Christmas Comes to Morning Star

by Charlotte Hubbard

  Glenn accepted his plate from Molly, too, before he looked at his sister again. “See how they look after us here? You and Norm better round up the kids and have some lunch. Then we’re going to put on the plywood for the roof—”

  “So we can install the shingles on Monday,” Pete chimed in. “Ordinarily, we have more helpers. But even though we made less progress today, I predict this house’ll be ready to move into by Christmas.”

  Sadie’s face had grown pinker with each remark the men around her made, so Pete wasn’t surprised when she threw out her arms in exasperation. “Doesn’t my opinion count for anything?” she demanded. “I drove all the way out here from Indiana to—”

  “Actually, I did the driving,” Norman murmured as he gazed longingly at the casserole pan.

  “—give my dat and brother the help they need, and this is the thanks I get?” she continued angrily. “You’re eating and going on with your day as though nothing horrible has happened here. And you don’t care one whit that my childhood home has burned to the ground, along with all my memories and treasures.”

  Reuben shrugged as he accepted the generous piece of lasagna Molly served him. “Your mother and I told you several times over the years that you should claim your stuff from the attic,” he reminded her. “Your brother and the boys and I lost everything, too, you know. But we’re moving forward, thankful that Pete and other friends have jumped in to put a new roof over our heads. We’ll be fine, Sadie. Right where we are. Right where we belong.”

  “Jah, we like it at Molly and Marietta’s house,” Billy Jay said proudly. “Marietta’s helpin’ me with my schoolwork—and she lets me work in the noodle factory, too! And Levi stops cryin’ when she picks him up, just like she was his mamm.”

  Glenn’s face registered an emotion Pete couldn’t quite interpret—and Sadie wasn’t about to let it pass.

  “So that’s the way of it, Glenn? You’ve taken up with the Helfing sisters?” she blurted. “Your wife—and our mamm—are hardly cold in the ground and you’re cavorting with—”

  “Stop right there, Sadie Shank.” Molly stood stock-still, pointing her sauce-smeared metal spatula. “We’ll have no such talk in front of Billy Jay—”

  “And I won’t tolerate what you’re suggesting about Glenn or about the twins,” Pete interrupted sternly. “If you can’t control your tongue, you should leave right now.”

  The words had rushed from Pete’s mouth before he realized he’d jumped into the Detweilers’ fray. For several moments, the only sound was the whistle of the wind outside.

  Jude gripped his plate, nodding in support of what the others had said. Billy Jay reached for Molly, and she immediately stooped to wrap her arm around him. Reuben pressed his mouth into a thin, tight line, as though he might never speak to his daughter again.

  And poor Norman looked mortified. He gingerly placed his hand on his wife’s arm. “It’s like I tried to tell you, Sadie,” he murmured. “Your family doesn’t need your help—”

  “When Dat needs more help than you can give him, don’t you dare come running to me, Glenn!” Sadie blurted, jerking away from her husband’s grasp. “Fine. We’ll go home. My work here is finished.”

  With a scalding glare, Sadie stalked out of the house. Her older children had gathered outside the doorway, and with a few cross words, she steered them toward the double buggy at the road.

  The babies in the baskets were starting to fuss, so Norman picked them up with a sigh. “I’m sorry, folks,” he said beneath their crying. “Sadie’s been spinning like a top ever since she heard about the fire. I’m glad you’ve picked up the pieces so you can move forward.”

  “Denki for checking on us, Norm,” Glenn said quietly. “Sorry about the shouting match. I’m as much to blame as my sister, and you got caught in the middle again.”

  With a resigned shrug, Sadie’s husband stepped outside as his little twins began to cry in earnest. In the kitchen area, Pete and everyone around him relaxed, visibly releasing the tension created by the Detweilers’ confrontation.

  Reuben, however, put his plate on the card table. He sat down on a pallet of shingles in the far corner, his elbows on his knees. His head dropped forward.

  “That whole scene was just wrong,” he said in a broken voice. “I’ve prayed for years—and Elva did, too—that God would help us resolve the differences that have separated us from Sadie. But He hasn’t answered us yet.”

