by Sarah Price
“EASY THERE,” HE MURMURED, HIS VOICE LOW AND HIS BREATH WARMING HER EAR.
Embarrassed, Bethany tried not to look up. She started to take a step backward, but he still held her. Curious, she tilted her head enough so that she could raise her eyes and meet his gaze.
“You okay?”
She gave a single nod.
“Sorry about that,” John said and relaxed his hands. “Didn’t mean to sneak up behind you.”
She took a deep breath. There had been something comforting about being so close to him, her cheek practically resting against his shoulder. “I should’ve looked where I was going.”
Still, he didn’t release her and remained standing there, silent staring intently into her face. His eyes narrowed as he studied her.
“What’s wrong?”
Slowly, John leaned over, lifting up one hand and running the backs of his fingers across her cheek. “You splashed water on your face.”
Instinctively, she reached up and touched her cheek where he had. “Did I?”
“It’s gone.” Finally, he released his grip and took a step away from her, giving her some space. “Surprised to see you still here.”
Also by Sarah Price
Belle: An Amish Retelling of Beauty and the Beast
Ella: An Amish Retelling of Cinderella
Sadie: An Amish Retelling of Snow White
The Amish Cookie Club
Published by Kensington Publishing Corporation
An Amish Cookie Club Christmas
SARAH PRICE
ZEBRA BOOKS
KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.
www.kensingtonbooks.com
All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.
Table of Contents
“EASY THERE,” HE MURMURED, HIS VOICE LOW AND HIS BREATH WARMING HER EAR.
Also by
Title Page
Copyright Page
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-One
Chapter Fifty-Two
Chapter Fifty-Three
Chapter Fifty-Four
Chapter Fifty-Five
Chapter Fifty-Six
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Chapter Sixty
Epilogue
Recipes from the Amish Cookie Club
Teaser chapter
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
ZEBRA BOOKS are published by
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Copyright © 2019 by Price Productions, LLC
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ISBN: 978-1-4201-4918-0
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Chapter One
Edna sat at the kitchen table, her calendar book opened to the month of November. In the past, the calendar pages might have had a scribble or two here and there. But not this year. The rest of November and all of the December pages were anything but empty.
Removing her reading glasses, she rubbed the bridge of her nose and sighed. Not only was every Friday and Saturday leading up to Christmas scheduled for serving the noon meal to tourists, but starting next week, so was every Wednesday and Thursday. Even Thanksgiving week was full, with Tuesday scheduled as a makeup for the holiday.
She felt as if she might just succumb to tears. How on earth had she let this happen?
“Maem?”
She looked up as her eldest son, John, walked into the kitchen.
Forcing a smile—no sense in letting him see her fret—Edna set down her glasses and turned around in order to better see him. With his dark pants and white shirt, he wore the traditional clothing of an Amish man. But it was his piercing blue eyes that made him stand out in a crowd. Regardless of how handsome he was, John would always hold a special place in her heart, not just because he was her eldest child but because he was the most caring of her three boys.
“You’re home early from the auction haus.” Her eyes shifted to the clock on the wall. Was it already four thirty? She hadn’t even started supper yet! “Oh help!”
John leaned against the counter and smiled at her, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “Let me guess.” He reached up and tipped back his straw hat. “Lost track of time again, ja?”
Edna took a deep breath, willing away the sense of anxiety that grew inside her chest. “Seems to be happening a lot these days.”
“You work too hard.”
She couldn’t argue that point, so instead, she changed the subject. “Speaking of work, how was your day?”
Something changed in his expression. A dullness, she thought, replaced the twinkle in his eyes as he shrugged. “Usual. Busy like most Thursdays. Lots of horses coming in tonight for tomorrow’s auction. Had to get the stalls ready for them.”
The lack of joy on his face said it all. At twenty-six, John was old enough to run his own farm. The only problem was that the family farm wasn’t large—or profitable—enough to sustain the entire family. Dairy farming had taken a hit in recent years due to the decrease in milk prices. And that meant the family needed supplemental income in order to survive.
A few years back, Edna had started serving the midday meal to tourists during the late
spring and summer months. This year, however, she’d agreed to continue hosting the Englischers throughout the autumn season, too. And not just one or two days a week, but four days. The family needed the money, after all.
