An Amish Christmas Wedding

by Amy Clipston

  He sighed. “I know. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t handle her.”

  “I know you, Jakob. You wouldn’t hurt her feelings . . .” She looked away.

  “Unlike when I hurt yers?” He paused. “Is that it? Did I hurt you when we broke up?”

  She waved him off and stood. “Whatever happened between us is in the past.” She stepped to the window and looked outside. To her chagrin, the snow was still blowing.

  “Is it?” She heard the floor creak as he came up behind her. “From the way you’ve been acting—and still are—I don’t think it is.”

  * * *

  Jakob was standing closer to Mary than he had since their breakup. Just not as close as he wanted to, but he’d have to figure that out later. Right now they needed to clear the poisoned air between them, separating them for way too long.

  He’d seen the look of pain in her eyes when she jumped up from the bench. He hadn’t expected that. If she’d been hurting all this time, she’d hidden it well. But now, as she was wont to do, she was avoiding facing whatever was really going on inside her. What was really going on between them.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She moved closer to the window until she was pressed against the wall.

  “You do, but as usual you don’t want to discuss it.” He backed away, literally and figuratively, and sat back down on the bench. It was as if she wanted to melt into the woodwork, and he wasn’t going to push her. He leaned his head against the wall behind him, which was cold. In fact, the whole room was getting colder, just not enough for him to go to the basement and start up the stove. He’d do that only if they couldn’t stand the chill anymore.

  Mary moved to the coatrack and put on her coat. Then she stood by the gas lamp as if the meager amount of heat it emitted would warm her. She put her hands in her pockets and didn’t say another word.

  Lord knew, he was tired of riding this emotional roller coaster, but he couldn’t help it. Despite his annoyance, his heart softened. Mary began to shiver. He rose from the bench, then slipped off his coat and put it around her shoulders, just as he’d been tempted to do last week when she’d stepped onto her home’s porch in the cold. He was glad he’d worn the pullover sweater. “Better?”

  She turned around. He was close to her again, but now they were face-to-face.

  “You don’t have to do that,” she said.

  “I know.”

  Her brow furrowed, and when he recognized her expression, he felt foolish that he hadn’t paid more attention to it earlier. “Headache?”

  She nodded. “It’s been with me most of the day.”

  No wonder she’d been so grouchy. Mary didn’t get too many headaches, but when she did, they were long-lasting. He’d been so wrapped up in how things were between them that he hadn’t noticed she was in physical pain. “You should sit down.”

  “I don’t need to sit down.”

  But he put his hand on her elbow and led her back to the bench. When she tried to shrug off his coat, he pulled it closed around her. “Did you take something for it?”

  “Aspirin.” She freed one hand and put her fingertip to her left temple. “It didn’t help much.” She closed her eyes.

  “You’ve been doing too much, haven’t you?” Jakob scooted closer. “That’s usually what brings these headaches on.”

  “Nee, I’m—” She sighed, and her shoulders slumped. “You’re right. I still can’t hide anything from you.”

  The reminder that they knew each other better than anyone else knew them hit him. That was one reason they’d thought their romantic relationship could work. They didn’t have to go through any of the stages designed to get to know each other on a deeper level. But in the end, that hadn’t mattered. Their attempted romance ruined everything. “What has you overwhelmed?”

  “The wedding cakes for Quinn.”

  He frowned. “I’ve never known you to be bothered by baking. You enjoy it so much.”

  She looked up at him. “Have you ever seen Yankee wedding cakes? They’re so fancy and intricate. I saw a picture of one that had pearls and diamonds draped around it.” Her eyes grew round. “Can you believe that?”

  “Ya. But I can’t believe Quinn would want that.”

  Mary glanced at her lap. “You’re right. She would want something much simpler.”

  “And simple yet pretty is what you can do well.” He cupped his hands together and blew on them. “Quinn is also a lifelong friend. You know her almost as well as you know . . .”

  “As well as I know you.” She took off her scarf and handed it to him. “Here.”

