Breath of Spring Page 3

  Annie Mae gripped her cup, struggling for an answer. At fifteen, Nellie was more sheltered and less adventurous than she herself had been at that age—and more upset by their dat’s unthinkable behavior over the past month. “I wish we knew they were bein’ looked after, too,” she agreed. “But what with Nazareth and Bishop Tom lookin’ to get hitched someday soon—and Tom says Jerusalem’s visitin’ that nice bishop from Cedar Creek—”

  “Jerusalem’s seein’ a fella? At her age?” Nellie blurted. “My stars! You heard all the gut gossip today!”

  “—and me workin’ at the café,” Annie Mae went on, “we’d have to find somebody to look after the kids. They couldn’t stay here by themselves—even if this apartment was big enough for us and the four of them.”

  Nellie sighed. “Jah, there’s that. But someday I want all of us to be together again, Annie Mae,” she murmured wistfully. “I want us all to be home . . . even though I for sure don’t want to go to Higher Ground with Dat. And I feel like such a disobedient daughter for sayin’ that.”

  Annie Mae sipped her tea rather than responding. Home . . . Where exactly was that now? While these pastel walls and simple furnishings made for a nice temporary place to stay, this apartment would always belong to Rhoda Lantz and her mamm. Annie Mae and her sister had marched out of the house on Bishop’s Ridge of their own free will, and they were facing the consequences. She didn’t have the heart to tell Nellie that they might never live with their siblings again . . . might never feel Timmy’s chubby arms wrapped around their necks or hear Sara singing or—

  Don’t dwell on such sad, lonely thoughts. Get Nellie thinkin’ on something else.

  Annie Mae raised her eyebrows. “Heard another tidbit today, too. Millie’s stayin’ at Preacher Gabe’s now, helpin’ with Wilma.”

  “No! I can’t see that lastin’.” Nellie squeezed the liquid from her tea bag and tossed it in the trash. “Boy-crazy as she is, she’ll be sneakin’ out as soon as both her grandparents are nappin’.”

  Boy-crazy. Folks used to say that about me as well as my best friend, Annie Mae thought. “I’m thinkin’ Preacher Gabe can’t afford to pay anybody—and Millie’s the only one of Atlee and Lizzie’s kids that’s old enough, so she’s takin’ care of her grandmother whether she wants to or not.”

  “Gut thing Miriam wanted ya at the café. Lots more fun to be a waitress than a caretaker.”

  “So true.” Annie Mae gestured toward the boxes on the counter. “And Miriam sent me home with sticky buns, green beans, and some sausage and rice casserole. Rhoda said she’d be at Andy’s until he got home later tonight, so we can eat our supper any time we care to.”

  “Supper? It’s only three o’clock!” Nellie teased.

  Annie Mae had to laugh. “The breakfast shift ran right into the lunch hour,” she recalled, “and by the time I realized I was hungry, it was two o’clock and we were closin’ up. I’ve only eaten a few spoonfuls of fried apples all day.”

  “And whose fault is that?” Nellie challenged as she peered inside the carry-out containers on the counter. “Ya can’t tell me Miriam won’t give ya time to eat, while . . . Oh my, but that big, gooey sticky bun is callin’ my name.”

  “I’m hungry for some of that casserole. After watching Naomi stir up the fried sausage and rice with cans of mushroom soup, I could make that without a recipe.” Annie Mae rose to join her sister, who had always been more inclined to eat than she was. And her ploy had worked: Nellie was fetching plates from the cabinet, distracted from her forlorn thoughts about their younger siblings. When they sat down, their mealtime prayer was very brief as the aromas of their food wafted around them.

  “Mmm.” Nellie closed her eyes over her first bite of pastry. “This is so wonderful-gut, Sister. Soft and fresh, with just the right amount of nuts and gooey glaze. You can bring home Miriam’s leftovers anytime.”

  “You’ve gotta taste this casserole while it’s still warm,” Annie Mae replied with her mouth half full. “Naomi cooks the main courses while Miriam bakes the pies and rolls and desserts. Hannah’s workin’ in the kitchen now, too.”

  “Really?” Nellie tore off another inch of the coiled cinnamon roll. “Didn’t think her dat wanted her workin’ so soon after she got out of school—especially where she’d be around English folks.”

