An Amish Country Christmas

by Hubbard, Charlotte; King, Naomi

  Nothing about meeting these boys has been traditional all day. So what’s to lose by trying for more, instead of waiting for Nate to take the lead?

  Martha’s heart pounded. If she slipped her arm along the back of the seat—

  “Beautiful night,” Nate murmured.

  She jerked her arm back into her lap. “Jah. Jah, it is.”

  “Sorry if I’ve gone quiet on you.”

  And how did she respond to that? Martha bit back a retort, willing him to look at her. Maybe if she could catch his eye, as she’d done several times today, Nate would figure out what she wanted. “Best sometimes to think things through rather than blurting them out.”

  “Jah. Exactly.”

  Oh, but the steam was about to come out her ears from exasperation! Martha inhaled the frosty air to settle herself, wondering if she liked Nate’s silence better than this conversation that was going nowhere . . . just as their relationship seemed to be. Maybe if she’d chosen Bram instead . . . “Nate, is there something wrong? Did I say something that upset you?” she demanded.

  As he gazed at her, the heavy clip-clop! clip-clop! of Clyde’s hooves, along with the jingle of his harness bells, again filled the space between them. “Nope. Why would you be thinking that?”

  “Well—” Martha’s breath shot out in a stream of vapor. “You were plenty chatty enough in the mercantile, and while we were putting your beds together and—”

  “That was Bram doing most of the talking. I’ve just been . . . enjoying the way this fine sleigh glides through the snow,” he murmured. “Guess I’m more used to spending my time with horses.”

  “So are you going to kiss your horse gut-night, then, instead of me?”

  Martha immediately regretted smarting off that way. Yet when Nate’s mouth dropped open, she crossed another line—reached up to hold his face so she could give him the kiss that had simmered inside her all day. She sat taller, pressing her lips to his, and for a long, blissful moment Nate kissed her back. Oh, but she longed to reach inside his coat and feel the warmth of his strong, muscular body.

  Then he pulled away with a gasp. “If that’s what you wanted, Martha—”

  “Jah, and why wouldn’t I?”

  “—well, I was just biding my time,” Nate continued nervously, “thinking to pass muster with your dat before I got my hopes up about you and me—”

  “So were you going to kiss Dat gut-night, then, too?” she blurted. “I’m feeling a little left out here, Nate, what with you sitting like a bump on a—oh, just take me home. I’m tired and I can’t recall ever being this cold in my life.”

  She shouldn’t have snapped at him that way. Nate was being respectful, not rushing into words or actions they might later regret—and he would know about that, and how much it hurt. But what was wrong with having a little fun on such a perfect moonlit night? Joining the church didn’t mean you put your happiness away and forgot how to laugh. Or kiss.

  Oh, forget it. If he wasn’t in the mood before, you’ve talked him out of cuddling now, for sure and for certain.

  Not another word passed between them. Nate’s mouth remained in a set line as he gazed at the snowy road and steered Clyde into the lane leading toward the house. When he stopped, Martha jumped down. No sense in waiting with hopeful anticipation in the kitchen or front room while he unhitched his horse and set out some feed. She removed her shoes, got a glass of water, and went on upstairs to get ready for bed. It wasn’t even midnight, so Mary and Bram were probably still out in his buggy, laughing and having a fine time.

  You should’ve picked Bram . . .

  Everyone was in bed, so Martha ascended the stairs carefully, avoiding the squeaky spots. When she saw dim light shining under the door of the room she shared with Mary, as well as the next bedroom where their guests would sleep, she paused in the hallway. Had Bram lit his lantern and then gone in to be with her sister? Not an uncommon way for Plain kids to date, but it made things awkward when you shared a room.

  Martha listened at the door for a moment, and then eased it open. Mary sat cross-legged on her bed. She was in her nightgown, with her auburn hair falling forward like a curtain as she held her head in her hands. It was a sorrowful sight, and Martha set her water on the nightstand to kneel at her sister’s bedside.

