Christmas at Promise Lodge (15 page)

Mattie nodded. “You're all right,” she murmured. Then she paused to savor the rich sweetness of the muffin drenched in warm chocolate gravy. “Dr. Townsend authorized some physical therapy sessions—but not until Amos's concussion improves. I think that's part of his problem, too. Amos isn't used to sitting. Or
waiting
.”

“I've always considered Amos a very patient man,” Beulah mused aloud, “but then, his life was going just fine until he fell off the roof.”

For a few moments, the women stopped talking as they enjoyed their food. Mattie watched them close their eyes and sigh with contentment, realizing how grateful she was to be surrounded by so much compassion, so much love. It wasn't the same happiness she'd feel if she were getting married on Saturday, but it was a gratifying peacefulness that came from knowing these women would do everything in their power to make her feel loved and appreciated.

“I hear Frances might be in need of some cheering up—and assistance—as well,” Christine said. She plucked a couple of apple slices from Laura's plate and dragged them through the chocolate gravy on her plate. “It sounds as if Floyd is still in much worse shape than Amos, even though he's getting therapy at home. Gloria has told me he stumbles a lot, even with a cane, because his left leg is so unpredictable,” she said with a shake of her head. “He can't always keep his food in his mouth while he's chewing, and they have to be careful that he doesn't choke because the stroke affected his ability to swallow.”

“We have to wonder if Floyd would be farther along the road to recovery had he stayed in a dark room like he was supposed to,” Mattie murmured.

“Or if he'd have stayed in the hospital that first time instead of being in such a hurry to get home. He hasn't been himself since Amos fell on him.” Rosetta took a bite and moaned softly. “Now
this
is heavenly—goat cheese spread on a pumpkin muffin with chocolate gravy spread on it!”

“Oh, I'm going to try that!” Phoebe said. She smiled at everyone around their cozy circle. “You know, we really should do this pajama party thing more often. What with winter nearly here, who will care that we're not dressed in the evenings? It gets dark by five o'clock.”

“What if we started a crochet club to pass these longer evenings?” Ruby suggested. “Our Mennonite fellowship is big on making blankets and stocking caps and such for homeless folks.”

“We could call it the PPCC—the Pajama Party Crochet Club!” Laura said with a chuckle. “I like it! I have a big bag of yarn stashed in my closet, too.”

“We left our yarn for our nieces in Versailles,” Beulah said, “but I noticed the mercantile in Forest Grove has quite a nice display of yarn and fabrics and such. Maybe we need to make a trip into town when the roads are clear.”

“I want to make an afghan for Preacher Amos,” Laura declared. “Maybe if he wrapped himself up in a snugly blanket, he'd be in a better mood.”

“And I want to make one for Bishop Floyd,” Phoebe said without missing a beat. “And what about Mary Kate? And her baby? They'll be needing little blankets and booties and caps—”

“Now you're talking!” Rosetta said. “We can plan some happiness for all of these folks. And it'll make the long winter evenings a lot more fun.”

Mattie found herself smiling, feeling purposeful again. “You ladies are
gut
medicine,” she said as she gazed at each of them. “You've helped me remember that so many folks have a lot more reasons to feel blue than I do—and you've given me something to look forward to. A crochet club wouldn't have interested me if I were getting married on Saturday.”

Christine chuckled. “It's just my guess, but I predict you and Amos will get together again. Once he gets past this rough spot in the road—once we find a way to get him motivated, doing something he can handle while he's in his wheelchair—I suspect he'll realize he made a big mistake, calling off the wedding. He's loved you nearly all his life, Mattie. And he hasn't really stopped loving you. He's just gotten sidetracked.”

“
Jah
, I think our patience and prayers—and an afghan and some warm food now and again—will go a long way toward helping Amos recover,” Ruby said. “Once the doctor says he can come out of the dark, I'm thinking the Amos we know and love will figure out a way to get up and get moving again—or he'll figure out what to do with himself if he can't build houses anymore.”

Mattie smiled, feeling much better as she and her sisters and friends chatted while they ate.
“For where two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them.”

