Christmas Comes to Morning Star

by Charlotte Hubbard

  But he had two sons and a father to look after. He couldn’t burden Marietta and Molly with caring for his family, because he was already too deeply indebted to them.

  So he got up. He took a deep breath. And somehow he convinced himself he could make it through the evening until it was time to collapse in bed, hopefully to sleep. As Glenn approached the back door, he prepared himself for the tongue-lashing he deserved because he’d arrived so late and—

  When he stepped into the mudroom, however, a savory aroma wafted around him. The light from the kitchen soothed him, and the furnace’s warmth eased the tension he’d been holding in his shoulders. As Glenn removed his coat, he saw that the table was set for five—shiny white plates on a blue gingham tablecloth, with the silverware neatly arranged at each setting.

  Such simple things, yet they’d been missing from his life, because with their women gone, he and Dat hadn’t bothered with such niceties.

  “Hey there, Glenn!” Molly said as she entered the kitchen. “Bet you fellows got a lot done on your—oh, what happened to your hand?”

  Glenn looked at his stinging palm as though it belonged on someone else’s body. He’d scraped it worse than he’d thought—but he wasn’t about to admit that he’d fallen on the walkway. Before he had to conjure up a story, however, Molly joined him in the mudroom and pointed at the big sink.

  “You’ll want to scrub that wound,” she suggested, holding up a bar of soap. “And a splash of this peroxide will sting like the dickens, but it’ll flush out the grit—and keep the cut from getting infected. Take your time. Marietta’s coaching Billy Jay on his part in the school’s Christmas Eve program.”

  Glenn blinked. Molly was being so patient with him. Marietta was working with his son—something he’d had precious little time to do since Dorcas and Mamm had passed. And supper smelled so heavenly, his mouth was watering.

  He swallowed hard. “Denki, Molly. You girls are angels.”

  Molly chuckled. “No, Billy Jay is the angel—at least in the school program. My sister and I are just ordinary, everyday women getting from one day to the next, doing what needs to be done.”

  As he turned on the faucet, Glenn nearly wept with the gratitude that welled up inside him. He knew such an emotional upheaval came from being exhausted and overwhelmed, yet it also occurred to him that he hadn’t felt so thankful in a very long time.

  Maybe that’s part of my problem. Maybe I’ve been so focused on my losses, I haven’t noticed the gifts that God—and my friends—have given me every single day. In sunshine or shadow.

  When he’d dried his hands, he poured some peroxide directly onto his scraped palm. It did sting, but as the white foam appeared in the tiny lines of his irritated skin, Glenn felt a cleansing—a sense that impurities were indeed being released.

  He blotted his palm with the towel and passed through the twins’ kitchen, zeroing in on the little-boy voice in the front room. Glenn stopped in the doorway, mesmerized.

  Marietta sat on the sofa, cradling Levi in the crook of her arm as she held a bottle of goat milk to his lips. Beside her, Billy Jay lay stretched out on the rest of the couch with his head on its arm and his sock-covered feet on her leg. His eyes were closed in concentration as he spoke in a halting voice.

  “‘And there were in the same country . . . shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night.’”

  “Jah, you’ve got the words right,” Marietta remarked with a nod. “Now say them again, and make shepherds the most important word. And then tell me who showed up and scared them.”

  Billy Jay clapped his hands to his head, straining with the effort of memorization. Glenn knew his boy’s pain: he vividly recalled having to learn passages of Scripture for the Christmas Eve program, and he’d never been good at it.

  “‘And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night,’” Billy Jay repeated. “‘And lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and’ . . . um—”

  “‘The glory of the Lord,’” Marietta prompted softly.

  “Oh, jah—‘the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were so afraid!’”

  “‘They were sore afraid,’” she corrected gently. “That’s Bible talk, saying the shepherds were scared to death, because an angel showed up and the sky got bright, and the shepherds had no idea what was going on!”

  “This is makin’ my brains wanna spill out of my head,” the boy said with a loud sigh.

  “Put that whole section together for me, and we’ll quit for today. You’re doing a really fine job, Billy Jay. You’ve got this, sweetie.”

