The Amish Christmas Sleigh

by Kelly Long

  “Forgive me,” he said slowly. “I put that badly. I need help and perhaps you do, too. And Ben—he has a gut mind and could learn a trade despite his disability.”

  She nodded. “That’s true—but the, um, hauskeeping . . . how often would that be? Only for December?”

  She told herself that she imagined the relief in his sky-blue eyes when he nodded his head. “Jah . . . for December, say, every weekday and then maybe once a week after that. And Ben can kumme as often as school allows.”

  Then he named a sum for wages that made her eyebrows shoot up in surprise. I’d be able to save something for the first time in years and maybe get a few gifts for Ben for Second Christmas.

  “When would I, er, we start?” she asked, trying to rein in her excitement at the possibility of actually being in his home on a brief, though regular basis.

  “How about Monday?” he asked, and she thought he suddenly seemed restless. No doubt having made his decision, he wanted to be gone, so she got to her feet and extended her hand.

  “Danki, Herr Christner. I accept.”

  He slid back his chair and got to his feet, his hand immediately engulfing hers. “Sebastian, sei se gut. Just call me Sebastian.”

  She nodded, secretly savoring the taste of his given name on the tip of her tongue while she watched him put on his coat and hat. Then she saw him to the door with a tentative smile. She realized she was watching the play of his lean hips beneath his long coat as he descended the snow-dusted steps, when he half-turned to wave a hand good-bye. She quickly closed the door and turned to press against it for a moment as she closed her eyes in a brief prayer of thanksgiving for the provision of work. Then she opened her eyes and set her chin. If she was going to be a good hauskeeper, she might as well start with keeping herself away from him, along with every other interested woman on the mountain . . .

  CHAPTER 3

  “No siree, I got plenty of time ta sit and listen ’bout how you’re screwin’ up yer life.”

  Sebastian sighed and leaned a hip against a workbench full of tools and wood shavings. He probably shouldn’t have told his Englischer best friend, Tim Garland, about hiring Kate, but as he glanced around the workshop, he grimaced at the mess. He was a master toymaker, but lousy at cleaning up.

  He frowned at his best friend and knew the older man wasn’t likely to let the matter go easily. Tim Garland was as irascible as a timber rattler, but he was a gut man who saw that Sebastian’s toys never failed to reach the post on time.

  “She fed me cookies.”

  “Lord, have mercy . . . I know yer weakness for cookies.”

  “Tim, kumme on. If you think this workshop is cluttered, you must not have seen inside my cabin lately—it’s a mess, to say the least.” Sebastian picked up a small lathe and ran a practiced finger down its length.

  “The mess never bothered you before.” Tim harrumphed. “You’re woman-hungry, boy, that’s what.” He squared his spry shoulders. “I knows it when I see it.”

  Sebastian snorted. “You don’t know a shirt from a skirt, my friend. I simply saw an opportunity to help a family, and I did it—that’s what Gott expects of us.”

  “Aw, don’t go gettin’ all Amisch on me, Seb . . . I’ve knowed you too long.” Tim laughed, revealing a gap of missing front teeth, and Sebastian had to smile.

  “All right—I’ll admit she’s got pretty eyes. She’s also got a hurt buwe . . . And a too-small house and not enough toys . . . or happiness—I couldn’t let it go.”

  Tim got to his feet and stretched, then adjusted his ball cap and zipped up his parka. “Well, there’s some truth, anyway . . . All right, boy, I’ll see you Monday for another load.”

  The old man bagged the five brown paper–wrapped packages and opened the door, letting the snow blow inside for a moment while Sebastian waved him off.

  Then Sebastian went back to his worktable, pushing aside his friend’s words, and concentrating on the making of a miniature wooden Noah’s ark that he needed to finish and ship to California before Christmas.

  “Yep,” he muttered aloud, peering at a half-formed pair of giraffes, along with all the other projects that were in various stages of completion. “I definitely have no time for romance . . .” Yet one part of his brain kept seeing Kate’s jewel-blue eyes, highlighted by white snow, and he wondered uneasily if he was being entirely truthful with himself . . .

