Winter of Wishes (4 page)

“Yup,” Betty joined in as she shuffled toward a place near the end of the table. She
smiled at Rhoda with one side of her face. “Always make . . . the other person . .
. feel welcome. Important.”

“Good call, Mom,” Andy agreed as he held out her chair. “Making people feel important
is, well—
important
. Respect never goes out of style, even when you’re dealing with your brother or sister
. . . or the person cooking your dinner.” He looked directly at Rhoda until she returned
his gaze. “And dinner smells fabulous, Rhoda. Thank you so much for your thoughtfulness.”

Rhoda flushed. “You’re welcome,” she replied happily. “My
mamm
says it’s her mission to feed people. I’ll pass along your thanks.”

Brett had followed this conversation with a wary expression as he took his seat. “So
what’s
your
mission, Rhoda the Raccoon?”

Now there was a question she hadn’t expected from a boy Brett’s age! And she’d learned
not to dodge an important issue when a child asked about it.

“Well, Brett the Bear,” she answered as she placed a steaming pan of sliced turkey
on the table, “I believe I was born to help folks, whether it be cookin’ for them
or gettin’ them to laugh off their troubles and keep goin’. We all have a lot of
gut
reasons for bein’ on God’s earth. And the sooner we figure out what our purpose is,
why, the easier it is for us to be truly happy with our life.”

“And are you happy with your life, Rhoda?” Taylor asked as she carried the basket
of fresh bread to the table. “I . . . I don’t think I’d like wearing dresses like
yours, or having that funny little hat on my head all the time.”

“Taylor, that’s enough of such talk,” Andy warned, but Rhoda kept smiling. She took
the chair Taylor had gestured toward, pleased that it was the seat beside hers.

“Most English folks—those are families like yours, who aren’t Amish or Mennonites,”
she explained, “have a hard time understandin’ Plain ways. Sometime I’ll tell ya whatever
ya want to know, all right? But for now, I’m hungry, for sure and for certain. Shall
we pray?”

Brett’s eyes widened, but Taylor bowed her head and pressed her hands together at
her chin.

“God is good, God is great,” the girl recited. “Let us thank Him for our food. Amen.”

It pleased Rhoda that prayer was already a part of the Leitner family’s mealtime.
And who wouldn’t be gratified at the way these children dove into the mashed yams
and green bean casserole? Betty was slowly feeding herself with her good hand, opening
her mouth as best she could, and Andy . . . well, Rhoda had watched a lot of fellows
eat at the Sweet Seasons, but none of them had worn an expression of such utter bliss.
With each bite he took, the man at the head of the table closed his eyes to savor
the juicy turkey . . . the stuffing with its apples and pecans . . . the creamy green
bean casserole . . . the warm, chewy bread he slathered with the butter she had brought.

“Now
this
is Thanksgiving dinner,” he murmured when he’d eaten about half the food he’d taken.
“I think I speak for all of us when I say I hope you’ll come here to help—”

“Yeah, do it, Rhoda! Please and thank you!” Brett piped up.

“We really, really need you,” Taylor murmured earnestly.

“—but even if you decide it won’t work,” Andy continued quietly, “you’ve blessed us
with your food and your presence today, Rhoda. And for that we’re thankful.”

“Amen to . . . that,” Betty rasped as she reached for another piece of bread.

Now that they’d all pleaded for her to stay, how could she not take this job? Rhoda
swallowed hard. Ordinarily she discussed important decisions with Mamma or Rachel,
but they weren’t here, were they? And she couldn’t possibly replay this shining moment
for them later.

But this wasn’t a position she could agree to today and then decide, in a week or
two, that it wasn’t her cup of tea. If she said yes, she’d be committing herself .
. .

Four sets of eyes held her hostage. Wasn’t it a fine thing that this family had so
immediately accepted her—said they
needed
her—without having to confer among themselves? For months she’d been feeling like
a fifth wheel on a buggy, out of balance and superfluous, yet in less than an hour
with these folks she’d found a way to be
useful
. At the Sweet Seasons, she took orders and wrote the menu on the whiteboard and cleared
tables, only to do it again and again. Here she could make a difference—she could
make life better for every one of these people.

“Jah,”
she said. “I’d like to come work for ya.”

“YAY!” Brett hollered, while beside her, Taylor clapped her hands. Betty’s face took
on an endearing smile of gratitude even though half of her features remained slack.

And Andy . . . Andy let out a sigh and closed his eyes. “Thank you, God,” he whispered.

The kitchen went still. It felt like a holy moment as they all considered what had
just happened.

