They had barely removed their coats in the Knepps’ kitchen, however, before Annie
Mae’s gaze told Rhoda the bishop’s daughter
knew
. And she wanted to hear a whole lot more. Nellie Knepp and Nazareth Hooley poured
steaming tea into their cups before the seven of them headed toward the front room
with their bags of bright-colored yarn.
“So if we’re startin’ a new afghan tonight, who shall we give it to?” Nellie asked
as they all settled into chairs and sofas. “Ben got the first one—”
“And he’s usin’ it on his bed in the mill apartment, too,” Mamma remarked as she pulled
a half-used skein of magenta yarn from her bag.
“Hiram’s got our second afghan folded over the rockin’ chair in his office,” Jerusalem
chimed in. Her fingers flew around the center clusters of a new granny square. “Saw
him with it wrapped around his shoulders yesterday, when I wasn’t supposed to know
he was nappin’.”
As they all laughed, Rhoda caught Annie Mae looking purposefully at her and then toward
the kitchen door.
“Am I the only one who noticed a drafty spot in Preacher Tom’s front room when we
had services there?” Nazareth took a long sip of her tea. “Seems to me any fella on
his own would enjoy something cuddly to curl up in. And he does so much for us, being
our preacher.” Her girlish smile gave away her feelings for Tom—but Rhoda was more
aware of their hostess holding her gaze.
“Silly me, I forgot about that tray of cookies Nellie and Jerusalem made,” Annie Mae
said as she rose from her chair. “Believe me, there’d be none of them left if we hadn’t
hidden them away from the twins.”
“And where are the kids tonight?” Rachel asked as she started a row of deep green
around the fuchsia center she’d crocheted.
“Dat took the four of them out in the sleigh,” Nellie said with a big grin. “I told
him to go clear on over to Morning Star and all that fresh night air would surely
put the little ones to sleep before they got back!”
As more laughter filled the front room, Rhoda got up to help Annie Mae. She and the
bishop’s eldest daughter had become better friends of late, so it might be best to
humor her now . . . and find out how much she knew about last night. When Rhoda entered
the kitchen, Annie Mae was beckoning her into the pantry. As the door swung shut behind
them, Rhoda wasn’t so sure this was a good idea.
“So is it true, what Millie told me?” Annie Mae whispered. “Did ya really kiss that
English fella in his car? Was he any
gut
at it?”
Rhoda’s cheeks burned in the darkness. “Ya can’t be lettin’ on to folks about—”
“Dat says he’s divorced—”
The bottom dropped from Rhoda’s stomach. “And why’d ya go tellin’ your
dat
about—just because Millie thought we were kissin’ doesn’t make it true, ya know!”
Annie Mae’s hands found her shoulders in the darkness. She laughed softly. “Lord a-mercy,
no
, I wouldn’t tell my
dat
, ya silly goose,” she replied. “I’m just amazed that
you
would be doin’ such things, when it’s
me
everybody’s been shakin’ their heads over, for runnin’ with Yonnie Stoltzfus and
now datin’ a fella Luke’s age.”
“
Jah
, but you’re still in your
rumspringa
—”
The pantry door swung open and bumped Rhoda’s shoulder, which made her and Annie Mae
jump toward the back shelves. But there was no escaping the stalwart figure silhouetted
in the doorway: Jerusalem Hooley gazed at them pointedly. “Thought maybe ya hid those
cookies so well ya couldn’t find them,” she remarked dryly. Then she let the door
swing shut again.
Rhoda’s heart pounded painfully. How long had Jerusalem been listening outside the
pantry? There would be no escaping judgment if she’d overheard. The former schoolteacher
had been the one to insist Bishop Knepp confess and serve out his shunning for hiding
a car in the barn. When Annie Mae pulled the string of the battery light on the pantry
wall, to find the large platter of cookies she’d hidden in a blue enamel roaster,
Rhoda saw the dread sketched around her eyes.
“I promise ya, I won’t breathe a word,” the bishop’s daughter murmured.
Ya might not have to
, Rhoda thought desperately. But she didn’t have the heart to say that to Annie Mae.
