The Amish Christmas Sleigh (17 page)

“
Jah?
” she asked.

He nodded. “For the rest of my life.”

“I love you, Jess Schmucker.”

He smiled and took a step back. “I love you, too. Now, grab your coat. We have a Christmas to celebrate.”

 

Riding in a sleigh with Jess and his girls was about the best feeling in the world. The steady
clomp
of the horse's hooves, the wind stinging their cheeks. The love that surrounded them all.

They were wrapped up together in the quilt that she had made once upon a time. The air was cold on her face, but they were warm and happy.

“Are you really going to be our
mamm?
” Hope asked. “Really and truly?”

Bernice nodded. She could hardly believe it herself.

Jess chuckled, his smile showing just what he thought about the prospect.

“And you'll be at our house every day?” Constance, too, seemed unable to comprehend the joy.

“
Jah
.” She caught Jess's gaze. Every day as his wife, as the mother to his girls. It was the best Christmas she could have ever imagined. The best Christmas of her entire life.

“Can we make cookies, too?” Lilly Ruth asked.

“Don't be dumb, Lilly Ruth. We can't have Christmas cookies all year long.”

“Constance.” The girl's name on her father's lips was a gentle warning.

“But we can have them every year,” Bernice said. Every Christmas with her new family.

“And a sleigh ride. Can we have a sleigh ride every Christmas?” Lilly Ruth pleaded.

“Of course,” Jess said. “But only when it snows.”

“A white Christmas every year,” Lilly Ruth said in awe. “I'll start praying for it right now.”

Constance started to contradict the words, but Jess silently shook his head.

Bernice smiled to herself. The chance of a white Christmas every year was slim, but Bernice knew that with God and love anything was possible.

A
N
U
NEXPECTED
C
HRISTMAS
B
LESSING

MOLLY JEBBER

Thank you to:

 

Dawn Dowdle, agent, and Editor-in-Chief John Scognamiglio, for believing in me. I couldn't ask for a better agent or editor-in-chief.

Misty Love, my daughter, and Mitchell Morris, my brother, Lee Granza, Debbie Bugezia, Elaine Saltsgaver, and the rest of my wonderful friends and family, for the unwavering encouragement, support, and love.

Patricia Campbell, mentor, author, and friend, and Diane Welker, author and friend, for her help and support.

C
HAPTER
1

 

C
harity Lantz dug into her big pinewood sewing box for a piece of blue cloth to patch a hole in her boy's pants and eyed the faded torn gray shirt of her late husband, Aaron. The one she no longer had a need to mend. She lifted the soft material and held it to her nose, closed her eyes for a moment, and breathed deeply. His scent had faded away. She missed his laugh, touch, and advice.

She shook her head. His death had occurred a year ago yesterday. Time had passed quickly since that fateful day his heart failed him. She folded the shirt and tucked it back in her box. Someday she'd discard it, but not today. She darted her eyes to the toys on the floor. Josiah, five, and Beth, eight, should have a daed in their lives, but she couldn't imagine herself married to another man.

Maybe she should reconsider Abe Beachy's proposal for her kinner's sakes. He adhered to Amish law and would provide a gut living for them. Josiah and Beth liked him. Widowed and childless at thirty, why hadn't he remarried? She wrinkled her forehead and sighed. She couldn't picture herself wed to the soft-spoken, shy, and lanky Amish man. He walked as if he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders.

She bowed her head. “Dear Heavenly Father, am I being selfish wanting to fall in love again? Am I depriving Josiah and Beth of a daed? Please lead, guide, and direct me in the way You would have me go. Amen.”

She crossed the room and glanced out the window at the fresh snow on the ground and ice-covered tree branches. Eyes wide, she grabbed her burnoose, threw it around her shoulders, and rushed outside to the new neighbor's haus. She waved the kinner over to her. “Josiah and Beth, you come home and stay in our yard. Don't bother our new neighbor. He's just moved in and doesn't need the two of you pestering him.”

She smiled. “Hi, I'm Charity Lantz. I apologize for my curious kinner coming to talk to you on your first day here. They're not shy.”

“Hi, I'm Luke Fisher. I hope it's all right, I've asked the kinner, and I hope you will call me Luke. You don't need to apologize. I'm enjoying their company.”

She gasped as a gust of wind blew his hat across the snow. She caught it and handed it back to him. His full head of thick brown hair matched his deep brown eyes. She guessed his age around the same as hers, twenty-six.

Her cheeks warmed. “You're kind. You may call me Charity. Wilkom to Berlin.”

Her neighbors, the Zellers, had told her they sold their haus to Luke Fisher, an unmarried Amish man from Lancaster, Pennsylvania, before they moved to another Amish community in Ontario, Canada. Their brief description of him hadn't done the man justice. She'd expected a much older man. His deep brown gaze met hers, and the muscles of his arms fit tight against his coat sleeves. He was tall and more handsome than any other man in the community.

