by Beth Wiseman
“Are you going to the singing at the Keims’ on Sunday? It’s the last one before Christmas.”
“Nee. I’ll be at Anne Marie’s.”
Her bottom lip poked out slightly. “Why?”
“I always geh over there on Sundays.”
“Don’t you think it’s time you stopped?”
He put down his fork and looked at her, dumbfounded.
She unclasped her hands. “Nathaniel, she’s leaving.”
“Which is why I’m going over there on Sunday.” He ran his hand across the back of his neck. They wouldn’t have too many Sundays left.
Ruth tapped her fingernail against the edge of her plate. “You’re spending too much time with her. You always have.”
He clenched his hand. “You’re not one to judge how I spend mei time. Or who I spend it with.”
“I don’t mean it that way.” She sighed softly and reached for his hand. He wanted to pull away, but she held onto it with a tight grip. “I care about you, Nathaniel. A lot.” She smiled and squeezed his hand.
He leaned back. When Anne Marie had encouraged him to ask Ruth out, he’d briefly considered it. But so much had changed in a few short days.
“I know you and Anne Marie are gut friends,” she continued, her voice sticky sweet, like the pie he couldn’t finish. “But you have to be realistic. Your relationship with Anne Marie can’t last forever. You can’t spend your Sundays playing games, pretending you’re still kinner. You’re a mann now.” She leaned forward and licked her bottom lip. “You need to be thinking about the future. Maybe one with me.”
He squirmed, finally able to pull his hand away from hers. “Ruth—”
“If you’re worried about Anne Marie, she told me she doesn’t think about you that way.”
“You don’t know that.” The words flew out of his mouth.
Ruth folded her hands in her lap, her smile tightening. “I see.”
“See what?”
“That you have feelings for her.” She shook her head, as if she felt sorry for him. “I can’t say I’m surprised. You wouldn’t be with her so much if you didn’t.”
Her superior tone irritated him. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
She tilted her head. “It’s okay. I’ve talked to Anne Marie about us.” Ruth stood and walked around the table. She moved close to him, then leaned against the table edge. “She’s already given us her blessing.” She touched his shoulder, then bent over and whispered in his ear. “I can help you get over her, Nathaniel. What you feel for her will fade in time.”
He looked up at Ruth but didn’t move beneath her touch. He didn’t appreciate the way she acted like she knew him. She was too pushy, and bolder than he was comfortable with. Yet he could see she was genuine.
And she was right. Anne Marie would always think of him as part of her childhood. Not part of her future.
Ruth reached out her hand. Nathaniel looked at it. Paused. Then hesitantly put his hand in hers.
CHAPTER TEN
On Sunday evening, Anne Marie paced the living room. She kept peeking out the window looking for Nathaniel. An hour after his usual arrival time, she decided he wasn’t coming.
She turned to the coffee table in the living room. She’d already set up the game. Life on the Farm, his favorite. She knelt down and started gathering up the pieces, trying to stem the despair welling up inside. She hadn’t seen him since he’d left with Ruth a few days ago. Today they didn’t have church, so she hadn’t expected to see him until tonight. Hadn’t he promised they’d spend as much time together as possible?
But that was before she’d pushed him and Ruth together. Before she decided to let him go. Before she realized her feelings for him ran deeper than friendship.
Still, she had hoped he would come. Even though she pushed him away, tried to get him out of her mind and heart, she had wanted to see him tonight.
“Why are you putting up the game?” Her mother walked into the living room, holding several white taper candles in plain brass candleholders. She went to the window and placed one on the sill. “Where’s Nathaniel?”
“He’s not coming.”
“Oh?” She turned around. “Did something happen?”
“I guess he couldn’t make it tonight.”
“That’s strange. He never misses game night.” She crossed over to the other window in the living room and put a candle in it. Tomorrow she would tie back the curtains, and in the evening, she and Anne Marie would light the candles for the few nights leading up to Christmas.
“I’m going to Miriam’s tomorrow to talk about wedding preparations.” Her mother smiled, her eyes sparkling. “Would you like to join us?”
