“What if we held a big party at The Marketplace on Second Christmas, for anyone who cared to come—and they could even bring their visiting families?” Martin asked excitedly. “That would be a great place for us to sing. And we’d have room for a couple hundred people there.”
Beside Martin, Preacher Ammon raised his eyebrows. “I get tired just thinking about all the extra activities we try to cram into the Christmas—”
“Sounds like a great way to visit with folks without having them at your house all evening,” Matthias put in. “That way, babies could nap in peace and the folks who wanted to party could enjoy their time together as late as they cared to stay up.”
Jeremiah was listening closely to these ideas. “We can speak to Jo about that and reserve the space,” he suggested. “It would be a gut chance for us to sing together as well as an opportunity for folks to mingle with other families’ guests.”
“Because sometimes spending all that time with your own relatives gets tiresome,” Gabe teased.
The room rang with merriment that Jeremiah was pleased to share. None of these fellows seemed eager to quiz him about Lydianne’s situation—if they even knew about it. After the week he’d spent defending her to two demanding church leaders, he was happy to think ahead to brighter times—occasions when he and Lydianne could be together as a couple.
Gabe was about to blow into his pitch pipe for “The First Noel” when voices in the kitchen caught everyone’s attention. Jeremiah heard his mother offering to look after baby Levi and share a doughnut and cider with Billy Jay, which meant Elva Detweiler probably needed a break from her childcare routine.
When Glenn entered the front room just ahead of his dat, he nodded at everyone. “Sorry we’re late,” he said as he and Reuben slipped into the last two chairs. “Mamm’s worn thin tonight, so we brought the boys with us.”
“Glad you could make it,” Jeremiah said. He couldn’t begin to imagine how tired Elva must get looking after an energetic seven-year-old and a newborn, not to mention her grieving son and her aging husband. At seventy-two she was a prime example of a woman who’d stepped in to do what needed to be done after tragedy had struck her family. Jeremiah had always admired her, even if her hearing loss meant she spoke very loudly and he had to repeat whatever he said to her.
“I’m going to have a couple of these doughnuts for my supper,” Reuben remarked, gazing at the three that remained on the platter. “Elva didn’t fix enough to amount to anything this evening. I keep telling her she needs to get checked for her diabetes and that heart problem the doctor warned her about years ago, but she won’t listen to me. Says she’s got no time to be sick or go to the doctor.”
“No, Dat, it was last night that Mamm’s meal ran a little short,” Glenn reminded him gently. “She was out of almost everything until we went shopping this morning, remember? And you ate two big bowls of her beef and beans for supper.”
With an apologetic glance at Jeremiah and Gabe, Glenn said, “You fellows go ahead and start the singing. We’ll catch up to you when we’ve had a doughnut and some cider.”
As Gabe led them into “The First Noel” again, Jeremiah assessed what he’d just heard. Reuben had apparently forgotten the meal he’d eaten an hour ago, and Glenn’s tone made it sound as though he’d steered his dat’s wandering mind back on track more than once recently. Despite Reuben and Elva’s boasts about how healthy they’d remained without seeing a doctor, Jeremiah told himself it was time to talk with them about going in for medical checkups.
Jeremiah also realized that Glenn could use some friendly attention, and that it was time for him to let go of the hostility he’d felt because his younger, recently widowed friend had been keen for Lydianne’s affection.
As the group began singing “It Came Upon the Midnight Clear,” the poignant words and melody seemed to be coming from God Himself. The verse about bending low beneath life’s load and toiling with painful slowness was a perfect description of life at the Detweiler place, wasn’t it? Jeremiah reminded himself that it was time for him to behave like a bishop instead of a rival boyfriend. If anyone needed a chance to rest beside the weary road while the angels sang, it was Glenn.
You’ve given me fresh hope and a chance at a new beginning, Lord, he prayed as he watched Reuben and Glenn lick the powdered sugar from their fingers. Help me be the blessing Glenn and his family so badly need.
* * *
As Lydianne arrived at The Marketplace on Saturday, she felt brighter and more lighthearted than she had in weeks. Maybe it was the baskets of shiny red apples arranged in front of the Wengerd Nursery storefront, or the aromas of the fresh-brewed coffee, cinnamon rolls, and warm cider Jo was selling that filled her heart with the joyful glory of autumn.
