An Amish Second Christmas

by Beth Wiseman

  She peered out the kitchen window. Large, fluffy flakes of snow floated down from the dark sky. A white Christmas after all. She took her hot chocolate and stepped out on the back porch. Stuck her tongue out and caught a snowflake. Another memory with Nathaniel. She’d never realized until now that most of her sweetest memories included him.

  She didn’t know how long she stood outside, sipping lukewarm hot chocolate, wrapped in a cloak of the past, until she noticed her own shivering and the snow that had blanketed the ground.

  When she went back into the kitchen, her aunt was putting two mugs in the sink. She looked up at Anne Marie. “I wondered where you went off to.” She grimaced. “Have you been outside long? You must be freezing.”

  Anne Marie set the half-full mug in the sink. “I just needed some fresh air.”

  “I’m pleased with how you’re handling this, Anne Marie. I know you were troubled at first, but I’m glad you’ve come to terms with everything.”

  Not everything. She exhaled. “I’m sorry for the way I acted when I first found out. I should have been more supportive.”

  “You don’t need to apologize. Everyone understands, especially yer mamm.” Aunt Miriam walked toward the mudroom off the kitchen. “Seth and I are heading home before the snow gets too deep.” She disappeared for a moment and returned with coats, hats, and her black bonnet. “Merry Christmas, Anne Marie.”

  She hugged her aunt. “Merry Christmas.”

  Thomas left shortly afterward, also not wanting to get stuck in the snow. Her brothers were already upstairs and her mamm had started tidying up the living room. “I’ll get that,” Anne Marie said.

  “You sure?” Although her mother looked happy, she also seemed tired.

  “I’m sure. Get some rest. Gut nacht, Mamm.”

  Moments later Anne Marie put the card game in the drawer of the side table. She cleaned out the popcorn bowl and the corn popper and put them away. Folded the green-and-red quilt Aunt Miriam had given them for Christmas ten years earlier and laid it over the back of the couch. And tried not to cry.

  She looked around the living room. The wedding was planned for two weeks from today, and a couple of days later she would be on her way to Ohio. God, help me. One minute I think I’m okay with moving, and the next I’m not. I think I’m okay with Nathaniel not being in my life, and then I’m not. I can’t get through this without Your help, Lord.

  She blew out the candles in the windows, then walked to Nathaniel’s candle, the flame dancing and illuminating his exquisite carving. Her mother had wanted to light it, still not knowing Anne Marie hadn’t carved it. She watched red wax drip down the side, altering the curves and curlicues, changing it forever. The candle, like her life and her relationship with Nathaniel, would never be the same.

  She leaned over to blow it out when she heard a knock at the back door. Who would be coming over this late and with heavy snow falling? When she answered the door, she froze. “Nathaniel?”

  “I . . .” Snow covered his black hat, the shoulders of his coat. The coat she’d slept with for several nights. She leaned against the door-jamb, weary of being confused, upset, hurt. She was tired of it all.

  “It’s late, Nathaniel. Christmas is over.” She started to close the door when he stopped her.

  “Don’t.” He locked his gaze on hers. “Don’t send me away . . . even though I deserve it.”

  Nathaniel’s knees buckled at the pain in Anne Marie’s eyes. Pain he’d caused. He shouldn’t have stayed away so long. He shouldn’t have waited until now to see her. To let her know how he felt.

  Before she could push him away, he walked inside. He set down the paper bag he was carrying and put his arms around her. He heard her gasp as he pressed her against him, burying his face in her neck.

  Yes, he should have done this a long time ago.

  When she relaxed against him, he closed his eyes. When he heard her sob, he looked at her. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

  She pulled away and wiped the tears from her face. “We need to talk.”

  He nodded as she turned on the gas lamp near the window. He followed her to the couch and sat down. She rubbed her hand over her eyes one more time before looking away.

