Winter of Wishes

Book 3: Seasons of the Heart

by Charlotte Hubbard

Genres: Amish & Mennonite; Christian Romance

Synopsis

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 the 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 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 Englisher 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.

Release date: September 1, 2013

Publisher: Zebra Books

Print pages: 352

Sample

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, predawn 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 Rachel’s 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 mantel 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 health-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 anytime soon. Both Ira and Luke were 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. The 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 thirty-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 of 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.

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 halfhearted 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 shirtsleeves.

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 lollygaggin’ 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 and parked the buggy, 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 said 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,” 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 too ferhoodled 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 how to care for that elderly mother . . . or what if the kids ran her so ragged she got nothing done except to keep 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?

Andy pulled into the parking lot beside the Sweet Seasons and switched off his ignition. He’d stopped here a couple of times for a sack of muffins or cinnamon rolls but never for a sit-down meal. He was always on the run, in a hurry, it seemed. He admired the work ethic of the mother and daughters he’d seen cooking and waiting on tables, and he’d noticed how a lot of local folks ate here—which, in small towns like Willow Ridge, meant the food was excellent and the prices were right.

Rhoda Lantz had sounded like a delightful young woman over the phone, bubbly and cheerful. That was exactly the sort of caretaker his mom and kids needed. Oh, don’t lie to yourself, he thought as he climbed out of the car. You’re tired of having to be the cook and the maid and the dad and the mom and—

Andy paused at the door, reminding himself that if he carried his frustrations inside, he’d frighten Rhoda away. As he stepped into the Sweet Seasons, heavenly aromas of roasted turkey and stuffing still lingered after the lunch shift. Inhaling deeply, he gazed around at the sturdy tables and chairs . . . the homey calico curtains at the glistening windows. Two mature women and a young girl back in the kitchen chattered happily, wearing aprons over their dresses of deep green and blue, with their hair tucked up under their head coverings. Another young woman turned from the glass bakery case near the cash register, where she was taking out pies.

“Jah, and how can we help ya today?” she asked as she approached him. “Did ya come for a bite of lunch? Or would ya just happen to be the Mr. Leitner I jabbered at this morning?”

Andy couldn’t help himself: for the first time in weeks he was smiling from the top of his head to the tips of his toes, listening to this young woman’s lilting German accent. He held out his hand, gazing at her face . . . so fresh and open. Even without makeup she was remarkably attractive. “And would you be Rhoda? It’s wonderful to meet you.”

“Jah, jah, that’s me.” She glanced at the women in the kitchen and lowered her voice as she steered him toward a back table. “But I’ll tell ya straight out that I haven’t had the chance to mention this interview to Mamma,” she confessed with a nervous laugh. “So if she comes back to check on us, she’ll be in for a big surprise.”

Andy pulled out a chair for her and sat down across the table. He wanted to hire her on first sight—could already see she was exactly the sort of caretaker he’d had in mind—but he didn’t want to get crossways between mother and daughter, either. “Is it permissible for a Plain girl to work for me? To watch my kids and—”

“Jah, that’s not a problem! It’s just that, well—” Rhoda again glanced toward the kitchen, her cheeks turning pink. “When I saw your note in Zook’s Market, it was like the sign I’d been waitin’ for, that I was to move along into something new for myself. What with my twin sister gettin’ hitched, and my mamm marryin’ the new farrier come New Year’s, and Naomi’s girl comin’ to work here, and all the fellas either treatin’ me like I’m invisible, or—well, never mind about that part! I’m jabberin’ at ya again.”

Andy studied her face, sensing her hesitation. He didn’t know any Amish folks as friends, but he respected their faith and didn’t want to get her in trouble with her church leaders. “Rhoda, if you have reservations about working in a non-Amish home—”

“No, no—that part’s fine and dandy,” she blurted with an apologetic smile. “It’s just that I’ve not done any caretakin’ before, and—well, here comes my mamm, so the cat’s gonna get let out of the bag.”

Andy watched the woman who was approaching from the kitchen, drying her hands on a towel. She had energy about her, a liveliness he enjoyed before she even opened her mouth. He stood up, smiling because he couldn’t help it: this was the coziest, friendliest place he’d been in a long while.

