A Plain and Sweet Christmas Romance Collection

by Lauralee Bliss

  Mamm gave Mattie a sharp look and headed for the front door.

  “Gut evening, Mervin,” Mamm’s voice sang.

  Mattie fanned herself with one hand while she transferred the mashed potatoes to the table with the other. Mamm should have taken over the supper preparation, and she should have gone to welcome Mervin, but Mamm still schemed how best she could impress her youngest daughter’s suitor. In Mamm’s opinion, a woman busy in the kitchen ought to warm any man’s heart, and to Mamm’s credit her techniques had worked well for eight daughters—and the ninth one would have been married last wedding season if things had gone as planned.

  Mattie had things under control, ever since she had noticed the handsome young Mervin Yoder many years ago. At first Mervin had ignored her and pretended he didn’t have similar feelings. But eventually, Mervin had taken her home from the Sunday evening hymn singing and asked her, out of all the girls in Lancaster County, if she would be his future frau. So why shouldn’t things work out?

  Mattie pasted on her brightest smile as Mamm appeared in the kitchen doorway with Mervin in tow.

  He held his hat in his hand and smiled at Mattie. “I didn’t see your daed in the barn,” he said, “so I came on in.”

  “That’s perfectly all right,” Mamm gushed. “Lamar is still in the back fields with the team. I’ll ring the supper bell, and he’ll be up in a jiffy.” Mamm hurried toward the washroom door and cast a quick glance over her shoulder at Mattie. At least Mamm approved of her love—delayed love, jah, but still love.

  Mattie gave Mervin another smile. “Sit yourself. I almost have things ready.”

  “At the table?” Mervin’s hat went around in circles in his hand.

  “I’m sorry. I’m not minding my manners.” Mattie made a wry face. “I’m almost done with the food. Throw your hat behind the stove and you can wash up out there.” She motioned with her chin toward the washroom door, where the loud clanging of the bell sounded.

  Mervin gave his hat a whirl, and it landed perfectly in the corner of the wall away from the worst heat of the stove. Mattie gave him an appreciative look, and Mervin winked.

  “You don’t have to impress me,” she told him. “You already have that deal sealed.”

  Mervin came close enough to lay his hand on her arm.

  “Not now,” Mattie whispered. “I’m busy, and Mamm might come back in.”

  “The bell’s still clanging.” Mervin stated the obvious.

  “Okay, a quick kiss, then.” Mattie set the hot bowl of corn back on the stove.

  The heat flamed into her face as she grabbed his shoulders and pulled him close.

  “I thought you said…” Mervin drew back a few inches.

  “Forget that.” She lifted her face to his again.

  Mervin gently broke away and whispered, “The bell has stopped.”

  Mattie grabbed the handle of the bowl even as the washroom doorknob rattled. Mamm glanced at both of them when she entered but said nothing. Mamm had to notice Mervin’s triumphant look.

  “Got to go wash up,” Mervin said and disappeared.

  “Were you…” Mamm studied Mattie’s face. “Right here in the kitchen. Well, I guess you claim you are getting married this wedding season.”

  “Thank you.” Mattie said and transferred the bowl of corn. “That’s much better.”

  Mamm muttered something that Mattie couldn’t hear and seated herself at the table to wait for Daed’s arrival. The water splashed in the washroom bowl on the other side of the wall. Mamm smiled up at Mervin when he reappeared, his face red from his scrubbing.

  “You can sit,” Mattie told him again.

  He complied with a chuckle. “I guess I’m clean enough now.”

  “You’re perfect,” Mattie told him, and Mervin glowed.

  “Ahem!” Mamm cleared her throat. “How’s the farm work going, Mervin?”

