by Kelly Long
This was no time for smiles, but Katie couldn’t help it. Titus loved her and she loved him. “There’s . . . there’s been a change of plans.” She pursed her lips and gave Adam the look she used to scold her nephews. “Adam, it’s not nice to steal other people’s poems. You should be ashamed of yourself.”
Adam’s face only got redder, as if he had a bad case of heat rash. “I didn’t steal. I borrowed. Titus didn’t mind.”
Titus puffed out his chest. “I’m sorry to have to say this, but he didn’t shovel the sidewalk, either.”
Katie’s mouth fell open. Thoroughly appalled, she turned on Adam. “I wouldn’t even consider marrying you now. Sorry, Mamm. Sorry, Dat, but Adam doesn’t like cooked carrots, chocolate sprinkles, or fudge with nuts.”
Mamm gasped as if she’d caught Adam smoking in the barn.
Dat’s face was as dark as a storm cloud. “That does change things yet.”
“Titus,” Adam yelled, “this is the most disgraceful—”
Titus must not have closed the door tightly. With a bang and a woosh of frigid air, Judea and Bethlehem crashed into the room as if they’d come to rescue Titus from a coyote. Judy had a new gold bow around her neck, and Beth wore a single jingle bell like a necklace—though why Katie noticed at a time like this was a mystery.
Titus’s eyebrows nearly flew off his face as he tried to grab Beth, then Judy, before they escaped his grasp. He wasn’t fast enough.
Katie’s mamm squealed and jumped onto her chair. Adam’s mamm snatched a towel from the fridge and snapped it in the goats’ direction.
Beth galloped around the kitchen and the great room as if she was looking for the nearest exit. Sparky, who had been asleep on the rug, sprang to her feet and vaulted onto the sofa, barking like the world was coming to an end.
Judy baaed her greeting and proceeded to lick Adam’s plate and eat his napkin.
“Shoo, shoo,” Katie’s mamm yelled as she snapped her towel in an effort to herd Judy out the door.
Dat grabbed on to Judy’s gold ribbon and held on tight, but Judy simply pulled him to his feet and led him around the great room with her.
“Get them out,” Adam shouted. “Mamm, throw me your towel.”
Beth put her head down and ran right at Adam. He held out his hands to catch her as if she were a ball, and she flattened him like a pancake.
“Help him up,” someone yelled, but there was so much confusion, Katie couldn’t tell who’d said it.
Titus stared at Katie as if he hadn’t noticed the chaos in the room. As if Judy wasn’t trying to jump up on the table for the cake and Beth wasn’t drinking water from Sparky’s bowl. Without taking her eyes from Titus, Katie glided breathlessly toward him. It was as if they were the only two people in the room.
“I liked your poem,” she said, just as Judy ran past and snatched it out of Titus’s fist with her teeth.
Titus didn’t even flinch. “I meant every word.”
Her heart kept rhythm with Sparky’s barking and Beth’s stomping. Would she ever breathe normally again? Not that she wanted to. She liked this giddy, oh-so-happy feeling she got being near Titus.
“Get a broom! Anna, do you have a broom?”
Titus took Katie’s hand. The tingle went all the way up her arm. He looked down and shuffled his feet. “My dat is selling me a piece of property not three miles from here. Mammi says I can keep the Christmas goats. Would you be ashamed to be married to a goat farmer who can’t do his fractions?”
“Think of the cheese we could make.”
“Samuel,” Mamm yelled, “be careful or you’ll knock over that shelf, and watch the knitting needles.”
Titus wrapped his arms all the way around Katie. Her knees got as wobbly as Jell-O. Gute thing he was holding on so tight. “Will you marry me, pretty Katie Gingerich?”
“I love cheese,” she whispered, her heart so full she thought it might burst.
“And I love potpies,” he whispered back.
He lowered his head and kissed her softly, making the bees and the butterflies and all sorts of creatures come to life inside her head. She had never been so happy. Oy, anyhow. His lips felt so gute. Good thing he’d thrown away his toothpick.