No, silly, you’re excited about the phone message Jeremiah left you, asking you to join him after you get off work this evening.
Lydianne reminded herself that if she went around with a lovesick grin on her face, her maidel friends would soon be quizzing her about it. When she saw the Helfing twins arriving with big boxloads of bagged noodles, she rushed over to help them. “Do you have more boxes to carry in?” she asked. “My word, it seems you bring more and more noodles as the weeks go by.”
Molly laughed out loud. “Well, that was our original plan, ain’t so—to increase our sales?” she pointed out. “But I think we’ve reached our maximum capacity now.”
“Jah,” Marietta chimed in from behind the box she was carrying. “We worked every possible hour we had this week. It’s gut that folks like our varieties of noodles, but it makes for a tiring life, you know?”
“We’ve got one more box. If you want to bring it in, bless your heart, Lydianne,” Molly said over her shoulder. She deftly balanced her lightweight but bulky box against her hip to unlatch the gate to their store. “I suspect several of the noodles in that last box are broken, seeing’s how Riley knocked it out of my hands when he got so excited to see me. Dumb dog. I keep threatening to send him off to the home for wayward dogs, but he’s not a bit afraid that I’ll really do that.”
“If there was such a place,” Marietta clarified with a chuckle. “Luckily, that’s a box of flat egg noodles, and if they’re broken, it’s not the end of the world. They’re still fine for the casseroles and soups most folks use them for.”
Lydianne laughed. Molly’s tone of voice was so affectionate any time she talked about Pete’s golden retriever that it was doubtful she’d get rid of Riley. After some of the tales the twins had told after church recently, it was more likely they’d send Pete packing than his dog.
When she’d gently deposited the final box of noodles on the floor of the twins’ shop, the sisters thanked her. “Do you suppose we should sell them at a discount?” Marietta asked as she peered through the clear bags to see if their contents were damaged.
“Just my opinion,” Lydianne said, “but when I’ve bought any sort of pasta at the grocery store, some of it’s been broken—even if it’s packed in a box instead of a bag.”
Marietta’s grateful smile was a fine sight. She was still underweight after enduring her long, difficult chemo treatment, but her spirits were strong and she was regaining her physical strength, as well. “That’s gut to know. We wouldn’t have any idea about—”
“When you grow up with a mamm who runs a noodle company,” Molly put in, “you never ever buy pasta from the store!”
Lydianne laughed, and after she wished them a good day of sales, she followed her nose to the adjoining shop. Jo was pulling two large pans of cinnamon rolls from her oven, setting them on her butcher-block worktable beside the big bowl of frosting she’d made for them.
“All right, missy, confess,” Lydianne teased as she glanced at the clock above the sink. “It’s only seven-thirty and you’ve already made the dough for these, rolled them out and spread them with filling, and let them rise—twice? What time do you get here on Saturdays, anyway?”
Jo waggled her eyebrows. “I have
a secret,” she teased in a furtive voice. “I make up a double batch of dough at home on Friday nights and keep it in the fridge. Saves me time on Saturday mornings, and I’m always sure to have fresh rolls ready when the doors open at nine.”
“And the entire Marketplace already smells like cinnamon and sugar when the customers arrive,” Lydianne remarked.
“I consider that free advertisement. It entices our guests beyond their ability to resist my treats,” Jo said with a chuckle. “But of course, my mamm says I’ve become too focused on my business to be any help to her at home.”
Lydianne wasn’t surprised about Drusilla Fussner’s attitude, yet it made her curious. “What does she say about the extra income you’ve been earning? Surely that counts for something—and so does the rent you get from the Wengerds, jah?”
Jo flashed her a long-suffering smile. “We spend some of the rent money for household expenses and bank the rest,” she replied. “But when I tell her I’ve also been depositing my profits from the shop—for a time when we might not be able to run our roadside stand—she waves me off. Apparently, she doesn’t figure on living beyond her ability to pay the bills.”
“That’s impressive,” Lydianne murmured. “Most maidels and widows eventually become dependent upon a male in their family, even when they’d hoped not to.”
