Amish Romance BOOK BUNDLE: Marian's Story: Amish Romance Boxed Set (Hollybrook Amish Romance)

by Brenda Maxfield

  Betsy didn’t respond, only looked at her.

  “I won’t be in for the noon meal,” Marian said. “I have a lot of work to do. I’ll eat in the daadi haus. I hope that won’t cause any problems.”

  “Will Thomas be coming in for the meal?”

  Marian shrugged. “That’s up to him.” She turned and left the room, knowing Betsy was staring at her the whole way.

  When she emerged from the house, tears pricked the back of her eyelids. She had to quit letting Betsy bother her so. She was blessed with so many things. She had Thomas, and her own family, and most of Thomas’s family, and her writing, and her friends, and her God. One person disliking her shouldn’t twist it all into the negative.

  She wiped her eyes and continued walking around the big house to the daadi haus. She hoped Thomas would come eat with her.

  He didn’t. But he did show up after the meal, entering the daadi haus calling her name.

  “I’m here,” she said from where she sat at the kitchen table.

  “Are you ill? Why weren’t you at dinner?”

  She shrugged. She wanted to ask him why he hadn’t checked on her before the meal, instead of afterwards, but she feared appearing petty.

  “Nee, I’m not ill. I wanted some extra time for my column.”

  Thomas walked across the room and stood behind her. He put his hands on her shoulders and gave her a squeeze. “How’s it going then?”

  “Fine. It’s going fine.”

  He turned and went to the window overlooking the fields. “Will you be finished by supper?”

  “I plan to be,” she answered. “We’ll eat here, jah?”

  “Mamm wanted us to come over.” He studied her from the window. “Are you all right?”

  “Amelia came by today?”

  “Amelia Cobler?” His voice rose a notch. “She came to see you?”

  “Nee. She came to visit your mamm.”

  “Ah. That makes more sense. Did you join them?”

  “I took over some cookies.” She watched his face, as if looking for some signal, some indication that he was interested in Amelia. When she realized what she was doing, her face burned with shame.

  Thomas was a good man and a wonderful husband. What was she thinking, peering at him like he was guilty of something?

  “Speaking of your cookies, where’d you put them?” he asked, smiling at her.

  She nodded toward the cupboard. He opened the door and grabbed two snickerdoodles from the glass container. He took a big bite of one of them, accompanied by a contented sigh.

  “As always, delicious.”

  Marian put her pen down. She brushed aside a growing feeling of nostalgia or longing, she wasn’t sure which, and she wasn’t sure why she should feel so. All she knew was that she felt a need to reconnect with Thomas, to feel secure again in their relationship. She instinctively knew it had nothing to do with Amelia, but more to do with herself. The transition into Thomas’s family hadn’t gone as she’d anticipated. Never in her wildest dreams would she have thought there would be problems with Betsy accepting her.

  But there it was. And no amount of wishing or praying made it go away. If she only knew what she’d done to offend Betsy, she would fix it. But try as she might, she could think of nothing. And it wouldn’t do to ask. It wouldn’t do at all. Betsy would never answer such a direct question, and Marian feared it would only serve to widen the gap between them.

  She let out her breath in a long sigh. The holidays were nearly upon them. Maybe if she helped Betsy plan and cook the Christmas meal, it would go a ways in helping their relationship. Although Christmas for the Amish wasn’t the hugely celebrated holiday of the Englisch community, it was still a precious time for family and food and prayer in honor of Jesus’s birth. The observance spanned two days. Marian’s family always decorated with candles, hanging stars, greenery, and holiday cards. Marian loved the long afternoons of special baking, and nothing tasted as good as a Christmas sugar cookie.

  And then there was the annual Christmas play at the schoolhouse she always looked forward to. Each year, the children presented the story of Jesus’s birth and recited poems and sang songs. It was a treasured time of rejoicing.

  “Thomas?”

  Thomas swallowed a mouthful of cookie. “Hmm?”

  “I’d like to do something special for your family for Christmas. I was thinking maybe I could be in charge of the decorations and the cookie making. As long as Betsy wouldn’t mind,” she was quick to add.