Anne Marie fiddled with the lid of the board game. She had promised to be supportive. And she wanted to be. But she couldn’t take discussing wedding plans, especially right now. “I’ll let you know.”
“Oh. Okay.” Her mother’s smile faded a bit.
Anne Marie stood, chastising herself for being selfish. “I’m sorry. Of course I’ll geh.”
“Miriam and I can take care of it.”
“I know, but I want to help. I wasn’t thinking straight when I answered the first time.”
Her mother touched her arm. “Danki, Anne Marie. I’m glad you want to be a part of this.” She started to leave the room.
“Mamm?”
She turned around. “Ya?”
“How did you know you were in love with Thomas?” The question wrested free from her thoughts, like a bird escaping its cage. She hadn’t meant to voice the words or to pry. But suddenly she really wanted an answer.
Her mother sat down on the couch. “I’m not sure how it happened. I can’t really pinpoint a moment when I realized I loved him.”
Anne Marie sat on the floor at her mother’s feet. She wrapped her arms around her knees, the skirt of her dress touching the tops of her stocking-covered feet. “What if you change your mind?”
“What do you mean?”
“When he gets here. What if you regret saying you’ll marry him?”
Mamm crossed her legs at the ankles. “Anne Marie, even though this is sudden to you, it’s not to me and Thomas. We’ve prayed about this. I’ve never been more sure about anything in my life . . . except when I married your daed.” She touched her knees and leaned forward. “Remember, Thomas and I were friends when we were younger. We rekindled that friendship when we started writing each other. One thing I’ve learned is that friends are life’s treasures. But sometimes when you least expect it, a friendship blossoms into love.” Her mother stood. “I hope that eases your mind.”
Anne Marie nodded. It did about Mamm and Thomas, but confused her further about Nathaniel.
“I still have a couple of cookbooks to finish binding. Nothing like doing things at the last minute.”
Popping up to her feet, Anne Marie said, “I’ll help you.”
“I can do them.” She looked at the game on the table. “You shouldn’t put that on the shelf just yet. Nathaniel is sure to come.”
She nodded, but didn’t agree.
After her mother left, Anne Marie sat down on the couch and stared at the game, willing Nathaniel to come as the minutes ticked away. Half an hour later she gave up and put the board game away.
Her mother’s friendship with Thomas started a new beginning, but it appeared that Anne Marie and Nathaniel’s friendship was coming to an end.
Nathaniel stood outside Anne Marie’s house on the edge of the yard by the road. Instead of driving, he had walked, hoping the cold air and exercise would straighten his thoughts. They didn’t, and the closer he got, the more confused and nervous he became. When he arrived, he couldn’t bring himself to go inside.
For the first time in his life, he had no idea what to say to Anne Marie. Should he tell her about his changing feelings toward her? Or follow Ruth’s advice and end their friendship? The thought pained him. Still, he couldn’t deny they both needed to be free of each o
ther in order to move on.
The problem was, he wasn’t sure he wanted to move on.
The light in the window disappeared. Nathaniel exhaled, his breath hanging in cloudy puffs in front of him. A full moon filled the clear sky. He pushed his hat lower on his head, shoved his hands in the pockets of his coat, and headed for home.
“Nathaniel.”
He turned at the sound of Jonah’s voice. The kid was walking toward him from the barn. He didn’t stop until he was a few feet away, close enough that Nathaniel could see the spark of anger in his eyes. “What are you doing?” Jonah asked.
“Leaving.” He hated the dejection in his voice. “Anne Marie’s gone to bed already.”
“Because you didn’t show up for your game.” Jonah put his hands on his hips. He wasn’t wearing a coat, and his stance emphasized his broad shoulders. “I don’t know what’s going on with you two,” Jonah said. “Normally I stay out of things. But when mei schwester is upset, then it becomes mei business.”
Nathaniel faced him. “She’s upset?”
“Of course she is. You left with Ruth Troyer the other day. Then you don’t show up for your weekly game night that’s been going on forever.” He frowned. “Except you did, but you didn’t tell her you were here. I don’t get that at all.”
