by Beth Wiseman
“Warm yourself by the fire before we head out.”
He nodded once. “Thank you, I will.”
Ammon’s cheeks and nose were bright red from the cold, but it made him even more rugged looking. He was tall, with light hair and blue eyes. He was handsome . . . so much so that her breath caught in her throat and her hands grew clammier.
Esther reached for her coat and then saw she was still wearing her dirty kitchen apron . . . some impression she was making.
She untied the back and then pulled it over her head. “I’m so used to wearing this old thing, I forget to take it off.”
“I like the look of an apron. You should have left it on.”
Ammon watched her every move as she dumped the apron into the small wicker basket by the back door where she’d tossed the dirty kitchen towels earlier.
“That’s kind of you to say.” Esther smoothed her blouse and cape and then reached for her thick wool coat. “But my mother would scold me for certain if she knew that’s how I’d met you at the door. I’m thankful that Matthew and Hannah are at his parents’ house today so word won’t get back.”
“I’m not just saying that—I mean it.” Ammon stepped forward and took the coat from her hands, holding it up so that she could slide her arms into it. She buttoned up, put on her gloves, and then turned to him.
“My favorite people spent most of their days in their kitchen aprons: my grandmother, my aentis and mem . . .” His voice hiccuped as he said that. “An apron is a sign of serving others. It’s a symbol of feeding the hungry. Even Jesus tied an apron around His waist and lowered Himself as He cared for His disciples, kneeling before them to wash their feet.”
Esther couldn’t help but be puzzled by this man. He looked similar to so many other Amish bachelors, but there was a tenderness to his words that surprised her. Without another word Ammon opened the front door and led her out.
“Have you ever been on a sleigh ride before?” He took her hand and helped her up into the sleigh.
“No, I can’t say that I have. I’m sure that it’s common around here, but not where I’m from—Sugarcreek.”
“Sugarcreek.” His lips pursed. “That’s a nice area. Nice farms there.”
“Ja. We lived in town, but every time we’d head into the country for church or a sewing frolic, I’d look at the farms and try to pick which one I’d want to live on someday.”
He climbed in beside her and took up the reins. “It sounds like you have a great imagination.”
“It’s silly, I know.” She waved a gloved hand in the air.
“It’s not silly. It’s a gut dream, Esther. In fact . . .”
The rumble of a large diesel pickup truck interrupted his words. It made its way down the driveway and parked beside the house. A short, older woman hopped down from the driver’s side and Esther recognized Millie from the store.
“Esther, Ammon, I’m sorry to interrupt your day out, but I see that Jenny’s idea for the fund-raiser is reaping many rewards!” Laughter spilled out with her words. “But that’s not what I’ve come to talk about.” Millie jingled her keys in her hands. “I’m supposed to bring a pie to our prayer group’s Christmas gathering, and I’m the worst baker ever. I was wondering, Esther, if you’d be willing to bake a few pies for me? I didn’t get a taste of that vanilla crumb pie, but I heard it was amazing.”
Esther looked to Ammon, who was nodding vigorously, and then back to Millie.
“I’d be happy to pay you,” Millie chirped.
“Oh, I don’t need any money,” Esther rushed to say. “All my needs are provided for with my work as a maude, and I really do enjoy baking.”
“Well, dear, I can’t have you do it for free. What if you donated the money to the volunteer fire department? I’m sure they won’t mind.”
Esther clasped her gloved hands together. “Oh yes, that’s a wonderful idea!” Esther nearly bounced in the buggy seat. “I’ll have to ask Hannah if I can use her kitchen, but I’m sure she won’t mind.”
“Oh, that’s another thing.” Millie pointed her finger into the air. “I asked Annie if you could bake them over at the Kraft and Grocery. It would be easier for you, I’m sure, and she didn’t mind at all.”
Esther chuckled, and foggy breath escaped. “That’s kind of you, Millie, but I don’t think I need to borrow the large kitchen of the Kraft and Grocery for a few pies.”
