Connor noticed Katie had lost some of her drive to create the best nativity ever. Instead, she sounded more than a little put out. And that made him a little sad.
Every child should have her innocence for as long as possible, and he hated the thought of her losing hers because of a string of unusual thefts at Christmas.
Though he didn’t have a ton of experience with kids, he gave cheering her up a try. “I’m really sorry that someone keeps taking the figurines. Sometimes, people do things that don’t make any sense, and that’s hard to understand.”
Katie blinked. “What do you do then?”
“Take a deep breath and do my job. I promise, I have been trying to figure out who’s taking them.” It just happened that there were precious few clues—and a whole lot more important things to worry about than a diminishing nativity set.
Her owlish gaze pinned him for a moment, just as if she was trying to read his mind. Then, with a shrug, she sighed. “It’s all right if you don’t figure it out, I guess. I’m beginning to think that my mamm was right, anyway. She said I shouldn’t be caring about an old plastic set of Mary and Joseph.”
“I, for one, am glad you do! Why, someone needs to. If a group of plastic figures ever needed a guardian angel, I would say it’s this set.”
“And that’s me?” She looked a little stunned by that. And, perhaps, a little bit proud, too.
“I think so.” He smiled gently. “After all, if not for you, I don’t think anyone would really care all that much. I would have tried to figure out who hurt Mrs. Jensen, then forgot about the nativity here on the library’s lawn.”
“Mamm said that a hurt lady is far more important than a missing plastic lamb.”
“I’d have to agree with her. But my shift ended, so now I have time to worry about both.” Fingering the paintbrush again, he said, “So, where were your brothers going to paint the stable?”
“Right here at the front door. We were going to ask Miss D. when we found out about Ella.” Her bottom lip trembled. “Now Ella’s scared and in the hospital and I have to stay here out of the way.”
“I think they were more concerned with you not sitting in the hospital for the next several hours. They didn’t want you to be bored. Babies can take a while to be born, you know.”
“How do you know?”
Well, Katie Weaver was nothing if not blunt. “Because I have two sisters, and those sisters have had babies.”
“You’re an uncle?”
“Yep. Three times over.” He looked at her proudly. “One niece and two nephews.”
“I’m already an aunt, my brother Calvin already has a baby. But now I’m going to be an aunt of two babies.”
“That’s pretty special.”
Her little chin rose a bit. Then she bit her lip. “So, did everything turn out okay with your sisters?”
“Yep.” He rubbed the back of his neck. Boy, he hadn’t thought about his sisters and the hours he’d kept his phone close while he’d waited to hear about their deliveries for quite a while. This year he hadn’t been able to take any time off his new job, so he’d had to make do with sending packages to his nephews and niece.
Looking at Katie Weaver, he realized just how much he missed them. “You know, I’ve got some time right now. How about we go ahead and paint the stable?”
“You can do that?”
“Well, yeah. You might be surprised about this, but I can do more than just attempt to find thieves. I can paint things, too.”
To his delight, she giggled.
“I’ll get started. Why don’t you go tell Miss D. what we’re doing?”
When she scampered back inside, he carefully walked down the hill and started pulling the wooden structure back up it. The thing was heavier than it looked. By the time he was halfway, he’d tossed his jacket and gloves on the ground and was unzipping his fleece vest.
Two Amish men, their arms laden with books, stopped and watched his progress, their gazes solemn. One with a rather long gray beard looked particularly intrigued. “What are you doing, English? Stripping on the library’s front lawn?”
“Only my jacket and gloves,” he said with a laugh. “Actually, I thought I’d help out Katie Weaver and paint the crèche for her. Her brothers are at the hospital.”
“Oh no. Someone in trouble?”
“Only of the good kind. Ella Weaver’s baby is on the way.”
Both men grinned. “Loyal’s going to be having a time of it, I’m thinking. He’s a calm sort, except when things aren’t going so calmly.”
Connor chuckled. “I’m beginning to get that same idea.”
The younger Amish man stepped forward. “Do you have the paint?”
“Yep, it’s right here. Loyal left it by the door.”
“Want some help?”
The structure wasn’t all that big—maybe six feet tall and four feet wide. It was really just a simple wooden frame. It wouldn’t take more than an hour to paint it.
But that wasn’t the point. Men in the community were reaching out to him. And he was so grateful for their outreach, there was no way he was going to push them away.
“I’d love some help. Thanks.”
And with that, the younger of the two men trotted down the hill, picked up the crèche without as much as a grunt, and easily carried it up the hill. Connor couldn’t help but be impressed. He wasn’t a small man, and he worked out regularly. “Impressive,” he mumbled under his breath.
The older guy heard him. “Farming,” he said. “Bales of hay are heavy. Heavier than they look.”
“I guess so.”
When they parked the crèche in front of the door, Jayne met them with some old newspapers. “Katie just told me what you are doing. She’s so excited about this. Thank you.”
“It’s nothing.” Looking at the stack of newspapers in her hands, he asked, “So, are those for us?”
“Yep. Spread them out on the cement, just in case you drip.”
