The Christmas Courtship

by Emma Miller

  “Could you pull up a few feet?” Joshua hollered to Edom, waving at him. “We’re on our way out.”

  “I will not!” Edom shouted hostilely, coming down out of the buggy. “Who are you? What are you doing here?”

  Phoebe handed John to Bay, kissing the top of his head as she passed him off. “Go with Bay,” she whispered. “Mammi is coming in just a minute.” Covering his head with the quilt as if her great-grandmother’s stitching could somehow protect her son, she told Bay, “Put him into his car seat. Buckle him in. Do you know how to do it?”

  Shorty owned the car seat for his Amish customers because it was Englisher law that children had to be in car seats. Phoebe had never used one.

  “We’ve used them for James and Josiah,” Bay assured her.

  Bay closed the sliding door and Phoebe walked around to the front of the van.

  “Phoebe, please get in the van,” Joshua said, holding his hand out to stop her.

  “I asked you what you were—” Edom halted in the middle of his sentence when he saw Phoebe. “You,” he said in Pennsylvania Deutsch. “You weren’t supposed to come back here! Not ever.”

  “I came back for John-John,” she said. Her voice was strong despite the fact that she was shaking inside.

  “You’re not taking him!” her stepfather declared, striding toward the front of the van where Phoebe and Joshua stood.

  Edom Wickey was a surprisingly handsome man with a full head of dark hair and no gray in his beard yet. He was dressed impeccably in Sunday clothes, his wool pants and coat pressed, his white shirt pristine. He wore an expensive wide-brimmed wool hat on his head and a black cashmere scarf around his neck. Phoebe knew it was cashmere because she had heard her mother and Edom arguing over the purchase the winter before when she had tried to tell him that they could have bought wool scarves for everyone in the family for what he had spent. The argument, like all of them, ended with Edom shouting and her mother crying and then retreating.

  Edom drew so close to Phoebe that she had to steel herself to keep from stepping back. It was one of his methods of intimidating people. He always stood too close and spoke too loudly.

  “He’s my son,” Phoebe said softly. “You have no legal right to him.”

  “Legal right!” Edom exploded, sending spittle into the air. “I am your guardian, girl! I have a right to do whatever I want with you or your spawn!”

  “Edom, please!” Phoebe’s mother came running down the porch steps, wearing no coat and only socks on her feet. “Let them go.”

  “Get in the house, woman!” Edom barked. “I’ll deal with you later.”

  “Edom,” Joshua said, his voice taking on a steely tone. “Move your rig. We’re leaving.”

  “You can take her!” he spit, pointing an accusing finger at Phoebe. “But not the boy!”

  Joshua turned to Phoebe. “Get in the van. Tell Shorty to start it up.” He leaned close to her and whispered in her ear, “I give you the signal, you tell Shorty to back up, pull around and head out.”

  Phoebe grabbed Joshua’s arm, gazing into his eyes.

  “You can pick me up at the end of the lane.” He winked at her. “I’m sure I can run faster than he can in those fancy clothes.”

  Had the circumstances been any different, Phoebe might have laughed.

  “Go on.” Joshua gave her a nudge.

  “Hand over the boy and you can be on your way,” Edom ordered, slapping the side of the van with his gloved hand.

  Phoebe’s mother caught her husband’s arm. “Let them go, Edom. They’re nothing but trouble, the both of them. You said so yourself.”

  “Legally, Edom,” Joshua said, “you can’t keep this boy and you know it.”

  “Are you threatening me with Englisher laws?” Edom sputtered. “Who are you, boy?”

  “I’m Benjamin Miller’s son, Joshua Miller of Miller’s Harness in Hickory Grove, Delaware.”

  “What business of this is yours?”

  Phoebe’s mother spoke up with a trembling voice. “I think what my husband is asking is what your intention is with my daughter.”

  “My intention?” Joshua leaned so close to Edom that their noses were practically touching. “My intention is to marry Phoebe. Which means, according to our ways, John will soon be my son.” Not waiting for a reply, Joshua put his hand on Phoebe’s shoulder and gently pushed her in the direction of the van.

