ABOUT WINTER OF WISHES
Snow is falling, cookies are baking, and Christmas is just around the
corner in Willow Ridge, Missouri, where a new season marks fresh
beginnings for the residents of this tranquil Amish town . . . As another year draws to a close in Willow Ridge, life seems to be
changing for everyone but Rhoda Lantz. Her widowed mother is about to
remarry, her twin sister is a busy newlywed, and soon Rhoda will be
alone in her cozy apartment above the blacksmith’s shop. An ad posted by
an Englischer looking for someone to help with his mother and children
may offer just the companionship she’s looking for, but if she falls for
the caring single father, she may risk being shunned by her community. Certain she can only wish for things she cannot have, Rhoda must
remember that all things are possible with God, and nothing is stronger
than the power of love.
As
Rhoda Lantz stood gazing out the window of the Sweet Seasons Bakery Café, her
mood matched the ominous gray clouds that shrouded the dark, pre-dawn sky. Here
it was the day after Thanksgiving and she felt anything but thankful. Oh, she’d
eaten Mamma’s wonderful dinner yesterday and smiled at all the right times
during the gathering of family and friends around their extended kitchen table,
but she’d been going through the motions. Feeling distanced . . . not liking it,
but not knowing what to do about it, either.
“You
all right, honey-bug? Ya seem a million miles away.”
Rhoda
jumped. Mamma had slipped up behind her while she’d been lost in her thoughts.
“Jah,
jah. Fine
and dandy,” she fibbed. “Just thinkin’ how it looks like we’re in for a winter
storm, which most likely means we won’t have as many folks come to eat today and
tomorrow. It’s just . . . well, things got really slow last year at this
time.”
Her
mother’s concerned gaze told Rhoda her little white lie hadn’t sounded very
convincing. Mamma glanced toward the kitchen, where her partner, Naomi
Brenneman, and Naomi’s daughter, Hannah, were frying sausage and bacon for the
day’s breakfast buffet. “Tell ya what,” she said gently. “Lydia Zook left a
phone message about a couple of fresh turkeys still bein’ in their meat case.
Why not go to the market and fetch those, along with a case of eggs—and I’m
thinkin’ it’s a perfect day for that wonderful-gut cream
soup we make with the potatoes and carrots and cheese in the sauce. I’ll call in
the order, and by the time ya get over there they’ll have everything all
gathered up.”
“Jah,
Mamma, I can do that,” Rhoda murmured. It meant walking down the long lane with
the wind whipping at her coat, and then hitching up a carriage, but it was
something useful to do.
Useful.
Why is it such a struggle lately to feel useful? I wish I knew what to do with
my life.
Rhoda
slipped her coat from the peg at the door, tied on her heavy black bonnet, and
stepped outside with a gasp. The temperature had dropped several degrees since
she’d come to the café an hour ago. The chill bit through her woolen stockings
as she walked briskly along the gravel lane with her head lowered against the
wind.
“Hey
there, Rhoda! Gut mornin’
to ya!” a voice sang out as she passed the smithy behind the Sweet
Seasons.
Rhoda
waved to Ben Hooley but didn’t stop to chat. Why did the farrier’s cheerfulness
irritate her lately? She had gotten over her schoolgirl crush on him and was
happy for Ben and Mamma both, but as their New Year’s Day wedding approached
they seemed more public about their affections—their joy—and
well, that irritated her, too! Across the road from the Sweet Seasons a new home
was going up in record time, as Ben’s gift to her mother . . . yet another
reminder of how Rhoda’s life would change when Mamma moved out of the apartment
above the blacksmith shop, and she would be living there
alone.
As
she reached the white house she’d grown up in, Rhoda sighed. No lights glowed in
the kitchen window and no one ate breakfast at the table: this holiday weekend,
her twin sister Rachel and her new groom, Micah Brenneman, were on an extended
trip around central Missouri to collect wedding presents as they visited aunts,
uncles, and cousins of their two families. Rhoda missed working alongside Rachel
at the café more than she could bear to admit, yet here again, she was happy for
her sister. The newlyweds radiated a love and sense of satisfaction she could
only dream of.
Rhoda
hitched up the enclosed carriage and clapped the reins across Sadie’s broad
back. If Thanksgiving had been so difficult yesterday, with so many signposts of
the radical changes in all their lives, what would the upcoming Christmas season
be like? Ordinarily she loved baking cookies, setting out the Nativity scene,
and arranging evergreen branches and candles on the mantle and at the
windowsills. Yet as thick, feathery flakes of snow blew across the yard, her
heart thudded dully. It wasn’t her way to feel so blue, or to feel life was
passing her by. But at twenty-one, she heard her clock ticking ever so
loudly.
