Free Winter of Wishes by Charlotte Hubbard Page A

first.
     And what with gettin’ hitched and startin’ up in a new home with a fella a few years
     younger than me, well . . .” Once again a grin lit up her mother’s face. “Let’s just
     say I’m lookin’ forward to bein’ a bride again.”
    Miriam Lantz radiated a passion for love and life—and for Ben Hooley. And why wouldn’t
     she? Ben was a wonderful man, not to mention attractive. In the months since the blacksmith’s
     arrival, he’d contributed a lot to the Willow Ridge community.
    “If you think your website needs to come down, Mamma, that’s the way it’ll be,” Rebecca
     said. “It’s wonderful, seeing you this happy! You’re a good example for me to follow,
     when I finally meet a guy I’d consider marrying.”
    Her mother shrugged. “That’s what mamms are for.”
    Wasn’t it just the best thing, that after she had lost one mother, she’d found Miriam? God’s hand, leadin’ ya where you’re supposed to go . . .
    Rebecca went warm inside. She’d spent the last couple of years wishing, figuring out
     what to do with her life . . . trying out dreams she wanted to make a reality. And
     today at the Sweet Seasons, a major chunk of her future had magically, effortlessly,
     fallen into place.
    Pretty awesome, God. Thanks!

Chapter Seven
    Ben sat in the church service Sunday morning smiling, trying not to be obvious about
     peering between the heads of the older fellows seated in front of him. When Miriam’s
     eyes found his from across the crowded room, his heart fluttered. Maybe their game
     of peekaboo wasn’t appropriate for Sunday worship, yet who could fault him for loving
     the woman he intended to marry?
    Meanwhile their deacon, Reuben Riehl, stood up to read from the large Bible. “From
     the thirteenth chapter of Romans, the day’s Scripture lesson,” the burly redhead announced.
     “‘Let every soul be subject unto the higher powers. For there is no power but of God:
     the powers that be are ordained of God,’” he said in his clear voice. “‘Whosoever
     therefore resisteth the power, resisteth the ordinance of God; and they that resist
     shall receive to themselves damnation. For rulers are not a terror to good works but
     to the evil . . .’”
    As the reading ended and Jeremiah Shetler rose to preach, Ben sensed the Morning Star
     bishop’s words would be aimed partly at Hiram Knepp: because of his shunning, Hiram
     sat in the front row of the men’s side with his head bowed as a sign of humility and
     repentance. From what Ben had heard from his aunt Jerusalem, however, Hiram was champing
     at the bit and more than ready to get his final two weeks of separation behind him
     so he could resume his role as the bishop of Willow Ridge. He wasn’t a man known for
     letting anyone else take the lead or take control.
    And sure enough, after a three-hour service focused mostly on the theme of obeying
     a higher power—be it God, or those chosen by God—Hiram abruptly stood up and stalked
     out. Miriam’s kitchen door slammed in his wake, raising the eyebrows of those in the
     huge room. After a moment, the men rose to rearrange the room, as usual, while the
     women got the food ready to serve.
    “Well, there you have it,” Seth Brenneman murmured. “Hiram’s not allowed to stay for
     today’s common meal, nor to talk much to members while he’s shunned, but he’s sure
     enough been chattin’ up those of us who haven’t yet joined the church.”
    Ben turned to face the two brothers who, with Rachel’s Micah, had completed Willow
     Ridge’s new mill in record time so they could build his house for Miriam by year’s
     end. “ Jah? How so?” he asked.
    Naomi’s brawny blond sons looked at each other as they shifted the long wooden pew
     benches into place for the meal. “Oh, he seems real interested in what-all species
     of wood ya chose for your cabinets and stairs,” Seth remarked. “And he’s askin’ about
     what the place is costin’ to