An Amish Christmas Quilt (8 page)

“Oh, I know that, sweetheart,” Mary replied. “You're just excited—and so am I! You've made my whole Christmas season shine a lot brighter, you know it?”

Taylor's face lit up, and then she grinned furtively. “I'm not telling you who to pick for Joseph, either,” she murmured. “But it just
fits
that Seth is a carpenter, like Joseph was. And anybody can see how he cares for you and Emmanuel.”

Can they, now?
Mary wondered. In the last few minutes, a bishop and a seven-year-old girl had pointed this out to her as though the whole world already knew she and Seth should be together. It was too soon to go along with such a match—or to assume Seth would want to—but Mary smiled as she put on her jacket. She couldn't imagine any twenty-something man wanting to court a widow with three kids, but thoughts of spending time with Seth certainly put her in a better mood than mourning Elmer did.

“And besides, he's so nice. And
cute
,” Taylor added with a decisive nod.

“I won't go telling him that—even though I agree with you,” Mary replied. It wasn't the Plain way to value good looks over a man's other qualities. “And don't you tell Seth I said so, either!”

Taylor drew her fingers across her lips, as though closing a zipper. Then she giggled. “I hope it's not snowy and cold on Christmas Eve. This is going to be so
fabulous
!”

C
HAPTER
7

When the bell above the shop door jangled, Seth looked up from the shelf he was restocking. Was he imagining things, or was that Mary Kauffman peering into his showroom? “Come on in!” he called out. “I just got a new shipment of wooden toys. They're on consignment from crafters in other Amish towns.”

“Aunt Miriam told me you might have something for Lucy and Sol,” Mary replied as she walked toward him. “She's baking cookies with them, so this is a
gut
time to find their Christmas gifts.”

Seth paused to watch her. What a picture she made! Her strawberry-blond hair glimmered beneath her crisp
kapp
, and even though Mary still wore black, she seemed so much healthier—and happier—than she had on that fateful day when he'd found her passed out in her surrey. From his basket carrier, Emmanuel gurgled happily. Was it Seth's imagination again, or did the wee boy kick his feet and wiggle when their gazes met?

Better keep your mind on business,
he reminded himself.
Letting your imagination run free can only lead to trouble.

And yet, how could anything bad come from getting better acquainted with Mary Kauffman, now that she'd committed to staying in Willow Ridge? It was a rare treat, seeing her here without Lucy and Sol . . . even if the tilt of her brows suggested she might have something on her mind besides shopping.

“These wooden yo-yos are a big hit with the boys,” Seth remarked as he held one up. “And we have wooden pull-carts and checker games, along with doll cradles and kid-sized rocking chairs. Look around all you want. It's
gut
to see you.”

Mary smiled up at him. “If I can't find something here, either I'm too picky or Lucy and Sol already have too many toys,” she remarked. She placed her hand on the head of a rocking horse with yarn fringe for a mane and tail, smiling as it swung forward and back . . . forward and back. “I'd be fibbing if I didn't tell you why I really came to see you, though.”

Seth's heart turned a couple of flip-flops. His mind raced over several enticing possibilities. “
Jah
, and why would that be?”

“Yesterday afternoon, Bishop Tom agreed that a living Nativity would be a
gut
idea, weather permitting. The Leitner kids and my two are
so
excited, and Ben's going to fix up that new addition to the barn you built for us, so—” Mary fixed her deep green eyes on him. “All we need is Joseph. I'm hoping you'll join us, Seth.”

The smile dropped from his face. “It's not that I don't like the Nativity idea,” he insisted, “but Christmas Eve programs were the bane of my existence when I was a kid in school. I'm sorry, Mary, but—”

“But you won't have to say
one word
,” Mary said persuasively. “I could ask Ben, but . . . well, after the way you helped me when Emmanuel was born, and how you seemed so—so solid and strong—when Dat fussed at me last Sunday, I was hoping . . .”

Seth really, really hated to disappoint Mary. She didn't impress him as the type to be constantly pecking at a fellow, asking for favors to get his attention, either. And he couldn't deny how the shine in her eyes and her melodious voice affected him as they stood in silence . . . a silence she was probably using to make him give in.