  He’d practiced the words all the way over here, hurrying his horse through the newly fallen snow that had turned to slush on the roads. But now that he was here, the words wouldn’t come. He couldn’t tell her how he’d spent the past few days in prayer, had talked to his father, and had told Ruth that they were over before they’d even started. He didn’t doubt his decision. But he did doubt his ability to convince Anne Marie.

  “I’m glad you’re here,” she finally said. “I have something to tell you.” She took a deep breath. “Nathaniel, it’s time we both moved on.”

  His breath hitched. “What?”

  “I know we talked about writing letters and visiting, but that won’t last.”

  “Anne Marie—”

  “And I’m glad you and Ruth found each other.” Tears pooled in her eyes again. “You’ll both be very happy together.”

  He couldn’t stand to listen to this anymore.

  “Maybe I can come for the wedd—”

  He took her face in his hands and kissed her.

  Anne Marie couldn’t stop Nathaniel from kissing her, and she didn’t want to. The kiss was sweet and gentle and he parted from her too fast. When he drew away, she fought for words. “What about Ruth?” she asked when she was able to catch her breath.

  He shook his head. “There’s nothing between me and Ruth.” He took her hand.

  Her palm tingled in his. Then she came to her senses. “Wait a minute.” She pulled out of his grasp. “You stood me up on Sunday.”

  He rubbed his right temple. “About that—”

  “And then you’re late tonight.” She crossed her arms over her white apron. “Now you’re kissing me. What’s going on, Nathaniel?”

  “I’m sorry about last Sunday and about being late tonight. But I needed time.”

  “Away from me?”

  He cupped her chin in his hand. “I had to sort things out. Most important, I had to pray about us. I’ve always cared about you, Anne Marie. You’re mei best friend. I didn’t want to do anything to ruin that. But I knew things couldn’t stay the same between us.”

  “Because I’m moving.” She looked away.

  He tilted her face toward him. “Nee. Because I love you.”

  She stilled, letting his words wash over her in a warm wave. “You do?”

  He chuckled and let his hand drop to his side. “That shouldn’t be a surprise. Everyone else has known. Even before I did. And I think from the way you kissed me back, you do too.”

  She couldn’t deny it. “So? We love each other.” It felt strange and right at the same time to say the words out loud. “There’s not much we can do about it now.”

  “We could get married.”

  Her eyes widened. “Are you serious?”

  “Very. I don’t want you to leave. I don’t want to be separated from you. I know I said letters and visits would be enough.” He drew her to him. She laid her cheek against his chest, feeling him rest his chin on top of her head. “But we both know it won’t.”

  He was right. Being in his arms, feeling his heart beating in time with hers . . . how could she be apart from him? “Ya.”

  “Does that mean . . . ?”

  She looked up at him. “It means I’ll marry you.”

  He pulled her to him and held her. A moment later, he sat back. He grinned, his expression holding a mixture of happiness and relief. He stood, went to the door, and picked up the brown paper bag. He opened it and pulled out the antique mantel clock she’d admired in his workshop. “Merry Christmas.”

  She took it from him, touching the polished silver decorations, every trace of tarnish removed. The smooth blue box that encased the simple clock looked fresh, but still showed its age. “It’s beautiful.”

  He sat down next to her. �
��I’m glad you like it.”

  She looked at him. “And all I did was make a plate of your favorite brownies.”

  “Can’t wait to eat them.” He grinned.

  She looked at the clock again. “I can’t believe you’re giving this to me. Doesn’t your daed want to sell it in the shop?”

  “He gave it to me, to give to someone special.” He took the clock from her and turned it around. A small brass plate was attached to the back. She read the engraved words: Out of friendship grew love. Nathaniel and Anne Marie.

  Tears came to her eyes. Goodness, she’d never been this weepy in her life. But they were tears of joy. “You were that sure I would say ya?”

  “I was pretty sure.” He rubbed his thumb over her knuckle. “Okay, I was praying. Really hard.”

  She leaned over and kissed his cheek.

  “It’s about time.”