God,
have Ya stopped listenin’ to my prayers for a husband and a family? Are Ya
tellin’ me I’m fated to remain a maidel?
Rhoda
winced at the thought. She gave the mare its head once they were on the county
blacktop, and as they rolled across the single-lane bridge that spanned this
narrow spot in the Missouri River, she glanced over toward the new gristmill.
The huge wooden wheel was in place now, churning slowly as the current of the
water propelled it. The first light of dawn revealed two male figures on the
roof. Luke and Ira Hooley, Ben’s younger brothers, scrambled like monkeys as
they checked their new machinery. The Mill at Willow Ridge would soon be open to
tourists. In addition to regular wheat flour and cornmeal, the Hooley brothers
would offer specialty grains that would sell to whole foods stores in
Warrensburg and other nearby cities. Mamma was already gathering recipes to bake
artisan breads at the Sweet Seasons, as an additional lure for healthy-conscious
tourists.
But
Rhoda’s one brief date with Ira had proven he was more interested in running the
roads with Annie Mae Knepp than in settling down or joining the church any time
soon. Ira and Luke were nearly thirty, seemingly happy to live in a state of
eternal rumspringa. Rhoda
considered herself as fun-loving as any young woman, but she’d long ago
committed herself to the Amish faith. Was it too much to ask the same sort of
maturity of the men she dated?
She
pulled up alongside Zook’s Market. This grocery and dry goods store wouldn’t
open for a couple of hours yet, but already Henry and Lydia Zook were preparing
for their day. Rhoda put a determined smile on her face as the bell above the
door jangled. “Happy day after Thanksgivin’ to ya!” she called out.
“Mamm says
you’ve got a couple turkeys for us today.”
“Jah,
Rhoda, we’re packin’ your boxes right this minute, too!” Lydia called out from
behind the back counter. “Levi! Cyrus! You can be carryin’ those big bags of
potatoes and carrots out to Rhoda’s rig, please and thank
ya.”
From
an aisle of the store, still shadowy in the low glow of the gas ceiling lights,
two of the younger Zook boys stepped away from the shelves they had been
restocking. “Hey there, Rhoda,” ten-year-old Levi
mumbled.
“Tell
your mamm we
could use more of those fine blackberry pies,” his younger brother Cyrus
remarked as he hefted a fifty-pound bag of potatoes over his shoulder. “That’s
my favorite, and they always sell out. Mamm won’t let us buy a pie unless
they’re a day old—and most of ‘em don’t stay on the shelf that
long.”
Rhoda
smiled wryly. Cyrus Zook wasn’t the only fellow around Willow Ridge with a keen
interest in her mother’s pies. “I’ll pass that along. Denki to
you boys for loadin’ the carriage.”
“Levi’s
fetchin’ your turkeys from the fridge,” their dat Henry
said from behind his meat counter. “Won’t be but a minute. Say—it sounds like ya
had half of Willow Ridge over to your place for dinner
yesterday.”
Again
Rhoda smiled to herself: word got around fast in a small town. “Jah,
what with Ben and his two brothers and two aunts—and the fact that those aunts
invited Tom Hostetler and Hiram and his whole tribe to join us—we had quite a
houseful.”
“Awful
nice of ya to look after Preacher Tom and the bishop’s bunch,” Lydia said with
an approving nod. “Fellows without wives don’t always get to celebrate with a
real Thanksgiving dinner when their married kids live at a
distance.”
“Well,
there was no telling Jerusalem and Nazareth Hooley they couldn’t invite
Tom and the Knepps,” Rhoda replied with a chuckle. “So there ya have it. They
brought half the meal, though, so that wasn’t so bad.”
“Tell
your mamm we
said hullo.” Henry turned back toward the big grinder on the back table, where
he was making fresh hamburger.
“Jah,
I’ll do that. And denki for
havin’ things all set to go.”
Jonah
Zook stood behind his dat’s
counter trimming roasts. Rhoda met his eye and nodded, but didn’t try to make
small talk. Jonah was a couple years younger than she, and had driven her home
from a few Sunday night singings, but he had about as much sparkle as a crushed
cardboard box. And goodness, but she could use some sparkle about
now . . .
Rhoda
glanced out the store’s front window. Levi and Cyrus were taking their sweet
time about loading her groceries, so she wandered over to the bulletin board
where folks posted notices of upcoming auctions and other announcements. No
sense in standing out in that wind while the boys joshed
around.