“I have a hard time believing you're
afraid
to be in front of people, Seth. And you've known most of the folks who'll be there all your life,
jah
? ”

He let out a harsh sigh. There was no getting out of this conversation, so he'd better get his objections out in the open. “It's not that I'm afraid so much as I get frustrated,” he replied in a thin voice. “Whenever folks are watchin' me, expectin' me to do this or that, I invariably mess up and do something really stupid. To this day, my two brothers tease me about the Christmas Eve I fell backwards off the platform during the skits at the schoolhouse.”

“But I'm not your two brothers. I wouldn't dream of making fun of you, Seth,” Mary said quietly. “I . . . I like you. And I know you'll keep the animals under control—and Emmanuel trusts you, too. See?”

Mary took the baby from his carrier and offered him to Seth. Of
course
, he set down his box of toys to hold the little guy, even as he suspected Mary was using the baby to get her way about the Nativity on Christmas Eve. “I like you, too, Mary, but bein' in the spotlight's just not my cup of tea.”

“I admire humility in a man.”

Once more Seth wanted to turn cartwheels. This pretty young mother was saying things he'd always longed to hear, and he wanted to believe them, but . . .

“All right, so I've told ya why I'm not wild about bein' in the Nativity play,” Seth said, holding her gaze. “Surely you have something that frustrates you, too, Mary.”

Mary's expression got more serious. She watched Emmanuel pat the side of Seth's face with his little hand. “I do,” she replied in a tight voice. “I get so tired of being told—mostly by the men in my family and Elmer's—that I'm too impulsive and gullible. I know all about feeling
stupid
, Seth, along with being made to feel that my opinions and decisions can't be taken seriously. And I detest being talked about as though I'm not in the room and my feelings don't matter.”

Seth's jaw dropped. “Why would anyone say
you
were stupid or gullible, Mary?” he countered. “From what I've seen, you've made the best of a lot of bad situations. You're movin' forward after a year that would've rattled
anybody
,” he insisted. “Why, I don't know another soul who could've handled so many problems the way you have. And yet here ya stand, smilin' at me as though life's treatin' ya real
gut
.”

Mary sighed softly. “Actually, from the moment I told Dat I was selling Elmer's farm, all the pieces seemed to fall into place. Emery and I have settled on a
gut
price for that land in Bowling Green . . . so if you don't want to talk about the living Nativity, maybe we could discuss building me a house?” Her eyebrows rose expressively. “I have no idea how to go about planning a place, or what it might cost, or if I'll have enough money from selling the farm to make it work. I don't even know where I might find a piece of land to put it on. But I want
you
to help me with it, Seth.
Please?
”

Seth couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. Couldn't for the life of him recall what day it was or what he'd eaten for dinner. Mary's sweet face—her earnest expression, and the trust she was placing in him—compelled him to gaze back at her even though he was scared half out of his mind. Was she figuring to share that house with
him
someday? Did she have ulterior motives about latching on to him because she had three little kids to raise and no means of support? He had a sudden vision of a sturdy little white house with a porch and a swing, and he was sitting beside Mary in the evening breeze as they glided forward and back . . .

But then, that was his imagination kicking in again, wasn't it?

“I don't know what land sells for in Bowling Green,” he said in a low voice, “but my brothers and I are experienced at stretchin' a dollar without cuttin' any corners, far as the construction goes. I might even know of a plot of land—”

When Mary's eyes lit up, Seth kicked himself. Why did he think the dogleg of property between his
mamm's
garden and the Lantz place would make a good setting for Mary's house? And why had he mentioned it, especially without consulting his father first?

“Well,
anyway
,” Seth hurried on, “if ya tell me what all you'd like in your house—how many bedrooms and how big ya want the kitchen and such—I could sketch something up and give ya an estimate. We could adjust from there, once ya knew where ya wanted to build.”

Mary pressed her palms together, looking as delighted as a child . . . a very pretty, persuasive child. “Oh, Seth,
denki
so much! Just seeing the plans on paper would be making a dream come true. I—I've never had any say about the houses I've lived in.”

Seth blinked. It had never occurred to him that most Plain women didn't get a chance to design a home. They accepted whatever their husbands decided upon, perhaps getting to choose the kitchen appliances, at most. “Well, then! Get your ideas together, and if anything ya suggest won't work, I can steer ya toward something that will. Micah and Aaron and I are real
gut
at makin' the most out of a little space.”

