Christmas at Promise Lodge (17 page)

Chapter Nineteen

“What's your plan for happiness today?” Rosetta asked. She stood beside Mattie at the kitchen counter mixing apple chunks, grapes, and walnut pieces into their favorite salad for Thanksgiving dinner. “In a few minutes, Roman and Noah will be bringing Amos over. I know you'll be polite, of course, but I suspect it'll be a little tricky to have him here for most of the day.”

Mattie shrugged. “Everyone who lives in Promise Lodge will be here,” she pointed out. “It's a fine idea for all of us to celebrate Thanksgiving together rather than in our separate homes. I don't dislike Amos, you know,” she said softly. “I've simply chosen to honor his wishes by staying out of his home. Out of his life.”

Rosetta smiled knowingly. “From what Ruby tells me, he's not been keeping himself up—and he's been really moody when they've gone over to clean. Maybe he'll see how well you're doing and realize what a mistake he's made.”

“And maybe, what with the curtains all closed, it'll be so dim he won't see me at all,” Mattie teased. Perhaps a change of subject was in order. She didn't think there was anything left to say about the relationship that had ended a week ago today. “I'm pleased the Kuhns went back to their brother's place for a few days, but it'll be different, not having them here for dinner with us.”

“I'm glad Lester went back home to his family in Ohio, too,” Rosetta said. “His wife surely must've missed him while he was helping Floyd establish their siding business here.”

“She and the kids have a nice new home to move into, though,” Christine chimed in as she slipped her hands into oven mitts. “And they've got time between now and next spring to sell their place in Sugarcreek.”

“I suspect Frances and the girls will really miss having Lester around,” Mattie added. “Lester's
gut
at keeping Floyd busy at things—focused, instead of wandering aimlessly from one activity to the next. Every time I see the bishop, I think he's slipping further away from us.”

“Beulah thinks Amos has also slipped a notch or two, as far as being the fellow whose company we all enjoyed so much,” Christine said. She opened one of the ovens to check the three big hens she was roasting. “When I was cleaning his place, I told him he needs to get out amongst folks—needs to get busy at something—but Amos said his headaches are so bothersome he can't focus long enough to finish anything, or even to read.”

Mattie nodded. “Dr. Townsend said he might have a short attention span until his concussion has healed.”

“Truman was none too pleased when Amos refused to go for his appointment yesterday,” Rosetta said with a shake of her head.

Mattie sighed. She'd never figured Amos Troyer for a man who'd give up so quickly, or who would allow his health to deteriorate . . . the way Marvin had when he'd ignored his diabetes. Maybe Amos had done her a favor, after all, when he'd called off the wedding. “Did anything ever come of the idea for building Amos a ramp and a woodworking shop?” she asked. “He needs something to do. Needs a way to be more independent if he's going to be stuck in that wheelchair for any length of time.”

“You're exactly right,” Christine said. “He's never been one for sitting around.”

Rosetta shrugged, appearing rueful. “Truman's told me Amos turned down the ramp and shop offer flatter than a pancake,” she murmured. “Amos seems to be sinking deeper into depression, even though the doctor gave him some pills to help. I never figured Amos for a quitter.”

“I'll check the venison roasts,” Mattie said. She was more concerned about Amos's well-being than she cared to admit to her sisters, but she'd done as he'd asked. She hadn't become his caretaker. As the aroma of the carrots, onions, and meat wafted around her, Mattie couldn't help recalling how Amos enjoyed the way she prepared venison with vegetables.

“Is it time to cut the pies? We've got the tables all set,” Phoebe said eagerly. “The Kurtzes are coming down the hill—”

“And the Peterscheims are on the way, too—and of course the boys are running ahead and throwing snowballs at each other and Queenie,” Laura put in as she glanced out the window.

“Hah! We'd better stick these fried pies in the pantry if we're to have any left for later this afternoon,” Rosetta teased as she grabbed the container they were in. “Lavern, Johnny, and Menno eat more than any six men. Makes me wonder how Alma keeps any food in the house.”

