Autumn Winds Read online

  Naomi’s eyes widened. “That would startle anybody, for sure and for certain.”

  As they walked slowly along the edge of the Brennemans’ cleared-off garden, the sight of the neatly tilled earth, glimmering with a hint of frost in the moonlight, gave a sense of order to Miriam’s chaotic thoughts.

  She stopped and took a deep breath to clear her head. “Am I goin’ crazy, Naomi? I thought I had myself all settled, where Jesse’s concerned. Thought Ben Hooley came along at just the right time, with just the right smile—”

  “Can’t argue with that. Ben’s smile could dazzle ya into doin’ just about anythin’.”

  “That’s what I’m sayin’! I’ve lost all sense of priorities, thinkin’ I could just sell off a piece of Jesse’s farm—and that after I already let Ben use Jesse’s shop and sleep upstairs in the new apartment!” Miriam turned to face her friend, imploring her to figure out the riddle of her recent behavior. “Is it any wonder Hiram’s warnin’ me to—”

  “Let’s leave the bishop out of this. It’s got nothin’ to do with what Hiram wants or thinks.” Naomi held Miriam’s gaze for a moment. “Seems to me that while you and Ben were at the café . . . and while ya were out amongst folks at the Zooks’ . . . and while ya were walkin’ along the river, the two of ya were gettin’ on as fine as pie. But once Ben seemed to be takin’ Jesse’s place—”

  “Jah, nobody’s sat in that chair since he passed.”

  “—somethin’ in your mind backfired.” Naomi gazed in the direction of the dark café and the smithy, where a lamp flickered in the upstairs window. “Seems like as long as Ben is with ya where Jesse never was—like in the café—you’re fine and dandy. But when he slipped into that one spot—into the house where ya were Jesse’s wife for all those years—”

  “I see what you’re sayin’.” Miriam let out another long sigh. “But if that’s the case, why could I stroll along the riverbank agreein’ with every suggestion Ben made? I don’t know this man from Adam, Naomi! Just met him last Saturday!”

  Naomi raised her eyebrows. “Did you and Jesse go for walks along the river?”

  Miriam blinked. “Truth be told, we didn’t walk anywhere except to your place when ya hosted preachin’ Sundays. Didn’t have . . . time for walks.”

  And why was that? Something pricked at her heart and Miriam began to cry again.

  Naomi wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Anybody would be upset, Miriam, seein’ her husband the way you did and hearin’ his voice. Especially when a new fella steps in—which was bound to happen sometime—and moves amongst the rooms you’d only shared with the man who built them for ya. Am I makin’ sense?”

  “Jah, jah, you are.” Miriam shook her head to clear it. “But what if Jesse was warnin’ me? What if he knows things about Ben Hooley, as he’s lookin’ down from heaven, and I haven’t asked all the questions I should?”

  Naomi’s eyebrows rose as she thought about this. “Was Ben tellin’ ya he wanted that land right away? Pushin’ ya to say yes, or—”

  “Ben’s been nothin’ but patient and considerate.” Miriam relaxed . . . felt the shock of that vision in the kitchen losing its grip on her. “But somethin’ warned me to put on the brakes before I did things I couldn’t undo.”

  “Nothin’ wrong with that. Think of how excited we were to be startin’ up the café and then one of us would hit an invisible wall, an obstacle we couldn’t see our way around,” Naomi recalled. “For me, it was believin’ Ezra wouldn’t allow me to work away from home—even though the Sweet Seasons mailbox is right beside ours.”

  “Jah, you were afraid he’d haul ya out of the kitchen the day we opened,” Miriam agreed fondly. “Yet after he stewed about it, sittin’ home alone while the boys kept the construction shop goin’, he got that job at the hospital. It gave him somethin’ to think about besides his disability, and it was an income for him.”

  “So it worked out the best for all of us.” Naomi smiled kindly. “It’s just plain ole fear you’re dealin’ with, Miriam. You’re scared, not knowin’ what’ll happen next—or what changes might come along without you agreein’ to them first.”

  Miriam nodded, pondering this. Ben Hooley had lots of new ideas, yet he’d never once forced any of them—or himself—on her.

  “I think it’s the permission idea that’s givin’ ya the most trouble, dearie. Even though you’ve been makin’ your own decisions since Jesse died, ya still want to know you’re not goin’ against everythin’ ya honored and believed in while ya were his wife.”

