An Amish Country Christmas (28 page)

“
Jah
, that’s true. But if I’m finally gonna get a home of my own . . . I want it to feel
like my place, with my man,” she murmured. “Am I makin’ sense? Or did I throw a horse-apple
pie in Vernon’s face for selfish, petty reasons?”

Nazareth gazed at Jerusalem as though seeing her for the first time. “Ya know, I never
thought of it that way,” she finally admitted. “And I want ya to be happy, Sister.
I’ll stop gnawin’ on this bone now. I’ll let you and Vernon figure it out.”

Jerusalem grabbed her in a hug. “
Denki
for understandin’, Nazareth. I wish you and Tom all the best, too, ya know.”

For a moment they held each other, realizing how their lives would change momentously
when one or both of them married. Then Nazareth cleared her throat. “Looks like we’ve
got company. Better brace yourself for whatever Sarah and Lavinia have to say.”

Glancing out the window at the approaching rig, Jerusalem shrugged. “We’re just here
helpin’ Tom. What are they gonna do about that?” she asked. “It’s not like they’ve
come over to take down the greenery and candles they didn’t care enough to put out
for their
dat
.”

Chapter Fifteen

Nazareth squared her shoulders. Carefully, lovingly, she wrapped the old newspaper
pieces around the glass candle holders before packing them back into the box they’d
probably been stored in for twenty years. While she didn’t relish having words with
Tom’s daughters, Sarah and Lavinia were a part of his life, and they wouldn’t disappear
. . . the way his wife had. That thought made her determined to be a peacemaker, to
smooth the girls’ ruffled feathers for Tom’s sake. He didn’t let on, but he didn’t
like being at odds with his children. Even if he hadn’t become the new bishop of Willow
Ridge, concerned about living as an example to his district, he would want to be a
good
dat
. A loving father, the way God was.

At the bang of the back kitchen door, she exchanged a glance with her sister. Then
she stood tall, watching for the young women to enter the front room. A few moments
later she could hear cabinets and drawers being opened.

“It’s these dishes I’m wanting,” one of them said. “And the towels I embroidered for
Mamm’s birthday when I was thirteen.”

“And what about these
gut
tablecloths?” the other one asked. “And these bone china cups and saucers? Mamm told
us those were tucked away in her bride’s chest, so she surely intended for us to have
them.”

“
Jah
, it’s a sure thing Dat won’t be using them.”

“He’s probably forgotten she had them. And why should his
girlfriend
get them?”

When Nazareth saw sharp words puckering Jerusalem’s face, she signaled for silence
with a finger atop her lips. Apparently Tom’s daughters didn’t realize anyone was
in the house, and she could use that to her advantage. Very quietly Nazareth crossed
the front room, praying for God’s guidance. It wasn’t as if the girls were stealing,
but she thought Tom ought to know about their intentions.

When she got to the doorway, she leaned against it. Jerusalem remained a few steps
behind her, attuned to her thought process as she had always been, at home and in
the schoolrooms where they’d taught. “
Gut
morning, girls,” she said sweetly. “What a nice surprise, that you’ve come to see
your
dat
. Shall I fetch him from the barn?”

As Tom’s daughters whirled around, a glass pitcher flew from Sarah’s hands and shattered
on the floor. “
Ach
! We just stopped by to—”

“You’re still here, are you?” Lavinia challenged. “Now that Dat’s the bishop, I’d
think you would be more mindful of appearances than to—”

“And speakin’ of appearances,” came Tom’s voice from the mudroom. He stopped in the
doorway rather than dirty the kitchen floor with his wet, mucky boots. “It would appear
to
me
that ya came to ransack the place. Without so much as a how-do-ya-do for your
dat
. Do ya know how low that makes me feel? Your
mamm
raised ya better than that.”

While Nazareth’s heart ached for this man in his smeared barn coat and careworn stocking
cap, he was an answer to her prayers. Better for Tom to handle this situation. His
daughters would only resent her more if she presumed to put them in their place, in
the home where they had grown up.

Sarah clasped her hands in front of her. “We . . . well, now that Mamm’s passed, we
wanted a few of her things. To remember her by.”

