An Amish Country Christmas

by Hubbard, Charlotte; King, Naomi

  As though she could read his thoughts, Mary gazed up at him. “Too bad there’s such a crowd that we’ll have to stand in back, all jammed against each other,” she teased.

  “Jah, I’ll be hatin’ every minute of this.” Bram slipped behind her, allowing Mary to lean back against him as the crowd got quiet. Teacher Frieda motioned to the youngest children, who took their places on the little stage that would make them easier to see this evening. They gave a cheerful welcome and then recited a short poem about Baby Jesus before inviting everyone to sing “Away in a Manger” with them. It was all Bram could do not to nuzzle Mary’s ear as he delighted in her sweet singing voice and a minty essence he hadn’t noticed before, but her mamm and dat were standing nearby, just on the other side of Nate and Martha.

  Then a group of middle-grade kids recited their rendition of the Christmas story, standing with solemn, nervous faces and their hands at their sides as they spoke in unison. Bram could remember facing the crowd at that age, wishing the floor would swallow him. He’d been the only boy in his class of five, and try as he might, the words to songs and poems he was to learn went in one ear and out the other no matter how much his mamm and the older girls at school had worked with him.

  Nowadays, of course, he had figured out that girls didn’t give a hoot about recitations. When he stepped into a sale barn and began his auctioneer chant, he could smile out into the crowd and coax the bids higher and higher by pausing at just the right times—gazing into the bidders’ eyes until they bought horses, Amish-made quilts, antiques, or whatever was for sale that day. Playing a crowd was a game to him now, a challenge he loved . . . just as Mary was proving to be. As she shifted against him, Bram closed his eyes, wishing the scholars would speak faster.

  Up through the grades the presentations went, sometimes combining a class or two for a skit, until finally Jacob and Joanna rose for their poem. Joanna stood with her hands clasped in front of her, resembling a red-haired angel as she spoke her stanzas, while her twin brother looked ready to bolt. But they reached the end without a hitch, and for that Bram felt encouraged. He’d worked with them, after all.

  When Mary gazed up at him with mischief twinkling in her blue eyes, however, Bram’s thoughts took a different direction. Silently she gripped his hand and led him between the folks standing in the very back of the room. The audience was watching up front, where more kids were preparing to reenact the birth of Jesus in the manger. As they slipped out into the brisk night air, Bram let out the chuckle he’d been suppressing.

  “Well, this is different,” he teased. “Just couldn’t wait any longer?” He slipped an arm around Mary’s shoulders and kissed her.

  “Too warm in there,” she whispered. “Too many people, to my way of thinking.”

  “I like your way of thinking, Mary.” Was it his imagination, or did her blue eyes seem more intense tonight as she looked at him? Her face glowed in the moonlight. She had seemed less chatty today, yet bolder and readier to play, as though last night’s incident with Uncle Abe was long forgotten. “Let’s hook up those Christmas lights and get ourselves along, shall we?”

  “Let’s do it,” she agreed.

  Bram blinked. He sensed Mary had made that remark in total innocence, yet her tone seemed . . . more knowing than he’d expected. He and other fellows who worked among English often picked up on phrases more sheltered Plain kids weren’t aware of, so he didn’t quiz her about it. He did, however, return her grins and kisses as Felix trotted along the snow-packed back roads.

  “Are ya happy, Mary?” he whispered as he pulled in behind a windbreak of huge evergreens. A nice private spot just off the road, where they’d be out of the breeze and out of sight to passers-by. He put on the brake and pulled the quilt she’d brought more closely around them.

  Her sly smile teased at him. “Jah, Bram, I’m having a real gut time,” she replied before scooting closer for a playful kiss. “Glad to be turning eighteen tomorrow, and glad you’re here to help me celebrate.”

  “Let me know if you get cold,” he hinted, his mind exploring the possibilities of other stables and private places they might hide away. He did not want them to be interrupted, now that Mary had recovered from their run-in with Uncle Abe.

  “I don’t think that’s going to happen tonight, Bram.”