“Thanks. And Jayne?”
“Yes?”
“Are we still on for dinner later?”
“Absolutely, if I’m not still watching Katie.”
“Sounds good.” He couldn’t resist smiling as she turned and walked back inside. Suddenly, he felt warm and happy. Even the chilly temperatures didn’t seem to affect him.
“Stop your mooning, English,” one of the men said.
“Sorry. She, uh, said she’d go out to dinner with me tonight.”
The other men chuckled. “A Christmas romance, hmm?” one said. “There’s only one solution for what ails ya.”
“And what is that?”
“Painting.”
Connor grinned right back, then the three of them got to work. Katie came out, and stood to one side, watching it all with a look of contentment.
Within twenty minutes, however, one would have thought that they were creating a beautiful masterpiece instead of simply painting a wooden frame black. A crowd had formed around them.
People started asking questions about the crèche, about Ella, and about the nativity thief. He answered what he could. Katie—being Katie—fielded most of the questions. She told them how even though she wasn’t supposed to care about the nativity, she did. And that a couple of people had volunteered to fill in for the spots on Christmas Eve.
“Do you need any more help?” one college-aged girl asked.
“Jah,” Katie said. “It would be wunderbaar to have enough people to stand in for the whole nativity.”
“Will you be wanting real animals, too?”
“If we can get ’em. It’s only right, ain’t so?”
The old man chuckled. “Katie Weaver, sometimes I can only imagine what your father is saying, looking down from heaven.”
Her mouth formed a small O. “Do you think he’d be upset, Mr. Coblentz? My mamm says I’m incorrigible, you know.”
“I don’t know if you’re incorrigible or not. But I do think your daed would be as proud as punch, Katie
. You are doing a gut thing, caring about this nativity like you are.”
Somewhat shyly, she tucked her chin to her chest.
As more people volunteered to help out, Connor realized that some organization was needed. “If some of you really do want to help Katie out, we should probably write all this down.”
Then, to his amusement, Jayne got involved, too. She’d been quietly listening from the door of the library.
“I brought out some notepaper. Those who are serious about helping out, come over here, and let me write your name down.”
At least seven people darted her way, just as the men finished painting the crèche.
Then, little by little, everyone went on his way, either back into the library, or down the sidewalks. At last, it was only he, Jayne, and Katie. The sudden silence, combined with the sense of satisfaction he felt from completing a job well-done, made him feel like words were unnecessary.
After a bit, Katie tugged on Jayne’s sweater.
Jayne bent down. “Yes?”
“Are you happier now, Miss D.?” Katie asked.
Straightening up, she sent a Connor a perplexed look. “What are you talking about?”
When Katie motioned for Jayne to bend down again, Connor stepped to one side, to afford them at least the illusion of privacy.
“You know,” Katie hissed into Jayne’s ear—though not very quietly. “Are you happier about your love life?”
Connor didn’t know whether he was more stunned by the question, or amused by the way Katie’s question made Jayne’s fair complexion turn a rosy red.
Jayne straightened abruptly. “Oh my word.”
“Well, are you?” Katie asked.
After a quick glance his way, Jayne nodded. “Um, yes. Now, are you hungry? Because I need to take you down to the Kaffi Haus, and supposedly your uncle John has saved you an apple fritter.”
“He did?”
“Um hum. Someone just called from his coffee shop. Your Uncle John is going to watch you until your mother gets home from the hospital.”
Pure pleasure lit Katie’s cheeks. “I’ll go get my tote bag.”
Jayne chuckled. “Take your time, dear. And don’t forget your coat.”
When they were alone, Connor couldn’t resist teasing her. “So, you were sad about your love life, but not any longer?”
“Oh my goodness, I am definitely not going there with you.”
“I just want to know if you are happier . . .”
“Don’t start trying to interpret Katie. I promise, she blurts everything that’s on her mind—to everyone and anyone. Conversations with her are not for the faint of heart.”
At the moment, he was mentally giving thanks for Katie and her chatty nature. “Come now, Jayne. Tell me. All you need to do is tell me yes or no.”
She bit her lip, and she looked so flustered and cute, he was tempted to hug her right there on the library’s front steps. “In that case . . . yes.”
“You make me happy, too.” He didn’t even try to temper his grin. “Especially since we can have our date since you won’t need to watch Katie. Pick you up at your house at seven thirty?”
“That’s fine.”
“Great. I better get on my way, but I’ll call you later.”
“Hey, Connor?”
“Yeah?”
She waved a hand, signifying the crèche, the people that had gathered there . . . the list of volunteers for the Christmas Eve nativity. “Thanks for this.”
“You’re welcome. But we both know all I did was show up.”
“You did more than that. And we both know that, too.”
Chapter Eleven
A YEAR AGO, Jayne had promised herself that she’d never enter the Kaffi Haus unless she was starving and there wasn’t another place to eat within twenty miles. She’d been that reluctant to be around John Weaver.
But now things had changed.
Here she was, walking with Katie, holding hands, and chatting about babies and farm animals, of all things. It turned out that Katie knew quite a bit about sheep and lambs, and she was determined to share every bit of her knowledge.