  Glenn sat down beside his dat, slinging his arm around his stooped, shaking shoulders. “She really did want to help us,” he said quietly. “But maybe God’s showing us once again that Sadie’s way and our way will never be the same.”

  Reuben’s sad sigh filled the room. “At least your mamm wasn’t here to go through this again.”

  “But I’m here, Dawdi,” Billy Jay put in as he, too, sat down beside Reuben. He wrapped his two little hands around his grandfather’s weathered, gnarled one. “And we got all these friends watchin’ out for us—like angels, ain’t so?”

  The boy’s face lit up with a wonderful idea. “They’re just like the angels that came outta the sky when Jesus was born, sayin’ ‘Fear not!’ to the shepherds!” he continued in a rush. “Coz God doesn’t want us to be afraid—or lonely. Coz He’s with us all the time, jah?”

  Pete’s throat got so tight he couldn’t speak—not that he could top what Billy Jay had just said. In all his years of sliding onto a back pew bench on Sunday mornings because he’d been out too late on Saturday night, he couldn’t recall a sermon that had affected him as deeply as this child’s simple statement of faith.

  “You got that exactly right, Billy Jay,” Molly replied quietly. “When we take care of each other the way Jesus intended, He and God are with us. Right here in your new house.”

  The little boy gazed around the tops of the bare wooden studs as though hoping to see a flicker of movement or a telltale shadow that belonged to God. As the clouds outside shifted and the sun shone through a window, the kitchen area glimmered with a burst of light.

  “Wow,” the little guy whispered. “He really is here. I can feel Him!”

  Once again Pete stood in awe of the childlike faith that had totally changed the atmosphere for everyone gathered around. He still felt bad about the Detweilers’ family dynamics, yet he sensed that Glenn, Reuben, and Billy Jay were already healing after their unfortunate encounter with Sadie.

  He took another bite of his forgotten lasagna. It had almost grown cold, but it was still so good, he found himself wishing he lived at the Helfing place again.

  It struck him then: during the fracas with Sadie, he’d forgotten to be envious of Glenn—or suspicious of his friend’s feelings for Molly. Moments ago, however, Molly had been the first to jump in and put Sadie in her place. Was it because she liked Glenn best?

  If she does, maybe I need to change that. I went to Molly’s defense, too, after all—and it was a perfectly natural thing to do. If Glenn is winning Molly over, it’s because I’m allowing him to.

  Noting that Jude had finished his lunch and Glenn was nearly ready to return to work, Pete jammed another forkful of lasagna into his mouth. He hated to rush through such a wonderful meal, but now that they weren’t moving around he was starting to feel cold in the unheated house—and Molly had to be getting chilly, as well.

  “I—I was surprised to see you delivering lunch today, Molly, since these December Saturdays must be really busy at your Marketplace store,” he remarked, scraping the last bite from his plate. As another realization dawned on him, Pete glanced at Glenn, too. “And who’s keeping your wood shop open? This is a prime time to be selling your wooden toys, ain’t so?”

  Glenn licked the last trace of tomato sauce from his fork. “Bishop Jeremiah stepped in for me, because I really wanted to be working on our new house. And his mamm was kind enough to watch baby Levi today so the twins could be at The Marketplace. Gotta love those Shetlers,” he added with a smile for Jude.

  “And when Lydi
anne said she’d rather help Marietta in our shop than cover her lunch shift for you fellows today, I took her up on her offer,” Molly explained. “I’ll be going over to The Marketplace from here, so—”

  “Can I go, too?” Billy Jay pleaded, hopping up from the pallet. “I could help ya sell noodles!”

  Molly nodded. “It would probably be a gut idea for you to get in out of the cold—and how about you, Reuben? I bet Martin and Gabe would welcome your help today.”

  “Or they’ll at least have a comfortable place for you to sit—and maybe take a nap,” Glenn teased gently. “It’s no secret that Martin sneaks a few winks back in the corner. You two guys have been a great help to us today, so you deserve a break.”

  “Yay! Me and you, Dawdi,” Billy Jay said, hopping from one foot to the other. “We can see all those folks at The Marketplace and drink some of Jo’s spiced cider, jah?”

  Reuben rose slowly from the stack of shingles, wincing because his legs had stiffened. “You talked me into it.”

