An Amish Christmas Wedding

by Amy Clipston

  Feeling confident that she could handle that task, she turned her attention to the cakes. She’d made scores of cakes since she started baking at age ten. But Quinn’s cakes had to be extra special and delicious, and now she couldn’t be sure she’d find the time to go to the library to research. She skimmed through two cookbooks and three boxes of recipe cards, then decided to make four sample flavors—chocolate because Quinn had said that was Tanner’s favorite, then Italian cream, yellow, and strawberry.

  She set down her pencil and rested her chin on her palm. She’d have to find time to go to the library. If she didn’t, she’d never figure out the best way to decorate the cakes. Maybe she could do that on Monday. The Christmas program was next Thursday evening, so the cookies would have to be done by then . . .

  One day at a time.

  She froze. That was Jakob’s favorite saying. Once again, she was thinking about him. The saying was a common one, and she’d heard other people use it. But whenever either one of them had felt overwhelmed, he’d always say, “One day at a time. That’s all we have to get through.”

  Frowning, she rose from the table. All these thoughts about Jakob were temporary. By tomorrow she’d be so focused on her responsibilities that she’d forget all about him. Nodding to herself, she turned off the gas lamp in the kitchen and climbed the stairs.

  As she dropped into bed fifteen minutes later, she realized Jakob certainly wouldn’t be thinking about her. He wanted the breakup, too, remember? And he’d avoided her just as much as she’d avoided him all this time. Their meeting today had just been accidental, with no other result than being civil in front of Quinn.

  But as she closed her eyes, her mind drifted to the warm look he’d given her at the kitchen table—and how wonderful it had made her feel.

  * * *

  Jakob pulled on clean broadfall pants and a fresh shirt—then at the last minute, a blue pullover sweater, too—for the school Christmas program. Two of his nephews and three of his nieces were in it, and he hadn’t missed a single one since the first child was old enough to attend school. He looked forward to hearing the kids sing—and to the invariable gaff one or more of them would make during the program. Afterward came the social part—eating the treats the women of the community made for everyone to snack on while they all visited with one another.

  He combed his hair, then went downstairs to the kitchen, where his mother was putting on her black bonnet. “Daed’s hitching up the buggy,” she said, tying the black ribbons beneath her chin.

  “I was going to hitch it for him,” Jakob said, frowning.

  “Yer daed was ready early, and you know he gets antsy.” She glanced at the doorway leading to the mudroom and clucked her tongue.

  “I’ll geh out and help him.”

  His father was almost finished, though. Still, he was glad he’d stepped outside ahead of his mother. Snow had started to fall, and he didn’t want her to slip on the porch steps. So he quickly swept them clean with a broom they kept propped near the back door in the winter.

  On the ride there, he noted the temperature seemed to be dropping, and once they were at the school, he was glad the coal stove in the basement had already warmed the main floor.

  This was the same place he and Mary had attended school. Memories of the Christmas programs he’d reluctantly participated in when he was a student washed over him. He glanced around, and on several of the older boys’ faces he saw the same forlorn look he supposed he’d worn then. He couldn’t help but smile. Right now singing in front of most everyone in the community might seem like torture, but someday, when these boys’ own children were in the Christmas programs, they would come to appreciate the event.

  Family. Someday he wanted a wife and children of his own, God willing. At one time he thought Mary might be part of that future, but not anymore.

  He pushed her out of his thoughts and looked around again. The school was one huge room with a divider in the middle that split the lower and higher grades, but tonight the divider was pushed back, along with most of the desks. Folding chairs for the audience were on one side of the room, and two folding tables laden with all the desserts had been set up on the other side. As he usually did before the program started, he moseyed over to see what kinds of treats he could enjoy later.

  His gaze landed on a large platter of sugar cookies in the center of one of the tables. Although it was surrounded by other cookies, cupcakes, brownies, and homemade candy, he smiled. Those sugar cookies had to be Mary’s, and everyone knew her cookies were the best.

  Jakob lifted his gaze and spotted her coming in through the back door, carrying another platter of cookies. She looked tired, and he almost joined her to ask if she needed help. He stopped himself when her gaze met his, and he saw only a coldness there. Fine. So much for civility. She didn’t want his help, so he wouldn’t offer it.

  He turned to grab a seat in the audience only to find every chair filled. That was fine too. He could stand. But so many others were standing as well that the only place he could find was against the back wall. And the only space there was near the tables.

  He didn’t look at Mary as she slipped in right next to him, obviously her only choice. But when he noticed her craning her neck to see the students, he couldn’t help himself. He tapped her on the shoulder, then gestured to switch places so she could see better. She paused, then gave him a curt nod. Boy, was she in a mood. He’d seen moods like this over the years both when they were friends and when they were a couple. Experience told him the best thing was to just let her stew about whatever was bothering her. She’d get over it eventually. Still, he couldn’t help but wonder what had made her so cranky.

  He focused on the program, which as usual was enjoyable. Some of the students forgot their parts, and others not only sang out of tune but drowned out the other students. The older boys mouthed the words, something Jakob had done too. Then he caught his youngest niece’s attention. She was six, and she wasn’t shy about waving at him when he gave her a smile.

