Winter of Wishes (26 page)

Andy nodded, grasping the slender hand that slipped into his under the table. “I’m
not cut out to be a farmer—”

“We’ve got plenty of that type around here already,” Preacher Tom pointed out. “Truth
be told, long as you’ve got a stable for your horses, it’s not like ya have to have
a lot of acreage. Some families keep enough land to raise hay and grain for their
livestock, but anymore, with risin’ property prices, that’s gettin’ less common. A
lot of Plain folks have to find work away from home to support themselves these days.”

“Long as we’ve got a big garden spot, I’m
gut
with that,” Rhoda said. Then she squeezed his hand. “But we’re all peckin’ at ya
like biddy hens instead of lettin’ ya have your say, Andy. We carry on this way sometimes.”

Andy chuckled. “I don’t know how much land goes with that vacant building,” he said,
“and maybe it’s not even a good investment. But from the outside, it seems feasible
to have a small clinic in the downstairs and maybe use the upstairs for living quarters.
I jotted down the phone number—”

“So give them a call and we’ll ride down there!” The color in Rhoda’s cheeks suggested
she had more on her mind than poking around in a vacant building. “We could hitch
up the sleigh. It could be your first drivin’ lesson with a horse, Andy.”

“And if that building doesn’t work out,” Ben said, “ya might get the Brenneman boys
to build ya just the right kind of place. Maybe a home with a clinic on the side.”

As Preacher Tom caught Andy’s gaze, he tented his hands beneath his chin. “I’m gonna
toss a wet blanket on this talk for a minute, so you’ll understand this issue better
from the Old Order viewpoint before ya invest your money in that building,” he said
in a low voice.

“I appreciate that,” Andy replied. “And I’ll respect whatever you have to say.”

Tom nodded, taking the time to compose his thoughts. “I’ve known girls who took some
nurse’s training during their
rumspringa
, and when they became midwives after joinin’ the church, we welcomed their skills.
Likewise, the church elders have no say about you settin’ up a practice now, as an
English fella. And everyone here understands your need to support your family.”

Andy gripped Rhoda’s hand, waiting for the other shoe to drop. This idea for starting
a clinic seemed so right, even though it had just popped into his mind—and everyone
here seemed so enthused about it—that he hoped the minister wasn’t going to close
his practice before it even opened.

“The final decision about your clinic will be the bishop’s,” Preacher Tom continued.
“While all Old Order districts follow the
Ordnung
, these unwritten rules vary from one community to the next depending on the bishop’s
interpretation of them . . . and his personality, as well, for some are more lenient
than others. I don’t know who our next bishop’ll be, but he may well deny ya membership
in the church if you’re runnin’ a clinic. Or ya might have to close it down before
ya can join. Just keep that in mind as ya make your plans.”

Andy sighed. Everyone around the table was nodding, their initial excitement subdued.
But the minister’s reality check brought up another concern he had about his potential
new career, so maybe he’d better spell it out before he committed to the Plain lifestyle.

“I’m wondering how I’ll be able to practice without the medical technology I’ve come
to depend on.” He let this idea settle in for a moment. These folks had no idea about
the amount of information he could obtain online for treating patients, not to mention
how a computer would help him with the recordkeeping and accessing of patient data.
“And I’ll need electricity to operate the most basic computer equipment. I suppose
I could adjust to keeping handwritten records and consulting big medical books, but
I’m concerned that my skills will become outdated very quickly without the Internet.”

Preacher Tom pondered this for a moment. “Keep in mind that your medical expertise
will be years ahead of what we’ve got now,” he said. “We Amish depend on God’s power
to heal, or to determine we’re not strong enough to survive. That’s just the way of
it.”

“Yes, I certainly heard about that from Hiram.” Andy folded his hands on the table.
He wanted to show his willingness to adapt, for as this minister had told him earlier,
the changes made would all be on his side of this journey. “Anyway, we might look
at this building and see right off that it won’t work.”

“God’ll find a way for ya to have what ya really need,” Miriam pointed out. She gestured
around her café, her arms open. “Missouri law required me to have electricity to run
this place, so I partnered with three Mennonite gals who were allowed to be on the
grid.”

“And now that Dad owns the building—and has a daughter with a degree in graphic design,”
Rebecca said, “Mamma even has a website. And so does the new gristmill. Sometimes
it’s not what you know, it’s who,” she added with a purposeful smile.