  Edom still stood there, seeming shocked that someone would stand up to him.

  Joshua opened the van door for Phoebe. “You best move your rig, Edom,” he called.

  Elsie left her husband’s side, hurrying toward the van door. “Take care, daughter. Know that I loved you the best I could.” Tears ran down her flushed, thin face. “And John-John. Tell him when he’s older that his grossmami loves him.”

  Tears in her eyes, Phoebe turned and threw her arms around her mother. “Try to write to me.”

  “Ya,” her mother responded. Although they both knew Edom would never allow any correspondence between them again. “Be happy, daughter. He’s a good man, your Joshua.”

  Phoebe hugged her mother again. “Ya, he is,” she whispered. “I think he loves me, Mam.”

  “And you?” she whispered in her daughter’s ear. “Do you love him?”

  Phoebe was so overcome with emotion, with thankfulness for Joshua’s help, that at the moment she didn’t even know how to answer. Because what was love? There was the romantic love, of course, the kind that made your stomach flutter. But there was also the kind of love a woman felt for a man who risked his own well-being to rescue a woman’s child. She certainly felt that love for him. She also suspected she loved him romantically. But everything was in such turmoil. How could she know for sure? But when she looked in her mother’s eyes, she knew what her answer had to be. At least to leave her mother content in knowing she and John-John would be safe and cared for.

  Phoebe forced a smile, peering into her mother’s face, knowing it might be the last time she ever saw her stepsiblings again. “I think I’m falling in love with him, Mam.”

  Elsie hugged her daughter one last time and then pushed her none too gently. “Go.”

  Joshua was right behind Phoebe as she got into the van.

  “Fine!” Edom shouted. “Take her! Take them both! But don’t ever bring them back here. A jezebel like her—”

  Joshua jumped into the van and slammed the sliding door shut, muffling Edom’s words until they were unintelligible. He leaned between the two front seats. “Can you get around him?” he asked the driver.

  “Sure can. Just have to back up a little,” Shorty told him.

  Joshua turned to Phoebe. “Get your seat belt on.” He slid into the front passenger seat as Shorty threw the van into Reverse. “Bay?” he called.

  “All buckled up. John-John, too,” she called from the back.

  Tears rolling down her cheeks, Phoebe reached for her son’s chubby hand. His eyes were round with fear and confusion, but he wasn’t making a peep.

  “What a brave boy,” Phoebe whispered. The van rocked violently as Shorty shifted into gear and they lurched forward. “We’re going home. To your new home in Hickory Grove.” She smiled at him, squeezing his warm little hand. “You’re going to like it there, sohn.”

  * * *

  By the lights along the highway, Phoebe studied Joshua in the front seat of the van. She had barely recognized him back at her stepfather’s farm. He’d seemed so much older than his years. So mature and masculine in a way she hadn’t seen him before. She had never thought she wanted to marry so she could have a man to protect her or care for her. She had been looking for those things for John, but hearing Joshua speak up that way to Edom had given her a new appreciation for the idea of having someone to care for her. And for her to have someone to care for besides children.

  Joshua s
potted her looking at him and he smiled. She glanced away, embarrassed to be caught woolgathering that way.

  It was almost ten at night and they had just crossed the state line into Delaware. In a little more than an hour, they would be safely home. Shorty was a good driver. He didn’t speed, but he kept to the timetable they had laid out that morning. There had been plenty of rest stops, though they hadn’t lingered. Shorty seemed to be as eager to return to Kent County as they were.

  Phoebe glanced at Bay in the back. She was lying across the seat, buckled in, using her black wool cloak for a blanket. Next Phoebe’s gaze moved to her son. John-John was sound asleep in the car seat, his head tilted back, his mouth slightly open. Occasionally, he moved his lips as if suckling. She smiled and lifted the corner of the quilt her mother had given her to cover him with, tucking it over his shoulder. She’d used it to wrap him up to take him into the rest stops to use the bathroom. He was only just potty trained so she was relieved he had no accidents, otherwise, he would have been wearing nothing but the quilt. She knew she should have been concerned as to what he would wear once they arrived, but she wasn’t. Rosemary would find something for him until Phoebe had a chance to make him some shirts and pants. And Bay said Rosemary kept a whole box of hand-me-down boots and shoes, and she was sure something in there would fit John’s feet.

