Emma Blooms At Last (24 page)

“Amanda's given me some land, so I'm going to build us a house on the farm in Bloomingdale—if you'll have me, that is,” he added in a tight voice. He smelled something getting too hot and reached behind Emma to yank the stew pot off the burner. “But we've got time to sort all that out, jah? Will you let me court you now, Emma? Please?”

*   *   *

E
mma was aware that her first batch of biscuits needed to be taken from the oven and that the stew had scorched, yet her worries evaporated like the steam coming from the pot on the stove. Why had she been so reluctant to kiss this man before? Why had she believed Jerome Lambright was a bounder who was too full of himself to even notice a shy mouse like her?

Once upon a time those things were true
.
But both of us see our lives, our futures, differently now.

Emma eased herself from Jerome's grasp and bustled over to the oven. The look on his face tickled her. He thought she was stalling, not going to answer his courting question, but it wouldn't hurt him to wait, would it? She could let him think, for just a few moments, that she might not gush out a
yes
like his previous fiancées probably had. Emma removed the golden-brown biscuits and set the pan on a rack to cool. Then she returned to the stove to pull the wooden spoon through the stew, assessing how much of it had stuck to the bottom.

Finally, Emma smiled up at Jerome. “I think we'll still have enough for everyone if you don't eat any,” she teased. “Or we can scrape yours from the bottom, where it stuck while you were distracting the cook.”

Where had this playfulness come from? When had she ever teased any man, especially about something as serious as his dinner?

Jerome appeared dumbfounded, as though he'd taken her silly threat seriously. From the front room came strains of the children's singing—“Away in a Manger,” it was—and her dat was singing along. A move to Bloomingdale might be beneficial for both her and her father, but it was too soon to discuss that even though Jerome had mentioned building her a home. Still, Emma's heart fluttered.
He's got plans for his future, and he wants you to be a part of it!

Jerome thumbed away something on her cheek. “Flour,” he murmured. “You look really pretty today, Emma. Like a rose blooming in midwinter. You've got that kind of strength and determination, you know—to bloom where you've been planted, no matter what the season or the situation. That's just one of the things I love about you.”

Her mouth fell open, but no sound came out. Somehow she caught her breath and corralled her runaway thoughts. “I—I
do
want you to court me, Jerome. But I'll be in mourning for a while longer,” she reminded him. “I've put away my black dresses to enjoy Christmas.”

“And I'm glad to see that,” Jerome affirmed. “We'll take our courtship at whatever pace suits you. I just wanted you to know that I'm hoping you—and your dat, if that's best—will join me in the new home I'm planning. It's all I've been able to think about lately.”

When he hugged her, Emma wrapped her arms around his sturdy body and held on tight. For a few heavenly moments, she envisioned herself standing on a new front porch with this handsome man embracing her. She sensed that the expression on her face resembled the way Abby looked when James hugged her and spoke so lovingly to her. And it felt
wonderful
, this affection. Better than she'd been able to imagine.

“Oh!” a little girl exclaimed from the doorway. Then she giggled and began to sing. “Jerome and Emma, sitting in a tree—”

“K-I-S-S-I-N-G!” her twin finished.

Cora and Dora began to clap wildly as Emma eased away from Jerome to smile at them. Simon joined them then, sniffing loudly. “What's on fire? It smells like that time Vera's biscuits were burning and—”

From either side of him, the twins clapped their hands over Simon's mouth. “You're not supposed to talk that way,” Cora insisted in a loud whisper.

“Jah, when we're company at somebody's house, we're supposed to eat what's set in front of us,” Dora reminded him. Then she grinned at Emma. “We're sorry about what Simon just said. We're still training him to think before he talks.”

Emma laughed out loud, and Jerome joined her. “Gut luck with that, girls,” he remarked. “Some of us fellows have taken a long time to learn that lesson.”

“It's all about the training, ain't so?” Emma teased. Then she gazed up into Jerome's deep brown eyes, loving the happiness she saw there . . . the same joy and affection she was feeling now, at long last.