A sheepish look crossed Millie’s face, and she shuffled from side to side, leaving boot prints in the snow. “Yes, well, maybe I should have mentioned that first. When I was at the store, talking to Annie, she said that she’d like a few pies, too, for Christmas.”
“Ja, I’m sure that will be fine.”
“But then, well, a few customers overheard us. Word had already gotten around about your baking. So others asked if you’d be interested in baking Christmas pies for them as well.”
“Others?” Esther’s eyebrows shot up, and she no longer felt cold. Instead, heat radiated through her. “How many others are we talking about, Millie?”
Millie reached her hand into her parka and pulled out a slip of paper, handing it up to Esther in the sleigh. Esther unfolded it. Her eyes widened as she saw that there were no fewer than twenty names on the list.
Laughter spurted from Ammon’s lips. She gave him a quick elbow to the ribs, which only made him laugh again.
“All of these folks want a pie for Christmas?” Esther didn’t know whether to be happy or horrified.
Millie rubbed her chin and paused, as if afraid to say the next words. “Actually . . .” She drew her words out. “Actually, some of them want two.”
The horses pranced, getting impatient, and Esther’s stomach sank as she tried to consider how many pies she’d need to make each day to reach her goal by Christmas. She couldn’t start until a few days before then. She needed to make sure they were fresh for Christmas Day.
“Well, I’m not sure—” That was a lot of work, and she still had to help with Mark. He was a gut boppli, but it wouldn’t be fair to Hannah. Unless . . . unless she was able to bake during his morning nap.
“Millie, just how much money would that bring in for the fire department?” Ammon’s words interrupted her thoughts.
Millie stepped closer, as if pleased that he seemed to be on her side. “Well, it’s just some quick calculations in my head, but after the cost of supplies, I suppose it would be enough to buy a dozen of those fire emergency blankets they’ve been looking at.”
Neither spoke, waiting for Esther’s response.
Laughter slipped from Esther’s lips, knowing that she’d been cornered, but feeling happy about the prospect of her donation. “Ja, well, how can I say no?”
For the first time in her life she felt like she didn’t have to hide. She wasn’t comparing herself with her sister, and she’d carried on a conversation with two new friends without worrying about what to say next. And more than that, they trusted her with their Christmas desserts, and that thought settled happily in her soul.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The horses danced over the snow as they pulled the sleigh along, and the swish of their tails lulled her. Esther tried to concentrate on the sounds of the runners sliding and the crunch—almost a squeak—of the horses’ hooves on the snow, which sparkled like glitter, but her mind was buzzing with thoughts about the pies she’d just agreed to bake. And also buzzing with thoughts of Ammon, who sat nestled beside her.
As Millie had driven off, Ammon had taken a thick fleece blanket and laid it over both of their legs, tucking it in. The heat radiating from his legs warmed hers, and as a cold wind blew, she resisted the urge to snuggle closer.
With Ammon by her side, the world seemed different than it had just days ago. It seemed warmer, more inviting. A strong sense of community lightened her heart. She felt as if she belonged and had value. Maybe Esther would have realized sooner that she had value if she hadn’t spent so much time comparing herself to Violet. She could talk without having
to be chatty. She could make a few good friends without having to be a friend to everyone in the community.
Her mother said that in time, Violet’s looks would fade, while Esther’s skills in the kitchen would never stop being appreciated. But maybe the greatest asset either of them had was just being a friend.
“I remember when we first moved to Montana,” Ammon said. “I was certain I’d never seen a bigger sky. Nor a darker one at night. The stars look brighter here, don’t you think? Like sparkling pins on a pincushion made of black velvet.”
“Ja.” Esther tilted her head up, but that single act caused one tear to slip from the corner of her eye. The tears came as she considered how much of her life she’d spent hiding. And also because she knew that it wouldn’t be easy to change overnight. She quickly wiped her cheeks, but not before Ammon noticed.
“Esther, is anything wrong?”