“Girl things,” Lavinia clarified. “Dishes and what-not that don’t mean anything to
you.”

Tom’s eyebrows rose. “Ya think I see it that way? Ya think I don’t have some memories
worth hangin’ onto?”

The silence made Nazareth aware of how fast her pulse was pounding. This wasn’t a
place she enjoyed, being caught in the crossfire of hurt feelings. But these emotions
were going to boil over sooner or later, so it was best that they all address the
situation now, while everyone was in the same room.

Sarah bowed her head. “We didn’t mean to get grabby, or—”

“We didn’t figure your new
friend
—or whatever you call her—would want Mamm’s stuff, anyway,” Lavinia retorted.

“I call her
Nazareth
,” Tom replied in a low voice. Slowly, deliberately, he removed his stocking cap and
then hung his coat on the nearest wall peg. Bracing himself against the doorframe,
he carefully removed his boots so they would drip in the mudroom. “And if ya can’t
show Nazareth the respect she deserves, leave now. And don’t come back.”

Oh, but that statement made the whole house hold its breath. While Nazareth felt gratified
by Tom’s loyalty to her, it wasn’t a victory that would encourage his daughters to
befriend her. But it was his house. And she understood that he was drawing a line,
as far as what he would tolerate from his kids.

Sarah glanced at Nazareth and then murmured, “We should’ve asked you before we started
taking things from the cupboards. I’m sorry, Dat. Lavinia wanted to come—”

“
Me
?” her younger sister demanded. “You’re the one who started talking about all the
dinners we used to have, and the special dishes Mamm used then, and—”

“And I understand why ya feel that way,” Nazareth interrupted quietly. “When our
mamm
passed, the five of us girls each got to choose something we wanted from the house
before our oldest brother moved into it with his wife. To this day, I cherish her
sewing basket, thimbles, and the scissors she used to make our clothes.”

“And I got the clock our
dat
gave Mamm when they got engaged,” Jerusalem said reverently. “It’s been in every
bedroom I’ve slept in since she passed, even though I’ve moved hundreds of miles and
several times these past few months.”

Sarah smiled a little. Lavinia’s shoulders relaxed. They both sighed and looked at
their father again.

Tom cleared his throat. “What was it Jesus said? ‘Ask and you shall receive? Knock,
and the door shall be opened?’ ” he remarked. “And me, I’m just askin’ for a little
consideration. I hate to think that your resentment towards Naz . . . your grief over
your
mamm
’s passing, has driven ya to come bargin’ in like thieves.”

Sarah sighed. “
Jah
, we know better, Dat. I’m sorry for the way we’ve upset you.”

“Me, too,” Lavinia echoed. Then she cleared her throat. “May we please have a few
of our mother’s things?”

Tom looked around at the opened cabinets and drawers before letting his gaze settle
on Nazareth. “I’d be pleased if we could all have our dinner together, around this
table I gave your
mamm
when we married. And then, whatever either of ya cares to have, I’ll help ya pack
it up real
gut
so nothing breaks.”

“Anything?” Lavinia blurted. “As much as we want?”

Tom’s lips quirked. “That’s the offer,
jah
. If ya fill up your rig, or ya want furniture, we’ll load up my wagon. As many times
as it takes.”

“Oh, Dat,
denki
for understanding!” Lavinia grinned and then swiped at a tear.

“We really didn’t mean to come on like a couple of prickly pears,” Sarah said. Then
she gazed at Nazareth and held out her hand. “It’ll take us a while to get used to
somebody else living in this house with Dat, but . . . well, we hope you can be patient
with us, Nazareth.”

Nazareth’s heart slipped up into her throat as she gripped Sarah’s hand. “Patience
is somethin’ we can all use more of. We’ve all got changes to make and habits that’ll
take some gettin’ used to,” she murmured. “Jerusalem and I would be pleased to put
dinner on while you girls and your
dat
figure out what you’ll be takin’.”

“Something smells really
gut
,” Lavinia admitted with a grin. “For a minute I thought we must be in the wrong house,
finding fresh bread on the counter and a ham in the oven. It’s a relief to know Dat
doesn’t have to cook anymore.”

