“Oh, we’re in for it now,” the voice said. “The alarm’s gone off. Get down!”
But the undulating weight on his arm, pressing hard in two places, suddenly became too sharp to tolerate. Pete’s eyes flew open, and his loud gasp was greeted by yet another soaking from that rough, wet piece of—
Riley! A furry, golden face swam before Pete’s eyes. A cold nose pressed his cheek, and those eager brown eyes sought his gaze—and the pressing of two bony, muscular legs suddenly made sense. Still, the pain was so intense, he was seeing stars, but he couldn’t seem to move out from under it or form the words or—
“I see we have a guest,” a different voice said, sounding male and stern and authoritarian.
“Pete’s coming around!” the first voice said. “Look—his eyes are open and he’s trying to talk and—”
“Miss, if you don’t get that dog off the bed, I’ll have to call security.”
Pete frowned. He wasn’t yet sure what security was, but nobody talked to his dog in such a tone! “No!” he rasped. He wasn’t sure why his throat felt as though it were lined with sandpaper, but he tried again. “No! My—my dog!”
A familiar face appeared before his, and its owner was grinning despite her efforts to get Riley’s big front legs off of him. “Now you’re talking, Shetler! You go, guy. Riley and I will wait right here while your nurse checks you over.”
Nurse? Pete again racked his befuddled brain for the concept that went with that word—wasn’t it a medical term? Why would a nurse be here, unless he was in—
“Good morning, Pete,” the man said, leaning over to study him more closely. “It’s good to see you awake. How are you feeling?”
“Hurts!” Pete wheezed.
“Of course it does. Your dog was jumping all over the arm you had surgery on. Let’s check your monitors here . . .”
Surgery? Monitors? Pete blinked, trying to clarify the conversation that was still whizzing past him much too fast. At least this nurse guy had turned off the alarm, so his nerves weren’t quite so a-jangle.
“Okay, Pete, open your eyes wide. Sorry about the bright light.”
The air left his lungs in a rush when the nurse flashed a light into each of his eyes. After that ordeal was over, he wanted to complain about the way the nurse was roughing him up, checking the bandages—
Bandages? When he slowly moved his head for a better view, Pete realized that his bad arm was wrapped almost entirely in white—and so was the leg that hurt as if a chainsaw was cutting into it every time the nurse placed his hand on it.
“Ahhh! Stop!” he cried out. “Just leave me alone!”
The nurse cracked a smile. “I’ll put in a request to your doctor to increase your pain meds now that you’re back to making demands, Mr. Shetler. That’s a good sign. We know a patient’s on the road to recovery when he starts complaining.”
The nurse took a clipboard from the foot of the bed and spent the next several moments scribbling on it. Pete’s head was starting to throb so badly that the scratching of the guy’s pen on the paper was driving him insane—but finally the nurse replaced the clipboard.
“I’ll tell the doctor you’ve come around,” the nurse said in an efficient-sounding voice. “Meanwhile, take it easy while you chat with your girlfriend and your dog. Keep it off the bed,” he added, focusing on the person waiting near the wall.
As the nurse left the room, Pete immediately felt better. But girlfriend?
He was trying to process the words that didn’t yet make sense when a face appeared several inches above his. Pete realized this face was female—much friendlier and cuter than the nurse’s—but he was at a loss for a name. Her green eyes glimmered as she studied him.
“Oh, but it’s gut to see you awake,” she said softly. “Your eyes might be the color of manure, Shetler—probably because you’re full of it—but it’s so gut to see them open again! When you fell off the roof yesterday, you sent all of us into a tizzy, you know. Sit, boy!” she added, leaning down to better control Riley.
When she laughed, the musical sound tickled Pete’s senses, and he immediately felt better. And when she softly kissed his cheek, his whole body shot into overdrive. His pain was still intense, but her affection made him momentarily forget how badly he hurt all over.
“I’ll let you rest now. We’ll be back after your pain meds have had a chance to work,” she said gently. “Your uncle Jeremiah—and everyone else—will be so glad to hear you’re awake, Pete.”
