Christmas at Promise Lodge (27 page)

Marlin glanced at Amos and Eli. “I've got nothing to ask that anybody else in this room shouldn't hear the answer to,” he remarked with a shrug.

“Me neither,” Eli said. “Folks are naturally curious about anybody who wants to come here, and when he's a bishop, well—we've got our reasons for asking some important questions.”

“
Jah
—so will you be bringing your family with you?” Christine put in quickly.

Amos had to smile even though he suspected his line of questioning had already been derailed. He couldn't miss the way Mattie's sister was gazing up at Burkholder with hopeful awe on her face. Monroe's smile made his dimples deepen as he responded to her.

“My dear wife, Linda, God rest her soul, passed on last year about this time,” the bishop replied in a subdued voice.

“Oh, I'm so sorry,” Mattie murmured. “Always harder to lose folks you love during the holidays.”

“
Denki
for understanding,” Monroe said, his gaze never leaving Christine. “Linda and I weren't blessed with any children, and I lost my parents when I was very young. House fire.”

“Oh my,” Minerva whispered. “Who raised you?”

“My
dat
's brother and his wife took me in,” Burkholder replied. “And I was very blessed that Uncle Herman taught me all he knew about horses—and that Aunt Lena convinced me to join the Old Order when I was seventeen. They gave me a
gut
, solid foundation for leading a responsible life.”

“What sort of trade are you in?” Eli asked. “Or do you run a shop?”

Burkholder smiled. “I breed and train draft horses—Clydesdales,” he replied. “Would I be interfering with anyone else's business if I set up a stable here for that?”

“Oh, we've got nobody else in the horse business,” Harley replied enthusiastically. “And any Plain community needs
gut
horses.”

“Clydesdales, eh?” Marlin put in. “Most folks I know farm with Belgians—”

“Perhaps I should clarify,” Burkholder cut in with a debonair smile. “Most of the horses I raise are destined for the show ring, for owners who enter them in competitions or drive them in parades. My Clydesdales are magnificent, spirited animals that are more likely to perform in a crowded arena than out in a hayfield.”

Amos was listening carefully, noting how the crowd around them was growing larger as folks caught bits and pieces of the conversation. Kids and adults alike seemed drawn to Monroe Burkholder's resonant voice and cordial demeanor, yet the more Amos heard, the more questions he wanted to ask this newcomer. A man's chosen occupation revealed a lot about his character.

“What got you into raising show horses rather than farm stock?” Amos asked. “I'm wondering how successful such an enterprise might be here in rural Missouri. Promise and the nearby towns are very small, you see.”

“That's one of the things I'll need to ask you about—location, that is,” Burkholder replied. “I'm following in Uncle Herman's footsteps, as far as dealing with Clydesdales, because his reputation—and mine—rest upon the fact that Amish breeders and trainers are known for their meticulous methods and the dependability of the animals they produce.”

Amos noticed that Lowell and Lavern were making their way through the crowd, their cheeks rosy with the cold as they shrugged out of their coats. “
Jah
, that's some horse you've got, Bishop,” the Kurtz boy said with a grin.

“We got him all rubbed down—had to stand on a tall stool to do it!” Lavern added as he and Lowell came up beside Burkholder. “We put him in a stall with fresh rations, hay, and water . . . and I hope you don't mind that we took him for a short spin up and down the road before we tended him. He sure does love the snow.”

Burkholder's laughter filled the large room as he grasped the boys' shoulders. “Clyde never passes up a chance to strut his stuff, and I appreciate you fellows taking
gut
care of him. If you'd be interested, I'll be needing some hands—dependable guys like you—when I get my stables built and transport my breeding stock here.”

Lavern and Lowell gawked at each other, wide-eyed, and then back at the bishop.

“Wow, really?” Lavern asked. “Come time for school to be out next spring, I'd be mighty happy to have a job—”

“
Jah
, you betcha!” Lowell blurted. Then he looked longingly at his father. “Will it be okay if I work for Bishop Monroe sometimes, Dat? I—I know you need me in the barrel factory, too.”

