An Amish Country Christmas

by Hubbard, Charlotte; King, Naomi

  Vernon’s eyes widened. “My word, I’ve fallen behind even though I’ve only been away from home a day.”

  “I heard all about this a couple days ago, when Nate and Bram said they were ready to take their instruction for joinin’ the church,” Tom explained. “And comin’ on the heels of Hiram gettin’ the boot, this was the best kind of news for all of us. It’s too bad the kids won’t live in either of our districts, but they’re findin’ God’s way for their lives. Keepin’ the Plain family order instead of jumpin’ the fence.”

  “A blessing, for sure and for certain.” Jerusalem started the succotash around again. “And it sounds like the Coblentz family’s bein’ just as supportive as Leah and Dan, what with buildin’ the kids a house.”

  “Amos Coblentz will construct a home—and barns for the boys, most likely—like no other carpenter in these parts,” Vernon affirmed. “Sounds like those young couples are off to a solid start. I look forward to helping with Mary and Martha’s church instruction. They’re spirited little fillies . . . not unlike the ladies gracing this table.”

  Tom had to smile at the way two dear faces took on some color. Nobody who’d ever met the Hooley sisters doubted for a minute that spirited could be their middle name.

  “Fillies kick up their heels a bit more when they’ve got playmates,” Jerusalem noted with a sparkle in her eye.

  Nazareth paused over buttering her bread. When she looked up at him, Tom wondered how his heart could experience joy and sorrow, regret and hope, all in the same moment. “We can all remember bein’ the same age as those kids,” she reflected. “Not knowin’, at the time, what life might throw at us . . . or how our expectations might not turn out the way we’d planned. I, for one, never figured on remainin’ a maidel. But it seems that’s what God had in mind for me while my friends were gettin’ married, back in the day.”

  Tom closed his eyes against a welling-up of emotion that was surely due to Lettie’s passing. But hadn’t Nazareth said it just right? Hadn’t his marriage taken a turn he’d not foreseen? She was offering a conversational door for him to open, if he cared to. It wasn’t his way to carry on about the heartache he’d endured this past year, now compounded by the information in that attorney’s letter. He’d been taught by generations of Hostetler men that silent, unquestioning acceptance of God’s will was the way to deal with his feelings when the going got rough.

  But where had such stoic behavior gotten him?

  “Jah, when I was courtin’ Lettie, she was the prettiest girl I’d ever met. Never had eyes for another,” he admitted quietly. “I’ve tried to make sense of the way she deserted me, but it was easier to just leave it be . . . to figure God had it in His plan all along, and that I was supposed to have enough faith to muddle through it. I suppose bein’ whittled down to size by my son’s sharp tongue this mornin’ fits in there somewhere, too.”

  Vernon’s bushy white eyebrows rose like question marks. “So you reached your kids on the phone, and it didn’t go well?”

  No way to wiggle out of it now . . . trust these friends to honor feelings you don’t know how to handle. Tom cleared his throat. “I called Pete first, and he was chorin’ so he answered the phone in his barn. And jah, he’d received the lawyer’s letter and he was ready for me with quite an earful.” He sighed wearily, pressing down the pain that rose with a big lump in his throat. “Pete told me I should’ve kept better track of Lettie—should’ve kept her in line—when she was spendin’ so many nights away from home.”

  He paused, considering how to share these details with the trio watching him so closely now. Their gentle but inquisitive expressions encouraged him to continue. “Lettie did a lot of caretakin’ for folks who couldn’t get out, or who had terminal illnesses. Over the years I suppose she helped more than twenty families,” he explained quietly. “That meant she often stayed overnight with a patient so’s the spouse and the kids could get their rest.”

  “An honorable calling,” Vernon replied. “Not many of us have the courage to serve those who are so gravely ill.”

  “You said a mouthful there, Vernon,” Jerusalem remarked. “Myself, I wouldn’t have the emotional strength for that sort of caretakin’.”

  Heartened by their support, Tom set down his fork and continued. “Pete was quick to point out that Lettie’s new married name, Redd, belonged to the family she was helpin’ when she took off. And he reminded me that his mamm had told everyone it was the husband who was dyin’, and not the wife.”