  “What’s wrong, Sister?” she whispered. “I figured you and Bram were still—”

  “Oh, but we’re in deep trouble.” Mary grabbed Martha’s hands with trembling fingers. Her face was wet with tears. “We went into Preacher Abe’s stable to get warm and, well . . . he caught us rolling in the hay, kissing.”

  Martha blinked. “Well, it’s not fun to get caught. But kissing’s not a sin, either.”

  Mary squeezed her eyes shut. “He heard Bram saying how he wanted to jump the fence—with me—to start his own auction business,” she explained in a tiny voice. “I’m just waiting to hear Abe pounding at the door, waking up the parents. Or maybe he’ll barge in on our breakfast to tell them what he overheard. I’m on pins and needles, Martha, and I can’t seem to settle down.”

  Martha wrapped her arms around her twin’s waist and hugged her hard. “Bram’s done enough talking for both brothers then,” she murmured. “I couldn’t pry three words out of Nate. Finally got so frustrated I kissed him, and now he’s not speaking to me at all. Never figured on such a cold, boring sleigh ride, and now things will be really chilly around here.”

  Mary blinked back her tears. “Maybe we should tell them to go home. Maybe right now.”

  With a sigh, Martha stood up. “Jah, and I’m just the one to send them packing, too, if it wouldn’t wake everybody up. Maybe they’ll have the sense to leave without us saying anything.”

  A loud creak on the stairway made them stop talking as they listened for Nate to walk past their room. When he had entered the next bedroom and shut the door, Martha looked purposefully at her sister. She gulped some of her water and poured the rest on the philodendron in the window. Then, with the glass against the wall, she listened for what the boys might be saying. Mary came to stand beside her, and with their heads together they could both hear the conversation.

  “. . . putty in my hands, I’m tellin’ ya,” Bram boasted with a low chuckle. “A fine little filly, Mary is, and we’re lookin’ to have a lot of fun these next couple of days.”

  Mary’s jaw dropped as she gaped at Martha. They kept quiet, though, so as not to miss anything else they needed to know about how their evening had supposedly gone—and what the Kanagy brothers thought would happen next.

  “Jah, Martha’s a feisty one, too,” Nate remarked. “She likes it that I’m established in my horse training business, and already a member of the church, too. Not that we were talking about church while she was kissing on me.”

  Martha clapped her hand over her mouth to keep from responding aloud. She and Mary stepped away from the wall, shaking their heads. “Can you believe they were saying—why, that’s the same sort of horse hockey I’ve heard from the boys at our Singings, bragging about their dates.”

  “Puh!” Mary said with flashing eyes. “If Bram thinks I’m a filly, maybe he needs to step in some you-know-what! Might take him down a peg or two!”

  “Right you are, Sister.” Martha crossed her arms and glared toward the wall between them and the Kanagy brothers. “They need a lesson in respect and humility, for sure and for certain. And I’m thinking we’re just the girls to teach them.”

  Chapter Six

  Nate descended the stairs while it was still dark, partly because he hadn’t slept well for recalling last night’s fiasco. Mostly, though, the aromas of bacon, coffee, and other heavenly dishes called him to start the day at the table with the Coblentz family. Most mornings, he and his brother ate breakfast at the Sweet Seasons Bakery Café because his Aunt Miriam fed them in exchange for the fresh vegetables and honey his mamm provided her. It was nice not to have to walk down a long, snowy lane to eat . . . even though everyone in Martha’s family would b
e eyeballing him, checking him over.

  He stopped in the kitchen doorway. What a homey sight, watching Martha and Mary, dressed in identical forest green dresses and white aprons, set plates on the long table. Mrs. Coblentz was stirring a skillet of fried apples while young Joanna placed bacon on a platter. The girl turned, grinning at him.

  “I know when you got home last night!” she teased. “Heard your sleigh bells.”

  Nate nodded, almost wishing he’d not indulged himself in such a noisy piece of tack. “And gut morning to you, too, missy,” he replied evenly. “Still remember your poem for tonight?”

  “Got it down perfect. Wanna hear?”

