Christmas Comes to Morning Star

by Charlotte Hubbard

  “Everything’s great!” Molly assured him quickly. “We’ve doubled our noodle output—”

  “And just in time, because we anticipate huge customer turnout every Saturday between now and Christmas,” Marietta finished with a nod.

  Pete glanced at Molly and then looked around again. “Well, you’re busy, so I should let you get back to your work,” he said. “See you ’round—”

  “Like a donut!” Molly chimed in on their old joke. “So long—”

  “Like a banana!” Marietta finished.

  As Pete stepped outside, she sensed he didn’t really want to leave but couldn’t find a reasonable excuse for hanging around—mostly to gaze at Molly whenever he thought Marietta wouldn’t notice. If her sister had found his reason for coming over a little lame, she didn’t say so.

  But the bright smile on Molly’s face told Marietta more than words could ever say.

  * * *

  Pete cranked up his pickup, gunning the engine as he shot down the Helfings’ lane—and then he kicked himself. He was trying to act more mature, and driving like a clueless kid—the way he had when he’d lived in the twins’ dawdi haus—was not what he’d intended to do. But old habits died hard.

  “Riley, we’ve gotta do better, boy,” he said as he slung his arm around the dog’s furry neck. “Keep reminding me that Molly won’t take me seriously unless I turn over a lot of new leaves, will ya?”

  Riley licked Pete’s face exuberantly. The dog loved to ride in the pickup every chance he got, and he’d been excited about returning to the twins’ place.

  Pete sighed as he checked the road for oncoming traffic. “Should’ve known I wouldn’t have any time alone with her, considering that she and her sister spend every waking moment together,” he remarked. “After all this time, I still want to rumple Molly’s short hair, you know?”

  Riley woofed in agreement.

  “Even though she and Marietta stick together like glue, I have to admire the way Molly’s supported her sister,” Pete continued as he drove toward town. “Not many Amish girls would’ve shaved their heads during a sister’s chemo, knowing how that goes directly against the Ordnung! I love that Molly broke the rules that way!”

  When his dog’s eyes widened, Pete laughed.

  “Uh-oh, I said that L word, didn’t I? Gotta watch that. Gotta toughen up my attitude,” he continued in a firmer voice. “It’s just as well we moved away from the Helfing place, Riley. Molly’s the bossiest girl I ever met—and there’s no prying those twins apart anyway. So why act like I’m interested, right? Gazing into her deep green eyes can only lead me where I really don’t want to go.”

  Riley looked forward, gazing through the windshield as though he didn’t believe a word Pete had just said.

  As always, the dog probably had it right.

  Chapter 2

  From her bakery at The Marketplace, Jo watched in amazement as Nelson Wengerd and his son, Michael, clambered up their tall stepladders carrying potted poinsettias. As they’d promised earlier, they were building a Christmas tree in the center of the commons area by strategically stacking the plants in rings that grew smaller as the “tree” got closer to the ceiling. The bright red flowers in pots covered with green foil made such a festive display that Jo and the other shopkeepers who’d been setting up watched in awe as Michael placed the final, single poinsettia on the top.

  “And there you have it!” the slender young man proclaimed from high upon his ladder. “Let the Christmas season begin!”

  Jo, the Helfing twins, and Gabe Flaud, who ran the furniture shop beside the bakery, broke into applause. “That looks fabulous, Michael!” Gabe called out. “Your poinsettia tower will be the star attraction at The Marketplace. You fellows outdid yourselves.”

  Jo caught Michael’s unpretentious smile before he focused on the potted plants below him. “Denki, Gabe. How’s it look from down there? Everything seem balanced from one side to the other?”

  “Let’s adjust this third layer a bit,” Nelson replied, stepping down one rung to shift the pots in that row. “We’ll have a mess if any of these plants topple off and hit the floor. And if customers ask,” he added, glancing at his audience, “these plants are all for sale. We’ll dismantle the tower on the last Saturday before Christmas so folks who’ve ordered them can claim them.”

  “And we have dozens more they can buy before that,” Michael put in.