  Nazareth’s brow furrowed as she thought about this. “So . . . are you sayin’ Lettie was really takin’ care of Mr. Redd’s wife, and that’s when she was stayin’ over at the house with Mr. Redd?”

  Her question pierced him like an ice pick. But he had to answer it, to face the possibility that it was true. “Pete was also quick to point out that if Lettie was lyin’ about who the patient was, she might’ve been goin’ to Redd’s house when there was no patient at all,” he murmured. “That’s where he blamed me for not makin’ her more accountable—until I pointed out that she was bringin’ home pay right up to the day she left.”

  “Which might point up a different situation altogether, if Mr. Redd was paying her so she could hide their relationship from you.” Vernon closed his eyes for a moment, pondering. “Speculating about what happened is a waste of our time and emotional energy, however. We’ll never know what went on at the Redd house, so there’s no need to accuse Lettie of things she might not have done. I believe your son is speaking out of bitterness . . . the betrayal he still feels about his mother leaving the family.”

  Tom nodded, clinging to Vernon’s quiet wisdom. “Jah, the two girls, Lavinia and Sarah, were embarrassed enough about their mamm’s sudden departure that they never talked much about it—at least not with me. Pete and Rudy said plenty, though,” he added with a scowl. “While they insisted I should be concerned about their mother’s soul, they were mostly insinuatin’ that I was weak for not chasin’ Lettie down and bringin’ her back.”

  “But ya had no idea who she was with until ya opened that letter, did ya?” Jerusalem asked quietly. “Folks who leave that way have made their secret plans and covered their tracks, so’s their families won’t suspect anything.”

  “And what gut would I have done any of us, haulin’ Lettie back here? If she was that unhappy with her Plain life . . . with me, why would she stay?” Tom let out a long sigh, glad to release the details that had burned inside him like hot coals since opening that letter—and since the gut-wrenching day last spring when his wife had abandoned him. “Thanks for hearin’ me out, and for understandin’ my side of things,” he said as he gazed at each of them. “I don’t know how I’d be endurin’ this situation if you gut friends weren’t here with me.”

  When Nazareth grabbed his hand, Tom clasped it tightly. It was a balm to his soul that she didn’t seem repelled by the dirty laundry he’d aired, just as it was a vote of confidence when Vernon placed a warm hand on his shoulder.

  “It’s yet another example of how God brought us all here for this moment, Tom,” the bishop said. “And this snowstorm has given you the perfect opportunity for dealing with a difficult truth. I suggest you focus on your own needs and feelings, rather than allowing your son’s accusations to hurt you further. Pete hasn’t forgiven his mother for leaving, and that’s a situation he must rectify if he’s to follow our faith.”

  Tom listened closely, gratefully. “I’ll have to work at forgivin’ Pete for his attitude, as well.”

  “Everything to its own season,” Vernon replied. “You’ve got plenty on your plate, dealing with Lettie’s death.”

  As Tom released another long sigh, he felt some of his concerns leaving his heart and soul. Though this situation with Lettie and the kids was by no means behind him, he was gaining a valuable new perspective on it. “I appreciate your sayin’ that, Vernon. Means a lot, comin’ from you,” he said with the best smile he could muster. “And now I’d like us to get back to t
his wonderful-gut dinner before it’s cold.”

  His friends were gracious enough, kind enough, to understand that he’d dished up all the troubles he could handle at one sitting. After they had done the main meal justice and devoured the last of Jerusalem’s apple crisp, he and Vernon retired to the front room while the sisters cleaned up the dishes.

  Over a game of Chinese checkers, Tom allowed his dinner and his whirling thoughts to settle. Vernon focused on strategically moving his green marbles into the dimpled triangle where Tom’s white marbles had been. It was another gift from God, the way he and this longtime friend could enjoy each other’s company without having to fill every moment with chitchat . . . and their sociable silence allowed him to follow the cleanup noise coming from the kitchen.

  “You and Jerusalem gonna take the sleigh out this afternoon?” he asked as he zigzagged a marble over three of Vernon’s.

