A Kauffman Amish Christmas Collection

by Amy Clipston

  Finally, with tears pooling in her eyes, Naomi looked up. “Danki. It’s schee.”

  He touched her hand, and her pulse skittered. “I need to know something. What did you mean last night when you said you thought I was discussing business with Hezekiah and Irene?”

  “Susie said you were going into business with Hezekiah,” Naomi said.

  Caleb shook his head. “No, I’m not. I found a house that has a shop, and I’m going to open my own carriage shop.”

  Naomi smiled. “That’s wunderbaar!”

  “Hezekiah and Irene were talking my ear off last night, but it was nothing but idle conversation.”

  Naomi took a deep breath and glanced down at the Bible. She needed to know the truth about him and Irene. “Are you courting Irene?” she asked while running her fingers over the cover of the Bible.

  He snorted. “No. Why do you ask?”

  She met his expression, not finding any sign of a lie. “I heard Sadie talking.”

  He frowned. “What did mei schweschder say now?”

  “She was telling someone that you and Irene would be a gut couple. She made a point of saying that Susie needed a mamm, implying that Irene could be a gut candidate for that role.”

  Caleb rolled his eyes. “Sadie tries too hard to run my life. She means well, but she does more damage than good.” His frown deepened. “And the last role that Irene would be gut for would be a mamm. She’s terrible with Susie, and she’s been nothing but rude to my precious dochder.”

  Naomi shook her head. “I can’t imagine ever being rude or nasty to Susie. She’s such a special girl. I’m sorry that Irene isn’t nice to Susie, but I’m so glad Sadie was wrong.”

  “Sadie has been wrong about a lot of things,” Caleb said. “Most of all, she was wrong about who I belong with. I definitely don’t belong with Irene.”

  “Is that so?” Naomi’s smile reappeared.

  He nodded, his own smile growing. “She’s not any fun to go shopping with.”

  “And I would imagine she doesn’t like root beer.” Naomi coyly tapped her chin. “I seem to remember that you promised me a root beer float.”

  He grinned. “I did. And I intend to keep that promise.” His smile faded. “But I must ask you one question first.”

  “What’s that?”

  He took her hands in his, and the feel of his warm skin caused her heart to beat at hyper speed. “Naomi, that time we sat on the porch together, you asked me if I believed God gave second chances at true love. I told you yes, but I honestly wasn’t sure.” His eyes sparkled. “Since I’ve met you, I know that answer for certain. I think God has given me a second chance when he brought me to you. We would be a gut couple, and I would be honored to court you.”

  Tears filled her eyes. “After I had my heart broken twice, I was certain I’d never find love. Now I see that God had a plan all along for me. I think this is the Christmas miracle Susie wanted for you. It’s also a miracle for me.”

  “She told me that she’d asked you if you believed in miracles,” he said, running his finger down her jaw line.

  She nodded, butterflies fluttering in her belly at the feel of his gentle touch.

  “She also asked me if I believe in miracles, and I do believe in them,” he said. “And, ya, my little girl was right because you’re my miracle. No, actually, you’re a miracle for Susie and me. We both love you.” He nodded toward the Bible. “There’s a reason why I didn’t have your name engraved on the Bible. I thought that you might change your name someday and I wanted to be certain that I put the correct name on the cover.”

  Before she could respond, he leaned over and gently pressed his lips against hers, sending the pit of her stomach into a wild swirl.

  “Frehlicher Grischtdaag, Naomi,” he whispered against her lips.

  “Frehlicher Grischtdaag,” she whispered, leaning her head against his shoulder and closing her eyes.

  Kauffman Amish Bakery Fruit Cake

  1½ cups sugar

  2 eggs

  2 cups applesauce or 2 cups fruit (any kind)

  ½ cup oil

  2 cups flour

  ¼ tsp salt

  2 tsp baking soda

  Mix together all ingredients and pour into a greased 9 x 13 pan. Bake at 350 degrees for 45 minutes.

  Icing

  1 stick butter

  ½ cup evaporated milk

  ¾ cup brown sugar

  1 tsp vanilla

  Stir together in a saucepan, then boil 5 minutes. Cool cake and cover with icing.