  Her mother laughed and elbowed her playfully. “I think we all know it as well as you do, daughter, after listening to it so many times yesterday. Hope you and your brother like breakfast haystacks, Nate. We’ll be sitting down soon as Amos and Owen get in from loading their truck.”

  “Jah, saw we had a couple of busted windows in the house we’re building,” a male voice said from the mudroom. Then a tall, dark-haired man stepped into the kitchen with his shoes in his hand. “Even with it being Christmas Eve, we want to get those fixed so the snow won’t get in. Amos Coblentz. Pleased to meet you.”

  Nate shook the hand he extended. “Denki for letting my brother and me stay over. I’m Nate Kanagy, and Bram’s coming along behind me.”

  “Jah, that would be me!” His brother entered the kitchen with his hair still wet from a quick shower, buttoning a heavy shirt of pink, purple and black plaid that hung loose over his snug black jeans. “Yesterday was quite a day, pickin’ up our new rides at the Graber shop and then meetin’ up with your girls. Awfully nice of you folks to put us up—and put up with us.”

  Within minutes, they had also met Owen, the eldest son, who built houses with his dat, and Noah, who was apprenticed at the carriage shop. It was quite a sight to see so many redheads at one table, for he, Bram, and Amos were the only ones with dark hair. But it was the girl sitting across from him that Nate paid particular attention to. When she smiled, her eyes seemed cautious yet hopeful, as though she hoped they could make a fresh start today.

  As they passed around bowls of hash browns, fried onions, and chunks of ham, everyone began the “haystack” that would fill his or her plate. Nate piled on the green pepper strips, crumbled bacon, and stewed tomatoes, his stomach rumbling. “Oh, but this looks gut,” he remarked as he ladled cheese sauce over the top of the small mountain of food he’d taken. There was barely room for a big spoonful of fried apples, which dripped with melted butter and cinnamon, and a fresh biscuit. “And how might Bram and I help you folks today? Need to do something to earn our keep.”

  “Well, I’ll be mucking out the stalls and forking clean straw down from the loft,” Mary said, widening her eyes at Bram.

  “And we’ll need wood chopped and hauled in,” Martha continued, “while I’ll be helping get our dinner for tomorrow ready—”

  “Jah, tomorrow might be our birthday but we’ll be having the usual quiet, worshipful Christmas Day,” Mary explained. “So the cooking and redding up get done today, before we all go to the program at the schoolhouse after supper.”

  Nate glanced at his brother, whose eyes were half closed in ecstasy as he stuffed another forkful of breakfast into his mouth. While it surprised him a bit that Mary would be choring in the barn while Martha cooked, it seemed only fair that the sisters traded off doing the outside chores while the men were off working.

  “Happy to chop that wood for you,” Nate said, smiling to himself. Bram had grown up swearing he would find an occupation that didn’t require him to shovel manure, the way their dat did with the sheep and horses at home, so it would be interesting to see how he handled barn duty today.

  Bram, however, nodded good-naturedly. “Count on me to be out in the barn,” he said as he reached for another biscuit. His smile for Mary held a secret or two, and she returned it. “It’s the least we can do to thank you for feedin’ us and our horses.”

  “That’ll be just fine then,” Amos said with a satisfied nod. From the head of the table he smiled at Nate and Bram. “Mighty nice having surprise guests for Christmas this year. With all of us getting our work done today, why, the next couple of days off will be a gut opportunity to get to know you fellows better.”

  “And what did your mamm say about you staying over?” Nell asked as she started the bowls around again. “You did call her, jah?”

  “Aunt Beulah Mae saw to that right off,” Nate replied, gratified when everyone around the table laughed.

  “And jah, Mamm called on my cell to let me know it was, um—a bit of a surprise to her, too, our stayin’ here,” Bram remarked with a roll of his eyes. “But she and Dat send their best wishes to all of you for a wonderful-gut Christmas.”

