An Amish Second Christmas

by Beth Wiseman

  But it already had, and they both knew it.

  “I’ll write to you, even if you don’t write back,” he added. “And I promise I’ll visit.”

  Until he forgot about her. She nearly choked on the bitter thought.

  “I’m also serious about spending more time together. I took the daag off from work.”

  Her eyes widened. “Your daed let you do that?”

  “When I told him I was coming to see you, he didn’t have a problem with it.”

  Anne Marie’s heart tripped a beat. She’d never known him to put anything ahead of work. That he would set it aside to spend time with her . . .

  But she had vowed to let him go. She grabbed a dishrag from the sink and started rubbing down the already clean counter. “I’m really behind on work. I have a lot of candles to make.”

  “I can help you.”

  She glanced over her shoulder at him. “It’s pretty boring work.”

  “You don’t seem to think so. You love it.”

  True. She paused. What would it hurt for them to make a few candles together? It wasn’t like she could refuse the help. “All right. As long as you don’t mind.”

  “I never mind being with you, Anne Marie.”

  She turned and put her hand over her quickening heart. Letting him slip out of her life wasn’t going to be easy.

  “Nathaniel, you’re a terrible candlemaker.”

  Anne Marie thought she’d given him the simplest job, dipping red tapers, but he dipped them either too fast or too slow. The last ten he made were lopsided and had drips down the sides. She glanced at him, his brow furrowed in concentration. At least his terrible candlemaking had made her finally relax around him. “For all the delicate work you do on watches and clocks, I’m surprised.”

  “Watches and clocks are easier to deal with, trust me.” He smirked as he looked at her, holding a hoop of candles over the wax-dipping can. “You should give me a break. This is mei first time, remember?”

  Anne Marie took the warped candles from him and set them on the counter. Two years ago when she’d taken over the candlemaking business from her mother, she converted a small garden shed into her own workshop. A gas-powered heater kept the workshop warm, along with several metal tubs of colored, melted wax warming over three camping stoves. She’d recycle the wax later and make proper candles, but right now she needed to give Nathaniel a different job.

  She looked up at the two fancy carved candles on a shelf by the door. She used them as samples of her more intricate work, which she made for Englisch customers. She’d just made a red-and-white-layered cylinder candle. It was warm and pliable and ready to be carved. With his skilled hands, maybe he’d do better with a more complex job.

  She picked up the sample candle and set it on the small round table in the middle of the workshop. Then she pulled out the chair. “Have a seat.”

  “For what?”

  “To carve this.” She put the freshly dipped candle next to the sample and handed him three carving tools. “Make this plain one look like the fancy one.”

  “You’re kidding.” He eyed the sample. “I can’t do this. I messed up your simple candles.”

  “Nathaniel, I know how well you draw. I’ve also seen the nice work you do on those wooden clock cases. I think you can handle carving the candle. It doesn’t have to look exactly like that one. Just make it pretty.”

  “Pretty.” He sat down, still looking dubious.

  “All right, then. Make it nice.”

  “Nice I can do.” He studied the sample, picked up a round-tipped tool, and started to carve.

  “You have to work quickly,” she said, watching him cut and pull down thin strips of the candle, revealing the stacked red and white layers beneath. “If the candle cools it will be hard to work with.”

  “That won’t be a problem.” He wiped beads of perspiration from his forehead with the back of his hand.

  “If it is, tell me, and I’ll warm it—” But she could see he had already tuned her out. She should have had him do this to begin with. The candle was already looking better than pretty, with curlicues that surpassed her sample.

  She turned to the pots of wax and started working on more red tapers.

  “This is a nice workshop,” he said from behind her. “I should have come in here before.”

  “Uncle Seth helped me fix it up. It was easier to work out here while Mamm perfected her recipes in the kitchen.”

  “Smells pretty gut too. Like . . .”

  “Vanilla and cinnamon?”

  “Ya.”

  “Those are the most popular scents for Christmas.” She forced the wicks out of the candles he’d ruined and folded the soft wax in her hand. “I make scented ones for the candle jars. They’re already finished, thank goodness, or I’d be really behind.” She dropped the ball of wax in the red wax can.