“Not really—” Her words caught in her throat like a giant snowball, and she attempted to swallow them down. “I just worry that I’m not going to be able to fill all the orders, and I’ll let so many people down . . . especially on Christmas.”
“If you need any help, let me know. I’m not much of a baker, but I can carry bags of flour and such. And I could sit in the kitchen and chat with you as your pies baked.”
She looked at him. “You-you’d do that?”
“Of course I would. I’d love to . . .” Ammon cleared his throat. “I’d like to get to know you better.”
She let those worlds filter down on her soul like fresh-falling snow. Ammon laughed. “And I could hope that one of those pies wouldn’t set right or the crust would get too brown, and then I’d have to help destroy the evidence—one bite at a time.”
She pretended to laugh along, but again, worry filled her mind.
“Yes, well, I’m sure you’d like more pie. You sort of gave all yours away.” Esther blew out a breath and then told herself to smile. “To be truthful, I don’t remember much of that day either. I was so flustered. I’m not sure how I didn’t get the message, but when I showed up, I had no idea that a date was included in the bidding.” Then she glanced up at him. “I’m just so thankful that it was you.” His eyes fixed on hers for a moment, and she looked away, feigning anger. “I’m still a little mad at Jenny over that one.”
A soft laugh slipped from Ammon’s lips. “Leave it to Jenny to come up with that. Ever since she returned to West Kootenai, she’s taken it upon herself to play matchmaker, or that’s what others around the area have told me. I suppose with seeing all the Amish bachelors and all the single Amish young women, she can’t help herself.”
“It seems strange, though, that an Englisch woman would be so concerned about Amish romance.” An ache grew in the pit of Esther’s stomach, and she remembered how things had been back home. There was a greater distance between the Englisch and the Amish. Or at least that’s what she’d observed.
“From what I’ve gathered, there’s nothing typical in West Kootenai. Jenny worked at the Kraft and Grocery for a few years, and she became friends with many of the Amish cooks and bakers. She was gone for a year or so—taking care of her mom, who was ill. But I hear that her mom’s doing better so Jenny came back.”
“That’s gut about her mem,” Esther said, unsure why Ammon knew so much about the Englisch baker. To her, all this matchmaking just seemed as if the woman was putting her nose where it didn’t belong.
“Of course, I think it has more to do with a longing than just being nosy,” Ammon commented, as if reading Esther’s thoughts. “Jenny’s a single mom. Since she’s not finding love, maybe she’s content in helping others find it.” He cleared his throat, and he looked over at Esther. The word “love” hung in the air between them.
The horses plodded along and they chatted about their families back home and Christmas traditions. Ammon seemed to take an especially long route, and it took over an hour to get back to Matthew and Hannah’s place. By the time Esther climbed down from the sleigh, her cheeks and nose were practically numb.
“Esther, before you go, I have a question for you.”
“Ja, okay.” She blew warm breath into her cupped, gloved hands.
“First of all, do you have to work tonight?”
“Work, as in caring for baby Mark?” Esther shook her head. “No, my cousin’s family will be gone all day and evening.”
“Oh, good. In that case, I was wondering if you’d join me for a family dinner at my sister’s place. My nieces and nephews happened to overhear my plans for today and they insisted on meeting you.”
“Really?” Esther placed a hand over her heart. “I’m honored. That sounds like fun.”
“Well, just so you know, they are very active . . . and there’s a lot of them. If you get overwhelmed, I’ll whisk you away.”
Esther nodded, but she loved children. They were easy to talk to.
“Good. I’ll return the sleigh and be back in an hour or so. It’s just a short walk to my sister’s house.”
Esther placed her hand on the doorknob and turned, but then she remembered something. “And your mother? Will I get to meet her too?”
Ammon stopped in his tracks. He turned slowly and lifted his gaze to meet hers. “Excuse me?”
“Well, I thought I’d heard someone say that you came here with your mother. They thought she was still in town. Can I meet her?”
