An Amish Country Christmas

by Hubbard, Charlotte; King, Naomi

  Folks turned their heads to find Leah and Daniel in the crowd.

  “Jah,” said Daniel, “and they invited the boys in for cookies and cocoa, too, but Nate and Bram had to get their fiancées back to Cedar Creek. The Coblentz girls said mighty nice things about ya, Bishop Gingerich.”

  “This chitty-chat’s all fine and dandy,” Lavinia Hostetler interrupted in a shrill voice. “But it doesn’t change the fact that our dat was spooning with Nazareth, and that Vernon and that other woman were looking pretty chummy, too.”

  “Jah,” Sarah chimed in, “it’s obvious Dat’s been seein’ this gal since before we knew Mamm was gone. If he’s to become a bishop—”

  “That other woman’s name is Jerusalem,” Jeremiah Shetler put in above her strident tone. “And while we understand your concern for your dat, I must also say that I’ve not met two finer, more upright women than the Hooley sisters.”

  “And I will confess before my children—before all the members here—that yes, I have enjoyed gettin’ to know Nazareth,” Tom chimed in. He clasped his hands before him, meeting the gazes of several in the crowd. “Matter of fact, I intend to court her now that Lettie’s death makes it permissible for me to marry again. If anybody objects to that or needs to ask me any questions, now’s the time.”

  Nazareth blushed, yet a thrill went through her as Tom said these things in front of all their friends. The women around her patted her back and mouthed their congratulations, until Tom’s voice silenced their excited whispering.

  “I can understand how I’ve upset you girls, so soon after we learned of your mamm’s passin’. And I ask your forgiveness for that part.” Tom looked steadily at his two daughters.

  The room went quiet again. Nazareth didn’t turn around to gauge the expressions on Lavinia and Sarah’s faces, but she sensed that as this uncomfortable pause grew longer, any doubts people had about Tom’s connections to her were shifting toward his kids instead. When someone asked for forgiveness—especially with witnesses present—an answer was expected.

  “And what about us, Dat?” Again Pete Hostetler stood up behind the rest of the men. “Do you expect Rudy and me to go along with your—carrying on—with this other woman? Isn’t that a slap in the face of Mamm’s memory?”

  Tom remained placid, shifting to focus on his two sons. “I seek your forgiveness, as well,” he stated quietly. “I don’t want this rift betwixt us to grow any wider. Ya haven’t had much to do with me since your mamm left, and I suspect ya blame me for her leavin’ with that other fella.”

  Eyebrows shot up around her, and Nazareth noted how the older men in the front benches murmured among themselves. Reuben Reihl rose from the center bench, raking his red hair back from his face as he looked at Tom’s sons.

  “As I recall it, you two boys were mighty eager to leave Willow Ridge rather than help your dat with his dairy herd or tend his cropland,” the deacon pointed out. Then he turned toward the girls, his scowl deepening. “And you daughters married fellas from outta town, as well, which means your mother had to handle her garden and the house even while she was workin’ as a caretaker to help make ends meet. Seems to me you four kids left the family before your mother did. I can’t recall many times you’ve returned to visit Tom or to be in church with us, either.”

  Reuben’s words rang around the room, inspiring another round of nods and murmured “jahs” from the members.

  “Your dat didn’t stand in the way of your followin’ the paths that would make all of ya happy, either,” the deacon continued. “So even if you’re not gonna forgive him today, you could at least offer him the same sort of consideration he’s showed you, so he can be happy, too.”

  “Well said, Deacon,” Henry Zook spoke up.

  “Jah, and I’m thinkin’ that since Tom’s kids aren’t members of our district,” Ben Hooley added, “they won’t be votin’ on him becomin’ our bishop, anyway. It’s time to be gettin’ on with that process. My mind’s been made up for quite a while now.”

  “Mine, too,” Leah Kanagy added. “This isn’t the time or place for airin’ Tom’s family problems when we’ve got a bigger issue to decide.”

  Tom’s kids scowled at each other and promptly left. The two doors banged loudly enough to startle folks and make them wince.