Jesus's words rang true. These women of faith had put together a party to lift her spirits, and Mattie felt the Lord was very much among them as they talked of ways to help Amos and the bishop and Mary Kate. She could move forward now, secure in her life no matter what Amos had decided about marrying her. After all, she'd gotten the idea to move to Promise Lodge when she'd been a woman alone.

Chapter Seventeen

After he finished the milking early on Sunday morning, Roman headed down the snow-packed road, back to Amos's place. The rising sun made tiny diamonds sparkle on the five inches of snow that had fallen in the night, adding a layer of crisp freshness to the lawns and hillsides of Promise Lodge. As Roman passed his new house, he sighed. Lester had installed his windows and siding, the other men had put in his kitchen appliances, and the girls had painted all of his rooms, so the place was finished enough to live in. Roman really wanted to settle into his house, but he also understood that Amos needed help—assistance he was either too proud or too depressed to ask for—so he planned to stay in the preacher's spare bedroom until Amos's health improved.

“
Gut
morning, Amos! You up yet?” Roman called out as he entered the front room. In the kitchen, he filled the percolator with water and coffee and put it on the stove. When Roman paused in the doorway of the dark bedroom, he saw that the preacher had maneuvered himself out of bed and into his wheelchair, but he was still in his long johns.

“No church today,” Roman pointed out, “so what're you going to wear? It's a
gut
day for a heavy shirt, or maybe a sweater, chilly as it is.”

“It'll take a lot more than a shirt and sweater to make me feel warm again,” Amos groused. “What's clean? That'll make the decision easy for me, won't it?”

Roman bit back a remark about the preacher's irritable mood, because pointing it out would only make Amos grouchier. “Do you want me to do your laundry tomorrow?” he asked as he went to the nearly empty closet. “I've heard Beulah, Christine, and Mamm have offered to wash your clothes, but you've not allowed them to.”

“Hate to be a bother.”

Roman shrugged, choosing a flannel shirt of deep green. “So run the washer from your wheelchair. Could you do that?”

Amos let out a humorless laugh. “I'm not supposed to leave this cave, remember? The doctor has turned me into a mole, and I'll soon be as white as an albino from lack of sunlight.”

“So I'll close the curtains in the rest of your house,” Roman challenged. “The doctor didn't limit you to staying in one room. You're only to avoid bright light.”

Amos glared at him. “What
gut
would that do? It's not like I can reach the stove—”

“Fine. Put this on.” Roman took the shirt from its hanger, deciding it was time for a change of topic. “I've got a favor to ask, Amos. Would it be all right if I cleaned up your sleigh and took it out for a spin? We've got enough snow on the ground for some nice riding now.”

“We do?” Amos murmured ruefully. “I—I really feel out of touch. What day is it?”

“Sunday, the twenty-second of November.”

“Oh.” Amos put the shirt on over the long johns he'd slept in, shaking his head. “I missed your
mamm
's birthday yesterday . . . not to mention the wedding. How's she doing with that?”

Roman considered his answer. Should he tell Amos about the hen party the ladies had held the night he jilted Mamm? Or make the preacher feel guilty about breaking her heart? “She and the other gals went into Forest Grove yesterday to shop for yarn and fabric,” he hedged. “Phoebe and Laura are all excited about the crochet club they've started. They're going to make blankets and booties for Mary Kate's baby, and afghans for folks who need them. It's a mission project to occupy the cold winter evenings.”

Amos grunted. “They might as well crochet. It's not like they've got husbands to look after.”

As Roman opened the dresser drawer, looking for clean pants, he frowned. It seemed that no matter what he said this morning, Amos was taking exception to it. “At least they're busy and happy, doing something useful,” Roman pointed out. “Maybe I should wheel you over there so you could learn to crochet. It would be an improvement over how you've been spending your time alone, ain't so?”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Roman knew he'd been impolite. But maybe he'd made a point. Maybe Amos would take the hint.