“It’s complicated.”
“I don’t care.” He stepped forward and looked Nathaniel in the eye, the straight, serious line of his brow illuminated by the silvery moonlight. “If you have something to say to Anne Marie, you need to say it. If not, stop wasting her time.” Jonah turned and started to walk away. “Don’t be a coward, Nathaniel. You’re better than that.”
His ego stinging, Nathaniel opened his mouth to rebuke him. He didn’t have to take advice from Anne Marie’s little brother. Or from Ruth Troyer, for that matter. He could make his own decisions. And it was time he did just that.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“Anne Marie, did you polish the furniture in the living room?”
Anne Marie stilled the broom she was holding and rolled her eyes at the sound of her mother’s frantic voice from the other end of the house. She’d been like this for the past two days, fluttering around, making sure everything was ideal for Thomas’s first supper with them tonight. “Ya, Mamm. I polished it.”
“All of it?”
“Ya.” She went back to sweeping the kitchen as her mother rushed in. Anne Marie looked up and saw the gleam in her eyes, the rosy tint of her cheeks. She put her hand on her mother’s arm. “Everything is fine, Mamm. Don’t worry.”
“I’m not worried.” Mamm hurried to the stove, wiping her hands on her clean apron. She opened the oven, releasing the scent of garlic and peppercorns in the air. “Almost done,” she said, closing the door.
“Gut.” Christopher looked out the kitchen window. “Because he’s coming up the driveway.”
“He’s what?” Her mother turned to Anne Marie. “But supper’s not ready, the table isn’t set—”
“Christopher can set the table,” Anne Marie said.
His jaw slacked. “What? That’s a frau’s job.”
Anne Marie shot him a glare before turning back to her mother. “Geh ahead and let Thomas in. Once you’re settled in the living room, I’ll bring you both a glass of tea.”
“Okay.” Her mother nodded, but seemed anything but okay. Anne Marie smiled. She wasn’t used to seeing her mamm this flustered. She turned her mother by the shoulders and shooed her out of the kitchen.
“Jonah doesn’t have to set the table,” Christopher grumbled.
“I’m sure he’s helping Thomas with his horse.” Anne Marie tasted the mashed potatoes, which were warming on top of the stove. Scrumptious, as usual. She hoped Thomas knew how lucky he was to be marrying a good cook. If he didn’t know, he was about to find out.
A plate landed on the table with a clatter. Anne Marie left the stove and took the rest of the dishes from her brother. “Never mind, I’ll do it.”
Christopher grinned and retreated from the kitchen.
She tried to focus on setting a pretty table, not on the nerve-wracking fact that her mother was in the living room with her future stepfather. As she placed the last plate on the table, she guided her mind elsewhere. It immediately went to Nathaniel, as it had done since Sunday, despite trying to keep herself busy making her candles.
She gripped the edge of the table at the image of Nathaniel and Ruth. Jealousy twisted inside her like an ugly weed winding around her heart. She’d never had a reason to be jealous, and she didn’t like the feeling. For the first time she was looking forward to the move. She couldn’t bear the thought of seeing Nathaniel and Ruth together.
She finished setting the table, calming her frayed nerves with a silent prayer. She set the candle Nathaniel had carved in the middle of the table. Her customer had canceled her order, and Anne Marie decided to keep the beautiful wax creation. Just then her mother walked in the kitchen.
“That’s lovely.” She put her hand on Anne Marie’s shoulder, her face glowing. “Your skills have improved.”
“Danki.” She didn’t bother to explain the truth. It didn’t matter anymore. “Where is Thomas?”
“Talking to Jonah outside. That bu is giving him a thorough questioning.”
“I’m not surprised.” She felt a little sorry for Thomas.
The distant thud of heels against wood sounded right outside the kitchen. “They’re coming. Are you sure everything is okay, Anne Marie?”
She nodded and gave her mother a quick hug. “It is. I promise.”
