“I’m on my own clock today, remember?” Micah’s grin looked wide and confident. “I’ll be here.”
“Here ya be—bacon and two eggs, over easy. Mamma’s homemade cinnamon-swirl bread for toast,” Rachel said as she set the plates before Tiffany. “And here’s that sausage pie I’ve been wantin’ all mornin’. And for you, Micah, one of the cherry-pie bars we’re tryin’ out for lunch. Mamma wants your opinion on that, or you’d be gettin’ no such favors from her, ain’t so?”
Rhoda joined them with a plate of melon wedges from the buffet table. “Be back, soon as I refill the bishop’s coffeepot.”
As Tiffany bit into the buttered toast, her gaze followed Rhoda to the back table. “So that’s the guy who says you get electricity? Or says you’re not supposed to hang with girls who wear makeup and drive fast cars?”
“
Jah
, that’s Hiram Knepp. The dark-haired one.” Micah took a huge bite and then licked thick, ruby-colored filling from his lips. “I’m guessin’ he’ll be over here to look you over when he’s
gut
and ready. Nothin’ shy about him.”
“Oh.” Tiffany’s face fell and then she glanced around the dining room, which only had guests at a few tables now. “You got a restroom? Maybe I should go—”
“Nah, don’t go hidin’. He’ll wait ya out.” Rachel closed her eyes over the first bite of her late breakfast, savoring the spice of the sausage and the way the warm cheese flooded her tongue. It was surprising how calm she felt, sitting here beside the girl who’d set her top to spinning so fast before. “And before the bishop says anythin’—about anythin’—I wanna apologize, Tiffany. I had no call to holler at ya last time ya came here. I was just, well—
ferhoodled
to find out we had another sister.”
“
Ferhoodled?
What a funny word!” Tiffany looked her straight in the eye then, assessing her ... yet not judging. She smiled as she spread jelly on her toast. “Like when your best friend lets her boyfriend pitch a fit at you, and you blow outta there before you can pack all your stuff? That’s
ferhoodled
...
jah?
”
Rachel’s insides tightened at this information, but she had to grin at Tiffany’s attempt to understand their language. “
Jah
, it means you’re all muddled and confused and chasin’ your tail—like I’ve been lately. Well, ya know what I mean.”
“Yeah, I do. Losing Mom stirred up a lot of stuff I didn’t expect—besides finding out about you sisters and my birth mother, that is.”
“We had a hard time doin’ without Dat for a while, too.” Rhoda sat down to her breakfast, recalling their struggle as she gazed at them all, but her first sweet bite of cantaloupe brought back her smile. “Mamma’s poured herself into this café ever since, and we’re helpin’ her make a go of it. And to think ya found us here!”
Rachel glanced toward the table in the back corner, sensing she didn’t have much time to say things the way she wanted to. “We most likely seem real odd to ya, on account of our plain-colored cape dresses and our kapps. But understand, just because ya wear English clothes and those chains and whatnot? You’re still family, Tiffany—part of us. Just like your one little pink dress matches up with the two Mamma had packed away. We understand that now.”
“
Jah
,” Rhoda chimed in. “And we won’t be tryin’ to make ya Plain—unless ya wanna be! It’s tough for Englishers to change over to the Old Ways. Classes to take on our beliefs, before ya join the church, and a whole new language to learn—not to mention givin’ up your jewelry and jeans and makeup!”
Tiffany laughed with them. “I’ve gotta say I like the guys in their suspenders, though,” she remarked with a playful wink at Micah. “Do your brothers and the Kanagy boys all have nice Amish girlfriends?”
“Not that they admit to,” Micah replied. “We keep our courtin’ a secret, mostly, till we intend to marry. But ya can’t miss who’s drivin’ which girls around in their buggies of an evenin’.”
“And some couples aren’t quite as
gut
at keepin’ quiet about it,” Mamma hinted as she and Naomi set their plates on the table. “Tiffany, this is Micah’s
mamm
, Naomi Brenneman. My fine cook she is, too. Couldn’t run this place without her!”