Titus pulled away and lifted a brow. “I hope I didn’t hurt Adam’s feelings.”
“Ach, he’ll be all right. I saw Martha Weaver making eyes at him at the school program last night.”
“I made eyes at you at the school program last night.”
Katie giggled. “I know. You gave me butterflies.”
Judy clip-clopped past them with strands of red, yellow, and brown yarn tangled up in her ears. Adam’s parents, Katie’s parents, and Adam were doing more running around than the goats and making a lot more noise. Felty sat at the table with his arm around Anna, eating his triple chocolate cake while his eyes sparkled with delight. Neither of them seemed to mind that two goats were making a mess of their house.
“Do you think we should tell them how to catch the goats?” Katie said.
Titus grinned sheepishly. “One more kiss first?”
This time she stood on her tippy toes and wrapped her arms around his neck. He sort of lifted her off the ground, and his kiss made her feel like she was floating. Better than eating three pieces of Chocolate Wonder and a whole apple pie. If she’d known how gute it would feel, she would have kissed Titus a lot sooner.
Oh, sis yuscht, ach, du lieva, and oy, anyhow.
“Merry Christmas, Titus.”
“Merry Christmas, my dear Katie.”
CHOCOLATE WONDER
INGREDIENTS
1 cup flour
½ cup butter, softened
½ cup chopped pecans
1 cup powdered sugar
8 ounces cream cheese, softened
16-ounce tub of whipped topping (like Cool Whip)
Two 4½-ounce packages of instant chocolate pudding
3 cups milk
¼ cup chopped pecans (optional)
2 tablespoons chocolate sprinkles (optional)
Preheat oven to 300 degrees F.
CRUST
With a pastry cutter, combine:
1 cup flour
½ cup butter, softened
Add:
½ cup chopped pecans
Mix and press into the bottom of a 9x13-inch pan. Bake at 300 degrees F for 25 minutes. Watch closely so it doesn’t burn around the edges. Cool.
CREAM CHEESE LAYER
Mix well:
1 cup powdered sugar
8 ounces cream cheese, softened
Add:
Half of the whipped topping
Mix well and pour over the cooled crust.
PUDDING LAYER
With a hand beater or an electric beater, mix until set:
2 packages of instant chocolate pudding
3 cups milk
Spread over the cream cheese layer.
Spread the rest of the whipped topping over the top of the pudding layer. Sprinkle with chopped nuts or chocolate sprinkles (optional).
Let set in fridge for 4 to 5 hours.
THE SPECIAL CHRISTMAS COOKIE
LISA JONES BAKER
To my greatest blessings, John and Marcia Baker, who raised me in a Christian home filled with unconditional love and support.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I’m grateful to my Lord and Savior for publication after twenty-four years of prayers to see my work in print. Thank you to my mother, Marcia Baker, the most patient person in the world, for listening to me read my books out loud for over two decades. Thanks to computer expert and sister extraordinaire Beth Zehr for creating my Web site and for taking on my computer challenges at all times, day and night. Also thanks to niece Brittany for her huge contribution to my Web page. Thanks to my other invaluable computer assistants who help me at a moment’s notice: Gary Kerr, Doug Zehr, Brooke Conlee, Bloomington Geek Squad. Thanks to writer Lisa Norato, confidante, critique partner, and true friend for riding out the entire t
enure of my writing endeavors with me.
I owe tremendous thanks to numerous kind people in Arthur for patiently answering questions, having me in their homes, relating true stories during wonderful buggy rides, and allowing me special insight into a way of life that has my full respect, admiration, and fascination. Thanks to my Amish go-to girl, who prefers to remain anonymous, while faithfully reading my early copies, cover to cover, and for helping Emma to follow her heart. I owe a debt of gratitude to hundreds of writers in the RWA who reviewed my partials and offered input to hone my stories. Last but certainly not least, I’d like to give special thanks to my supportive agent, Tamela Hancock Murray, who stuck by me and rooted for me, and to my fabulous editor, Selena James, and everyone at Kensington Publishing who have been part of the production of this story.