Tom laughed out loud. “I know what you’re really meanin’ to say, Vinny. You’re amazed
I haven’t burned down the house or gotten food poisoning.”

As the girls chuckled and turned back toward a cabinet they had opened, Tom stepped
over to slip his arm around Nazareth’s shoulders. “See there? You’re a lifesaver in
more ways than I can count, Naz,” he whispered. “
Denki
for takin’ this so well. I think we’re over the hump now.”

“I hope so,” she replied. As she steered him playfully into the front room to have
a word, Jerusalem took the hint and went to the oven to check the ham.

“Are ya really so ready to give up whatever your girls want to take, Tom?” Nazareth
asked quietly. “You have your memories, too. And if they clear out all your dishes,
or big pieces of furniture, or—”

He kissed her quickly. “It’s only
stuff
, Naz. If havin’ their
mamm
’s things makes them happy—makes them feel better about me gettin’ hitched again—they
can clean out the whole place.”

“
Jah
?” Nazareth considered this for a moment. “After the way your kids have acted, and
the way they’ve talked to ya recently, I’m a little surprised at your . . . generosity.”

Shrugging, he glanced into the kitchen. When he saw that everyone there was occupied,
he kissed her again. “Maybe a little bird’s been talkin’ to me. Maybe I have a houseful
of things I don’t really
see
anymore, and if I clear them away, why—you and I can pick out new pieces to start
our new life.”

Oh, but she knew that little bird’s name! Nazareth kept her remarks to herself, however,
because once again she was amazed at how the pieces of her future seemed to be falling
into place like a jigsaw puzzle . . . God’s plan working out even more beautifully
than she’d anticipated.

“You’re a wonderful-
gut
man, Tom. And I love ya,” she whispered.

“That’s what I’m livin’ for, Naz. You’re the best.”

Chapter Sixteen

“That went better than I expected,” Jerusalem remarked as she and her sister looked
out the window in the front room. Sarah and Lavinia’s rig was heading down the lane
ahead of Tom, who drove a wagonload of bedroom furniture and other pieces his daughters
wanted.

“
Jah
, I was glad to see the girls loosenin’ up, invitin’ their
dat
to supper for his efforts today,” Nazareth replied. “It means he’ll be gettin’ back
pretty late tonight, but I think he’s real pleased with how things turned out.”

“Could be one of the girls will ask him to stay over. Would be
gut
for the whole family to talk about Lettie’s passin’, without us around. And I don’t
think Tom sees as much of his grandkids as he’d like.” Jerusalem returned Tom’s wave
as he passed in front of the house, and then she turned to look around the front room.
“They left a few gaps along the walls, ain’t so?”

Nazareth chuckled. “The way Tom was talkin’, he’d have let them have it
all
—lock, stock, and barrel. Told me he was fine with gettin’ everything new, to start
fresh when I married him.”

“Not many fellas would agree to that. You’re a lucky woman, Sister.”

“
Jah
, and I know it, too.” She had a kitty-cat grin on her face, as though she knew something
and wasn’t about to share it, either.

This information put Jerusalem in a speculative mood: three days had gone by since
she’d told Vernon her concerns about his house being full of Dorothea’s things . .
. and maybe he’d decided he liked his life just as it was. If that was the way he
wanted it, well, God had figured that into His plan for her and she’d go right on
being a busy, useful woman, wouldn’t she?

“So, you’re sure about milkin’ the cows while Tom’s away?” she asked Nazareth as the
mantel clock chimed three times.

“I’m
gut
with it,
jah
! Ya should’ve seen me learning how to do that, while ya were at Vernon’s place.”
Nazareth’s grin showed her excitement about taking over Tom’s chores. “It’s been a
long time since you and I did the milkin’, and we only had the four cows back then.
Things are different when ya have to be ready for the truck to haul off all the milk.”

Jerusalem chuckled as they put on barn coats and stocking caps. Her sister looked
years younger and ever so happy . . . Jerusalem could only hope her own life would
take such a turn with Vernon. But it was up to him. She’d said her piece.

When the two of them stepped inside the dim barn, Jerusalem lit the lanterns while
Nazareth went to the stanchions to set up for milking the cows. Jerusalem headed back
to the corner where the goats were nestled in their straw, laughing when the four
of them hurried toward her with excited bleats.