The
old corkboard was pitted from years of use, and except for the sale bills for
upcoming household auctions in New Haven and Morning Star, the yellowed notices
for herbal remedies, fresh eggs, and local fellows’ businesses had hung there
for months. Rhoda sighed—and then caught sight of a note half-hidden by an
auction flyer.
Need
a compassionate, patient caretaker for my elderly mother, plus after-school
supervision for two kids. New Haven, just a block off the county highway. Call
Andy Leitner.
Rhoda
snatched the little notice from the board, her heart thumping. She knew nothing
about this fellow except his phone number and that he had an ailing mother and
two young children—and that he was surely English if he was advertising for help
with family members. Yet something about his decisive block printing told her
Mr. Leitner was a man who didn’t waffle over decisions or accept a half-hearted
effort from anyone who would work for him. He apparently had no
wife—
Maybe
she works away from home. Happens a lot amongst English
families.
—and
if he had posted this advertisement in Zook’s Market, he surely realized a Plain
woman would be most likely to respond. It was common for Amish and Mennonite
gals to hire on for housework and caretaking in English homes, so if she gave
him a call she could start working there, why—as soon as
tomorrow!
How
many of these notices has he posted? Plenty of Plain bulk stores to advertise in
around Morning Star, plus the big discount stores out past New
Haven. And
if he had run ads in the local papers, maybe he’d already had dozens of gals
apply for this job. But what could it hurt to find out?
Pulse
pounding, Rhoda stepped outside. “You fellas got all my stuff loaded, jah?”
she demanded. Levi and Cyrus were playing a rousing game of catch with a huge
hard-packed snowball, paying no heed to the snow that was falling on their green
shirt sleeves.
Levi,
the ornerier of the two, poked his head around the back of the buggy. “Got a
train to catch, do ya? Busy day chasin’ after that Ira Hooley fella?” he teased.
“Jonah, he says ya been tryin’ to catch yourself some of that Lancaster County
money—”
“And
what if I have?” Rhoda shot back. “Your mamm won’t
like it when I tell her you two have been lolligaggin’ out here instead of
stockin’ your shelves, ain’t so?”
Levi
waited until she was stepping into the carriage before firing the snowball at
her backside. But what would she accomplish by stepping out to confront him?
Rhoda glanced at the two huge turkeys, the mesh sacks of potatoes, carrots, and
onions, and the sturdy boxes loaded with other staples Mamma had ordered, and
decided she was ready to go. “Back, Sadie,” she said in a low
voice.
The
mare whickered and obeyed immediately. Rhoda chuckled at the two boys’ outcry as
she playfully backed the buggy toward them. Then she urged Sadie into a trot.
All sorts of questions buzzed in her mind as she headed for the Sweet Seasons.
What would Mamma say if she called Andy Leitner? What if a mild winter meant the
breakfast and lunch shifts would remain busy, especially with Rachel off
collecting wedding presents for a few more weekends? Hannah Brenneman had only
been helping them since her sixteenth birthday last week—
Jah,
but she got her wish, to work in the café. And Rachel got her wish when she
married Micah. And Mamma got more than she dared to wish for when Ben Hooley
asked to marry her! So it’s about time for me to have a wish come
true!
Was
that prideful, self-centered thinking? As Rhoda pulled up at the café, she
didn’t much worry about the complications of religion or the Old Ways. She
stepped into the dining room, spotted her cousins, Nate and Bram Kanagy, and
caught them before they went back to the buffet for another round of biscuits
and gravy. “Could I get you boys to carry in a couple of turkeys and some big
bags of produce?” she asked sweetly. Then she nodded toward the kitchen, where
Hannah was drizzling white icing on a fresh pan of Mamma’s sticky buns. “Ya
might talk our new cook out of a mighty gut cinnamon
roll, if ya smile at her real nice.”
Nate
rolled his eyes, but Bram’s handsome face lit up. “Jah, I
noticed how the scenery in the kitchen had improved, cuz—not that it isn’t a
treat to watch you and Rachel workin’,” he added quickly.
“Jah,
sure, ya say that after you’ve already stepped in it.” Rhoda widened her eyes at
him playfully. “Here’s your chance to earn your breakfast—not to mention make a
few points with Hannah.”
Rhoda
went back outside to grab one of the lighter boxes. Then, once Nate had followed
her in with bags of onions and carrots, and he was chatting with Hannah and
Mamma, she slipped out to the phone shanty before she lost her nerve. Common
sense told her she should think out some answers to whatever questions Andy
Leitner might ask, yet excitement overruled her usual practicality. Chances were
good that she’d have to leave him a voice mail, anyway, so as her fingers danced
over the phone number, her thoughts raced. Never in her life had she considered
working in another family’s home, yet this seemed like the opportunity she’d
been hoping for—praying for—of late. Surely Mamma would understand
if—
“Hello?”
a male voice came over the phone. He sounded a little
groggy.