Chapter Fourteen
Andy left the theater-style lecture hall Thursday afternoon feeling totally drained.
He had no idea how he had performed on his written phlebotomy exam, but going home
sounded a lot more fulfilling than locating good veins or drawing blood. When he pulled
his cell phone from his pocket, however, a text message awaited him.
“Phooey,” he muttered as he reread the words from Dr. LaFarge, his hospital supervisor.
He’d so hoped to spend Rhoda’s final afternoon in his employ immersed in whatever
magic their Amish caretaker might be working, but once again duty called. On his way
to his car, he phoned home.
“Hello?” Brett answered breathlessly.
“Hey, buddy, what’s going on?”
“Dad! We’re decoratin’ Christmas cookies we made with Rhoda—”
Oh, but Andy could taste a sugar cookie . . . lots of creamy frosting and sprinkles
that crunched slightly between his teeth. Rhoda probably baked them soft and chewy,
the way he liked them.
“—and when you get home, she says she’s got a present for us! So you’ve gotta get
here,” his son gushed.
Andy closed his eyes. “Yeah, well—eat a star cookie for me, and put Rhoda on, will
you?” he replied. “I’ll see you as soon as I can.”
Brett sighed. He’d heard it before, about how the hospital had called his father to
work an unexpected shift. “Sure, Dad. Just a minute.”
During the pause, Andy swore he could smell cookies baking . . . heard Taylor and
his mother laughing in the background . . .
“
Jah?
Andy? How’d your big test go?” Rhoda asked.
Her voice—her interest in his activities—made him smile in spite of the reason he’d
called. “I’m so brain-dead I’m not sure,” he replied with a rueful chuckle. “And I’ve
just gotten called in to cover a shift in the oncology ward.”
“Ah. What’s that?”
“Um, cancer care. Not a happy job, but necessary. So, as much as I’d hoped to spend
the afternoon with you and the kids,” he continued, “it might be late again. I’m really
sorry, Rhoda.”
“Well, ya gotta do what ya gotta do. I’ll keep ya a bowl of our chili for when ya
get home.”
Andy closed his eyes against a wave of yearning. “Thank you so much. Everything going
okay?”
“Oh,
jah
. Your
mamm
’s wearin’ one of her new aprons and dresses, and the kitchen counter’s covered with
perty cookies,” she replied breezily. Then she sighed. “But we’ll miss ya, Andy.”
Impulse urged him to call his supervisor and claim an emergency at home . . . but
Dr. LaFarge had chosen him over four other candidates for a position on the hospital’s
obstetrics staff, if his final exam scores were high enough. “I’m really disappointed,
Rhoda,” he murmured. “And I’m sorry this means you’ll be getting home a lot later
than we’d figured.”
“
Jah
, well, sometimes there’s nothing for that but to go with the flow, ain’t so?”
Andy grimaced. Because Rhoda had gone with his flow, she’d also gone against the tenets
of her faith. Yet she sounded okay. Not intimidated by whatever her bishop might require
of her, and not sorry she’d come today to care for his mom and kids. “Have you told
Brett and Taylor you won’t be back?” he whispered.
Silence. “We’re havin’ us a real
gut
time this afternoon. Makin’ a fine mess of the kitchen table, too,” she answered,
sounding a little too cheerful.
“Gotcha. They’re right there in the kitchen, listening.”
“For sure and for certain. Ya want to talk to them?”
Rhoda had certainly passed that off without missing a beat. “Tell them they’re not
to give you any flack about getting to bed on time,” he instructed. “As I recall,
Brett’s got a math test tomorrow, and Taylor’s presenting a PowerPoint report on insects.”
“They’re both ready for school,” Rhoda assured him. “But I can’t tell ya a thing about
how your daughter got pictures of so many bugs on the computer, along with words and
music, no less!”
It touched him, how the technology he and his kids took for granted was totally foreign
to Rhoda. Once again, he saw advantages to living more simply . . . to being more
tuned in to people than to computers. Andy could imagine Rhoda quizzing Brett about
his math, with paper and pencil—or challenging him to work the addition and subtraction
problems completely in his head. He could envision the wonderment on her face as Taylor
played the PowerPoint presentation and explained what she had been studying these
past few weeks.