CHAPTER 1
Emma drew a star at the top of Amos’s English homework page and wrapped an affectionate arm around him. “Excellent work! You got every answer right!”
The corners of Amos’s lips drew up into a huge grin that showed a row of straight teeth. The child had a kind face. And an even warmer heart. Every time Emma looked at him, the small boy’s innocence tugged at her emotions.
As the first December snowfall touched the bare, frozen ground of Arthur, Illinois, the flame in the fireplace at the two-story Troyer home popped. Amos and Emma jumped at the same time. Laughter followed.
Automatically, Emma didn’t waste time pulling the front of his black hand-knit sweater together. She tried to avoid mentioning Amos’s unusual heart defect, but it was more important than ever to make sure he stayed warm. At the young age of six, Amos hadn’t known any other way of life.
But good news had broken a year ago when he had visited a doctor at the Mayo Clinic who could fix it. Because they were Amish, they had no insurance, but thanks to the news reaching the media, there was huge support for an upcoming auction in their community to raise money for the unique procedure to take place in Rochester, Minnesota.
The smell of lemon-scented furniture polish loomed in the air. It was no secret that Amos’s mother, Esther, kept the cleanest house in town when she was well. But unfortunately, she was forced to spend bouts of time in bed when the Epstein-Barr virus set her back. But even then, her sisters made sure the Troyer house stayed well kept!
As Emma regarded Amos, he turned to face her. The unexpected seriousness in his deep brown eyes took her by surprise.
When he tugged at her arm, his small white hand remained on her wrist. “Emmie, does this mean I get a cookie with icing?”
Emma broke out in laughter. For some reason, that was the last question she’d expected. He was referring to the star she’d drawn. Honored that her only student considered her Christmas cookies the best he’d ever tasted, Emma stood and proceeded to the thin red plastic platter she’d brought to his house that morning. Amos knew he had earned a cookie. And she loved making him happy. “Which one do you want?”
He quickly and eagerly joined her, pointing to the edible with peppermint icing. She plucked the chosen treat between two fingers, grabbed a napkin with her free hand, and laid both on the table.
While chewing the buttery dessert, he glanced back at her and grinned. “I like this better than the one you drew.”
Emma sat next to him. “I’ll bet you do.”
He lifted a skeptical brow. “In my opinion, this is my favorite.”
She gave an appreciative nod. “That’s good to hear.” Amos was fully aware that Emma changed her recipe a tad each time for Amos to decide which batch was the tastiest. When she altered the mixture, sometimes adding more butter, or vanilla, or flour, she documented her adjustments so when Amos decided which cookie won, she would use that formula for the auction, to take place in less than two weeks.
As she put his school books in a neat pile, his soft voice made her look up. “Emmie, when I have the operation, I won’t have to wear this anymore, will I?” He looked down at his heavy knit sweater, and the corners of his lips dropped.
Contemplating an answer, she shoved her chair closer to the table. The quick motion made a light squeaking sound on the tiled floor.
While he chewed the morsel, Emma pressed her lips together thoughtfully. Somehow she knew that being positive would play a very important role in the outcome of the operation.
“You won’t have to wear it in the summer. But in the winter?” She lifted a brow. “It’s pretty cold. You’ll probably want it on.”
Her answer seemed to satisfy him. After gobbling down the snack, he wrote out the answers she’d asked him to do on the paper in front of him. She watched his feet, which almost touched the floor, swing back and forth while he concentrated.
A bright beam of sunlight swept through the kitchen window and landed on his beautiful thick mass of hair, lightening it to a softer shade of reddish-blond.
Finally, the six-year-old dropped his pencil on the table and handed the paper to Emma while displaying a proud look on his face. “That was easy, Emmie. What next?”
