by Kelly Long
After the first verse, Beth and Judy sidled next to Titus as if they wanted to be included in the party. Holding perfectly still, they stared at the candle, almost as if they, too, felt the Christmas spirit.
Katie lit another taper candle. She gazed into Titus’s eyes as they reflected the flickering light. His look was sort of mushy, like a bowl of sweet, warm tapioca pudding. If Titus were Adam, she’d like Adam a whole lot better. “ ‘Away in a Manger,’ ” she said, after a long pause. Who knew a pair of blue eyes could make her forget every Christmas song she’d ever known? They almost made her forget her own name.
Which was . . . Katie, by the way.
The goats were nearly as enthralled as Katie as she and Titus lit candles and crayons and sang Christmas song after Christmas song about the Christ child and the little stable where He was born. The propane heater became completely unnecessary by the fifth song. Memories of Christmas in Augusta as well as the new memories of carols and Titus and goats on Huckleberry Hill kept her plenty warm. It was the first time it had truly felt like Christmas since Katie had come to Huckleberry Hill.
“ ‘Hark the herald angels sing, Glory to the newborn King!’ ” Titus smiled at her, concern and puzzlement mixed together on his face. “You stopped singing at the end there. Did I sing the wrong words?” He scrunched his lips together. “I’m always messing up something. Norman tells me so all the time.”
Katie’s face got warmer. “I’m sorry. I . . . I just wanted to listen for a minute. Your voice is like bacon sizzling in the pan.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Crackly and scratchy?”
She giggled. “Not like that. Doesn’t the smell of bacon make you think of every gute thing? Like nothing can go wrong as long as your kitchen smells like bacon?”
He ran his fingers through his hair while a grin played at his lips. “Bacon is about my favorite thing in the whole world.” He handed her the matchbox. “It’s your turn for the very last candle.”
In unison, they looked down and eyed the goat manure pellet. “Do you think it will burn?” Katie said.
Titus lifted his upper lip. His toothpicks rose with it. “In any case, it won’t smell like bacon.”
It couldn’t be helped. They had to sing “Stille Nacht” if they wanted to keep the tradition. She struck a match and held it to the edge of the pellet. There was a lot of smoke before the match sputtered and died. She lit another and then a third. Smoke, but no fire. Katie didn’t know why she was so disappointed. It was only one more candle. “We could sing without lighting anything.”
Titus hopped to his feet. “I just had another idea.” He went to the workbench hidden in shadow, and she saw him pull something from underneath it. He came back with a stick of store-bought butter.
“Where did you get that?”
He pressed his lips together and shrugged. “I have a box.”
He pulled out a pocketknife and cut the butter in half, then poked a hole down the center of one half with one of his toothpicks. He tossed the used toothpick on the floor, tore a small piece of paper from his notebook, rolled it up, and stuck it down the hole he’d made with his toothpick. The butter looked like a square candle with a real wick.
They studied Titus’s candle before meeting eyes. “Titus, you are the smartest person in the world,” Katie said.
Titus’s grin couldn’t have been pulled any wider with a pair of pliers. “I’m not even the smartest person in this barn.”
Katie lit a match and held it to their makeshift wick. After two tries, the fire caught and the butter burned like a candle. She started to sing. “Stille Nacht, Heilige Nacht. Alles schlaft, einsam wacht.”
They sat in silence, staring at each other as the last strains of music wafted up to the ceiling. Titus propped his elbows on the bench and leaned toward her. Hopefully he wouldn’t singe his eyebrows. She liked his eyebrows. They were thick and just a shade darker than his hair. She’d hate to see them catch fire.
Her name was . . . Katie . . . Gingerich. She would not forget, no matter how good a singer Titus was. With tingling fingers and toes, she rested her chin in her hand and gazed into the candlelight, stealing glances at Titus when she thought he might not be looking. Her heart skipped-to-my-Lou with every glance. He was always looking.
“Your eyes are like chocolate frosting,” Titus said.
“Dark or milk?” she whispered.