  Annie Mae shrugged. “She got tired of hangin’ around home, I think, what with Ezra workin’ at the hospital and her brothers runnin’ their carpentry shop and her mamm cookin’ with Miriam. She um, wasn’t real happy to hear that Bram’s engaged to a girl from Cedar Creek, either.”

  “Really?” Nellie’s eyes widened. She didn’t say as much, but she longed for the day when she turned sixteen and could begin dating, as most of her friends were. “I think you learned more today than I did, Sister. How was Hannah takin’ that bit of information?”

  “She spent a lot of time pretendin’ to look for stuff in the storage room,” Annie Mae replied. “I guess Bram—and his brother—fell head over heels with twin sisters when they went to fetch their new sleigh and courtin’ buggy. Not much Hannah can say about it.”

  And wasn’t that the way of it, with guys? One minute they were eager to please the girl they were seeing, and just that fast another gal could turn their heads. It was one more reason Annie Mae planned never to marry. She figured to have her fun while it lasted, but not to get caught and trapped—the way Mamm and a lot of her friends had—by marrying men who made pretty promises.

  As she absently wiped her hand on her apron, she felt Adam’s reading glasses in her pocket. Now there was something she wouldn’t show her sister. The specs had come in handy while she was learning the items on the menu, but there would be no end to Nellie’s insinuations about Adam Wagler if her sister found out what he’d done this morning.

  But wasn’t it thoughtful of him to see her problem and fix it, without making a fuss? She’d heard several compliments about those glasses today . . . allowed herself to recall that startling moment of awareness when Adam had gently positioned them on her nose.

  Enough of thinking about Adam. Nothing will come of it.

  Annie Mae reached for the remaining sticky bun while Nellie spooned green beans and sausage noodles onto her plate. They were fed and sheltered. Prayed for. That was enough for now.

  As Adam’s Belgian gelding clip-clopped along the county blacktop toward home, he took in the last rose-colored streaks of the sunset on the horizon. What with helping the Brenneman boys finish that kitchen on the other side of New Haven, and then returning to Willow Ridge to repair and repaint some of the shelving units in Zook’s Market, he’d put in a lot of time and miles for one day.

  He was grateful for the steady work, though. It got him out among folks who appreciated his skills and trusted his judgment, far as what species of wood they should use for cabinets, or what colors of paint and wallpaper were popular. Tomorrow he’d be sanding an oak parquet floor for a lady who lived in Warrensburg, and the refinishing would take him a couple of days by the time he made the trip there and back.

  “Gut boy, Jerry,” he murmured when his horse turned left at the crossroads. “Take us on home now, fella.”

  The sturdy horse’s ears perked up, along with his pace. It was Jerry’s way to head quickly toward the barn once Adam guided him onto Bishop’s Ridge Road. As they passed the stately white house where Hiram Knepp and his family had lived, it seemed to Adam that the windows watched him like eyes . . . empty and soulless now that the place was unoccupied. Just beyond the house sat the huge custom-built barn where Hiram had raised and sold his prize-winning horses. A white plank fence stretched as far as the eye could see around the property.

  Quite a chunk of change, sitting there empty, Adam mused as his wagon rumbled past the arched entry sign for Bishop’s Ridge Belgians. No doubt Hiram Knepp had a plan for these structures and the acreage they sat on—certainly the most impressive property in Willow Ridge. But who could guess what their excommunicated bishop would
do next?

  Jerry trotted up the Wagler lane with an eager whicker. Adam unhitched his big enclosed wagon before leading the horse into the barn to brush him down and feed him. It was a soothing routine at the end of each day, yet this evening Adam’s gaze wandered to the back stall they used for storage. Beneath an old blue tarp, his motorcycle sat as a reminder of the trouble it had gotten him into . . . how a yen for forbidden English transportation had turned his rumspringa from a time of youthful adventure into a nightmare.

  “Really should sell that thing,” he muttered as he poured Omolene into Jerry’s trough. He stroked the Belgian’s massive shoulder, inhaling the molasses scent of the feed. “Should’ve stuck with you and the other horses, ain’t so?”

  Jerry blew air from his nostrils and kept chewing, contented now that his workday was behind him.

  Even though Adam resisted the urge to lift the blue tarp, memories of his mother engulfed him. He retrieved the Zook’s Market sack and his bakery box from the wagon before he strode toward the back door of the house. Why was he thinking about Mamm, anyway? Because he’d seen Annie Mae at the Sweet Seasons? The two women weren’t much alike—

  Unless you consider how they both kept their families looking clean and healthy and . . . happy.

