The Punishment
Doris’s Christmas Story #2
Brenda Maxfield
Copyright © 2019 by Tica House Publishing LLC
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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Dearest Readers,
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Contents
Personal Word from the Author
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Continue Reading…
Thank you for Reading
More Amish Romance for You
About the Author
Chapter One
My son, despise not the chastening of the Lord; neither be weary of his correction: For whom the Lord loveth he correcteth; even as a father the son in whom he delighteth.
Proverbs 3:11-12 KJV
“They’re going to vote on me in church on Sunday,” Jordan told Doris, breaking off a small branch of the young maple tree they stood under. A shower of snow fell over both of them as the tree shook in protest.
“Vote on you? What do you mean?” Doris Glick asked, fearing she already knew.
“You know what I mean. To decide my punishment.”
Doris clasped her cape more tightly around her neck, knowing it would come to this. Her beau had stolen a car and gone to prison—something she still grappled with. An Amish man in prison—her Amish man in prison? It was hardly believable, but it was true. Jordan had told her he was only out to drive to Linder Creek to buy her a present—an engagement present at that, a grandfather clock.
Even though he’d been remorseful when he’d explained it to her, it still didn’t make much sense. Why go to Linder Creek for a grandfather clock, when all the other fellows in Hollybrook either made one or bought one locally? And why the need to take a car—let alone drive a car? Despite the fact that Jordan hadn’t joined church yet, he wasn’t on his rumspringa. He could have and should have taken a bus.
Jordan freely admitted he’d made a stupid decision. But the fact that he’d made it at all bothered Doris more than she liked to admit. Yet, she had promised herself to remain loyal and faithful to him, and she was going to stand by her decision.
Besides, she loved him.
“But that’s gut, ain’t so?” she asked. “Get it over with. Then we can move forward with our plans.”
“Our plans?” he asked, gazing at her with shadowed eyes.
“Well … jah,” she murmured, wondering why he was looking at her with such doubt. Had she misread him? Weren’t they planning to go forward with their courtship?
“I assume you mean us getting married.”
His very tone made her curl back into herself. Why was he acting so strange about it? Wasn’t it understood between them?
“J-jah,” she stammered, hating the tremor in her voice.
“Us getting married ain’t going to be happening anytime soon, Doris. You might as well accept it.”
“But why not? If you fulfill whatever discipline the bishop and deacons mete out, then this whole episode will be over. Everyone can forget it even happened.”
He took one of her shoulders in a firm grip. “No one is going to forget it happened, Doris. You’re dreaming.”
“Nee, I ain’t. We’re a forgiving people, Jordan, and you know it. After this Sunday is over, the entire thing will be put behind us.”
He let go of her shoulder and shook his head. His eyes narrowed, and he studied her as if incredulous. “I never took you for a simple-minded person.”
“Simple-minded?”
“You ain’t seeing things proper-like. This ain’t so easy or simple. I was in prison, Doris. It ain’t like I had a fight with someone, or I wore the wrong clothes, or I was yearning for a tractor with a motor.”
“I know, but—”
“But nothing.” He sighed and rubbed his hand over his face, knocking his felt hat slightly askew. “I appreciate your faith, but I’m telling you, it ain’t going to be so easy. No one’s going to forget this.”
She squared her shoulders. “I think they will.”
He shrugged and sighed again. “We’ll see, then, won’t we?”
“We will.” She raised her chin and felt a wave of stubbornness fill her. Why was he being so negative? Why couldn’t he have more faith in their community?
“I think you should be getting back inside. Do your folks know?”
“Know what?”
“That you’re still seeing me?”
Doris bit her bottom lip. “I-I’m not sure. Probably. Mamm is moving about the house with an awful sour look on her face these days.”
He moaned and looked up into the branches before focusing on her again. “Then maybe we should stop seeing each other for a while. Take a break. I don’t like you getting in trouble on account of me.”
Her eyes widened. “I wouldn’t even consider not seeing you,” she said quickly, blinking back the sudden tears that flooded her eyes. “I want you to keep courting me. I’m so happy you’re back. Promise me you won’t say that again.”
He shook his head and let his breath seep out in a low whistle. “All right. For now. But go on in before your mamm comes out here looking for you.”
Doris laughed at the very idea. “She wouldn’t do that. No matter how upset she is.”
“I know.” His eyes darkened in the growing dusk. “Ach, but it feels strange to laugh. Gut strange, though.”
“That it is,” she said quietly. She went up on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “But you’re right. I need to get back inside.”
“Jah, you do. Gut-bye for now.”