  She smiled, just a little. “Ya said a mouthful there, Naomi.”

  “Have ya ever known me to keep quiet?”

  Miriam thumbed away her tears. As she looked across Naomi’s dark garden to where the boys’ custom cabinet shop was . . . along the county road leading over to the café and quilt shop . . . up the lane to Jesse’s blacksmith shop and then up to their home, she realized that her world was still intact, despite her ominous vision of Jesse. Logic told her it was Ben sitting there in her kitchen that had triggered one last, poignant memory of the man who’d shared his name and his life with her for nearly twenty years.

  Would Jesse really have questioned her so harshly?

  Maybe. Jesse Lantz hadn’t minced words or spared anyone’s feelings. And while he’d fished many a time in that river, he’d never invited Miriam to join him. She’d had her girls to watch and her chores to do, after all.

  Ben Hooley was created from a different recipe altogether. Fresher. Spicier. He was a man who cooked things up on the spur of the moment, confident he could make them turn out right. And didn’t she concoct some of her best café meals that way?

  “I can’t thank ya enough, Naomi,” Miriam murmured. “Sorry I pulled ya away from your dinner.”

  Her partner laughed as they turned back toward their homes, now outlined in the moonlight. “I could stand to miss a meal or two. Truth be told, my gooseberry pie didn’t set up right and Ezra’s most likely complainin’ about what a gooey mess it is.”

  “There won’t be a speck of it left. I bet the four of them ate the whole thing, thinkin’ gooseberry wasn’t your favorite, anyway.”

  Naomi chortled. “There’s that, jah. I should thank them for takin’ away the temptation of eatin’ pie just because it’s there.” She rubbed the center of Miriam’s back as they reached the spot where they would part ways to go to their own homes. “Will ya be all right, Miriam?”

  “Jah. The girls’ll be back soon. And it’s not like Jesse was really in that kitchen chair, nor like I’ve had trouble bein’ alone in the house since he passed.” Miriam smiled. “I can reason it all out now, this situation with Ben. Thanks for seein’ things I missed, Naomi.”

  “Happy to help. See ya tomorrow, bright and early.”

  Chapter 13

  Miriam busied herself with baking biscuits, sticky buns, and several apple walnut coffee cakes before the rest of her crew arrived at the Sweet Seasons the next morning. It felt good to be surrounded by her kitchen equipment, in the hum of the refrigerators, after a night of not sleeping well.

  How could she explain to Ben what had happened at her kitchen table? After such a perfect evening with him, feeling so happy as they enjoyed their riverbank picnic, Miriam wondered if Ben would even talk to her. It must have seemed that another woman had taken over her soul, and certainly her mouth, in those moments when she had abruptly told him to leave.

  Naomi entered the kitchen, smiling brightly. “Feelin’ better this mornin’, Miriam?”

  “Jah, but I must’ve seemed like a mighty black cloud last night when I—”

  “You can cry on my shoulder any time ya need to, dearie.” Naomi gave her a quick hug and then took a package of bulk sausage from the fridge to make breakfast patties. “Ya did so well after Jesse passed—kept yourself so busy startin’ up this café—it’s only natural for memories to pop up when a new fella gives ya the eye, ain’t so?”

  Miriam got out the cast-iron sk
illets for bacon and Naomi’s sausage. “Is it? I was feelin’ so gut about sellin’ that section of land by the river—”

  “Did he give ya anythin’ besides the eye, Miriam?” Naomi’s brown eyes sparkled. She always knew just what questions to ask, didn’t she?

  Miriam glanced through the back window to be sure Rachel and Rhoda weren’t coming. “Oh, jahhhh . . . Ben kissed me a time or two, and we ate our picnic on—”

  “And how was it?”

  Miriam stopped laying strips of bacon in her skillet to meet her partner’s gaze. The answer to that question made her heart sing . . . just as those kisses had. “Truth be told, I felt like a girl gettin’ her very first kiss. It was . . . so fresh and sweet and—”

  “Better than Jesse?”

  Miriam blinked. She’d loved her husband dearly, and he’d provided well for her.