  “I’m okay—”

  Before he could say anything else, she leaned closer and wrapped the scarf around his neck. She smelled like sugar and peppermint, and she was close enough that it wouldn’t take much effort to kiss her. For some bizarre reason, that was exactly what he wanted to do.

  Mary whispered, her hands still holding the ends of the scarf. “I don’t understand,” she said, her voice sounding small and soft.

  “What?” He barely registered her question, unable to draw his attention away from her lips, then her eyes.

  “What went wrong between us?”

  4

  Mary’s voice trembled, and it wasn’t because she was cold. In fact, she was far from cold cocooned in Jakob’s coat, the one he’d worn for years. The familiar scent of woodsmoke and sawdust filled her senses as she held his gaze, her headache forgotten. All she could focus on was him—and grappling with why their relationship had crumbled when she felt like she did now.

  He cleared his throat and removed the scarf from around his neck. He handed it to her and stood, then started to pace, his hands in his pockets.

  She stared at the scarf, feeling the same rejection she’d experienced the night they broke up. She didn’t understand her feelings then, just as she didn’t understand them now. Why did she feel hurt when there was nothing to be hurt about? They’d both wanted to stop dating. He didn’t have to answer her question about what went wrong, and he didn’t have to wear her scarf. He didn’t owe her anything.

  Jakob stopped pacing and stood in front of her. “I don’t know,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. “I just knew things between us had changed too much. I always felt different around you when we were dating. Always . . .”

  “Tense?”

  “Ya. That’s a gut way to describe it. Things weren’t as easy between us as when we were just friends. Everything felt so . . . forced.”

  She nodded and rose from the bench. “That’s exactly how I felt. I wondered when we should hold hands, how close we should sit next to each other, when—or even if—we should . . . you know. Kiss.” Her face heated, and she couldn’t look at him.

  “Gut thing we never did.” He chuckled, but it sounded strained. “Imagine how weird we’d feel around each other now if we had.”

  “That would be horrible.” She tried to make her tone light, but as she met his eyes again, seeing them darken to a charcoal color, all she could think about was kissing him. Which was crazy. They’d just admitted kissing would probably have been the worst thing that could have happened between them.

  No, the worst thing was the end of their friendship. And thinking about kissing must be because she was so tired and had a headache. At least her headache was starting to subside, thank goodness.

  Jakob took a step toward her. “Mary, I can’t stand that we’re not friends anymore. It doesn’t seem right.”

  “I feel the same way.”

  “Do you think we can try again?” A smile played at the corners of his mouth. “I don’t mean dating. We already know that doesn’t work. But we do know our friendship did.”

  Mary nodded, unable to keep from smiling. “Ya. It did. I’m willing to try again.”

  Jakob grinned. “I’m glad to hear that.”

  She held out her scarf. “Now will you take this?”

  He put it around her neck. “Nice and warm.” Then he
stepped to the window. “I think it’s finally settling down out there. We shouldn’t be stuck here much longer.”

  She moved to stand by him, and for the first time in a long time, she felt comfortable in his company. She peered out the window and nodded, then turned to him. “But it’s a gut thing we were stuck here.”

  “Ya,” he said quietly. “A very gut thing.”

  * * *

  Half an hour later the storm had cleared enough that Jakob thought it was safe to walk home. But as Mary locked the schoolhouse entrance behind him, he was glad he’d pulled his cap well over his ears. The snowfall had lightened considerably, but the temperature had dropped again.

  They waded through several inches of snow to the road, and then they both turned toward Mary’s house. She focused his pocket flashlight on the deserted road. “Once we get to yer haus, you don’t have to walk me home,” she said, her voice muffled under the scarf she’d wrapped around her face. “I have mei own flashlight.”

  “But you know I will.” He grasped the box of platters tighter. “By the way, I got only one of yer cookies.”

  “I’ll make you more.”

  The wind whirled around them, and neither of them spoke as they trudged onward. When they came to his house, he kept on, not even when Mary paused. She quickened her steps, crunching the snow, then caught up to him.