  When the program was over, everyone gathered around the tables and filled small paper plates with the treats he’d checked out earlier. He’d been right about which cookies were Mary’s. Jakob let everyone else go before him, but he managed to get one of her cookies before they disappeared. Then he spent some time talking with a friend before turning toward the rest of the crowd to find most everyone already gone.

  “Jakob.”

  He turned to his father and saw the concern on his face. He was already wearing his coat and boots. “Ya?”

  “The roads are getting slippery. We need to leave before it gets too difficult to travel in a buggy. Most families have already gone home.”

  He nodded, then glanced at Mary. He’d noticed she’d played hostess the entire time, making sure everyone who wanted a cup of cider received one and giving the two teachers time to visit with their students’ families. But now the teachers were already cleaning the classroom, and he knew they wouldn’t leave until the place was put back together and spotless. “I think I’ll stay and help Juanita and Tabitha.”

  “You’ll have to walk home,” Mamm said as she joined them, wearing her cape and bonnet.

  “That’s fine. I’ll be warm enough, and I have mei flashlight.” He didn’t mind a walk in the snow.

  “All right.” Daed nodded and backed away. “We’ll see you at home, then.”

  Jakob joined Tabitha, the teacher who taught the younger grades. “I’ll get these chairs for you,” he said.

  “Danki, Jakob.” She looked up at him from lowered lashes. “That’s very kind of you.”

  Tabitha was single, and by the way she was looking at him, he realized she might be interested in him. But he wasn’t interested in her. Turning, he started folding chairs, then stacking them on two carts. He rolled the carts one at a time to the back of the classroom, and when he’d finished, Tabitha was shoving the last of the desks into place. Juanita must have left without his noticing.

  He
was about to see if the two dessert tables were ready to be folded when he felt a tap on his shoulder.

  “I really appreciate yer help,” Tabitha said, smiling up at him.

  “You’re welcome.” He took a step back. Yep, she was definitely interested. She was a nice girl, pretty in a nondescript sort of way, and only two years younger than him. But there was no attraction or spark there, and he wasn’t going to let her think there was. “I should be going now—”

  “Would you like to come to mei haus for a while? I have marshmallows and some homemade hot chocolate, and we’re just two doors down. Then if the weather gets really bad, I can take you home in Daed’s sled. He won’t mind.”

  “Jakob’s already promised to help me carry mei platters home,” Mary said, coming up beside him.

  Jakob looked at her, bewildered. Then he felt her pinch his arm. A light pinch, which had always been her signal that they’d talk later about whatever was going on. In other words, he needed to go along with her.

  “Oh, that’s right.” He slapped his forehead in dramatic fashion. “How could I have forgotten that?”

  Tabitha looked from him to Mary, then back at him. “I didn’t realize you two were still together,” she said, looking disappointed.

  “We’re not,” they said at the same time.

  Mary smiled, but the gesture seemed strained. “It’s just that no one else was still here to ask. Everyone was in a hurry to get home, including mei parents.”

  “Understandable, because of the weather.” Jakob wasn’t too thrilled she’d felt the need to say he was her last resort at the same time she was helping him out. Maybe he’d ask her about that.

  The bigger question, though, was why she would help him at all.

  3

  Mary stood there wondering why she’d come up with a fib to help Jakob. She could have just let him deal with Tabitha, who clearly had a crush on him. Who could blame her? She clenched her hands together. Where had that thought come from? More importantly, why hadn’t she minded her own business?

  “I see.” Tabitha gave Jakob a good-natured smile. “Maybe some other time, then?”

  “Maybe,” Jakob mumbled as Tabitha stepped away.

  Mary knew he wouldn’t be unkind enough to turn her down in front of anyone, but from the light that had shown in Tabitha’s eyes, it was clear she intended to take Jakob up on his hesitation.

  She turned her mind back to the task at hand. Usually, plenty of people stayed to help with cleanup, but tonight families wanted to get their children home right away when they heard the roads were getting slick. When her parents had been ready to leave, Mary told them she wanted to stay and help, that she didn’t mind walking home in the snow. Besides, she had warm clothes and boots, as well as a flashlight in her bag.

  Noting that Jakob’s parents had left, too, she shouldn’t have been surprised to realize he’d stayed to help as well.

  “What was that all about?” Jakob asked in a low voice.

  “What?” Mary said nonchalantly—or at least she tried to. Her voice cracked as she spoke. She immediately crossed the large room to the dessert tables, then placed both her empty platters and purse in a cardboard box. She didn’t need any help lugging the box home, which made her fib even more ridiculous.

  “Don’t play dumb.” He’d followed her.

  “Mary, would you mind locking up?” Tabitha called from the window across the room, now wrapping a scarf around her neck. “I know I live close by, but it looks like it’s getting bad out there.”

  “Not at all.” Mary waved to her.

  “Danki.” Tabitha paused before opening the front door. “I’ll see you soon, Jakob.”

  He cleared his throat. “Um, ya.”

  A woosh of cold air, snow, and wind blew inside the schoolroom as Tabitha left, prompting Mary to go to the window and watch Tabitha’s flashlight until its light bobbed up her porch steps. But it was getting harder to see through the falling snow. “Gut. She made it home.”