  As Nazareth dared to sigh with relief, she saw that Tom was gazing right at her. What a fine, upright man he was, never raising his voice or expressing impatience or disgust with the way his children had behaved. She smiled steadily at him, excited that he had publicly stated his intentions toward her . . . ecstatic that he found her worthy to be his wife. She felt sorry that his kids had left the meeting with a cloud still hanging over the Hostetler family’s relationships. This situation wouldn’t disappear just because Deacon Reihl and Jeremiah Shetler had defended Tom . . .

  As Jeremiah called for the vote to begin with the eldest of the men, Nazareth thrilled at every confident “jah!” that confirmed the feelings of those in this room: folks were affirming her relationship with Tom as surely as they were deciding that he should be their bishop. As she waited for her turn to vote, she bowed her head.

  Lord, I thank Ya for this fine day, and for these gut friends who’ve stood with Tom and me, seein’ our true intentions to be a part of Your plan. Bless Rudy and Pete, Sarah and Lavinia, as they mourn their mamm and deal with their feelings about their dat. Shine Your light on them so they can find the way to bein’ right with You.

  The vote was unanimous, the meeting was adjourned, and everyone in the room broke into applause as they surged toward Tom. Jerusalem grabbed Nazareth in a hug as the women flocked around her. “Guess it’s official now, Sister,” she whispered. “And nobody’s happier for you and Tom than I am.”

  “Denki, Jerusalem,” Nazareth replied as she swiped at sudden tears. “It’s your turn now, ain’t so?”

  Chapter Twelve

  Monday morning as Vernon’s sleigh took off down the lane behind Samson, Jerusalem waved and waved at Nazareth. Her sister beamed, flanked by their nephews, Ira and Luke. To be proper, they had brought Nazareth back to the apartment above the boys’ gristmill to stay, so she and Tom wouldn’t be at his home alone. Jerusalem had quickly packed some fresh dresses for the trip to Cedar Creek.

  “What a wonderful family you have. Every one of them special,” Vernon remarked as he urged his Percheron to turn onto the county highway.

  Will I say the same thing about Vernon’s aunts and his nephew? But it was too late to worry about that.

  “It was clear at yesterday’s common meal that folks in Willow Ridge have made your nephews welcome, too,” Vernon said. “And as I talked with Ben, I couldn’t miss the happiness on his face as he stood with his new bride.”

  “Miriam’s a special woman,” Jerusalem agreed. “And we’re all real happy that she stood up to Hiram, and that Bennie latched onto her.”

  “I might miss my guess, but I’d not be surprised if Ben becomes one of your new preachers. He has that glow of holy purpose about him.”

  Jerusalem considered this, feeling a glow herself. Even if things didn’t work out between her and this bishop, she had to admit Vernon’s accuracy when it came to assessing character. “Bennie’s a fine fella. Went from bein’ a late bloomer to becomin’ the biggest blossom on the bush, once he met Miriam,” she remarked. “It was just that quick between them. No doubts and no lookin’ back.”

  “The way it was with us.”

  That remark felt like a pond just waiting for her to jump into it. Was it full of fresh, clear water . . . or would she bang herself up on the rocks at the bottom? And there was no missing the way Vernon gazed at her, expecting some sort of reply.

  “I knew ya for a gut man the moment ya walked into Tom’s,” she replied carefully. “And I can’t fib to ya, Vernon. I’ve been mighty happy this past week, havin’ ya pay so much attention to me.”

  Vernon smiled, focusing on the road. “And?”

  And? Was he going to keep leadi
ng her deeper into that pond, until the bottom dropped out from under her? “And jah, I liked the kissin’, too,” she admitted. “How about you, Vernon? If ya were to change one thing about me, what would it be?”

  When his jaw dropped, Jerusalem felt a surge of satisfaction. If this man thought he was the only one who could lead a merry conversational chase, he’d better find out the truth before he got her to Cedar Creek. If he gave a wrong response to her question, it would be best to just turn around now, before—

  “Let me ponder that one. It deserves my best effort at an answer. Meanwhile,” he said as he reached beneath the seat, “here’s that little project I was spending my time on at Tom’s. I hope you like it.”