Mattie glanced out the other kitchen window, wondering who'd gone to help Roman with Amos and how they were going to get him here with his wheelchair. When a big pickup rumbled up the road, she had her answer. “I'm certainly thankful for Truman,” she murmured. “Think of all the times he and his truck have come to our rescue lately.”

Rosetta stepped up beside Mattie at the window, watching as Roman rolled Amos out onto his porch. The two younger men joined hands and made a chair for Amos, with arms behind his back and under his backside. “
Jah
, he has,” she murmured. “And yet Truman's considered joining the Amish Church, selling his truck and his motorized equipment to the fellows on his landscaping crew—”

“No! Really?” Mattie gazed into Rosetta's deep brown eyes. “I thought he had serious objections to some of our ways.”

Her younger sister shrugged. “We're trying to find an honorable solution. Bishop Floyd's bluster doesn't change the way we feel about each other.”

“Glad to hear that! Don't give up on such a
gut
man,” Mattie said, hugging Rosetta's shoulders. When the front door opened and voices filled the lobby, they went to welcome the Kurtzes. Minerva was carrying a large lidded pan, and Harley followed her into the kitchen with jugs of cider.

“I think we've got enough mashed potatoes to feed the five thousand,” Minerva teased. “Which oven shall I put them in to keep them warm?”

“And we've got candied yams, too!” Deborah said as Noah followed her into the kitchen carrying a large glass casserole dish. “Someone we know says it wouldn't be Thanksgiving dinner without them.”

“That would be my younger son,” Mattie teased as she hugged the newlyweds. “Roman won't give you two cents for sweet potatoes with syrup and marshmallows all over them.”

Coming in behind them, Irene Wickey smiled and greeted everyone. “I figured some pumpkin crunch would be a
gut
choice,” she said as she handed the pan to Rosetta. “All the flavor of a pumpkin pie—”

“But you don't have to make a crust!” Rosetta teased. “We'll let one of the girls cut this—and I'll take your coat for you. We're so glad you and Truman have joined us today.”

As the women brought their food into the kitchen and the men congregated in the dining room to chat, Mattie became immersed in the details of getting their big meal ready to serve. It was such a blessing that Mary Kate looked perkier today, and that she and Gloria worked as a contented team, filling water glasses and pouring milk for the kids. As the venison and roasted hens were carved and bowls were filled with potatoes, gravy, stuffing, and other favorite dishes, Lily, Fannie, Laura, and Phoebe carried the hot food to the tables—and kept the younger boys from roughhousing in the dining room as they awaited the meal.

At last everyone sat down at the two long tables that had been placed end to end. Mattie noticed that Floyd was seated at one end, with Frances and Mary Kate on either side of him to help him eat. It bothered Mattie to look at their bishop for very long, because the left side of his face was still sagging and he appeared very withdrawn. He was a far cry from the man who'd come here to set the folks of Promise Lodge on the proper path to salvation. As she gazed along the other side of the table, taking in her sisters and the friends who were bowing their heads, she saw that Amos sat at the other end in his wheelchair, between Roman and Truman.

Mattie gasped. Amos needed a haircut, and he sat bent over—
and he looks about a hundred years old
, she thought as she quickly closed her eyes to join in the silent prayer. How had he gone so far downhill in only a week? Was Amos becoming physically incapacitated, or had he given up?

Looks like Amos needs the kind of help only You can give him, Lord
, Mattie prayed fervently. She blinked repeatedly, determined not to cry. While it wasn't her fault that she and Amos had separated, she wondered if she should've defied his wishes and kept on helping with his housework—

“Mattie? Would you like some of this fabulous chicken?”

Mattie opened her eyes to see Preacher Marlin patiently holding the platter for her. Had she been so immersed in praying for Amos that she hadn't realized when everyone else had begun to pass the food?

“
Denki
, Marlin,” she murmured, choosing a golden, crispy thigh. “Rosetta picked out the largest of her hens, and they've roasted up nicely, haven't they?”