Andy could see the cogs turning in Rebecca’s mind. It was amazing, as the two sisters
sat side by side, how alike they were even though they had grown up in cultures that
were worlds apart.
Nature versus nurture
, he thought. It would make for an interesting study as he got to know Rebecca better
. . . not to mention spending more time with Rhoda, now that everyone here seemed
comfortable with him.

“Why not call that real estate agency to see if someone can show it to you today?”
Rebecca suggested. “And if you don’t mind me tagging along on your sleigh ride, I
might look the place over, too. We just never know how God may make our hopes and
dreams come true.”

“Now that we’ve got Jack hitched to the sleigh, we’ll back out of the shed and into
the lane,” Rhoda said as she took the front seat beside Andy. “And you’ll have a little
time for drivin’ before that agent’s to meet us. Are ya ready?”

Andy’s heart was racing as she handed him the reins. When Rhoda had introduced him
to the tall, sturdy draft horse, letting him stroke its straw-colored mane, she had
told him that horses responded to the confident tone of a driver’s voice—or they would
hear his fear. So he was being very careful about what he said. Rebecca sat in the
seat behind them, ready for a picture-postcard ride in a one-horse open sleigh. Yet
he couldn’t forget how he’d come here a week ago to find a horse lying in agony, still
hitched to the Knepp sleigh as the twins lay motionless on the roadside.

He whispered in Rhoda’s ear. “What if he won’t do as I tell him? What if we run into—”

Rhoda took the leather traces. “Jack, back!” she said as she tugged until the reins
went tight.

The tawny Belgian pushed the sleigh toward the open doorway without even looking behind
them. Andy’s jaw dropped.

“
Gut
boy, Jack. Back . . . back.
Jah
, now here we go, fella!” Rhoda sang out.

And indeed, the horse trotted down the Lantzes’ long lane as though he was eager to
take them wherever they wanted to be. Rhoda showed no hesitation whatsoever even though
the gelding stood much taller than she and weighed more than two thousand pounds.

“This is so cool!” Rebecca murmured.

Yes, it was! This time when Rhoda handed him the reins, Andy took them, mesmerized
by the muted
clip-clop! clip-clop!
of the horse’s hooves on the snow and the merry jingle of the harness bells. “Now
what?” he asked quietly.

“When we get as far as the smithy, you’ll want to slow him down. Then ya check for
traffic and say
gee
,” she instructed. “That’s horse talk for turnin’ right.”

What would he do if that behemoth of a Belgian bolted into the roadway? Andy didn’t
have a clue, but this leap of faith was only the first of many he’d have to take .
. . so he relaxed with it. He trusted that Rhoda, an excellent, patient teacher, was
at his side to correct any mistakes he made.

As they got to the smithy, Ben waved at them from the back of his red farrier wagon.
The girls waved back. Andy concentrated on pulling the reins with just the right amount
of tension so the horse slowed as they approached the road. “
Gut
boy, Jack,” he called out as he looked both ways. “Gee!”

The horse whickered and shook his head, making the bells jangle happily. He turned
onto the blacktop, easily negotiating the curve so the sleigh missed the ditch.

“
Jah
, here we go, fella!” Andy said. He grinned at Rhoda. “Maybe this isn’t so hard, after
all.”

“Oh, ya gotta watch for cars and always be aware of the surface your horse is trottin’
on,” Rhoda replied. “But Jack’s been pullin’ our buggies and sleighs for a lot of
years now. He’s a fine drivin’ horse—aren’t ya, fella?”

Again the Belgian shook his mane, as though he loved to make the bells jingle in response.

“Jack was a colt that didn’t live up to the bishop’s standards. Has one sock that’s
not white, so my
dat
got him for a
gut
price,” Rhoda remarked. “Makes me wonder what-all’s gonna happen with Hiram’s Belgian
business when he starts that new colony.”

“Yeah, that’s an awfully fancy barn he has at Bishop’s Ridge,” Rebecca replied from
the back. “But he’s making all his plans very carefully. You can be sure of that.”

“Taking full advantage of whatever he can squeeze out of that Hammond fellow, too,”
Andy added. They were passing in front of the Sweet Seasons, moving smoothly along.
“Now what, Miss Instructor?”

“Let’s turn right here, down the Brennemans’ lane. We can follow it past their house
and across the Riehls’ back cornfield, and we’ll come out on this side of Preacher
Tom’s place.”