  Adam entered the kitchen and sighed. Matthias stood at the old black cookstove, arranging slices of bacon in a cast-iron skillet that was already smoking—probably because it needed a good washing. The countertop was piled with their dirty dishes, and the heavy odor of grease hung in the air. “Time for Ruth or Etta to come and clean this place again,” he remarked as he set his parcels on the cluttered table.

  Matthias let out a humorless laugh. “You really want to hear our sisters howl when they walk in here? They’re probably glad they married guys from Clark and Carrollton, so they can’t come clean up after us very often.”

  Adam didn’t press his point. Talking about their messy house invariably started Matthias reminiscing about how his Sadie had rescued the two of them and Dat from their own grime after Mamm’s passing—which led to recalling how his wife had suffocated during an asthma attack before he could call the doctor.

  Depressing. This place reeks of sorrow and unrealized dreams. Adam pulled out the cans and boxes he’d picked up at Zook’s Market. “How about some pork and beans to go with that bacon?”

  “Nothing I love better than a one-skillet meal,” Matthias replied. “What-all did ya bring home?”

  With a shrug, Adam stuck the paper sack with the others that were crammed between the counter and the pantry cabinet. “Same ole same ole. Cold cereal, mac and cheese—and I saved you a couple of sticky buns Miriam was putting out when I was leaving the Sweet Seasons,” he added as he held up the flat white box.

  “Thank the gut Lord for Miriam’s café—and maybe for the added attraction of Annie Mae workin’ there now,” Matthias teased. “I saw ya watchin’ every move she made this morning.”

  “Your imagination’s working overtime,” Adam retorted. “Didn’t you have enough harness business to keep you busy today?”

  “Matter of fact, I got a big order from an English fella who’s wantin’ tack for his six-horse hitch of Percherons,” his brother said smugly. “He wants all the shiny silver hardware on it, too, on account of how he competes at a lot of big shows.”

  “Glad to hear it. What with Hiram moving away, I wondered how you’d make up for the business he gave you.” Adam was glad their topic of conversation had changed, and he wasn’t giving his brother another chance to come at him about Annie Mae. “So—what’d you think of the way Bram and Nate and Bishop Tom are all of a sudden connected to women? We single guys are a vanishing breed.”

  Matthias dumped a can of beans into the skillet of crackling bacon and then doused the concoction with salt, pepper, and ketchup. “The Kanagy boys fell into a real sweet deal,” he replied. “Amos Coblentz’ll build them a fine home and the best barns for Bram’s auction business and Nate’s horse trainin’, too. Sounds like they’re set for the rest of their lives.”

  Adam couldn’t miss the hint of envy . . . his brother’s assumption that nothing wonderful would ever happen to him again. It seemed that no matter what subject he brought up, their talk circled around to the misfortunes and tragedies of their past. And Adam was suddenly tired of it.

  “I’m really happy for Tom,” Adam asserted as he pulled the last two clean plates from the cabinet. “I mean, who could’ve guessed that he’d become our new bishop and that Lettie would pass on and that Nazareth Hooley would be waiting for him, ready to be his wife?” he asked in a rising voice. “Maybe God’s trying to tell us that if Tom can start a whole new life—”

  “Don’t let me stand in your way, Brother. You go, guy.”

  When Matthias set the skillet on a towel in the center of the table, Adam bit back his immediate reaction to their main course. Strips of partially blackened bacon stuck out of the soupy beans, with little pockets of grease forming around them.

  But what could he say? His brother had made supper and he had done the shopping . . . each of them filling in the blanks of their lives as best they could. They sat down across the table from each other and bowed their heads.

  Lord . . . Lord . . . help me to be more grateful for what I have. And help me to move beyond it.

  Chapter Four

  As Miriam took in the seventeen people gathered around her kitchen table, her heart filled to bursting. This being a Sunday when they didn’t have church, she’d invited all of Ben’s family and hers for a day of visiting, along with the Knepp girls. Even though it was snowing outside, laughter and sunshine filled her cheerful yellow kitchen, along with the aromas of the food everyone had brought to share.