  Thomas’s face sobered, and he walked to the table, pulling out a chair to sit. Watching his expression, Marian turned nervous. He had to agree with her idea. She knew it would help her feel more at home with the Grofts, and hopefully, make Betsy like her better.

  “Dat isn’t a fan of Christmas celebrations,” Thomas said slowly.

  “What?” She blinked, confused. “What do you mean?”

  “We don’t celebrate. He thinks it’s too commercialized and if we celebrate, we’re becoming too much like the Englisch.”

  Marian sank against the back of her chair. “I don’t understand.”

  “His family never celebrated outside of a nice noon day meal and ours doesn’t either.”

  Her lips parted as if she was going to speak, but no words came.

  Thomas put his hand over hers. “I’m sorry. I thought you knew that. Most folks know we don’t celebrate. And we’re not the only ones. The Bittners don’t celebrate Christmas, either. Didn’t you ever notice we weren’t in attendance at the school presentation?” He grinned and ran his finger under her chin. “I can’t believe you never noticed I wasn’t there.”

  His voice teased, but Marian was so shocked, she didn’t respond.

  “Marian?” He leaned toward her, his eyes intense on hers. “Is it a problem?”

  Is it a problem?

  Marian wanted to burst into tears right then. No Christmas celebration? No decorations? No gifts? Granted, the gifts were simple and usually only one per person, but still, they added to the happiness and joy of the holiday.

  “Then we can go to my house for Christmas,” she said. “Mamm and Dat would be happy to have us.” She bit her lower lip, warming to the idea. “And Izzie,” she added. “The little boppli would love us to be there.”

  Thomas scooted his chair away from the table. “I’m afraid that won’t be possible.”

  “What?”

  “Dat is adamant about it.” Thomas ran his hand over his growing beard. “I’m real sorry, Marian, but he wouldn’t be pleased with us going.”

  “But it’s my family’s tradition,” she countered.

  Thomas gave her a look that showed surprise at her tone. She bowed her head slightly, embarrassed. Thomas was the head of their family, and his dat was the head of his. Chain of command dictated that she bend her will to theirs.

  But no Christmas celebration at all?

  Disappointment grabbed her throat, and she was mortified to realize how close she was to tears.

  “Of course, Thomas.” She got the words out before her throat closed up. “We’re married now, and I need to make new traditions.”

  But this would be the same as making no tradition at all. And there went her plan to win Betsy over. And how was she to tell her parents? Mamm and Dat would be deeply disappointed if she and Thomas didn’t join them at all.

  She stood so abruptly, her chair nearly toppled behind her. “Excuse me a minute,” she said. “I need to use the bathroom.”

  She left the room, but not before seeing the look of disappointment on Thomas’s face.

  Two

  Marian walked over to her mamm’s at mid-afternoon. Mamm was in the kitchen stirring up a batch of brownies.

  “Ach, Marian! I didn’t hear you come in.” She wiped her forehead with her sleeve. “Grab the pan for me will you?”

  Marian put the greased tin pan next to the bowl. “Is the baby down?”

  “That she is.” Lydia grimaced. “I’m thinking her naps
are going to stop soon. Mostly, I just hear her up there playing with her feet and such.” She chuckled.

  “I’d hoped to play with her a bit myself.” Marian stuck her finger into the batter and then into her mouth. “Mmmm. It’s good.”

  Mamm slapped her wrist. “Stop that right now, Marian. You’re acting like a little kinner, and here you are a married woman.”

  Marian licked her finger again. “Sorry, Mamm. But your brownies are the best.”

  Mamm nodded, acknowledging that indeed her brownies were the best of anyone’s in Hollybrook.

  “How are you doing?” Marian asked, her stomach tensing. Even after months of Mamm being back from the sanitarium, Marian feared the return of her mother’s delusions.

  “I’m fine,” Lydia said, her voice curt. “How else would I be?”

  “You don’t have to get angry with me. You know I’m concerned for you.”

  “And you don’t have to be concerned. I’m back, aren’t I? I’m taking care of your father and Izzie. I’m keeping the house clean. Stop worrying.” Mamm dropped her wooden spoon in the glass bowl. “And stop asking me how I am.”