Andy tugged slightly on the reins. “Easy, Jack,” he sang out. “Gee here, fella.”

As though he knew the route by heart, the Belgian curved toward the next driveway.
Andy breathed easier. Rhoda sat close beside him, smiling proudly.

“This is where Rachel’s Micah grew up—where Mamma’s cookin’ partner, Naomi, lives,”
she explained. “And that big metal building is their cabinetmakin’ shop, where we’ll
serve the wedding feast after Mamma and Ben tie the knot next Thursday.”

“This is all so fascinating, how you hold the ceremony in your home. And then you
feed all those people,” Andy remarked.

“It’s quite an experience,” Rebecca agreed. “I was in awe the entire day of Rachel’s
wedding, watching everything go like clockwork with everyone helping cook and set
tables and then clear them. Met a lot of people—my own family members, most of them—and
I’m still figuring out which faces go with what names,” she said with a chuckle. “So
don’t feel like the odd man out, Andy. Everyone’s really friendly.”

He smiled over his shoulder at her, grateful for such encouragement. And wasn’t it
the most glorious sensation to be gliding along in this winter wonderland of snow-covered
fields, where crystal-covered trees glimmered in the sunlight? “The kids are going
to wish they could’ve come for this ride.”

“We’ll bring them along real soon.” Rhoda slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow.
“Taylor and Brett’ll be amazed to see how their
dat
’s catchin’ on to so many new things. And that,” she said, pointing toward a barn
flanked by two silos and a two-story white house, “is Preacher Tom’s dairy farm. We’d
best be headin’ toward your appointment now. You’ll want to say
haw
as we get closer to the road.”

He was getting the hang of this! As they passed the minister’s side yard, Andy called
out the turning command and thanked God for a well-trained horse and a loving teacher.
Within a few minutes they had reached the county blacktop again, and he directed Jack
toward the vacant building. A tan SUV was parked alongside it, and with Rhoda’s help
he pulled into the small lot and parked the sleigh.

“
Gut
boy, Jack.” Andy slid to the ground, helped Rhoda out, and then took a moment to
stroke the Belgian’s muscular neck. He was a handsome horse, even if he hadn’t made
the grade as one of Hiram’s show-quality stars.

A stylish woman emerged from the car and extended her hand. “Andy? I’m Jennifer Bradley.
I brought along some information sheets about this property,” she said in a well-modulated
voice, “and I’m happy to answer any questions you might have. The owner passed away
a few months ago, so it could be to your advantage that his kids want to settle the
estate as soon as possible.”

“May I have copies of those sheets, as well?” Rebecca asked.

Andy was curious about her interest in the place, but a tingle of anticipation kept
him from doubting. As they stepped inside, a stale, closed-up odor hit them, but the
rooms looked clean, overall.

Jennifer gave them a rundown of utility rates and other business information, but
he was mostly tuned in to how the space flowed . . . where he might have a reception
area and examination rooms, and how accessible it would be for disabled patients.
A public restroom was in place, but the whole interior needed paint and carpet, plus
another wall or two to separate the waiting area from the treatment rooms. There was
no way of telling whether the electrical wiring and plumbing needed an overhaul until
contractors looked things over. Rhoda’s gaze swept the entire area as she walked quietly
beside him.

“And here’s the stairway,” Jennifer said as she opened the door to a back hall. “Shall
we go on up?”

As they ascended, Andy knew his mom would never be able to handle these stairs. However,
the rooms on the top floor seemed very well suited for an apartment. A small kitchen
was already here, as well as a full bathroom.

“I believe the previous owners used this area for their break room and administrative
space. What sort of business do you want to run here, Mr. Leitner?” If Jennifer thought
it odd that he had an Amish woman with him and another girl who looked just like her
but wore English clothing, she didn’t let on.

Despite Preacher Tom’s warning, it was exciting to say his answer aloud because it
made his dream more real. “I intend to open a small clinic,” Andy answered, “and I
need living space for my family, as well. Can you give us some time to look around?”

“Absolutely. Take as long as you need,” the agent assured him. “I’ve got some calls
to answer, so I’ll be out in my car.”

When Jennifer’s footsteps had descended the stairs, Andy cleared his throat. “Rhoda,
I’m guessing this is nothing like what you’ve been hoping for in a home—”

“But what an idea, havin’ a place to do your nursin’ right here in town,” she said
eagerly. “Rachel’s Micah could give ya a rough idea what the remodelin’ would cost.
He built us the apartment above the smithy, ya know. Now that the mill and Mamma’s
new house are finished, he and his brothers could do ya a real
gut
job, and fast, because it’s all indoor work.”

