An Unexpected Joy

by Ruth Reid

  Micah greeted Abigail’s father, brothers, and James in the sitting room, then made his way to the kitchen. Falling in love had set his nerves on edge, and he wouldn’t be able to sit through dinner without talking to her first.

  “Abigail, do you have a minute?”

  She stopped blotting a wet spot on her dress and tossed the dish towel on the counter. “Oh, hello, Micah.”

  He rubbed his moist hands on his pant legs, glanced at his grandmother and Mrs. Kemp, and nervously smiled. “Merry Christmas.”

  Abigail’s mother bounded off the chair. “Merry Christmas, Micah. Can I make you a cup of kaffi or tea?”

  “Maybe later. If you don’t mind, I’d like to take Abigail on a short ride.”

  “Nau?” Abigail interrupted. “The turkey is almost done.”

  “I won’t keep her long,” he said.

  Mamm exchanged glances with Edith, then nodded. “Dinner won’t be ready for a while.”

  Abigail was fussing with the spot on her dress again when he removed her cloak from the hook and handed it to her.

  “Mamm will pluck you like a turkey if we’re late for dinner,” Abigail warned as they left the house. She glanced upward and smiled. “It’s snowing. Of course, I don’t have to point that out to you.”

  He reached for her elbow, then guided her to the sleigh parked next to his buggy. “Would you like to go for a ride?”

  “Jah.” Her eyes lit with excitement. “Daed puts the runners on the buggy when the snow gets too deep, but I’ve never ridden in an open sleigh.”

  He untied the mare’s reins from the post. “This here is Mammi’s old horse, Sugarplum.”

  “She’s beautiful.” Abigail patted the horse’s neck. “Hello, Sugarplum.”

  Micah brushed the light dusting of snow off the bench, then helped Abigail into the sleigh. “I thought we would take a ride down to the pond,” he said, signaling the horse.

  Hearing her teeth chatter, he reached behind the seat for the blanket. “This should keep you warm.”

  “Danki.”

  Sugarplum plodded along the snow-covered trail. He stopped the sleigh at the edge of the pond and they sat quietly for a couple minutes. “I’m going to miss nett seeing you at the haus.”

  “I promised Edith I would stop by and visit.”

  “Just Mammi?”

  “And you . . . if you’re nett in your shop. We both know how you don’t like to be bothered when you’re—”

  He brushed his hand over her cheek.

  “Working,” she said, breathlessly. “I, ah . . . I wouldn’t inter . . . fere.”

  He leaned closer, his attention focused on her lips. “Are you going to keep talking?”

  “It is a problem . . . I have . . . sometimes.”

  He captured her mouth with a long kiss. Her lips were soft and moved with his. Placing his hand around her back, he pressed her closer. He trailed kisses across her cheek.

  “What was . . . I saying?” Her voice broke.

  “That you talk a lot,” he whispered in her ear.

  “Is that a problem?”

  “Nett anymore.” He kissed her temple. “I know how to quiet you nau.” He kissed her on the lips, this time possessively.

  “I think I might talk all the time.”

  “Jah, you do that.” His lips found hers once again, and when he had kissed her so much that his lips tingled, he placed his arm around her shoulder and she nestled in the crook of his arm. “Are you kalt?” he asked, squeezing her a little tighter.

  “Nay.” He pointed to left. “You see that hill in the distance?”

  “It’s your father’s land, I know.”

  “He gave it to me. I’m going to build a haus on it this spring, so I can look out mei window and watch you skate in the winter.”

  “You’re welcome to skate with me.”

  He shifted slightly in order to gaze into her eyes. “In the summer you can look out your window and watch me fish.”

  “Mei window?” Her brows lifted.

  He nodded. “Unless you’d like to go fishing, but I’ll warn you, I get up early.”

  She sat up straight. “What are you saying?”

  “I love you, Gabby Abby. I want you to be mei fraa.”