  “That part would be normal, too, I’d think. Not that I would know,” Naomi added quickly. “But after all these years with Ezra, we’re not the lovebirds we were as newlyweds. All those years and kids take their toll on that mushy stuff.”

  A grin spread across Miriam’s face. “The same was true with Jesse, especially after we lost Rebecca in the flood, and I lost the baby I was carryin’ and couldn’t have any more.”

  “So now it’s all new again, with a fella who seems to be a wonderful-gut worker and who can’t stop lookin’ at you as though he’d found himself a miracle. And the men all respect him, too.”

  Was it true, what Naomi said? Did Ben really gaze at her that way? Again Miriam glanced out the window. “Here come the girls. I’d just as soon they didn’t know how upset I was last night.”

  “They’ll have their share of heartache, and it’s your turn for some fun with a fella. You were a gut wife, Miriam,” Naomi insisted. “Faithful and lovin’ to Jesse until the day he died.”

  Miriam flushed and turned on the burner under the bacon. “Don’t remind Hiram of that, all right?”

  They laughed, and as her daughters set up the tables and the first fellows came in for their breakfast, Miriam found herself glancing toward the dining room . . . looking for that light brown hair and easy smile, hoping Ben would still have a smile for her.

  And there he came, with Naomi’s boys. Micah Brenneman and Seth, the oldest, were holding quite a conversation with Ben as they sat down at their usual table and waited for Rachel to pour water and take their orders. It seemed like a business proposition they were discussing—and then Ben looked up and his eyes met hers.

  Miriam held his gaze. Smiled shyly.

  He smiled back, thank goodness. Then he and Aaron Brenneman led the way to the steam table. Tom Hostetler and the Kanagy boys came in, as did Preacher Gabe and a few English fellows who farmed nearby.

  Miriam relaxed. It was a new day, and she was feeding people—surrounded by her friends and family—and for that she was grateful. Last night’s startling vision of Jesse had lost its power to make her second-guess all that had been going so right . . . so very sweetly with Ben Hooley.

  She started rolling out crust for the eight fruit pies Lydia Zook wanted for the market.

  “Hi, Mamma! Do you have a minute?” Her daughter Rebecca stood in the doorway between the kitchen and the tables out front. She went by Tiffany Oliveri, as that was the name she’d been given by the English couple who’d rescued and raised her, but there was no mistaking that she was Rachel and Rhoda’s identical sister.

  “Gut to see ya, Rebecca! And don’t ya look perty in that shade of turquoise!” Miriam said with a grin. “Come on in, honey-bug. My hands’re all floury from makin’ these pies, but I’ve got all the minutes ya want.”

  Rebecca grinned at Naomi and perched on a stool where Miriam worked. “So . . . how many pies are you making there?”

  “Well, the Zooks want to restock their supply for the store, and that’s usually eight at a time. And while I’m at it, I’ll make about that many to have for our lunch shift, too.”

  Her daughter’s jaw dropped. “Sixteen pies? At one time? That’s, um, fifteen more than I’ve made in my entire life.”

  Miriam saw that Rebecca was unfolding a square contraption that had a keyboard and a shiny screen, setting it up on the counter. “You’ve got other talents, for sure and for certain. And you’re about to show me one of them, aren’t ya?”

  “This is my laptop computer,” Rebecca explained as she tapped a few keys. Pictures came up on the screen then, and Miriam could only gawk at that sort of magic. “I’m taking a graphic design class at Missouri Western—”

  “And what would graphic design be?” Miriam asked. “I don’t know a thing about what ya do, honey-bug, but I’d like to know.”

  Rebecca smiled as though that remark pleased her. Her face—the exact expression Rhoda wore when she was intent on frying chicken just right—glowed with health and just a trace of makeup. What a huge improvement over the way she’d looked the first time she’d come to the Sweet Seasons last summer! “Graphic design is where you create signs and logos—like people use for their stores or their letterhead,” she explained. “Or these days, it’s mostly putting together websites and ads people will see on their computers.”

  Rebecca looked at her then, her blue eyes sparkling. “As a class project, I have to launch a website I’ve designed. I hope it’s okay if I set up a site for your bakery, Mamma.”

  Miriam blinked. The screen showed a pan of sticky buns and SWEET SEASONS BAKERY CAFÉ in bold, homey-looking lettering. “That’s us! That’s this place!”