  When he didn’t say anything, she turned and checked his progress. Her eyes widened. The candle was beautiful, better than she could have ever made, even with years of practice. Nathaniel had put his own design on the candle. The base was a solid red, which would be shiny after she dipped it in the final setting wax. The strips of wax were curled over and under each other, with some rolled at the top to resemble tiny candy canes. The top of the candle was pure white, with small hearts carved in a wavy pattern a few inches from the rim.

  “Oh, Nathaniel.” She sat perched on the edge of his chair. “It’s so schee.” She carefully touched one of the delicate candy canes. The wax was still warm, but hard enough that it didn’t give under the light pressure of her finger.

  “You think so?” He peered at the candle, turning his head to look at it from different angles. “I think the hearts are crooked.”

  “The hearts are stunning. Mrs. Potter will love this candle.”

  He looked at her, his chin nearly touching her shoulder. They were so close she could see the light shadow of dark-brown stubble on his face. “We make a pretty gut team, ya?” he said, smiling.

  But she couldn’t speak. All she could do was stare at him, taking in his golden eyes. Why had she never noticed they were the color of honey before? Or that his breath smelled sweet, like the peppermints he was fond of chewing when the weather turned cold? They reminded him of Christmas, he always said.

  And why hadn’t she ever noticed how badly she wanted to kiss him?

  “Anne Marie—”

  “Nathaniel—”

  They both stopped speaking. She thought his mouth was moving closer to hers. Or maybe she was hoping it was. It didn’t matter, because her heart was certain that in a few seconds, she would know for sure.

  A moment ago, Nathaniel wanted to bite off his tongue. He shouldn’t have told Anne Marie what a good team they made. Just like he shouldn’t be sitting this close to her.

  But when she sat down on his same chair, he couldn’t bear to move. It didn’t matter that there was only one chair in the room and she had nowhere else to sit. He liked it. He liked everything about her—the way her lips pursed, the rosy color appearing on her cheeks, her pale-blue eyes that were so clear and vulnerable, his pulse thrummed. His heart ached at the thought of her leaving. He knew letters and visits wouldn’t be enough for him.

  Things had changed between them. He could feel it, and he didn’t want to resist. Unable to stop himself, he leaned forward, closer . . . closer . . .

  “Knock, knock!” said a female voice.

  His head jerked from Anne Marie’s. He looked over her shoulder and swallowed. Ruth Troyer walked inside.

  CHAPTER NINE

  “There you are!”

  Anne Marie shot up from the chair and turned around, almost knocking over Nathaniel’s perfect candle. “Ruth?” She struggled to catch her breath. “What are you doing here?”

  “Trying to find you.” She walked farther inside and pulled a piece of paper out of the pocket of her coat. “I know it’s late notice, but Grossmutter decided she needed more candles to put in the windows for Chr
istmas. I told her it might be better if she got them at the store, but she wouldn’t think of it.”

  Anne Marie took the paper from Ruth, hoping her friend didn’t see the flames of embarrassment rising in her cheeks. “She’s always been a loyal customer.”

  “Ya.” But Ruth wasn’t looking at Anne Marie. Her gaze was planted on Nathaniel, who was putting finishing touches on the carved candle, his hand as steady as ever, while Anne Marie’s insides were quaking.

  Maybe she’d imagined the whole thing. And the thought of kissing Nathaniel never should have entered her mind. But now she couldn’t think about anything else.

  Ruth leaned close to Anne Marie. “What’s Nathaniel doing here?” she whispered.

  “Helping me. I’m behind on my orders.”

  “Oh.” She kept staring at Nathaniel, but he didn’t seem to notice. “Did you tell him?”

  “What?”

  “About . . . you know.” Ruth tilted her head in his direction.

  “I think I’m done.” Nathaniel put down the tool and leaned back.

  “My goodness!” Ruth clasped her hands together and walked over to the table. “Nathaniel, I had no idea you were so talented. It’s the most perfekt candle I’ve ever seen.”