“Danki for rescuing my hat.”

Beth skipped over to a black, medium-sized dog next to Luke. A blond curl peeked out from under her hat and hung in her eyes. She swiped it away. “Mamm, this is Star. Isn't he the prettiest dog you've ever seen? He won't bite. Pet him.”

Charity smoothed her hand over the dog's head. She studied the star on his forehead, his wagging tail, and his long tongue hanging out of his mouth. “He has a clever name.” She petted the animal. “Hello, Star. You're a gut-looking dog.” She wiped a wet snowflake from her nose.

“He's well-behaved and loves people. You don't have to worry. He's harmless.”

“I can tell.”

They both laughed as Josiah and Beth peeled off their gloves and stretched out their fingers for Star to lick.

Josiah tugged at Luke's coat sleeve. “Will you take me for a ride on your sled sometime?”

Beth stared up at him with her big blue eyes. “Will you take me for a ride, too?”

“Kinner, mind your manners. Luke doesn't have time to take you anywhere. He has a wagon full of supplies to unload.” Her cheeks heated. “I'm sorry for my kinner's impoliteness.”

“Again, don't apologize. I'd be happy to take them for a ride on the sled tomorrow. Since the snow is solid and several inches deep, it'd be perfect timing.”

Josiah bounced on his toes. “Can we, Mamm? Please?”

“If Luke's in agreement, then you may go.” She smiled.

“Yippee!”

“Come knock on my door at noon tomorrow.” He pointed to the full wagon. “I'll be ready for a break from unpacking by then. I'll pull you for a while, and then you can pull me.”

Josiah giggled. “You might be too heavy for us.”

Beth wrinkled her nose. “We both might be able to pull you.”

He laughed. “I'm teasing.”

“I'd better get home and start supper before they have a chance to embarrass me again. It's nice to meet you.” Charity turned to head home.

Beth glanced over her shoulder. “Join us for supper, Luke.”

Charity froze. Beth should've asked first. What should she do? Invite him? “You're wilkom to come for supper.”

“Danki, what time?”

“Six, or we can make it earlier.”

“No, six is fine. I'll be over. I appreciate it.”

She escorted Beth and Josiah home. “I appreciate you being kind, but you should ask for permission before going to Luke's haus or inviting him to supper.”

Josiah bowed his head and stuck out his bottom lip. “He said we could come over anytime. He likes us. Star does, too. Why wouldn't you want Luke to come here for supper?”

“I don't mind him coming for supper, but I need to make sure I have enough food on hand for a guest.”

Beth grinned. “It's all right, Mamm. Don't worry. I'll scoop half my food onto his plate if you don't have enough.”

No wonder her son and dochder bounced on their toes to have their new neighbor for a meal. She sighed. The Zellers had been talkative with her but only cordial to her kinner.

“Your offer is sweet. I'll find enough food to cook.” She gently tapped her dochder's nose. “You and your bruder pick up your toys and arrange them on your bedroom shelves.”

She retreated to the kitchen, unhooked a plain white apron, and tied it behind her back at the waist. She opened the maple wood cupboard door and selected small plates, bowls, and cups she and Aaron had purchased the day after they married. She frowned. She'd invited other women to share meals in her haus since then, but not another man.

The Zellers had had a gut impression of him when they sold him their haus. He seemed nice enough, and they did share the same Amish beliefs. She straightened her shoulders. No need to fret over whether she was doing the proper thing in having an unwed man for supper. If the kinner were going to spend time with Luke, she should find out all she could about the man.

After grasping a container of leftover stew out of the icebox, she dropped the mixture into the iron kettle hanging off a hook over the flames in the fireplace. This would free up enough room on the small stove to warm her bread and pan of canned apples. She rubbed her chin. Would this be enough food to satisfy his hunger? She hoped he wasn't expecting a hearty meal.

On the table, she arranged sliced homemade bread in a basket and placed a clean white cotton cloth on top to keep the slices warm. Firm and moist, it might be her best loaf yet. She studied the table, and then her stew. The vegetable and meat mixture boiled and bubbled hot. Steam rose off the top, and its aroma filled the air. She stirred the mixture. Thick, just the way she liked it. She placed butter in a small dish and then put it next to the cherry jam she had canned last summer. She grinned. He could fill up on bread, butter, and jam.

His cheeks pink and out of breath, Josiah ran into the room. “I want to sit by Luke.”

“No, I want to sit by Luke.” Beth rushed in behind him and pulled out a chair. She scooted it closer to hers. “He'll sit there and be closer to me.”

“You can both sit next to Luke.”

A rap on the door sounded, and the kinner ran and flung it open.

“You're on time. I've been watching the clock.” Beth glanced past him. “Where's Star?”

Luke stomped the snow off his boots, stepped inside, and put his hat on the hook on the wall. He shrugged out of his black wool coat. “I left him at home.”