  A short while later, Pete followed Jude and Glenn up the ladder to start closing in the roof. It felt good to see such progress—especially considering Sadie’s unanticipated interruption. Even more interesting, however, was the way Molly, Reuben, and little Billy Jay walked toward her rig, nodding and talking among themselves.

  They look like a family.

  Pete blinked. If he was to win Molly’s affection, Glenn wasn’t his only competition, was he? A bright, eager little boy and a needy widower seemed to be capturing her heart without any effort at all . . .

  Chapter 10

  Jo stepped out of her bakery to tape a sign to the entry post. She was amazed at the noise level in the commons area as shoppers passed from store to store with their bulging sacks and wide smiles. Never in her wildest dreams had she envisioned such a crowd at The Marketplace—and it was only December seventh, the first Saturday of the month.

  “Sold out?” an English woman read from behind her. “But I wanted to buy some of those adorable decorated cookies I’ve seen other folks carrying around.”

  Jo smiled apologetically. “I baked all week to prepare for today’s crowd, but I had no idea how many folks would be here,” she said. “I’m really sorry to disappoint you—”

  “Would you take an order? I’m hosting a Christmas party next Saturday evening,” the lady said eagerly. “A big tray of your cookies and one of those Christmas trees I saw—made of pineapple cream cheese rolls—would be perfect! I’ll even pay you for it right now!”

  Jo blinked. Knowing she’d be gone for a day and a half this week made her hesitate, but the customer’s pleading expression won out. “Okay, let’s write up an order, and I’ll have those items wrapped and ready for you when you get here next Saturday.”

  “Oh, thank you! Thank you!”

  A few minutes—and more than a hundred dollars—later, Jo was staring at the list of specific decorated cookies the lady had rattled off, as well as the filled sweet rolls baked in the shape of a Christmas tree, and an entire sheet cake pan of brownies topped with crushed peppermints. Jo would have to ask Michael to start back from Queen City at the crack of dawn on Tuesday so she’d have all afternoon to start baking for next Saturday’s crush of customers—

  “That’s a mighty sparkly smile on your face, Miss Jo, considering that you’ve run out of goodies to sell. What’s really on your mind?”

  Jo chuckled at Lydianne Christner, who was gazing at the empty shelves of her bakery cases. These days, as Lydianne anticipated her marriage to Bishop Jeremiah—and moving into a completely remodeled home—the pretty blonde sported a very sparkly smile, too. “Well, truth be told—”

  “Hold up! I want to hear this!” Molly peered through the slatted divider that separated the bakery from the noodle shop. “Marietta and I have seen that grin on your face, too, Jo. There’s something you’re not telling us, ain’t so?”

  “A secret? I can’t miss out on this!” Regina Flaud chimed in from the furniture shop on the other side of the bakery.

  Before she could decide whether to respond or to keep her news to herself for fear of jinxing her trip to Queen City, Jo found herself surrounded by three of her closest friends. And Marietta was watching eagerly from between the slats of the noodle shop’s divider, as well.

  Jo shrugged, feigning ignorance. “I don’t know what you think you’ve seen—”

  “Hey, this is us you’re talking to, Miss Fussner!” Molly teased. “Stall all you want, but we know something’s going on—right, girls?”

  “Oh, jah,” redheaded Regina replied, playfully tugging at Jo’s sleeve. “I’ve been embroidering my linens here for the past few Saturdays, sitting where I have a direct view into Jo’s bakery. She’s got something a lot more fun than baking on her mind, if you ask me.”

  Jo’s cheeks blazed. Was she really so easy to read? “All right, so Michael—”

  “Aha!”

  “He’s coming out of his shell?”

  “High time he did something besides gawk at you!”

  Jo’s mouth dropped open. Apparently her friends had seen this coming—and wasn’t it nice to hear their excitement? Her mother had nothing but discouraging words about Jo’s desire to go to Queen City.

  The glow on her face felt fragile yet so appropriate. Wouldn’t any woman be happy to catch Michael’s eye? “The Wengerds have invited Mamm and me to their nursery—to see the thousands of poinsettias blooming in their greenhouses,” she added quickly. “And I—I said I’d do it, even though Mamm refuses to make the trip.”