  Glenn felt a whole new sense of admiration for Marietta Helfing. He’d always known her to be patient and kind, yet he’d never figured her for a woman who’d spend countless hours helping a child learn Christmas Scripture—and then recite it as though it told the world’s most important story, rather than just blurting out the words to get them said.

  Glenn noticed that Dat was tilted back in the recliner, snoozing. And wasn’t that a fine sign, that he felt so comfortable in this home? Before Billy Jay caught sight of him, Glenn stepped back into the kitchen.

  Molly was pulling a blue enamel roaster out of the oven. When she opened it, a big meat loaf gave off a puff of beef-scented steam. Carrots, potatoes, and onions were arranged around it, baked to simple perfection.

  “I hope I didn’t poke my nose where it didn’t belong today, shutting down your sister,” she remarked. “What she was hinting at was so—so ridiculous—”

  “Why wouldn’t you shut her up?” he interrupted wearily. “Sadie was way out of line, and you and Pete were just calling it like you saw it. I—I’m sorry you got sucked into our ongoing drama.”

  “I’m sorry you folks even have that drama,” Molly replied without missing a beat. “That scene with Sadie really wore your dat down. At The Marketplace this afternoon, he mostly sat at one of the tables in the commons and stared at all the customers. Didn’t say two words—not even after Martin joined him.”

  “Well, at least he’s relaxed now,” Glenn remarked. “Denki for taking him and Billy Jay over there, out of the cold.”

  “Oh, we put your boy to work,” Molly said with a laugh. “He carried bags of noodles from the storeroom to replenish the shelves when they got low—and that happened a lot today! He got pretty excited when we sold out.”

  “I should say so.” Glenn could picture the scene as she described it. “I don’t suppose you had a chance to see how things were going at my wood shop.”

  “We sent Billy Jay over for a report,” she said matter-of-factly. Glancing around the countertop, cluttered with pot holders and cooking utensils, she snatched up a piece of paper. “The bishop and Lydianne sent this tally back with him.”

  Glenn skimmed Jeremiah’s precise printing, his eyes widening. “They had a great day,” he murmured. “If they sold six birch rocking chairs and all these toys, I need to get cracking to restock my store before next Saturday,” he said in a rising voice.

  Then he sighed. “But I ought to be helping at the house, because Pete and the other guys shouldn’t do all the work when it’s not even their—”

  “They’ll understand if you take time to work for your living, Glenn.” Molly held his gaze with her sincere green eyes. “If Jude had an auction to call, he’d be in the sale barn rather than working on your house. And Pete, well—you’re doing everyone a favor, keeping him busy building your new place. From what I’ve heard, Margaret’s probably enjoying a break from hearing noisy power tools in the house.”

  Glenn wasn’t sure he believed that, but he accepted it as Molly’s way of reassuring him. Wasn’t it wonderful that she wanted him to feel better about how he spent his time, now that he was homeless and wifeless and motherless?

  He sat down at the table, careful not to mess up the place setting in front of him or the clean, crisp tablecloth. As he reread the bishop’s account of all the items t
hey’d sold today, Glenn felt his tension easing away.

  His sister had expressed her opinion, but she hadn’t won. Dat had stood up to Sadie—sounding perfectly focused and rational—and his friends had supported his wish to remain in Morning Star.

  Maybe it hadn’t been such a horrible day after all.

  “Dat! You’re home!”

  When Billy Jay scrambled across the room and into his lap, Glenn held him close, inhaling his boy smell and feeling rejuvenated by his restless energy.

  At that moment, Glenn did feel at home. He didn’t want to analyze the emotions behind those words. He just accepted the way Billy Jay had said them so naturally, as though his son knew they were true.

  Chapter 11

  Pete rose from the breakfast table, suppressing a sigh: visiting Sundays drove him nuts. Now that he was living with the bishop, he couldn’t slip out in his truck to do things—or drive around with Riley for the fun of it—as he had when he’d bunked in the Helfings’ dawdi haus. He and his uncle and grandmother had eaten in a kitchen that still resembled the aftermath of a tornado, because he’d spent his week at the Detweiler place. Even though the premade cabinets Lydianne had chosen awaited him in the barn, there would be no fudging on the no-work rule. Uncle Jeremiah took the Sabbath seriously.