With a heavy sigh, the preacher bowed his head. “They wouldn't let me join them—and I can't say as I'd blame them, either. I apologize for my cranky attitude, son. And I'd be delighted if you'd take that sleigh out and enjoy it,” Amos went on in a lighter voice. “Hitch Mabel up to it, would you? She loves the snow and she probably wonders why I've not been getting her out for some exercise.”

“I'll do that,
jah
.
Denki
, Amos.” Roman flashed him a smile. “If you don't think you'll be needing anything after breakfast, I'll go over to the Lehmans' and help with the chores—and ask Mary Kate if she'll ride along with me. Unless you think the sleigh might need some repairs.”

“No, no—the sleigh'll have some dust on it, but it's plenty sturdy. Nothing like the roof that gave way under me.” Amos pulled his pants over his legs, allowed Roman to help him stand, and then got his pants fastened. “Seems to me Gloria's the girl who's trying to look after you, Roman. What'll she say when you take her sister sleigh-riding instead?”

Roman shrugged, although he'd been thinking about this very situation. “I'm going to have to say it straight out, and tell Gloria I'm not interested in dating her. Never have been.”

“
Jah
, that's what you have to do with women sometimes—tell them how it's going to be, if they can't see reality for themselves.” Amos sat back down in his wheelchair with a sigh. “That's why I broke up with your mother. I really didn't want to, Roman, but I couldn't shackle her to a man who'll need so much care, maybe forever. It was in Mattie's best interest. For her own
gut
.”

Roman didn't reply. Did Amos truly believe he'd done himself or Mamm any favors by calling off the wedding? From what Roman had observed, his mother was moving beyond her broken engagement a lot faster than Amos was—but he suspected a part of her would always be disappointed.

And Gloria's going to be mighty disappointed when you tell her you're not interested in her
, Roman thought as he strode up the road to the Lehman place after breakfast.
How will you handle her reaction ? It won't be pretty . . .

* * *

Mary Kate lolled in the recliner, tilted all the way back, feeling very bulky and uncomfortable. Her legs were swollen, she was exhausted from not sleeping well for the past few weeks—and she was ready to deliver the baby and be done with this discomfort. Minerva had checked her over a couple of days ago and was predicting an early December birth, but Mary Kate wasn't sure how she could possibly endure this pregnancy for another week or more.

It didn't help that her
dat
had hobbled into the front room to stare at her. He pointed to her belly and tried to say something—spoke very slowly and with great deliberation—but Mary Kate couldn't understand a word he said. It bothered her to look at him, because one side of his face hung slack and motionless while the other side displayed his agitation at not being able to speak clearly.

“I'm all right, Dat,” she assured him. “Just feeling as big as a house. Wishing this baby could be born
right now
.”

The eyebrow above Dat's good eye rose as he waved her off. When they heard loud knocks on the door, he went to answer it, rocking unsteadily from side to side as his cane tapped the hardwood floor. Mary Kate prayed he wouldn't stumble and fall again, as he had last night. She hoped Mamm would steer their visitor into the kitchen rather than into the front room, where she was sprawled in the recliner, looking as though she'd swallowed a beach ball.

When Mary Kate heard Roman's voice, she groaned. Even though she enjoyed his company a lot, she really didn't want him to see her this way.

“I've finished your barn chores,” Roman was saying, “and I found a shovel and cleared your walk and your porch steps. What else can I do for you while I'm here?”

“
Denki
so much, Roman,” Mamm said. “We appreciate it, especially because you're helping out over at Amos's place, too.”

“Oh, Roman, that's so
sweet
of you to do those chores for us again,” Gloria gushed.

Mary Kate closed her eyes, trying not to imagine the cloying expression on her sister's face. Sensing he might come into the front room, she pulled the afghan on her lap up higher, to camouflage the bulge of her belly—but now her midsection resembled a beach ball with a ripple-striped sweater stretched over it. She struggled to raise the chair back into a sitting position, but either her arm muscles had degenerated into wet noodles or the chair's mechanism was broken.