Mary's ecstatic expression made him feel inexplicably happy. And he'd gotten her off the subject of the Nativity, too! She bought one of the rocking horses for Lucy and a sturdy wooden wagon for Sol, and then asked if he'd keep her purchases here at the shop until Ben could pick them up.

As Mary flashed him a final smile and left the shop with Emmanuel, Seth stood amazed at what had taken place in the space of twenty minutes. He was flattered that she wanted him to build her future home here in Willow Ridge. And the way his heart was banging against his rib cage suggested that he was secretly hoping to play a long-term role in Mary's life, even though it was way too early to be considering such a thing.

For his next trick, he'd have to approach Dat about that plot of land. He went to the back workroom, where china hutches and bedroom sets were in various stages of completion, to look out the window. Nobody knew why the Lantz place, where Miriam had lived with her first husband, and the Brenneman land had been interlocked like puzzle pieces in the survey, or why the two families hadn't ever evened up the property between them. It was only a few acres—not nearly enough to farm—and the only access to a road would be along the Brennemans' lane, which ran past the shop, or down the Lantzes' lane, which met the county highway alongside the Sweet Seasons. No man would even consider it—

Once again, Seth's train of thought was chugging along faster than he cared to consider, but he'd agreed to go along for the ride. There was no backing out now—and why would he want to? Mary hadn't asked him to do anything he hadn't done dozens of times before.

C
HAPTER
8

Mary sat at Miriam's sewing machine the afternoon of Monday, December 20, working on costumes with Rhoda and Rebecca. Because Plain folks didn't believe in wearing clothing that attracted attention, it was a big deal for the kids to have the bishop's permission to wear
wings
and kingly cloaks and shepherds' robes . . . even if a lot of the costumes' grandeur depended upon the wearers' imaginations.

“You say your church in New Haven was getting rid of these little white choir robes?” Mary asked Rebecca. “They're making our job so much easier, because I can just hem them to make them fit each angel.”

“They look shimmery, too!” Rhoda remarked as she leaned over Mary's shoulder. “And the girls can wear them right over the top of their dresses. I'm just glad ya brought us the wings, sister, because designin' those had me stumped. Guess I haven't spent enough time around angels to know how they work!”

The three of them laughed. Strains of “The First Noel” drifted in from the kitchen, where Teacher Alberta was working with all the children so they'd be ready to sing on Saturday night. She was showing great patience, as nearly half of the eleven kids weren't old enough to be in school.

“While I was talking to the youth choir director, she said they'd gotten new Christmas pageant costumes this year,” Rebecca explained. “It was lucky timing that I could latch on to their castoffs.”

“
Jah
, I was thinking we'd have to redesign some of our old dresses for the wise men's robes,” Mary said as she focused on the hem she was stitching. “I can't think the two Zook boys or Sol would be any too happy wearing dresses!”

“It's
gut
that the Zooks brought along several pairs of long johns, too,” Rebecca remarked. “The kids'll need something warm under their costumes so they won't have to wear coats. The weather report for Christmas Eve looks really good, though. In the fifties during the day!”

“And with the Schrocks bringing over the space heaters and big lights they use in their auctioneerin' business, the whole stable area should stay fairly warm,” Rhoda said. And we'll be able to see if the kids—or
you
, Mary—are lookin' chilled.”

“Those stretchy gloves Rebecca found, along with the thermal underwear, should keep us all comfy,” Mary said as she removed the slick fabric from beneath the sewing machine's needle. “There! The four angel robes are ready. Let's write the girls' names inside the back plackets—Taylor and Amelia Zook will wear the longer ones, and Lucy and Sara Knepp need the short ones. And they each have a set of those silvery wings,
jah
?”

“They do,” Rebecca replied as she checked the hangers they were preparing for each child. “And I'll look over the halos to be sure they're all in good shape.”

“Let's have the four shepherds come in next,” Mary suggested. “I've picked out all the solid-colored tunics and robes but we'll need to use one of the striped ones, unless we sew something up real quick.”

Rhoda held up each wrap-around robe to be sure they were in good repair. “Well, Brett's not Amish, so let's give him this red and tan striped piece. It looks to be the right length—and again, it's
gut
the boys can wear these over their pants and shirts. With the long johns, three layers should be plenty warm enough.”