  Marian’s face grew hot with the reprimand. Truth be told, Mamm did seem to be doing well. But Marian was on guard just the same.

  A howl came from upstairs and Marian’s eyes flew to Mamm’s. “Izzie,” they both said at the same time.

  “Can I get her up?” Marian asked.

  Mamm shrugged. “Might as well. The boppli isn’t going to sleep anymore now.”

  Marian hurried up the steps two at a time. A touch of homesickness pulled at her as she passed her old bedroom. She continued to Izzie’s room and poked her head inside. Izzie was standing in the crib, grasping the railing with both hands. Her cheeks were wet with tears, but when she spotted Marian, she broke into a wide grin.

  “Mari!” she blubbered. “Mari!”

  Marian went to her and scooped her up into a huge hug. “How’s my little girl?” she cooed. “Your big sister misses you!”

  Izzie snuggled right into Marian’s shoulder, just as she used to do many times a day when Mamm was gone. Truthfully, Marian was just as much a mother to the boppli as Mamm was.

  Marian changed the baby’s diaper and took her downstairs.

  Mamm was at the sink washing dishes. “Ah, there you are, Isabel.”

  “Mama,” said the baby, rubbing her eyes with her fists.

  “I’ll get a snack for her,” Marian offered and slipped the baby into her high chair.

  Mamm handed her a box of crackers and Marian spilled a few onto the tray. “There you go, pumpkin,” she said.

  “How’s Thomas?” Mamm asked.

  Marian glanced at her mother. “He’s fine. Work is slowing down some now, what with the cold weather.”

  “Jah.” Mamm gazed out the window. “Lots of folks around here dread the winter. Not me.” She turned to Marian. “It’ll be different come Christmas without you in the house.”

  Marian tensed.

  “But we’ll have you for the noon meal, just the same. If you’d like, you can help me with all the baking.” She set the clean mixing bowl in the drainer. “I hear the school Christmas program is going to be right special this year. To think that it won’t be long till Izzie is in it. Won’t that be fun?”

  Mamm sighed and wiped the counter down with the dishrag.

  “Uh, Mamm, about Christmas…” Marian started.

  “Now please don’t tell me the Groft’s can’t spare you and Thomas for one meal. You know our celebrations go two days. One meal ain’t too much to ask.”

  “Nee, it’s not too much to ask” Marian murmured.

  “Gut! It’s settled then.”

  “Not really,” Marian said, dreading her next words. “The Grofts don’t celebrate Christmas. I have no idea how we didn’t know that, them being practically neighbors and all.”

  Mamm brushed her hands down her apron. “What? They don’t?”

  “Nee. Neither do the Bittners.” The words felt rough on Marian’s lips.

  “Why, then we can have you both days,” Mamm said, her face brightening. “This is even better.”

  “Thomas won’t celebrate.”

  Mamm moved to the kitchen rocker and sat down. “So, you’ll come alone?”

  Marian could hear the doubt in her mother’s question. “Nee. I’ll be with Thomas.”

  Mamm shook her head, and her eyes grew harsh. “So you’ll not be celebrating at all?”

  Marian raised her chin in an attempt to stay calm. “Nee.” She hastened to add, “But it’s all right, Mamm. I’m a Groft now, and I need to act like one.”

  “Like a heathen, then? No celebration of our Savior’s birth?” Mamm jumped up, unfastened her apron, and heaped it on the counter.

  “Mamm! Don’t say such things!” Marian cried.

  “I’ll say what I please, daughter.” Mamm marched to the cupboard and grabbed a glass. She stuck it under the faucet and filled it until the water spilled over the sides. Then she took a long gulp.

  “Please, don’t upset yourself. It’s all right.” Marian blinked back her tears. As her mother had said, she was a married woman now, and she needed to act like one. She squared her shoulders, hoping to muster up a bit more courage. “If the Grofts won’t celebrate, I won’t either. It’ll be fine.”

  Mamm glared at her for a long moment. “I know some of our people reject the holiday entirely, but I had no idea the Grofts were among them. I suppose they think they’re better than the rest of us by denying themselves the celebration.”