  “Do you have your service satchel packed, Ben?” Kate asked, rushing as usual to get breakfast cleaned up before the community’s bimonthly Sunday church meeting. She and Ben rode with her cousin Daniel and his wife, Fran, and somehow Kate always managed to be late.

  “I’m too auld to have a satchel,” Ben said, but Kate waved aside his words.

  “Every buwe and maedel is allowed to bring a puzzle or coloring book to service to keep them occupied, Ben. You’d never make it through the three hours without your satchel.”

  “I would, too. I like to listen to the singing and to Bishop Umble’s sermons or the deacons when it’s their turn. I’m growing up, Katie, especially since I’m going to apprentice with Herr Christner. I wonder if we’ll see him to talk to today?”

  Kate paused in pulling her cloak off the peg near the door and felt with absent fingers around the front of her warm bonnet. What if Sebastian did speak to her? Normally, he would barely nod in her direction, or any single girl’s direction, for that matter. But now she was his hauskeeper—she hugged the thought to herself and went to help Ben button his coat.

  “I think, Ben, that Herr Christener is a very private man, so maybe we shouldn’t tell anyone yet about our new jobs.”

  “A secret?” He smiled up at her. “Wunderbaar!”

  Then a brisk knock on her front door alerted her that Daniel and Fran must be ready in the big sleigh.

  Kate hurried to fling open the door and tightened her bonnet strings as a sharp wind blew inside.

  “Fran’s waiting,” Daniel said, bending to lift Ben up and carry him outside.

  Kate followed, feeling her mood dampen a bit. Fran was not always kind with her words, but Kate understood. Last Christmas, when little boppli Alice passed away from pneumonia, it had been almost more than Fran could bear, and she was still bitter to this day.

  So Kate readied a smile as she slipped under the lap blankets and cuddled close to Ben, who loved the hot potatoes that Daniel always placed in the bottom of the sleigh for extra warmth.

  “Hiya, Fran. I’m sorry to keep you waiting in the cold,” Kate said clearly.

  The jangle of harness as the horse set out dispelled the bleak look Fran threw in Kate’s direction. “Does it really matter, Kate?” the older woman asked. “You’re always late and you always will be.”

  And that is that . . . Kate sighed to herself, then found peace in the gumdrop-shaped bushes, mounded with a frosting of white snow, and forgot her cousin’s irritation for the moment.

  Sebastian was exhausted. He’d stayed up until 4 a.m., then fallen into bed for a fitful hour, only to get back up and start to get mentally ready for Sunday service. His hands had itched to do a bit of work, but he knew that the bishop wouldn’t have approved, so he’d prayed instead, then gone to help set up benches in Ben Kauffman’s big barn.

  As he set the hard, backless benches in place, he had a sudden image of Ben Zook trying to hold any position comfortably with his crutches for the long service. It was something Sebastian hadn’t considered before, and he hurried over to Bishop Umble.

  “Sebastian—” The auld man had smiled up at him. “What do you need with such urgency?”

  “It’s Ben Zook,” he’d blurted out. “The buwe should have a chair to sit on for church, something more comfortable for his legs.”

  Bishop Umble had smiled faintly. “A chair? I suggested it to Kate once and she told me he was fine, but I, too, would feel better if the child had better support for his back. I’ll leave it to you to convince her before church starts. We’ll put a chair at the end of the row where
they normally sit. Danki, Sebastian.”

  As he’d watched the bishop walk away to attend to something else, Sebastian realized he was now required to somehow convince Kate to allow Ben the chair. He wanted to groan aloud; the only place he could talk with her would be outside, when Daniel Zook arrived, and the more he talked to any girl, the more it was sure to set tongues wagging in gossip. Still, he had hired her as his hauskeeper, so he might as well get used to it . . . But persuading Kate Zook when she had her mind set was probably not an easy task, and he turned wearily to go and watch for the family’s sled to arrive in the thick snow.