  Once again her response struck him as . . . brassy. Was this the same Mary who had bemoaned her ruined reputation last night? As he pulled her close for a longer, more serious kiss, however, Bram set aside his misgivings . . . forgot all about it being a cold winter’s night . . .

  Nate bit back a grin as Martha gripped his hand. The scholars had finished their reenactment of Jesus’ birth, so now all of the kids were moving to the stage for a final carol sing with their families and guests—and the girl beside him was nodding toward the door with a purposeful smile. He wasn’t surprised that she wanted to skip out early, the way her twin had, and he didn’t balk. Now was his chance to build upon the rapport they’d reestablished today, and to prove that he wasn’t a stick in the mud just because he’d joined the church already. And it was a chance to let go of Roberta Hershberger’s betrayal of his affection once and for all.

  “Had enough of Christmas tradition for one night?” he teased as they strode toward his sleigh. Clyde whickered and stomped his big feet in greeting as Nate boosted Martha into the seat and then got in on the other side.

  “Always nice to see the program the kids have been working so hard on,” Martha replied pertly. “And didn’t Jacob and Joanna do a really gut job on their piece?”

  “They did.” He clapped the reins lightly across his Clydesdale’s back. “Geddap, Clyde.”

  “But once I got Jacob through it—I was mouthing the words along with him while he watched me, you know,” she added with a chuckle, “why, I felt like my job here was finished. I’ve got a guest to entertain.”

  Hmm. Martha didn’t seem all that caught up in the kids’ recitations when we were coaching them, Nate thought as he pulled onto the county highway. But her improved mood was a welcome change from the way their ride had gone last night, so he decided to remain open to whim, to enjoy himself with this pretty redhead. Martha had helped him stack the firewood he’d cut this morning, and as they had filled the built-in bin beside the fireplace, they’d chatted and laughed.

  She had baked special breakfast buns with a sweet glaze for Christmas morning, and had insisted he take a break and try one, along with a turtle brownie and a fabulous frosted cookie that had a piece of mint candy baked into its center. He hadn’t expected Martha to enjoy baking so much, considering how he’d met her in the horse feed aisle of the mercantile. But what man didn’t appreciate good things from the kitchen?

  “I’m still recalling how gut those cookies were this morning,” Nate remarked as Martha scooted closer to him.

  “Oh, and we’ve got plenty more where those came from,” she replied. “With Christmas being our birthday, we have all the usual goodies and Mamma makes us a chocolate coconut cake, too. Looks like a regular pan of chocolate cake until you cut it and see the yummy coconut filling in the middle! But then . . . I’m hoping to enjoy another kind of sweetness now that I’m turning eighteen,” she added quietly.

  When Nate glanced down at her, Martha’s eyes were all a-sparkle and her cheeks glowed like roses in the moonlight. He guided Clyde onto the Nissley’s Ridge road and stopped the sleigh. Here, it felt like they were on top of the world, surrounded by flawless fields of snow in the pale blue twilight, beneath a velvet canopy studded with stars. Not another soul was in sight. The wind whispered secrets in the silence.

  “Might be a little early, but I want to be the first to wish you a happy birthday, Martha,” he murmured as he reached for her.

  With the slightest twitch of her lips, Martha let her head fall back against his arm. Gone was the insistence, the pushiness she’d kissed him with before she lost her patience last night.

  “Mmmm . . .” escaped her. Then, whe
n Nate kissed her again, she opened her mouth to let him explore.

  What slow, sweet affection was this? Nate took his time sampling her, nuzzling her cheek before dipping in for another taste of her lips. It was . . . almost like he was kissing a different girl. He kept waiting for Martha to catch fire and press her mouth to his with that same impetuous insistence that had given him a lot to think about last night—that feistiness he’d been gearing up for all day. But even when he deepened his kisses, she seemed content to receive rather than to give back.

  When they started off again, Martha sighed and snuggled against him as he put an arm around her. With the jingle of the sleigh bells as an accompaniment, they exchanged an occasional comment . . . more kisses as the mood struck them. Nate was enjoying their relaxed affection, but it wasn’t nearly as exciting as having Martha come at him as though she couldn’t stop.