  As Ben passed her the platter of ham loaf, he leaned toward her with a glimmer in his eyes. “Honey-girl, if you’d’ve told me last year at this time that I’d be sittin’ at this table amongst all our family and friends, I couldn’t have believed it,” he whispered. “And I thank ya, Miriam, for bringin’ me into this fine life.”

  Miriam tingled all over as Ben’s kiss teased at the rim of her ear. She set down the platter to grasp his hand. “No, Ben, it’s me who’s thankful,” she insisted. “Had ya not blown into my life during that storm—and then loved me, and then had this wonderful-gut home built for us—I couldn’t have so enjoyed every moment of these three weeks we’ve been married. You’re a gift from God, ya know it?”

  As always happened when they focused on each other, the chatter around them—the whole rest of the world—faded away and it was just the two of them, lost in love. While her first marriage to Jesse Lantz had been a good, solid relationship, this union with Ben Hooley was taking Miriam beyond anything she’d ever anticipated, bringing her affection and tender devotion that made her as giddy as a girl again.

  “A gift from God, eh?” Ben teased. “I’ll remind ya of that, come the first squabble we have.”

  “Maybe we won’t have one.”

  Ben’s laughter rang out in the crowded room. “Oh, Miriam, one of these days I will do somethin’ that sets ya off. I’m not nearly as perfect as you’re settin’ me up to be.”

  “Truer words were never spoken!” Ben’s aunt Jerusalem crowed from farther down the table. “I could tell plenty of tales about how our Bennie tried my patience—and tormented his brothers and sisters whilst they were growin’ up.”

  “But that was my job, as the firstborn,” Ben protested as he gestured toward Ira and Luke. “And look at these fellas now, gearin’ up to open their new gristmill on their own parcel of land. Where would they be without my wise counsel and guidance?”

  “Runnin’ the roads of Lancaster County, doin’ as we please,” Ira piped up.

  Miriam laughed. At twenty-eight, Ira was still unmarried and full of himself, but he had a talent for coaxing the locals to raise the trendy grains, cage-free chickens, and eggs that city dwellers demanded these days. “When do ya figure to open for business?” she asked. �
��Lots of folks in the café have been askin’ how you’ll get through the winter and the summer before your first harvest is brought in.”

  Luke raised a serving spoon, indicating that she’d made a good point. Then he scooped up a huge second serving of Jerusalem’s macaroni and goat cheese. “We’ve received a big shipment of grains and dried corn from back East,” he replied, “and once we get them ground and bagged, we’ll be runnin’ ads. I figure, come warmer weather, folks hereabouts will be ready to discover us—and we’ll be ready for them.”

  Rebecca, who was seated beside Miriam, joined in. “When you’ve got those grains bagged, Luke, I’ll post photos of them on your website,” she said. Then her face brightened. “And speaking of websites, I can’t wait to finish Andy’s! After his clinic on wheels arrives, I’ll post a picture of it, alongside a listing of the house call services he’ll offer.”

  “Oh, but I’m ready for that!” Rachel declared as her hand fluttered to her abdomen. “Havin’ this first baby won’t be nearly so scary, now that we’ve got a nurse in Willow Ridge.”

  Miriam smiled at her newlywed daughter, seated across the table beside her burly blond husband, Micah Brenneman. “You’re doin’ just fine, honey-bug. A little mornin’ sickness is part of the package, and you’ll soon be past it.” She leaned forward to look down the table then, to where Andy Leitner sat with his two kids, Taylor and Brett—with her daughter Rhoda smack in the middle of them. “Your new wagon’s arrivin’ soon, then?” she asked. “From the looks of things, your clinic building’s comin’ along, as well.”

  Andy nodded, clearly excited about the skills and the new facilities he would bring to their little town. “The carriage maker in Cedar Creek is so excited about making his first rolling medical center, he bumped me up on his schedule,” Andy replied. “But the best news? I think I’ve sold my house in New Haven!”

  Exclamations and applause filled the kitchen, and once again Miriam’s heart fluttered. Such a kind, warmhearted man, Andy Leitner was, with enough determination—and love for her daughter Rhoda—that he was letting go of his English life and possessions to become Amish. Lord, once again I thank Ya that all things are workin’ to the good of those who love Ya . . . that my Rhoda has found a wonderful man and that my Rebecca’s computer trainin’ is helpin’ so many of us Plain folks attract the English customers who’ll help us prosper.