  “Oh, Vernon, ya really didn’t have to—”

  “I wanted to make this for you, dear heart,” he corrected softly. “It’s been too long since my fingers itched to work with wood. Too long since I took the time. And it’s a trifle, compared to the beautiful afghan you and Nazareth made me.”

  Jerusalem tore eagerly at the kraft paper wrapping and then sucked in her breath. “Oh, my . . . such a perty little box, and with a J on the top! Denki, Vernon, I—I’ll cherish it always.”

  He smiled, almost shyly. “I work best with my own tools in my own shop, but it’s a small token of my feelings for you. A keepsake box. Something that, over the years, I hope you’ll fill with mementos of our times together.”

  Jerusalem gazed out over the snowy fields, her heart thrumming as she held the glossy box on her lap. It was made of cherry wood, with an intricate border pattern carved around her initial. Then she smiled. To his credit, Vernon hadn’t popped off a clever reply or sidestepped her question by posing another one. But his gift had made for a timely distraction, hadn’t it?

  “Take your time comin’ up with what you’d change about me,” she remarked. “I’ll just keep enjoyin’ the scenery. It’s like passin’ through a winter wonderland, what with the sun makin’ everything sparkle.”

  She relaxed against the plush seat of the sleigh, admiring the rich red of its upholstery . . . the midnight black of Samson’s muscled haunches as he trotted confidently through an open field of snow that shone with fiery sun diamonds . . . the crisp jingle of sleigh bells that made her as giddy as when she’d been a kid.

  What a joy the Missouri landscape was, so open and uncomplicated. While they had to be aware of where the ditches and gullies were, and had to watch for the occasional barbed wire fence between one family’s place and the next, Vernon and Samson navigated the fields and roads as though they had done it dozens of times. If she hitched up with Vernon . . . would he be willing to visit Willow Ridge often, so she could spend time with Nazareth and her nephews?

  “If I could change anything about you, dear Jerusalem,” the man beside her began, “I would change your mind. Not your intelligence,” he quickly clarified, “because your wit and common sense set you far above most women I know.”

  Jerusalem let this sink in, sensing the other shoe was about to drop. “I’m with ya so far. Don’t stop now.”

  Vernon’s laughter rang out as he squeezed her arm. “What a delight you are, dear heart,” he murmured. “But if I’m to truly win you, I must encourage you over that barricade of your second thoughts. I must turn your fear into trust, for while I sense you want to become physically intimate with me someday, you over-think it. And then you get scared.”

  Scared? Oh, the scary part was how Vernon had hit the nail square on the head, and how he had returned to the topic of sex. Jerusalem nipped her lip, at a loss for a reply.

  Vernon sighed as he slipped an arm around her shoulders. “It wasn’t my intention to frighten you again just now, and—”

  “Not your fault,” she said in a shaky whisper. “I just don’t have the foggiest notion about what I’m gettin’ myself into.”

  “But you like the kissing.”

  Her cheeks went hot. “Oh, jah, that part’s just dandy, but—”

  Vernon’s lips eased over hers before she knew what had hit her. After a moment’s resistance, when he paused to let her catch up with him, Jerusalem relaxed . . . followed his lead down a path that warmed and exhilarated her. For long, lovely moments she luxuriated in his silky lips . . . the softness of his beard against her skin . . . the way her pulse settled into rhythm with his...

  When Vernon eased away with a satisfied sigh, Jerusalem was surprised to see that they had stopped in the middle of a field, right out in the open. There were no trees to shelter them from whatever eyes might be watching from that farmhouse on the next knoll. “My stars, I just—”

  “Shhh,” he whispered, and then he kissed her again. “Don’t think about it. Let your senses lead you toward whatever feels comfortable, sweetheart, and then push your limit a little farther each time. I’ll catch you before you go off the deep end. Although,” he said with a wiggle of his white eyebrows, “it’s only in the deep end where you truly learn to surrender yourself. I’ll be there surrendering, too, you know.”

  Jerusalem let out the breath she’d been holding. How had Vernon weaved her thoughts about deep water into his reply, anyway? “And I’m supposed to trust ya on that part? That you’ll catch me before I go under and don’t come back up?”