  Trying not to appear bored out of his mind, Pete went to the picture window in the front room. As he absently scratched Riley’s head, he gazed out over the snow-covered fields. He prayed for a snowstorm so he’d have an excuse to go out and plow roads—even if his uncle made him hitch the V blade to the horse rather than use the new blade on his truck.

  At the sight of a rig coming up the lane, he brightened. “Company’s coming,” he called out.

  “Jah, that would be Glenn,” Uncle Jeremiah remarked as he joined Pete at the window. “I suggested he come over for a counseling session here, where the rest of his family and the Helfing twins couldn’t listen in. He’s got a lot on his mind these days.”

  “He does,” Pete agreed. “Ask him about Sadie’s visit yesterday. It wasn’t pretty when she showed up at the construction site and insisted—again—that he pack up his family and move out to Indiana.”

  “Oh, my. I hadn’t heard about that.”

  “I probably should’ve mentioned it last night,” Pete murmured as Detweiler’s rig stopped in front of the house. “I’ll head upstairs so you and Glenn can talk in private. Come on, Riley—let’s go, boy.”

  As he and his golden retriever climbed the steps, Pete fought a grin. The spare bedroom next to his, where Mammi did her sewing, was directly above his uncle’s office. If he situated himself near the heat grate in the floor, he’d be able to hear most of what his uncle and Detweiler talked about—and as long as he sat absolutely still and quiet, no one would be the wiser.

  It wasn’t an honorable way to pass the time, but it was better than pacing like a caged tiger—or pretending to read his Bible. And it was a way to catch any hints that Detweiler was developing a serious crush on Molly.

  “You’ve got to be totally quiet, Riley,” Pete warned as he entered the sewing room. He winced when a floorboard creaked beneath his weight. The click-click-click of his dog’s claws was amplified by his somewhat guilty conscience.

  As Pete stooped low to sit against the bedroom’s back wall, under the extended lid of Mammi’s sewing machine cabinet, he told himself that he should leave before his uncle and Glenn began their session. Most folks swore Bishop Jeremiah had an extra set of ears and eyes, because during church, he could hear the rattle of a candy wrapper from across a large room or spot somebody’s head drifting down before they jerked awake. Pete’s chances of getting caught ran pretty high.

  But he sat on the slick floor anyway, next to the black metal floor grate with openings that allowed heat to rise from downstairs. It wasn’t the most comfortable place to sit, because the exterior wall felt slightly cold against his back and the floor was hard—and the lid of Mammi’s sewing machine cabinet extended over the top of his head, forcing him to sit hunched over.

  His grandmother was making shirts for him and Jeremiah from the same bolt of purple fabric she’d bought to make herself a new dress—and some of the cutout pieces hung over the edge of the lid. Pete had been careful not to bump them with his head, because if Mammi found them in disarray she would immediately suspect someone had been snooping where he didn’t belong.

  When he heard voices in his uncle’s office, Pete gestured for Riley to lie down. He placed a finger over his lips, looking his dog directly in the eye.

  “How’s it going for your family at the Helfing place, Glenn?” Jeremiah inquired.

  During a slight pause, Pete imagined Detweiler taking the armchair in front of his uncle’s desk while the bishop lowered himself into his wooden swivel chair—and a familiar creak confirmed his supposition.

  “What a blessing it is to be there,” Glenn replied. “Molly and Marietta have taken us in like family—”

  Pete’s eyebrows rose. Hadn’t he noticed that Molly, Reuben, and Billy Jay seemed emotionally connected as they’d left the construction site yesterday?

  “—and talk about food!” Detweiler continued with a lilt in his voice. “Molly made a big meat loaf with potatoes and vegetables last night. And when I got home, Marietta was feeding Levi on the couch while she helped Billy Jay learn his passage for the Christmas Eve program.”

  When you got home? Pete counted on his fingers to determine that Glenn had been at the twins’ place only four days, yet already he considered himself a member of the household. And the picture of domestic bliss Glenn had painted of Molly’s dinner, along with Marietta taking up where Dorcas had left off with the boys, sent a bolt of envy through him. When Pete had lived at the Helfing place, Molly’s cooking had been hit-or-miss, and Marietta had hardly noticed his presence.