He envied Rhoda the time she had spent with his children today. Somehow, her priorities
seemed more in line than his, even though he’d been finishing his degree so he could
support his family.
“Thank you again, Rhoda,” he murmured. “I’ll be home as soon as I can. But it’ll be
nine or ten at the earliest.”
“We’ll be here waitin’ for ya.”
As the phone clicked in his ear, Andy blinked rapidly. It made no practical sense,
yet having Rhoda waiting for him at the end of a day, in a tidy home that smelled
like chili and homemade Christmas cookies, seemed like a dream come true.
But it was an impossible dream, wasn’t it?
Rhoda watched, her heart in her throat, as Taylor and Brett tore into the packages
she had wrapped for them. They had plugged in the lights of their decorated tree,
and had turned on the two lighted Santa Claus figures that sat on the coffee table.
Betty sat on the couch with her small gift in her lap, watching her grandchildren.
“It’s a baby Jesus—wrapped in a quilt!” Taylor exclaimed as she held the little carving
up for everyone to see.
“And I got two sheep,” her brother crowed as he grabbed another little bundle from
his box.
“Mary and Joseph, too, but they’re Amish people!” the little girl went on as she unwrapped
her next little bundle. “Oh, Rhoda, these are so cool. Is this what everybody looks
like, where you live?”
Rhoda laughed. “Well, the men have beards and wear those black hats—”
“But they’ve got no faces.” Brett yanked the rest of the green tissue paper from the
trio of male figures and studied them. “So, if these are the three wise men, how come
they’re holdin’ an ear of corn, and a chicken, and a bucket of white stuff?”
“That’s milk, on account of how the fella who carved this set is a dairy farmer. Makes
the best ice cream ya ever tasted, too,” Rhoda remarked. “These wise men are bringin’
their homegrown gifts to the baby Jesus as their best offering to him. We Amish don’t
put faces on our dolls, as we don’t want to make figures of people in God’s image.
That’s God’s doin’.”
“Ha! And here’s the cow,” Taylor announced.
“And I got a shepherd holdin’ a lamb,” Brett chimed in.
“But I . . . got the best pieces.” Betty, who had succumbed to the children’s eagerness,
held up her parts of the Nativity set. “The manger . . . with an Amish angel on the
roof, and . . . a star made like a quilt piece.”
“We gotta set this up on the table!” Brett declared. “I want to look at it and move
the pieces around.”
Rhoda’s heart swelled. It pleased her that Andy’s kids knew the basics of the Christmas
scene she’d given them, and that they were so excited about receiving Tom Hostetler’s
work. It pleased her, as well, that the two Santa figures got put over beside the
Christmas tree so the Nativity set could occupy the table. When the kids had carefully
placed the manger in the center, they began to arrange the people and the animals—and
then repositioned them as they mentioned the parts of the Christmas story each figure
played.
Rhoda moved up to the couch to sit beside Betty, partly because she wanted to memorize
the precious expressions on Brett’s and Taylor’s young faces as they enjoyed the gift
she’d chosen for them.
“Such a . . . wonderful present, Rhoda,” Betty murmured. She smoothed the front of
her white apron. “And so . . . nice that you came early today . . . to sew my aprons
and that polka-dot dress for Taylor.”
Rhoda swallowed a lump in her throat. Andy’s mother was so grateful for every little
thing. She seemed perkier day by day, too, as though she was overcoming the limitations
her stroke had imposed on her body. It seemed only fair to let Betty know that she’d
wanted to finish her aprons because she wouldn’t be coming back . . . but the words
just wouldn’t come out. She couldn’t bear to upset her.
And she hated to spoil the fun Taylor and Brett were having, studying the details
Tom had painted on each of his Nativity figures. If she said she couldn’t work here
anymore, the kids would ask endless questions that would shine a dubious light on
her and their
dat
, even though Rhoda felt, deep down, that the kisses she and Andy had shared were
a sincere expression of their feelings. While it wasn’t fair to leave all the explaining
to Andy . . . maybe it was best.
