A Plain and Sweet Christmas Romance Collection

by Lauralee Bliss

  Mattie joined him, and when they finished, she scrubbed away with the wet cloth.

  “Let me have that one,” Mervin ordered. “You can get another one.”

  Mattie handed over the washcloth. She got up and returned to the kitchen for another rag. When she came back, Mervin gave her a smile from the floor.

  “I feel awful.” Mattie groaned. “What a mess, and you’re so nice about it.”

  Mervin smiled and scrubbed away. “There’s nothing to worry about if we get this clean.”

  Mattie went on her knees to join him, and they worked silently until Mervin declared, “There! No smell tomorrow, I think.”

  “Maybe I should pour soap directly on the floor,” Mattie suggested.

  “Maybe,” Mervin allowed.

  Mattie hurried back to the kitchen and grabbed the soap bottle. She returned and placed droplets all over the affected area. Mervin scrubbed again, and she joined him.

  “Satisfied?” Mervin finally asked.

  “I guess so.” Mattie got slowly to her feet. Her face was flushed, and the time was late. Why did nothing ever work out the way she had planned? Did the Lord wish to take her wedding away from her again? The evening so far had shed little light on the future.

  Mervin pushed the slop bucket out of the way and flopped down on the couch. “So when should we have this wedding, dear.”

  Mattie joined him before she answered. “Before Christmas. That’s all I know. Unless you object?” She peered up at his face.

  “I’m trying to trust the Lord,” Mervin muttered. “But Willis and Mary did set such a gut example.”

  “And there’s another wedding this week.” Mattie told him. “In fact, two of them in our district. We can’t be doing the wrong thing.”

  Mervin smiled. “Then when is our date? Sometime before Christmas, you say. What about the second Thursday in December?”

  Mattie took a long breath. Did she dare? She should at least try. “Maybe the first Thursday in December, right after Thanksgiving?”

  Mervin looked down at her with tenderness written on his face. “You’ll need all the time you can get to prepare, Mattie. The second Thursday in December is soon enough for our wedding.”

  “Okay.” Mattie gave in. This was already more than she had once hoped for. “Just think,” she whispered. “I’ll be your frau before too long.”

  Mervin cleared his throat. “Don’t we have other plans to make?”

  “That was the big one,” she said, and begged, “Can I please? Just one kiss? I have waited a long time for this moment.”

  Mervin nodded, and Mattie grasped his shoulders with both hands and pulled him close. She reached upward to where the bristles on his chin began and higher. He was as sweet as he always had been, strong and gentle, a well that filled her heart with great joy.

  “Satisfied?” Mervin held her at arm’s length.

  Another one, she almost said but let her eyes speak. He lowered his head and held her close for a long time. She eased her lips away from his and rested her cheek against his.

  Mervin stroked Mattie’s hair away from her face. “The plans,” he whispered. “We have to make plans.”

  “Jah,” Mattie murmured into his chest. All she wanted right now was to hold Mervin tight and never let go. But of course, that couldn’t be. She sat upright and focused. “We’ll need table waiters of course. Maybe a dozen.”

  Mervin laughed. “A big wedding, then.”

  “Of course!” Mattie declared. “I’ve waited long enough for this.”

  “We should have a small one,” he said. “We are both older.”

  Which isn’t my fault. The retort died in Mattie’s throat. She moved closer to lean against his shoulder. “Whatever you want is fine with me.” She gazed up at his face. “That you’re marrying me is all I need on my wedding day. Oh, this is so wunderbaar, Mervin. I can’t say how much I love you. This is so right, and the Lord must be pleased. Did He not give us plenty of direction at Willis and Mary’s wedding?”

  “Jah, it appears so.” A cloud passed over Mervin’s face. “But there will always be trouble, Mattie, and this war is still a possibility. Are you sure you want to run the risk?”

  “We’re not talking about that tonight,” she told him.

  He stroked her face, his calluses tender on her skin, his dark thoughts apparently forgotten.

  “Just think,” she told him. “I’ll be your frau regardless of whether we have a big wedding or a small one.”