  Mervin turned reluctantly in Mamm’s direction. “I got most of the fall plowing done this week and bought another Belgian at the auction that looks…”

  Their voices drifted into Mattie’s subconscious, while Mervin’s face lingered in front of her. He hadn’t shaved this week yet. Most of their kisses were shared on Sunday evenings when Mervin had cleaned up the day before. The bristles had added to his manliness tonight. There was no question about that. Once Mervin said the wedding vows with her, he’d begin to grow his beard, which would be even—

  Mattie focused and gave Mamm and Mervin a quick glance. Mervin was busy answering another of Mamm’s questions about his farm. She hadn’t heard the question, but she didn’t need to. The point was that Mervin had completed the purchase of the farm and should have no further excuses not to marry her this fall. There was the English war, of course, but that was so uncertain. She had lived in the land of questions long enough. What she wanted was a husband of her own, in her own house, all week, all day, and all the time—a man who lived with her, who saw her in everyday dresses, and who loved her with all of his heart. Dating Mervin on the weekends was wunderbaar, but she was ready to enjoy life with Mervin as his frau.

  The outside washroom door rattled, and the water splashed again. Daed appeared with water droplets on his beard and a big grin on his face. “Well, if it isn’t Mervin himself come for supper. I guess we’ll get something to eat tonight.”

  They all laughed as Daed seated himself. Mattie took the chair beside Mervin.

  “Let us pray and give thanks,” Daed said, and they bowed their heads.

  Mattie stole a look at Mervin’s face while Daed led out in prayer. He noticed and smiled at her. They were awful, Mattie told herself. They shouldn’t sneak glances at each other through prayer time as if they were teenagers, but they couldn’t help themselves. If the Lord didn’t allow her to marry Mervin this wedding season, she was going to explode. Her heart would break. There was no question about that.

  But Mervin was here tonight, and there was food on the table, which was more than some people in the country could say. Maybe if she gave thanks more often for what she did have, the Lord would give her what she didn’t have.

  “Amen.” Daed finished the prayer, and Mamm hurried to pass the first bowl of food.

  “Corn and beans and potatoes and gravy,” Mervin intoned. “This is a feast.”

  “Like I said.” Daed grinned. “When you come, we finally get to eat.”

  “Mattie made all of this herself,” Mamm added, as if that needed to be said. Mervin knew that she could cook.

  Mervin grinned. “I’ll be getting a gut frau, a really gut one. I know that.”

  “Oh, that’s sweet.” Mattie cooed. She could have kissed him again, right at the kitchen table, but that would not have been decent.

  “This is gut food,” Daed said, and the moment passed. “We can be very thankful.”

  “Jah, I know,” Mattie agreed. “I have so much I can be thankful for.”

  The light conversation continued until supper was completed and another prayer of thanks offered.

  “You want to help with the dishes?” Mattie teased.

  Mervin shook his head. “I think I’d best be going. But thanks so much for the supper. I still have some chores at home that must be done tonight.”

  “Oh.” She let her face fall and followed him to the front door. “I wanted to speak with you about—”

  He touched her cheek with his hand and smiled. “I love you, dear. We can talk some other time. Don’t you think?”

  “Can we—”

  Mervin gave her a gentle smile before she got any further. “Maybe later, Mattie. I need to get back home. I do have chores to finish, and I have a full day’s work in the fields tomorrow. But thanks again for supper.” Then he was gone.

  “Don’t fall too deep in the dumps,” Mamm warned when Mattie came back to the kitchen. “Mervin knows what he’s doing.”

  Mattie pressed her lips together and said nothing. Mervin knew how to get out of conversations about their wedding plans. That much was clear.r />
  Chapter 2

  On Saturday morning, almost three weeks later, Mattie drove Bell, the Beilers’ driving horse, east toward Mervin’s small farm a mile outside of Whitehorse. Tucked under the buggy seat was the latest copy of the English newspaper that Daed had brought home last night. Daed had hidden the paper under his bed, as usual, but she had found it this morning. She had scanned the pages in the bedroom, but she would read the words further in a moment.

  “The war is close,” Mervin had claimed on Sunday evening when she tried to bring their wedding plans up again.

  Mervin had clamped his mouth shut and refused to give her details. He had kept her occupied with light chatter and sweet smiles for the rest of the evening. There was, jah, a kiss at their parting, but what gut were kisses without a wedding in their future? All she had managed to accomplish was to secure plans for a visit to his farm today. That Mervin hadn’t objected to.