Jonah and Christopher walked in the kitchen first, followed by a stocky man with a mop of ginger-red hair threaded with gray. His blue eyes were wide set, and he held onto his hat, gripping it by the brim as if it were his lifeline. He looked nothing like her father, who had been taller, thinner, and darker. But he was handsome in his own way.
She glanced at her mother, who couldn’t keep her eyes off him. They both seemed frozen in their own moment. Watching them, Anne Marie realized how deeply her mother loved him, and that he truly loved her.
She relaxed and gave Thomas a genuine smile, beckoning him into the kitchen. “I hope you’re hungry,” she said, pulling out the chair at the head of the table. “Mamm made a feast.”
Anne Marie put away the last clean pot, then drained the dirty dishwater from the sink. Her mother and Thomas had disappeared into the living room after eating. Jonah and Christopher went to the barn, leaving her to clean the kitchen alone.
She wiped down the counter, then turned to the table. The candle was still in the center, unlit. She walked to it, touching one of the delicate white and red curls. The empty kitchen instantly felt too small. She grabbed her coat off the peg by the back door and went outside.
The light of a lantern shone from the barn, where her brothers were probably taking care of the animals for the night. She breathed in the cold air, crossing her arms over her chest. It still hadn’t snowed, unusual for this time of year.
“You’re not too cold out here?”
She turned to see Thomas approach. He had his hat on but wasn’t wearing his coat. “Sure you’re not?” she asked as he arrived at her side.
“I’m a human heater.” He smiled. She could see his slightly crooked teeth gleaming in the darkness. “That’s what my late wife told me.” He paused. “She would have liked you.”
Anne Marie tilted her head and looked at him. “Ya?”
“She appreciated hardworking people. Lydia told me about your candlemaking business. How successful it is. You don’t have success without hard work.”
A knot formed in her throat. It felt good to have someone acknowledge her efforts.
“I know the move will be tough, Anne Marie. I wish it could be different.”
“It’s as God wills.” She turned to him, a sense of peace slipping over her. “I never thought I’d leave Paradise. But that seems to be what God wants of me. Of our family.”
Thomas’s shoulde
rs relaxed. “There’s a busy tourist business in Holmes County,” he said, his deep voice sounding less tentative. “You won’t have any problem finding customers for your candles.”
“That’s gut.” She turned to him and gave him her warmest smile. “We should geh back inside. I’m sure Mamm is waiting for you.”
He faced her and swallowed. “Your Mamm said you were something special. She was right.”
“She was right about you too.”
As they walked back inside, Anne Marie realized everything would be okay. While she was still unsure about Nathaniel and the part he would play in her life in the future, she was sure about one thing. Thomas Nissley was a gut man who made her mother happy. She couldn’t ask for more.
CHAPTER TWELVE
While Christmas Day was a time of contemplation and quiet celebration of Christ’s birth, the day after Christmas was anything but.
The Smucker house was filled to bursting with people. Jonah and Christopher were playing Dutch Blitz against Seth and Thomas, who in a few short days had fit seamlessly into the family. Mamm was holding a sleeping Leah while Aenti Miriam played blocks with Junior on the floor. Anne Marie watched her mom and Thomas sneaking sweet glances at each other when they thought no one was looking.
Anne Marie stood to the side, breathing in the scent of fresh popped corn, buttered and seasoned to mouthwatering perfection. Flames flickered on several of her vanilla and cinnamon candles, their sweetly spiced aroma mixing with the mugs of warm apple cider. She heard the laughter, saw the smiles. And wished she could share in their happiness, instead of being on the sidelines.
She hadn’t forgotten that Nathaniel had a standing invitation for Second Christmas, but apparently he had. He was probably with Ruth and her family today. Or maybe with his own.
She went in the kitchen to fix herself a cup of hot cocoa. Her mind wandered back in time, to all the memories she held close over the years. She thought about when she and Nathaniel were eight and they’d lie in the grass, counting the stars, only to end up covered in mosquito bites. When she was twelve and he and her brothers had hidden in the loft of the barn and dumped a bucket of cold water on her head when she walked in. But she had gotten him back when she stuck a frog in his coat pocket before he went home.