“And what can we feed ya?” she said, her gaze flowing from his face to her daughter’s. “We’re closed for the day, but we’ve got—”

“Oh no, Mrs. Lantz, it’s not lunch I’ve come for,” he replied. “But, wow, this place smells just like Thanksgiving dinner! I missed out on all that wonderful food this year because my mom’s not up to the cooking anymore.”

Rhoda stood up, her expression tight. “Mamma, we’ve been so busy here today—and I didn’t want to say anything in front of Naomi and Hannah, but—well, I saw a note on the Zook’s bulletin board, for a job takin’ care of this fella’s mamm and his two kids. So I called him about it. This—this is Andy Leitner, from over around New Haven.”

“And I’m pleased to meet you, Mrs. Lantz,” Andy said.

“Oh, call me Miriam or I sound old enough to be your mamm,” she replied with a chuckle. “Except, thanks be to God, I’m healthy and happy and able to cook those turkeys you’re smellin’. Real sorry to hear your mother’s not doin’ so well. Puts a damper on everything.”

“Thank you,” he murmured, immediately sensing this woman’s compassion. “Mom had a stroke a while back, and while the therapy is helping, she still doesn’t have full use of her right hand and arm. She’s home when the kids get out of school, but . . .” How did he explain his situation without sounding like he was pleading for pity?

“The good fairies aren’t showin’ up to cook and clean, so things are lookin’ untidy,” Miram finished quietly. “And what sort of work do ya do, Mr. Leitner?”

Instinct prodded him to follow her earlier lead. Miriam’s face looked so pleasant and fresh it was hard to judge her age. She could easily be Rhoda’s older sister, considering how Amish women were often still having children when their firstborns got married. “Please, call me Andy,” he insisted, “or you’ll have me feeling old enough to be your father.”

Their laughter rang around the dining room, a sound that lightened his heart. After an ICU shift that had drained him, it felt wonderful to be here where their happiness rejuvenated him. “I’m almost finished with my internship, due to graduate with my nursing degree at the end of this semester.”

Their eyes widened, but he was used to Midwestern people who still considered nursing a female occupation. Yet he saw no derision on their smooth, sweet faces.

“What a wonderful gift, to be a healer,” Miriam said with a reverent nod.

“Jah, there’s never enough doctors or nurses to go around, especially in farmin’ areas like Willow Ridge,” Rhoda remarked. “It’s lucky for your mamm that ya probably knew what was goin’ wrong when she was havin’ her stroke.”

Andy vividly recalled how he’d found his mother unable to get out of bed, with her face already gone slack on one side so she couldn’t speak clearly. “Mom’s better now, but she has a long way to go and . . . well, with the kids in school and me working shifts, she gets depressed—”

“And ya don’t feel right leavin’ her by herself, wonderin’ what might go wrong.” Miriam’s face took on a thoughtful glow. “I’ll let you two talk out the details of this job. Be sure and stop by the kitchen before ya leave, though.”

And what did she mean by that? Andy noted the quickness of Miriam’s step and realized how long it had been since he’d spent time with a woman who knew her purpose and carried it out with humor and dignity. Why, even when he and Megan had first been married—

Megan has no place in this conversation. But she’ll have to be explained sooner or later, won’t she?

“Well, now.” Rhoda smiled shyly as she took her seat again. “That went better than I figured. Didn’t mean to catch ya betwixt the two of us kitty-cats—even though Mamma and I rarely show our claws.”

Andy delighted at her turn of phrase. “That’s one of the reasons I believe you’re the right person to restore order in my home and to—to care for everyone.” He cleared his throat, deciding to lay his cards on the table. “I’m divorced, Rhoda. I know your church frowns on that, so if it’ll cause a problem—or if you or your mother feel uncomfortable about it, I’ll understand.”

Rhoda studied him, her hands clasped on the table. He saw the eagerness in her blue eyes, the desire to be helpful and to try a new job despite her inexperience. “When we lost my dat a couple years back,” she said in a low voice, “Mamma and Rachel and I kept goin’ here at the café by doin’ some things the bishop didn’t think was quite right— mostly because he wanted to marry Mamma himself,” she added wryly.

“I can certainly understand. . .