  Well, she would read for herself and talk to Mervin afterward. He couldn’t ignore her if she had firsthand information from the English newspaper. Perhaps even the news that things were not as bad as everyone thought. She could intelligently converse with him if she had facts in hand. Mervin had his doubts, but there were bigger reasons that canceled those.

  Wasn’t love worth sacrifices, even a thousand sacrifices? Certainly love was greater than fear and the decision to marry shouldn’t be based on what the English world did. She could tell Mervin those reasons before she read the newspaper, and had tried to, but he wouldn’t listen. Facts were better. A man thought differently from a woman. If only she could show him that all of this was likely the English hyping the news of the war.

  “Whoa,” Mattie called out to Bell. She pulled into a small roadside stand and parked at the far end. No one would disturb her here with the constant traffic in and out. She could read in peace.

  Mattie pulled the newspaper out from under the buggy seat and unfolded the pages. The front page headline caught her attention: HITLER CONSOLIDATES HIS HOLD ON EUROPE.

  Mattie read on:

  Resistance has faded in the occupied countries held under Germany’s boot. Paris is silent this fall, spared from destruction. Its usual exuberant spirit in the face of the approaching winter is not on display. When snowfalls on the Eiffel Tower, marching beneath will be the boot prints of Hitler’s storm troopers. Southern France has been declared a free zone. Little, though, is free in Hitler’s world. He is a barbarian, a man whose word cannot be trusted. The whole world knows this well by now. Hitler knows one language, that of brute strength. England is still under siege and barely survives after Hitler’s brutal bombing campaign last year. Few dare hope they will ever find the strength to crush this tyrant. The new year will bring worse, many fear, as the armies settle in for winter. President Roosevelt speaks of peace and not of war. He is caught between a populace that hates the thought of another European entanglement and the American spirit that has no sympathy for dictators and thugs installed at the head of political parties.

  Mattie’s gaze moved on, and the pages rustled. This was not helpful. Another article caught her attention: “What Would Peace Look Like?” She read quickly:

  It is the business of any editorial page to have an opinion. With this in mind, we have searched our hearts on the subject of peace in Europe. What would peace look like? Can subjection to a foreign power be considered peace? Can Europe make peace with Hitler and, God forbid, his eventual replacement years from now? Do we as Americans have a right to spell out this peace? Can we deny Europe their choice if they desire to live with the present status quo? Either way, it seems to us that answer will fall to America.

  If we do nothing, Europe will not have the strength to throw off the German yoke. To think that England can achieve such power in this generation is a fantasy, and France will not even try. Remember that the Great War was not won with British and French troops. It took America’s might. Of course, Russia is the wild card in this equation, brought into play with Hitler’s ill-conceived invasion of that country. At present, President Roosevelt seems to think the answer lies in that direction.

  We do not know if the president is right or not, and no one may know, but the president believes in the cause sufficiently to commit the materials of war. Many are asking the question: Is the evidential, and distant, and perhaps impossible victory over Germany worth the long, drawn-out struggle? If failure remains a real possibility, would not the best choice be an allocation of what is now expended in war on efforts toward peace?

  Would the world not be better served with peace than war? The question turns to America for an answer. Are we up to the task? Many, including this editorial board, wonder whether we are. But the answer doesn’t matter if destiny has placed the task in our hands. We pray that God would give us the wisdom to know what is right and the strength to execute the choice we make. Neither will be easy. The cost of peace is high, whether we fight or seek to live with a German-occupied Europe.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  Mattie sighed and stuffed the newspaper back under the buggy seat. There were no answers here, only more questions. She had best not show any of this to Mervin.

  “Get up,” Mattie called to Bell, and the buggy moved onto Route 340 again.

  Mattie jiggled the reins and Bell increased her speed. She had found no answers in the newspaper, but her desire to see Mervin on his farm was still there. She would have to resort to the answers she already knew. Wasn’t love its own answer? She would try to persuade Mervin. He would have to listen to her. She would make him listen.