When Rebecca brought the four shepherds in from the kitchen, Mary chuckled. Each of the boys tentatively slipped into the heavy cotton robes, allowing her and Rhoda to tie their belts and check the lengths. Next came the rectangular headpieces, which hung down over the boys' shoulders and were held on with stretchy bands.

“Brett, it's awfully nice of you to be a shepherd so Sol can play one of the wise men,” Mary remarked. “He'll be a lot less bashful that way, being with Cyrus and Levi like he is at school.”

Brett draped his arms around Josh and Joey, the Knepp twins. “These guys and Timmy are already my buddies,” he said. “We'll be good shepherds together, with those lambs Bishop Tom's bringing.”

“And I just happened to find something for
you
, Timmy!” Rebecca said as she reached into her sack of accessories. “The Schrock ladies use this for their Easter decorations in the quilt shop. They said you could carry it, if you want.”

Little Timmy Knepp, not yet four, lit up like a Christmas candle as Rebecca handed him a fleecy stuffed lamb. The toy was nearly as big as he was, and the smile on his face was priceless.

“You boys look mighty fine!” Rhoda proclaimed. She knelt in front of Timmy to pin up the bottom edge of his robe. “You guys are
gut
to go. Your singin' sounded real nice, too. When ya get back to the kitchen, have the wise men come back here.”

As Rhoda and Rebecca put the other shepherds' costumes on hangers, Mary sat down at the sewing machine to hem Timmy's robe. She heard Cyrus and Levi Zook come in with Sol, sounding bold and ready to look kingly—until both of the Zook boys sounded off at once.

“You think we're gonna wear
that
sort of getup?” Levi demanded.

“Those are
dresses
!” Cyrus said. “My friends would laugh their butts off if they saw me—”

“Cyrus! Enough of your mouth!” Rhoda scolded. “You'll be wearin' your pants and shirt underneath the tunic, so it's not like—”

“Oh, no I won't!”

“Me, neither,” his brother chimed in.

“So have you ever seen a
king
, a wise man from the East, wearing tri-blend trousers and suspenders, then?” Rebecca challenged them. “Here—look at these illustrations of people in Bible times. Real men—even Jesus—wore flowing tunics. And to be sure no one mistakes you for a girl—”

Mary turned around to watch this little confrontation. Her son's eyes were wide, as though he didn't really want to wear a flowing robe, either, but he had sense enough not to protest—not in front of
her
, anyway.

Rebecca held up a dark, wavy hairpiece, and then slipped it over Sol's head before he could back away. “Beards!” she said as she tucked the wiglet around his chin. “And we have cool crowns for you to choose from, and some awesome pots to hold your gold and frankincense and myrrh. But if you're not man enough to do a good job, like the other kids, then we'll have Ben and Bishop Tom and Andy Leitner play your parts. They're the wisest men I know.”

“
Jah
, and they'll be mighty disappointed that they gave us special permission to put on this living Nativity, and then you oldest boys set such a bad example for the younger ones,” Rhoda said sternly. She planted her fist on her hip. “So how's it going to be, Cyrus and Levi? We're not fittin' ya for your costumes unless we know you're gonna show up Saturday night. With the right attitude.”

“It's too late to cancel,” Rebecca stated. “The posters are all out and I advertised this pageant on the Sweet Seasons website. So—with you or without you—the show will go on.”

Mary nipped her lip. While the Zook boys carried on a silent but meaningful exchange of gazes, Sol chose a cloak of deep purple and slipped into it. Next he settled the largest crown on his head, and chose the most ostentatious of the three boxes. “How's this?” he asked, looking to Mary for her reaction.

She walked around him, checking the cloak's length. “Seems to me the wisdom of Solomon is shining through,” she said in a low voice. “Your
dat
would be so pleased that you're a willing participant, and a leader, Sol—even though you're the youngest of the kings.”

Cyrus was watching Sol with an appraising eye. He chose a tunic of rich green velveteen, dropped it over his head, and then put on a gold stole. Rebecca was ready with a reddish-brown beard, and they completed the costume with a turban-style hat and an elegant brass decanter. On impulse, Mary went to her closet and came out with a full-length mirror that usually hung on the back of the door. When the two costumed boys saw themselves, their delight filled the room.