Tiffany smiled around a big mouthful of bacon and eggs. And as the chatter continued among the six of them, Rachel realized how smoothly it was going ... how nice it felt to sit and enjoy their food together rather than forking in whatever was left from breakfast while they prepared for the lunch crowd. A movement behind them made her turn: Tom Hostetler tossed his napkin onto the table and hurried through the center hallway into the quilt shop.
And it’s a sure thing he’s not shoppin’ for fat quarters of calico.
Mamma, too, took note of his exit and glanced over to where Hiram and Gabe remained seated. “I’d best see if they’d like fresh coffee, or—”
“I’ll get it, Mamma. Ya just sat down.” Rachel walked quickly between the sturdy oak tables, empty except for theirs and the brethren’s, to fill a clean carafe. Something about the way the two men talked with their heads together warned her not to intrude ... but she was doing her job, checking on their guests. Wasn’t she?
“... see what ya mean about that girl and her unnatural getup,” Gabe was murmuring. “Lantz or not, her type could cause problems ...”
Rachel ducked in quickly to set the coffee on their table. “Can I get ya anythin’ else?” she asked brightly. “Got fresh cherry-pie bars Mamma made for lunch, to go with this coffee. Or if ya want your check—”
“We’re fine. Thank you, Rachel.” Bishop Knepp gave her a purposeful look.
She put on a smile. “If ya need somethin’, holler. And when ya get a minute, we’d like ya to meet our sister.”
Back to the table she walked, wishing she hadn’t overheard that snippet of talk. If the elders wanted to talk about problems in their district, why didn’t they do it private-like? Maybe she shouldn’t have mentioned coming over to meet Tiffany—
“Everythin’ all right, honey-bug?”
Rachel noted the glow on Mamma’s face and decided this wasn’t the time to spoil things with gloom and doom. “Wouldn’t call it a tea party at the bishop’s table, but
jah
, they got what they need for now.”
Naomi and her mother exchanged a glance—but then Mamma smiled, suddenly excited. “And speakin’ of parties, we need to be thinkin’ about you girls turnin’ twenty-one soon, ain’t so? Especially now that our other chick’s come back to the nest!”
“That’s somethin’ to celebrate, for sure and for certain!” Naomi agreed. “Must make ya feel mighty fine, Miriam, to have your three girls all at the same table again.”
“
Jah
, it sure does.” Mamma blinked rapidly and then grasped Tiffany’s wrist. “Understand, we’re not expectin’ ya to give up your ways, or—we just love havin’ ya here with us, Daughter. Not a birthday’s gone by for Rachel and Rhoda that I didn’t—just for a minute—think of you cuttin’ into that cake, too.”
Tiffany looked like a cornered cat, or maybe just flustered by this sudden upswelling of emotion. But then she relaxed again. “I’ve always loved birthday parties—”
“Us, too!” Rhoda blurted out.
“What a
gut
idea! Please say you’ll come!” Rachel insisted as she sat down beside Tiffany again. “We’ll make ice cream—”
“And strawberry cream cake—our favorite!” her sister added with a grin.
“—and you can see if ya recall anythin’ about the house, and—well, because ya know how it is, after one sister gets hitched,” Rachel continued earnestly. “Just won’t be the same kind of party as when we’re all still girls!”
“I’m thinkin’ that might be a
gut
time to show off the apartment in the smithy, too,” Micah joined in with a sly smile. “Was kinda hopin’ for that to be part of the birthday surprise this year.”
Tiffany’s gaze flitted among them as she followed this happy chatter. She was sitting tall, looking pleased to be included in these out-of-the blue plans. Yet she was nipping her lower lip. “So ... what day is our birthday, really? I’m guessing Mom and Dad celebrated on May fifth because, well—that’s the date on the birth certificate, which we now know belonged to the first Tiffany.”
A stunned silence fell. What did it feel like to be this old, yet to find out for the first time when your birthday was? And how ... second-fiddle must it feel, to realize you’d been a fill-in for your parents’ natural-born child? Rachel gripped Rhoda’s hand, and then—hoping she wouldn’t seem pushy—she took Tiffany’s hand, too. “August fifteenth. Gonna be the nicest birthday we’ve had, too—for sure and for certain—if ya come meet our friends and—”
The loud scraping of chairs across the room made them all look up. Rachel reached for her ticket pad and then froze: Tom Hostetler had come back with Reuben Reihl in tow, and now all four of the brethren were looking their way. Even without their black hats and vested suits, their Sunday
fer
-
gut
clothing, they made a somber-looking bunch. Hiram Knepp approached with the others behind him, all of them with grim, bearded faces.