  Phoebe glanced at Joshua again. This time he was watching her. For a moment, they just sat there, gazing into each other’s eyes.

  He had told Edom that he intended to marry her. But he’d said nothing to her on the matter on the long ride home, and suddenly she felt like she needed to talk about it. Had he said it just to satisfy her mother or anger Edom? Or was he now having second thoughts after seeing what she had come from? Compared to the life he had led with his father, the life he led now in Hickory Grove, their upbringing was very different. Maybe he wanted someone from a similar background to him.

  Phoebe heard a seat belt click and Joshua got up. “Okay if I sit there with you?” he asked quietly.

  She nodded, scooting over a little. There were three seat belts across the middle row, though with the car seat it was tight. She looked up at Joshua as he took the seat beside her.

  He had removed his Sunday hat hours ago and was now wearing the knit watch cap Rosemary had made for him pulled down over his ears. He’d also taken off his good long wool coat and laid it across the back of the van and replaced it with the gray hoodie he liked to wear. Dressed this way, he seemed more like the Joshua she knew than the one she had seen confront Edom back in New Wilmington.

  He settled into the spot beside her, leaving her between him and John’s car seat. His body was warm against hers and she had to fight the urge to rest her head on his shoulder.

  He fastened his seat belt and took her hand in his.

  Phoebe knew she should pull her hand away, but the warmth and strength of his touch felt so good. She nodded, looking up at him. She needed to ask him about what he had said to Edom and her mother about marrying her, but a part of her was afraid to do it. Her mother had put him in an uncomfortable position. What could Joshua have said, considering the circumstances? Phoebe knew it wouldn’t be fair to hold him to it.

  “How are you doing?” he asked softly.

  “Okay,” she breathed.

  He looked past her to where John-John was snoring softly in the car seat. He smiled. “He seems okay. Happy to be with his mam again.”

  “He was a little afraid at first,” she said, gazing at her son’s beautiful sleeping face. “He’s never been in a car seat before. Or a car.”

  “Never been in a car?” Joshua’s brow furrowed. “How is that possible. All the Amish I know use drivers for doctor’s appointments and visiting at any distance.”

  “He’s never been anywhere but our farm and the neighbors’ for church services,” she explained. “He was born in that farmhouse.” She pressed her lips together. “Edom liked to keep the children nearby.”

  Joshua shook his head, seeming to be trying to wrap his head around the idea. “Doctor’s appointments? Immunizations?”

  “The county sent someone out. Edom doesn’t approve of such things, but I insisted. I called and they sent out a nurse.”

  “That’s good,” he told her. “Because in Dover all our children are immunized, the same as Englisher children. We’ve heard of Amish communities where they don’t follow the same guidelines and there have been illnesses.”

  “I know,” she said quietly. She didn’t want to wake John or Bay. She needed these minutes of privacy with Joshua. “Whooping cough was a problem in our area.”

  He sighed, looking away, then back at her, still holding her hand. “You don’t have to worry about any of that now. John-John’s safe with you. Safe with us.” He squeezed her hand.

  “Joshua.” She looked up at him. “What you said when we were leaving.” She had to stop for a moment as emotion welled up in her throat. She waited until it passed and then went on, “You were put in a bad position. I want you to know I won’t hold you to it.”

  “Hold me to what?”

  She groaned. She hated that he was going to make her say it. He always wanted that—for things to be said outright. But a part of her liked it. She had loved John, but they hadn’t talked a lot. Not about important things. And there had been misunderstandings. And tears on her part because of them.

  “You told my mother and Edom that you were going to marry me. You don’t have to do that.”

  “Of course I do,” he said, raising his voice.

