An Amish Country Christmas (18 page)

“Oh, but I’d be happy for you to have it, Vernon!”

“Nonsense.” The bishop held up his hand to stop Tom’s protest. “Your work has great
worth, my friend. We all know how the extra cash comes in handy, considering that
we preachers and bishops spend a great deal of time shepherding our flocks without
compensation. Spiritual rewards are a gift from God, of course, but here on Earth
we’re expected to pay our bills.”

Nazareth was grateful to the bishop for saying such a thing to Tom. Her sister was
nodding her agreement.

“Nobody else makes sets quite like these,” Jerusalem said as she stood beside Vernon.
She picked up the cow and the two fluffy, white sheep, smiling at their contented
expressions. “Why, if you could carve me a set that included some goats, Tom, I just
know the Knepp children would enjoy it. I worry about them,” she added softly, “seeing’s
how Hiram’s busy starting up his new town. There’s nobody to look after those three
little boys and Sara, now that Nazareth and I have walked away from them.”

Nazareth’s heart constricted with the same regret her sister had just expressed. “
Jah
, we had our differences with Hiram, but his kids are mighty special to us.”

“And we can pause for a moment, right here and now, to pray for them.”

To Nazareth’s surprise, Vernon grasped her hand and took Jerusalem’s as he bowed his
head. Tom took her other hand, and as the four of them stood in reverent silence,
lifting up their petition for Josh, Joey, Sara, and little Timmy, Nazareth felt a
subtle power . . . a strength and purpose that was magnified by the way they had joined
their hands and hearts.

Vernon sighed serenely. “It’s a blessing to be here among you folks. A much-needed
retreat for me, and a time of discovery, as well.” When he smiled at Jerusalem over
the top of his cocoa mug, his eyes twinkled with mischief. “Might I suggest a game
of Scrabble after dinner? My aunts and nephew aren’t as keen for board games as I
am, so I rarely get to play.”

Nazareth giggled. “Oh, you’ve opened quite a can of worms there, Bishop, asking two
old schoolteachers to play Scrabble!”

“
Jah
, I’ll take you on, Vernon,” Jerusalem replied without missing a beat. “It’s been
too long since I enjoyed a game with somebody who plays it the way my sister and I
do.”

“The perfect way to pass a snowy evening,” Tom agreed happily. “I probably haven’t
had that game out since my kids married and left home.”

“We’d better fix that then,” Vernon asserted cheerfully. “Who says young people get
to have all the fun?”

Chapter Three

Jerusalem felt as if bright, shiny bubbles were bouncing around in her chest. Vernon
had indeed opened a fine can of worms by suggesting Scrabble, and she couldn’t wait
to play. While she reminded herself that winning wasn’t the point—that it was an evening
well spent if each of them played the best game they could—her fingers itched to arrange
wooden letter tiles into long, high-point words.

“This is the best time we’ve had in a while,” Nazareth murmured. They stood side by
side at the stove, stirring orange sauce into the sliced beets and adding blended
flour, milk, and melted butter to the pan of boiled cabbage. “It’s been so long since
we played board games!”

“
Jah
, our crochet club’s a
gut
way to visit with our female friends, but this!” Jerusalem glanced over her shoulder
to be sure neither of the men was within earshot. “This feels like a double date,
Sister!”

“Tom’s loving it, too. Haven’t seen him smile this way, well—since we came here in
October.” Nazareth turned off the gas burner. “I’ll set these beets in the warming
oven and start the butter sizzling for the steaks. My word, but we have a feast tonight!”

“In more ways than one.” As Jerusalem stirred the cabbage to keep the cream sauce
from scorching, she glanced at the table. “I hope Tom won’t mind that we got out the
better set of dishes and a linen tablecloth. Lettie left some nice things behind and
it’s a shame not to use them.”

She set the lid on the pan of cabbage and took it off the heat. Though she’d been
cooking and setting a pretty table since her teens, Jerusalem wanted this evening
to stand out . . . wanted everything just so, even if neither of the fellows would
care about the cloth napkins folded beside their china plates or the crease in the
freshly ironed tablecloth that ran down the exact center of the table.

When she glanced into the front room, she smiled. It was indeed a blessing to see
Tom Hostetler looking so relaxed, to hear his laughter as he and Vernon chatted. The
past few months of Hiram’s duplicity had taken their toll on everyone in Willow Ridge,
but Preacher Tom had borne the brunt of it. Some members had whispered of moving to
other districts if Bishop Knepp didn’t cease his brash, controversial behavior. It
was a relief to see the New Year as a fresh slate where they would write the community’s
next chapter with a calmer, more compassionate leader in charge.

As though he’d felt her gaze, Vernon looked at her. Again his eyes lingered, and Jerusalem
wiggled her fingers in a wave. “Won’t be but a few more minutes,” she announced. “Those
are mighty fine steaks you brought us, Vernon.”