“Bye, Jordan.” She started to run off and then turned back to give him one last wave. He raised his hand in response, and then she hurried back down the road, up her drive, and into the side door of the house. She shut the door behind her and paused to catch her breath. Then she slowly took off her cape and scarf and hung them on their waiting pegs. She inhaled deeply and stepped into the kitchen.
Her mother was there, just as Doris had known she would be. “Hello, Mamm.”
Henrietta Glick turned to look at her from the sink. “Where were you?” she asked, without preamble.
“On a walk. Like usual,” Doris replied, grateful that she always took walks in the early evening, even during severe weather.
“Alone?”
Doris’s brow rose. It was not customary for parents to question their marriageable daughters too closely when they stepped out in the evening, so this was quite harsh. Doris felt trapped. She didn’t want to lie to her mother, but she also didn’t want to tell her the truth.
It turned out she didn’t need to say
a thing.
“Your silence just answered my question,” Henrietta said, her expression growing even more taut. “I thought your dat and I made our wishes clear.”
Doris bit back the retort that sprang to her lips. She needed to tread carefully. “Jah, Mamm. I think…” she paused, hoping not to anger her mother, “that the bishop will speak to the subject on Sunday.”
“I fully expect him to discipline Jordan come Sunday’s preaching service,” Henrietta answered. “But what I don’t like… Nee, what I don’t want is for my daughter’s name to be connected to his in any way.”
Doris took a step closer to her mother and softened her voice. “Can we at least wait to pass judgment, Mamm? Can’t we at least wait to see what exactly the bishop says?”
“It won’t be gut, daughter. We both know that.”
“We won’t really know anything until Sunday.”
Henrietta straightened her stance. “In the meantime, will you refrain from seeing him?”
It was Friday evening. Only two more days until preaching service. Agreeing not to see Jordan for two days was something she could do.
“I can,” she said.
Her mother let out her breath in a gush of air. “Gut. I’ll tell your father.”
“Nee, I’ll tell him.”
Henrietta’s eyes widened slightly, but she nodded. “Fine.”
Chapter Two
Doris left her mother and went straight to the front room where she knew her father would be nodding off while supposedly perusing the Farmer’s Almanac. In all truth, she didn’t think he’d read more than a few pages of it all year. But he did like to go through the pretense, picking up the paperback book, settling himself in his rocker and opening to a certain page—a page that wouldn’t be turned before his chin sank to his chest and a soft snoring sound emerged from his lips.
Sure enough, when Doris entered the room, she was completely correct. Her two brothers were sprawled out on the couch, hanging over the edge and working on a jigsaw puzzle on the floor. Her two sisters were nowhere to be seen.
“Can I talk to Dat?” she asked.
Her brothers looked up at her. “You’ll have to wake him first.”
“I meant alone.”
“You mean, you want us to leave?” her younger brother Peter questioned as if she were asking them to run barefoot in the snow all the way to Hollybrook.
“If you don’t mind.”
“Come on,” Stuart said, giving Peter’s leg a gentle slap. “We can go upstairs.”
“I don’t want to go upstairs,” Peter moaned.
Stuart rolled his eyes. “Get going, brother.”
Under protest, Peter followed Stuart from the room. Doris looked over at her father, whose eyes were now open.
“I take it this is a private conversation,” he said, wriggling to a more upright position.
Doris smiled. “I s’pose it is.”
“Well, spit it out, daughter.”
“I just wanted to let you know that I’ve agreed not to see Jordan until we find out what the bishop says on Sunday.”
John Glick pursed his lips and tugged on his beard. “But you have been seeing him since he was released, ain’t so?”
She looked down at her feet. “Jah.”
“I figured as much.” He shifted in the chair. “Thank you for telling me.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I was talking to the deacons just the other day,” he went on.
She tensed. “And?”
“It’ll be brought up this Sunday after preaching service.”
“I thought so.”
“Deacon Hezekiah ain’t none too pleased with your beau, Doris. Neither are the others.”
“I didn’t reckon they would be.”
“I don’t know what the bishop will suggest. But it is a gut thing Jordan hasn’t already joined church. It would be even worse in that case.”
“I know.” Doris’s voice was subdued. She had already joined church, and one of the main reasons for doing so was so that she and Jordan could be married. She’d expected him to join last October, too, but he hadn’t. Here is was December, working toward Christmas, and Jordan still wasn’t a member.
Of course, he’d been unavailable for the last months. She should be grateful, she knew, for the light sentence the Englisch judge had given him. Jordan had no previous record, which had gone in his favor. But now he did. Her beau had a record. She bit her lip.
But what did it matter? That was in the Englisch system, not theirs. A prison record would make no difference in their world.
