by Kelly Long
Adam half-growled, half-chuckled. “To be honest, I wasn’t too sure myself until I laid eyes on her and tasted her cooking. I knew then it was a match made in heaven.”
Katie fingered the hair at the nape of her neck. She should probably say something, but they were talking about her, not to her, and she felt as if she was eavesdropping. Had Adam really thought she was desperate?
Her face grew hot with shame.
She was desperate. She was a twenty-four-year-old girl whom nobody but Adam wanted to marry. She knew exactly what they thought of her—it was exactly what she thought of herself.
“You’ve got gute taste, Adam,” Melvin said, almost as if Adam had baked the rolls and braised the venison himself.
Katie shouldn’t have been so troubled by that. It was pride, pure and simple, to crave praise for her cooking.
“Of course,” Adam said. “I always have.” He took another bite, smiled at Katie, and winked.
Adam obviously couldn’t have been more pleased. She was overjoyed.
Why did being overjoyed feel like a patch of mold growing in her chest and a rock around her neck?
After dinner, they moved to the great room, where they pulled their chairs around the card table, and Zeb laid out Life on the Farm.
If things hadn’t been going so well, Katie might have groaned out loud. She hated Life on the Farm. She didn’t like it when players went bankrupt or she couldn’t afford to buy more cows, not to mention the fact that the game could go on forever. She didn’t know if she could bear it.
She squared her shoulders and pasted a happy smile on her face to show Adam how happy she was to be with him. She’d made fudge without nuts and a lovely triple chocolate cake for dessert. Adam was sure to be thrilled. After tonight, she’d get her proposal.
Oh, what a happy day.
She eyed Adam as he sat down to play the game. What if she told him she didn’t want to play? Would it be so bad to be an old maedle?
The Wengerds were not a quiet group. Adam and his bruders were good-naturedly yelling at each other before everyone had even taken a turn. Mammi and Dawdi played as a team, and they watched, eyes wide, as Adam accused one brother and then another of cheating. The brothers in turn teased Rebekah for being such a bad player, until she collected enough money to buy several cows and nearly win the game.
“Felty, dear,” Anna said, after Zeb slapped his money onto the card table and growled while his family laughed at him. “Do you think we should buy a cow?”
After half an hour of discomfort, Katie was barely paying attention to the game when a hunter shot her last cow and she was out. It was the only good part about Life on the Farm. If she played poorly, she didn’t have to suffer through it for very long.
Adam and his siblings laughed at her for getting out, but she couldn’t help but rejoice inside. She tried to keep a weary smile from her lips as she stood up and went straight to the hook for her coat and scarf. She needed some air away from her boyfriend and his loud family. She needed to remind herself how much she didn’t want to be an old maid.
Adam glanced up. “Where are you going?”
“I thought I might get some fresh air,” she said, feeling guilty for not wanting to spend every moment she could with her boyfriend.
Though she seemed to be concentrating intently, Anna looked up from her cards. “The goats might like a visit,” she said, smiling as if she had fifty-nine cows in her hand.
“Off to lick your wounds?” Adam said, flashing her a teasing grin. He liked to tease her. It was a sign of affection. He probably sensed her low mood. How sweet of him to try to cheer her up.
She gave him a weak excuse for a smile. “You are too good of a player for me.”
Adam laughed. “I’m too good of a player for anybody.”
His brothers protested loudly, but Katie didn’t hear most of it because she quickly walked out the door and shut it behind her. She zipped up her coat and stuffed her hands into her pockets. She should have brought some gloves. She’d forgotten how cold it was today. Her breath hung in the air as she strolled down the porch steps and over the sidewalk.
Adam was going to be a wonderful-gute husband. Hadn’t he come all the way in the snowstorm to shovel their sidewalk? Didn’t he always say nice things about her cooking? Wasn’t he pleasant to look at?
The snow crunched beneath her feet. Adam was nice to look at, but she preferred blue eyes and white-yellow hair and dimples. Like Titus’s. Titus had a gute face, and he always had such an eager look about him, as if he was jumping at the chance to help his fellow man.
But Adam was nice, too.