She flinched as icy water soaked through her coat. The snowballs holding the crayons had all but melted, and the crayons were about to topple onto the bench.
Titus quickly blew out the crayons and the butter candle. “I guess we shouldn’t set Dawdi’s bench on fire,” he said, smiling at her with a sort of dazed look on his face. Beth started lapping up the water pooling on the bench while Judy eyed the smoking crayons. “Don’t eat those, Judy,” Titus said. “You’ll burn your lips.” He stood and maneuvered his way around Beth and Judy. “Would you like a Christmas treat?”
“A Christmas treat? I didn’t know this would be such a fancy party.”
Katie could hear shuffling and sliding as he went to the workbench in the shadows and returned with two slices of what looked like Katie’s own cinnamon bread.
She widened her eyes as Titus came into the light. “Did I . . . did I make that?”
“I have something to confess.” Titus set the bread on the non-soggy side of the bench as his toothpick trembled in his mouth. “I always make my own order when I give you the list.” He pulled a sheet of paper from his back pocket. It was the last list of bakery orders he’d given her. He pointed to the last name on the list. “I put myself down as Frank. It’s short for Frankincense.”
“Oh, I see,” Katie said, half-confused, half-intrigued at why Titus would be so secretive.
He gave her a half smile. “I thought it was a gute Christmas code name.”
“But why didn’t you tell me that Frank was you? Titus is just as good a name as Frank.”
Titus kicked at an imaginary pebble at his feet. “Norman and Aunt Esther would say I was foolish for spending all my money on Christmas goodies—even though I’d spend my last dime for a block of your fudge. I’d feel lower than a fly on a manure pile if you thought I was a fool.”
Her heart swelled like warm yeast. “Your last dime?”
Titus pulled the toothpick from his mouth. “I really, really like fudge.”
Katie suddenly couldn’t breathe. It was like that time she had pneumonia, but a thousand times more pleasant, until she thought of Titus believing he had to sneak around to get a loaf of bread from her. She sudden felt thoroughly ashamed of herself. She had been so anxious about making cakes and pies for Adam, she hadn’t appreciated that Titus had taken dozens of orders and delivered dozens of goodies for her. Her bakery was successful, and she would have plenty of money for her wedding to Adam because of Titus. He was the one who deserved a triple chocolate cake every day.
Titus ran his fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry for pretending to be Frank. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”
She stood up, reached across the bench, and grabbed his hand. He froze as if he were a snowman. “I’m really excited about my Christmas treat,” she said. “Do you think Frank will mind if we eat his food?”
Titus’s lips twitched, as if he didn’t know whether he was allowed to smile or not. “Frank won’t mind. It’s an emergency. We have to keep up the tradition.”
“Then let’s eat. We can toast our bread on the propane heater.”
A deep line etched itself between his brows. “Just to be clear, you know that Frank is really me in disguise, right?”
She giggled. “Merry Christmas, Frankincense.”
He brightened like a flaming Christmas crayon. “Merry Christmas to you, too.”
CHAPTER 8
“I am a tiny candle, not large or bright at all, but if I pass my flame around, there’s light enough for all.”
Mammi nudged Titus with her elbow, and Titus nearly jumped out of
his skin, which would not have been appropriate at the school Christmas program. “That’s my great-granddaughter,” Mammi said, smiling like a goat with a mouthful of spent barley.
Titus nodded his agreement. His niece Sadie had to be the smartest eight-year-old in Bonduel. She wasn’t shy about reciting her lines clear and loud, and she didn’t falter on one word. When Titus was a little boy, he’d often been assigned to be the poster holder in the school Christmas programs. He wasn’t real gute with memorization.
The other children recited their lines, and then the seventh graders sang, “This Little Light of Mine” while the next group of children filed to the front. Titus craned his neck to see Adam Wengerd kneeling in front of the scholars with a script in hand, ready to help anyone who forgot their lines.
Titus clamped down on his toothpick.