She tightened her grip on Riley’s leash, convincing his dog they had to leave. Pete turned his head slowly to watch them go. He desperately needed to sleep, yet he was wishing these guests would stay with him.
The woman turned when she reached the door. “I love you, Shetler, but don’t let it go to your head,” she said in a loud whisper. Then she was gone.
Pete blinked. That was . . . that was Molly! That was Molly!
He sank back into an exhausted stupor, yet he felt euphorically happy. Now that he was alone again, he could puzzle over the rest of the words he’d heard this morning and piece together what had happened to him—right after he took a nap.
* * *
At the supper table, Molly launched into the story about sneaking Riley into Pete’s hospital room, feeling immensely relieved and happy. Billy Jay’s eyes lit up—probably because he adored her sense of adventure and he, too, would’ve broken the rules to make Pete feel better.
Yet by the end of her tale, Molly became aware of a heaviness in Glenn’s expression—and of the way her sister was pasting on a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. Reuben was the only one of them who seemed to be appreciating the bowl of ham and beans in front of him, and even so, he seemed lackluster.
Molly spread butter and jelly on her corn bread. “So, how’d it go at the house today?” she asked carefully. “Everything all right?”
An awkward silence lasted a beat too long before her twin replied.
“I mixed up a double batch of noodle dough when I got home,” Marietta said softly. “How about you and I roll it and cut it this evening, to make up for some of the time we’ve missed out in the factory this week?”
“Jah, you girls are excused as soon as you’ve finished your dinner,” Reuben put in kindly. “We guys can redd up the kitchen so you can catch up on your work. This’ll be your last Saturday before Christmas, and you’ll want to be ready for the crowd at The Marketplace, ain’t so?”
“That’s very thoughtful of you,” Molly murmured.
When Marietta rose from the table moments later, not even glancing at the cherry pie on the counter, Molly realized how upset her sister was. They slipped into their barn coats, and she wasted no time quizzing her twin as they headed outside to their little white factory building.
“All right, spill it, sister,” she said as Marietta flipped on their gas ceiling lights.
When Marietta turned to face her, she wore an odd expression. “Glenn asked me to marry him today. I said no.”
Molly’s jaw dropped. Given time, her sister would elaborate, so Molly stepped over to her workstation and removed the plastic wrap from the big bowl of noodle dough Marietta had made. Judging from the amount of dough they both had, her twin had spent the entire afternoon running the mixer—and she intended to be up half the night cutting noodles.
“It was the most awkward moment of my adult life, I think,” Marietta began with a sigh. “Once the other men were digging into their lunch, Glenn offered to show me the house. When he asked whether he should choose hardwood floors or vinyl for the front room, I said that wasn’t my decision because it wasn’t my home. Then he said it could be.”
Molly nodded, sensing exactly how hopeful her twin must’ve felt at that moment. “So you knew what he was working up to, jah?” She flipped the power switch for her roller and slowly pressed a block of dough through its wheels to flatten it.
“Oh, there was no mistaking Glenn’s intention. He said he had words on his heart that he just had to say,” he
r sister continued in a rush. Her hands were moving with frenetic tension as she, too, pressed dough through her roller. “To keep the guys in the kitchen from listening in on us, I crossed the front room and started up the stairs. My word, but the woodwork in that house is glossy and flawless. That’s the most beautiful newel post and railing I’ve ever seen.”
“Of course it is,” Molly remarked, carefully guiding the sheet of dough down the length of her table. “That’s what Glenn does best, after all.”
“Well, he’s also had a lot of practice at proposing!”
Molly’s eyes widened. Sensing how shaken Marietta was by the day’s events, she once again allowed her sister to continue her story at her own pace.
“Don’t you remember how he cornered Lydianne by the dessert table at Elva’s funeral lunch and declared—in front of God and everybody—that if she’d marry him, he’d have a life again?” Marietta blurted out. “That was only a couple of months ago, jah? And he’d been hounding Lydianne before that, too—not all that long after he lost Dorcas.”