A gust of wind blew around her ankles and rustled her dress. She squeaked as the cold air seeped through her stockings. Not ready to face the noisy Wengerds, she tromped to the barn. Anna suggested she say hello to the goats. They might enjoy the company.
She opened and shut the barn door quickly so that Beth wouldn’t have a chance to escape, just in case she had a mind to. Two propane lanterns burned brightly inside the barn. Katie had always found their hiss comforting, like rain on the roof or jam bubbling in a saucepan.
She jumped just a bit when she saw Titus sitting on a hay bale with two toothpicks in his mouth, jotting down something in a spiral-bound notebook. Her cold cheeks immediately warmed up. What a nice surprise. Titus could give her some gute advice about Adam and being an old maid. He wrote poetry all day long. Surely he knew something about love and how you knew if you were in it.
Titus sprang to his feet when he saw her, and the notebook slipped from his fingers. He attempted to catch it, whacked it with his hand, and sent it flying into the air. Beth and Judy baaed their approval when he managed to snatch it before it fell on the ground.
He quickly set the notebook on the hay bale behind him, rushed into the shadows, and pulled a chair out into the light. He dragged the chair close to a small propane space heater that sat on the floor near the Christmas goats.
“Come warm up,” he said. “You don’t want to get frostbite. A baker needs all her fingers and toes. Not that you bake with your toes, but just because you bake with your fingers doesn’t mean that toes aren’t important.”
Katie grinned. “I once checked out a book from the library about a woman who was born without arms. She did everything with her feet, including change diapers.”
“I hope she washed her toes when she was done.”
Katie giggled. “I never thought of that.”
Titus sort of helped her into the chair and then scooted the propane heater closer to her feet. “Is that warm enough? It’s wonderful cold outside.”
Katie nodded, trying not to think about why she’d gone out in the cold in the first place.
Titus smiled at her and sat back down on his hay bale. Judy hopped up and sat next to Titus with that absent look in her eyes. Titus played with Judy’s floppy ears and watched Katie as if wondering why she was out in the barn instead of at her own party.
“For sure and certain, that was a short party,” he said. “Did you have a gute time?”
She shrugged, trying valiantly to keep the tears from forming in her eyes. She added a happy lilt to her voice. Titus wouldn’t suspect a thing. “They were playing Life on the Farm, and I got out early so I decided to come and check on the goats.”
“That was wonderful nice, but you don’t need to worry about the goats. Goats like the cold weather. They like it better than the heat. That’s what they told me at the dairy.”
Beth baaed and clip-clopped over to Katie’s chair. Katie stroked Beth’s floppy ears. “I’m glad. It doesn’t seem fitting that the Christmas goats should be shivering in the cold.”
Titus seemed to snap to attention. “Hey,” he said, “how did the venison turn out? Did Adam and his family like it? It smelled wonderful-gute.”
For some reason, Titus’s question took the wind out of her—well, it took the rest of the wind out of her. She slumped and couldn’t even muster a half smile. “Ach, vell
, they liked it.” At least this time. She’d better find several good venison recipes, because she’d be cooking venison often when she married Adam.
If she married Adam.
She crossed her arms. Of course she would marry Adam. What girl wanted to be an old maid?
“I knew they’d like it. There’s nothing you cook that people don’t like.” He furrowed his brow in confusion. “Is that right how I said it? I meant that everything you cook, no people wouldn’t like.” He narrowed his eyes and drew both toothpicks from his mouth. “I mean that everybody likes what you make, except Adam, who doesn’t like cooked carrots. Or nuts. Or those little coconut sprinkles.”
Oh, sis yuscht. Before she had a chance to do that little trick where she opened her eyes extra-wide to keep herself from crying, tears were running down Katie’s face. She sniffled quietly and buried her face in Beth’s neck so Titus wouldn’t see them. He’d feel obligated to write another poem, and she couldn’t impose upon his kindness any more than she already had.
Unfortunately, Beth did not cooperate. She baaed her displeasure at being cried on and strutted away from Katie as if she saw something very interesting at the other end of the barn. Katie leaned her elbows on her knees and patted her eyes with her fingers. Maybe Titus wouldn’t notice that something was wrong.