Marlin smiled. “One of the things I'm most thankful for today is that my family came here to join you three sisters,” he said as he held her gaze. “You all contribute so much to this new colony. It was a wonderful idea to have everyone gather together today for our first Thanksgiving at Promise Lodge.”

“Like the Pilgrims we've been studying, right, Teacher Minerva?” Johnny piped up.

“Except without the funny hats,” Lowell added.

As folks around her chuckled, Mattie passed the platter of chicken to Alma. Was it her imagination, or had Marlin just paid her a special compliment? She'd always found him to be a pleasant fellow, but he'd rarely singled her out for conversation . . . and she'd just realized that he'd chosen to sit beside her at the center of the table rather than in the midst of the men. The food was all being passed in the same direction, so each time a bowl or platter came to him, Marlin held it for her so she could help herself before he took his portion.

“I suppose this acorn squash came out of your garden? And the sweet potatoes and lima beans?” he asked as he glanced at the bowls of vegetables making their way around the table.

Mattie focused on the creamy white mashed potatoes she was spooning onto her plate. “If you count the fact that my Noah shot the deer, nearly everything we're serving today was grown here at Promise Lodge,
jah
,” she replied. “We didn't make the flour in the bread, but all the milk and cheese and honey was also produced here.”

“Pretty amazing, considering you and your sisters didn't move here until this past spring,” Marlin remarked. “Many of our Plain neighbors in Iowa weren't nearly so self-sufficient.”

Mattie was wondering why that would be so, because the Amish families she knew had always raised most of their food. She blinked, realizing she'd been holding the other side of the mashed potato bowl while Marlin had been talking with her—and observing her with a soulful brown-eyed gaze that lingered longer than usual.

“How about some cranberries, Marlin?” Noah asked from the preacher's other side.

Mattie quickly passed the mashed potatoes, wondering if anyone else had noticed their private pause. She made a point of helping herself more quickly, to keep the food moving—so much food they had!

“Maybe you should've set two plates at each place,” Marlin remarked as he shook his head. “I've run out of room, and not nearly all the bowls have been around yet.”

“Truly a cornucopia of flavors and textures,” Irene said from across the table. “I can't recall the last time I sat at a table so loaded with deliciousness!”

“And we've not even put out the desserts yet,” Mattie said, happy for a diversionary topic of conversation. “I'm looking forward to some of your pumpkin crunch.”

“That's always been one of Truman's favorites,” Irene replied, smiling at her son. “And my favorite is whatever somebody else has cooked!”

The women sitting nearby laughed and agreed. When all the food had been passed at last, Mattie was grateful for a chance to eat so many special dishes in the company of so many dear friends. She hoped that Ruby and Beulah were enjoying their visit with their brother's family, and she sent them a silent thank-you for suggesting that Promise Lodge residents should celebrate their first Thanksgiving together. It gave them all a chance to catch up with Amos and Bishop Floyd—and it seemed Marlin Kurtz was taking the opportunity to catch up with
her
.

When Mattie noticed that Marlin was smiling at her again—and that other folks seemed to be noticing—she quickly chose a topic of conversation that everyone might join in. Was it her imagination, or did the room's dimness encourage Marlin to cozy up to her? With so many folks seated close together around the table, Mattie could feel the brush of his knee against hers every now and then.

“Is your barrel shop up and running full-tilt now?” Mattie asked. “What sorts of things do you make there, Marlin?”

“I'm off to a
gut
start, in a shop that's bigger than I had before,” he replied as he split a roll and smeared cranberry sauce on it. “Right now it seems rain barrels are all the rage, and I'm getting more orders than I can fill—to the point I may need to hire somebody besides Harley to help me. My newest model has a hand pump in the lid so you can fill buckets for watering your flowers—”

“And we make cool barrels with checkerboards on the top,” his son Lowell piped up. “The mercantile at Forest Grove just ordered a whole bunch of those!”

“I really like your tables made from a half barrel with a nice round wooden top,” Minerva said from across the table. “Not only are they pretty, but when you lift the top, you can store stuff inside the barrel base.”