As usual, Rhoda insisted the kids redd up the room and set their backpacks by the
door before they went to bed. And as usual Brett groused a bit, but they picked up
the torn paper from their gifts and straightened the area around their computer. Not
wanting to do anything differently, Rhoda followed them upstairs, secretly savoring
their bedtime rituals . . . watching Brett make faces in the bathroom mirror as he
brushed his teeth . . . noting how Taylor shifted her stuffed animals as she pulled
her comforter down, so she could sleep with them all cuddled around her. When the
kids had chosen their clothes for Friday, she wished them good night.
“Say your prayers, don’t forget,” she reminded them. “And before I go to bed tonight,
you’ll be in my prayers, too.”
Taylor gave her a quick hug, looking wistful. “It’s nice to think somebody like you
talks to God about us, Rhoda. I don’t remember anybody ever saying that before.”
Oh, but her heart clenched as she squeezed Taylor’s slender shoulders and nuzzled
her soft curls. When she passed by Brett’s bedroom door, his lights were already out
and he was settling himself beneath his covers. How she wanted to kiss him good night,
but that would probably start a flood of tears and questions. So she went back downstairs.
Betty was shuffling along the hallway toward her room. She grinned around the frosted
cookie she had stuck in her mouth, wiggling her fingers to reveal another cookie in
each hand.
“
Gut
night, Betty. Sleep well,” Rhoda murmured.
The house settled around her. The wind tapped a branch against the front window, and
then, when the furnace shut off, the stillness was complete. Though Rhoda wasn’t accustomed
to having a Christmas tree in her home, the little white lights on this one soothed
her. She turned out the table lamps and stood at the tree, noting ornaments the kids
had made, and mementos of their earliest Christmases and places they had visited.
Did they miss their mother? She recalled how hollow the holidays had felt that first
year after Dat had passed. She wished Brett and Taylor could know a home filled with
love and happiness, the way she did.
Watch over them, Lord. Help them understand why I had to leave
—
and that I didn’t want to.
Was it too soon for having such thoughts? Had she thrown herself into this job, this
family, because her loneliness had driven her here—or because the Leitners needed
her? Did she truly feel at home among them after such a short time? If she allowed
such feelings to take hold of her heart, would she be tempted to leave the Amish church
to become a part of this family? Rhoda didn’t want to think about Mamma’s disappointment
and sadness if that happened.
Headlights beamed through the lace curtains and Rhoda remained beside the tree, holding
her breath. When Andy opened the door he stood there watching her . . . holding her
gaze without breaking the silence. As he closed out the frosty breeze coming in around
him, he gazed around the front room, inhaling deeply.
“It smells
so
good in here,” he finally whispered.
“
Ach
, and here I stand while I could be warmin’ up your bowl of—”
“Rhoda.”
The way Andy said her name stilled her heart. His weary sigh echoed in her soul and
she longed to caress away the tension lines etched into his handsome face.
“Jah?”
“I won’t stand next to you, because that’ll lead us into temptation,” Andy said in
a low voice. “So I’ll eat my chili and take you home, but we must agree not to touch.
Not to . . . kiss again. Understand?”
She nodded, her lips pulsing as though he were kissing her anyway. “It’s best. There’d
be no explainin’ if one of the kids came downstairs.”
“And we’ll be able to honestly say—to your mother, or your preacher, or whoever—that
we backed away from a relationship that would only get you in trouble.”
“Jah.”
Not that Andy’s honorable intentions satisfied her need to know more about him .
. . to hear his voice and feel the warmth of his arm around her shoulders. Nor did
his emotional distance make her future shine any brighter. But there wasn’t much to
be done about that. He was behaving as he should, and she ought to be grateful for
his restraint.
As Andy ate his chili and marveled over the wonderful sugar cookies she and the kids
had made, Rhoda repeatedly swallowed the lump that rose in her throat. She busied
herself wiping crumbs from the countertop while he ate, so he wouldn’t see her blinking
back tears. She tried not to think about this being the last time she would cook in
this kitchen, for this family.
“I helped deliver my first baby today,” Andy remarked. He chose a star cookie frosted
in yellow, encrusted with jimmies.