  RASPBERRY DREAM TORTE

  1-10 oz. pkg. frozen raspberries

  1½ cup vanilla wafer crumbs

  ¼ cup melted butter

  ½ cup butter

  1½ cups 10x (confectioner’s) sugar

  ¼ t. vanilla

  ¼ t. almond extract

  ¼ cup sugar

  2 T. cornstarch

  Whipped cream for garnish

  2 eggs

  Defrost raspberries. Combine vanilla wafer crumbs and ¼ cup melted butter. Press into bottom of 7 ½-inch spring form pan. Cream ½ cup butter and 10x sugar. Add eggs, beating well after each. Blend in extracts. Spread over crumb layer. Chill until firm. Combine sugar, cornstarch, and raspberries in a pan. Cook on stovetop at medium heat, stirring constantly until clear and thick. Pour raspberry filling over torte. Refrigerate several hours. Garnish with whipped cream.

  Note to the Reader

  While this novel is set against the real backdrop of Lancaster County, Pennsylvania, the characters are fictional. There is no intended resemblance between the characters in this book and any real members of the Amish and Mennonite communities. As with any work of fiction, I’ve taken license in some areas of research as a means to create the necessary circumstances for my characters. My research was thorough; however, it would be impossible to be completely accurate in details and description, since each and every community differs. Therefore, any inaccuracies in the Amish and Mennonite lifestyles portrayed in this book are completely due to fictional license.

  Glossary

  ack: Oh

  aenti: aunt

  appeditlich: delicious

  bedauerlich: sad

  boppli: baby

  bopplin: babies

  bruder: brother

  bruderskinner: nieces/nephews

  daed: father

  danki: Thank you

  dat: dad

  Dietsch: Pennsylvania Dutch, the Amish language (a German dialect)

  dochder: daughter

  dochdern: daughters

  eiferich: excited

  Englisher : a non-Amish person

  fraa: wife

  Frehlicher Grischtdaag!: Merry Christmas!

  freind: friend

  freinden: friends

  freindschaft: relative

  froh: happy

  gegisch: silly

  gern gschehne: You’re welcome

  grossdaddi: grandfather

  grossdochdern: granddaughters

  Grischtdaag: Christmas

  grossmammi: grandmother

  Gude mariye: Good morning

  gut: good

  Gut nacht: Good night

  Ich liebe dich: I love you

  kapp: prayer covering or cap

  kind: child

  kinner: children

  kinskind: grandchild

  kinskinner: grandchildren

  kumm: come

  liewe: love, a term of endearment

  maedel: young woman

  mamm: mom

  mei: my

  mutter: mother

  naerfich: nervous

  narrisch: crazy

  onkel: uncle

  Ordnung: unwritten book of Amish rules

  rumspringe: running around time

  schee: pretty

  schtupp: family room

  schweschder: sister

  Was iss letz?: What’s wrong?

  Willkumm heemet: Welcome home

  Wie geht’s: H
ow do you do? or Good day!

  wunderbaar: wonderful

  ya: yes

  Acknowledgments

  I’m thankful to my loving and supportive family, including my mother, Lola Goebelbecker; my husband, Joe; my sons, Zac and Matt; my mother-in-law, Sharon Clipston; and my wonderful aunts, Trudy Janitz and Debbie Floyd.

  I’m more grateful than words can express for my amazing friends who critique and edit for me: Jean Love, Sue McKlveen, and Lauran Rodriguez. Special thanks to Lauran for admiring the character of Naomi King and inspiring this book.

  Thank you also to Ruth Meily for her continued help with Lancaster County research and recipes. I’m also grateful to Cathy Zimmermann for her help and quick answers to my Amish and Lancaster County questions. Thank you also to Stacey Barbalace for her help with the Amish details and accuracy.

  As always, thank you to my special Amish friend who patiently answers my endless stream of questions.

  Thank you to my awesome agent, Mary Sue Seymour, for her professional expertise and her friendship.

  I’m grateful for the fabulous team at Zondervan, especially Sue Brower, Becky Philpott, and Alicia Mey.

  Thank you also to my faithful readers for your love and friendship.