  Anne Marie rolled her eyes. Then she realized she had said almost the same thing. But hearing it from Ruth irritated her.

  Nathaniel looked at Ruth. “I’m glad it turned out all right.”

  “It’s better than all right.” She bent down, as if she was inspecting the candle with great concentration. She leaned over a bit too far and put her hand on Nathaniel’s shoulder.

  “Sorry. Lost mei balance.” But she didn’t remove her hand.

  “It’s fine.” He glanced at her, and didn’t move either.

  Anne Marie crumpled the piece of paper in her hand.

  “Is this candle for sale?” Ruth asked Nathaniel. “I’d like to buy it.”

  “Nee.” Anne Marie swooped up the candle and put it on her workbench. “It’s already spoken for.”

  “Oh. Well, maybe I can order another one. As long as Nathaniel carves it.”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know, I’m just helping Anne Marie out for a little while.”

  “Actually, I don’t need any more help.” She glared at him. He seemed to be enjoying Ruth’s touch a little more than necessary. Just a few days ago she was encouraging him to ask Ruth out. Now the thought of them together made her sick.

  But it was for the best, wasn’t it? Hadn’t she come to that conclusion herself last night?

  “I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry,” Ruth said. “We should have some lunch.” She looked at Anne Marie. “Don’t you think so?”

  Anne Marie didn’t miss the pleading message in her friend’s eyes. She couldn’t be mad at Ruth, who didn’t know about the turmoil going on inside of Anne Marie. “I’m not really hungry. But you and Nathaniel can get something to eat.”

  He finally moved from underneath Ruth’s grasp. “That’s okay, Anne Marie,” Nathaniel said. “I can stay and help.”

  “Like I said, I don’t need any help.” She stared at him, crossing her arms.

  “But I thought you were behind on your orders.”

  “I just got caught up.”

  Ruth moved in between them. “She said she wasn’t hungry, Nathaniel. But I’m starving. Do you mind sharing lunch with me?”

  Bewildered, Nathaniel looked at Ruth, her light-brown eyes practically begging him to say yes, and Anne Marie, whose pale-blue eyes seemed colder than chipped ice. What was wrong with her? She’d gone from being her usual happy self to being snappish. No, not just snappy. She was angry. Was she mad that he tried to kiss her? Or did he do something else wrong?

  “Going to lunch with Ruth is a great idea,” Anne Marie said, unfolding her arms and going to the door. When she opened it, a welcome blast of cool air swept through the small workshop. Sweat rolled down his back as Anne Marie’s cold gaze landed on him. “You two geh have lunch.”

  His brows pulled in. Usually he could figure out what she was thinking. Anne Marie wasn’t exactly a closed book. But she’d shut herself off from him, and he didn’t like it.

  “Come on, Nathaniel,” Ruth said. “We’ll geh to mei haus. I’ll make you the most appeldicht roast beef sandwich you’ve ever had. Plus apple pie for dessert.”

  “You don’t have to geh to so much trouble.” He kept his gaze on Anne Marie. She looked away, then finally turned her back on him and started dipping candles, as if both he and Ruth were invisible.

  Fine. If she wanted to play games, so be it. She could be so childish it drove him ab im kopp.

  But she was also funny. Talented. Intelligent. Beautiful.

  “Nathaniel?” Ruth was already halfway out the door.

  He paused, then turned. “Coming.” He walked out the door with Ruth, but his mind was still on Anne Marie.

  “Ouch!” Anne Marie peeled off a small splash of melted wax from the back of her hand. She’d been careless since Nathaniel and Ruth left a short while ago. Her last batch of tapers looked worse than his. She put her hands against the edge of the counter and closed her eyes, praying for focus and patience.

  The door opened, and for a second, her heart flipped over, thinking Nathaniel had returned. But it was only her brother. “What do you want, Jonah?”

  He held up his hands. “What are you snapping at me for?”

  “Sorry.” She squeezed the bridge of her nose with her fingertips. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

  “It’s okay.” Jonah came over to her workstation. “The candles look great.”

  “Liar.” She picked up the warped tapers and held them in front of him.