Rhoda
gripped the receiver. It hadn’t occurred to her that while she’d already worked
a couple of hours at the café, most of the world wasn’t out of bed yet. “I—sorry
I called so early, but—”
“Not
a problem. Glad for the wake-up call, because it seems I fell back asleep,” he
replied with a soft groan. “How can I help you?”
Rhoda’s
imagination ran wild. If this was Andy Leitner, he had a deep, mellow voice.
Even though she’d awakened him and he was running late, he spoke pleasantly. “I,
um, found the notice from an Andy Leitner on the board in Zook’s Market just
now, and—” She closed her eyes, wondering where the words had disappeared to.
She had to sound businesslike, or at least competent, or this man wouldn’t want
to talk to her.
“You’re
interested in the position?” he asked with a hopeful upturn in his voice. “I was
wondering if the store owners had taken my note down.”
Rhoda’s
heart raced. “Jah,
I’d like to talk to you about it, for sure and for certain,” she gushed. “But ya
should understand right out that I don’t have a car, on account of how we Amish
don’t believe in ownin’—I mean, I’m not preachin’ at ya,
or—”
She
winced. “This is comin’ out all wrong. Sorry,” she rasped. “My name’s Rhoda
Lantz, and I’m in Willow Ridge. I sure hope you don’t think I’m
tooferhoodled to
even be considered for the job.”
“Ferhoodled?”
The word rolled melodiously from the receiver and teased at
her.
“Crazy
mixed-up,” she explained. “Confused, and—well, I’m keepin’ ya from whatever ya
need to be doin’, so—”
“Ah,
but you’re a solution to my problem. The answer to a prayer,” he added quietly.
“For that, I have time to listen, Rhoda. I need to make my shift at the
hospital, but could I come by and chat with you when I get off? Say, around two
this afternoon?”
Rhoda
grinned. “That would be wonderful-gut,
Mr. Leitner! We’ll be closin’ up at two—my mamm runs
the Sweet Seasons Bakery Café on the county blacktop. We can talk at a back
table.”
“Perfect.
I’ll see you then—and thanks so much for calling, Rhoda.”
“Jah,
for sure and for certain!”
As
she placed the receiver back in its cradle, Rhoda held her breath. What would
she tell Mamma? She felt scared and excited and yes, ferhoodled,
because she now had an interview for a job! She had no idea about caring for
that elderly mother . . . or what if the kids ran her so ragged she got nothing
done except keeping them out of trouble? What if Andy Leitner’s family didn’t
like her because she wore Plain clothing and kapps?
What
have ya gone and done, Rhoda Lantz?
She
inhaled to settle herself, and headed back to the café’s kitchen. There was no
going back, no unsaying what she’d said over the phone. No matter what anyone
else thought, she could only move forward.
And
wasn’t that exactly what she’d been hoping to do for weeks
now?
About the Author:
I’ve
called Missouri home for most of my life, and most folks don’t realize
that several Old Older Amish and Mennonite communities make their home
here, as well. The rolling pastureland, woods, and small towns along
county highways make a wonderful setting for Plain populations—and for
stories about them, too! While Jamesport, Missouri is the largest Old
Order Amish settlement west of the Mississippi River, other communities
have also found the affordable farm land ideal for raising crops,
livestock, and running the small family-owned businesses that support
their families.
Like my heroine, Miriam Lantz, of my Seasons of the Heart series, I
love to feed people—to share my hearth and home. I bake bread and
goodies and I love to try new recipes. I put up jars and jars of green
beans, tomatoes, beets and other veggies every summer. All my adult
life, I’ve been a deacon, a dedicated church musician and choir member,
and we hosted a potluck group in our home for more than twenty years.
Like Abby Lambright, heroine of my Home at Cedar Creek series, I
consider it a personal mission to be a listener and a peacemaker—to heal
broken hearts and wounded souls. Faith and family, farming and
frugality matter to me: like Abby, I sew and enjoy fabric arts—I made my
wedding dress and the one Mom wore, too, when I married into an Iowa
farm family more than thirty-five years ago! When I’m not writing, I
crochet and sew, and I love to travel.
I recently moved to Minnesota when my husband got a wonderful new
job, so now he and I and our border collie, Ramona, are exploring our
new state and making new friends.
You can visit her website at www.CharlotteHubbard.com
Disclosure: All info in the above post was provided by the author through Pump Up Your Book tours. Regardless ~ All my reviews are my honest and personal opinion. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255: “Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising.”.