  “I’m sorry I got so huffy last night, Nate,” she murmured. “Don’t know what came over me, and I’m glad we’ve gotten past that. Denki for giving me this chance to make up for it.”

  Nate blinked. Rather than answer her, he listened to his instincts. “Hope you don’t mind if we head on back to the house,” he said quietly. “It’s been a while since I chopped so much wood and I’m starting to droop.”

  “You worked hard today,” she agreed. “Mamma was pleased with how you carried all those big roasting pans and so many jars of food up from the cellar, too.”

  “Happy to help.”

  When they got to the Coblentz home, he was glad the rest of the family had already gone to bed in preparation for an early morning of chores and preparing the big Christmas meal. Nate kissed his date goodnight and excused himself to brush and feed Clyde. He stalled in the barn for a while, waiting for Bram, but finally went inside and slipped up to their room.

  What was missing? Why did he feel so let down, even though this evening’s ride had been a huge success compared to last night’s? It seemed as though he’d been settling for an unfrosted sugar cookie instead of exhilarating in—

  Peppermint! Martha had reeked of it—had chewed her gum with the same energy she lavished on everything she did, but he hadn’t seen or smelled any sign of gum all day. And as Nate replayed his date’s interest in the twins’ recitation . . . the way she had baked sweet rolls and brownies as though she lived in the kitchen—and then indulged him with samples . . . the passive way she had allowed him to kiss her . . .

  Well, all these little differences could mean only one thing.

  He was still awake when his younger brother came in, whistling under his breath as though he’d had the time of his life. Nate lit the lantern on the bedside table and crooked his finger for Bram to come to his bunk.

  “Now what?” his brother whispered, searching his face. “Don’t tell me you struck out two nights in a row.”

  “We’ve been had, Bram.”

  His brother’s dark eyebrows rose like question marks. “And what’s that supposed to mean? Mary was her sweet, loveable self and we had ourselves quite a nice—”

  “Jah, she was,” Nate murmured, his heart hammering. “But Mary was with me. And the more I’ve thought about it, the more I believe they switched on us this morning, before you went to the barn and I chopped the wood.”

  “Get out! What makes you think—”

  Nate shushed his brother’s outburst with a finger, gesturing toward the wall between their beds and the girls’ room. “Martha wouldn’t go on and on about how the twins did at the program tonight,” he said, “and she wouldn’t have been so happy in the kitchen, baking buns and cookies all morning. Didn’t you notice any difference in the way your girl was kissing you?” he continued in an urgent whisper. “That was the big give-away. Martha went after it with a vengeance—and a wad of peppermint gum in her mouth last night—and tonight it was like you’ve said. Mary was her sweet, loveable self.”

  At least his brother had the decency to look sheepish for not noticing. But as Bram reviewed his day choring in the barn, and then his ride tonight, he allowed that possibly the twins had pulled a switch on them. “Who’s to know, just from looking at them?” he protested in a strained whisper. “They dress alike, and they look identical right down to the freckles on their perky little noses. Even Uncle Abe can’t tell them apart, and he’s known them all their lives.”

  “I’m right, little brother,” Nate muttered. “You just don’t want to admit it.”

  “So what’re you gonna do about it?” Bram challenged. “I sure hope you won’t get all bent out of shape while we’re havin’ such a gut time here. If you and I were twins, we’d probably pull the same stunt now and again.”

  At ten or twelve, maybe. But not at eighteen.

  Long after his brother put out the lamp, as the old house creaked and settled in the night, Nate remained awake. He couldn’t let go of the way Mary and Martha had behaved, when they could have simply suggested changing partners—especially considering that they had done the choosing from the start. It was Mary who had climbed into Bram’s buggy, most likely after consulting with Martha on her cell phone.