  “You go, girl!” Molly blurted, clapping her hand on Jo’s back.

  “Michael’s such a nice guy,” Regina put in. “Oh, but this is gut news, Jo.”

  “When are you going?” Lydianne asked eagerly. “I bet that’ll be quite a sight, seeing all those poinsettias—”

  “As though she’ll be looking at the flowers,” Marietta teased from the noodle shop.

  As her circle of friends laughed, Jo felt so light and happy, she wasn’t sure her feet were still on the floor. “We’ll leave first thing tomorrow,” she replied in a rush. “This evening I’ll have to pack—I just wish I had some newer dresses—and I’m sure Mamm’ll lecture me again about how I shouldn’t fall for Michael’s attention—”

  “Why not?” Lydianne broke in. “The Wengerds are two of the nicest men I know.”

  “Just because your mamm’s a stay-at-home doesn’t mean you have to be!” Regina assured her. “If Nelson’s in on the invitation, he’s trying to get your mother out for some fun, as well, right?”

  Jo sighed. “Fun? Do you suppose Mamm even knows the meaning of that word?” she asked softly. “She believes the Wengerds—men in general—say whatever it takes to get a gal to hitch up with them, and after the wedding it’s all downhill. And it’s a cruel joke from the beginning, the way she tells it.”

  Her friends’ eyebrows rose. Each of their dear faces took on a puzzled expression.

  “Any idea where that attitude came from?” Lydianne asked. “I didn’t know your dat very well, but I never got the idea that he’d trapped your mamm.”

  “Me, neither,” Molly put in with a shake of her head.

  Embarrassed to have her friends dissecting her parents’ marriage, Jo shrugged. “I don’t know,” she whispered. “But when Mamm insinuated that the Wengerds were up to no gut—while they were sitting right there at the dinner table with us—I wanted to disappear through a crack in the floor.”

  Her friends sighed sympathetically.

  “Well, I’m glad you spoke up for yourself,” Regina murmured. “And I hope you have a wonderful-gut time!”

  “Jah, that’s the important thing,” Molly agreed. “Maybe—if you and Michael hit it off during your visit—you’ll prove your mamm’s got it all wrong.”

  “We’re with you a hundred and ten percent, Jo!” Marietta said from the divider. “If nothing else, it’ll be nice to visit another town and enjoy the pretty drive between here a
nd Queen City.”

  “It’ll give you two some time to really talk,” Lydianne put in. “You’re both so busy here on Saturdays—and your parents are always within earshot at your house. Maybe this’ll be the chance to break out of that pattern, just you and Michael.”

  Jo hoped they were right. And wasn’t it better to believe the positive things her friends were saying than to assume her mamm’s dire predictions would come true?

  “Denki for your thoughts,” Jo said. “I’ll need all the prayers I can get if this visit’s to work any Christmas magic for Michael and me.”

  “Christmas magic,” Regina echoed with a grin. “Hold that thought, Jo!”

  * * *

  By the time Glenn drove into the stable at the Helfing place, it was nearly six thirty. He’d worked past dark, because the huge lights their Mennonite friends had provided had lit up the house site like daylight, and he hadn’t felt right about stopping work before Pete and Jude. As they’d hoped, they’d gotten the roof completely covered with boards. While his friends had picked up their tools, Glenn had loaded a few bales of hay and a bag of feed into his rig so he wouldn’t deplete the twins’ winter supply for their horses.

  He was cold and bone-tired and hungry. Everything took longer than he wanted it to, so he hurried—not wanting to make supper any later than he already had. When Glenn stumbled over a stone that stuck up in the Helfings’ uneven, unfamiliar walkway, he cried out in frustration as he hit the ground.

  For a few moments he lay there in the darkness, catching his breath. He felt stupid for falling, and his palm stung where he’d scraped it on a rough stone—and he was lucky he hadn’t banged his face on the walkway and knocked out a tooth.

  But Glenn didn’t feel lucky. He was exhausted. His thumb throbbed because his hands had gotten too cold up on the roof and he’d banged it with his hammer. He wanted to curl up in a ball and let the world leave him behind—at least until morning.