  Thank you most of all, God, for giving me the opportunity to glorify You. I’m so thankful and humbled You’ve chosen this path for me.

  Special thanks to Cathy and Dennis Zimmermann for their hospitality and research assistance in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania.

  Cathy & Dennis Zimmermann, Innkeepers

  The Creekside Inn

  44 Leacock Road — PO Box 435

  Paradise, PA 17562

  Toll Free: (866) 604 – 2574

  Local Phone: (717) 687 – 0333

  The author and publisher gratefully acknowledge the following resources that were used to research information for this book:

  C. Richard Beam, Revised Pennsylvania German Dictionary: English to Pennsylvania Dutch (Brookshire Publications, 1991).

  Rose Heiberger, Buggy Seat Bare Feet, rev. ed. (Gordonville, Pennsylvania Print Shop, 1994).

  A sample from Amy Clipston’s

  A GIFT of GRACE

  Rebecca Kauffman’s pulse fluttered as the large SUV she was riding in rumbled down the narrow road past the rolling farmland and green pastures dotted by heifers. The cows chewed their cud and nodded their greeting as if welcoming her back. The serenity of the lush, open fields intersected only by clusters of white farmhouses filled her soul with a peace she hadn’t felt since she’d left last month.

  Pushing the cool metal button on the door, she cracked the passenger window open and breathed in the sweet, warm, moist air, free of exhaust from overcrowded city roads.

  The SUV negotiated a sharp bend, and Rebecca’s heart skipped a beat when the three-story farmhouse came into view. A smile crept across her lips.

  Home.

  The whitewashed, three-story, clapboard house stood humbly near the entrance to her family’s forty acres. The newly painted white picket fence was a stark contrast to the house’s green tin roof, speckled with brown rust that told of its age. The green window shades were halfway up, and the windows were cracked open to allow the springtime air to cool the house naturally.

  A sweeping porch welcomed visitors entering the front, and a white barn, almost the size of the house, sat behind it. The large moving truck filled with the girls’ belongings seemed out of place next to the plain farmhouse and barn.

  “This is it,” Rebecca said.

  Running her fingers over the ties of her prayer kapp, her mind swirled with thoughts on how her life had suddenly changed. She was finally a mother, or rather a guardian, of her two teenage nieces, her sister Grace’s children. Children would again live in the large farmhouse for the first time since she and Grace had been young.

  “It’s beautiful,” Trisha McCabe, her older niece’s godmother, whispered from the seat behind Rebecca.

  “Thank you.” Rebecca sat up straight in the leather front seat and smoothed her apron. “I love it here. It’s so quiet. If you listen close, you can actually hear the birds eating the seed in the feeder by my garden.” She pointed to the area near the front door where a rainbow of flowers swayed in the gentle spring breeze. Four cylinder-shaped feeders dangled from iron poles above the flowers. “The birds love those feeders. I have to fill them at least twice a week.”

  Trisha’s husband, Frank, nosed his large truck up to the side of the farmhouse and then killed the engine. Whispers erupted from the third seat of the truck, and Rebecca assumed her nieces were analyzing the home.

  Wrenching open the door, Rebecca climbed from the truck. She inhaled a deep breath and hugged her arms to her chest. Birds chirped and a horse brayed in the distance. The familiar sounds were a welcome change from the roar of automobiles, blare of television sets, and electronic rings of cellular phones she had endured at her sister’s home.

  Trisha jumped out from the backseat, her eyes scanning the field. “You and Grace grew up here?”

  A rush of grief flooded Rebecca at the sound of her sister’s name. Unable to speak for a moment, she nodded. “This house has been in our family for generations. Grace and I were both born here and grew up here.”

  Trisha glanced toward the front door. “The land is just gorgeous. Can I go in and freshen up?”

  “Of course,” Rebecca said, folding her arms across her simple black apron covering her caped, plain purple dress. “The washroom is to the right through the kitchen.”

  “I’ll be right back,” Trisha said before heading in the back door.

