"On the winds of change and autumn leaves, can the true colours of another be revealed before falling"
Reviewed by Audrey Lawrence
Posted November 23, 2012
Inspirational Amish
Mariam Lantz was restless. Despite the storm and the very
early hour of 1:00 in the morning, she left her family
home in the Amish community of Willow Ridge, Missouri to
scurry to her bakery to get a head start on the day's
baking and for the special cakes for Bishop Knepp's
surprise birthday party. Mariam loved baking and cooking
and normally working in the tantalizing aroma of her Sweet
Seasons Bakery Cafe would relax her. This was
particularly true now that her ownership (along with her
partner and good friend Naomi Brenneman) of it was assured,
but today she fretted and hoped that the Bishop would not
think she made a special effort for him and have him come
courting again. Oh, she definitely did not want to be tied
down to that stern and stubborn man. She could well
imagine what life would be like to have to cook and clean
only for him and his children, especially his unruly
younger ones, from his two previous wives, now both
decreased.
Suddenly, hearing crashing glass, Mariam moves quickly into
the darkened café and then is further surprised to hear the
calming voice of an unseen man struggling to get his
spooked horse under control. As the thunder pounds
overhead, the stallion rears and kicks his owner right in
the chest and knocks him down. That was the very way she
lost her husband, Jesse, over two years ago! Her heart
pounding, Miriam recovers herself and goes to his aid. Just
as quickly, the stranger, Amish from his plain attire, has
already gotten up and is even offering to help her clean
up the large tree branch that now covers the tables in her
closed dining café.
As the storm outside diminishes, sparks ignite inside. Ben
Hooley, a handsome traveling farrier, just can not take
his eyes off this beautiful woman with the teasing laugh
and dark brown eyes as sweet as her pies. Likewise,
Mariam finds herself responding to this young handsome and
muscular man with his charming smile -- so unlike how she
feels about the Bishop.
Soon, however, one of her three triplet daughters, Rhoda is
setting her cap on the handsome blacksmith. Mariam is
concerned and wonders how Ben will react. Will he
want the younger beautiful daughter instead of the older
widowed mother?
As romance buds in the autumn sunshine, Mariam stays busy
with the café and preparing for the upcoming marriage of
Naomi's son, Micah, to Rachel, her daughter and Rhoda's
sister while fending off the Bishop's less than subtle
claims on her.
Meanwhile, her third triplet, Rebecca, who had been lost in
a flash flood when she was three and raised by an English
family who named her Tiffany, dropped by and was excited
to show her Amish mom her latest college assignment on the
web. But as they all looked on, they came across a
shocking discovery that does not put the Bishop in a good
light. What will he do now?
After reading Charlotte Hubbard (Naomi King)'s first book,
Summer of Secrets, in her Seasons of the Heart series, I
couldn't wait to get my hands on AUTUMN WINDS and it is
even more wonderful than I could have imagined it. I have
read many Amish books and this is certainly one of the best
I have ever read! What I particularly enjoyed this time
was the unfolding of a mature romance and finding myself
waiting with as much anticipation as Ben for the first
sweet kiss with this incredible and strong woman. I also
enjoyed that most of the family and community dynamics
involved how the community and the Bishop reacted to the
Amish newcomers in their midst.
I don't want to give away more of the story, however, I can
definitely affirm that readers who love Amish stories, such
as those by Beverley Lewis, and other Amish romance writers
will love this captivating story. As accidental incidents
blow off the covers from hidden secrets, people have to
make a decision about how they stand about following their
faith and who they care about. As in her previous book,
Hubbard interweaves in her storyline, a way for her
characters to discern God's will from what people feel they
want to do or want to make others do. AUTUMN WINDS is also a
very compelling read as a standalone story. Given that, I
have to admit I am eagerly looking forward to Winter of
Wishes due out in the fall of 2013. For readers who enjoy
the tantalizing descriptions of Amish food and baked goods,
definitely check out http://www.charlottehubbard.com for
the delicious recipes from the Sweet Seasons bakery, that
you are also sure to enjoy! I know I did!
SUMMARY
The leaves are falling and there's a chill in the air in
Willow Ridge, Missouri, the quaint, quiet Amish town where
love, loyalty, and faith in the Old Ways are about to be put
to the test ...
Autumn Winds
Winds of change are blowing through Willow Ridge, and
they're bringing a stranger to the Sweet Seasons Bakery. At
first, widowed Miriam Lantz has misgivings about Ben Hooley,
a handsome but rootless traveling blacksmith. But as she
gets to know the kind–hearted newcomer, she wonders if
his arrival was providential. Perhaps she could find love
again––if only there weren't so many obstacles
in the way. With Bishop Knepp relentlessly pursuing her hand
in marriage and the fate of her beloved cafe at stake,
Miriam must listen to God and her heart to find the
happiness she longs for and the love she deserves.