Marlin smiled. “I'm a firm believer in young men trying out several trades rather than being told they have to carry on their father's business.”

“Same here,” Eli said with a nod to his son. “What with Noah and me both being welders, I don't expect—or encourage—you and your two younger brothers to follow my trade. Not enough work in this area for all of us.”

“We won't have to be too concerned about that just yet,” Alma pointed out as she smiled at the boys. “At twelve and thirteen, you'll both be living at home a few more years before you have to earn your livings.”

“Twelve and thirteen—and preachers' boys,” Monroe said with a glimmer in his eyes. “Perfect qualifications—full of energy and raised to be responsible. You'll learn very quickly that if you don't focus on those huge horses every minute, they'll get the best of you. It'll be a challenge I hope you'll grow to love.”

Once again Amos noted how folks in the crowd were nodding, and how Burkholder seemed to know exactly what to say to win them over effortlessly. Mattie was offering Monroe the cookie tray and Rosetta, on the bishop's other side, was handing him a cup of cocoa—while Christine appeared years younger and totally enthralled with him.

“Maybe we should call Lester—ask if Bishop Monroe could stay at his place until you men can get a house built,” Christine suggested. “I'd think it would be better if that Lehman place weren't sitting empty all winter, anyway. Less chance for the pipes to freeze.”

“
Jah
, that's true,” Marlin said. “More than likely, you'll want to choose land up that direction anyway, Bishop, because a lot of the property close to the road has already been claimed.”

“If it wouldn't be any trouble for me to stay in that house, it sounds like a fine arrangement. I really appreciate the welcome you folks are giving me,” Burkholder added as he happily raised his cookie and his cup. “This is much more than any fellow could expect, showing up unannounced.”

“I'll give Lester a call right now!” Rosetta said as she started toward the kitchen.

“And I'd like you to meet my daughters, Phoebe and Laura—as well as the two Kuhn sisters,” Christine said, gesturing toward the refreshment table where those four ladies stood. “It's fortunate that you came while most of us are still in the same room, after the scholars' Christmas Eve program.”

Once again Amos sensed he couldn't press Burkholder for the information he wanted this evening, so he relaxed and observed the way their guest paid special attention to Laura, Phoebe, Ruby, and Beulah—and the rest of the folks who eagerly introduced themselves, as well. Minerva, Harley, and the others around Amos were making their way to the table for more cookies and cocoa, leaving him with the two other preachers.

“I suppose our questions will have to wait until Second Christmas—unless Burkholder volunteers the information,” Amos murmured to Eli and Marlin. “Wouldn't be proper to quiz him tomorrow, on our Lord's birthday. And I suspect Rosetta and her sisters are already planning for his meals—and they'll get him settled into Lester's place for however long he stays.”

“Best to let the women extend their hospitality first and ask our church questions later,” Marlin agreed. “We'll probably learn what we need to know while we visit with him these next few days, anyway. Seems like a mighty nice fellow, if you ask me. We'd be lucky to have him here.”

Amos nodded, bidding Marlin and Eli goodnight. He fetched his cane from the corner, smiling when Mattie came up and tucked her arm through his.

“What if you and I slip out for a walk? Are you up to that?” she asked quietly. “The snow's stopped and the moon's shining and—”

“A short walk sounds like the perfect end to this Christmas Eve,” Amos said, squeezing her hand. “It'll help me settle my mind before I go to bed.”

When he and Mattie had slipped into their wraps, Amos was glad he'd agreed to go outside. The night sky was such a clear indigo, scattered with shining stars, it took his breath away. Moonlight glowed on the freshly fallen snow, and as he and Mattie carefully descended the stairs from the porch, the soft flakes fluttered like shimmering diamond dust around their feet.

Mattie gazed upward, smiling serenely. “What a wondrous night,” she murmured. “Perfect for welcoming the Christ child into our hearts—and for meeting Bishop Monroe, as well. Why do I sense you're not nearly as taken by him as the rest of us are, Amos?”