  That’s because I stayed in the dawdi haus. The Detweiler tribe is getting special attention because the twins feel sorry for Reuben and the boys.

  “The Helfings are kindhearted souls,” Jeremiah agreed. “They were hesitant to have Pete and Riley around at first, but it came to the point that they spoiled him, too. Truth be told, I think they’d have kept Riley after Pete came here to live.”

  Pete’s brow furrowed—and when the dog perked up at the sound of his name, he quickly wrapped his hand around Riley’s muzzle.

  So his uncle thought the twins had spoiled him? Jeremiah was obviously unaware of Molly’s merciless teasing—and he’d forgotten about all the repair work Pete had done around the Helfing farm, too, not to mention the way he’d expanded their noodle factory.

  Glenn laughed out loud. He thought it was funny that Molly and Marietta had liked his rambunctious dog more than they’d enjoyed Pete’s company.

  “Jah, Riley’s a handful,” Glenn remarked. “He really gave my sister the what-for when she showed up at the house yesterday. Not that she didn’t deserve it.”

  “Sadie came to Morning Star?”

  “Jah, and I told her straight-out she’d made the trip for nothing.” Detweiler’s voice was rising with his irritation. “Because we’ve lost the house—and she immediately blamed Dat for the fire—she again insisted that it’s time we joined her out in Indiana.

  “Dat stood up to her, too,” Glenn continued proudly. “Told Sadie he was still the head of the family, and he wasn’t taking any of her guff. But Molly! She was having no part of my sister’s foolishness, either.”

  Pete stiffened. Even through the floor grate, Glenn’s admiration for Molly rang like a church bell.

  “Molly? Why was she involved in your conversation?” Jeremiah’s careful tone suggested the concern of a bishop for a member of his congregation, but Pete sensed he was fishing for deeper information. And Pete was very interested in Glenn’s response.

  Detweiler let out an exasperated sigh. “Sadie suggested that because I’m staying at the twins’ place, I surely must be engaging in hanky-panky—with both of them,” he added disgustedly.
“I thought Molly was going to whack my sister with her spatula—and I would’ve cheered her on. What a woman!”

  Glenn’s enthusiastic remark made Pete jerk to attention—and as his head struck the lid of the sewing machine, he cussed loudly. Purple fabric pieces flew into the air, and Riley sprang from the floor. Breaking free of Pete’s grip, the dog barked with gleeful abandon, spinning in excited circles until he dashed out of the sewing room and down the steps.

  Pete closed his eyes as guilt dropped like a bomb. Even if Glenn hadn’t been aware of the grate in the office ceiling, he and Uncle Jeremiah had caught Pete red-handed. The bishop would insist that his errant nephew apologize, too.

  Way to go, Shetler. What are you, about ten? That was a stunt like Billy Jay would’ve pulled. So now when Detweiler tells Molly what I’ve done, she’ll be even more impressed with my maturity and sense of responsibility.

  With a sigh and a throbbing head, Pete rose from the floor. After he placed Mammi’s fabric pieces back on her sewing machine, he started for the stairway. No matter how contritely he apologized to Glenn and Uncle Jeremiah, words weren’t going to adequately express his regret.

  There’s no explaining stupidity. Anything I say will only dig me into a deeper hole.

  When he got downstairs, Pete drew in a deep breath. Mammi peered out the kitchen door, ready to quiz him about the ruckus—but his taut expression silenced her. She was well aware of his tendency to act first and think later, so she stood with one eyebrow raised as Pete approached his uncle’s office.

  Seated behind his desk, Uncle Jeremiah met Pete’s gaze with dark brown eyes that had always pinpointed people’s wayward tendencies. He didn’t say a word.

  Glenn appeared startled—and wary—when he looked over his shoulder at Pete, who’d paused in the doorway.

  “I’m sorry I disrupted your session,” Pete blurted. “Eavesdropping on your conversation was a thoughtless, juvenile thing to do. Please forgive me.”

  Detweiler’s dark eyebrows rose, as though he’d never expected to hear a plea for forgiveness coming from the likes of Pete. Or maybe he still didn’t know about the heat grate.