  Her eyes glistened with tears. “But you said just the other nacht there wasn’t an Amish man who would want—”

  He kissed her hard, convincingly. “I was wrong.” He kissed the tip of her cold nose. “Tell me you love me. That you will be mei fraa.”

  “Yes, yes, yes, yes. Should I go on?”

  He wrapped her in a tight embrace. “Yes, go on. I love hearing those words.” He held her a few minutes longer before releasing her. “We should probably get back to the haus. I don’t want mei future fraa’s mamm upset with me.”

  “After what you did for Thomas, there’s no chance of that.”

  Micah extended the reins to her. “Would you like to drive home?”

  “I’ve never driven a sleigh.”

  “She’s a gut horse, as sweet as her name,” he said. “As sweet as her new owner.”

  Abigail crinkled her brows.

  “I attached a bow to her harness, but it fell off on the way here.” He shrugged. “She’s a bit awkward to wrap in brown paper, but I hope you like her.”

  “You bought me a horse?” Abigail gasped.

  He nodded. “Mammi mentioned you wanted a horse more than anything. Something about your independence . . .” He placed his hand over hers. “I hope this makes you happy, Gabby Abby.”

  “I’ve never been happier.” She placed her free hand on her chest, breathing heavily. “I might burst!”

  Micah chuckled. “Does that mean you’ll still want to marry me? I mean—nau that you have your independence.”

  She blinked and tears rolled down her face. “I’ll marry you today, Micah Zook. Today! Well, maybe nett today. Your parents are nett back in town. Oh . . .” Her eyes widened. “I only made you a pair of socks for Christmas.”

  He grinned. “But you’ve shared your gift of gab with me throughout this entire Christmas season.” A chuckle erupted he couldn’t contain.

  She pulled back. “Are you making fun of me again?”

  He brought her back into his arms. “I don’t ever want you to change,” he said, pulling her closer. “I love you just the way you are.”

  DISCUSSION QUESTIONS

  1. Abigail admittedly talked too much, and even claimed God had given her a gift of gab. Do you think she used her gift to edify and encourage people with positive talk? There are a lot of hurting people around us; what might you say to uplift someone today?

  2. How did Micah’s grandmother play a part in getting Abigail and Micah together? Did Abigail take Edith’s advice?

  3. Why was it so important to Abigail to own her own horse? Did owning the horse represent something other than transportation?

  4. Thomas suffered a brain injury while in the service, which altered his behavior. Do you think he was treated like a prodigal child who had returned home?

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  As always, I want to thank my family for their continued support. To Dan, who demonstrates unconditional love when it comes to my spending long hours in the office writing, I love you for your understanding and support. To my daughter Lexie, who used my Amish characters in her stand-up comedy routine. I’m glad the comedy-club audience got a kick out of your “plain” humor. To Danny, the new licensed driver in the family, I’ll be expecting you to do the post office runs
to mail out books. To Sarah, you’re an awesome cheerleader—not just for PHS. You are a constant source of encouragement, and I am so thankful to have you as a prayer partner.

  To my parents, Paul Droste and Ella Roberts, thank you for your unconditional love and support. For those of you who don’t know my mother, she’s got the gift of gab. Mom has always said that God gave her the gift of gab and she was going to use it. And she does! You spread sunshine wherever you are.

  To my editors, Becky Philpott and Natalie Hanemann, you two are the best! Your skills brought this book to life. To my agent, Susan Brower, I look forward to churning out many more books with you. I’d like to also thank Daisy Hutton, Vice President and Publisher for HarperCollins, and the entire publishing team for believing in me and making this story possible.

  A big thank you, dear readers, for your encouraging notes and comments on Facebook.

  Above all, thanks be to God, the almighty author of my life!