Molly recalled everything her sister was recounting. She carefully ran her sharp knife along her length of damp dough, cutting strips as she again gave her twin the silence she needed.
“After I—I listened to him bemoaning his desperate days and endless nights, I told him I was not desperate,” Marietta said resolutely. “I said I have a life I love and a way to support myself, so the only reason I will ever marry is because a man makes me deliriously happier than I already am.”
She let out a sigh that filled the noodle factory. “So now, of course, I’m wondering if I’ll be sorry for turning him down. It’s not like I’ve got men lining up to—”
“You said exactly the right thing, Marietta, and I’m proud of you.”
Molly set aside her knife and went over to Marietta’s worktable. The gaps and tears in her sister’s rolled-out dough attested to how jittery she was. When Marietta stepped into her arms, Molly wasn’t surprised that her twin’s slender shoulders were shaking.
“I guess I hadn’t thought about the timing on all this stuff with Glenn, but you’re right,” Molly murmured. “He needs to be absolutely sure what he’s doing and who he wants to spend the rest of his life with. I’d hate to see either one of you figure out—after the knot was tied—that you’d made a big, permanent mistake.”
Sniffling, Marietta nodded. “Glenn’s such a nice man—”
“Jah, he is.”
“—and I love those little boys to pieces—”
“Jah, you do.”
“—but . . . well, I want him to marry me, Molly,” Marietta continued with a hitch in her voice. “For who I am, instead of because he needs someone to take up where Dorcas left off. I could never fill her shoes, and I don’t want to!”
“Gut for you! You did the right thing for the right reason.”
Marietta eased away, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. “It means a lot, hearing you say that,” she whispered. “I knew that of all the people on God’s gut earth, you’d never tell me something just because I wanted to hear it. Denki, sister.”
Molly blinked away the tears that sprang to her eyes. “You’d do the same for me, Marietta,” she pointed out. “We’ve always depended upon each other, and—and if we do happen to get hitched, that won’t change.”
Her twin studied her face, her green eyes glimmering in the workroom’s subdued lighting. “Something tells me you have more news than you’ve been sharing, Miss Molly,” she said with a lift in her voice. “Besides Pete’s waking up, what else happened in that hospital room today?”
Molly hugged her twin before returning to her worktable. “It’s not so much what happened today—although I did tell him I loved him, and not to let it go to his head. He was still groggy enough that I doubt he’ll remember that part.”
Marietta’s eyes widened. “What else has happened, then? Sneaking Riley into his room was a stroke of genius, but there’s more to this story, ain’t so?” she demanded playfully. “You haven’t said two words about what went on after you left the Hartzler place Sunday in Pete’s truck.”
Molly shrugged, savoring the deliciousness of her secret a little longer. “Maybe you’re not the only one who got a very special birthday card that day,” she hinted.
“Pete popped the question, didn’t he? In a homemade card?”
“Not quite. He let it slip that he wanted us to get hitched, however—and he presented some plans for remodeling our house,” she admitted. “Pete was under the impression that Glenn had been making a play for me and that I was falling for it. So he was enticing me with his renovation sketches.”
“Plans for remodeling our house?” Marietta switched off her dough roller, gazing intently at Molly. “What sort of things does our Mr. Shetler have in mind?”
Grinning at the curiosity that burned on her twin’s slender face, Molly took Pete’s envelope from her apron pocket. She didn’t tell Marietta she’d studied the sketches countless times over the past couple of days—or that she’d kept a rare secret from her, either. “When Pete puts his mind to it, he’s every bit the carpenter and woodworker Glenn is—”
“You’re right, Molly—but I’d never tell him that to his face,” Marietta interrupted with a laugh. “Are you telling me Pete’s finally getting serious about something? Actually applying his God-given talent to its fullest potential—because he wants to marry you and live here with us?”
“Oh, you’ll be moving into Glenn’s new house one of these days,” Molly shot back. “You’re right to make him wait awhile—and actually court you—though. Meanwhile, here’s what the bishop’s nephew has in mind for us.”