Except it did. Gossip had been flying ever since Jordan had been arrested. His poor folks could hardly hold their heads up in public.
Why did you do it, Jordan? she found herself questioning for the hundredth time. She had thought that once she’d heard the whole story, she would feel better about it. But she didn’t. And she could hardly admit it to herself, but his story didn’t sit well with her. Something was off. But she wouldn’t question him. She loved him and trusted him.
She had to. She wanted to marry him.
She had a sudden urge to talk with her cousin, Matthew. A few words from him would make her feel better—they always did. Except that wasn’t exactly true. Ever since Matthew found out she’d been seeing Jordan, he’d changed. Grown sour and even sarcastic at times. Which wasn’t like Matthew at all.
Still, she found herself wanting to talk to him.
Her dad cleared his throat, and she gave a start. She looked at him apologetically. “Sorry, Dat. My mind was wandering.”
“So I noted.” Her father leaned heavily on the arms of the rocker and hoisted himself up. “I’m going to go in and talk with your mother for a spell.”
He patted her arm as he walked past her, and she turned to watch him leave. He was a steady man, her father, and not nearly as emotional as her mother. Even so, he didn’t approve of her relationship with Jordan. He didn’t have to go on and on about it. He’d made his feelings clear when Jordan had been sentenced; he didn’t need to say anything further.
Doris glanced over at her mother’s grandfather clock; the clock she’d received from Doris’s father so many years before. Its pendulum swung smoothly, rhythmically, ticking off the minutes. It wasn’t that late—only eight o’clock. It wasn’t too late to go to Matthew’s house, was it? Her aunt and uncle would welcome her.
Who was she fooling? It was much too late for a normal visit. Verna and Nathaniel would likely panic, seeing her show up at such an hour on a cold December evening. And Matthew? She swallowed. He could be out giving Annie a ride in his buggy.
Annie Hershberger. The girl Matthew had just started courting. In truth, sometimes Doris thought he’d started courting Annie to get back at her somehow. It was a ridiculous notion, but one that Doris couldn’t completely dismiss.
She supposed his motivation didn’t matter. The truth was, he was courting Annie Hershberger, and Doris needed to be happy for him. After all, Annie was a perfectly nice girl. She was pretty, too, which never hurt, no matter what the bishop said about outward appearances.
In truth, she and Annie were friends. Not close friends, like Doris was to Nancy Chupp, but friends, nevertheless.
If Doris did venture out to Matthew’s house, and if she found out he was gone for the evening, how would she feel about it? Happy, she started to tell herself, but it wasn’t true. Bothered was more like it.
There it was. She would feel bothered, and she wasn’t sure why. Had she grown so possessive of Matthew over the years that she couldn’t bear to have him put attention on anyone else?
Goodness, if that were the case, then she was a horrible person. Selfish and begrudging. Doris swallowed and sent up a quick prayer, asking for forgiveness. She let go of her silly idea of visiting at such a late hour and went upstairs to her room. She called to her brothers as she passed by their room.
“I’m done now, if you want to go back and work on your puzzle,” she told t
hem.
“About time,” Peter called through the half-open door.
Chapter Three
Matthew Wanner’s hands sweated slightly on the reins. The temperature outside was near to freezing so the fact that he was sweating didn’t go unnoticed. He took in a slow and steady breath. He was heading toward the Hershberger place, and Annie was to be outside to meet him at eight o’clock. It was their first ride together.
It would have been their second, if Doris hadn’t stuck her nose in at the last youth singing. He and Annie had it all arranged when Doris interrupted and asked for a ride home from him. Annie had bowed out graciously, and Matthew had driven Doris home.
Something he usually loved to do.
But not anymore. No. Not anymore. Doris was in love with Jordan Lehman—a fact that drove him wild. What on earth did she see in him, anyway? And why couldn’t she ever look at him with the same loving gaze she had in her eyes when she spoke of Jordan?
Matthew shook his head. Because she only saw him as her cousin, even though they were of no blood relation at all. If Matthew hadn’t been taken in by Doris’s aunt and uncle when he’d been orphaned at ten years old, he and Doris would have been free to court.
Would Doris have accepted his suit? He liked to think so. He and Doris were close, very close—or at least, they used to be. Doris had been his best friend for years and years. It was only recently that he realized he was in love with her, a revelation that hadn’t been welcome. Because what could he do with it?
Nothing. Absolutely nothing.
Which was why he was moving on. Which was why he was pursuing Annie Hershberger. He reached down to fiddle with the propane heater. The buggy was plenty toasty, and he didn’t want to blast Annie when she got in.
The Punishment (Doris's Christmas Story Book 2) Page 1