Charity removed her apron, accepted his coat, and hung it on a worn wooden peg. “You could've brought Star. He's wilkom anytime.”

Josiah tugged on Luke's pant leg. “Will you go get him? Please.”

Beth stood. “Please!”

“Star has made quite an impression on the kinner. I like him, too.” Luke walked over to the table. “I appreciate you inviting him. I'll bring him next time.” He paused. “Where shall I sit?”

Beth pointed to the chair on the end. “Sit by me.”

Josiah wiggled in his seat. “And me.”

Charity pumped water into a pitcher, filled glasses, and put them on the table. She poured the stew into a white china bowl, added a ladle for dipping, and sat. “Would you mind praying for our meal, Luke?”

“I'd be happy to.”

Josiah and Beth reached for Luke's and Charity's hands. Charity's heart raced as she beheld the grins on her kinner's faces at having Luke at their table. She bowed her head.

Luke closed his eyes and did the same. “Dear Heavenly Father, danki for guiding me to Berlin safely. Danki for this food and for introducing me to this fine family. Please bless Charity for preparing this meal. All these things I ask and pray in Your name. Amen.” He dipped the ladle in the stew and filled his bowl, then slathered jam on his bread and put it on the small plate beside his glass. “I haven't taken time to cook anything today. I'm hungry, and this looks delicious. I'm glad you invited me. Danki.”

“You're wilkom. The Zellers told me you lived in Lancaster, Pennsylvania. Did you live there long?”

He held a spoonful of stew. “Jah, all my life. I needed a change, and friends told me they had visited Berlin and liked the town. I visited a week ago and purchased Mr. and Mrs. Zellers' property. I sold my place to a neighbor who was looking for a haus and farmland for his dochder and her husband.”

“Do you have family in Lancaster?”

“No, my mamm died giving birth to my schweschder. Neither of them survived. I had a bruder, but he left our community to live in the world. In my opinion, my daed died of a broken heart a year later. I don't have other siblings.” He sipped his water. “Enough talk about me. Tell me about you.”

She couldn't imagine having a sibling leave to live in the world and having to treat them as if they were dead, according to Amish law. His downcast eyes and frown at the mention of this told her it must not be easy for him.

Beth paused and held her spoonful of stew. “Mamm doesn't have a bruder or schweschder, either.”

“No, but I had friends my age for neighbors, and we were close.”

Luke lifted his eyebrows. “You're blessed to have your bruder. I would've liked to have had a sibling. I didn't have friends my age close to home. My daed taught me how to target-shoot and fix things. I enjoyed his company.”

“We had a daed, but he's not here anymore.” Josiah pointed to an empty oak chair in the sitting room. “Mamm found him in his favorite chair. He fell asleep and never woke up. I don't 'member much about him.” He stared at Luke.

Beth set her glass on the table. “I do. I miss him. He gave the best hugs and told the best stories. He made me laugh a lot.” She stared at her bowl. “Mr. Zeller and Mr. Yoder put my daed in a box. Our friends came to our haus and brought lots of food. The bishop talked, and then we buried him in the ground. I cried.” She gazed at Charity and squinted. “But he's in heaven, not in the wooden box. Right, Mamm?”

Charity put a hand to her heart. Beth's simple account of her husband's death proved accurate. She studied the pain in Beth's eyes. It broke her heart. “Yes, you're right. Your daed is happy, healthy, and in heaven.” She put her hand on her dochder's and smiled.

“Your daed was blessed to have a kind family.” Luke cleared his throat. “If you clean your plates, I'll take you for a sled ride after we help your mamm wash the dishes. The sled is on the porch outside.”

Beth and Josiah's eyes sparkled, and they clapped their hands.

Beth finished her last bite. “Can we, Mamm, please?”

Josiah chewed and swallowed his last spoonful. “Please, Mamm?”

“Luke, you don't have to entertain them. You must have a hundred things to do. We expect nothing in return for supper.”

“I want to take them.” He winked. “It's no fun to go sledding alone.”

Luke had changed the subject, probably to cheer her kinner. Her son and dochder behaved as if they'd known him all their lives. Maybe it was his calm demeanor and voice.

“You're very generous.” Hands on hips, she addressed Josiah and Beth. “All right. You don't have to do the dishes. I'll take care of them.” She kissed their foreheads. “Have a gut time.”

They bundled up in their winter coats, hats, and boots. She held the door. Luke instructed them on how to hold on to the sled as they strode outside. They stood like little soldiers and didn't interrupt him.

She shut the door and peered out the window. They followed Luke's instructions to the letter. She giggled and held a hand to her mouth. Luke had more energy than her kinner. He ran, pulling Josiah on the sled first, then Beth. She loved their happy faces. They should sleep gut tonight.

Returning to the kitchen, she cleared the table, washed and dried the dishes, and then put milk on the small wood-burning stove to heat. She was enjoying his company as much as her kinner.