Wasn’t it nice to know these dear creatures appreciated her? Jerusalem glanced over
her shoulder. “So once ya hitch up with Tom, what’s to happen with our little buddies
here?” she called out over the goats’ racket.

Nazareth’s eyebrows rose. “I hadn’t thought about that. Seems a shame to split them
up, especially since we’ve only got the one buck.”

Jerusalem gave in to Pearl and Bessie’s demand, briskly rubbing their foreheads with
her knuckles. “With three kids on the way, it might be best to wait and see what we
end up with. We’ll figure it out.”

She fetched a galvanized bucket and her little stool before tethering Pearl to begin
her milking. It was a soothing job, sitting close to the warm goat, hearing the rhythmic
splash of the milk as it hit the pail. By the time Jerusalem finished with Bessie
and Matilda, she had enough to make a batch of goat cheese, which Tom loved—as did
Vernon. Oh, how he’d raved over the grilled goat cheese sandwiches and macaroni and
cheese casserole they’d made during his visit.

Best to leave that subject alone. It’s his call as to how things go from here
, she reminded herself. She saw that Nazareth was doing nicely at handling the cows,
and because they were familiar with her sister, Jerusalem didn’t interrupt the flow
by offering to help.

“I’ll go in and put this milk on the stove. And I’ll start us some soup for supper,”
she called across the barn.

“Get the mail, why don’t ya? I suspect Tom forgot all about it, what with the girls
showin’ up.”

Jerusalem knuckle-rubbed the goats’ four heads one last time and then headed toward
the road. She lifted her face to the last rays of sunlight, invigorated by the chill
in the air . . . enjoying yet again the splendor of the surrounding pastureland blanketed
in pristine white snow. Vernon’s place looked pretty in the winter, too, with the
old white house, its stone chimney, and the sturdy red barns behind it. If nothing
else, she’d made some scenic memories while she’d visited Cedar Creek.

When she opened the mailbox, she gaped. The lone envelope was addressed to her—and
the familiar, precise handwriting made her heart skip into triple time. “Vernon,”
she whispered as she snatched up the letter.

As Jerusalem hurried toward the house, it was all she could do not to slosh the milk
from her pail. She stepped into the mudroom, set the bucket on the floor, and then
held the letter to her heart. Would this be the bishop’s farewell? Or had Vernon Gingerich
found a way to accommodate her concerns? She closed her eyes . . . took a couple of
deep breaths before carefully peeling away the envelope’s triangular flap.

Jerusalem laughed out loud. For sure and for certain, Ira and Luke would be teasing
her to high Heaven if they saw her face right now. She breathed easier and continued
reading.

Oh, but her pulse was pounding. Vernon was a kind and gentle man, but he didn’t say
things unless he sincerely meant them. He knew better than to pander to her, too.

Jerusalem paused, imagining how the picturesque old Gingerich home would look with
a second extension, probably on the opposite end from where Abner and the aunts lived.
Truth be told, she had thought their wing looked . . . patched on. Another extension
would only detract further from the overall appearance of the place. But wasn’t it
wonderful that Vernon would add on rooms just for the two of them?

Oh, how her pulse raced—but her curiosity ran faster. The milk would be fine in the
mudroom for a while longer, so she hurried outside again. Tom had a phone in the barn,
for reaching his milk truck driver, and wasn’t this a situation of appropriate magnitude
to warrant its use? After all, her very future had been dangled before her like a
carrot in front of the proverbial donkey. Who was she to keep the bishop of Cedar
Creek waiting?

“What’s happened, Sister?” Nazareth called as she was leaving the barn. “Ya look like
there’s an emergency—or a fire!”

“Ya might say that,
jah
. Didn’t get our soup started. Sorry!”

Jerusalem felt anything but sorry, however. She said a prayer of gratitude that Nazareth
was heading for the house, still smiling as though she
knew
things. Once inside the barn, Jerusalem lit the lantern again and lifted the receiver
of the old rotary phone. Vernon, too, had a phone in his barn, to help with Abner’s
butchering business and to keep in touch with his preachers and church members . .
. but what if he wasn’t there? Or what if Abner answered? She couldn’t blurt her questions
into the answering machine—

But her fingers had already dialed the numbers. Vernon’s phone was ringing . . . ringing
. . .