ExcerptLord, if this rain's gonna cause another flood like ya
sent Noah, I hope You'll give me a sign to get to higher
ground. Can't have my bakery blowin' off the face of the
earth in this wind, either, as we're countin' on these pies
and cakes for the big party tomorrow!
Miriam Lantz slammed the whistling window shut. When was
the last time they'd seen such a fierce wind? Rain pelted
the roof of the Sweet Seasons Bakery Café, not quite
drowning out the troubling thoughts that had wakened her in
the wee hours. Too often these past weeks she'd dwelled upon
Bishop Knepp's vow to somehow get her out of this business
and into his home. Ordinarily it wasn't her way to fret so,
but Hiram Knepp could stir up more trouble than a nest of
ornery hornets, if he had a mind to. It hadn't made him one
bit happy, when an English fellow had outbid him to buy this
building a month ago.
Miriam sighed. It wasn't her way to start the day's
baking at one in the morning, either, but lately she'd felt
so restless . . . as unsettled as the weather they'd had all
during September. Now that she and her partner Naomi
Brenneman wouldn't lose their building—or their
booming business––she should be focused on her
daughter Rachel's wedding, set for October twentieth. Such a
happy time, because Naomi's son Micah was the perfect match
for her daughter! But even kneading the fragrant, warm dough
for the cornmeal rolls on today's lunch menu didn't settle her.
Miriam pushed the grainy dough with the heels of her
hands, then folded it over itself and repeated the process
time had so deeply ingrained in her . . . sprinkled more
cornmeal and flour on the countertop, and then rolled the
sleeves of her dress another fold higher. "Awful warm in
here," she murmured.
The oven alarm buzzed, and she pulled out six thick
pumpkin pies. As she replaced them with the large pans of
apple crisp on today's menu, Miriam paused. Was that a
horse's whinny she'd heard outside?
Not at this hour, in this storm. Who'd be fool enough to
risk life and limb––not to mention his
horse—traveling the dark county blacktop that runs
through Willow Ridge?
She inhaled the spicy aromas of cinnamon and cloves,
imagining the smiles on folks' faces after tomorrow's
preaching service at Henry and Lydia Zook's, when they
surprised the bishop by celebrating his fifty–fifth
birthday. These pies, made from her sister Leah's fresh
pumpkins, would be the first to go—but their hostess,
Lydia, had also ordered a layer cake and sheet cakes from
the Sweet Seasons for the occasion.
And if Hiram gets the notion I baked all these things
especially to impress HIM, he'd better just find somebody
else to court. And to raise his kids, too!
Miriam chuckled in spite of her misgivings. If anyone
could think of a way to dodge the bishop's romantic
intentions, it would be her and her girls! It was no secret
around Willow Ridge that Hiram's young wife, Linda, who'd
died of birthing complications, had borne more than just the
burden of being married to their moral and community leader.
While Miriam believed she could live the more upright life
required of a bishop's wife, serving as an example to their
Old Order Amish community, she had no illusions about
sharing the same house with Hiram and his rambunctious
kids—not to mention his daughter, Annie Mae, who was
in the throes of a rumspringa no stepmother wanted to deal with!
A loud crash out in the dining room made Miriam jump.
Glass tinkled over the tables and a sudden gust of wind
howled through a jagged hole in the window before the power
went out.
The bakery grew eerily quiet, what with the freezers and
the dishwasher shutting off. This storm was a reminder of
how her gas appliances at home had an advantage over the
electric ones required by the health department and
installed by the Schrocks, the Mennonite quilters she shared
her building with. Miriam was no stranger to the darkness,
as she started her baking at three every morning, but this
storm had set her on edge. And when had she ever seen a huge
tree limb on the table closest to the road?
"Lord a–mercy, what's next?" she murmured as she
warily made her way through the darkness, between the café's
tables. "Better have Naomi's boys clean this up before folks
come in for the breakfast—"
Again a horse neighed, right outside the window this time.
"Whoa, fella! Easy now!" a male voice coaxed.
A bolt of lightning shot across the sky, to backlight a
frightening silhouette of a huge percheron rearing up,
frantically pawing the air. The horse's handler stood near
the damaged tree, struggling with the reins, still talking
as calmly as he could while dodging those deadly hooves.
"Pharaoh, take it easy, fella! We'll wait out the storm
right here, so—"
But another ominous flash filled the sky and in his
frenzy, the horse tipped forward to buck with his powerful
back legs.
Miriam heard a sickening thud as those hooves connected
to a human body, and then a cry of pain and another thud
when the fellow struck the café's outside wall. The huge
percheron galloped off, whinnying in terror, its reins
flapping behind it.
Things got very quiet. Only the patter of the rain and
some rapidly retreating hoof beats punctuated the darkness.
