Winter of Wishes (11 page)

Andy eased his foot onto the accelerator again. “It was wonderful, kissing you,” he
agreed tiredly. “But we just caused a whole set of new problems, didn’t we?”

A grin twitched on Rhoda’s lips as they turned off the highway beside the Sweet Seasons
Bakery Café. “Kissin’s been causin’ problems since Adam and Eve. But if everything
happens as a part of God’s will, then that shines a whole new light on us, ain’t so?”

Andy shook his head, knowing when he’d been outclassed in the reason and religion
departments. “Good night, Rhoda,” he said firmly. “And thank you for . . . everything.”

As she clambered out of the car and then leaned down to beam at him, Andy knew that
for better or for worse, he would forever remember the expression on Rhoda’s beautiful
face.

“Well, Brother, you’ll never guess who I saw in the wee hours this mornin’, kissin’
an Englishman in his car, no less!”

Ben stopped cracking eggs for their breakfast so he could listen to his twenty-eight-year-old
brother Ira, speaking from the bedroom he shared with Luke. In the apartment they’d
just completed above their new gristmill, the walls still echoed with the emptiness
of the rooms and the lack of furniture and rugs. Maybe Ira’s swaggering tone meant
he was stretching the truth a bit, coaxing Luke to take his bait. Still, Ben’s heart
clenched.

“And what were ya doin’ that ya witnessed such a thing?” Luke shot back. “And how
do ya know who it was? Were ya on the hood of that car holdin’ a lantern?”

“Puh! It was Rhoda Lantz, because she got out at the Sweet Seasons and hurried into
the smithy!” Ira replied. “Millie and I both said her name at the same time. Saw it
all from the sleigh we were ridin’ across Preacher Gabe’s pasture, right near the
road where the car had stopped.”

Ben was already striding down the short hallway, quickly considering his words. He
stopped in the doorway of his brothers’ bedroom. “That’s not something to spread around,”
he said sternly. “It was late and dark last night, so ya might be mistaken.”

Ira and Luke turned toward him, their eyebrows riding high. They were putting on their
heavy flannel shirts, preparing for another day of plowing the snow-covered lanes
around Willow Ridge.

“There was a full moon,” Ira replied pointedly, “and with it glowin’ on the white
snow, it was almost as light as day. Perfect night for a sleigh ride, too. When we
saw a car stopped on the road, I headed the horse in that direction, thinkin’ they
might be havin’ trouble.”

It was a plausible enough explanation, but it still didn’t set right. Surely Rhoda
wouldn’t have put herself in such a compromising position. She’d only worked for that
Leitner fellow about a week.

“And
jah
, you’re gonna ride my rear again about bein’ irresponsible, not yet joinin’ the church,”
Ira challenged. “But Rhoda
is
a member. And she knows better than to be ridin’ in a car with that English fella
she’s workin’ for, let alone kissin’ him.”

“Might’ve been her. Might not’ve been him,” Ben insisted, yet he sensed he was clutching
at straws. “Could be she called a different driver, rather than askin’ Sheila Dougherty
to fetch her at such a late hour—”

“And she was
kissin’
him?” Ira retorted. “I don’t think so, Bennie.”

Ben stepped into the untidy bedroom, wishing he didn’t have to mention this to Miriam
first thing this morning. But Millie Glick was a close friend of the bishop’s daughter,
Annie Mae, and Hiram would be calling on the Lantz women as soon as he got a whiff
of this. “My point is, little brother, that shootin’ off your mouth can only bring
trouble to a family who’s been awfully
gut
to ya. Ya wouldn’t have your mill if it weren’t for Miriam settin’ up the transaction
with the bank, and standin’ up to Hiram when he was none too happy about this land
changin’ hands,” he said, crossing his arms. “And Rhoda’s sister is gettin’ your website
up and runnin’—without you even havin’ to ask her. Or pay her.”

“Are ya sayin’ I’m supposed to lie?” Ira asked in a tight voice.

“No harm in keepin’ what ya know to yourself. It’ll be you in the hot seat one of
these days, Ira,” Ben pointed out. “And if ya upset the applecart with Miriam and
her girls about this incident, they might not be so happy to help ya out anymore.
Just sayin’.”

Ira dropped his suspenders over his shoulders to hook up his pants, apparently done
discussing this subject. Luke had finished dressing, so he followed Ben back to the
kitchen, where a thin trail of smoke was rising from the bread toasting in the oven.
While Ben rescued the bread, swishing the air with a towel, Luke reached for three
of the plates on the new shelf.