Lord, Ya brought me here for this very reason, ain’t so?
Rhoda prayed as she met each of the Leitners’ eyes.
Please help us all remember this special day
—
this special feeling
—
when things aren’t goin’ so
gut
.

“I promise I’ll be your best helper,” Taylor vowed.

“And I won’t call you Rhoda the Rodent ever again,” Brett declared solemnly. “Cross
my heart and hope to die.”

“Ya can’t die, Brett,” Rhoda replied with a straight face. “Think how the house will
smell—what a mess you’ll make when the maggots start munchin’ on your guts. I for
one refuse to clean it up.”

“Eeeewwww,” Taylor said with a grimace.

A snicker made Rhoda look up. Lo and behold, Betty was quivering with the effort it
took for her to giggle.

“Not a pretty sight, Son,” Andy agreed. “But we all appreciate the sentiment behind
what you said. And we’re all ecstatic that Rhoda thinks she can put up with us.”

He gazed at her warmly, his smile framing his eyes and lips with laugh lines. “Can
you start tomorrow?”

Saturday morning Miriam watched Sheila Dougherty’s van pull away, and she let out
a concerned sigh. Rhoda had come in before dawn, as always, to set up the tables and
help get the breakfast shift going, but now that the Brenneman boys and her nephews
were on their second trip to the buffet, while Tom Hostetler; Gabe Glick; her fiancé,
Ben; and a few other regulars were eating at their usual tables, service was starting
to slip. Bless her heart, Hannah had only been on the job for a few days, and it was
clear she did better at cooking than she did at waiting tables.

Grabbing a carafe from the coffeemaker, Miriam saw that another batch of coffee hadn’t
been set up—something the twins did like clockwork during the morning rush. As she
was pouring in the water, the bell above the door jangled. Eight folks from the senior
center in Morning Star shuffled in out of the cold.

“Be with ya in two shakes of a tail,” she called over to them. Hannah had an anxious
look on her face, because none of the remaining empty tables would seat that group.

Ben, bless him, realized her predicament. He signaled to Seth and Aaron Brenneman
and together they scooted three small tables together. Hannah scurried to set bundles
of silverware in place. “
Gut
mornin’ to ya!” Ben said as he gestured for the group to be seated. “Nice to see
everybody out and about on such a cold mornin’, ready for a hot breakfast !”

Miriam flashed Ben a grateful smile. Hannah hadn’t made it around to refill any coffee
mugs—but there was only the one of her when most times both Rachel and Rhoda bustled
about taking care of such jobs.

Lord, help us stay cheerful,
she prayed as she approached the table where the two preachers sat.
And bless my Rhoda as she starts her new job, too. It was so
gut
to see the sparkle in her eyes when she told me about the Leitner family.

Gabe Glick, the oldest preacher in Willow Ridge, held up his mug as she approached.
“You seem to be shorthanded this morning, Miriam. Hope Rhoda’s not under the weather.”

She poured his coffee and refilled Tom Hostetler’s, as well, considering her reply.
When the church elders heard why Rhoda wasn’t here, they might ask all manner of questions.
And of course they would share their information with the bishop, Hiram Knepp. “Thanks
for askin’,” Miriam replied breezily. “She’s tryin’ out a new job, takin’ care of
an English gal who’s had a stroke—a lot like Doris Hilty and the Wagler sisters do,
caretakin’ and housekeepin’,” she remarked.

Hearing his name, Matthias Wagler glanced in their direction. “Rhoda’ll be right
gut
at that,” he remarked. “My sisters never seem to run out of places to work, once
English folks get word of how dependable Amish women are.”

Preacher Gabe, who nowadays looked older than his eighty-some years, bowed his head.
“Gonna have to get a gal like that for my Wilma, most likely,” he murmured sadly.
“Gettin’ so I can’t help her outta bed anymore.”

Preacher Tom was following this topic with great interest. “I had an aunt who worked
at that sort of job for years, cleanin’ mostly,” he said. “What with Rachel off collectin’
wedding gifts, it sounds like the chicks are all flyin’ from your nest at the same
time, Miriam.”

“
Jah
, you could say that. Can I get ya anything else?” When the bell jangled again, Miriam
saw how flustered Hannah was looking as she seated the English couple who came in.
Only two empty tables remained.

“We’re fine, Miriam.” Tom gazed around the dining room. “Your café’s gettin’ busier
all the time, like more folks are hearin’ about this place.”