  “You’re so stubborn,” she snapped.

  “And that’s why you . . .” He swallowed the last two words. Love me. For years they had joked like that, knowing the love between them was only as friends—and on a spiritual level, as brother and sister in Christ. That teasing had gone out the window when they started dating. The strain between them was gone now, but he wasn’t ready to go back to throwing the word love around. He probably never should have.

  If Mary noticed his sudden silence, she didn’t acknowledge it. When they reached her driveway, light streaming from a front window of the house, she turned to him and reached for the box. “I can make it the rest of the way myself.”

  “I know, but I’ll carry this to yer door.”

  “Only if you’ll come inside to warm up before you leave.”

  A tempting offer, since the bitter wind seemed to have seeped into his bones. Even so, he didn’t want his parents to worry. “Another time. I need to get home.”

  “I’ll hold you to it.”

  “But I am going as far as the porch.”

  When they reached the steps, Mary put her hands on the box and peered at him. All he could see were her eyes and the bridge of her nose. Still cute. “Let geh, Jakob.”

  Knowing she would argue with him until Christmas, he handed her the box. She nodded her thanks and turned to go up the steps. Thankfully, someone had recently swept them clear of most of the snow, probably Wayne. He started to turn around to head home.

  Suddenly Mary’s feet flew out from under her, and she hit the ground. He ran to her. “Are you okay?”

  She started to push herself up to a sitting position. “Ya—ow!”

  He saw her gripping her left arm. “Are you in pain?”

  She nodded. “I think I hit mei elbow on the edge of the step.” She looked at him, wincing.

  Jakob moved to the other side of her and helped her to her feet. Emptied out of the box, her purse and the unbroken platters lay in the snow. He’d come back for them later.

  He started to help Mary up the steps, but then he spotted a patch of ice at the bottom of the first one. Without hesitation, he swooped her into his arms and sidestepped the ice, then carried her to the door.

  5

  The next afternoon, Mary sat on her living room couch, her left arm in a cast, trying to figure out what to do. And not just about Quinn’s cakes and her seamstress work, although both were pressing heavily on her mind because she couldn’t exactly bake and sew with a broken elbow. No, something was more disturbing than being unable to fulfill her commitments—her reaction to Jakob carrying her into the house.

  She was still surprised he’d lifted her that way. He could have simply helped her inside by letting her lean on him. But instead he’d swept her up like she was a princess in one of those fairy-tale books, and for a split second, she’d felt like a princess. That alarmed her, because for one thing, she was no princess and had never wished to be. More importantly, though, she’d experienced something with Jakob for the first time—feeling wonderfully safe and secure deep inside, in his arms. Being held by him had felt so good. After so many months of everything between her and Jakob being wrong, suddenly it all felt right.

  And that was a problem.

  Mamm came in and set a cup of tea and a pumpkin muffin on the coffee table in front of the couch, then sat down next to her. “How are you feeling?”

  Very confused. “All right,” she said, staring at the cup of tea, glad neither of her parents had asked questions about Jakob walking her home.

  “Are you in much pain?”

  “It’s not too bad.”

  After Jakob had lowered her to the couch, Mamm examined her swollen elbow and forearm. She suspected she needed an X-ray, and Daed called a taxi driver he knew had snow tires on his car. Fortunately, the man had been willing to take her to the hospital. Jakob stayed until the taxi arrived, even watching as she and her parents pulled out of the driveway.

  “Gut,” Mamm said, interrupting her thoughts. “Remember you have the pain pills the doctor prescribed if you need them.”

  Mary nodded, then lifted her gaze, noticing Mamm’s treadle sewing machine in the corner of the living room. A pile of fabric and projects sat on the table beside it. “I’m sorry,” she said, sighing. “I said I wouldn’t let you down, and I have.”

  “Nonsense. You slipped on some ice and fell. That’s not yer fault.”

  Mary knew that, but she shrugged anyway. “I should have been more careful.”

