An Amish Second Christmas

by Beth Wiseman

  Joy reached under the counter for the cleaning bottle, then misted the display case with the watered-down vinegar solution. She wiped the finger smudges off the glass as the bell over the door dinged.

  Joy lifted her gaze fully expecting to see Henry. Her heart deflated a little more each time the door opened and it wasn’t him.

  “Gut afternoon.” Sarah strolled into the shop.

  Jah, it was well past noon all right. Joy tossed her cleaning rag onto the counter. She had given her sister plenty of leeway since Sarah didn’t enjoy working at the bakery, but Joy needed a reprieve.

  Sarah pulled an apron from the wall hook. “Anything I should know?” She glanced about the room as she tied the strings around her waist.

  “I suppose you could make another pot of kaffi. I sold almost three pots. Nau that it’s colder outside, everyone wants something warm to drink.”

  Joy headed to the kitchen area. She packed an assortment of everything she had baked that morning into a pastry box, making sure not to cram the items together. Maybe on her way to the post office to mail the letter to her cousin, she would run into Henry at the hardware store. He always enjoyed her cookies.

  “You baked all that this morning?” Her sister eyed the package.

  Joy nodded. “I wanted to try some new recipes for the Christmas season.” She tied twine around the box.

  “You must’ve been real upset with Henry to make all that.”

  “What did you hear?”

  “Priscilla twisted her ankle—or pretended to—and Henry volunteered to take her home.”

  “Well, they are neighbors,” Joy said.

  “Jah, and Priscilla could have ridden home with her parents.”

  “If she injured her ankle, she wouldn’t have wanted to wait until the bishop and Martha were ready to leave. You know they stay at the service gatherings until the end.”

  “Still, Henry should have been more considerate of your feelings. Doesn’t he remember that yesterday was the anniversary of our parents’ death?”

  She could almost hear the tsk-tsk in her sister’s mind. It wasn’t anything that Joy hadn’t mulled over last night and most of today. She clipped the end of the twine and picked up the box. “I’m off to the post office.”

  “Who are you sending those to?”

  “The hardware store is on the way to the post office, so I thought—”

  “Nay, please tell me you’re nett going to give those to Henry.”

  “He samples all mei new recipes.” Joy pivoted toward the door and snatched her cape from the wall peg. “I’ll see you at home tonight.”

  That wasn’t a good reason, and she didn’t dare turn around and acknowledge her sister’s sigh. Truth be told, she wanted a reason to see him. He’d been indifferent toward her over the past week, and during yesterday’s service, he hadn’t even spoken to her until after she found him with Priscilla.

  Joy untied her mare from the hitching post, then climbed up on the bench. By the time she reached Gingrich Hardware, her stomach had knotted tighter than the twine on the box of sweets. No matter how much she tried to convince herself that Henry had merely offered a neighbor a ride home, the past blared at her. Prior to Henry courting her, he had courted Priscilla. She broke his heart and almost soured him completely about falling in love again.

  The traffic was lighter than usual as Joy merged onto Main Street. It was normal for tourism to taper off after summer, but not usually to this extent. Where were the visitors? The fall colors always brought sightseers to Sugarcreek—the bakery too. Joy stopped at the hardware store and tied Candy to the post in the designated buggy parking area. She pasted on a smile as she entered the store.

  Mr. Gingrich looked up from sorting bolts in a bin. “Gut afternoon, Joy. May I help you find something?”

  “Nay, danki.” She craned her neck to peer down the row.

  “If you’re looking for Henry, he asked for the day off.” The store owner continued sorting the bolts. “He’s helping put up firewood at the bishop’s place.”

  “Danki.” Joy’s lips quivered. Unable to hold her smile, she turned around and rushed out of the building. Within seconds, she had the horse untied and was down the street. Once she reached the post office, she grabbed the letter and box from the bench.

