Free Winter of Wishes by Charlotte Hubbard

breathed. “I hope my living
     here won’t cause you any problems with Hiram Knepp, or—”
    “Puh!” Her mother reached for a second piece of chicken. “What with the bishop bein’
     put under the ban for hidin’ that fancy car, he’s learnin’ humility like the rest
     of us. And have ya ever known me to knuckle under just because Hiram thought he knew
     what I needed better than I did?”
    Rebecca laughed. Such a feisty spirit this woman had beneath her prayer kapp and apron.
     “You certainly proved that when my dad bought your building, and again when you decided
     to marry Ben instead of the bishop.”
    “So there ya have it!” Rhoda crowed.
    “For sure and for certain!” Miriam declared, grabbing her hand again. “For gut , and forever, Rebecca.”
    “ Jah! For gut and forever!” her sister echoed as she completed their circle around the little kitchen
     table.
    Rebecca held her breath, overwhelmed by the love that filled this room . . . by the
     pulse that connected them with an inexplicable bond. It called to mind the morning
     of Rachel’s wedding day, when she had dressed like her sisters: they’d obviously been
     triplets on the outside, yet the three of them were even more deeply unified on a
     level she’d never experienced. While being raised as the only child of Janet and Bob
     Oliveri had been a wonderful life, this coming together with her kin moved her deeply.
     Blood was thicker than water—and the love of Miriam, Rachel, and Rhoda Lantz had certainly
     proved stronger than the river current that had carried her away as a toddler.
    “Thank you so much,” she whispered. Then she grinned. “I think Dad might be just as
     tickled as I am about this, when I tell him where I’m moving.”
    “He’ll know you’re in gut company, amongst family,” her mother agreed as she helped herself to another slice
     of bread. “It’ll free him up to make his own move forward, just like it’ll give ya
     a way to start your computer business without goin’ out on too much of a limb. Once
     again, it’s the hand of God nudgin’ everybody the way He wants us to go—just like
     He’s done for Rhoda.”
    Rebecca considered that as she helped herself to more of this simple, delicious meal.
     “I guess I always thought of Amish women as stay-at-home mothers who mostly kept up
     the house and did the gardening, and who expected their daughters to do the same.
     I’m glad I was mistaken about that!”
    “Oh, what you’re sayin’ is true,” Miriam replied, “because the Old Ways haven’t changed
     for centuries. But losin’ the head of the household puts a whole ’nother twist into
     things for a widow. I could’ve lived with my brothers’ families in Jamesport or Clark,
     or asked some of Jesse’s family to take me in. But Willow Ridge is my home.”
    A delightful smile lit her mother’s face. “Once I decided to bake, and Naomi jumped
     in with me—on account of how her Ezra can’t work at his carpentry, after his accident—why,
     all sorts of doors opened up. Now I’m wonderin’ if we’re gettin’ more business than
     we can handle. But we’ll work it out,” Mamma insisted quickly. “After all, here you are, Rebecca, takin’ on some of the table-waitin’ like a pro. God’ll provide whatever
     we need, whether it be gettin’ more help . . . or decidin’ that the new website is
     stretchin’ us beyond where the Sweet Seasons is meant to go.”
    Rebecca’s eyebrows rose as she passed on what her teachers had impressed upon her.
     “Well, Mamma, nobody goes into business to get smaller—”
    “That’s English thinkin’. We Plain folks don’t believe our livelihoods should overtake
     our lives.” Mamma clasped her hands on the tabletop, her expression firm yet loving.
     “While Derek Shotwell at the bank would sure enough loan me money to expand—and to
     convince your dat to add on to the building—that’s not gonna happen. My faith and my family come