  He nodded. “I love you, Mattie, and the Lord does seem to have given direction, so that’s gut enough for me. The second Thursday in December it will be.”

  “The second Thursday,” she echoed.

  “And a small wedding,” he added.

  “Only a few guests,” she agreed. “Our immediate family and a few others.”

  His chuckle filled the living room. “You know that’s not a small wedding. The cousins will all want to come.”

  Mattie hid her smile. “That sounds small to me.”

  Mervin shook with laugher. “You are a wise one, you know.”

  “Is that why you love me?”

  “Among other things,” he said. “But never mind. We still haven’t picked out the table waiters.”

  “Let’s see,” Mattie mused. “There are your two brothers, Emery and John, from your side of the family, unless you want one of them for a witness?”

  “I think we should go with gut friends for that role,” he said. “Especially since all your siblings are married.”

  “You don’t have to exclude your brothers because of me,” Mattie protested.

  “Emery, then,” he said with a smile. “I like that.”

  “I’ll think about who I want later,” she told him. “Right now I just want to enjoy this moment.”

  “I thought you wanted to plan things?”

  “We have planned things,” she said. “We’re getting married.”

  He wrapped his arm around her shoulder for a quick squeeze. “That we are, and I’m going home. It’s getting late.”

  Mattie followed him to the door and stepped out onto the porch to watch his buggy lights leave. She could have used one more kiss, but she could also wait. She had her wedding date. Was that not gut enough?

  “Thank You, dear Lord,” she whispered up into the heavens. The stars twinkled back as if they had joined her dance of joy.

  Chapter 6

  On the Monday before Thanksgiving, Mervin whistled a merry tune as he hitched his team of Belgians to the wagon. Overhead a few stars still twinkled with the sunrise on the eastern horizon. This was an early start of the day, but they needed an early one if Willis planned to complete the job of filling his daed’s smaller silo. Herman helped the young couple gain a financial start with a portion of the farm’s production while the two lived at Mary’s former home. The last of Willis’s share of corn was out of the fields, and the stalks would be put up today as feed for the cattle. Last year this time, most of Lancaster’s corn had been destroyed by the mid-October snowstorm, and all hope of a decent crop was lost. Mervin’s tune faltered at the dark memory. He straightened his back and stood upright. He would not think of troubled times today. His time spent with Mattie yesterday had been too wunderbaar. Their wedding plans continued, and he would not change his mind.

  His whistle began again. Mattie was right about the wedding, and he had been wrong. Willis and Mary’s happy married life showed that plainly enough. Willis’s face shone with love for Mary every time Mervin saw them together. Clearly, the two were filled with happiness, even while they lived in her parents’ upstairs bedroom.

  Mervin fastened the last trace and hopped on the wagon. His whistle stopped again. If Willis and Mary were happy, that must mean he had wasted the last year of his life while he could have lived with Mattie in marital bliss.

  “That’s a bummer,” Mervin muttered into the morning air. Why had he let his fears get the best of him? Mervin jiggled the reins, and the Belgi
ans dashed out of the lane at a brisk trot and down Route 340, away from the town of Whitehorse. Several other wagons soon joined his, headed in the same direction. He waved to them but focused on his faltering spirits. The past was the past and could not be changed, and no one was the same. He shouldn’t compare himself with Willis and Mary. Mattie wasn’t Mary, and he wasn’t Willis. They had learned from the young couple’s example, but they were different people. He might not have been happy with life in the upstairs bedroom of the Beilers’ home. Mattie thought she would have been, but living a thing was different from thinking a thing.

  Mervin’s whistle began again, and a smile was spread over his face by the time he pulled into the Stolls’ place.

  Willis stood beside the barn and waved his arms toward the barnyard gate. “On back, boys, on back,” Willis hollered.

  Mervin thundered past Willis with his team of Belgians. The sun had burst over the horizon and illuminated the stubble of a beard Willis’s face had begun to show since the wedding.

  “Gut morning,” Mervin hollered over his shoulder, but the sound was lost in the rattle of steel wagon wheels behind him.