Shortly afterward, John had been the next one to seek other work in order to help the family pay the bills. His love of livestock made him a natural hire for the local auction house. He worked Tuesdays through Fridays, helping to prepare for and oversee the livestock auctions on Wednesdays and horse auctions on Fridays. Unfortunately, Edna knew that while he was happy to contribute to the family, John should’ve been the one to stay home, while his two younger brothers, Jonas and Jeremiah, should’ve been the ones to leave the farm and find employment elsewhere.
But sometimes what should’ve been wasn’t what actually happened.
John glanced over her shoulder at her calendar. His eyes widened and he whistled under his breath.
“Overbooked again, eh?”
Shutting the calendar, Edna pursed her lips, a feigned expression of irritation on her face. Truth be told, she could never be irritated with John. Of her three sons, John had always been her rock. Unlike Jonas and Jeremiah, John was sensible and responsible, a levelheaded man with a righteous reputation and a strong faith in God. And, of course, he was a man devoted to his family.
The only problem was that his family consisted of his parents and brothers. Most of his friends had already settled down with children of their own now. It was high time for John to do the same, but he showed no inclination to court any of the Amish women in their church district.
“Oh! You know me far too well, John Esh!”
The last thing she wanted to do was complain to John about her having taken on far too much work during the holiday season. Because she’d had no choice. No sense in complaining about something she couldn’t change.
Standing up, she made her way toward the kitchen counter.
“And it seems I’m far behind on making supper for you men.”
It was Tuesday and she had promised the boys—for she always referred to Jonas and Jeremiah as “the boys”—steak and mashed potatoes for supper. They’d spent the day spreading manure in the fields, preparing the soil for next year’s crops. With the weather turning crisp and cold, a hearty supper was definitely in order.
“Need help?”
Edna gave him a soft smile. “Nee, John. You relax a spell. Seems you’ve been working extra hard of late.”
She watched as he took a seat at the table and stretched out, his long legs crossing at the ankles. “Ja, the auction haus has been busier than usual. Reckon that’s good. Lots of horses and livestock, even though it’s nearly winter.”
“What about buyers?”
He sighed and rubbed his eyes. “Ja, plenty of those, too.”
It broke Edna’s heart to see him so tired. All he wanted was to work on the farm. But he’d never complained about having to find outside employment. If only Jonas and Jeremiah were inclined to do the same, she thought. Maybe then John could work on the farm year-round.
“Reckon that’s gut, eh?” She hurried about the kitchen, trying to refocus her mind on supper and not on how overbooked she was for the next six weeks leading up to Christmas.
“They really need the help,” John continued, but there was a forlorn undertone to his voice. He paused long enough for Edna to look at him. “Mayhaps that’s what you need, Maem. Help.”
She smiled to herself. “I already told you, I’m fine. Supper won’t take but half an hour.”
“I meant real help. With your business.”
Not that again, she thought. She’d been struggling with so much for so long, and both John and her husband, Elmer, had been after her to hire someone to assist her with the meal preparations and serving the guests when they came. But she’d fought it.
“And I already said I’d think about it,” she said.
The truth was that she had thought about it. Hiring help would cut into her profits, and they really needed every dollar.
“You can’t keep doing all these things by yourself,” John retorted. “You work too hard, Maem. Now you’re taking on more. And just before the holidays.”
The holidays.
Edna loved Thanksgiving and Christmas, that was for sure and certain. There’d be family suppers with Elmer’s siblings, as well as with her own. Not just one or two supper invitations, but a dozen or more. Edna knew that they’d try to attend as many as they could. After all, it wasn’t often that they could get together and see everyone: nieces, nephews, cousins, new babies.
And, of course, they’d attend the school pageant, as they did every year. Despite not having children attending the school anymore, Edna always enjoyed seeing the young children as they sang hymns, recited Scripture, and reenacted the Nativity scene.
Yes, the holidays were a busy time for everyone.
Despite her love of the holiday season, inwardly, Edna groaned. This year would be different, for John was right: she was working too hard and, most likely, wouldn’t come up for air until just a few days before Christmas which left little time to actually enjoy the season. Between meeting every week to bake cookies with Verna, Mary, and Wilma for Yoders’ Store in Shipshewana and running her own catering business, Edna wondered if she’d taken on more than she could chew. Or “swallow,” in this case.
