The Christmas Cradle (19 page)

Lena sat taller on the pew bench as the church service wound down. Being seated among the younger women—Annie Mae Wagler, Millie Glick, Rachel, and Rhoda—had made the long morning pass more quickly, and she'd been able to watch Rachel handling baby Amelia, who'd made her first appearance in church today. Isaiah was with Miriam because Nurse Andy had instructed them both to stay home when he'd seen them at the Sweet Seasons the evening before.

“No telling how many viruses and flu germs you might've been exposed to in that crowd,” Andy had warned Miriam. “We can't have you getting ill before you deliver your baby. Isaiah's to stay home for at least six weeks, too,” he'd added when he'd seen the baby in the kitchen with Lena.

Lena felt odd without her son in her arms, but she'd been able to pay closer attention during her instruction class with Josiah. She'd focused closely on Bishop Vernon's sermon based upon the story of the angel Gabriel appearing to Zacharias, announcing the birth of John the Baptist. What a way with words Vernon had, and what a rolling, mellow voice he spoke with, as though God had been whispering in his ear as he preached.

“As we go out into the world, let's see ourselves as John was destined to be.” Bishop Tom gazed around the crowded front room of his home as he gave the benediction. “We're to point other folks toward Christ the Savior, to turn the hearts of fathers to their children, and the hearts of the disobedient toward the wisdom of those who're just and righteous.”

“We should also pray for the person who tampered with Josiah's grills yesterday,” Bishop Vernon continued earnestly. “Let us allow our Lord to work His justice while we open ourselves to forgiving those who intend us harm. As we do this, however, we're called to take precautions—to protect those who might fall prey to future danger. Let us forgive, forget, and move forward with joyous hearts that will welcome the Christ Child. God bless you, my friends.”

As everyone rose, it occurred to Lena that Miriam and Isaiah were home alone while everyone else in Willow Ridge was gathered at the Hostetler place. Surely they were safe behind those locked doors, for how could Hiram possibly know that they were in that big house all by themselves? Even so, Lena suddenly felt compelled to skip the common meal. She squeezed between the clusters of chatting menfolk to grab Josiah's hand.

“Shall we head back to check on Miriam?” she asked. “Isaiah's probably getting hungry, and I feel funny about them being there—”

“While everyone else is here?” Josiah finished with raised eyebrows. “I see what you're saying. Get our coats while I tell Ben we're leaving.”

Lena made her way through the crowd to the back room where the women's black coats and bonnets were piled on a bed. She hoped her doubts about Hiram were unfounded, but the banished bishop had caused more harm than just the potential contamination of Josiah's meat: he'd poisoned every heart in Willow Ridge with fear about what he might do next. Lena felt sorry for Annie Mae, who had to deal with her four youngest siblings and their questions about their father's wrongdoing. What an awful burden to bear.

She found her coat and bonnet, and then pulled Josiah's coat from a similar pile in the adjoining room. On her way to the kitchen door she chatted with the women she met, explaining why she was leaving before they ate.

“Give Miriam our best,” said Lizzie Glick as she shifted Ella on her hip. “I'm sure she's ready to deliver her baby—and I'm sure Isaiah's ready to see his
mamm,
as well.”

Lena smiled because she was feeling very swollen with milk. Before she could reply, however, Josiah made his way to her side. His face was lit up like the Christmas lights he'd strung around his buggy when he was younger.

“Reuben Riehl—the deacon—just told me about an acreage that's going up for sale soon,” he said as he put on his coat. “It's right down the road, so maybe after Ben gets home we can check it out. There's a house, a barn, and a shed—a combination of pastureland and tillable acres—and he thought the owner was pricing it so it would sell quickly.”

From the kitchen counter where she was unwrapping food, Savilla waved at them. “Don't go over there without me!”

“And don't leave here until I can wrap up some food,” Nazareth Hostetler insisted. “Miriam can't feel much like cooking. I'm glad you kids are there to look after her now. She's not one to ask anybody for help.”

“
Jah
, you've got that right,” Lena replied with a chuckle.