He tried not to harbor ill will for Adam, but his patience was sorely tried sometimes. Two days ago, Adam had shown up on Huckleberry Hill and offered to help Titus make bakery deliveries. Katie’s face had lit up like a homemade butter candle. Once they got down the hill and onto the main road, Adam had grinned smugly, taken his own baked goods, and walked home, leaving Titus to finish the deliveries. Titus hadn’t minded doing the deliveries by himself. He usually did. But he had felt a little cross about Adam taking credit for it.
Then he’d been forced to go to the bishop’s house and confess to having bad thoughts about one of his fellow men. The bishop had told him not to worry, but Titus still did. He should not be having such feelings about Katie’s boyfriend. Adam was a boy in love. He was trying to impress Katie the best way he knew how.
Adam was a wonderful nice boy who knew how to put on a wonderful-gute school Christmas program. The difficulty was that Titus was in love with Adam’s girlfriend, and there didn’t seem a gute way around that, not if he didn’t want to hurt anybody’s feelings.
What Titus thought really didn’t matter. Adam’s wishes didn’t even matter all that much. What Katie wanted was most important, and she seemed to like Adam just fine. There was no way a dull-witted boy like Titus had a chance of attracting her attention or her approval. He shouldn’t covet, but it didn’t seem fair that Adam should get all the triple chocolate cake and Katie Gingerich. Oy, anyhow, the ache in his chest nearly made him swallow his toothpick.
Titus squinted at the children singing a happy Christmas song in the front of the classroom.
It was time to step back.
But how could he step back if he’d never really stepped forward? Maybe he should hole up in Mammi and Dawdi’s barn writing poetry until Katie went back to Augusta with her fiancé and her garlic press.
The only gute thing about the school program, besides his niece Sadie, was that Katie sat right next to Titus and had smiled in his direction more than once. She had a wonderful pretty smile, and he liked the way her eyelashes nearly touched her cheeks every time she blinked. But he should really stop looking, because he’d made up his mind to step back.
Katie leaned over and whispered to him. “I like the part about the Christmas recipe.”
The scholars sang “We Wish You a Merry Christmas” as their final number, and the parents and guests clapped with great enthusiasm.
Once the program was over, Adam announced that refreshments would be served. Three or four maters brought out plates of cookies and dried fruit, and another mater poured soda and sherbet into the punch bowl.
Katie smiled up at Titus. “That was a wunderbarr program. I know where Sadie got her singing voice.”
Titus couldn’t do anything but stare at her and smile back. Her pretty face always struck him momentarily dumb.
“She got it from Felty,” Mammi said, winking at Dawdi. “He sings like he learned from the birds.”
Dawdi shook his head. “Annie-banannie, you’re making that up.”
“I brought cookies,” Katie said. “Peanut blossoms.”
Titus’s ears perked up. “Do you think anyone would notice if I stole the whole plate?” He could take them to the barn and eat them while he drowned his sorrows in poetry.
“Now, Titus,” Mammi said. “Everyone should have a chance to enjoy Katie’s cookies.”
Parents and scholars crowded the eats table, visiting and filling their plates with the many varieties of cookies Amish fraas had made for the program.
Many of the families were Katie’s customers. Titus introduced her to the ones she hadn’t met yet, and she was instantly everyone’s best friend.
“Katie, we love your cookies.”
“Levi Junior eats his green beans when we promise him a piece of your chocolate cake.”
“Adam is a lucky boy, for sure and certain.”
“My mamm used to make bread like yours.”
Katie was a little shy, but Mammi and Dawdi stayed close by, and she seemed pleased that so many people loved her bakery. She deserved to hear it firsthand. Titus heard it all the time.
Families started to leave, and the crowd in the small schoolhouse thinned.
“Shall we go, Katie?” Mammi said. “It looks like it’s going to make down hard with snow.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t drive you here,” Titus said. He was sorry for more than one reason—the biggest being that he would have been able to spend more time with Adam’s almost-fiancée—even though he was resolved to take a step back.