“And what else smells so delectable?” he asked as he rose from the sofa. “Let’s take
a look, Tom. The anticipation’s making me twitch!”

Jerusalem turned and inhaled deeply. Nothing smelled as wonderful as beef sizzling
in a skillet, with butter, salt, and pepper. As she began setting the vegetables on
the table, the two fellows lifted lids of pots and stood a little closer to her and
her sister than was the usual way of it. All her life she’d known the men of the house
to seat themselves and wait to be served, so it was a treat to have Vernon take the
bowl of buttered succotash from her . . . letting his large, warm hands brush hers
for a moment.

“You’ve outdone yourself,” the bishop murmured as she handed him the basket of fresh
rolls. “A man couldn’t ask for anything finer than this.”

“It’s a particular pleasure to cook for folks who appreciate it,” Jerusalem replied
quietly. Then she looked directly into his eyes at close range. “But don’t think for
a minute that spreadin’ such honey will get ya ahead on the Scrabble board, Bishop.
I’ve never been one to
let
anybody win, ya see.”

“Oh, I see, all right, Jerusalem,” he countered, holding her gaze. “And if for one
moment I suspect you’re pandering to me, or distracting me with goodies or clever
table talk, I’ll show you no mercy.”

She tingled from the way he’d said that. It was an effort to concentrate on their
silent grace instead of letting her imagination gallop away with her. And what a joy
it was to watch Vernon and Tom slice off the first bites of their tender steaks and
then sigh with utter satisfaction as they chewed.

The meal progressed at a leisurely pace, seasoned with spirited conversation, yet
too soon it was over—most likely because they were all ready for the evening’s entertainment.
Again, Vernon and Tom broke with tradition by washing and drying the dishes so she
and Nazareth could put the kitchen to rights faster. Happy talk and laughter filled
the room even as the wind whistled outside and snow lodged in the corners of the windows.

“I’ll toss on a couple more logs,” Tom said. “Something tells me we’ll all stay up
a little later tonight.”

While Jerusalem and Nazareth arranged some cookies on a plate and poured the spiced
cider they’d been warming, Vernon laid out the Scrabble board. It was cozy with the
four of them at a card table instead of having nieces, nephews, and siblings crowding
around a bigger table. With the lamps glowing and the dictionary within reach, they
were finally ready to play.

No accident that the two men seated us across from them
, Jerusalem mused as she quickly chose her first seven letters.
And no surprise that Vernon’s long legs aren’t tucked beneath his own chair.

“I’ve got a six-letter word to start the game,” the bishop announced.

“Well, that’s just fine and dandy,” Jerusalem replied as she shuffled her tiles. “But
I can use all seven of my letters. Shall I proceed?”

Tom chuckled. “You’ve got me beat.”

“Take it away, Sister. Then I’ll play something extraordinary from whatever ya lay
down,” Nazareth remarked as she gazed at her letters. “No sense in letting these fellas
think they’ll ever have the upper hand.”

Jerusalem swiveled the Scrabble board on its lazy susan, considering where she could
play to best advantage. “It’s not much of a score, because all the letters I drew
are only worth a point apiece,” she murmured as she formed the word. “But it’ll light
a firecracker behind the horse, I think.”

Beside her, Nazareth gasped. “
Sensual
? We’re playin’ a respectable game here, Sister!”

As they all laughed, Jerusalem shrugged gleefully. “Just makin’ do. Takin’ double
the points for usin’ all my letters,” she added as she wrote her score on the scratch
pad.

“And it perfectly describes our evening,” Vernon observed. “We’ve tasted outstanding
food while savoring the feel of a fresh linen tablecloth and the sight of fine china
. . . we’re inhaling the scent of this spiced cider and hearing our laughter grow
louder by the minute. That kind of sensuality is indeed a gift from God as we enjoy
this wonderful life He’s provided us.”

“Amen to that, Vernon,” Tom replied.

As Nazareth laid down her tiles, Jerusalem sent Vernon an appreciative smile. He
had
noticed the trouble she’d taken with the table, and it touched her that he had woven
his compliments into such an insightful response, too . . . even as his lips twitched
with thoughts he wasn’t saying out loud.

“And who was saying we should keep things respectable ?” Tom teased, pointing at Nazareth’s
word. “Playin’
liquor
from Jerusalem’s L sorta tells us what’s on
your
mind, ain’t so, missy?”

“Or it might suggest what’s in this wonderful cider,” Vernon remarked as he drained
his cup. He reached behind him for the big ceramic teapot, then rose to pour more
of the hot drink for everyone.

Nazareth snickered. “You’re just wishin’
you’d
played the Q on a triple-letter space,” she replied saucily. “I’ve just scored thirty-five
points, Sister.”

“
Jah
, and you’d better cover your letters, too, because Vernon’s takin’ a peek at them
while he plays waiter.” Jerusalem placed her hand across her tiles, smiling up at
the white-haired man whose beard shimmied with his laughter. “You think I haven’t
tried that trick myself, Vernon?”