“Whoa,
Bessy
!” Cyrus exclaimed as he turned this way and that.

“And you're sure some other district's bishop's not gonna tell us this is all wrong?” Sol asked cautiously. “What if . . . what if Grandfather sees us this way and—”

“Bishop Tom and Ben will be right there, and so will Seth and I,” Mary assured him. It saddened her that Sol was intimidated by her father's brusque personality, but perhaps this would be a time for some risk-taking . . . some teachable moments in their faith. “I can't think God's going to punish us for presenting the story of Jesus's birth, if we all act with respect and humility.”

She turned then, to see Levi dressed in a stately tunic of cranberry red with a coordinating red and gold crown. In a black beard, holding a box made to resemble carved ivory, he stepped between his kingly companions at the mirror.

Mary kept her chuckle to her herself. Levi wasn't saying anything, but his flicker of a grin—and the way he stood taller, with his shoulders squared—suggested that he was secretly pleased with his appearance. Approaching footsteps announced that the other children had finished their singing session with Teacher Alberta, and when they burst into the kitchen they all stopped and gaped at the wise men.

“Ooooh,” said little Sara Knepp, her eyes widening.

“You guys look
awesome
,” Taylor stated.

That cinched it. Mary could see by the Zook boys' faces that Taylor's opinion carried weight even though she wasn't officially Plain yet. And when Teacher Alberta entered the kitchen, she pushed up her thick glasses to get a clearer look at the three kings.

“My
stars
,” she said as she circled them. “Oh, this pageant will be so much better thanks to all you've done for us, Rebecca. And as long as we follow the one Star, to worship and remember the Jesus who was born to die for us, we'll recall this Christmas Eve as one of the finest of our lives.”

Mary smiled. She couldn't have said that better herself.

As Seth worked alongside Ben on Friday, preparing the space where the living Nativity would take place, he felt a rising excitement—a floating sensation, which he'd felt ever since he'd told Mary that he'd participate in the pageant. He drove a few bolts into the upright support Ben was holding, which connected crossbars that would serve as a temporary pen for the sheep. Sol was tossing a ball for Rowdy, then racing the agile dog across the lot to retrieve it.

“Looks like Mary's sewed up your costume and hers, Joseph,” Ben remarked as they completed the pen. “She seems mighty pleased that this whole Nativity scenario has worked out so well.”

“It has,” Seth agreed. “From the sounds of the forecast, we'll be fine—especially with the lights and the space heater and the generator the Schrocks are loanin' us. I heard the kids practicin' their carols, and I think everybody who comes will be pleased and inspired—even if it's only the parents and the locals.”

“Hard to know what sort of crowd we might draw. Let's get these hay bales arranged, so you and Mary have a place to sit when ya want to,” Ben suggested as they began that task. “The bales can hide the heater and the lights, too, along with the cords goin' to the generator in the barn, so it looks a little more realistic to the folks who're watchin'.”

Seth and Ben had just placed a double row of bales in a small semicircle, and then another layer of bales on top of the back ones, when Rowdy bounded up onto them. The dog was barking with his ball in his mouth, springing from bale to bale. Sol was right behind him, laughing and jumping onto the bales, as well.

“All right, guys, we can't have this tearin' around,” Seth said. He snapped his fingers to get Rowdy's attention, and then pointed to the ground. “Rowdy,
down.
Right now.”

The border collie's ears rose and his alert eyes held Seth's gaze for a moment. Then he hopped off the bales and sat on the ground.

Sol frowned. “We were just playin'—”

“And if Rowdy thinks he can carouse in here, he'll do the same tomorrow night,” Seth explained. “We can't have him roughhousin', knockin' over little angels and shepherds, or agitatin' the sheep and the cow.”

Sol immediately looked to Ben for support. “So how come
he
can tell us what to do when it's your barnyard, Uncle Ben?” he asked shrilly. “And Rowdy's
my
dog, not his!”

“Seth's watchin' out for you and the other kids,” Ben replied, as he, too, gestured for Sol to climb down. “This is where your
mamm'll
be sittin' with Emmanuel, and she doesn't need Rowdy upsettin' the baby. The whole idea of this Nativity is to worship Jesus, like we're in church. If Rowdy doesn't behave, we'll have to put him in the barn.”