A
t breakfast the next morning, Amanda paused to gaze around the table at her family.
This is what Christmas Eve should look like,
she mused as her gaze lingered on each person. Eddie was home from Cedar Creek, looking happy to be here yet more mature and confident than before he'd done his painting and clerking at the mercantile. Beside him, Pete was smiling as Eddie regaled them all with a tale from the busy shopping season at the store. Simon, Cora, and Dora sat spellbound, listening to their brother's story as they ate their French toast and scrambled eggs.

“Why do I suspect you spent a gut bit of your time gawking at Gail?” Lizzie teased him. “Fannie Lehman's been asking about you at school. Thinks you're never coming back to Bloomingdale or the Singings.”

“Jah, Fannie's asked me the same thing,” Vera teased as she passed the bacon platter. “She's got her eye on you.”

When Eddie shrugged, Pete let out a laugh. “Just my opinion,
Ed, but stick with Gail,” he said. “Fannie and her sisters will be at the school program tonight, and you'll see how moony-eyed they are.”

“Kinda like Jerome and Emma,” Dora said with a giggle.

“Or Mamm and Dat,” Simon remarked.

Amanda covered a laugh when her youngest son flashed her a brown-eyed smile from across the table—probably to distract her as he wrapped his hand around at least three more strips of bacon. And yet, it made her heart flutter to think the kids considered her and Wyman as
moony-eyed
as a young couple.

Wyman's gaze confirmed his agreement with Simon's observation. He winked at her, even as he gripped Jerome's shoulder. “So you and Emma came to an . . .
understanding
when you were at the Graber place yesterday?” he teased.

Jerome looked like the cat that had swallowed the canary. “Oh, Emma and I have always understood each other,” he hedged as he snatched one of the slices of bacon from Simon's plate. “But jah, I've brought her around to my way of thinking.”

“And kissing,” Dora said with a knowing look at her twin sister.

“Jah, right there in Emma's kitchen,” Cora confirmed.

“Kisses!” Alice Ann piped up, kicking gleefully in her high chair. “I wuv kisses!”

Jerome looked down the table, fixing the twins with his teasing yet purposeful gaze. “Someday—if you're lucky—you'll have fellows who can't help but kiss you, too,” he said. “Meanwhile, it's best not to go telling tales on folks who're sweet on each other, because those stories tend to get
repeated
,” he said with a roll of his eyes in Alice Ann's direction. “If Emma knew you were talking about her this way, she might run off like a scared rabbit. And then we'd all be sorry, ain't so?”

Amanda smiled. While Jerome hadn't raised his voice, he'd
made the children aware that gossip could lead to undesirable consequences—a lesson all of them could take to heart. The shine in his eyes announced his progress with Emma, and that lifted Amanda's spirits. Jerome was a fine young man, and Emma would make him a devoted wife. She wanted nothing more than for them to be happy.

“I'm glad the Grabers are coming tomorrow,” Jemima said from the other end of the table. “What with this being their first Christmas without Eunice, it'll do them gut to be amongst other folks and in a different place for the day.”

“Jah, that first round of holidays without Dat was tough,” Lizzie said somberly. She looked at Vera and her new brothers, and then her gaze lingered on Wyman. “This'll be our best Christmas ever, all of us having fun and being together as a family.”

“Amen to that,” Wyman said as he smiled fondly at Lizzie. “We've had our troubles, but we've made our way through them. I'm looking forward to the program at the school this evening, attending with our new friends here in Bloomingdale. I trust you and Pete have learned your parts?”

Lizzie's face lit up. “Jah, Fannie and I, being the oldest girls, put the program together, and we're reciting a poem we wrote to introduce each of the different sections. We'll have recitations about Mary and Joseph's trip to Bethlehem and Baby Jesus's birth.”

“Baby Jesus!” Alice Ann crowed. “At school!”

“He's everywhere, little girl,” Wyman assured the toddler as he chucked her little chin.