  “That’s my plan, unless you’d prefer us to chaperone you and Nazareth.”

  Tom let out a quick laugh. “Oh, we’ll behave ourselves. Of course, now that Lettie’s gone, Naz and I can be more than just friends,” he mused aloud. “And while that’s what both of us have been wishin’ for, it opens up the possibility of me jumpin’ in feet-first before the time’s really right. Maybe that’s not so gut, what with my standin’ before the members this Sunday to become the new bishop. Word’s gonna get around about her bein’ snowed in here—”

  “Under perfectly acceptable circumstances, with two other nosy adults present.” With quick efficiency, Vernon jumped one of his marbles halfway across the board to position it at the very peak of his target triangle. Then he glanced up, his blue eyes sparkling. “If you’d like me to stay through Sunday, I’ll have my preachers cover the Cedar Creek service. Installing the new bishop for your district certainly warrants my presence, after all.”

  “Would ya do that? It would mean the world to me,” Tom replied earnestly. “It might keep the gossips from makin’ Naz and me out to be . . . sinful, considerin’ how folks’ll just be findin’ out that Lettie’s passed. She’s a gut woman and I don’t wanna do that to her reputation.”

  “Consider it done, my friend.”

  Tom felt another rush of relief. Then he chuckled. “For a minute there, I thought you were doin’ me a favor, Vernon, but it’s really Jerusalem you’re stayin’ over for, ain’t so?”

  Vernon’s gaze toward the door signaled that the ladies were coming out of the kitchen. “My aunts and my nephew will get along fine without me for another couple of days. A little vacation now and again is good for the soul.” With that, he jumped his last green marble over five white ones and into the remaining empty dimple on Tom’s side of the board, winning the game.

  “Ya didn’t answer my question,” Tom teased under his breath.

  “We’ll both win if we play the game fair and square . . . and if we don’t lose our marbles!” Vernon quipped. Then he stood up to flash his best blue-eyed smile at Jerusalem, who stood beside her sister, looking at the game board. “Ready for that sleigh ride? Whupping Tom at Chinese checkers has put me in the mood to play!”

  Chapter Seven

  “I could bring us out some cookies, or make cocoa—”

  “I’m full as a tick after that fine dinner, Nazareth,” Tom replied as he stood beside her. “But thanks for thinkin’ of me, as you always do. How about if we just sit by the fire for a spell?”

  Nazareth reveled in the way her hand felt so small and protected when Tom wrapped his larger, work-worn fingers around it and led her toward the love seat. Oh, but she’d imagined this scene a dozen times, and she reminded herself not to let her daydreams overrule common sense. She’d been in love with Tom Hostetler for months, but until he’d opened that lawyer’s letter, she’d figured her feelings might be filed away for years. He had a lot more to consider right now than her girlish fantasies, however.

  As they settled on the small upholstered sofa, Nazareth pointed toward the big picture window. “Off they go!” she murmured as Vernon’s sleigh cut through the snow behind his big black horse.

  “Jah, that’s quite a nice rig Vernon’s had restored.” Tom’s smile creased the lines around his eyes and mouth. “He’s head over heels for your sister, ya know. Wasn’t expectin’ to do anything during this visit but catch up with me, yet here he is ready to court again. It’s gut to see him so happy.”

  “Jerusalem will put him through some paces, but she’s mighty glad he’s stayin’ over.” Nazareth smoothed the folds of her apron, still relishing the way her hand felt in Tom’s. “The two of us have been maidels for more than half our lives now, so we’ve got some . . . rethinkin’ to do.”

  Tom nodded, gazing at the fire. His brown hair and beard were shot through with a few strands of silver and his face was chapped from working in the winter wind, but he radiated a kindness . . . a compassion that had drawn her to him from the beginning. “The four of us have that in common,” he remarked quietly. “None of us figured on so many possibilities poppin’ up these past couple days. But I believe it’s a sign that God’s not nearly finished with us yet, and that He doesn’t want us to get too comfortable or complacent.”

  A short laugh escaped her. “Well, that letter you and your kids got sure turned a few fiesty horses out of the barn.”