  Maybe she’d made a mistake not leaving with her parents. She hurried to where her hooded coat and scarf hung on a rack and her boots sat on the floor. She’d better leave now.

  “You can also stop ignoring me.” Jakob had followed her again.

  “I’m not ignoring you.” She turned and faced him. “If you haven’t noticed, it really is snowing harder.”

  He paused, frowning, then grabbed his coat and scarf and pulled a stocking cap over his hair. “Hang on a second,” he said. Then he stepped out the back door, closing it behind him. He wasn’t gone for more than a few seconds. “We can’t geh out there,” he said. “Not when it’s like this.”

  “What?” She dashed to the back door and opened it. Immediately the cold air took her breath away, and now the snow was blowing sideways. She shut the door and turned around. “But we can’t stay here.”

  “Why not? We can ride out the storm—and it is a storm now. It’s plenty warm enough, and if we have to, we can light up the stove again. I did it when I was a student here.”

  Mary remembered. When he was in sixth grade, Jakob started helping the teachers light the stove, even coming early before the school day began. By the time he was in eighth grade, he was lighting it by himself, the task an unofficial job. But that was Jakob. Kind and helpful, which made it easy for her to lie about him helping her take her platters home. That was something Jakob would do without a thought.

  But none of that was helping now. “I don’t want to stay here,” she said, going to the window. She silently offered a quick prayer, asking the Lord to stop the storm. But the wind rattled the windows.

  “You just don’t want to stay here alone with me.”

  She whirled around. “Not everything I do or say has to do with you,” she snapped.

  “I know that.” He held her gaze, his eyes impassive. “But that doesn’t change the fact that it’s too dangerous to walk home now.” He paused. “I’m glad Tabitha got home all right.”

  A thread of jealousy wound through her. Maybe she’d mistaken Jakob’s expression and body language when he was talking to Tabitha. She’d known him for so long that she thought she could read him like a favorite book. But that had been in the past. Maybe he’d changed since their breakup. Maybe he liked Tabitha and was interested in her, and she had interfered with that.

  The thread tightened.

  “We don’t have a choice,” Jakob said, taking a step toward her. “Unless you want to risk getting lost and freezing to death before anyone can find you.”

  “Don’t be so dramatic.” But she knew that was possible in a storm like this. Besides, knowing him, if she did leave, he’d insist on walking her home and then have to backtrack to his house. That wouldn’t be fair to him, and she didn’t want him in danger either. “Fine. But the minute we can leave, I’m heading out the door.”

  “Whatever,” he muttered, then strode to the other side of the classroom and sat on the wooden bench against the wall. The bricks and drywall above the seat were both painted white, and a long board with hooks drilled into it for the students to hang their belongings sat right above his head. He crossed his arms over his chest and stared straight ahead.

  Even though she was annoyed that she had to stay here with him, she couldn’t help but chuckle.

  He glared at her. “What’s so funny?”

  “You look like a kind in time-out.”

  He rolled his eyes. “I do feel like I’m being punished.”

  His words hit her square in the heart. “Because you’re here with me?”

  Jakob turned to her, still annoyed. “Look, you’re the one who doesn’t want to be here with me. How is that supposed to make me feel?”

  Again, another arrow to the heart, but this time it was accompanied by a dose of guilt. She hadn’t meant to make him feel bad, and she frowned, realizing how her response must have sounded to him.

  She blew out a weary breath. She’d managed to meet one of her commitments—bringing six dozen Christmas cook
ies to the program. But she was still trying to figure out how to decorate Quinn’s wedding cakes. She’d found time to get to the library to look through a couple of cake decorating books, but photos of the elaborate cakes nearly caused a panic attack. Should she try to make her cakes look like that?

  But she couldn’t think about the wedding, or about the pile of sewing she still had to do, or about the headache that had been dogging her all day and put her in a foul mood. Instead, she sat down next to Jakob. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad.”

  “Well, you did.” He relaxed a little, his shoulders not so tense. “I didn’t realize being in mei presence was such a hardship.”

  “It’s not. It’s just . . .”

  “Just what?”

  She looked down at her lap. She’d draped her scarf around her neck, and the fringe lay against her dress. She started to pick at it. “I didn’t want things to be awkward.”

  “Too late for that,” he said, turning his face away. “Things have been awkward for a long time.”

  Mary didn’t reply. What could she say when he was right?

  She had no idea how long they sat there in silence, she picking at her scarf while her head pounded, and he staring straight ahead while the winter wind howled outside. In between the noisy gusts of wind, she could hear the ticking of the battery-operated clock on the wall. It was only eight thirty. The storm could last for hours.

  Finally, Jakob spoke. “You never answered mei question.”

  She lifted her brow. “What question?”

  “Why did you tell Tabitha I said I would help you? Why did you lie to her?”

  “Technically, that’s two questions.”

  He rolled his eyes again, but this time a smile played at the corners of his mouth. “You know what I’m referring to.”

  “You looked like you could use a little help.” She straightened her scarf and patted it. “Tabitha obviously has her kapp set for you.”