“What do you make of Ira’s story?” he asked quietly. “If Millie talks to Annie Mae,
there’s no tellin’ how much further it’ll spread, no matter how Ira and I insist the
girls keep this under their kapps.”

“
Jah
, there’s that,” Ben agreed. “And if Rhoda was caught in the act, there’s no changin’
what she did, either. I just hate for Miriam to catch any more heat from Hiram. Things’ve
been perty quiet with him under the ban, but he’ll see it as his duty to keep Rhoda
from strayin’ off the path. And rightly so.”

When Ira joined them at the small kitchen table, the three of them ate buttered bread
and the eggs Ben had scrambled. They shared little table talk except to agree that
breakfast at the Sweet Seasons seemed the better way to start their mornings, even
if it meant a hike over there before returning to the mill. No dishes to wash that
way, and no burnt smell lingering in the apartment.

But tossing the three pieces of black toast to the birds was the least of Ben’s concerns.
He hitched Pharaoh to the Lantz’s plow blade, waving as his brothers headed to the
eastern end of town to help clear the unpaved roads Willow Ridge kids walked to reach
the schoolhouse. As Ben re-plowed the shoulder of the county blacktop so Plain folks
had more room to drive their buggies, he thought about how to mention last night’s
incident to Miriam . . . especially because Preacher Tom’s rig was parked at the café,
along with several others, even though it wasn’t yet fully light.

Ben pulled up in front of the smithy, which was directly behind Miriam’s bakery. Through
the back door he went into the kitchen, figuring his fiancée would be pulling something
fabulous from her ovens or helping Naomi refill the steam table with fresh muffins
or biscuits. As he stomped the snow from his boots, Miriam’s eyes lit up—and oh, how
those eyes warmed him like hot cocoa as she came over for a quick kiss.

“Mornin’ to ya, Ben,” she murmured. “You’ve got a way of showin’ up just in time to
sample things. I took chocolate date bread outta the oven a while ago, and I recommend
a little cream cheese or honey butter on it.”

Naomi wiggled her fingers at him from the stove, where she stirred a pot of fragrant
chili they’d be serving for lunch. Hannah was out front waiting tables. “Rhoda not
feelin’ up to snuff this morning?” he asked as he joined Miriam by the back counter,
where she’d been slicing loaves of dark, sweet-smelling bread. The
swish-swish
of the dishwasher would mask their talk.

Miriam handed him a honey-buttered slice of the chocolate bread, her expression tight.
“Rhoda stayed late at the Leitners’ last night, while Andy patched up a bunch of kids
after their bus got hit by an eighteen-wheeler,” she murmured. “All well and
gut
, that part. But when I quizzed her about why his car had stopped in the road . .
. well, her moony-eyed smile told the tale. I’m not one bit happy about it, either.”

Ben let out the breath he’d been holding. “
Jah
, well, I’m afraid ya weren’t the only one who figured out what she and her driver
were up to,” he replied beneath the noise of the dishwasher. “Ira and Millie Glick
were out sleigh ridin’. Thought the folks in the stopped car might be havin’ trouble—and
then saw what they were doin’ in there. Knew it was Rhoda gettin’ out, too.”

Miriam closed her eyes in distress only a mother would know. “Oh, but I hate to hear
that. Millie can’t keep her mouth shut to save her soul—but then, it’s Rhoda’s soul
we need to be concerned about, ain’t so? Much as I respect Andy Leitner for becomin’
a nurse, nothin’
gut
can come of this. And Rhoda talks on and on about his kids and his
mamm
.” She blinked rapidly, determined not to cry. “Hearts are gonna get broken, but there’s
no way around it. She can’t keep workin’ for him. And she’d best go straight to Preacher
Tom and confess before he—or Hiram—hears about it second hand.”

 

 

Rhoda opened her eyes and gawked at the clock on the yellow kitchen wall: 7:30!

Mamma had told her to get her rest after such a long day—no sense in dropping dishes
or burning herself on the stove from being exhausted—but she couldn’t recall the last
time she’d been in bed this late. She washed up at the bathroom sink, scrambled into
clean clothes, and wound her hair into a fresh bun.

But when Andy’s face flashed in her mind, she came to a complete standstill, suspended
in her memories . . . recalling the way he had reached for her at the moment she had
leaned toward him in the darkness. Their souls had connected in some inexplicable
way until sheer joy had shimmered between them.

