Becky looped back into the living room of our new home. “Did you see the kitchen? Stainless steel appliances like in a professional kitchen. A six-burner range. Think of all the great food we can cook!”
I grinned at her. “We? Don’t you mean you?”
“Right, me! It’s going to be amazing. I can’t wait to invite everyone over. I’m thinking I’ll make tacos, a real authentic Mexican meal. My family’s never had Mexican food. They’re missing out.”
“It sounds great.” I didn’t want to dampen her enthusiasm, but I doubted that the Troyer family would ever come to our new home. That would be certain shunning for them.
She twirled about the room. “We should host a Christmas party too. Wouldn’t that be fun? I’ve always wanted to go to an Englischer party.”
“What do you think an English party is?”
“From what I’ve seen on television, there’s lots of food, laughter, and music.”
“We’ll see. I’ll need to check with the Quills. This is their house, and we will only be here for a short time.”
“It will be great. You’ll see.” She waltzed around the room. “Can we have a Christmas tree?”
I smiled. “Of course. We will definitely have a Christmas tree.”
She grinned. “My first one!”
Timothy grunted as he carried Becky’s trunk into the house. “What do you have in here? Horseshoes?”
“It’s my hope chest, bruder.”
“Oh.” He set it inside the door. “Where does it go?”
“My room,” she said. “On the second floor.”
Timothy groaned as he lifted the chest.
There was a tap on the frame of the front door. “G-Gude Mariye,” a deep voice ventured through the open door.
Timothy nearly dropped Becky’s hope chest.
“Timothy, be careful,” his sister cried.
With care, he set the trunk on the carpeted floor.
“Bishop Hooley?” I asked.
“M-may I come in?”
“Yes, of course.” I gestured to the Quills’ sofa.
The bishop stood tall and looked more like the leader he was chosen to be.
“I have already been to your family farm and told your parents that I was wrong to put those restraints on them. They do not have to worry about being shunned from the community. After what h-has happened with the haircutting and attack on my d-daughter, I see how holding too tightly to something can be worse than loosening one’s grip.”
A smile spread on Becky’s face. “So we can visit home again?”
He nodded. “Y-yes, with no fear of me.”
Timothy’s reaction was much more solemn. “Thank you, bishop.”
“How is Sadie?” I asked tentatively.
“She is much better now. Now that she knows who attacked her. She is less timid, less afraid to venture out. S-she told me of her engagement to Ezekiel Young.” Tears gathered in the corners of the bishop’s eyes. “I h-hope she can heal from that wound too. The man who killed Ezekiel should be punished.”
I bit my lip. After his arrest, Dylan went off the deep end, thinking every woman he saw was his estranged wife. Chief Rose said he had a good shot at an insanity plea, but I didn’t share this with the bishop. Eventually, both the English and Amish papers would cover the trial. Gerald Tanner’s coins were never found.
“And Leah and the other girls?” Becky asked.
The bishop’s eyes were sad. “Sadie has forgiven them and chosen not to press charges. However, the chief of police told me if the judge decides to call the act a religious hate crime, Sadie’s forgiveness will not matter to the c-court. For right now, the girls are free and home with their families.”
Becky fingered her long braid. She’d yet to cut her hair.
“When you are my age, it is easy to forget how it felt to be y-young, to be in rumspringa.” The bishop laced his fingers together in front of himself as if in prayer. “Even leaders in the ch-church do not have all the answers. Gott shows me the way if I am diligent in my obedience to Him.”
“He does the same for all of us,” Timothy said.
The bishop’s eyes were hooded. “Deacon Sutter’s unhappy with my change of heart, and I fear he may agitate for a time about the changes in the district.”
An angry deacon was never a good thing.
The bishop moved toward the open door. “I have told you what I needed to say. Now, I must go.” He tipped his black felt hat and closed the door behind himself.
“Did I imagine that? Or did Bishop Hooley apologize to us?” Becky asked.
“He apologized,” I whispered.
“A Mexican-themed Christmas party might really happen, and we can invite the whole family. I’m going to work on the menu.” She jumped off of the couch and ran to the kitchen.
“I thought you were going to help me unload the pickup,” Timothy called after her.
“Later. Christmas is only two weeks away. I haven’t much time,” she called from the kitchen.
The doorbell rang.
I shook my head. “Another visitor already?”
I opened the door. Thomas grinned up at me. “Chloe, we have come to take you on a sleigh ride.” Beyond Thomas, Grandfather Zook and the other Troyer children waved from a large, open-air black sleigh.
The Quills’ home was in the country, four miles from Appleseed Creek. Our nearest neighbor was a half mile away. Because of the house’s remoteness, we were one of the last roads for the county to plow. Timothy’s truck tires and the bishop’s buggy wheels were the only tracks to mar the freshly fallen snow.
Sparky stamped the snow-covered country road, and the bells on his harness rang. Ruth grinned from the front seat of the sleigh. A brown-haired girl about her age, Anna Lambright, sat between Ruth and Grandfather Zook. Ruth, it seemed, had been reunited with her best friend.
Timothy stood behind me in the doorway. “Ready to go on a real Amish sleigh ride?” he whispered in my ear.
“Yes.” I smiled up at him.
More than ready.