About ten minutes later, Josiah was carrying a box of sliced ham, deviled eggs, sandwiches, and desserts that Tom's wife had packed for them. As they walked along the edge of the plowed road, Lena held her bonnet to keep the wind from blowing it off. She sensed Josiah was studying the pastures and the spaces between the homes of Willow Ridge—not to mention watching for a black Cadillac on the county highway.

When they unlocked the Hooleys' back door and stepped into the kitchen, Lena sighed with relief. The house welcomed them with its warmth, and Miriam's relaxed smile told them she was totally unconcerned about her safety. Isaiah rested contentedly in his basket on the table.

“By the looks of that box, Christmas is comin' early,” she teased as Josiah set it on the table. “Isn't that just like Naz, to send ya home with an armload of food?”

When Lena was ready to mention that they'd not seen any sign of Hiram, the slight shaking of Josiah's head told her to keep that disturbing train of thought to themselves. Their worries had been unfounded, and for that she was grateful. “Everyone sends their best, Miriam,” she said as she smiled at her son. “Nobody could recall the last time you weren't in church.”

Miriam chuckled. “Isaiah and I napped in the recliner and wrote out a few Christmas cards. Didn't think much about church,” she admitted. “But we're grateful to God for this warm home and our lovin' family and friends—and thankful that Andy said it was time for stayin' away from crowds. I didn't think a thing about catchin' a bug until I was already amongst all those folks at dinner last night.”

Josiah smiled as Miriam removed the packages from the box. “Reuben gave me the address of a place that's going up for sale soon. He says it's about half a mile on the other side of the clinic, between here and New Haven.” He fished a slip of paper from his coat pocket. “The guy's name is Homer Yoder.”

Miriam stopped unpacking, her eyes wide. “Now why would Homer be sellin' out? He's a Mennonite fella—eats in the Sweet Seasons every now and again,” she said. “Never married. I don't know anything more about him, but if the inside of the house looks anything like he keeps his yard and outbuildings, it's neat as a pin.”

Lena's heart beat faster as she lifted Isaiah to quiet his fussing. “That sounds promising,” she murmured. “It would be nice to find a place that doesn't need much work before you and Savilla could move in.”

“And before
you
move in, Lena,” Josiah clarified. “Bishop Tom told me we only have a few more instruction sessions, and he'll marry us any time after that.”

“Well, that's the best news I've heard today!” Miriam said. “Congratulations, you two. Ya must be doin' real well in your class. Tom's lenient about things like the live Nativity, but he's a stickler about knowin' our Old Order beliefs.”

Lena held the baby close as she gazed at Josiah, basking in the love that glowed on his face. “Your son and I are going back to our room,” she murmured. “Seems we've got some happy things to discuss while he eats.”

 

 

A few hours later, the
clip-clop, clip-clop
of Dolly's hooves made Josiah's heart dance to its cadence as they rolled down the road. He told himself not to get his hopes up, not to figure that the first place they looked at would be the future home of the Witmer family, yet he dared to hope that another piece of their future would be revealed today. The profits from last night's supper shift, even after he'd repaid the two bishops for the meat, had convinced him that he and Savilla could earn a livable wage at the Sweet Seasons.

“Do you suppose this is it?” he asked as a farmstead came into view. “It fits with Reuben's directions.”

Savilla and Lena both peered through the windshield of the buggy. “It's either this farm or the one beyond it,” his sister remarked.

Josiah slowed the horse. The nearer of the two farmsteads appeared run-down, and the barn clearly needed a new roof. “Nope,” he said as he clapped the lines on the horse's back. “The name on the mailbox is Hilty.”

“
Gut
,” Lena murmured. “I didn't want to think Miriam was wrong, but this house looks pretty rickety.”

“
Jah
, the porch roof is sagging,” Savilla said. “The whole place seems kind of sad, like the folks who live here have fallen on hard times.”