As Amanda spread apple butter on another slice of French toast and cut it up for their youngest daughter, she saw a secret sparkling in her husband's eyes. Had he found a new ceramic figurine for the Nativity set? She wasn't going to ask, because she didn't want to spoil Wyman's surprise if he had, or disappoint
their little girl if he hadn't. It seemed awfully
soon
for him to have found that replacement piece, as she didn't think he'd done any shopping.

With God, all things are possible.

The Bible verse filled Amanda with gratitude and wonder, because this peaceful scene at the breakfast table, where all the kids and adults chatted so happily, hadn't seemed possible a few weeks ago. It was indeed the Lord's hand at work, transforming her kids and Wyman's, along with Jerome and Jemima, into the big, happy family for which she'd prayed so earnestly.

“How about you, Pete?” Eddie teased. “This'll be your last school program. Did you write a Christmas essay and memorize it? Or will you duck out before—”

“Pete's going to make us all glad we came tonight,” Wyman stated. “Our new friends and neighbors will be pleased that he's part of the Bloomingdale community now, too.”

“Jah, because Pete's been our carpenter,” Lizzie spoke up. “So instead of the chalkboard with the alphabet above it, you'll see the wooden backdrops of Bethlehem he built and painted for us, to go along with the enactment of the Christmas story. And the raised stage he constructed will make it easier for everyone to see the littlest kids. Teacher Dorcas says the scenery's so gut, she wants to store the flats away to use every year.”

“Gut for you, Pete!” Jerome said.

“I'm pleased to hear you got those finished, Son,” Wyman affirmed.

“So, did that get you out of having to memorize and recite?” Eddie asked as he stabbed another slice of French toast from the platter.

Pete grinned as though recalling some of the Christmas recitations his older brother had given when they'd lived in the Clearwater district. “I'm changing the scenery a couple times during the
program,” he replied. “I've worked long enough at building and painting the backdrops after school that Teacher Dorcas says I've done my part already. I didn't argue with her.”

Eddie's dark eyebrows rose. “Now, why didn't
I
think of doing that when I was the oldest scholar? You're a genius, Pete.”

“Jah, you
wock
, Peter Wabbit!” Simon exclaimed.

Amanda smiled. It was wonderful that Pete had found a way to contribute to the Christmas Eve program using his God-given gift for construction, and she was certain that designing and painting such scenery would have drawn only negative attention from Uriah Schmucker, were they still living in Clearwater.

As everyone rose from the table, Amanda went to the pie safe to prepare the desserts and casserole dishes for tomorrow. Even though Christmas didn't fall on a Sunday, it was important that their prayerful observance of Christ's birth not be interrupted by a lot of cooking or other work. Wyman had asked for a sour cream raisin pie, the boys had requested a meatball sandwich casserole for tomorrow's dinner, and the younger children wanted Jemima's chicken soup with homemade noodles for supper tonight.

As she measured out flour from the bin in the pie safe, Amanda felt Wyman come up behind her. He leaned in close, kissing her behind the ear before he whispered, “How about you and me making a cocoa and pie date for after the kids are tucked in tonight?”

Goose bumps tingled up Amanda's spine. “I can do that, jah,” she murmured.

“I've got a surprise for you.”

“Me, too,” Amanda replied with a furtive laugh.

Again he nuzzled her. “I love you so much, Amanda.”

She turned and clasped his handsome face between her flour-coated hands. “And I love you, Wyman.”

Amanda exhaled slowly, aware the kids were watching them
while they cleared the table and ran the dishwater. But wasn't it the best example she and Wyman could set, to allow their children to witness deep, true love between a man and a woman?

*   *   *

L
ater that evening, after a particularly moving program at the school, and after thanking Pete and Lizzie for their contributions to it, Wyman took great pleasure in tucking the four youngest kids into bed after listening to their prayers. Eddie and Pete had challenged Vera and Lizzie to a late-night game of Settlers of Catan downstairs at the game table, and Jerome and Jemima had retired to their rooms. As Amanda spent a moment with Simon, the twins, and Alice Ann, he went downstairs and quickly retrieved the small box from his coat pocket.