  Anne Marie pulled away from Nathaniel and found Jonah standing on the steps. “How long have you been there?” she asked, cutting her eyes at him.

  He waved her off and continued down the stairs. “Don’t mind me, I’m just getting a brownie.”

  “Those are Nathaniel’s.”

  “Okay, some pie, then.” He headed toward the kitchen. “So when’s the wedding?” he asked over his shoulder.

  Her mouth dropped open. “How did you know?”

  He gave her a wily grin. “Like I said, it’s about time.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  JANUARY

  “I wish I wasn’t so nervous.”

  Anne Marie smiled at her mother. She straightened the shoulders of Mamm’s wedding dress, the dark-blue fabric complementing her deep brown eyes. “You look schee, Mamm. And happy.”

  “So do you.” She hooked her arm through Anne Marie’s. They turned and looked in the mirror above the dresser. “Are we ready for this?”

  Anne Marie studied the two of them in the mirror. In a few minutes their lives would be altered forever. Several weeks ago she’d fought against change. Wondered about God’s plan. And along the way, fell in love with her best friend. She placed her hand over her mother’s. “Ya. We’re ready.”

  They walked out of Mamm’s bedroom and into the living room. Anne Marie instantly locked eyes with Nathaniel. He grinned, and the butterflies dancing in her stomach calmed. Her mother moved to stand next to Thomas. Anne Marie took her place next to Nathaniel. Between them, the bishop started the double wedding ceremony.

  As he spoke, Anne Marie glanced around a room filled with family and close friends. Her grandparents, her aunt Miriam and uncle Seth, her brothers. Then she saw Nathaniel’s mother wipe a tear. She’d been the most overjoyed of all when she heard the news. Like Jonah, she had simply said, “It’s about time.”

  She glanced at her mother and Thomas. Soon enough she’d have to say good-bye to them and her brothers. While they started a new life in Ohio, she would start her new life as Mrs. Nathaniel Mast. The thought added a touch of bittersweetness to her heart.

  But she didn’t have to think about good-byes right now. Today was her wedding day, and she was rejoicing over the greatest gift she’d ever received—friendship that turned into love.

  READING GROUP GUIDE

  1. Anne Marie knew she shouldn’t have read her mother’s letters. What would you have done in the same situation?

  2. Do you think Nathaniel was fair to Ruth? Why or why not?

  3. Anne Marie questioned God’s plan when she found out she was moving. Have you ever wondered why God has led you down a certain path, especially if it caused disappointment or discomfort? How did you deal with it?

  4. Do you think Anne Marie and Nathaniel would have fallen in love without the threat of her moving away?

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Thank you to my family—my husband James, my children Mathew, Sydney, and Zoie, and my parents Jim and Eleanora Daly. I love you all so much!

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Photo by Sarah Debevec

  Kathleen Fuller is the author of several bestselling novels, including A Man of His Word and Treasuring Emma, as well as a middle-grade Amish series, The Mysteries of Middlefield.

  The Christmas Aprons

  TRICIA GOYER

  Dedicated to my daughter, Leslie Goyer, who sees everyone as a friend and creates community wherever she is!

  GLOSSARY

  aenti: aunt

  boppli: baby

  dat: dad

  danki: thank you

  demut: humility

  Englisch: not Amish

  ja: yes

  kapp: prayer covering

  kinder: children

  maedel: girl

  maude: nanny

  mem: mother

  ne: no

  onkel: uncle

  rumspringa years: running-around years

  vat: what

  vell: well

  CHAPTER ONE

  Esther Glick looked out the ice-frosted window of her cousin’s house, noting the traffic that jammed up the narrow road leading to the West Kootenai Kraft and Grocery. It had been a mild winter until two days ago when the sky dumped fresh snow. Outside, two Amish bachelors rode bicycles over the layer of packed-down snow, their tires occasionally sliding on the icy surface. The bike riders moved with great effort, almost in slow motion, but you couldn’t tell it bothered them by the bright grins on their faces. They were passed by an Englisch boy—no older than ten years old—on a four-wheeler. Two young Amish women, both with red hair neatly tucked under their starched white kapps, also strode by, the frosty air from their breaths leading the way.