Andy slung his arm around Rhoda’s shoulders, so grateful for her open mind. Rebecca
was wandering around, opening doors and studying the information sheet. “I’m going
to look around downstairs some more. Give you two a chance to chat.”

“
Denki
, Sister,” Rhoda replied. When Rebecca had started down the stairs, she murmured,
“Don’t know what she’s cookin’ up, but she’s workin’ things out in her mind. She’s
startin’ up her computer design business, ya see. Meanwhile she’ll be helpin’ in the
café, stayin’ at Mamma and Ben’s new house until her work makes enough money to keep
her goin’.”

Andy considered that, but this rare time alone with Rhoda was too valuable to spend
talking about other people’s aspirations. He pulled her close and kissed her. Then
he stepped away, holding her hands in his. “Rhoda, this idea will mean I have to borrow
a
lot
of money,” he said quietly. “Not only for my clinic and equipment but for the real
estate loan and the remodeling costs. I’ll have a good down payment when my house
sells, but who knows when that will happen? Meanwhile, I have a family to support.”

“
Jah
, the same holds true for any Amish couple gettin’ hitched,” she replied. “Fellas
have to lay out a lot of cash once they move away from their folks. Not everybody’s
as lucky as Micah, movin’ into a paid-for house and workin’ in a business his
dat
established.”

Andy smiled down at her, wishing he could present his case in a more positive light.
“I don’t want money issues to come between us, Rhoda. That happened with Megan and
it was . . . devastating. But teaching school was what I was called to do at that
time—”

“And ya were made for healin’ people, too, Andy,” she murmured. “This is God’s own
will, comin’ to fruition in your life.”

“Yeah, well . . .” He prayed the rest of what he wanted to say would come out right.
His heart was riding on the line, and so was their future together. “It might be
years
before I earn enough to keep us going, and to pay off this debt. And . . . and maybe
you’d rather take your chances with other guys while I establish my practice and meet
all the requirements for becoming Amish. I’ll understand if you’d rather start your
family instead of waiting until I can support you, Rhoda.”

Lord, but it had been hard to get that off his chest. If Rhoda wanted to marry sooner,
or if she expected a more substantial basis for a fledgling marriage, he was up another
creek without a paddle. The whole point of becoming Plain was to have this loving
young woman by his side.

Her smile never wavered. “One of the things ya figure out when ya live amongst Amish,”
she replied quietly, “is that we throw ourselves into our families and our work, trustin’
God to figure out the details. When we need money or help, our families and
gut
friends are there for us every step of the way, Andy. When you’re Plain, ya never
walk alone.”

His breath left him. Rhoda’s expression inspired him to trust in God and the Amish
beliefs as completely as she had all her life. She knew no other way. And she had
no previous experience with a spouse’s expectations not being met, so she truly believed
he was capable of becoming her husband . . . her provider. Her breathtaking gaze told
him she wanted him to be the father of her children and that he would indeed evolve
into a beloved member of her extensive family.

“I want you to be happy, Rhoda. If you change your mind about me during this long
process, let me know,” he breathed.

“Too late!” she replied with a laugh. She kept hold of one of his hands, gesturing
around the upstairs space. “So what’re ya thinkin’? This place is a lot bigger than
it looks from the outside. Long as your
mamm
could have a room downstairs, and we could have a bigger kitchen down there where
it’s cooler . . . maybe all the bedrooms up here—”

“Divide the building vertically? Have the exam and patient areas downstairs and the
business area upstairs? That hadn’t occurred to me,” Andy mused. “Although maybe .
. . maybe I should think more in terms of the old country doctors who made house calls.
With so many Plain women still having their babies at home, and farm accidents to
tend, I might be putting too much emphasis on office space. Maybe I need to be more
portable.”

He smiled at this idea. After all, weren’t many Amish ways reminiscent of how most
folks had lived a century or more ago? Maybe he’d be smarter to invest in an enclosed
horse-drawn carriage that could carry basic equipment and provide treatment space
. . . an Amish ambulance of sorts. Folks here would be more receptive to a nurse who
came to them, because it was almost against their religion to seek out medical care.
So many ideas . . . so little money.