Miriam rushed to unlock the café's main door, afraid of what
she might find: her husband, Jesse, had been trampled to
death by a huge stallion that spooked while Jesse was
shoeing him, so frightening images rushed through her mind
as she stepped outside.
The poor man lay sprawled against the foundation of her
building. She considered herself a fairly stalwart woman,
able to heft fifty–pound bags of flour and such, but
for sure and for certain she wouldn't be moving this
stranger—
Best not to shift him around anyway, she reasoned, noting
that his head was up out of the puddles. Should she find
something to cover him, and then call for help? Or hurry
straight to the phone shanty in the back? Best to call 911
and then . . . but what if he got kicked in the head? What
if he's not gonna come around?
Miriam hesitated but a moment. If the fellow was
unconscious, at least he wasn't in pain, and if he was
already gone, well, the paramedics had better come to make
sure of that. She started back inside but before she reached
the door, the man groaned loudly.
"Don't try to stand up! Ya got kicked mighty hard, by the
sound of it." Miriam sensed that he, like most injured
fellows, would ignore a woman's instructions, so she
hunkered down beside him. The cold rain soaked through her
kapp and the back of her dress, but that was a minor
discomfort compared to what her visitor must be feeling.
"Where'd he kick ya? A horse that big—and that
scared—could've killed ya, easy."
The fellow winced, shifting. "I should've known better
than . . . just wanted to get one town farther along, ya
know?" he rasped. "Should've just stayed with my wagon
instead of thinkin' Pharaoh would get over bein' spooked by
this lightning. Smarter than I am, that horse is."
Miriam looked all around. She moved closer, under the
eaves, where she wouldn't get quite so wet. "What kind of
wagon are we talkin' about?" she asked. Maybe this man was
half out of his head after being kicked so hard. He had the
nicest voice, though. And even if he was in
horrible–bad pain, he was thinking of his horse's welfare.
"Smithy wagon. I'm a travelin' farrier." He looked at her
then, gingerly rubbing his chest. "Lookin' to find some
reasonable land for a mill, so's I can settle down. I came
to these parts on account of the rapids I heard about on the
river."
Miriam's heart played hopscotch in her chest. "A
travelin' blacksmith?" she asked in a thin voice. "We've got
an empty smithy right behind the café building here.
Belonged to my Jesse, but he's passed now, and . . ."
Had she said too much? It wasn't her way to speak of her
widowed state to strangers, yet this fellow seemed willing
to reveal his own hopes and dreams to her. So what could it
hurt?
"I'm sorry to hear that, ma'am." He inhaled, testing the
pain in his chest. "Ya know, I think I if I could sit up
against the building—"
"Here, let me help ya!"
"––and draw a few gut, deep breaths to clear
my head—"
"Don't try to stand up just yet!" Miriam knew she sounded
like a mother hen clucking instructions, but she didn't want
him falling over, did she? "If ya can wait here, I'll call
the ambulance and—"
"You'll do no such thing!" He grabbed her arm, and then
managed a tentative smile despite the rain that soaked him.
His other hand remained on his chest, massaging where the
horse must've kicked him. "A fella in my line of work gets
some sense knocked into him every now and again. Probably a
gut thing."
Oh, but that smile and his touch set the butterflies to
fluttering inside her! Miriam drew back, and he released her
arm. She chuckled nervously and he joined her, a happy
sound, even if the thunder still rumbled around them. "All
right then, since you're a man and you'll do as ya please
anyway, can I at least bring ya out a chair to pull yourself
up with?" she asked. "Better than sittin' in this puddle,
ain't so?"
"Right nice of ya to look after me this way."
Miriam scurried inside and grabbed a sturdy chair from
the nearest table. Part of her wanted call the Brenneman
boys––her Rachel's fiancé Micah would be here in
two shakes of a tail––yet she craved some time
with this stranger. She told herself she was giving him a
chance to recover before anyone else saw him in this sorry
state—
"If ya don't mind my drippin' on your floor, I'll just
rest here for a few."
Miriam jumped. Why wasn't she surprised that the man had
already stood himself up and come in without her help? He
eased into the chair she'd pulled out.
"I'd ask what ya were doin' here at this crazy hour, in
the pitch dark," he murmured as he looked around, "but I
guess that's none of my business. I've got to tell ya,
though, it smells so gut I must've passed through the pearly
gates and into heaven."
Miriam laughed again in spite of her agitated state. "I'm
bakin' pies and decoratin' cakes for the bishop's surprise
party tomorrow. Getting the day's breakfast and lunch
started, too," she replied. "Welcome to the Sweet Seasons
Bakery Café. Can I get ya some coffee, or—"
"Seems Pharaoh knew more about where to drop me off than
I gave him credit for." Her visitor leaned toward her,
smoothing the wet hair back from his face. "I'm Ben Hooley,
by the way, originally from out around Lancaster County. I
appreciate your takin' a chance on a wayfarin' stranger."