The front room, bathed in the glow of the gas fixtures and warmed by the woodstove, seemed cozier than usual . . . a welcoming place for the holy child who'd been born in a barn on a chilly night. As Wyman gently placed the new figurine in the tabletop stable, between His earthly mother and father, emotion choked him.

What an honor it was, to bring this symbol of Baby Jesus into their home again, in time for his children to find Him on Christmas morning. As Wyman gazed at the baby's tiny face and outstretched arms, he felt as though Christ were gazing up at him in gratitude and welcome. It was silly to think the ceramic baby had any human qualities—a reminder of why the Old Order restricted graven images. Yet his heart was moved by the open, loving smile on the baby's face.

In the stillness of the moment, he felt his spirit lift.

“Oh, Wyman,” Amanda murmured as she came up beside him. Her hand fluttered to her heart. “Denki so much for this fine surprise. It was silly of me to be upset when the other figurine broke.”

“But now the Holy Family is complete, just as our family is,”
he murmured. “We have Tyler and his computer savvy to thank for this.”

“We have many, many things to be grateful for.” Amanda's eyes glimmered in the lamplight as she gazed at the Nativity set. Then, with a prayerful sigh, she gazed up at him. “Is it time for that pie and cocoa you mentioned earlier?”

“A fitting finish to a satisfying day.” Wyman slipped his arm around her shoulders as they headed into the kitchen. As Amanda poured milk into a pan on the stove, he stepped into the pantry and found the wrapped jar he'd hidden behind the other boxes on the shelf.

“For you, dear wife,” he murmured as he set it on the counter beside her. “I bought this that day I picked up your Christmas gifts at the mercantile, thinking I knew best—and I ran short on cash,” he explained with a sigh. “It comes with the promise to give you much more worthy gifts every chance I get.”

Amanda's smile warmed him as she turned the jar this way and that. “You made the wrapping paper, too? Seems I'm not the only artist in the family.”

“It was Simon's idea, and his coloring, mostly,” Wyman admitted. “It's so amazing to see the way he's taken to you.”

“He's such a joy. I have an idea you were a lot like him when you were his age.” She slipped her finger beneath the taped edge of the brown paper, careful not to tear the holly and candy canes their son had drawn with his crayons. “Oh my. Pickle spears.”

When Amanda burst into a fit of giggles, Wyman wondered what she found so funny. Or was his gift, and the idea behind it, as totally ridiculous as he'd feared?

“I—I'd be in a real
pickle
without you, dear Amanda,” he murmured earnestly. “Had I not overridden your plan for Jerome to pick up your order and pay for it with—”

“You were doing your best, Wyman, at a time when you were
trying to keep our family solvent. How can I fault you for that?” Once again she looked at the jar of dill spears and giggled.

“I really will find a more fitting gift, Amanda, but—”

She laid a finger across his lips. Her deep green eyes fixed upon his with such an intense love that Wyman sucked in his breath.

“It seems you've already given me the greatest gift of all, Wyman.”

He questioned her with his eyes, for her expression, her tone, left him strangely unable to speak.

“I'm pretty sure I'm expecting.”

Wyman blinked. Then he grabbed her and held her close, a sob escaping him. “I—oh, Amanda!”

“Let's keep this between us until we're certain,” she whispered. Amanda was holding him so tightly, he felt her heart beating against his stomach as she rested her head on his shoulder. “But meanwhile, your pickles are the perfect solution for those cravings I'll get, ain't so? Jerome had to fetch a couple of jars of dills from the store every week, along with peppermint stick ice cream, while I was carrying the twins.”

As Wyman closed his eyes and marveled over the way his wife fit so perfectly against him, a joyous serenity settled over him. Amanda had found a way to transform his hastily grabbed gift into the perfect offering, and once again he gave thanks for the way this woman had blessed his life.

“You're absolutely right, dear wife,” he murmured, kissing her lightly on the lips.

“Shall we celebrate with cocoa and pie? Something tells me we'll have company, once the kids smell our cocoa.”

Wyman chuckled. “I'm a happy man, sharing this sweetness with my family. Merry Christmas, Amanda.”

“Jah, dear husband, merry Christmas to you, too—and to our big happy family.”