  Joy hadn’t expected to mail the box, but she had some extra money and her cousin would enjoy them. She jotted a note on the back of the envelope asking her cousin for feedback on the cookies. Joy had nibbled on so many they were beginning to taste the same. She untied the twine and slipped the letter inside. Although she asked for Emily’s opinion of the treats, hers wasn’t the one Joy desperately wanted.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Noah Esh glided the sandpaper block along the wood grain of the oak cabinet, then wiped it with tack cloth to remove the fine sawdust. Applying the satin finish on the set of kitchen cabinets wouldn’t take long, but if he didn’t receive the stained glass by tomorrow for the window panels on the cabinet doors, he’d miss his deadline. He’d already checked the mailbox twice and the beveled glass hadn’t arrived. Maybe he shouldn’t have given his Englisch customer so many choices. Next time he wouldn’t show samples of stained glass that he didn’t have in stock.

  Noah applied the first coat of the glossy pecan stain to the cabinets. The strong fumes overwhelmed his senses. One day he would cut another window opening in the shop to create better air circulation. He set the rag on the worktable, deciding to take another walk to the mailbox. Once outside, he drew a deep breath. The crisp October air caused his lungs to spasm and he coughed.

  Finding a crumpled package jammed into the mailbox alarmed Noah. The last time he received one in this mangled condition, the glass was broken. He piled the other mail on top of the package and headed back to the shop. He carefully cut open the box. Instead of finding beveled glass, he found baked goods. Noah flipped back the lid. Stolzfus Bakery. Sugarcreek, Ohio.

  Not the contents he was expecting, but his empty stomach reminded him it was past noon. He removed the letter, peeled back the wax paper, and snatched a frosted cookie with tiny bits of peppermint sprinkled on it. The peppermint practically melted in his mouth. He hadn’t eaten something this tasty since his grandmother passed away.

  Noah filled his cup with coffee from the thermos and selected another cookie. The chocolate one tasted better than most he’d had. He took the package along with his cup of coffee over to the corner of the shop, sat down in the rocking chair, and unfolded the paper.

  October 11

  Dear Cousin Em,

  My life is in shambles, my heart is aching so. I just had to talk with you, even if you’re ten miles away.

  Noah stopped reading. Cousin Em? He flipped the lid once again. The smeared ink made it impossible to read the name on the package. The address wasn’t much clearer. Fieldstone Drive. He turned the box to get a better look in the window light. It was his road all right. But after closer inspection, he made out a squiggly mark that must be an S for south. He lived on the north end.

  Noah chewed the remaining cookie in his mouth and swallowed hard. How would he explain the opened box? And how would he find . . . Cousin Em if he couldn’t read the name or address on the package? The cookies were too good to let go to waste.

  Noah grabbed another cookie from the box. Although guilt pricked his conscience, he was curious as to why the sender felt as though her life was in shambles, so he continued reading.

  . . . I found Henry helping the bishop’s daughter, Priscilla, into his buggy. Apparently, she injured her ankle and Henry was kind enough to drive her home.

  “Kind!” Noah shook his head.

  I probably wouldn’t be so worked up if I wasn’t hurting so badly over missing Mamm and Daed. I’m not sure Henry even remembered they died this time last year. I hadn’t seen him all week . . .

  “Ah, jah. He was with the bishop’s daughter all week. Why else would he take the girl home?” He flipped to the last page and scanned down to t
he bottom.

  Warm wishes,

  Your Cousin J.

  “Has anyone ever told you, ‘J.’ that you’re naïve? A good baker though.” He bit off a piece of the cookie and kept reading.

  Several cookies later, Noah refolded the letter. All ten pages. The woman was a wreck. In parts of the letter the ink was tearstained. Whoever this Henry was, he was no good for her, especially if he forgot the date of her parents’ deaths. Noah had a notion to set her straight. He wished someone had opened his eyes to Ruby. Had he known Ruby was thinking about jumping the fence to become Englisch, maybe he wouldn’t have fallen so hard for her. This Henry sounded like a sneak too.

  Noah stood, tucked the woman’s letter back into the envelope, and set the box of cookies on the table. This had been a nice break, but he needed to get back to work.