“I think you’ve tried every trick known to man, woman.”

Jerusalem nearly fainted. The bishop had a low, mellow voice and such a quick wit
with his words. But it was not so much what he said that affected her as the way he
said it. And while they weren’t in church, by any means, she had never expected to
hear a spiritual leader suggest such an . . . earthy topic. Her heart was fluttering
so hard she could barely breathe.

“Well, that explains why no man has been able to keep up with my sister, much less
catch her,” Nazareth remarked pertly. “Jerusalem won’t tell ya so herself, but she’s
been the sharpest pencil in the pack since we were wee girls.”

“No doubt in my mind about that.” Vernon made a point of looking into Jerusalem’s
eyes rather than at her letter tiles as he topped off her cider. “I believe Tom’s
fortunate to have women in his district who speak their mind with grace and intelligence,
rather than merely agreeing with whatever the men decide to do.”

Somehow Jerusalem resisted the urge to fan herself with her hand. By the time Vernon
sat down across the table from her, she could think straight again. She suddenly wondered,
had this little exchange been engineered to distract her from her game? Vernon, sly
fox that he was, had warned her about doing this very thing with goodies and clever
conversation, but she knew when she’d been bested. She studied her letters while Vernon
took his turn.

“
Request
,” the bishop said as he placed his letters around the Q Nazareth had played. Then
he looked purposefully across the table. “Jerusalem, I request the pleasure of your
company for a ride in my sleigh after we dig ourselves out tomorrow.”

Jerusalem’s hands flew to her face, which was growing quite warm. “I—well, it so happens
I love nothin’ better than glidin’ across snow-covered fields behind a fine horse,”
she replied in a tight voice. “I—I’ll join ya, for sure and for certain.”

Nazareth clapped her hands. “This is more fun than I’ve had in a long while, watching
my sister get all
ferhoodled
,” she laughed. “
Denki
for that, Vernon. You’ve made my day!”

The game progressed without any long pauses, for they were all adept players who suffered
no fools. Every now and again they passed the cookies, and it made Jerusalem’s heart
sing when their visitor from Cedar Creek tried every variety on the plate and declared
each cookie better than the one before. She reminded herself that in a day or two
Vernon would be going home . . . so she might be getting way ahead of herself, hoping
he would do more than talk a pretty line.

After all, Hiram had been a master at that. Especially when he wanted something.

Jerusalem let herself enjoy the game for what it was, a time for four folks in their
middle years to laugh and joke like kids . . . without family or neighborhood gossips
picking up on every juicy tidbit. And when had she ever been at a game table where
mostly innocent talk could be construed as innuendo?

When the last of the tiles had been taken, they all studied their remaining letters
and the spaces available to place them. In a burst of exhilaration, Nazareth played
smooch,
and then Vernon followed it with
kissing
, which used up all of his letters.

Tom looked at Jerusalem with a playful shrug. “
Gut
grief, how can we top those plays? We know what
they’re
thinkin’ about, ain’t so?”

“Thinkin’s one thing. Doin’s another,” Jersusalem quipped—and then she clapped her
hand over her mouth. “Didn’t mean for that to sound so brazen, Bishop. I’ve gotten
carried away with our fun—”

“What you said wasn’t the least bit out of line, dear Jerusalem.” Vernon resumed a
more serious demeanor, yet his voice remained low and calm. “Kissing has its time
and place—to everything there’s a season, after all. And as a man who’s been without
his wife for several years, I pray I still have a season or two of kissing to look
forward to. Life’s full of unexpected joy, and I try to live so I’m open to every
worthwhile surprise that comes my way.”

Jerusalem didn’t care to admit how many years had passed since she’d kissed a boy
or two, and at this glowing moment, that didn’t even matter. No one had ever made
her feel so special, so . . . sought after. For a moment they all sat silent, basking
in the low glow of the oil lamps and the popping of the fire that was dying down in
the stove.

“Well, here it is ten thirty,” Tom remarked as his mantel clock chimed the half-hour.
“Don’t think I’ve got another game in me this evening, but I can tell ya I’m goin’
up to bed with kissin’ on my mind.” As he smiled at Nazareth, she lowered her eyes
in modest delight.

“Tomorrow’s another day,” Vernon agreed as he rose from the card table. “And I, for
one, can’t wait to see how it unfolds.”

And wasn’t that a fine way to look at life? Jerusalem and Nazareth said their goodnights
and retired to the bedroom at the far end of the upstairs hallway, gripping each other’s
hands in their excitement.

“Well, what did ya think of
that
?” Nazareth whispered after they’d closed their door.

Jerusalem chuckled. “I think it’s been one of the brightest days in my life. And I
doubt I’ll get to sleep very fast, for thinkin’ back over everything we did and said.”