  Esther enjoyed watching them. More than once when she’d been outside—bringing in kindling or feeding the horses—she’d seen someone from the Amish community walk by. Each time she considered walking out to the road to greet them, but she always changed her mind. Unlike her twin sister, Violet—who was very outgoing—Esther always held back. She worried about what to say. She worried about taking up too much of someone’s time, and so she usually just waved instead.

  An Amish wagon followed the bicyclists. It was the lumber wagon that she’d seen driving back and forth to Montana Log Works, but today it carried a different type of load. Three more Amish bachelors, and a dog that paced back and forth and barked a friendly greeting to the two young women as they passed.

  “Why, I’ve never seen such commotion for some pies,” Esther mumbled to herself. Inside her cousin’s kitchen, heat radiated from the wood-burning cookstove, and the smell of her own pie cooling caused her stomach to rumble.

  She stepped back from the window, breathing in the sweet aroma of the vanilla crumb pies she’d just baked. It was a pie that her mem was well-known for, and one Esther had never made on her own . . . until now.

  For all her life Mem had closely guarded the secret recipe. It wasn’t written down—just in Mem’s head—and she hadn’t even let her daughters stay in the kitchen as she stirred the ingredients together. Once, Violet had tried to hide and watch, but she got caught. Her punishment? No pie that day. Not even a sliver of a slice. And that’s why the letter Mem sent was such a mystery.

  An envelope had arrived from her mother just yesterday. Inside were two things. First, to her complete surprise, a recipe card with the pie recipe, and second, a quick note written on the back of a faded grocery receipt.

  Good luck with the silent auction. Our prayers are with you. Love, Mem. P.S. Guard this recipe with your life. Don’t tell a soul.

  Esther hadn’t remembered telling Mem about the silent auction. It must have been her cousin Hannah who’d shared the news. Or maybe one of the scribes mentioned it in the Budget. Then again, Mem had other friends in the area too. It always surprised Englishers how ladies from different Amish communities kept tabs on one another. They didn’t need cell phones or computers to share news. Letters and personal visits did a fine job all on their own.

  Esther’s fingers had trembled the first time she held the recipe in her hands. As she read through the ingredients
and directions, she couldn’t believe how simple it was, yet she knew Mem had offered a great sacrifice by offering it up. But why now?

  Esther could hardly sleep last night, and this morning, she’d been up bright and early to get started. Now, two pies sat cooling on the kitchen counter. If she’d only made one, it never would have made it to the auction. Vanilla crumb pie was Hannah’s favorite too.

  As if on cue, footsteps drew near as if wisps of vanilla had lured her cousin in. Esther had swaddled Mark, the newborn baby, and had set him in the kitchen cradle right before putting the pies into the oven. Thankfully, he still slept. She’d come to be Hannah’s maude, caring for the new baby and assisting the new mother. Guilt trailed after her for taking this Saturday off for the fund-raiser.

  Esther swatted a potholder toward her cousin, who walked with hesitant, careful steps. “Hannah, you know you’re not supposed to be on your feet yet.”

  “The boppli is two weeks old, Estie.” Hannah chuckled. “Giving birth didn’t leave me completely helpless. Besides, I had to make sure for myself that you made an extra pie for me . . . My stomach’s been growling the whole time they’ve been in the oven.”

  “Of course. I knew you’d tackle me if I dared to make only one vanilla pie and then leave with it.” Esther stroked her chin. “Yet what I don’t understand is why Mem sent me the recipe—why now? Heaven knows I’ve been begging her for it for years.”

  Hannah’s eyebrows peaked. She quickly looked away but not before Esther noticed the sparkle in her cousin’s gaze.

  “What was that look?” Esther picked up the almost-cooled pie from the counter and placed it in a wicker basket.