  How long did the twins intend to continue their charade? Had they no consideration for his and Bram’s feelings? Even if this was just meant to be a little Christmas diversion lasting a few days, it galled him that girls from a respected Amish family had played them for fools. It also reminded him of the way Roberta had betrayed him, seeing other fellows after he’d declared his intention to marry her and had joined the church. To the Coblentz girls, their switch had probably seemed like a harmless game, but he had no stomach for such dishonesty in another relationship.

  Nate kept his face toward the wall when he heard Bram get up and slip into his clothes, ready for breakfast. Then he dressed, stuck his clothes into his duffel, and went downstairs with a heavy heart but a firm resolve. He didn’t change his mind when everyone around the table stopped talking at the sight of his scowl and his luggage.

  “I—I thank you for your hospitality,” he said, nodding to Amos and Nell, “but I’m going home to spend Christmas with my family. It was gut to meet you all.”

  The twins sprang from their seats. “But Nate, we’re just now starting to celebrate our birthday—”

  “And it won’t be the same without you here, when we were counting on the four of us—”

  Who had spoken first, and who had followed up? Mary? Martha? He met their gazes briefly but he didn’t reply.

  Amos cleared his throat. “I hope you haven’t gotten word that someone’s ill, or that something’s gone wrong in Willow Ridge. It was our pleasure to meet you boys.”

  Nate pressed his lips together, exchanging a glance with his brother, who looked anything but happy. He had to at least give a reason for his departure, because lame excuses would make him as guilty of duplicity as the twins had been. “No, things are fine at home, far as I know. Sorry to leave on a sour note, but . . . I didn’t like it much that while I thought I was with Martha last night, it was really Mary.”

  He went out the back kitchen door toward the stable then, relieved that none of the Coblentzes followed—and not surprised that Bram didn’t join him. This was his own issue to deal with, after all, not his brother’s. When he hitched Clyde to his new sleigh, he tossed the harness strap with the bells under his seat, so their merry jingle wouldn’t mock him the whole way home. With a last glance at the cozy white house and the smoke curling out of its stone chimney, Nate sighed.

  “Let’s go, Clyde,” he said sadly. “Just you and me, buddy.”

  Chapter Eight

  “So what’s this I’m hearing, girls?” Amos asked in a low voice. He looked steadily at his two older daughters as they sat with their heads bowed. “Is it true, what Nate said? Did you mislead your guests about which one of you was Mary and which one was Martha?”

  Bram sat silently, not looking at the twins in their moment of truth. It wasn’t his place to stick up for them, or to interfere in this conversation. And what would he say? W
ould he appear stupid if he admitted he hadn’t noticed the difference last night? Would these folks—or his brother—think him disloyal if he didn’t follow Nate back to Willow Ridge? Owen, Noah, and the younger twins remained quiet as they watched this discussion with interest, but Nell’s expression had lost its Christmas morning cheer.

  “Answer your dat,” she said. “We’ll not eat until we’ve gotten the whole story.”

  The twin across from him cleared her throat. “Jah, we did that,” she said in a tiny voice.

  “But only after we heard Nate and Bram telling each other some mighty tall tales about their dates with us on Friday night,” her sister blurted.

  Bram’s face prickled with heat. He and Nate had engaged in some brotherly bragging . . .

  “So you’re also saying you eavesdropped on their conversation?” Amos asked tersely. “Put a glass against the wall of their room, did you?”

  When he peered from beneath his eyelashes, Bram saw how the girls’ faces were nearly the same red as their Christmas dresses. Down the table he heard fidgeting and a snicker.

  “Oh, but you’re gonna get it now,” Joanna murmured.

  “That’ll be enough out of you, missy,” Nell declared quietly. “Girls? We need to hear you say it out, what you did, so we’ll all know what you’ll be asking Bram to forgive you for. You should be ashamed, treating your company that way.”

  “Thought we had this discussion about your fooling folks enough times when you were wee girls to get that out of your systems,” their father went on sternly. “It’s not a topic meant for our Savior’s birthday, either, but I won’t have this cloud hanging over our heads until tomorrow.”

  The redhead across the table looked at Bram with tear-filled eyes. “I—I’m sorry I pretended to be Mary yesterday,” she stammered.