Miriam headed over to the table of eight from the senior center. Could it be that
the website her other daughter had set up was already attracting more customers? Rebecca,
raised English after she’d been lost downriver as a toddler, had caused quite a stir
when she’d returned to Willow Ridge last summer. Her advanced schooling in computers
and graphic design would probably increase traffic at a lot of Plain businesses in
Willow Ridge.

“And what can I get for you folks on this fine mornin’? Who’s ready to start?” she
asked as she fetched an order pad from the front counter. Most of these seniors came
here a couple of times a month to eat, and even though the menu choices hadn’t changed
since the Sweet Seasons opened, they still took a long time to decide.

Their driver, Connie, winked at Miriam. “It might take us a minute.”

“Somebody’ll be back in a few, then. You folks take your time,” Miriam insisted. “Cold
as it is today, the hens won’t lay your eggs until you’re
gut
and ready!”

A few chuckles followed her into the kitchen, where Naomi was loading plates into
the dishwasher—yet another task Rachel usually took care of. “Is it me, or are we
chasin’ our tails and not catchin’ them this morning?” Miriam murmured.

“
Jah
, only eight o’clock,” Naomi replied, “and I’m cookin’ up a bunch more sausage to
make another pan of breakfast casserole.” She glanced toward the dining room. “Tell
me straight-out, Miriam. Will Hannah be able to handle all this commotion, or should
we be lookin’ to hire another girl or two for out front? If you and I can’t keep cookin’
and bakin’, why, runnin’ outta food’s gonna be a problem like we’ve not had before.”

“Ya got that right, partner.” Miriam helped Naomi carry the chubs of bulk sausage
over to the stove. It was a tricky question to answer, because the two of them had
been close friends since long before they opened the café together. “Hannah’s doin’
the best she can,” she finally replied. “Another week or two of waitin’ tables with
Rhoda and Rachel would’ve been better, but there’s no help for that.”

When the timer dinged, Miriam grabbed hot pads and removed two large pans of sticky
buns from the oven. As she stirred milk into a bowl of powdered sugar to make a glaze,
she glanced out the pass-through window into the dining room.

Once again Ben had come to her rescue: he stood at the checkout, ringing up bills
as Tom, Gabe, and Matthias got ready to leave, because Hannah hadn’t yet mastered
the cranky old adding machine.

Lord, I thank Ya for bringin’ Ben Hooley into my life
, she prayed as she drizzled glaze on the hot rolls,
but he’s got his own work. We need to solve this problem mighty quick—not that I’m
ungrateful that You’ve made the café so successful
, she added.

After all, how many times had she talked to God when they had first opened, wondering
if anyone from outside of Willow Ridge would ever find them? They fed Naomi’s sons
and Miriam’s nephews each morning as payment for her sister Leah Kanagy’s gardening
and Naomi’s working here, so it took a lot of paying customers to compensate for what
those five strapping young fellows devoured each day.

Hannah burst into the kitchen, ready to cry. “All the tables are full,” she whimpered,
“and those old people from the senior center are takin’
forever
to decide, so I can’t wait on the ones who just came in and everybody’s gettin’ impatient
about coffee refills, and meanwhile Nate and Bram and my brothers are sittin’ there
with tables fulla dirty dishes, eyeballin’ me like I’ve got two heads and—”

Miriam squeezed the girl’s shoulders. Poor Hannah looked like a mouse cornered by
so many cats she didn’t know which way to turn. “Take it easy, honey-bug,” she said
in a soothing voice. “Do just one thing at a time. If you pour coffee and water for
everybody, I’ll take the orders. We’ll get through this shift and when folks’re gone,
we’ll figure out who else can help us, all right?”

Hannah glanced doubtfully at her mother. Miriam suspected that if Naomi hadn’t given
her daughter a steady, stern look from where she stood frying up three skillets of
sausage, Hannah might have raced out the back door never to return.

The young blonde drew a shuddery breath and nodded obediently. She headed for the
coffeemaker.

“
Denki
, Hannah,” Miriam murmured as she strode out to take the orders. “You’re a
gut
girl and we’re glad you’re with us.”

As Miriam returned to the table of eight, the bell above the door jangled again and
in strode the bishop. Hiram Knepp cut an imposing figure as he stood surveying the
crowded dining room in his broad-brimmed black hat and overcoat.

The chatter quieted. The bishop was under the ban for his secret ownership of a car,
so Plain folks weren’t to eat at the same table with him until his confession and
reinstatement, come mid-December. He was still a customer in her café, however, so
Miriam couldn’t ignore him. “Mornin’ to ya, Hiram,” she called over. “I’ll be right
with ya.”