  Vernon smiled gently. His blue eyes twinkled, but there was no sign of derision or impatience in them. “Oh, we’ll reach a point of no return, Jerusalem, if you’ll give me the chance to take you there.” He ran a finger along her cheek, sending tingles down her spine. “If I were a betting man, I’d put my money on you becoming quite an exuberant lover. You approach everything else with such joy, it only follows that you’ll bring the same spirit into my bed. As my wife.”

  Jerusalem’s heart flew up into her throat. Here he was, talking so freely about marriage again when only a moment ago he was reassuring her about what husbands did with their wives . . . what he wanted to do with her. “I—I don’t wanna disappoint ya, Vernon.”

  “And you won’t, dear Jerusalem. This is fear of the unknown, plain and simple,” he whispered as he lightly kissed her again. “Once you allow your fear to become faith, there’s no limit to who you can be or how high you can fly. You believe that, don’t you?”

  Jerusalem hung on his every murmured word, badly wanting to fling herself over the edge . . . wanting, indeed, to fly. She nodded, holding his gaze. For if she had no faith, she had nothing at all.

  “Good. Now, kiss me again, and then we’ll . . . mulch this subject as though it’s your favorite rose bush in the fall,” he suggested. “It will gather its strength beneath the winter’s snow so it can bloom and flourish in the spring. Love’s like that, you know.”

  Jerusalem lost herself in Vernon’s clear blue eyes, seeing herself reflected in them and going deeper . . . down into his soul, just as he was surely permeating hers.

  She slipped the keepsake box onto the seat beside her and leaned into the kiss this time, daring to take the lead with subtle pressure and a slight slanting of her mouth. Vernon wrapped his arms around her and held her head, kissing her until she was spinning in dizzy, giddy circles. Her whole being felt as vibrant and shiny as the snow, and she didn’t want this moment to end.

  “Oh, Jerusalem,” he murmured when they finally released each other.

  “Jah, it’s me. But it’s me when I was about nineteen—except ever so much finer,” she whispered. “Because you’re finer than anybody I was kissin’ back then.”

  Vernon chuckled and hugged her again. “I know better than to quibble about that. Shall we get along home? We’ve only just begun, Jerusalem, and I surely don’t want to stop now.”

  “Gee, Samson! You’ve given us a good ride home, boy.”

  As always, he felt glad to be entering his own lane after a trip away, but today was special. How would Jerusalem see his home place? Would the ancient stone silo make her think he was stuck in the past and hopelessly outmoded? Did the tall stone and brick house, with its single-story wing of white, appear out of propo
rtion? At least the cold weather meant she wouldn’t catch the aroma from the cattle that were milling about the barnyard, absently chewing their hay as they peered between the fence slats.

  “Doesn’t look like we got as much snow here,” he remarked as the sleigh slid past the house. “And bless him, Abner has done a fine job of plowing us out.”

  Jerusalem’s smile was a little crooked, but that was to be expected. “Nice to see all those perty black cows gawkin’ at us,” she said. “Thought I saw somebody peekin’ from between the curtains as we passed the house, too. Did ya tell your aunts I was comin’ home with ya?”

  Vernon pulled the sleigh to a halt. “When I left a phone message that I’d be staying in Willow Ridge through Sunday, I did mention I’d be bringing a friend for a visit, yes.”

  Jerusalem nailed him with her piercing brown eyes. “A girl-type friend?”

  “I confess I was at a loss about what to call you, exactly.” He slipped his gloved hand around hers, hoping he hadn’t gotten this visit off to an unfortunate start. “Don’t let the presence of Aunt Nettie, Aunt Florence, and my nephew worry you, dear heart. This is my place,” he continued earnestly, “and just as the Lord compelled me to take them in when they lost their homes in a flood, He is now answering my prayers for a woman who is not my aunt! Shall we see where God is leading all of us?”

  As he helped Jerusalem from the sleigh and led her up the walk toward the kitchen door, Vernon recalled bringing Dorothea to meet his parents for the first time, about forty years ago. As a young carpenter just getting started, he’d had little to offer a bride—they had lived with Dorothea’s family for about a year after they were married, as was the Plain custom—so this presentation of his intended felt a little more comfortable. Still, there was plenty of room for three opinionated women to get crossways . . .