  A knock sounded at the door, and Mamm got up to answer it. “Hello, Jakob,” she said, opening the door wider. “Come on in.”

  Jakob closed the door behind him. “I stopped by to check on Mary.”

  “She’s right here on the couch.” Mamm stepped aside, then added, “I’ll geh make you a cup of kaffee.”

  “Danki.” As Mamm left the room, Jakob turned to her. “How’s the arm?”

  “Broken elbow.” Mary sighed again and gestured to the cast. “I’ll be in this thing for six weeks.”

  Jakob frowned. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “So was I.” She moved to lift her cup of tea with her right hand, even though she wasn’t interested in drinking anything. She just needed something to do so she didn’t have to look at him. Or stare at him, actually, which was what she wanted to do. All these years of friendship, and even when they dated, she’d known he was handsome. But now being with him set her stomach fluttering. What in the world was going on with her? She fumbled with the teacup.

  Jakob hurried over and helped her steady the cup. His fingers brushed hers, and the flutter reappeared. Now that he was a few inches away from her, she had to look at him, and this time she couldn’t look away.

  He cleared his throat, then backed his way to the front door. “Sorry. I made a mess of the floor,” he said, slipping off his boots.

  “It’s fine.” Oh great. Now she sounded a little breathless. She took a sip of the tea, which was too hot and burned her tongue. Wincing, she set it back down.

  “Does it hurt a lot?” Jakob sat on the chair across from her.

  Assuming he meant her arm, she was about to tell him it didn’t, that she was just fine. But he could always tell when she tried to lie. “Ya. I have some medicine, but that’s only if I can’t stand the pain anymore. Right now it’s tolerable.”

  A relieved look crossed his face. “That’s gut to hear.” Instead of sitting back in the chair, relaxed like he used to be when there, he sat perched at the edge. His expression turned tense. Oh no. They had just settled things between them, and now he was going back to being wary of her.

  “So wh
at are you going to do about Tabitha?” she blurted, eager for anything to break the tension growing between them. Before they dated, they hadn’t shied away from talking about each other’s romantic problems. “She’s definitely smitten with you.”

  “Well, mei schwester asked me to walk mei youngest niece to school this morning because of the deep snow, and I saw Tabitha talking to that guy who used to live here, the one who was at church a couple of weeks ago.”

  “Mark?”

  “Ya. That’s him. I couldn’t remember his name. According to mei nosy niece, he’s single and came back to the area to see Tabitha. She seemed interested in him too. That makes me wonder just how smitten with me she actually is.” Grinning, he shook his head, then said, “Never mind about Tabitha. I’ll straighten her out if I have to.”

  “It sounds like you won’t have to.”

  “Which is a relief.” He looked at her with some intensity, but not in a bad way. “Do you need anything?”

  “Not unless you know how to bake and sew,” she said with a weak chuckle. She was glad their conversation had become lighthearted, but that didn’t address her problem.

  His face brightened. “I can’t sew, but I do know a little about baking.”

  “Very little.” She smirked, then added, “I was kidding anyway.” She looked at her lap. “I’ll have to tell Quinn I can’t make her cakes.”

  “Maybe you won’t.”

  Her head snapped up. “Of course I will. With me out of commission, Mamm will be busier than ever with our sewing. So she can’t help me. And I might be able to bake a cake with one hand, but I doubt I can decorate one. At least not so it looks like a wedding cake should.”

  He grinned again. “But with mei help, you can.”

  Her heart skipped a beat at his smile, but she ignored it. “How can you help me?”

  “I don’t know, but I’m sure we can figure out something. We used to make a pretty gut team, remember?”

  She did remember, and she couldn’t help but smile. When they were school age, they’d paired up in a picnic potato sack race and won first place. They’d also helped each other’s families during harvesttime and had come up with their own system for picking some of the crops, often making it into a friendly competition. She knew she could think of numerous examples of the two of them working well together, but she wasn’t sure it was possible this time. “Do you know how complicated decorating a cake can be? Even a simple one?”