  Kate stared over Fran’s head at the unmistakable sight of Sebastian Christner standing, apparently waiting, for Daniel’s sled to arrive. He waved at her cousin with a gloved hand and caught the reins Daniel tossed down to him.

  Kate was very aware of other community women arriving by sled with their families and looking in their direction, and she felt her heart begin to thump alarmingly. Even Fran gave her a sideways, suspicious glance. And Ben was practically hollering in greeting and scrambling to get to the side of the sleigh in his enthusiasm to see Sebastian.

  Kate missed whatever quiet exchange happened between the two men when Daniel exited the sleigh, but somehow, after Sebastian had greeted her bruder and Fran, Kate found herself alone with him as the others went off into the barn. Probably he’s changed his mind about me working for him . . . But then she moved to put her foot on the metal rung used to climb down from the sleigh and Sebastian lifted her easily and swung her to the ground as if she weighed no more than thistledown.

  Kate had never thought of herself as especially feminine, certainly not dainty or one who needed caring for, but in that moment, the big man before her had made her feel every inch a woman—and one who was heated from the inside out despite the cold. She smiled uncertainly up at him and he returned the gesture, though there was something in his light blue eyes that she couldn’t read.

  “Uh, Kate—I, um, was setting up benches early this morning for church service . . .” He began, then seemed to lose direction.

  “That’s nice,” she said inanely.

  “And I thought of Ben.”

  Ben?

  “Jah, I asked the bishop if Ben might have a chair to sit in for service and he agreed, that is, if you agree.”

  He spoke in a rush, as if anxious to get the words out, and she had the absurd notion to giggle. It was one thing to stand on pride with auld Bishop Umble and quite another to try to do it when one of the most handsome men on the mountain—not to mention her new employer—was asking the same question.

  “Ben may have a chair . . . I suppose I have always tried not to let his injury stand out, and in doing so, I’ve been a bit prideful.” And perhaps neglectful of what Ben really needs . . . She looked down at the white ground until Sebastian’s deep voice caused her to lift her chin.

  “I would imagine you’ve always done your best for Ben. He’s blessed to have such a gut sister.”

  She nodded, too unsure to speak without tears. No one has ever noticed my life with Ben and certainly never praised me for it . . .

  “Danki,” she whispered.

  He nodded. “Kumme, take my arm. The ground is slippery. I’ll walk you in.”

  She folded her fingertips tentatively around his bent arm, feeling the warmth of his body through his coat sleeve, and felt like an Englisch princess to be so escorted. Of course, she dropped her hand at the entrance to the barn, but not before many had seen and she had to slip into her place next to Ben with her eyes downcast but her heart uplifted in thanksgiving to Gott.

  CHAPTER 4

  When the service started with its usual progression of hymns, Sebastian longed to let his eyes slip closed in weary lassitude, but for some reason he couldn’t fathom, his hands tingled when he remembered the firm feel of Kate’s waist as he swung her down from the sleigh. He sighed inwardly—maybe Tim Garland was right—he was woman-crazy. He choked back a laugh, then thought with seriousness that not many women would have shown the courage Kate had to admit that they’d been prideful. . . . I admire her for her gumption, that’s all.

  Then he tried to focus as Bishop Umble took his place before the community to speak. The auld, long-bearded man paced before the group with his gnarled hands folded behind his back while his wise eyes seemed to take in everyone gathered.

  “In the book of Hebrews, we read that ‘Faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see . . .’”

  Sebastian recalled the verse and thought of its absolute truth, but knew he did not always live by it. Still, he leaned forward a bit, anxious to catch each word of the sermon despite his uneasy feeling that he had a migraine headache coming on.

  He started to pray, asking Gott that the migraine might pass him by, because he knew how much work he needed to get done the next day, then he abandoned the petition as Bishop Umble’s words struck home.

  “So what do you hope for?” the bishop asked. “The rest of the world might hope for riches, freedom from sickness and disease, or even a bigger home, but you, Amisch men and women of Ice Mountain, what do you hope for in your secret hearts?”