The adult-like way he spoke at times prompted a smile. If only every child liked homework as much as Amos did. She tried not to overreact to the high academic level he’d achieved at his age; she never wanted it to go to his head.
She quickly put another project in front of him. “Here. Read it to yourself, then see how many answers you can get.” She followed the order with a wink.
Without wasting a second, he started the new project as if he was playing with a toy. Emma already knew that Amos would get every answer correct. She wasn’t sure whether his reading ability was related to his inability to play outside with other children, but whatever the case, his level in English skills was heads above kids his age.
After he glanced at the page, he surprised her by dropping his pen next to the paper and looking straight ahead. Emma lifted a curious brow. Her instincts told her that some of his interest in completing his schoolwork was to please his tutor. He loved spending time with her. And vice versa.
He turned and crossed one leg under the other while getting comfortable on his chair. The serious look in his eyes hinted that he wanted to talk about something.
She hesitated. “Amos, is something wrong?”
He glanced down at the table and frowned. She tried for a positive thought to make him smile again. “Just think, Amos, it’s only a matter of time before the surgery takes place. And you’ll be as good as new!”
When he looked up, his expression was uncertain. He lowered the pitch of his voice until it was barely more than a whisper. “What if there aren’t enough cookies?”
“You mean donations?”
He offered a slow, sad nod.
She reached across the table and used her pointer finger to lift his chin a notch. Their gazes locked. “Amos, I have every bit of faith that God will help us get enough money.”
She used her most confident voice. The last thing she wanted was for him to lose hope. “I have a list of cookie donations that would reach all the way to the North Pole!”
He laughed.
She went on to explain. “The cookies will help, that’s for sure. But as I’ve told you, most of the revenue will come from more expensive items. Tables, chairs, and furniture that men in our community are working very hard to make.”
When he didn’t say anything, she proceeded in her most reassuring tone. “Other donations will help, too. From what I’ve heard, one of the farmers in our community will even auction off some of his land to go to your fund.”
Amos pulled in a deep breath and rolled his eyes in disbelief.
“That goes to show just how special you are.”
His pupils got larger.
“Because so many people across the state are aware of this surgery . . . and of you . . . folks have committed out of the goodness of their hearts.”
He frowned and scratched his nose. “You mean they’re giving money without getting anything back?”
She smiled at the way he worded the question. H
is thoughts were so straightforward. Honest. There was never a guess where he was coming from.
The mooing noises from the cattle lightened the silence.
“You know that people all over are rooting for you to get your surgery. Even the doctor who will perform the procedure is forfeiting what he would make.”
An emotional breath escaped her. She blinked when salty tears stung her eyes. She leaned closer to Amos and whispered, “Do you know just how special that makes you?”
To her surprise, he didn’t grin. The expression in his large, hopeful eyes was unusually serious. “Do you know what I’m gonna do first thing after I get my heart fixed, Emmie?”
She looked at him for an answer.
“Play tag with Jake and Daniel. And nobody’s gonna catch me!”
The admissions tugged at Emma’s heartstrings until her chest ached. Automatically, she rested her hands below her neck and closed her eyes a moment. His wants were so simple. She knew of healthy kids with much stronger desires, but this little guy only wanted to run and play outside.
To Emma, raising sufficient funds for the operation would be one of God’s greatest gifts. When Amos had asked her about it, she had stood firm that the funds would come in. But she was saying double prayers for it to actually happen.
How could any child be more precious than Amos? Emma was sure it wasn’t possible, as she took in the small boy’s endearing features and swallowed an emotional knot. Amos’s thick mass of unruly hair fell lazily over his forehead and caressed the tops of his brows.
The child’s deep brown eyes reminded her of autumn. Of pumpkin pie–colored leaves falling from tall trees. Tiny freckles on the bridge of his nose matched his pupils. And a narrow set of shoulders was the reason his suspenders continuously slipped down his arms.