Like goats goin’ to a funeral
, Rachel thought. And then she immediately added,
God, I hope you’ll forgive my sass and stand beside us now. This looks like somethin’ we won’t wanna hear.
“We’ve discussed this subject before,” the bishop began, directing his gaze at Mamma and then at Micah. “But now that we’ve all
seen
this Englisher who’s distracted you two from following your promises to the church, we must advise you that your sin won’t go unnoticed. We’re going into private session now, quite probably to initiate the required discipline at Sunday’s service.”
Chapter 18
Rachel’s heart thudded. She gripped her sisters’ hands—refused to let go when Tiffany tried to pull away. It was one thing to behave as a bishop, who took charge of keeping his flock on the path toward salvation; it was downright rude to talk about Tiffany as though she weren’t sitting right in front of him.
“And just what are we talkin’ about, exactly?” Naomi asked in a strained voice.
Hiram clasped his hands in front of him, as he often did when he was preaching. “This concerns matters I’ve discussed—twice now—with Miriam and Micah. Unfortunately, neither has heeded my strong suggestion to eschew the dubious company of—”
“How about ya say it in plain talk? I’m a Plain woman.” Naomi’s brown eyes flashed as she rose slowly from her chair. “And if you’re meanin’ to put the ban on my Micah—and maybe Miriam, as well—it’s an obvious concern to me, too, ain’t so?”
Rachel and Rhoda exchanged cautious glances. It wasn’t like Naomi—or anyone else—to challenge Bishop Knepp. He did speak in an elevated tone and use a vocabulary they knew only from their dictionary work in school, because that was part and parcel of his esteemed behavior as their leader.
“Naomi, let it be,” Mamma whispered. “We’ll work this out—”
“This is the support of my family we’re talkin’ about!” Mamma’s friend countered. She gripped the back of her chair—furniture from her sons’ cabinetry shop—barely restraining her anger. “If ya shun Micah—don’t allow him to go to jobs where Seth and Aaron gotta work with him—they can’t make
gut
on their backlog of orders! And if ya force Miriam to stop her bakin’ here, the Sweet Seasons’ll close for sure and for certain!”
Naomi paused, but she wasn’t ready to let the bishop have his say yet. Her face flushed with the knowledge that she was defying authority, with the preachers and Deacon Reihl as witnesses. “Say what ya want about Miriam and me workin’ here insteada at home,” she continued in a voice that shook with conviction, “but it’s kept our families fed! My faith is everything to me,
jah
—and by workin’ a job because Ezra can’t be a carpenter anymore, I’m puttin’ my faith into action! The Lord helps those who help themselves, and we Brennemans believe in payin’ our own way!”
Micah, too, rose from his chair to put an arm around his petite mother’s shoulders. “Ya think we boys like it that our
mamm
is workin’ so hard here? The cabinet shop’s doin’ a boomin’ business now, but if ya take me outta the picture, I don’t know how we’re gonna keep payin’ on Dat’s physical therapy and medications, Bishop.”
“You knew the consequences of your waywardness when you stepped off the path to visit this Englisher, did you not?” Hiram demanded in a low voice.
Micah glanced at Rachel and Tiffany, his expression grim. “Like I told ya before, I understood the risks when I went to visit Miriam’s other daughter, and I’m not goin’ back to see her again. If ya want my confession at service this Sunday, I’ll give it. But I’m askin’ ya not to burden my whole family on account of my behavior.”
“You know our hearts, Bishop. Pardon me if I’m oversteppin’, but I think you’re misjudgin’ our intentions here, about reunitin’ with my Rebecca. And you surely must realize it’s not our way to ask for help when we can help ourselves!” Mamma joined in. She rose to stand behind Tiffany, her hands on her daughter’s shoulders. “And if comin’ between me and my child—and then makin’ me give up the mission that’s sustained me since Jesse died—are your ways of convincin’ me to come outta mournin’ so’s you can court me, well, that’s a mighty strange way to win a woman’s love! Ain’t so, Hiram?”