The color drained from Ammon’s face, and a boulder settled in the pit of Esther’s gut. She didn’t know what she’d said wrong. Ammon’s face was as white as the snowy ground beneath his feet. Her heartbeat quickened.
“I-I’m not sure. Perhaps. Let me talk to my sister about it, and we’ll see what we can do.” With that, Ammon turned and strode to the sleigh.
Esther walked into the house, quickly shutting the door behind her, hoping she hadn’t messed up her words too badly. She didn’t understand why he had even asked her to go on a ride with him. She surely didn’t know why he’d invited her to meet his family. Those were all signs that he thought fondly of her. Signs of commitment. And if that was the case, then why was he so clearly hiding something from her?
Oh Lord, what is happening between Ammon and me? Please help me understand. Help me to know what to do, what to say.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Ammon led Esther down the snowy street to his sister’s house. He glanced down at her gloved hand. Would it be too bold to reach out and take it? He hadn’t meant to have feelings for her. He hadn’t even known whose pie it was when he placed that bid, but he knew that God knew. Was it possible that God had brought them together?
Ammon had spent much of the night trying to figure out what drew him to Esther, and he decided it was her demut. Humility was given a high value among the Amish, but sometimes it was just a show. Esther, on the other hand, seemed truly surprised when someone acknowledged or appreciated her. She seemed tonguetied and unsure of what to say.
He was still trying to decide whether or not to hold her hand when Esther’s feet went out from under her on an especially icy spot. Ammon reached out and grabbed her, holding her up by her shoulders.
“Whoa!” She reached out and clung to his arms, pausing to regain her footing. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome—it is slippery out here. You can hold on to my arm if you’d like.”
She stepped closer and tucked her arm under his, holding tight. “Ja, danki. I appreciate that.” The night was still and the snow glowed in the fading moonlight. Yet, as they neared the home, they heard voices . . . of children.
He paused at the door and glanced over at Esther. Both surprise and humor shone in her eyes at the commotion. “Are you ready for this?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be!”
He opened the door and stepped in. Within seconds, a passel of children gathered around them. Ammon was surprised that the younger children hardly paid any attention to Esther. Instead, they grabbed his arm and dragged him to their mem’s rocking chair that was set in front of the fire
.
“Tell us a story! Tell us a story!” they called out.
A woman hurried from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. “I’m sorry that they didn’t even say hello.” She nodded to Esther. “I’m Polly.” She swooped her hand in an arch. “Welcome to our home and our chaotic life.”
Esther laughed. “Your children are beautiful . . . and . . .” She tried to find the right word as she watched Ammon sit and a half dozen children clamor for space on his lap.
“And active, I know.” Polly blew out a heavy breath and then tucked her hair up in her kapp. She motioned to the kitchen and Esther followed. Polly moved to a large pot of stew that was simmering on the stove and stirred it.
“Do you want a big family someday, Esther?” She placed the spoon on a spoon rest and turned.
Esther pulled back slightly at the direct question. How serious did Polly think her relationship with Ammon was?
“Ja, of course. I love children. I’ve been a maude for many years. I love caring for bopplis and . . .” Esther didn’t know what else to say. Why did she suddenly feel as if she were being interviewed?
The serious expression on Polly’s face softened. “Yes, me too.” She approached and leaned against the counter. “What Amish mother doesn’t want a big family? But it’s different—harder—than I ever expected. My children are active. They take after their father, I think. Matthew loves to hike and swim. He loves playing baseball in the summer with the young bachelors, and I’m afraid that most of my children have inherited that energy.”
Polly moved to the wooden cutting board. She removed a red-and-white-checkered dishcloth from the top of a freshly baked loaf of bread and began to slice it.
“They are active.” Esther chuckled as she watched two of the children give up on their uncle and begin to chase each other around the living room.
“I’ve never been able to keep them quiet or still in church. Well, not as quiet and still as they should be. They get bored. They squirm around. Sometimes they talk.” Polly shook her head, and then she broke off a small piece of bread and put it into her mouth. “I’ve heard the other moms talk . . .”