  Joy set the bowl of butter beans on the table next to the red potatoes as Sarah poured milk into the glasses, and Lois placed the baked chicken dish on a potholder in front of Matthew’s place setting. She and her sisters worked in harmony to get the meal prepared before Lois’s husband came in from the barn.

  Sarah put the empty pitcher of milk in the sink. “You never said how Henry liked the cookies the other day.”

  Joy sliced the loaf of sourdough bread. “He wasn’t at work.”

  “I saw him chopping wood at the Bylers’ when I took a food dish over,” Lois said. “The bishop’s been sick since the gathering the other nacht.”

  Joy stopped the knife partway through the loaf. “You saw Henry there today?”

  Lois nodded while stirring flour into a saucepan of chicken broth.

  Joy continued slicing the sourdough bread. “So, was Bishop Byler feeling better?” Despite not liking the idea of Henry spending more time around Priscilla, Joy cared deeply for the bishop and his family. He and Martha provided a great deal of support after the fire. Joy and her sisters couldn’t ever repay them for all they’d done to help.

  Sarah leaned closer to Joy. “Have you talked with Henry since the foot-washing service?”

  Joy shook her head.

  “Something’s up. Henry took Priscilla home early that nacht.” Sarah raised her brows. “That would’ve given them two hours—alone,” she muttered under her breath.

  “I don’t know that for sure.”

  Sarah shrugged. “He had to have been there when the bishop came home. How else would Henry know the bishop needed help with his firewood?”

  “They’re neighbors.” Joy ignored Sarah’s raised brows and spoke to Lois. “I made a new peppermint cookie. I might make them for the Second Christmas sleigh ride.”

  “Did you use extract?”

  “That and I crushed some peppermint candies and sprinkled them on top.”

  “Sounds delicious.” Lois glanced at the door as Matthew and their five-year-old son, Philip, stepped into the kitchen. She set the dish on the table and met them at the door. “You’re wet,” Lois said to her son as she helped him remove his coat. “Is it raining?”

  Matthew hung his hat on the hook. “It just started.” He went to the kitchen sink to wash. “The rain will bring more leaves down,” he said to his wife.

  “Better tonight than tomorrow. I want to do laundry in the morning.” Lois made Philip sit so she could tug off his boots, then she nudged him toward the hallway. “Go wash so we can eat.”

  Joy wasn’t able to read her brother-in-law’s expression, but Lois was frowning. The harvest was over. Joy couldn’t imagine why Matthew would be concerned about the leaves falling, or rain for that matter. Maybe it had something to do with the possibility of the rain turning into sleet.

  Matthew dried his hands on a dish towel, then took his place at the table. “Did I hear you say something about peppermint cookies, Joy?”

  “I made a batch the other day,” she said, taking a seat next to Sarah. “But I didn’t bring any home.” Since Matthew found out he was diabetic, Joy tried to make sugar-substituted treats for them to eat at home.

  “There are oatmeal cookies still in the jar.”

  “Nay, danki.” Matthew bowed his head once Philip returned from washing up and everyone was seated at the table.

  Joy’s silent grace wasn’t so much about the food as it was for direction concerning Henry.

  Matthew carved the chicken. “How was business today?”

  “About the same.” Joy placed a spoonful of butter beans on her plate and passed the bowl to Sarah. As the only man in the family, her brother-in-law had become the financial overseer even though Joy and her sisters ran the bakery. He had only recently started inquiring about the daily operations. Before he only seemed interested in what repairs needed attention.

  “Were there many tourists?”

  “Not like last year.” Joy glanced at Sarah. “Did you have many customers after I left?”

  “A few. But I don’t think you have to bake anything in the morning if that’s what you want to know.”

  Joy baked every morning so the baked goods were always fresh. Although most days she didn’t overbake, as she had every day since the foot-washing service. The conversation at the table muffled as her thoughts drifted back to Henry. She wanted to ask Lois more about seeing Henry at the Bylers’, but would wait until they were alone.