  Nelson laughed as he descended to the floor. “We have hundreds more, so encourage your friends to buy several! Our goal is to empty our Queen City greenhouses by the end of the shopping season.”

  The ding of Jo’s oven timer warned her to take out the large pans of brownies she was baking. It was probably best that she step away from her door before Michael caught her watching the way he moved. He was such an agile man, tall and slim, with a graceful strength that caught her eye every time he was around. Jo knew her secret admiration for Michael would never come to anything, but it was fun to daydream about him while she was baking.

  After she set the hot pans of brownies on the stainless steel countertop, Jo slipped two big pans of cinnamon rolls into the oven and reset the timer. The weekend after Thanksgiving was traditionally the time when English customers did much of their Christmas shopping, so she hoped she’d stocked her glass cases and shelves with enough breads and pastries to last through the day.

  As Alice and Adeline Shetler bustled in, Jo smiled brightly. “Gut to see you girls,” she called out as she measured powdered sugar to make frosting. “Today, and for all the Saturdays in December, we’ll be selling spiced cider as well as coffee out in the commons. I put the new warming pot out for you, and the first batch of cider and spices is ready to pour into it,” she added, pointing toward the big jug on the floor.

  “What with Rose Wagler’s bayberry candles and your brownies coming from the oven, The Marketplace smells heavenly,” Alice remarked as she tied her white apron behind her back.

  Her twin nodded enthusiastically as she, too, donned her apron. “The aromas of the cider and coffee should sell a lot of goodies today. Plenty of husbands will be sitting at our tables while their wives finish shopping, so we’ll just keep passing our trays of treats they can’t resist!”

  Jo laughed out loud. The redheaded Shetler twins were the perfect hostesses, and she was glad she’d hired them as her assistants. “I’m going to frost these brownies and sprinkle the tops with crushed peppermints. We’ll sell the first of our cutout Christmas cookies today, too,” she told them. “When you’ve got the cider and coffee going out front, I’d like you to arrange some of those cookies on trays for me, please.”

  “We’ll do it!” Adeline declared.

  “Jah, working here for you got us out of scrubbing the house to prepare for church at our place tomorrow,” Alice said with a chuckle.

  Jo’s eyebrows rose. Their stepmamm, Leah Shetler, who’d married their father about a year ago, had six-year-old Stevie, little adopted Betsy, and newborn Adah to tend, as well as the ducks, goats, and cattle she raised. “I hope I didn’t cause a problem, leaving Leah and Lenore shorthanded with their cleaning.”

  “Oh, no, it’s not that way at all!” Alice insisted, sharing a grin with her sister. “Leah and Mammi Lenore would rather clean than cook, so we girls have already made up a big ham-and-hashbrown casserole and a cake for supper tonight—”

  “And we’ll bake something for tomorrow’s after-church meal when we get home,” Adeline added without missing a beat. “Stevie went to the auction Dat’s calling this morning, so it’ll be a quiet day at home until we all get back. Just the way Leah and Mammi Lenore like it.”

  As the mischievous twins hurried out to the commons, Jo chuckled. The two girls had been running the roads with English boyfriends and causing their dat, Jude Shetler, all manner of headaches when he and Leah had married about a year ago. She was glad Alice and Adeline had made their peace with their stepmother—and they adored Leah’s mamm, Lenore, who now lived with
them. It was a blessing that they’d found special ways to be helpful in a household that bustled with three young children.

  “I like that smile on your face, Jo. You’re happiest when you’re baking, ain’t so?”

  Jo’s stomach fluttered when Michael stepped into her shop. The evergreen wreath in his hand suggested he had something other than flirtation in mind, and that was just as well, wasn’t it? She didn’t have the foggiest idea how to respond to his remark about her smile.

  “That fresh wreath smells just like Christmas,” she said. “I suppose you and your dat make those at your Queen City greenhouse, jah?”

  “We do—and we also plan to assemble them outside our shop on these Marketplace Saturdays, where folks can watch us,” Michael replied. “Meanwhile, we’ve brought enough of them to hang on everyone’s shop entry for the holiday season.”