  She glanced over her shoulder. Bay was still asleep. As was John-John. And Shorty seemed to be paying them no mind. “You don’t,” she repeated, lowering her voice and hoping he would do the same.

  “I do,” he argued, letting go of her hand. “I have to marry you because I love you.”

  Before she could stop him, he went on, “Phoebe, I know you loved John and I can never be him. And I know you don’t love me.” He took her hand again. “But I think... No, I have faith that in time you’ll come to love me, too.” He hesitated. “Do you think you could ever love me?”

  She reached up and brushed his cheek with her hand. She really hadn’t thought she could ever love again. The feelings welling up inside were very different from the ones she had felt for John. But in many ways, looking back, those feelings for John seemed girlish and immature. These feelings she had for Joshua were... She wasn’t exactly sure what they were but she had an idea she had told her mother the truth. That she was falling in love with Joshua. And every fiber of her being wanted to tell him so. She wanted to tell him that she would marry him.

  The only thing that made her hold back was her son sleeping beside her. Her first responsibility was to John-John. “I do want to marry you,” she whispered cautiously. “But I’m not ready to say yes.”

  “You want to marry me? Really?” He sounded like a little boy so much that it made her smile.

  “I do. But I want you to get to know John-John first. You need to be sure you’re ready, not just to be my husband, but also his father.”

  “But we could still be betrothed?” he said hopefully.

  “I want to wait. Just a little longer,” she assured him. “Because I want you to be sure. And...” She hesitated. “When we do become betrothed, I want to go ahead and set a date with the bishop for the marriage. A woman my age with a child—there should be no long engagement.”

  He was quiet for a long moment, so long that she feared she’d pushed him too far. But at last he nodded ever so slightly. “I know how I feel, Phoebe. About you. About the boy. But I also understand your hesitation. We’ll wait to announce our betrothal.”

  “We’ll wait to talk about becoming betrothed,” she corrected.

  “We’ll wait to announce it,” he repeated.

  She couldn’t resist a smile. “We’ll wait,” she agreed.

 
He leaned closer to her, presenting his cheek. “You think I could get a kiss to seal the deal?” he asked playfully.

  She plucked her hand from his and crossed her arms over her chest. “I already told you, Joshua Miller. You’ll not get a kiss from me until our wedding day.”

  Chapter Nine

  Phoebe stood at the kitchen table, her arms aching as she rolled out the last bit of dough for her egg noodles. The entire table was covered with long, flat noodles hanging on drying racks made from wooden dowel rods. She lifted the heavy rolling pin, added a sprinkling of flour and rolled the pin over the dough again. The trick to making noodles was to get the dough nice and thin before cutting it into strips. It was a skill she’d learned from her mother at a young age, and her mother had learned from her mother. If you can make noodles, her mother used to say, you’ll never go to bed hungry.

  The kitchen was empty, which was unusual for late morning, but all of the women in the family seemed to be about their own business before gathering to prepare and serve the next meal. Bay was at the harness shop restocking shelves of baked goods she and Tara had made the night before. Ginger was working a shift in the back of the shop, repairing a neighbor’s harness that had been broken in a fender bender coming out of Byler’s store. Nettie and Tara had taken a buggy and gone to Fifer’s Orchard to get Granny Smith apples and visit with a friend who worked there. And Rosemary had taken her three boys, Jesse, Josiah and James, to the Fishers to deliver miniloaves of cranberry-nut bread and have a visit. After weeks of being off her feet, Rosemary’s doctor had given her permission to begin walking in a shoe with orthopedic support, and she said she felt like a caged singing bird that had finally found her way outside.

  Phoebe added a bit more flour to the dough and flipped the piece over. It was nice to have a few minutes to herself to gather her thoughts. Life had been so busy since their return from New Wilmington that she’d barely had time to catch her breath. She had John-John to care for now, plus the rest of her duties here on the farm. It was important to her that she continue to pull her weight in the house. With two more mouths for Rosemary and Benjamin to feed, it only seemed fair that she take on part of the burden of caring for such a large household. And one of the ways she could contribute was a project like this one.