  Mattie pulled back on the reins when Mervin’s farm came into view. The small white house was set back off the road a few hundred feet, with an equally small barn farther back. The sixty or so acres didn’t constitute a large farm, but it was enough to begin farming and enough to need a frau to tend the house. That was another argument she could use. Surely Mervin didn’t want to live here alone for another year.

  But she could hear Mervin say it now, “If the English war brings about America’s involvement, I won’t be here next year.”

  A pang ran through Mattie as she brought Bell to a stop by the hitching rail. If war came, Mervin would have to respond to the government’s call and serve somewhere. He wouldn’t fight, but he would have to put in his time. There was no choice in that matter.

  She pasted on a smile when Mervin appeared in the barn door.

  “Gut morning,” she called to him.

  “Gut morning,” he responded. “So you did come?”

  “Of course,” Mattie scolded. “I had to see you, and—”

  Mervin wrapped Mattie in his arms for a quick hug then held her at arm’s length. “How gut to see your face, dear.” He gave Mattie a quick peck on the cheek.

  She wanted more, but now was not the time.

  “You keep everything so clean around the place,” she told him.

  Mervin chuckled. “What did you expect? A trashy bachelor? You know that means a trashy husband.”

  “You’d never be trashy,” she told him. “You’re too sweet for that.”

  Mervin laughed. “I see I’ve pulled the wool over your eyes quite easily.”

  Mattie faked a glare. “Tie up Bell, and I’m going to check the house. That will tell me the truth.”

  Mervin continued his chuckling while he tied Bell to the hitching rail. “Come,” he said. He took Mattie’s hand and led the way toward the house. He opened the front door and waved his hand inward. “Welcome to my bachelor quarters, and see for yourself.”

  She peered inside. “This looks gut, but the bachelor bit isn’t my fault, you know. I would have—”

  Mervin silenced her with a touch on her lips. “Come. Shall we sit on the front porch, or do you want to see the kitchen yet?”

  She tilted her head and smiled up at him. “I know you’re a gut housekeeper, but let’s be serious, Mervin. You’ve been avoiding the subject, and we have to discuss our wedding plans. November is coming quickly, and Mamm and I…”r />
  He sighed. “Let’s sit, then. I don’t have a swing yet, but I have chairs in the basement. Wait here and I’ll get some.”

  Mattie nodded, and Mervin hurried down the porch steps and over to the outside basement entrance. He came back quickly with a wooden chair in each arm. They didn’t look too comfortable, but she didn’t need comfort at the moment. A fixed wedding date would be comfort enough.

  “There,” he said and helped her sit. “Comfortable as can be!”

  She met his gaze and pled, “We can’t go on like this, Mervin. We must be wed this fall. We—”

  “Jah,” he interrupted. “I feel the same way. You should have been my frau for almost a year now, but the Lord willed it otherwise. All the advice we got back then pointed—”

  Mattie stopped him. “I know the advice. But surely you’re not having doubts again. It’s almost the first week in October, and we don’t have much time.”

  His smile was thin. “I would want nothing more than to have you as my frau this wedding season, Mattie. You don’t know how I long for that hour. The house is empty here all by myself.” Mervin glanced over his shoulder at the living room window. “Your presence in our home would be heaven on earth. Maybe that’s why the Lord keeps putting things in our path.”

  “But we love each other!” she scolded. “You know that, Mervin. How could marriage be wrong? It’s time…” Mattie looked away. “Marry me this fall, Mervin. I don’t know if my heart can go on living if I have to wait another year.”

  His gaze was fixed on the horizon.

  “Mervin,” she finally said.

  His face was grim. “Surely you know what the problem is, Mattie. We are not talking about waiting another year. If America becomes involved in this war, the struggle will be long and difficult. I will be drafted and will have to serve somewhere as a conscientious objector. None of us will be home until peace returns. Not those who fight. Not those who work for peace. Everyone will have to stay at their posts until the war ends. I’m not complaining, Mattie. I’m speaking the truth. We should be willing to sacrifice for our faith. Our witness for the Lord should cost us what is precious. Many of our English neighbors will give their lives for what they believe. They—”