  Willis’s daed, Herman, stepped out of the cornfield in front of him and directed Mervin where to turn. He was the first one here, which was quite an accomplishment. But he was single and had no frau or kinner to distract him. With Mattie in the house, he might have lingered over his breakfast and stolen one last kiss before he headed out to the barn.

  “Howdy there,” Herman greeted Mervin. He had the corn binder ready to go. His team of four horses hungrily pulled fresh stalks into their mouths and chewed the best they could with their bridles on.

  “A little different than things were last year,” Mervin commented.

  “Jah.” Herman’s cheerful look vanished. “That was some snow, but the Lord had mercy on us this year.”

  “Jah, this is true,” Mervin agreed. “But sorry, I shouldn’t have mentioned anything.”

  Herman managed to smile. “You suffered, too, if I remember right. You had a wedding planned.”

  Mervin nodded.

  “Anything this year?” Herman had a twinkle in his eye.

  Mervin chuckled and didn’t answer.

  Herman grinned. “Can’t let the cat out of the bag, I see.”

  “Got to keep the strings tight.” Mervin grinned.

  They laughed together, and Mervin positioned his wagon on the side of the corn picker as Herman clucked to his horses. The extra man on the wagon behind Mervin, young Peter Miller, joined him to hold the reins. Mervin greeted him with a smile and a nod of his head.

  “Nice morning,” Peter said as he kept Mervin’s team in time with the corn picker. “How are you doing?”

  “Couldn’t be any better,” Mervin told him and threw the first bundle of cornstalks toward the back of the wagon. They came fast and thick, and Mervin scurried back and forth. Peter soon switched places with him, and they paced each other until the load became top-heavy.

  Mervin hollered down to Herman. “We’re full.”

  Herman nodded and pulled back on the reins. Mervin hollered to his team, and they lurched forward so the wagon behind them could take their place. At a fast walk, they moved toward the barn and the thunder of the silage filler. An old steam engine powered the contraption. The English farmers had begun to use corn choppers in the fields, but little changed in the community. Mervin positioned his wagon near the whirl of the blades and tied the reins to the front rack. With Peter’s help, he began to toss in the bundles of corn. The racket filled their ears, while an extra roar sounded each time a sheaf of corn hit the blades.

  “You know to be careful,” Mervin mouthed the words in Peter’s direction.

  Peter nodded and made sure he had solid footing before he tossed the next bundle. Mervin did the same, and the wagon was soon empty. By midmorning they had repeated the routine half-a-dozen times. On their next time up, Mary appeared with a pitcher of lemonade and began to serve the men. Mervin and Peter emptied their wagon, and Mervin pulled his team aside to jump to the ground, with Peter behind him.

  “Gut morning,” Mary greeted them, her face aglow with happiness. “Thanks so very much for coming over to help Willis today.”

  “I’m more than glad to help,” Mervin assured her, and Peter nodded.

  Mary handed each of them a full glass of lemonade. “Any wedding bells this year for you and Mattie?” Mary teased.

  “I didn’t hear that,” Mervin said, and Peter held his ear shut with his free hand while they all laughed.

  “You can’t go wrong—that’s all I can say,” Mary told him.

  “How can I not go wrong?” Peter quipped.

  The laugher rose and fell again.

  “You have to take a girl home first,” Mary chided. “But isn’t it about time, Peter?”

  Peter reddened. “I have to find a girl first.”

  Mary made a face at him. “You’re not fooling me, Peter. There’s any number of girls willing to go home with a handsome young fellow like you.”

  Peter’s color increased, but he shook his head.

  “Jah, there is,” Mary insisted. “I saw young Lydia making eyes at you on Sunday. Just buckle up your nerve and ask her home.”

  “Maybe I don’t want to,” Peter muttered.

  Mary reached over to tickle his chin. “Who are you fooling, young man? You couldn’t keep your eyes off of Lydia.”

  Peter pretended to withdraw in horror.