  Rebecca glanced inside the truck through the open back door and spotted her nieces speaking to each other in hushed tones. Jessica Bedford was a portrait of Grace at fifteen, with her long, dark brown hair, deep brown eyes, high cheekbones, and clear, ivory skin. Lindsay Bedford, on the other hand, was fourteen, with auburn hair, striking emerald eyes, porcelain skin, and a smattering of freckles across her dainty nose.

  Watching her precious nieces, Rebecca’s heart swelled with love. She’d met the girls for the first time when she arrived in Virginia Beach after hearing the news of the accident that took the lives of Grace and her husband, Philip.

  The girls gathered up their bags and climbed from the truck.

  Lindsay gasped as her eyes roamed the scenery. “This looks like a painting.” She turned to her sister. “Can you believe we’re going to live here?”

  “Whatever,” Jessica deadpanned with a roll of her eyes. She chomped her bright pink bubble gum and adjusted her ear buds on the contraption she’d called an iPod. Her obsession with the electronic devices seemed to exemplify the Amish perspective that modern technology interfered with community and family relationships.

  Lindsay pointed to the barn. “Do you have a lot of animals?”

  “We have a few cats, chickens, goats, sheep, a cow, and a couple of horses,” Rebecca said.

  Lindsay’s eyes lit up. “Cool!”

  The gentle clip-clop of a horse pulled Rebecca’s gaze toward the road. A smile turned up the corners of her mouth as Annie and Titus Esh’s horse and buggy traveled past her home.

  “It’s so good to see horses and buggies again,” Rebecca said, waving at her neighbors. “Such a nice change from the traffic jams.”

  “Yeah, but I bet it takes four hours to get to the grocery store,” Jessica mumbled.

  “It’s a much more enjoyable ride, though,” Rebecca quipped with a smile. “There’s no loud radio to take away from the beautiful scenery around us.” She turned her gaze to her garden. “That reminds me. I need to check my flowers.”

  Moving toward her garden, she found that more flowers had bloomed and vegetables had matured while she’d been gone. Daniel must have watered them for her as he’d promised. Stooping, she yanked a handful of weeds. The feeling of her hands on the green plants sent warmth to her soul. Nothing pleased her more than working in her garden. It’s so good to be home.

 
; Jessica sidled up to Rebecca. Slipping her iPod into her bag, her hand brushed the front of her blue T-shirt revealing Grace’s wedding ring hanging from a sparkling chain around Jessica’s neck. “I’ve never seen so many different flowers.”

  “They’re so colorful,” Lindsay said, joining them.

  Rebecca’s smile deepened. Perhaps she’d found a common ground with her nieces — gardening. “My mother planted roses when I was about six,” she said. “I helped trim and water them during the spring and summer.”

  “Your mother planted them?” Jessica turned toward her, her eyes wide with shock. “My grandmother?”

  “Your mother helped in the garden too. It’s sort of a tradition for children to help in the gardens, especially the girls.” She touched her niece’s arm. “Do you like to garden?”

  “I guess.” Jessica shrugged. “I did a little bit with my mom.”

  “I helped her weed,” Lindsay chimed in.

  “Maybe you both can help me sometime,” Rebecca said.

  “Yeah. Maybe,” Jessica whispered. “My mother loved to take care of her roses. I had no idea it was something she did when she was Amish.”

  Rebecca chuckled. “Well, gardening isn’t just an Amish thing, but it is part of our culture. We love the outdoors. It’s a way to praise God and celebrate His glory.”

  Jessica nodded. “That makes sense.”

  “Becky, mei Fraa. Wie geht’s?” a voice behind Rebecca asked.

  Turning, she found her husband, Daniel, pushing back his straw hat to wipe the sweat from his blond brow. He flashed his dimpled smile and her heart skipped a beat. Oh, how she’d missed him during their month apart.

  It was so good to be home!

  “Daniel!” Standing on her tiptoes, she hugged him. “Daniel, I’m doing great now. Oh how I’ve missed you.”

  “I’m glad you’re home,” his voice vibrated against her throat, sending heat through her veins.

  Stepping back, Rebecca motioned toward the girls. “Daniel, these are our nieces I’ve told you so much about on the phone. This is Jessica, and this is Lindsay. Girls, meet your uncle Daniel.”