Tom Hostetler’s mouth dropped open, while Gabe and Reuben stared at the bishop as though his interest in Miriam Lantz came as a big surprise to them. Then Gabe, the eldest of the brethren, cleared his throat and looked sharply at them all.
“This defiance—this disrespect—for the man God chose as our earthly leader
appalls
me.” Preacher Glick’s voice reverberated in such a low tone they all had to lean forward to catch everything he said ... but there was no missing his message. “I think every one of ya needs to be on your knees at a members’ meetin’ this Sunday. Such a raisin’ of voices! Against a man who takes responsibility for your very souls! You should be ashamed, and ask the bishop’s forgiveness. And then accept whatever discipline he and the People agree to after witnessin’ your contrite confessions.”
The dining room rang with silence and unspoken fear. Rachel’s pulse nearly drove her to stand up and join in, defending her mother and the man she loved—except Rhoda grabbed her arm. The ominous way her sister shook her head, warning her to keep quiet, reminded her of the trouble her outspoken complaints had caused with Micah ... how it wasn’t always best to voice her opinions, even if she felt she had good reason.
And the tightness of Hiram Knepp’s jaw, and Mamma’s wide eyes, seemed reason enough to stay out of this. For now.
Naomi turned her head sharply, like a little girl about to pitch a fit. Then she let out her breath. “I apologize if I spoke outta turn, Hiram,” she murmured. “Just my worry talkin’ for me, is all. Wasn’t my intent to offend ya, or to question your authority.”
“Nor mine,” Mamma echoed. “I’ll go before the People Sunday mornin’ to make my confession,
jah
.”
Bishop Knepp looked at them all, assessing. His gaze lingered longest on poor Mamma, as though to prompt a more elaborate apology.
“Didn’t intend any disrespect, Bishop,” Micah stated quietly, “but the Lord knows I’m not sorry for sayin’ what had to be said. Like I told ya, I’ll come before the People, to give my confession and accept whatever punishment ya decide—”
“Wait a minute! What am I missing here?” Tiffany brought the butt of her fork down hard on the table when she pounded her fist. She looked from Gabe to Tom to Hiram with an incredulous expression that would only provoke them more, but there was no stopping her. “You’re going to excommunicate—or shun, or whatever!—Micah because he came to see me? Because I refused to listen to him anyplace except my car? Because I invited him to dinner and he told me how much my original family loved me?”
Mamma gripped Tiffany’s shoulders firmly. “Daughter, now’s not the time or the place to—”
“But I don’t understand! Why was it a sin for Micah to tell me I needed a better class of friends? And that I needed to get my act together?” Tiffany demanded. “He was absolutely right! And who besides Micah and I
know
what went on and what was said? I don’t know where you got your information, Bishop, but—”
Mamma clapped her hand gently over Tiffany’s mouth, entreating Hiram with her wide brown eyes. “Englishers don’t know our ways, remember.”
“All the more reason not to spend time with them,” Gabe replied tightly. “We’re seein’ firsthand the trouble it can cause, allowin’ outsiders to have sway over our thinkin’.”
Rachel’s temples throbbed and her heart pounded so hard she could barely breathe. How had this conversation gotten so far out of hand so fast? With each passing moment, Hiram Knepp looked steelier ... more inclined to require the strictest discipline. And why? Because Mamma had reclaimed her long-lost daughter?
Not Tiffany’s fault she was raised outside the People’s influence. And Tiffany had only asked the question she herself had wanted to: How had the bishop
known
what Micah did when he went to Morning Star? This was yet another reason for her not to speak up or ask too many questions. The brethren had their way of finding things out.
“I’ve made my decision.” Hiram Knepp clasped his hands again, focusing on each of them in turn. “Miriam, I now believe that the decision I made last year—to allow you to construct this building for your business—was a mistake. Once I went along with that, I made all manner of other exceptions for you, allowing conveniences and appliances—your partnership with Mennonites—so the facility would meet health department standards.” Hiram let his stern gaze sink in along with his words. “Had I adhered to my original belief, that a woman shouldn’t own property that will take her out of her home, away from her family, we’d have prevented many of today’s problems before they arose.”