Then Rhoda hung her head. How could kisses that had felt so right, so beautiful, be
so very wrong?

Much as she didn’t want to enter the Sweet Seasons and deal with the disapproval in
her mother’s eyes, there was nothing to do but show up for work. By the looks of the
buggies in the lot, several folks were eating breakfast this morning.

It would be just as difficult to face her twin sister as it was to handle Mamma’s
disappointment. Rachel had been properly courted by an Amish boy, both of them already
members of the church. True enough, their sister Rebecca’s dramatic return had made
some waves in their relationship last summer, but Rachel had never doubted that Micah
Brenneman was the right man for her. They’d grown up next door to each other and had
been sweethearts for most of their lives.

Rhoda wrapped her shawl around her shoulders for the dash between the smithy and the
back door of the café. Was it wrong to express such wishes to God? Did He get tired
of her whining? It had been easy enough to assure Andy last night that God was love,
and that all people were His children, made of that same love . . . but it was another
thing altogether to justify their behavior with that statement today. No matter how
she felt about those kisses, or about Andy Leitner, she knew better than to cross
the line between Amish and English.

Rhoda stepped inside the kitchen and stomped the snow from her high-topped shoes.
The warmth from the ovens wrapped around her as the fragrances of bacon and cinnamon
filled her soul with their sweet richness.

“Mornin’ to ya!” Naomi called over from the fridge. She was taking out several pounds
of ground meat, which would go into the soup for today’s lunch, so Rhoda grabbed the
fridge door and steadied the heavy pan as Naomi lowered it. “Sounds like ya had a
mighty long day yesterday, Rhoda, but it’s
gut
ya were there with Mr. Leitner’s kids when he had to stay so late at the hospital.”

How much did Naomi know? Even though her tone and smile were as warm as ever, Rhoda
again realized the weight of last night’s behavior . . . how it would affect every
little conversation until her sin was out in the open. The only cure was to confess.
Because Bishop Knepp was under the ban, he wouldn’t be the man she’d go to, but it
wasn’t any easier having to tell Preacher Tom what she’d gotten herself entangled
in. Even though Tom Hostetler was a good friend, he might require her to kneel in
confession in front of the whole church.

I can’t deal with that this morning. Not until I’ve sorted out my feelings . . . and
maybe enjoyed the fact that Andy thought I was worth kissin’, for just a little longer.
Is it a sin to feel
gut
, to feel perty, after the way so many local fellas have passed me by?

Rhoda blinked away her musings. “
Jah
, I think Andy’s
mamm
was glad to have me there, too,” she remarked as she hung up her shawl. “I was real
surprised she wanted me to sew a couple of dresses—Plain, like we wear—so’s it’ll
be easier for her to dress herself without any buttons. And she wanted aprons, too!”

“Well, what do ya know about that? Bet she was real happy to have those new clothes,”
Naomi replied. “Fresh colors always lift your spirits.”

Rhoda saw Rachel and Hannah out in the dining room, which was about half full. Her
mother stood at the back counter drizzling white glaze over a pan of cinnamon-raisin
sticky buns. “Mornin’, Mamma,” she said, with what she hoped sounded like her normal
cheerfulness. “
Denki
for sayin’ I should sleep later. I feel all the better for it.”

Her mother’s smile appeared tight. Downright grim. “Always best to start the day with
a clear mind, well rested,” she remarked. Then she gestured for Rhoda to follow her.
“Need some help gettin’ our Christmas cookie decorations down from the shelf, before
ya get busy.”

Rhoda’s thoughts began to spin. While the big plastic bin of sanding sugars, jimmies,
and paste food colors was bulky—tucked away until December—it seemed odd that Mamma
would ask her for help.

“We need to talk.” Mamma slipped an arm around Rhoda’s shoulders to bring her closer.
“Seems I wasn’t the only one who noticed how the car stopped on the road last night.”

Rhoda’s heart thudded. What were the chances, after one o’clock in the morning on
a cold, snowy night, that anyone else would’ve seen Andy kissing her? “Who else, then?”
she breathed.

“Ben says his brother Ira was out sleigh ridin’ with Millie—”

Rhoda grimaced, already sensing what would come next.

“—and when they thought ya were havin’ car trouble, they came on over,” Mamma continued
in a rapid, worried whisper. “They saw what ya stopped for. And after they went on
their way, they saw ya gettin’ out of the car to come inside, of course.”