“Is something wrong?”
Ach. Titus was as smart as a tack. He always noticed.
“It’s been a hard day,” she said, as if that explained everything.
But how could she make Titus understand, when she knew she was being irrational? Adam was all but ready to propose, and all of a sudden she wasn’t sure if she even wanted him to? Her mamm and his mamm had been making plans for months. Adam had trekked all the way to Huckleberry Hill many times, thinking she wanted him to propose. She’d made him a dozen cakes and more than a few cookies—for sure and certain a sign that she liked him and wanted to be his wife. It was deceitful, plain and simple, to have made him all those goodies without intending to marry him.
Well . . . she had intended to marry him. Maybe she still did. Just because she felt so low tonight didn’t mean she wouldn’t feel differently on Christmas Day.
A small sob escaped her lips, and she clapped her hand over her mouth. She couldn’t even go about getting a husband without messing everything up. “Ach, Titus! I’m so selfish.”
One side of his mouth drooped downward, and his sky-blue eyes glowed with concern. “You’re the nicest girl I know. And I know a lot of girls. I have about two hundred cousins. I mean, not all of them are girls, but at least half of them are.” He pulled a strand of hay from the bale he sat on. “I was never very gute with fractions, but you are. You’re not only nice, but you’re about the smartest girl in Wisconsin. I’m guessing you’re about the smartest girl in the USA, too, but I don’t know many girls outside of Bonduel, so I’ll just have to limit it to Wisconsin. I don’t want to be accused of exaggerating.”
Katie giggled through her tears. Nobody could make her forget her troubles like Titus could.
He leaned forward, looking about as troubled as she felt. “Would a poem cheer you up?”
She took a hankie from her coat pocket and wiped her nose. “Your poems always cheer me up, but I can’t ask you to sacrifice your time to write me one.”
“It’s no sacrifice,” he said. “The words just flow when I think of you.” Lowering his eyes, he pressed his lips together and fiddled with another piece of hay.
She lowered her eyes, too, as her heart seemed to clip-clop around in her chest like two Christmas goats on a wood floor. “Your poems are wonderful-gute. You should send them in to the Budget newspaper to be published.”
“I can’t take credit for them. You’re my inspiration.” She peeked out of the corner of her eye in time to see him turn bright red before he hopped off his hay bale and pulled his Viking beanie farther over his ears. “I know you’re in Bonduel for a very important reason, but nobody should be away from home at Christmastime.” He strode to the workbench, opened one of the drawers, and pulled out a small pair of pruning shears and some twine. “I’ll be back. Can you wait for me?” He shuffled his feet. “If you don’t want to, I’ll understand. It’s wonderful cold.”
“I’ll wait,” she said, smiling so he knew he had nothing to worry about. She certainly wouldn’t be going back to the house until Life on the Farm had fizzled out. She could almost talk herself into marrying Adam if she wasn’t in the same room with him.
Titus was back like lightning through one of the side doors with a fistful of pine boughs. He brushed fat snowflakes off his beanie and coat and shook the pine boughs to clear the snow off them, as well. He grinned at Katie as if he hadn’t expected her to be there on his return. “We need our own Christmas celebration.”
Warmth skated up Katie’s spine. “A celebration?”
His smile faded momentarily. “Unless you think we should invite Adam and Mammi and Dawdi, too.”
“Adam would rather play games with his family, and it’s too cold for Anna and Felty. They’ll understand why we left them out.”
His grin spread across his face, his toothpicks bobbing up and down with approval. “I brought a few decorations.”
After Katie helped Titus hang the pine boughs on the wall above the propane heater, he took the green bow from Judy’s neck and the red bow from Beth and tied them to the branches. It wasn’t a lot, but it made their little corner of the barn look very festive.
Titus scooted a sturdy bench in between Katie’s folding chair and his hay bale. “This will be our table, okay?”
She nodded, unsure what he had planned but knowing it would be fun all the same.
Titus squinted and fingered the toothpicks in his mouth. “This is going to be the tricky part yet.” He took a flashlight from the workbench, turned it on, and walked all the way around the perimeter of the barn, stopping to pull things from the shelves along the wall or look into the stalls and cupboards. He even searched Anna and Felty’s sleigh and Adam’s buggy.