  Marian stepped across the room and put her hand on her mother’s arm. “Mamm, please don’t talk unkindly about the Grofts. They’re my people now. I have to honor Thomas and his father, both. You know that.”

  “Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

  Marian’s mouth gaped open. She had always known her mother could be a harsh and independent sort of woman, but this attitude seemed even more daring than usual for her.

  “Well, I need to get back,” Marian said, trying to put on a light tone. “I finished my column today. Will you read it?”

  “Your column? What column?”

  Marian went cold. “My newspaper column. You know about it. For the Mennonite and Amish newspaper.”

  Mamm stared at her.

  “Mamm! You’ve read it before. Don’t you remember?”

  Mamm ran her hand through Izzie’s hair. She grabbed another handful of crackers and placed them on the baby’s tray.

  “Of course, I remember.” But her response was delayed, and Marian feared her mother wasn’t telling the truth.

  “Do you? Do you remember?” Marian probed.

  “Jah, I remember! Quit treating me like an imbecile!” she snapped.

  “All right. I’m sorry.” Marian bent and kissed Izzie on the cheek. She gave her mother a quick, if somewhat stiff hug. “G’bye, Mamm. I’ll come by again soon.”

  Mamm didn’t answer. She kept her gaze averted, and Marian finally sighed and left the house.

  The temperature outside had dropped while she was visiting. Marian pulled her coat more snugly around her neck and bent into the cold, hurrying back to the Groft’s and her daadi haus. She averted her eyes when she passed by the big house, not wanting to see Betsy if she happened to be peering outside.

  When she opened her own door, a rush of heat from the fire greeted her. Thomas was already there, sitting on the couch.

  “’Tis getting cold out there. I was worried,” he said, looking at her intently.

  She took off her coat and shook it out before hanging it on a peg next to the door. “I went to see Mamm.”

  “How is she?”

  Marian shrugged. “Seems to be doing all right.”

  Thomas patted the spot next to him on the couch. “Come sit, Marian.”

  She studied his face, wondering what she was in for. But all she saw in his expression was tenderness. She bit the inside of her bottom lip. When had she become so wary
of her own husband, the man she loved more than anything? When had she lost her sense of joy and positive expectation?

  She frowned. She knew exactly when she’d lost her naivety. It had been months and months ago, when her mother had first started acting odd—saying nonsensical things and ignoring her own baby. Marian’s innocence had flown out the window as quickly as if she were traveling in a speeding Englischer’s car.

  “What is it?” Thomas asked her when she sat beside him. He reached over and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “What’s really troubling you?”

  His voice was soft and concerned. Her eyes misted over, and she leaned against his shoulder. “I’m fine, Thomas.”

  He moved away from her, forcing her to look into his blue eyes. “No, you’re not.”

  She dropped her gaze and studied her tightly clasped hands. “I always worry about Mamm.”

  He hesitated, then sighed. “I know you do,” he whispered. “But she’s doing so much better now. She’s taking care of Izzie and the house, right?”

  Marian nodded. “Jah.”

  “Then why continue worrying? Gott has truly answered our prayers.”

  Marian looked up at him again. “You’re right.”

  Thomas leaned forward and kissed her, his lips gentle on hers. “Is this about Christmas?”

  She exhaled. Sometimes she wished he didn’t know her so well. “A little,” she murmured.

  “Did you tell your mamm this afternoon? Is that why you went over there?” His voice was soft, but she heard a hint of dismay there.

  “It isn’t really why I went, but I did end up telling her. She wasn’t … well, she was not happy.”

  Thomas leaned back against the couch and regarded her. “This means a lot to you.”

  She grabbed his hands, and emotion filled her voice. “It does, Thomas. It does. It’s our tradition. And really, I think Gott is pleased when we honor His Son’s day of birth. Don’t you think so?” Her words came too quickly, and she realized she sounded desperate, but she didn’t stop. “Can’t you talk to your dat? Can’t you help him see this is important? That my family joins most of our community in celebrating?”

  She was pressuring him now, trying to make him realize his family was the odd one by not celebrating. Even Bishop participated in the celebrations. She knew it for a fact, because he was always at the school program sitting in the first row. She’d seen him there plenty of times.