“It's
gut
to see you, Mary Kate,” Roman murmured as he approached her chair. “Let me help you. You're at an awkward angle to be—”

“Everything about me feels a lot more than
awkward
,” she muttered. “And I don't think I have a single angle left. I'm all bulges and curves and—”

“This, too, shall pass, sweetie.” Roman smiled at her as he righted the recliner and then stood beside her. “They tell me you forget all about this discomfort once you're holding your baby. But truth be told, I think you're beautiful.”

Mary Kate was ready to protest, but she saw Gloria coming into the front room—probably to horn in on her conversation with Roman. “You're very kind,” she whispered. “Minerva says it'll be another week or so. She thinks I'm doing very well.”

“That's what we like to hear.” Roman's face lit up and he leaned closer. “What would you think of joining me for a sleigh ride, Mary Kate? Amos has a wonderful old sleigh in the shed, and he says I can hitch it to his mare—”

“A sleigh ride! Oh, Roman, I'd love to go!” Gloria said. She hurried around to the other side of the recliner, where she could look directly at Roman. “Mary Kate's been lying around feeling fat and cranky all day, so I doubt she'll be up to going, but I—”

“Gloria, with all due respect,” Roman said in a low, firm tone, “I invited Mary Kate to go with me. She can answer for herself.”

Mary Kate's heart thudded in her chest. Her sister looked stunned—and then incredulous.

“You can't really want to spend your time with Mary Kate,” Gloria protested. “Why, in another week or so she'll have a baby to tend and—and she won't have time to—”

“I'm fully aware of that, Gloria,” Roman continued in that same purposeful voice. He straightened to his full height, looking directly at Gloria as she began to clasp and unclasp her hands. “I appreciate your interest in me,” he murmured gently, “but I don't want to date you, Gloria.”

Mary Kate braced herself. Her older sister's expression was undergoing one change after another, displaying surprise, then outrage, disbelief, and mortification. Gloria suddenly reached across the recliner to give Roman's cheek a resounding slap.

“Gloria Margaret Lehman!” Mamm called from the kitchen. “That was uncalled for. You're to apologize to Roman—and your sister—this instant!”

But Gloria was already hurrying upstairs. The sound of her crying echoed in the stairway, followed by the heavy tattoo of her footsteps in the upstairs hallway and the
bang!
of her bedroom door.

“Sorry,” Roman murmured.

Mary Kate fought a smile. It was wrong to enjoy her sister's hissy fit, but she was feeling a whole lot better than she had a few moments ago. “Did she draw blood?” she murmured. “A few times when we were kids, Gloria put some fingernail into it when she slapped me.”

Roman chuckled. “Well, I probably deserved that slap,” he said as he rubbed his stinging cheek, “but I said what I had to say. I'm not interested in your sister, and I've never liked the way she puts you down, Mary Kate.”

Mamm was hurrying up to them, wringing her dish towel between her hands as Dat hobbled awkwardly behind her. “Roman, I'm so sorry Gloria struck you,” she said as she studied his cheek. “Envy's not a pretty emotion, and my daughter doesn't handle it well.”

Dat appeared very agitated, as well. He glanced from Roman to Mary Kate and back to Roman, expressing his dismay with a one-sided shrug and a stiff shake of his head. Dat pointed toward the stairway, as though to say that either he or Mamm ought to go upstairs and give Gloria a talking-to.

“Let's leave Gloria be for now, Floyd,” Mamm said. “And let's you and I sit in the kitchen so the kids can have some time without us gawking at them. I'll make us some cocoa. Come on, now.”

Mary Kate's heart swelled with gratitude to her mother. Did Roman really believe she was beautiful? Or was he just saying that to be nice?

“A sleigh ride sounds like fun. And it's so pretty outside, with all the fresh snow,” Mary Kate murmured. When she dared to reach toward Roman, he gently held her hand between his two much larger, stronger ones. “Soon enough, I probably won't be able to go—”

“I'll take you anytime you want, Mary Kate. We can wrap the baby in blankets and take off across the hills.”

What a picture he painted. Mary Kate badly wanted to believe his interest in her would continue while she was confined to the house with her newborn baby, but for now she didn't concern herself with the future. She smiled up at Roman. “If you can give me a few minutes to dress more warmly—”