He circled back around to Katie with a small bucket in his fist. Grinning, he started pulling things from his pockets and from inside his coat. “I can’t go into the house without interrupting the game, so we’ll have to make do.” Katie’s mouth curled upward as he set three white taper candles on the bench. “These were sitting on Dawdi’s workbench.” He stuffed his hand into one of his coat pockets and pulled out five crayons. “These were in the drawer. I think one of the grandchildren has been coloring in here. I’m glad, because crayons make wonderful-gute candles.”
She couldn’t keep a slow smile from forming on her lips. Titus was even more clever and thoughtful than she first realized.
He tilted the bucket to show her the contents. “Three stumpy candles from Mammi’s gardening shelf.”
“Are these for singing?” Katie said, her heart swelling at the thought.
Titus nodded.
She very nearly forgot that she was very nearly engaged to Adam and almost gave Titus a hug. “You remembered.” Her insides glowed like a warm fire on a frosty morning, and this time, she didn’t try to hide the tears that pooled in her eyes.
He frowned. “I want you not to miss home so much.” Titus lined the candles and crayons along the bench. The tapers were put into red clay pots that Titus retrieved from Anna’s gardening shelves. He stepped outside and came back with half a bucket of snow. After forming the snow into five hard balls, he set the balls on the bench and stuck a crayon into each one. They would stand up nice and straight until the snow melted.
Titus examined the row of makeshift candles and rubbed his hand down the side of his face. “Ach du lieva, there’s only eleven. I didn’t count right. You’re the one who’s gute at arithmetic.”
“Could we light one of your toothpicks?”
He shook his head in dejection. “I tried that once when I was a kid because I wanted to pretend I was smoking. Toothpicks don’t burn very well.”
Katie tried t
o smile even though she felt some of her enthusiasm wilt. “Eleven candles is gute enough.”
“Nae,” Titus said, a determined set to his jaw. “There has to be twelve.” He gazed around the barn as if hoping an overlooked candle would catch his eye. His face suddenly brightened.
Katie’s heart bounced off her ribs. She loved it when Titus got so excited. He went near the trough where the goats fed, bent over, and picked up a dried goat manure pellet. Coming back to the bench, he rolled it around in his palm and held it out for Katie to see. “I’ve heard these will burn, though I’ve never tried it myself.”
Katie giggled at his clever idea. “How did you get to know so much?”
Titus shrugged. “I don’t know all that much, but sometimes I remember stuff I’ve heard.” He set the pellet of manure on the bench next to the crayon-stuffed snowballs.
“It might not burn very long,” Katie said. “We should light it last.”
Titus cocked an eyebrow. “Now who’s the smart one?” He pulled a box of matches from Felty’s workbench. “Do you want to light the first one or me?”
“You light it,” Katie said. “We wouldn’t be doing this if you hadn’t searched so hard for all those candles. And cut down the pine boughs. And had the idea in the first place.”
With his eyes practically glowing, Titus pulled his hay bale closer to the bench and sat down. He grabbed his beanie by the horn and slid it off his head, revealing that white-blond hair and the boyish cowlick Katie liked so much.
“I like your beanie,” Katie said.
Titus pulled a match from the box and grinned. “Denki. Mammi made it for me. She doesn’t want my ears to get cold.” He struck a match and lit one of the taper candles. It would burn the longest.
“Now pick a song,” Katie said, “and we can sing. Unless . . . unless you don’t want to sing.”
Titus shook his head. “We have to sing. It’s a Christmas tradition.” He scratched his head. “I choose ‘O Come, All Ye Faithful.’ ”
Katie gave him a pitch, and they began to sing. Katie could carry a tune, but she had a mousy voice that she’d never been tempted to be proud of. Titus, on the other hand, had the voice of an angel or a movie star—even with two toothpicks in his mouth. Katie melted like a snowball in a wood-burning stove. Surely the angels singing to the shepherds sounded much like this. She almost stopped singing just to listen to Titus, but she didn’t want to break with tradition, so she kept up, as inadequate as her voice was.