  “I didn’t mean those.” He pointed to Nathaniel’s candle. “That’s the best one you’ve done.”

  “It’s not mine. It’s Nathaniel’s.”

  “Ah.”

  She looked at him. “Okay, Jonah. Why are you here? You never come in the workshop.” He’d always complained it was too hot, smelly, and cramped.

  “Just checking on you. We haven’t had much time to talk about . . . you know.”

  She sat down. Jonah was rarely in a talking mood, and she could see he needed her undivided attention. “How do you feel about it?”

  He shrugged. “I think I’m okay with it now.”

  “You sure?”

  “Ya. Mamm’s happy. That’s what I want.” He picked at the bumpy dots of hardened wax on her worktable. “How about you?”

  She tossed the useless candles to the side, not in the mood to fix them. “I’ve already told Mamm I’m happy for her. The rest will work itself out.”

  “Ah.”

  “Would you stop that!” She faced him. “Jonah, I’m okay with Mamm getting married, I’m okay with moving to Ohio. Everything is absolutely fantastic. Couldn’t be better.”

  “Now look who’s lying.”

  She hunched her shoulders. When did her brother suddenly grow up? He was acting like an older brother, not a younger one. “Okay, maybe not fantastic. But it’s well enough.” She picked up a candle rack. “If you’re done drilling me with questions, I have to get back to work.”

  “Your sour mood wouldn’t have anything to do with Nathaniel leaving with Ruth Troyer?”

  She kept her head down. “Why would I care if Nathaniel is with Ruth?”

  “I don’t know. Do you?”

  This sibling chitchat was making her head pound. “Jonah, I’m the one who suggested he geh out with her. It was a coincidence that they were both here at the same time, and she invited him for lunch. End of story.”

  “Okay. As long as you’re not upset or anything.”

  “I’m not! Now get out of here so I can finish these candles!”

  Jonah backed away. Then he paused, as if wanting to say something.

  Her patience was paper-thin. “What now?”

  “Nix.” He shook his head and hurried out the door.

  She put her head into he
r hands, frustrated. She’d been rude to her brother, she was upset with Ruth, and she resented Nathaniel. “Ya, everything is just perfect,” she muttered.

  She lifted her head and took in a deep breath. Her face heated, and not because of the hot wax in the pots on the camper stoves. How could she have been so foolish to think Nathaniel would want to kiss her? And why, after all these years of friendship, was the thought of him being with Ruth almost unbearable? So much had changed between them in such a short time. She’d never been so confused.

  She stepped away from her workbench and closed her eyes. Lord, help me.

  “I hope you like the pie.” Ruth set a plate in front of Nathaniel, filled with the largest piece of pie he’d ever seen. She must have given him almost half of it. But after a huge lunch of an open roast beef sandwich smothered in gravy, pickled eggs, and cabbage slaw, he wasn’t sure he could eat another bite. For sure, Ruth could cook.

  She could also talk. And talk and talk and talk. Sitting in front of her, he could see her mouth moving but had no idea what she was saying. He’d tuned her out halfway through the meal. Apparently she’d never heard the old saying that silence was golden.

  He and Anne Marie could spend hours together. Fishing, playing checkers, sitting on the grass at the edge of a pond—it didn’t matter where they were. Neither of them ever felt the need to fill the silence between them.

  He frowned. If Ruth hadn’t walked in, he would have kissed Anne Marie. The thought of kissing his best friend should unnerve him. Instead, he was irritated he didn’t get the chance.

  But clearly she had a different idea. She couldn’t wait to shove him out the door with Ruth.

  “Is there something wrong with the pie?” Ruth asked.

  He blinked, her face coming into focus. “Nee. Why?”

  “You haven’t tried it yet.” She folded her hands on the table and smiled, her posture as straight as a fence post. “I picked the apples myself, from the Bakers’ orchard. I know they’re an Englisch familye, but they grow the best apples in the area. Do you like their apples?”

  “I guess.” He took a bite of the pie. The flaky crust dissolved in his mouth. Wow. He could probably choke this down, even with his full stomach.