  Little Philip was the first to clean his plate. “Can we go back out to the barn?”

  “In a few minutes,” Matthew said. He glanced at Lois. “Bessie will probably deliver tonight.”

  “I get to help,” Philip said. Every day that week, he had raced to the barn after school to see if the calf had arrived. The longer it took his father to finish eating, the more her nephew squirmed in his chair.

  Matthew winked at his wife. He was probably teaching the child patience because everyone was finished when Matthew took another serving of butter beans.

  Joy smiled at her nephew. One day she hoped to have a child just as eager to help deliver livestock.

  Someone knocked on the door, and Lois stood. “I’ll get it.”

  A moment later, Joy’s pulse quickened at the sound of Henry’s voice in the foyer. She padded out of the kitchen as he was asking if she was home.

  Joy smiled. “Hello, Henry.”

  “Hi.” He looked down at the floor the instant their eyes met. He shuffled his feet the same as the first time he’d come to court her.

  Lois returned to the kitchen.

  He motioned to the door. “Could we sit on the porch?”

  “Sure.” She grabbed her black cape and followed him outside. It wasn’t raining hard, more like a drizzle, but the swing bench was wet. “Maybe we should go back inside.”

  “Nay. Let’s just stand.” He cleared his throat. “I’m nett staying long.”

  “Oh. I thought you might stay longer since we’ve hardly seen one another all week.”

  Still not looking her in the eye, he sighed. His shoulders lifted then fell. “I think I’d like to see other people.” He looked at her a moment, then off into the darkness. “You’re always at the bakery anyway.”

  She tried to inhale, but the weight of a boulder lodged in her chest. “When you say other people you mean Priscilla, don’t you?” She closed her eyes when he didn’t respond. “Are you saying you don’t have feelings for me anymore?”

  “I still do.” His dark eyes met hers. “I’m confused.” He looked away. “You’ve been preoccupied with the bakery so much lately.”

  “I’ve worked at the bakery for years, ever since I was a young girl just learning how to bake.”

  “I know.” He shuffled his feet. “But you changed after your parents died. You became consumed with the bakery.”

  “You said you understood. You said everyone handles grief differently. Don’t you remember?” Her words wheezed out.

  “Joy, I don’t want to hurt you, but so much time has gone by . . . we don’t even see much of each other anymore.”

  “Did Priscilla really hurt her ankle?”

  “Jah, she could hardl
y put any weight on it.”

  She couldn’t bring herself to ask if he was still at her house when her parents arrived home.

  “I should probably leave. I have some deliveries to make for the hardware store early in the morning.”

  Joy stepped closer. Close enough that if he reached out his arms, she would be in them. But he didn’t. Nor did he take her hand into his as he had multiple times in the past. Instead, he turned and trotted down the steps.

  Her heart sank. He walked to his buggy without taking so much as one last glimpse over his shoulder.

  The following morning Joy prepared enough jelly-filled pastries to fill the bakery display case. She was cleaning the countertops when the bell above the door rang. Mrs. Yoder, one of her longtime customers, ambled into the store.

  Joy set the rag down and sprang from behind the counter. “It’s nice to see you today,” she said, pulling out a chair for the elderly woman. “Did you enjoy your walk?”

  “It didn’t rain so I can’t complain.” Mrs. Yoder removed her winter bonnet and placed it on the table. “What do you suggest?”

  “The pastries, muffins, and bread I made today.” Joy pointed out the blueberry pastries on the left, the strawberry ones on the right, and the chocolate chip muffins on the second shelf. She gave Mrs. Yoder a few minutes to decide and poured a mug of coffee.

  The woman eyed Joy. “I don’t understand why you’re nett married. Mei grandson needs a fraa.”

  This wasn’t one of Mrs. Yoder’s lucid days. Her grandson married last wedding season. But anytime Joy corrected her, it seemed to confuse her more. Joy set the mug of steaming coffee on the table. “Be careful, this is hot.”