Marietta eagerly unfolded the pages, squinting at the drawings in the meager light from their gas fixtures. “What am I looking at? Is this supposed to be our kitchen? It doesn’t look like what we’ve always had—”
“Because Pete’s drawn in some ingenious updates,” Molly put in proudly. She stepped over beside her sister to point out the highlights.
“He’s put the pantry on the other side of the room and added more counter space—another block of cabinets, too—between the fridge and the sink. And instead of our lazy Susan in this lower corner, he’s installing deep shelves that make more efficient use of the space,” she said, pointing to each corresponding place on the sketch. “And won’t these roll-out shelves in our lower cabinets be fabulous? We won’t have to stand on our heads—or lie on our stomachs—anymore to dig out the stuff that’s way in the back!”
“Wow,” Marietta murmured. “I’m impressed. I don’t think Glenn’s new kitchen has these features.”
Molly shrugged. “Pete thought he had to win me away from Glenn, remember?” She pulled out one of the other sketches. “And look at the new cabinetry along the other side of the kitchen wall, in the front room. That’s a built-in corner hutch with a glass front—”
“A perfect place to put Mamm’s collection of bone china cups and saucers!”
“That’s what I was thinking, too!” Molly agreed excitedly. She flipped to another page. “And look how much more organized the mudroom will be with these shelves on the walls—”
“Instead of those heavy old cabinets that are so hard to move when we need to clean behind them,” Marietta put in. She was fighting a grin as she glanced at the other improvements. “Does this mean you’ve already said yes? I can’t imagine any carpenter agreeing to do this much work unless he knows it’s an investment in a lifetime relationship. Or unless you’re paying him for it.”
“Of course I haven’t accepted yet. We want to keep Pete motivated—give him the incentive to finish all this remodeling, right?” Molly teased. As she accepted the pages her twin returned to her, reality took the place of the dreams they’d been discussing.
“But then, who knows how long it’ll be before he’s strong enough to work again? He’s undergone some serious surgery, and he’s probably facing extensive physical therapy to regain full use of his arm
and leg,” she pointed out. “And there’s Glenn’s house to finish—not to mention the remodeling that got set aside at Jeremiah’s place when the Detweiler house burned down.”
Marietta’s face brightened. “Minor details. You will be the incentive Pete needs to recover, Molly,” she said. “I feel so much better now, seeing this proof that’s he’s serious about you—that you’ll be well cared for in this home we’ve always loved.”
“And if you decide not to hitch up with Glenn, you’ll still be living here, too,” Molly reminded her firmly. “Pete and I have discussed the fact that we twins have always done things together, so—”
“It’ll all work out. I have no doubt about that.” Marietta flipped the switch on her roller again before flashing Molly a big smile. “What a wonderful birthday we’ve had—and won’t this be our best Christmas ever, too? If we take our time with these fellows and allow these major changes to unfold according to God’s plan, I foresee happiness for both of us—even if we won’t be living under the same roof forever, jah?”
Molly focused on her dough again, fighting a grin. Marietta had just admitted that she would someday be married to Glenn, caring for those boys she adored.
It would be their best Christmas ever. They just had to have the faith and patience both of their situations—and their men—required.
Chapter 23
On Saturday, after selling a record number of cookies, breads, and pastries—and running out around two thirty—Jo placed the CLOSED sign on the doorpost of Fussner Bakery. Alice and Adeline would be serving coffee, spiced cider, and the last of the treats in the crowded commons of The Marketplace for a while yet, so Jo was allowing herself some quiet time before she cleaned up her kitchen. As exhausted as she felt, Jo was delighted that the shopkeepers had agreed not to be open on the Saturdays before and after the New Year. They all needed time off following a holiday season that had far exceeded everyone’s expectations.
As she dropped into the wooden chair at the back of her kitchen, however, Jo wondered what she’d do with herself—wondered how she’d fill her days now that she wasn’t baking to build up inventory for Saturday at the store.
Christmas Comes to Morning Star Page 20