"And I'm Miriam Lantz. So I guess we're not strangers
now, ain't so?"
And where had such boldness come from? Here they were in
the dark without another soul around, chatting like longtime
friends. At three in the morning, no less!
Oh, the bishop's not gonna like this! Not one little bit!
The fellow extended his hand, and as Miriam shook it the
kitchen lights flashed on. The refrigerators hummed, and for
a moment she could believe it was the little spark of
electricity passing from his hand to hers that had restored
the building's power.
Ben's laugh filled the empty dining room. "Well, now.
What do ya think about that?" He looked around, smiling.
"The Lord's watchin' over me for sure and for certain,
bringin' me here to your place on such a nasty night. A port
in a storm. Just what I've been needin' for a while."
Miriam smiled at that . . . at the sound of his mellow
male voice and the way it seemed to make itself at home in
her little café. Then she blinked, remembering the reality
of this situation: she knew nothing about this Hooley
fellow, except that his clothes and speech announced he was
Plain and that he'd been kicked by his horse. But now that
he was recovering, and the power was back on in her
kitchen—
"If you'll point me toward a broom, I'll clean up this
mess and get that branch back outside where it belongs," he
offered. "It's the least I can do, seein's how ya got me in
out of the rain."
She'd been so busy following the lines of his
clean–shaven face when he talked, she'd made a fool of
herself: there was a huge section of maple tree covering two
of her tables and she'd all but forgotten it. "Oh, but ya
surely must be too sore to be heftin'—I can get a
couple of our fellas—"
"Comes a time when I can't move that tree limb or push a
broom, ya better just bury me." Ben scooted to the edge of
his chair and slowly stood up, testing his balance. "See
there? I'm gut as new. A little soggy but movin' around's
the cure for that, and a way to keep from getting stiff, too."
Miriam didn't know what to say . . . didn't think it
proper to examine his chest, even if he probably had a huge,
hoof–shaped bruise where his horse had kicked him. It
was the first time she'd been alone with a man since Jesse
had passed—except for Bishop Knepp, and she'd ducked
out of his embrace––so she felt acutely aware of
Ben's broad shoulders and how his wet shirt clung to them.
He was a slender fellow but muscular––
And what business do ya have gawkin' at him? He can't be
thirty yet. More Rhoda's age than yours!
Thoughts of her grown daughters––how they'd
be here with Naomi in a couple of hours to prepare for the
breakfast shift––steadied her resolve. She
smiled at Ben but she stepped back, too. It wasn't proper
for an Amish woman to behave this way even when no one was
watching—except God, of course. "If you're up to that
sort of work, I'd be grateful, as I've got my bakin' to get
back to," she replied. "But if ya feel woozy or short of
breath, like ya need a doctor—"
"Your kindness has already worked a miracle cure,
Miriam. Right nice of ya to set aside a few of the Old Ways
to help me out."
Had he read her mind? Or did he just know the right
things to say? A traveling blacksmith surely knew all sorts
of ins and outs when it came to making deals for what he
needed . . .
And what sort of fellow, in a trade every Old Order
Amish family relied upon, didn't settle in one community?
And if Ben knew about the rapids in the river, what else had
he checked up on? What if he was making up this story as he
went along, to gain some advantage over her––or
whomever he met up with––in Willow Ridge?
And what if you're spinning all this stuff out like a
spider, about to catch yourself in a web of assumptions?
Just because he's got a nice smile––
He did have a nice smile, didn't he? Miriam quickly
fetched a broom and dustpan from the closet, relieved that
Ben had already stepped outside to see about pulling the big
tree branch from her window. She set the tools where he
would find them and then returned to her kitchen, where the
lights were brighter and the serving window served as a
barrier between this good–looking stranger and her
work space.
Jah, he is gut–lookin'. And that's not his fault,
is it?
Miriam laughed at herself. No, Ben Hooley's looks and
manner were gifts from God, same as the way Rachel, Rhoda,
and Rebecca favored their handsome dat.
"And what do ya think of all this, Jesse?" she
whispered. Every now and again she asked her late husband's
opinion, or thought about how he would have handled
situations she found herself in, even though her confidence
had increased a lot during these past months of successfully
running her business.
Miriam stood quietly at her flour–dusted work
table . . . just letting the hum of the appliances and the
aroma of spicy pumpkin pies kept her company.
Wait for the promise of the Father.
She blinked. Was that still, small voice she relied upon
for guidance––be it Jesse's or
God's—implying the heavenly Father might have made a
promise to her? And that He was about to keep it? As glass
tinkled onto the cafe floor and that tree branch disappeared
out the gaping hole in the window, she wondered if this had
been a providential morning. Meant to be, for both her and Ben.
For sure and for certain, this stranger was giving her a
lot to think about.
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