“Good afternoon. You’ve reached Gingerich Custom Butchering. This is Vernon.”

Jerusalem’s words stuck in her throat. Was this a recording, or—but it had to be Vernon,
talking directly to her, didn’t it? She had already forgotten how low and melodic
the bishop’s voice was, and it made something flutter deep down inside her. “Uh—”

“Hello? Can you hear me?”

“
Jah
! Vernon, it’s—

“Jerusalem! It’s wonderful to hear your voice again, dear heart.” He let out a sigh
that sounded satisfied without being smug. “You’ve received my letter, I take it?”

“
Jah
, and—well, what on Earth will ya do with all those perty pieces ya made for Dorothea,
if ya empty out your house?” she said in a rush. “It wasn’t my intention for ya to
throw away such wonderful-
gut
work, when—”

“Nothing will be destroyed or wasted, my dear. It’s not the Plain way to dispose of
perfectly serviceable items.”

“
Serviceable
? Those hutches and tables and such are too beautiful to be cast aside,” she protested.
“If that’s what’s to happen to them—”

“Relax, sweetheart. Take a deep breath.”

Jerusalem exhaled. Vernon wasn’t laughing at her, exactly, but he was clearly enjoying
the state she had whipped herself into. She managed a chuckle. “Guess I got a little
excited there.”

“And I love to excite you, Jerusalem. I hope to do much more of that, in time,” he
remarked with a low laugh. Then he cleared his throat. “There’s an auction every spring
to benefit the local school. I would like to believe Dorothea’s pieces would bring
in a fair amount of cash for such a good cause. And because you’ve been a schoolteacher,
I thought you might appreciate that suggestion.”

Her jaw dropped. “Oh, Vernon. That’s a wonderful-
gut
idea, but I can’t think you’d do all of this for . . . for
me
.”

His sigh sounded a bit nostalgic. “Actually, I believe Dorothea herself inspired me.
She was a schoolteacher when I met her, you see, and up until the time when she became
too ill, she was involved with the school’s Christmas programs and their picnics and
the fundraising events,” he explained. “In her quiet way, my wife was every bit as
persuasive and influential as you are, Jerusalem.”

“Oh, my. What a lovely thing to say, Vernon,” she replied. She could hardly breathe,
for hanging on to the thrilling timbre of his voice . . .

“And I meant every word. You believe that, don’t you?”

She let out the breath she’d been holding. “You’re not a fella who talks just to hear
himself, or to lead folks along for his own benefit.”

“Thank you. Coming from you, that’s a high compliment.”

Jerusalem paused. So many ideas and emotions were whirling in her head . . . in her
heart. There was no doubt in her mind that Vernon’s handcrafted furniture would bring
top dollar, and he’d made so many pieces over the years that the auctioneer could
practically devote an entire sale to the bishop’s handiwork.

“Are you still there? You’ve become very quiet.”

She let out a laugh. “I think I’m speechless.
That
doesn’t happen often.”

Vernon’s laughter made her heart take wing. Wasn’t it a fine feeling, to have a man
talking with her this way, willing to give up so much for the sake of her happiness?

“As I said in my letter, I’m making you another, larger piece even if you decide becoming
my wife isn’t what God wants for you.”

“Puh! You bein’ a bishop and all, why would God pay more mind to
my
way of thinkin’ than to yours?”

“Because you’re His child and He loves you, Jerusalem. And I love you, too. With all
my heart.”

A little “
oh
” escaped her. Just that easily, he’d told her he loved her . . . and never in her
life had a fellow said that. Tears ran down her cheeks. Oh, but she could indeed believe
that God loved her very, very much if He had led her to this eloquent, decent man.
“I . . . I’m tryin’ to take all this in,” she rasped. “Ya must think I’m a dunderhead,
not to—”

“I’m gratified that you will consider my ideas,” he replied quietly. “And I don’t
want you to feel obligated to repeat those three little words just because I said
them to you, Jerusalem. They’re not to be taken lightly.”