  “It is!” Rebecca said with a chuckle. “I know you Amish ladies can’t design websites for your shops—”

  “Jah, there’s that,” Naomi remarked as she peered over Miriam’s shoulder.

  “—and I’d like to put a photograph of your café on here, and maybe scan in your menu,” she went on. “I know some of that stuff’s against your religion, so I don’t want to get you in trouble with that Hiram guy.”

  Miriam wiped the flour from her hands to wrap her arms around Rebecca’s shoulders. “Denki for thinkin’ of that, child of mine. As long as my picture’s not on there, and as long as I don’t own a computer, you can do whatever ya need to for your class.”

  Rebecca smiled. “It would be a great idea for you to advertise online, anyway. Plenty of people around central Missouri would love to come to Willow Ridge for your good food, and to see the other shops here. And you know what? A few other people here have already established an online presence.”

  Miriam’s lips curved. “We probably could use some advertisin’ in places besides the billboard on the county road,” she agreed. “Micah got his idea for the movin’ walls in the apartment from studyin’ a little movie on your computer, after all. He’s doin’ a right gut business installin’ those, too.”

  A movement at the pass-through window caught her eye: Ben Hooley was leaning on the counter, smiling at them. “Nearly all the places in Lancaster advertise online,” he remarked as he studied Rebecca. “Some of the Mennonites have started designin’ websites and such for the Amish folks. That’s the way English customers would rather shop now, too, and it’s how tourists know what places they want to visit when they’re on vacation.”

  Miriam smiled, thankful he’d come to say hello. “Ben, this is that washed-away daughter I was tellin’ ya about—my Rebecca, who goes by the name Tiffany Oliveri now. Her dat bought my buildin’ in August . . . so Hiram couldn’t. Rebecca, this is Ben Hooley.”

  Ben came into the kitchen, grinning as he looked her over. “Jah, you’re Rachel and Rhoda’s sister, all right. And your mamm’s still mighty excited that ya came back to find her.” He studied the computer screen then. “Now ya know, Miriam, she can make that Sweet Seasons lettering any color ya want, or change things all around on the page. But I think it looks right nice the way it is.”

  “Jah, it’s fine with me. And if it brings more English business once winter slows things down—oh my. Would ya looky here.”

  The scree
n had changed. The wording at the top now said BISHOP’S RIDGE BELGIANS and showed photographs of two stallions, Goliath and Saul. There was also a list of awards and the details about the lineage of the two registered champions who were standing at stud.

  “I put shoes on those fellas yesterday,” Ben remarked in a low voice. “That’s an impressive place the bishop’s runnin’.”

  “Yeah,” Rebecca murmured, “but here’s what I thought was even more interesting.” She made the screen move up a few inches.

  “Why, that’s Hiram!” Miriam exclaimed. Then she clapped her hand over her mouth.

  “No mistake about it,” Naomi murmured. “He’s smilin’ at the camera full-on, like he’s mighty happy to be havin’ his picture taken, too.”

  Ben cleared his throat. “Ya know, I saw a fancy security setup in his barn, like the ones the big English horse breeders use to keep track of who-all goes in and out of their barns.”

  “And it’s all perfectly legitimate,” a familiar male voice replied from the doorway.

  Miriam’s skin prickled. Hiram Knepp had been eating his breakfast out front, as he usually did, and her outburst had attracted his attention. Now here he was in the kitchen, and Tom Hostetler and Gabe Glick were standing up as though the topic of conversation had piqued their interest, as well. Rebecca had somehow moved the screen so the bishop’s photograph didn’t show up. Only the name of his business and those two fine stallions were visible.

  “Ya know, Hiram, I had no idea there was such a place as Bishop’s Ridge,” Naomi remarked.

  The bishop stood behind Miriam to look over Rebecca’s shoulder. “The English fellow who designed my website thought that would be a catchy advertising hook. We Amish are respected for the horses we breed, you see.” Hiram turned as Preacher Tom and Preacher Gabe came into the kitchen. “I could see where your dairy farm might benefit from a website, too, Tom.”

  “Got all the business I can handle, keepin’ up with orders from Central Dairy and the local folks wantin’ my fresh milk and cream,” Tom replied. “If I advertised like that, I’d have to buy more cows and hire more help. I’d need a new barn, too.”