  “Jah, and like that old sayin’ goes, there’s no gettin’ those horses back in after the door’s been left open, either.” Tom focused intently on her. “While I had to leave a message for my girls and Rudy, tellin’ them I was sorry they’d lost their mamm, Pete’s response tells me I’ve not heard the last of their accusations about her leavin’ the family. Guess that goes with the territory.”

  “Oh, Tom,” Nazareth said with a sigh. “I’m sorry you’re goin’ through such difficulties all over again. Your kids have no idea what Lettie’s leavin’ has done to you. They’re only seein’ their own loss . . . and the way it must look to other folks.”

  “Lucky for me, my friends here in Willow Ridge understand what-all I can’t do for myself. Can’t tell ya how many meals I’ve eaten at the Sweet Seasons,” he remarked. “But I get a lot more than gut food there. Miriam and her girls, and the other fellas who eat there so often, have gotten me through the tough times. And now that you’re sittin’ here next to me, Naz, I can’t begin to tell ya how . . . peaceful I feel. It’s been a long, long time since I felt this happy.”

  When he grasped her hand between both of his, her heart fluttered like a hummingbird’s wings. “It’s not right for me to be glad that Lettie has passed on,” she whispered. “And I hope that doesn’t make me sound like a—”

  He shushed her with a gentle finger on her lips. “Don’t worry yourself over that, Naz. Ya didn’t know Lettie, so why would ya feel any grief over her passin’?” he asked. “You’re such a comfort that Lettie’s death doesn’t bother me near so much as it would’ve, had I been facin’ it alone. And I can finally allow my feelin’s for ya to take their natural course.”

  Oh, but she needed to hear that. For several moments they sat holding hands, treasuring this time together. The flames popped and crackled as logs settled in the wood stove . . . the aromas of brisket and baked vegetables lingered after dinner . . . the steady ticking of the mantel clock became the heartbeat of the entire house as a cozy warmth wrapped around them like an invisible afghan.

  Did she dare say the words that tingled on her tongue? Nazareth took a deep breath. She’d lived too much of her life alone to spend even another day—another minute—with her emotions locked away like the linens she’d embroidered for her bride’s chest when she was a girl. “I . . . I love ya, Tom.”

  “Oh, Naz, I—” He embraced her so suddenly, so tightly, she wasn’t sure if her arms and hands found the best places. But she held on to his sturdy body as though she’d never let him go. “I’ve loved ya for so long, but there wasn’t the right time to say it. Couldn’t leave ya hangin’ while I was unable to marry ya, or—”

  “We’re not p
ast that part yet,” she murmured as her head found his shoulder. “Our friends understand that we have feelin’s for each other, but you’ll still need to be proper about assumin’ your duties as bishop.”

  “Jah, now more than ever I have to rise above the low road Hiram took these past several months. Jeremiah, Enos, and Vernon’ll advise me about takin’ on my new responsibilities,” he remarked quietly. “And it’s probably best if I follow their guidance, far as how I behave with you, too. If they say you and Jerusalem should be bunkin’ elsewhere, that’s how it’ll have to be.”

  “We understand that, Tom. We’ll do everything ya need us to.”

  He hugged her close again, sighing as he nuzzled her temple. “Right now, though, it’s just you and me, Naz. My heart’s hammerin’ and my thoughts are whirlin’, and I don’t wanna do the wrong thing by—”

  Nazareth placed her hand alongside his dear face and kissed him on the lips.

  Tom sucked in his breath.

  She returned his startled gaze. Where on Earth had she gotten such nerve? Wasn’t the man supposed to do those things first? Would Tom think she was a loose woman, pushing for physical affection when they’d just agreed that he had to be above moral reproach?

  A smile eased over Tom’s face. “Well, now. That cuts right to the point, ain’t so?” he whispered. “Less talk, more action.”

  “I couldn’t wait,” Nazareth whispered. “Couldn’t resist.”

  He pressed his forehead to hers. “Oh, but you’ve made me feel like a man again, Naz,” he murmured. “Maybe . . . maybe ya ought to kiss me again, to be sure I understood your meanin’ that first time.”