At least tomorrow was Wednesday. Her friends would be coming over to bake the cookies for Yoders’ Store. She’d have to tell them that it would be her last Wednesday helping. Hopefully she could keep meeting with her friends to bake cookies every other Friday morning, for they always made goodies to share at fellowship after their respective worship services. No matter how busy she was, she certainly enjoyed meeting with her friends, but she knew she’d have to forfeit Wednesdays for a while.
The Cookie Club. That’s what people called it. And while Edna didn’t particularly care for that nickname, she’d grown used to hearing it over the years.
“You really do need some help,” John repeated.
“I’ll think about it,” she agreed for the dozenth time, trying not to glance at him over her shoulder.
Leveling his gaze at her, his expression doubtful, John raised an eyebrow. “You say that all the time, but thinking and doing are two different things.”
Edna couldn’t help but laugh. That had been her most often repeated expression to the boys growing up, especially Jonas and Jeremiah, who tended to think more than do, unless doing was something they wanted done.
Turning around to face him, she gave him a warm smile. “Danke for your concern, John. And since you are so insistent, mayhaps I will let you help me by peeling these potatoes.” She walked over to the table and plopped down a large bowl of unpeeled potatoes. “Now, what do you think about that?”
He laughed at her as he picked up the peeler. “Think I put my foot in my mouth this time.”
“That you did, John,” she said in a lighthearted tone. “That you did.”
Chapter Two
On Wednesday, Mary sat at Edna’s kitchen table, one hand wrapped around a mug of hot coffee while she plucked at a cinnamon bun that Edna must’ve made earlier that morning. Inhaling the sweet smell of cookies baking in the oven, Mary couldn’t help but smile. She loved coming to Edna’s house with Verna and Wilma, especially every other Friday. It was such a nice tradition that they’d made, baking cookies for their congregations.
A few years back, they’d begun meeting on a regular basis. Edna had suggested it as a way to support their friend Wilma who’d been going through a rough patch when her youngest daughters, twins named Rachel and Ella Mae, began their rumschpringe. Though she was usually overly opinionated and vociferous, Wilma had encountered a blue spell, clearly missing her youngest daughters always being around the house. Getting together had been a way for the friends to provide support for Wilma during that time, but they’d kept the gatherings going afterward. As it turned out, they all needed support over the years.
“Guess who I saw on Sunday after worship?” Verna gushed.
Mary didn’t need to guess. Ever since her daughter, Myrna, had married the widower Ezekiel Riehl, Verna rarely spoke of anything else. To be truthful, Mary had grown more than just a little weary of hearing about Myrna. Four months had passed since the wedding, but Verna acted as if Myrna was the first Amish woman to ever get married. Myrna, Myrna, Myrna. That’s all she ever talked about.
Of course, Mary would never say such a thing to her cousin out loud, but she certainly thought it.
“And I just can’t believe there are no babies yet!” Verna gushed. “I just can’t wait for a grandbaby!”
Wilma made a guttural noise, deep in her throat. “Appears you have to, don’t it?”
Mary glanced at her friend, too aware that Wilma sounded as exasperated as she felt regarding Verna’s constant chatter about Myrna. However, feeling the sting of Wilma’s words on behalf of their friend, Mary forced a pleasant smile and reached over to pat Verna’s hand. “All things in God’s time, not ours.”
Edna cleared her throat. “Reckon I might as well tell you all now.”
The room fell silent as three pairs of eyes, including Mary’s, turned to her.
From the expression on Edna’s face, it was clear that she was not about to share good news. Mary braced herself for the worst.
Edna sighed and shut her eyes as she spoke. “Well, it appears I won’t be able to host our weekly cookie sessions for Yoders’ Store for the next few weeks.”
A stunned silence overcame the room.
For the past year, ever since MayFest, they’d begun baking cookies on Wednesday to sell in town at Yoders’ Store. The bishop’s wife had asked them to do so in order to raise money for the Amish Aid, the community fund that helped Amish families in need and was often used to cover medical bills since the Amish didn’t subscribe to health insurance. While baking more cookies for Yoders’ Store had created more work for all of them, it had also meant another excuse for them to get together.