  “He’ll get his courage up someday,” Mervin spoke up with his glass of lemonade almost empty. “It might be best to hold off on things anyway, with…” He stopped. Why spoil a perfect moment on a perfect day?

  Mary fell silent and stared at the ground. “Do you think it will be bad, Mervin? The men…”

  “If there is war, war is always bad,” he said.

  “Maybe the president will keep the country out of this thing.” Mary had hope in her eyes.

  “Maybe,” Mervin allowed. “But thanks for the lemonade, Mary. That was very gut.”

  Mary took a deep breath with some of the glow back on her face. “There was just a touch of salt to bring out the flavor. Thanks again for helping us out today. We hope to have our own place by this time next year.”

  “To a splendid little farm, then.” Mervin smiled and turned to go. Peter was close behind him.

  “What’s marriage like?” Peter mused when they had climbed back on the wagon.

  “Don’t ask me,” Mervin retorted.

  “But you have kissed Mattie, haven’t you?” Peter’s face was intense.

  “It’s a beautiful thing.” Mervin patted him on the shoulder. “Just take your time, and seek the Lord’s will.”

  “Do you think I should ask Lydia home before this war begins? Daed says we could all be gone for years. Lydia might not love me by the time I get back, or someone else might have taken her.”

  Mervin attempted a laugh. “Who would be left to take her?”

  “We are a little young,” Peter agreed, as if that had been the question. “But I don’t want to lose the girl. Lydia’s a jewel.”

  “Then at least let her know how you feel. Take her home for a few dates.” Mervin loosened the reins and clucked to his horses. The two men on the wagon behind them had hopped off, and Mary held out brimming glasses of lemonade to them. Mary’s smile filled her whole face.

  They rattled back in line behind the corn binder. “So are you and Mattie taking the plunge this year?” Peter asked.

  Mervin glanced at him. The man seemed to want encouragement, but he had struggled with the question himself for the longest time. “Each must arrive at the conclusion on their own,” Mervin told him. “You know weddings are a great secret. I can’t say.” Mervin attempted a grin.

  Peter didn’t answer, his gaze fixed back on the silage filler. “Something’s wrong up there,” he said.

  Mervin turned sideways for a better view. Several of the men near the steam engine scurried about
. That was strange behavior, but…“The blades might have gotten jammed,” he said. “If that’s the case, we’ll get set back for thirty minutes or so.”

  “It’s something else.” Peter continued to stare. “We had best go see.”

  “We can’t drive up there with the wagon,” Mervin protested.

  “I’ll run up.” Peter leaped from the wagon to race across the field.

  Mervin kept his gaze fixed on the site. The men still scurried about the corn chopper, which didn’t make sense if the blades were jammed. They’d be busy at work on the machine. As Mervin continued to watch, a figure detached itself from the small group and tore up the lane toward Route 340. He hadn’t seen a man run so fast in a long time. Mervin tied the reins to the rack and leaped from the wagon. He ran up to the corn binder and waved his arms about. Herman jerked his head up and brought the contraption to a halt with a puzzled look on his face.

  “There’s something seriously wrong at the steam engine,” Mervin hollered.

  “What’s wrong?” Herman asked the obvious.

  “I don’t know,” Mervin replied. “But Peter went up to look.”

  Herman appeared ready to cluck to his horses and continue when one of the men high on the wagonload of cornstalks hollered down. “We best go find out what’s going on, Herman.”

  Herman shrugged. “It can’t be anything serious, but I guess the horses can use the rest. Can one of you run and check?”

  “I’ll go,” both men said together and slid down the side of the wagon. They hurried across the cut corn, where Peter’s figure met them midfield. A short conversation ensued, with the two men running on toward the steam engine. Peter made slower progress back toward the corn picker. He didn’t speak until he was a dozen feet away from the wagon. “We’d best unhitch and go on up. There won’t be any more silo filling today.”

  “Can’t they fix the machine?” Herman asked.

  “It’s not the…” Peter studied the ground.

  “What’s wrong, then?” Herman demanded.

  “I’d rather not say,” Peter said.