  Jo stopped stirring her frosting to gaze at him. “That’s very generous—very thoughtful,” she stammered. “You fellows have gone all out to decorate The Marketplace for us, and I really appreciate it. It’s been wonderful-gut to have you and your dat selling your produce and all the beautiful things you grow. They’ve been great additions to the products we other shopkeepers carry.”

  The blush that tinted Michael’s cheeks told Jo that he felt every bit as shy around her as she was near him. She suspected that he hadn’t gone on any more dates than she had—but she’d never ask him about that, of course.

  “It’s been a boon to our nursery business, selling our plants here,” he said with a smile that brought his dimples out. “But more than that, Dat and I, well—we’ve really enjoyed coming to Morning Star to spend time with you and your mamm, and we appreciate being able to rent your dawdi haus each weekend. And—and if you’re interested, my invitation to come to Queen City and see our greenhouses full of poinsettias still stands.”

  Jo swallowed hard. How many times had she dreamed of taking Michael up on the offer he’d made a few weeks ago—even though her fussy mother had insisted she wanted nothing to do with such a visit or the two-hour buggy ride it entailed. “I—we’ll see,” she hedged. “Baking for the Christmas season is keeping me busier than usual this year—”

  “But if you can spare a couple of weekdays in early December, the sight of all those bright red poinsettias will take your breath away,” Michael insisted. His blue eyes sparkled with enthusiasm. “We also grow Christmas cacti and amaryllis, so the nursery shop is alive with color, as well. It would be a way for you to see our home, and for us to return some of your hospitality, too, Jo.”

  Jo’s heart was pounding so hard that Michael could probably hear it. What a joy it would be to see the Wengerds’ home—not to mention those greenhouses filled with such vibrant Christmas flowers.

  As she once again noticed how slim and attractive he was, however, Jo was even more aware that she probably outweighed him by thirty pounds. A guy like Michael would never look past her unbecoming height and heftiness—and even though he’d never met her deceased dat, there was no getting around the fact that Jo had been created in Big Joe Fussner’s image.

  She focused on her pans of brownies. “It sounds like a wonderful time, but I doubt if Mamm would go, so—”

  “Maybe we can work around that,” Michael put in quickly. “But I understand. Your mamm has said at various times that she doesn’t like long buggy rides—nor does she like it when her routine is disrupted.”

  “You’ve got her pegged, Michael.” Jo fought a sudden wave of impatient sadness, wishing her mamm could be more open to change and new experiences. “Denki for asking, though. We’ll see how things go.”

  Michael’s brow furrowed with disappointment, but he nodded. “Better hang these wreaths before we open the outer doors for our customers. Have a gut day, Jo.”

  “You as well,” she called after him.

  Why did she feel her hopes and dreams walking away with Michael? She could only pray that he would, by some miracle, look beyond her appearance to give her another chance—on a day when Mamm was in a cooperative mood.

  Or on a day when you follow your heart instead of letting your mother’s narrow vision limit your life forever.

  * * *

  Glenn Detweiler dropped into one of his handmade slatted birch rocking chairs. He was exhausted from keeping up the appearance that he was caught up in the Christmas spirit, as his customers and fellow shopkeepers were. His wood shop in The Marketplace, where he sold his handmade toys and chairs, had seen a steady stream of shoppers all morning; now he craved the peace and quiet a lull in the traffic allowed him.

  Peace had eluded him since he’d lost his beloved Dorcas a few months ago. The recent, unexpected passing of his mamm had thrown his life into even more turmoil, what with raising seven-year-old Billy Jay and baby Levi—and now keeping closer track of his aging dat, as well.

  And quiet was a concept his boisterous son struggled with—not to mention the way his newborn wailed in the night because he, too, missed his mother and grandmother something fierce.

  Glenn sighed. What had he done to deserve so much heartache? During his grief counseling sessions, Bishop Jeremiah assured him that God loved him—yet Glenn wondered about that. Wouldn’t a loving God have healed Dorcas’s severe anemia? If God truly cared about him and his family, why had He allowed Glenn’s mamm to pass from overexertion and the complications of her diabetes?

  If all things were possible in God, why couldn’t Glenn crawl out from under his heavy burden of grief? And why did his father grow more forgetful by the day?