Katie took a long drink of Christmas punch. “I suppose I should go tell Adam good-bye before we leave.”
Mammi’s eyes sparkled like headlights on Highway 29. “I suppose you should, dear.”
Katie caught her breath. “I almost forgot, Titus. I have something for you in the buggy.”
“For me?”
“Jah. Wait here, and I’ll go get it.”
“I’ll come with you,” Titus said. Even though he was stepping back, he couldn’t let Katie march out into the cold winter’s night by herself. “So you won’t be lonely.”
Katie grinned at him, which made him reconsider stepping back. “You’re about the nicest boy I ever met.”
He helped her on with her coat, and she pulled something bright yellow from her pocket and wrapped it around her neck. It was a scarf with big, googly eyes on either end. “It’s a Minion scarf,” she said. “Your mammi made it for me. Isn’t it cute?”
“What’s a Minion?”
“I don’t know. She said it’s to go with your Viking beanie.”
Katie led the way to Mammi and Dawdi’s buggy, slid open the door, and pulled out a square pan covered with plastic wrap. Whatever was in that pan was creamy white with chocolate sprinkles. Chocolate sprinkles were about his favorite thing in the whole world.
Katie handed Titus the pan. It was heavy. “This is for you,” she said, pressing her lips together. “I am wonderful sorry about all the cakes I should have baked you but didn’t. You take bakery orders and make all the deliveries, and then you had to pretend to be Frank to get anything for yourself.”
Titus’s heart beat as if a giant cow were tromping around his chest in work boots. She’d made it for him, not Adam or Mammi or even Frank.
“It’s called Chocolate Wonder,” Katie said. “You have to eat it with a fork or a spoon because it’s very messy.”
“Are those real or fake chocolate sprinkles on top?”
She shrugged her shoulders coyly. “Real.”
He gasped in amazement. Real chocolate sprinkles. He’d sure picked an inconvenient time to step back.
“Katie!” Adam clomped down the schoolhouse steps.
Titus stifled a groan. Couldn’t Adam see that they were having an important conversation about real and fake chocolate?
“Hey, kid,” Adam said, giving Titus a light punch on the arm. Adam was a real nice guy, but Titus nearly lost his toothpick every time Adam called him “kid.” Then he practically turned his back on Titus to smile at Katie. “What did you think of the program, Katie? I put that recipe part in just for you.”
Titus didn’t want to think ill of
anyone, but that was the exact same program they had done last year. He spit the toothpick out of his mouth. Better to be toothpick-less than to choke on it.
Katie gave one of her best smiles to Adam. Jah. It was gute Titus had thrown away that toothpick. “It was a wunderbarr program, Adam. You had them so well organized. Nobody missed any lines or anything.”
Adam nodded as if he expected no less. “Not to brag, but Reuben Weaver says I’m the finest teacher this school has ever had.” He glanced at the pan in Titus’s hand. “What is this? A present for me?”
“It’s Chocolate Wonder,” Katie said.
Adam scrunched his lips together. “Milk or dark chocolate?”
Titus tilted the pan slightly so Adam could see the sprinkles better. “They’re real chocolate.”
“It’s milk chocolate.” Katie studied Adam’s expression as if waiting for his approval.
Adam nearly shouted. “Yes! I love milk chocolate.”
“I made it for Titus as a thank-you for making my deliveries all month.”
Adam’s elation died like a mosquito under a swatter. “It’s not for me?”
Uncertainty filled Katie’s eyes as she shook her head. “I . . . I made that plate of cookies for you for the program tonight.”
Adam’s lips drooped lower. “But they’re all gone. Besides, those weren’t really for me. They were for the parents. Didn’t you think to bring anything for me?”
“I . . . I guess just the cookies,” Katie said weakly, as if it was her fault they’d all been eaten.
Titus couldn’t let Katie take the blame for that. “I ate your share, Adam. And Katie’s share, too. They were wonderful-gute.”
“I’ve never tasted Chocolate Wonder,” Adam said. “Why didn’t you make me any Chocolate Wonder?”