Amos slipped his arm around Mattie's waist as they strolled slowly toward the road. There was no dodging her question, because she was extremely perceptive. He'd always loved that about Mattie.

“Can't put my finger on it,” he murmured. “As I watched Burkholder beaming at everyone and responding to them—not to mention winning their sympathy by mentioning the loss of his wife and parents—I kept wondering why he ducked my questions about where he's coming from and why he's leaving.”

“There's no denying that Christine's glad he's here,” Mattie murmured. “And
jah
, I saw how the women all flocked around him, even the married ones. Monroe has a way about him. Charisma, I guess you'd call it.”

“That's part of what's nagging at me. Why does a successful fellow like Burkholder—almost too handsome for his own
gut
—leave his home and established business to come to Promise, Missouri, to start over amongst total strangers? And why on earth does he do this during the Christmas holiday?” Amos asked. He took a few more steps, heading toward his house because his legs were getting tired. “Do I sound too suspicious? Have I lost my faith, wondering if Burkholder's motives are as open and honorable as he makes them out to be?”

When Mattie gazed into his eyes, Amos felt the same thrill he always did—yet there was something exceptionally beautiful about her face as they stood together in the hush of the evening.

“Do you suppose the folks at the manger had serious doubts, too?” Mattie mused aloud. She took his hands in hers, continuing in a solemn, stirring voice. “What must poor Mary have endured, bearing a child out of wedlock? Did she ever wonder if her boy was really the Son of God, or if she'd been led astray by her youthful imagination?

“And Joseph—now there was a man who had every reason to doubt whether his beloved's condition was an act of God,” Mattie continued, shaking her head. “
Jah
, an angel told him he should go ahead and take Mary for his wife—and there were angels bringing
gut
tidings of great joy to the shepherds, as well, but they were scared to death by that heavenly proclamation. Even the Wise Men went home by another way after God told them in a dream to steer clear of Herod's evil intentions,” she added. “If I'd been any of those folks, I'm not sure I would've had the faith to believe that all those sensational goings-on were part of God's plan.”

Amos nodded, soaking up the words that flowed so freely from her. He might have questioned Monroe Burkholder's motives, but he would never doubt that Mattie Schwartz was utterly sincere and devoid of deception. It still amazed him that she wanted to be his wife.

“And even though we have the Bible as God's Word that He came to earth for us in Jesus, to save us from ourselves, Christmas is still a mystery,” Mattie continued in an awe-filled voice. “Some things we have to take on faith until we can fully understand them—but don't stop asking your questions, Amos. We depend upon your wisdom to steer us straight, about Monroe Burkholder and everything else we encounter.”

Amos wrapped his arms around her, swaying gently with the rhythm of the carols that had begun playing in his head. “Ah, but you're the wise one, Mattie, always seeing through the extraneous details to the heart of the matter,” he murmured. “And for me, you're the gift of joy—a part of God's grace I don't deserve, but for which I'll be forever grateful. Maybe that's what I should focus on, instead of wondering if Burkholder's too
gut
to be true.”

Mattie eased away so she could gaze into Amos's face. She tenderly stroked his cheek. “You are
gut
, and you are true, Amos,” she said with a sparkle in her dark eyes. “That's all I need to know. We'll soon learn what we need to about Monroe—and meanwhile, I feel a great sense of hope and anticipation because a healthy, successful bishop wants to join us.”

“He might be God's answer for us, considering how Floyd isn't fully functional anymore,” Amos admitted. He chuckled, rubbing Mattie's nose with his. “But right now all I can think of is how badly I want to kiss you—”

Mattie stood on tiptoe and pressed her lips sweetly to his. “Sometimes you talk too much,” she teased softly. “Merry Christmas, dear Amos. I love you.”

He pulled her close, savoring the sweetness of another kiss and the dream that had finally come true for him after so many years. Bishops would come and go, but Amos believed with all his heart that Mattie would stand by him forever. What greater gift could he possibly receive than her precious, abiding love?