  The question hung in the chill air and haunted Sebastian. He knew what he wanted, but it could never be. Never. What was done was done, and though Der Herr might forgive his sin, he must always bear the consequences of his actions.

  Sebastian gazed down at his folded hands in front of him, and the rest of the sermon slipped away from his consciousness. Hours later, he got to his feet to file out of the barn, and his head throbbed with the beginnings of pressure and pain.

  Kate saw Ben ensconced at the children’s table among his young friends, then went to help Ann Kauffman with the serving. In the summer months and springtime, it was much easier to have the community gather for Sunday dinner following service, but in the winter, folks had to eat in shifts but usually congregated in groups according to age and interests. The young men would stand and hold their plates while the graybeards would eat at the main table. The women would usually serve and then eat last.

  Ann Kauffman smiled tiredly when she saw Kate. “Ach, would you go into the second pantry and get more sugar? Danki, Kate . . .”

  The “second pantry” ran adjacent along the wall to the first pantry and was in truth simply another closet filled with kitchen supplies, though having a second pantry was of great use to many a haus frau.

  Kate forgot to grab a lantern in her haste to help and found herself in the nearly dark pantry, looking for the sack of sugar, when she froze in mid-movement. Through the thin side wall, she heard the unmistakable sound of Sebastian’s deep voice coming from the other pantry. And she found herself helplessly eavesdropping . . .

  “Uh, I’m afraid I didn’t bring a light, and it’s impossible to know where the canned pears are with as many gut things as your cousin Ann puts up every year.” Sebastian kept his voice level, not wanting to offend the pretty nineteen-year-old Tabitha Deitweiler, a young relative of his hostess. But the girl was, without a doubt, taking distinct advantage of the dark to touch his chest.

  “I apologize, Herr Christner . . . I had no idea you were in here,” she purred, letting her fingers rise to stroke his throat.

  Yeah, right . . . He felt annoyance begin to compound the headache he had originally sought refuge from in the small, dark room and carefully caught her wrists.

  “Listen . . . Tabitha. There’s many a man who would no doubt love a few stolen moments with you, but I should warn you that some might try to take advantage of your willing—er, the situation.”

  He could envision her pout as she pulled her hands free from his, only to have another go, this time encircling his neck.

  “You sound like my fater,” she whined.

  “I’m auld enough to be your daed . . .” If I’d been as promiscuous as you probably are at your age . . .

  “But I like older men,” she said, obviously straining for his mouth and hitting his chi
n.

  He put her firmly from him and reached behind her to open the door, letting in light from the kitchen. Mercifully no one was near the pantry or he’d have been accused of philandering, and somehow, all he could think of was Kate Zook and what her reaction would be to that kind of a situation.

  “Go,” he commanded the petulant Tabitha.

  She huffed and obeyed. “You’re no fun,” she hissed over her shoulder, but he was simply glad to lean against the shelf for a moment, deciding that his migraine was worsening and that he’d have to make his excuses and go home.

  Kate waited with bated breath until she heard Sebastian’s heavy footsteps exit the first pantry. She felt like giving Tabitha Deitweiler a firm swat on the backside for waylaying Sebastian, and she knew a certain pride in his more-than-honorable response. But it made her wonder exactly what kind of girl he would like to meet in a dark room—not that she wanted to be that kind of girl. But still, the idea is—interesting. She felt herself flush and happened to run her hand across the middle shelf, coming in contact with a large sack. She poked a finger inside, then tasted it, realizing she’d found the sugar. She hurriedly grabbed the sack and headed back out into the kitchen, deliberately concentrating on Ann’s bustling form and feeling a little embarrassed at her eavesdropping.

  “Ach, danki, Kate. Now, if you might go round and refill the sugar bowls, I’d be grateful,” Ann said in passing.

  Kate hurried to comply with her hostess’s wishes, but when she happened to glance around the room, she realized Sebastian was nowhere in sight. She did notice Tabitha Deitweiler, though, making eyes at one of the King youths, and Kate wanted to wring her neck. Then she quickly sought prayer in response to her uncharitable thoughts and finished with the sugar bowls.