  Recipes

  LEXIE’S CHILI

  15 ounce can of black beans

  15 ounce can of dark kidney beans

  15 ounce can of light kidney beans

  15 ounce can of chili beans

  20 ounce can of chopped tomatoes (I like the fire roasted)

  1–2 lbs of ground beef

  1 tablespoon of Chili powder

  1 tablespoon of Cumin powder

  1 tablespoon of Red pepper powder

  1 small chopped onion (I skip this—not an onion fan)

  1 Hershey’s chocolate bar

  Fry hamburger meat and chopped onions in a skillet. Drain the grease.

  Add spices (Chili powder, Cumin, Red pepper powder) to the meat and stir.

  Mix together beans, tomatoes, hamburger mixture and chocolate bar in a crock-pot on low heat. Optional: cook in a large pot; simmer on low heat.

  Very good served with cornbread.

  SIMPLE-BAKE PEANUT BUT TER COOKIES

  1 cup of creamy peanut butter

  1 cup sugar

  1 egg

  ½ teaspoon Vanilla

  *¼ cup of Heath bar chips (Optional)

  Mix ingredients together. Roll dough into small balls and place on a lightly greased cookie sheet. Crisscross with fork imprint and bake at 350 degrees for 6–8 minutes or until cookies are slightly brown.

  HAZELNUT COCOA TEA BALLS

  1 stick of salted butter

  ½ cup Coconut oil

  1 cup confectioner’s sugar

  1 teaspoon vanilla

  2 ¼ cups flour

  ¼ teaspoon salt

  ¾ cup finely chopped pecans or walnuts

  1 cup unsweetened cocoa powder

  ½ cup Hazelnut international coffee powder

  Melt the butter and coconut oil. Add vanilla and salt to butter/oil. Stir in confectioner’s sugar and flour. Add nuts. Add cocoa powder and hazelnut coffee powder together and set aside. Dough will be a little dry.

  Preheat oven to 400 degrees.

  Form 1-inch balls and place on ungreased cookie sheet. Bake 8–10 minutes (right before they turn brown).

  Roll the warm cookies in the cocoa and coffee mixture.

  Serve with tea!

  Enjoy an excerpt from

  A Christmas Visitor

  by Kelly Irvin

  CHAPTER 1

  They meant well. All of them. Frannie Mast ladled another spoonful of steaming okra gumbo into her bowl. The spicy aroma tickling her nose did nothing to calm the willies in her stomach. She couldn’t help herself, her gaze wandered down the crowded table past Aenti Abigail and her self-satisfied smile to Joseph Glick sitting on the other side with Caleb and her cousins. A giggle burbled in her throat. Stop it. Be kind. Did Joseph know he had a smear of butter on his upper lip? Did he know her aunt and uncle were doing a little matchmaking? Not that they would admit it. Plain boys and girls were to find their own mates during their rumspringas with no interference from their elders.

  Apparently her situation had been deemed an exception to the rule.

  Joseph flashed Frannie a smile. A chunk of venison had found a home in a gap between his lower front teeth. She suppressed a sigh and forced a smile. None of this could be construed as his fault. She remembered Joseph from school. He had been a so-so student, but a good softball player and a hard worker. He was easy to look at, with toast-colored hair, green eyes, and tanned skin. He was also the third single man Aenti Abigail and Onkel Mordecai had invited to supper since her return to Bee County, Texas, three weeks earlier.

  It seemed more like two years had passed since her arrival in her childhood community after three years in Missouri.

  They meant well, but what were they thinking? Joseph was Leroy Glick’s son. Leroy, the bishop. Did they think Joseph would keep an eye on her, too, and report back to his father and to Mordecai, the district’s deacon? Would he keep her from going astray?

  She wouldn’t do that. If they’d give her half a chance, she’d show them.

  A fierce burning sensation assailed Frannie’s fingers. She glanced down. Gumbo dripped on her hand. The burning blush scurrying across her face had nothing to do with the soup’s heat. She dropped the ladle and grabbed her napkin, attempting to wipe the hot liquid from her fingers.

