, he placed a tender kiss on his son's forehead, as well. “I feel so much better knowing that,” he admitted. “I've been trying for the longest time to ask you just the right way. Now that the words have rushed out of me of their own accord—”