Once again Ben came to her rescue. At his whispered suggestion, the two Brenneman
brothers and the Kanagy boys stacked their dishes into the dishpan Ben brought over.
Bram grabbed a rag to wipe down their tables and then cleared the one where the two
preachers had eaten, as well.

“Quite a crowd today,” the bishop remarked as he hung his coat by the door. “Are Tom
and Gabe already gone?”

“
Jah
, they left a few minutes ago. What can I bring ya?” While Miriam figured Hiram could
wait his turn, same as everyone else in this crowd, she knew she’d hear about it after
his ban had been lifted.

“I’m meeting with a buyer for some of my Belgians in half an hour. I’ll help myself
to the buffet.” Hiram took the outer aisle to avoid squeezing between the crowded
tables, nodding rather than speaking to members of his congregation.

No doubt the bishop would wonder why Ben and the other fellows were bussing tables,
but Miriam couldn’t be concerned about that: she patiently wrote the orders for the
senior center table, all of them on separate checks. After she greeted the customers
who had just taken a seat, she took the long list of new orders back to the kitchen.

“How’s my Hannah holdin’ it together out there?” Naomi asked as she drained sausage
on paper towels. Stirred-up eggs and milk waited in a big glass pitcher, and cubed
bread had already been sprinkled with cheese in a steam-table pan. Miriam smiled gratefully
at her partner’s efficiency.

“I think we’ll keep her through today’s lunch, anyway,” she replied. “But we need
gut
help and mighty quick, in case this rush keeps up. I’d best go out and speak to Hiram.
He’ll be askin’ where Rhoda is.”

Miriam plated orders for two of the tables and then stepped out into the dining room
with her loaded tray. Even if the morning was hectic, wasn’t it a fine thing to see
every chair filled? As she set steaming food in front of a young English couple, their
expressions gratified her. “Enjoy your breakfast now, and have a real
gut
day,” she said as she left the tab on the table.

“We found your café online and couldn’t wait to try it!” the young woman remarked.

“Yeah, this looks fabulous!” her husband said as he grabbed his fork. “Getting this
much home-cooked breakfast for such a great price sure beats the chain places. Makes
it worth our drive.”

“I’ll pass that along to the young lady who designed our website,” Miriam replied
with a pleased nod. After she delivered orders to another table of four, noting how
Ben was ringing up the folks who were leaving, she considered what she would say to
Rebecca. Was the website bringing in more business than they could handle? The bishop’s
expression told her to refill his coffee next. Hannah was dutifully setting up the
cleared tables for more customers, probably too intimidated to pour the shunned bishop’s
coffee—or afraid she’d spill it on him.

“And how are things at the Knepp house this morning?” Miriam asked as she approached
his table.

“Jerusalem insists that the kids arrive at the breakfast table on time, and that I
preside over the meal,” he remarked with a rise of his dark eyebrows. “All well and
good, but I still have a business to run. And despite my ban, I need to see Tom and
Gabe occasionally to keep abreast of our members’ concerns.”

Miriam smiled to herself: after a month of being shunned, Hiram was putting his own
spin on the
Ordnung
’s rules for interaction with other folks. Jerusalem Hooley, Ben’s aunt, had taken
it upon herself to corral Hiram’s unruly children while her sister, Nazareth, had
restored order and tidiness to his home. Hiram was tolerating the
maidels’
assistance more patiently than most folks had figured he would. “Can I bring ya some
eggs to go with your biscuits and gravy?”

Glancing up as the bell jangled again, Hiram shook his head. “What I’ve got here is
fine, thanks. Looks like you’re short a couple of daughters today, but your third
one just came in.”

Miriam flashed Rebecca a grin, pleased that her non-Amish daughter headed on back
to the kitchen as though she felt completely at home. “Rachel and Micah are visitin’
with the kin around La Plata this weekend,” she replied as she stacked the bishop’s
dirty dishes. “Makin’ the most of their time as newlyweds, you see. Have a
gut
rest of your day, and give my best to your family.”

Before Hiram could quiz her about Rhoda, Miriam wove her way between tables, asking
folks how their food was. So many of these guests she’d never seen before . . . was
it because she usually stayed in the kitchen, or because these people had recently
discovered the Sweet Seasons online? As Miriam returned to the kitchen with two more
orders, she smiled at Rebecca. It gave Miriam a special sense of sweetness when this
daughter came to spend time with her. And what a relief that she’d stopped wearing
black fingernails and leather bracelets with chains!