  “Ouch!” She stood. Her pine chair rocked on spindly legs, then tumbled back. “Sorry. I’m sorry.”

  “Child, you’re always spilling something.” Aenti Abigail’s fierce blue eyes matched the frown lurking below her high cheek-bones and long, thin nose. “Get it cleaned up.”

  “It’s fine. No harm done.” Deborah King leaned over and wiped up the soup with her own napkin. Something in her tone reminded Frannie of the way her favorite cousin talked to her two-year-old son, Timothy. “Stick it in some water.”

  “Rub some butter on it. It stops the sting and helps it heal.” Joseph held out the saucer with the puddle of half-melted butter that remained, still unaware it seemed of the smear on his own lip. He grinned. The venison hadn’t dislodged from his teeth. “That’s what my groossmammi used to say.”

  “Old wives’ tale.” Onkel Mordecai shook his head. His shaggy black beard, streaked with silver, bobbed. Mordecai mostly knew everything. “Water is best since we have no ice. Go on to the kitchen then.”

  Relief washed over Frannie. Escape. She whirled, stumbled over a chair leg, righted herself, and rushed into the kitchen. A tub of water sat on the counter in anticipation of the dirty dishes. She shoved her hand into it, barely aware of the stinging skin on her fingers. Gumbo stained her apron. Tomato juice from the canning frolic earlier in the day provided background color. Without looking, she knew sweat stains adorned the neck of her gray dress, like jewelry she would never wear. She was a mess as usual.

  Why did Aenti Abigail insist on having gumbo in this weather? Something about soup cooling a person off because it caused him to sweat. This had to be an Onkel Mordecai theory. He had tons of them, each stranger or funnier or more interesting than the last. At least life with him would not be boring. Which was good, because Frannie likely would spend the rest of her life in his house if she behaved like that in front of every man in the district. She wanted to marry and have babies like her cousins and her friends. Like every Plain woman.

  Why did that seem so hard for her?

  She swished both hands in the lukewarm water and stared out the window at the brown grass, wiry mesquite, live oak trees, and a huge cluster of nopals. No breeze flapped the frayed white curtains. September weather in Bee County hadn’t changed, just as nothing else had. No one who grew up here minded
hot weather. They embraced it. Still, Frannie would savor her memories of evenings in Missouri this time of year. The air steamed with heat and humidity, but huge elm, oak, hickory, and red mulberry trees populated the countryside. A breeze often kicked up the leaves in the evening hours, making it a perfect time to sit in the lawn chairs and watch the sun dip below the horizon.

  Nee, she wouldn’t think of that. Thinking of those long summer nights made her think of him.

  Rocky.

  She swallowed hard against tears that surprised her. Rocky was only a friend. He couldn’t be any more than that. Not for a faithful Plain woman such as herself. She understood what that meant even if her parents didn’t trust her to make the right choices.

  Gott, help me be good.

  “Frannie, come out here.”

  Clear notes of disapproval danced with surprise in Onkel Mordecai’s gruff voice. What had she done now? Drying her hands on a dish towel, Frannie trudged from the kitchen to the front room where her family sat, scrunched together like peas in long pods at two rough-hewn pine tables shoved together. No one looked at her when she entered the room. They all sat, not moving, staring toward the door as if mesmerized by a hideous rattlesnake coiled and ready to strike a venomous blow.

  She plowed to a stop.

  Nee. It couldn’t be.

  CHAPTER 2

  Frannie managed to clamp her mouth shut without biting her tongue. All six foot two, two hundred pounds of muscle known as Richard “Rocky” Sanders towered in the doorway. He waved his St. Louis Cardinals ball cap at her with a hand the size of a feed bucket. Acutely aware of the gazes of a dozen pairs of eyes drilling her in the back, Frannie waved a tiny half wave. Her burned fingers complained.

  Rocky cleared his throat and shuffled work boots in the size-fourteen range. “Hey, Frannie.”