  Nate glanced across the table at Martha, noting again how she seemed to search his eyes for . . . what? Forgiveness for her snit? A chance to kiss and make up? More than he cared to admit, he’d enjoyed Martha’s bold kiss last night . . . the sweet tingle of peppermint on her lips and tongue. He smiled at her, indeed hoping that today they could redeem their new friendship and go forward. “Wouldn’t be Christmas without a surprise here and there, ain’t so?”

  “Do you think Bram suspects he’ll be choring with you instead of with me?” Mary whispered. She and Martha had disappeared into the cellar after breakfast, to bring up jars of food for today’s meals and tomorrow’s Christmas dinner.

  Martha’s grin turned catlike. “I think we’ve got them fooled so far. I’ll just explain that you and I take turns at the outdoor chores.”

  “And don’t forget to look outside now and again, watching for Preacher Abe,” Mary suggested. “It’s gut he hasn’t come over here, but now we’re waiting for the other shoe to drop, ain’t so?”

  “It’ll all work out, Sister. After all, it’s not you Abe’s peeved at. It’s his nephew,” Martha pointed out. “Could be he’s called Bram’s folks, so they’re ready to give him a talking-to when he gets home.”

  Mary placed jars of cherry pie filling, vegetable soup, and sliced peaches in her basket while her sister pulled a ham and a couple of ducks from the deep freeze. “Guess I hadn’t thought about it that way.” Then she chuckled. “We’ll see whether Nate helps me around the house or runs off looking for more horsey business after he chops the wood.”

  “Jah, well, they’re both in horsey up to their knees, far as I’m concerned,” Martha replied as she glanced up the cellar steps. “Are you into this switch for the whole day, then?”

  “We can’t very well change horses in the middle of the stream,” Mary quipped. “Can’t let them suspect what we’re up to, either, or we’ll never hear the end of it—from them and the folks, as well.”

  “We have to be careful in front of the brothers and Joanna, too. She’s the one most likely to figure us out.” Martha clutched her cold, bulky packages, which were wrapped in butcher’s paper. “Better be getting back up there, or they’ll be wondering what we’re up to. Be a gut girl now, Martha.”

  “You, too, Mary!”

  Chapter Seven

  As they followed the crowd into the Cedar Creek schoolhouse, Bram held tightly to Mary’s sturdy hand. Back home in Willow Ridge, his family and all the folks in town would be squeezing into a one-room building very much like this one for the annual Christmas program the scholars put on—not that his mind was on recitations about the Christ child. His happiness had a keen edge to it, even after a day of mucking out stalls and scrubbing water troughs. Mary’s laughter still rang in his mind from when they’d been horsing around a bit, tossing more clean straw at each other than into the stalls, while the horses had looked on with their ears pricked up.

  Oh, but this redhead was keeping him in suspense! He couldn’t wait to get her into the courting buggy again, to disappear into the night with the Christmas lights aglow and Mary snuggled against him. She had seemed more spirited today, and Bram was a little sur
prised that she hadn’t been stewing over what Uncle Abe had said last night. He’d thought of ways to comfort her—to convince her he deserved another chance—but then again, life was too short to spend their rumspringa fearing the hellfire and damnation the preachers promised to those who turned their backs on the Old Order church.

  “There’s James Graber,” he murmured, waving across the room.

  As the carriage maker returned his smile, Mary said, “Jah, and that gal beside him is Abby Lambright. We’re thinking they’ll tie the knot just any day now. High time, too!”

  Bram recalled the pretty woman beside James as the one he’d seen sewing in the loft of the mercantile yesterday. He squeezed Mary’s hand, thinking how happy James looked . . . how settled and contented. Would he feel that way someday? Maybe with Mary Coblentz?

  Waaaay too soon to be thinking about that, his thoughts teased. Yet, considering all the girls he’d dated, he couldn’t think that he would’ve enjoyed mucking out stalls with any of them. While Mary hadn’t succumbed to his hints about getting cozy in the loft where no one would see them, she had sent him plenty of signals that she was eager to ride with him tonight after the program. Considering how he’d figured her for more of the cooking and sewing type, she had kept up with him every step of the way as they’d shoveled manure, pitched straw for the floors, and hauled fresh hay bales to the stalls.