“No, I didn’t know that sheep liked to eat apples.”
“They do,” Katie said. “Cherries, too, though my brother Calvin said grass and a little bit of grain or corn is best for them.”
“Katie, you are a fount of information.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Is that gut?”
“Mighty gut,” Jayne said with a smile.
All too soon, they were at the coffee shop and walking in. At the back of the shop, behind the counter that ran almost the whole width of the place, was John Weaver. The scene was almost exactly the same as when they’d first met.
“Katie, I’ve been waiting for you. Are you eager to be an aunt today?” he asked brightly, then colored as if he’d suddenly noticed who she was with. “Hello, Jayne.”
“Hi, John.” It was prideful, but she had to admit that she liked catching him off guard. Lord knew John’s rejection of her had inspired many sleepless nights. “How are you?”
“I’m gut.” His eyes darted to the door. Over her shoulder. Back to the counter he was polishing. Anywhere but directly at her. Then, if he’d just realized what he said, he rolled his eyes. “I mean, I’m fine.”
“Even I know what gut means, John.”
“I suppose that’s true.” He opened his mouth, then closed it again. Then, he walked around the counter and helped Katie off with her coat and gave her a warm hug.
Jayne stood to the side, content to take these moments to observe him a little longer. Though Jacob’s Crossing was a very small town, she’d gone to extreme lengths to avoid him. Consequently, it had been quite a while since she’d taken a good long look at him.
He was still handsome.
Secretly, she was relieved her presence made him so uncomfortable. It made her realize that her hurt feelings hadn’t been completely exaggerated. There really had been something between them—and he really had broken her heart.
John was dressed Amish now, of course. That had been one of the reasons he’d ultimately broken up with her. He’d chosen to marry an Amish woman who was a widow and return to his roots. Jayne had been terribly disappointed, especially because she’d known she couldn’t compete with that.
A person’s faith helped shape who he was. There was no way she could have encouraged him to betray who he was.
But even so, for a time she’d selfishly wished that she’d meant more to him than his faith. If human love could ever be more important.
But they’d all moved forward. Thankfully. “So, how is Mary? And Abel?”
His cheeks flushed. “Good. They’re both good.”
Bored with their conversation, Katie went around the counter until she was standing smack-dab in front of him. “Can I have a donut, Onkle John?”
“Of course you may!” He picked her up and gave her a little twirl. “That’s why you came here, of course. Which one do you want?”
“An apple fritter?”
“Ah, yes. I do believe I have one apple fritter put aside for you. Go sit down and I’ll bring it over.” When she walked to a table, John pulled out a tissue wrapper and put one perfect donut on a plastic plate, then carried it out to her.
When he returned, he said, “Jayne, would you like one, too?”
It was his olive branch, she knew. And maybe olive branches were worth the hundreds of calories that her waistline didn’t need. “I’d love a cake.”
“You always did favor the plain ones.”
“It’s hard to find a perfect cake donut. I never had a better one than from right here.”
“How about some coffee, too? It’s fresh.”
“Sure. But I’m afraid I need it to go. I need to get back to the library.”
“We can do that.”
After filling the paper cup and putting her donut in a white paper sack, he walked around the counter and handed both to her. “Here you go.”
“You don’t need to pay, Jayne.”
There had always been something about the way he said her name. The J sound was just a little bit soft, the long A just a little bit drawn out.
And upon hearing her name on his lips, she felt just a little bit breathless. Old habits, it seemed, died hard.
She needed to reinstate some distance.
“I think I do need to pay,” she said firmly. She needed to remember that they didn’t have a relationship. And that they never would again. Putting a new thread of brightness in her voice, she added, “You’re running a business, right?”
“It’s two fifty, then.” He took her money and gave her the change.
She left fifty cents on the counter. “I’ll see you later, Katie. I can’t wait to hear what kind of baby Ella has.”
“Me neither,” she said around a bite.
“We’re going to stop by the hospital in a little while,” John blurted. “Is your cell phone number the same? If so, I could call from the hospital and give you an update.”
“Thanks. I’d really appreciate it.”
“It’s no trouble I know you two are close friends.”
“Thanks, John,” she repeated, this time a little easier.
“Anytime.”
She looked at him a little longer, then realized that the pain she kept expecting to feel wasn’t there. Instead, she noticed that a glob of icing was smeared on Katie’s cheek. The sticky substance coated a couple of her fingers, too. Hopefully, John would notice and hand her a couple of napkins, fast.
But more than that, she realized that it wasn’t her place to do things like that any longer. While she once hoped to be an aunt to Katie, her favorite child, she had to remember: she was a good friend to Katie. Nothing more. “Goodbye, you two,” she said, feeling like she was saying goodbye to a whole lot more than them for the afternoon.
She was saying goodbye to what could have been but now never would be.
Exiting the coffee shop, Jayne took comfort in the cold blast of air stinging her cheeks. The fresh breeze invigorated her and helped her shake off that last bit of melancholia.
A Christmas for Katie Page 7