Mamma’s hand flew to her mouth. She closed her eyes against tears, composing her thoughts before she spoke again. “Are ya sayin’ I can’t bake? Can’t support myself and my girls?”
Rachel glanced fearfully at Rhoda, Micah, and Naomi. They, too, looked totally stricken. What on earth was going on here? Had this really been discussed by all the elders? The way Tom Hostetler and Gabe Glick shifted, their mouths pressed into tight lines, suggested they’d had nothing to do with this decision ... this
proclamation
that Mamma would no longer own the Sweet Seasons Bakery Café.
Bishop Knepp cleared his throat and waited for Mamma to look at him. “As I mentioned the other night, I believe your independence—your pride in ownership—has blurred your vision. Misplaced your priorities. You must sell the building, Miriam.”
Mamma’s’ whimper rang out in the empty café. “And what am I to do for an income? I’ve got no other family to fall back on, and I detest becomin’ dependent—”
“Plenty of women bake and sell from their homes.” He glanced at Naomi and then toward the door, where an elderly couple was coming inside. “With the business you’ve built up, you could surely cater from your own kitchen, as well.”
“And what of the quilt shop?” Naomi demanded, pointing toward the other half of the building as she stared at Reuben. “Your cousin Mary and Zeb’s aunts’ll be hard pressed to find a better location—”
“I didn’t say you had to give up your businesses,” Hiram remarked more quietly. “If the building’s new owner agrees to keep the café and quilt shop here, so be it. You may remain open until the building sells, which gives you time to formulate a new plan. A plan that honors God as well as your places in His earthly kingdom.”
The sound of chairs scooting against the floor made them all look up. Rhoda excused herself to greet their customers, her face splotchy. Rachel felt she was coming out of a bad dream, back to the reality of cooking and serving their customers—a reality that might not be supporting them by the end of summer.
“I’ll arrange a time at the bank in New Haven, and let you know when we’ll be initiating the sale, Miriam.” With a nod, Hiram dismissed himself. Left them at the table, stunned silent, as he and the other three brethren exited the café.
“I’m outta here.” Tiffany eased her chair back so as not to bump into Mamma, who stood with her fist pressed to her mouth, alongside a wide-eyed Naomi. “I don’t understand this stuff, but if it’s my fault for showing up—or the way I look—well, I don’t know what else to say. I’m really, really sorry this happened, Mamma.”
As the girl in pink and black hurried toward the door, Rachel jumped from her chair. With a grimace, she recalled the last time, hollering at Tiffany to leave and never come back. Now that
that
mistake had been reconciled, everything else in their world seemed to be crumbling around them. What a shame that her sister had called their mother
Mamma
now, when Tiffany was leaving again? Maybe for good this time.
“Wait—Tiffany! Rebecca!” she called out as she trotted across the gravel parking lot.
Her sister opened the car door and turned. Wet, black streaks flowed down her cheeks. “This is the most—Can’t you
see
what that guy’s doing?” she muttered. “
He’s
going to buy the building, just you watch! Control freak that he is, he’s pulling her strings like she’s a puppet. Making her dependent upon him for—oh, forget it! This is just too freaking weird!”
Rachel bit back her reply. She’d had some of the same suspicions, but hadn’t voiced them for fear she’d make the situation worse. “We meant it about the birthday party, though! Please come!” she pleaded, gripping the hot car door. “We
want
ya here! And please don’t abandon Mamma, now that she needs us most.”
Tiffany gazed at her for several seconds, maybe studying what she’d look like as a Plain girl. “I’ll have to think about it. Seems I’ve been nothing but trouble for Micah and our mother, and I have enough hassles dealing with Dad,” she said in a rush. “Can’t make any promises. But thanks for asking.”
Moments later Tiffany’s car roared out of the parking lot, throwing gravel as she pulled onto the highway. She veered sharply to avoid hitting Bishop Knepp’s buggy and then sped on down the road.
Rachel sighed sadly. Would they ever see her again?