  And why did Lydianne pick the bishop to marry instead of me?

  Catching sight of the pretty blond schoolteacher who assisted all the shopkeepers—and who floated on a cloud now that she was engaged to Jeremiah Shetler—took Glenn’s mood down even further. Lydianne’s glow announced that she was the happiest woman on earth with everything to look forward to—

  “Shall I bring you some of Jo’s spiced cider, Glenn? Can I help you in any way today?” The lovely blonde of his fantasies paused in the shop entry, her blue eyes alight with concern for him.

  It was all he could do not to tell Lydianne Christner to get lost and never darken his doorway again. Her expression was so earnest and compassionate, Glenn wanted to spit nails. He sighed loudly to defuse his black emotions, however.

  “Nah. I’m fine,” he groused. “If I want cider, I’ll get my own.”

  Her startled expression gave Glenn a little hit of satisfaction, even as he knew he’d been unreasonably rude to her. After all, Teacher Lydianne had been Billy Jay’s salvation after Dorcas had died, and she was paying even more attention to him at school now that his mammi was gone, as well. Thanks to her, Billy Jay was showing signs of recovery and an interest in his schoolwork again.

  Lydianne was a wonderful, beautiful woman. But she would never be his. He was relieved when she turned and left his shop.

  Glenn rose from the rocking chair, disgusted with himself and with life in general. Maybe a cup of that warm spiced cider would perk him up, because once again he’d neglected to bring anything for his lunch—and the thought of joining Gabe Flaud and his dat, Martin, for a quick meal was yet another way to torture himself: being a newlywed, Gabe radiated happiness like the sun itself. Flaud was his best friend, and he meant well, but Glenn could barely stand to be around him since he’d married Regina Miller.

  As he crossed the commons to help himself to cider, Glenn knew he needed to stop blaming his friends for his black cloud of unhappiness. They were going about their everyday lives exactly as they should, being especially caring toward him and his dat. But their kindness only rubbed salt in his emotional wounds.

  Glenn gulped a cup of the cider, grateful for its sweet, spicy warmth, and then poured himself some more. When one of the redheaded Shetler twins came up with a tray of decorated cookies and bars, he reached for his wallet.

  “No need for your money,” she assured him breezily. “Jo’s happy to let our shopkeepers enjoy comp
limentary refreshments, because without our crafters, The Marketplace wouldn’t be here.”

  Glenn wasn’t sure whether he was speaking to Alice or Adeline, but he put a couple of bucks on her tray despite what she’d said. “Only fair to pay Jo for the gut stuff she bakes,” he snapped as he chose a chocolate-frosted long john. “The Marketplace wouldn’t be up and running if she hadn’t gotten the original idea for it, after all.”

  With a wary nod, the girl took off to offer the tray to other folks seated at the square wooden tables in the commons area.

  Glenn sighed loudly. He’d scared Jude’s daughter with his gruff tone.

  Jeremiah’s right. You need to count your blessings instead of focusing on all the things that are wrong with your life right now.

  Startled by the voice in his head, which had sounded very much like his beloved Dorcas, Glenn noticed that Marietta Helfing had stepped outside the noodle shop for a breather. She and her sister were enjoying nonstop traffic in their store these days—yet he caught a hint of exhaustion on Marietta’s pale, pinched face. She was recovering nicely from her cancer surgery and treatments, but she was still too thin by twenty pounds. In profile, as she leaned against the entry post, she resembled a stick figure.

  And she’ll remain flat-chested forever, even after she’s regained her full strength.

  Glenn focused on his pastry before Marietta caught him staring at her from across the commons. He couldn’t imagine how bereft she must feel after sacrificing part of her body to such a cruel disease. And even though she’d undergone chemo, would she always live in fear that the cancer might come back?

  It was a sobering thought. And it was the kick in the rear Glenn needed—at least for the moment. As he devoured the long john in three fast bites, he reminded himself that he wasn’t the only person whose life had been irrevocably altered this past year. He saw that a few customers had gone into his wood shop, so he wiped his sticky fingers on his pants and pasted a smile on his face.