“I've noticed that about several places around the Missouri countryside,” Josiah remarked. “I think Willow Ridge is moving in the right direction, with Bishop Tom allowing Amish and Mennonites to run businesses together and to advertise them online. We saw the benefits of that last night, when so many customers came from as far away as Warrensburg and Boonville.”

“Now this place looks better,” Savilla said in a perkier voice. “The fencerows are all upright and the house doesn't look like it's been added on to slapdab, like some of them do.”

“The barn has fresh red paint—and the shed behind it, too,” Lena chimed in. “There's a fellow sweeping snow off the porch. Shall we stop to ask him about it?”

Josiah longed to do that, yet he didn't want to impose on the man when the place wasn't officially up for sale yet. “This has to be it. The mailbox says Yoder, and everything seems to be in good repair. We'll drive on a little farther and turn around—look at the place from the other direction.”

Josiah steered the horse in a circle at the next intersection and clucked for Dolly to pick up the pace. He was as eager as the girls to at least meet the man they'd seen—he could give Reuben Riehl's name after all, so it wasn't as if they were just pulling off the road without any reason.

Josiah returned the man's wave as he drove the rig toward the house. “How about if you two stay in here?” he suggested. “He might not be ready for anyone to see the house—and he might not appreciate it that Reuben gave me his name. Could be a tough subject, depending on why he's selling the place.”

As Josiah stepped out of the buggy, his heart was beating so hard he wasn't sure he could talk. Lena and Savilla encouraged him with their smiles, so he figured he'd just come out and ask what he wanted to know. Wouldn't take but a few seconds to assess Yoder's response.

“How are you on this fine winter's day?” the man called out as Josiah approached. “Good to see the sunshine, ain't so?”

“You've got that right,” Josiah replied as he stuck out his hand. “I'm Josiah Witmer from Willow Ridge—”

“The fellow who put on that big feed last night,” he replied as he gave Josiah's hand a hearty shake. “Well done! Folks there must think a lot of you, to supply you with so much meat after somebody tampered with your grills. I've got a pretty
gut
idea who it was, but it's not my place to judge. I'm Homer Yoder, by the way. Happy to meet you.”

Josiah nodded. He liked this guy already.

“I'm real sorry I'll not be around this neck of the woods much longer,” Homer continued. “I always enjoy eating at Miriam's place, but my older brother passed away and his family needs a man to keep things together at their farm.”

Josiah blinked. He'd just been handed the perfect opening. “I'm very sorry about your brother,” he said, “and I hope you won't think I'm out of line, but Reuben Riehl told me you were looking to sell this place, and I—” He gestured toward the buggy, where Lena and Savilla waved from behind the windshield. “Well, my sister and my fiancée and I are hoping to find a home in this area. Miriam gives you high marks for neatness and keeping things in
gut
repair.”

Homer let out a laugh that made him look several years younger. “Can't do any better than getting Miriam Hooley's seal of approval,” he remarked. “I'll be honest with you—I haven't thought much about an asking price yet. And I have no idea how long it'll take me to clear out the furniture, or what I'll do with it all. But if you folks want to come inside—”

“The girls were hoping you'd say that.” It was all Josiah could do not to wiggle like an excited puppy. He waved at Savilla and Lena, and moments later they were stepping inside a snug home where everything was as tidy as Miriam had predicted.

“Not a very big house,” Homer remarked, “because after the love of my life died while we were courting, I swore I'd never marry. It's been a
gut
twenty-three years that I've lived here, and I'll be sorry to go. My brother's place is old and drafty, and I'll have to get used to having three teenagers and four youngsters around—all of them girls,” he added with a knowing smile.

“That could be a challenge,” Savilla agreed. “We really appreciate your letting us look around without a call beforehand.”

“I'd like to think of my home going to a young family,” Homer said as he gazed fondly around the front room. “Look upstairs if you like. Three bedrooms and a bath up there. Space enough in the cellar to finish off another bedroom or two.”

Josiah held Lena's gaze, sensing she was as eager as he was to live here. “You girls go on up. You've got a better idea of how much closet space we'll need, and how big you want the rooms.”