“You know mamm. Never satisfied.” Jo began spreading the white frosting over the tops of the hot rolls. “Not long ago, Nelson and Michael told us they plan to sell hundreds of poinsettias here during the holidays, and they even invited us to see their greenhouses in Queen City,” she said wistfully. “But of course, Mamm shut them down by saying how such a long trip in a rig would be hard on her. And why would they want to look at her sourpuss expression or listen to her complaints for nearly three hours in each direction?”
It struck Lydianne like lightning—Jo was seriously sweet on Michael, and she’d give anything to see the Wengerd nurseries, to spend the time with him. In all the years she’d known Jo, this was the first time Lydianne had gotten any hint that her tall, stocky, long-limbed friend aspired to romance.
But why wouldn’t she? Didn’t every girl grow up dreaming of the day she’d marry and have a family?
“Couldn’t you go without your mamm?” she asked softly. “It’s not as though you have to do everything together—”
“And spend a couple of days with two men, unchaperoned?” Jo shot back. “Mamm would say I was on the road to hell in a handbasket if I did that!”
“Ah. I forgot about Michael’s mamm not being there. Which means that Nelson would make a wonderful-gut companion for Drusilla—”
“Don’t waste your breath!” Jo exclaimed with a shake of her head. “Nelson’s a kind, considerate fellow, even when Mamm’s behaving like—well, her usual self. But she would never in a million years pair up with him, or any other fellow.
“And what man would have her?” Jo continued sadly. “That’s a terrible thing to say about your own mother, but it’s true. She drives everyone away with her complaining.”
Squeezing her friend’s shoulder, Lydianne considered a more cheerful topic of conversation. “What do I need to do today? Will anyone want extra help in their shop, or shall I go upstairs and update the bookkeeping?”
Jo glanced at the clock. “You could do an hour’s worth of accounting before we’ll know if anyone’s short-handed,” she pointed out, returning to her usual practical frame of mind. “And take this with you.”
She pulled a small plate from her open cabinet and placed a warm cinnamon roll on it. “Denki for being a friend and listening to my bellyaching, Lydianne,” she murmured. “If I’m not careful, I’ll end up being just like Mamm, ain’t so?”
Lydianne blinked. She had no trouble envisioning Jo spending the rest of her life on the Fussner home place, taking care of her mother—yet she wanted to believe that so much more was in store for the competent, caring woman who stood beside her.
“I don’t see that happening, Jo,” she replied firmly. “You never know what God’s got up His sleeve, just waiting for the right time to reveal it to you.”
Jo glanced away, yet when she focused on Lydianne again, her lips were twitching with a grin. “You’re right, of course. After all, He’s brought you and the bishop together. And who could’ve foreseen that?”
“Don’t put the cart before the horse,” Lydianne insisted as she accepted the huge cinnamon roll. But she didn’t dispute what Jo had said—because what good would that do? Jo, the Helfings, and Regina had been around too many times when Jeremiah had shown up unexpectedly for her to deny the relationship that was budding between them. “God brought Regina and Gabe together, too, so we’ll see what happens next for all of us, won’t we?”
“We will,” Jo agreed with a nod. “With God, anything is possible.”
When Lydianne got to the upstairs office, she found a few receipts and notes on the worktable alongside the ledger. Her maidel friends very efficiently kept track of buying such items as toilet paper and paper towels for the restroom, as well as cleaning supplies—but it was the income column that made her smile as she scanned the notations of recent sales totals and the shopkeepers’ monthly rent payments.
The Marketplace was also taking in some nice fees from a few local groups that were already booking holiday parties in the big reception area. Lydianne recorded the dates on their business calendar, and she was making notes about when she or Regina needed to work at those parties when a movement in the doorway made her look up.
Jeremiah’s grin made her suck in her breath. Placing a finger on his lips to signal that she should be quiet, he closed the door behind him and carefully crossed the floor to slip into the chair beside hers.
“How much can folks underneath us hear when you move around up here?” he whispered.
As his breath tickled her ear, Lydianne’s pulse raced. “I don’t know,” she replied softly. “What brings you up here to—”
“So we’ll sit very still, and we won’t talk.” Jeremiah was a man keen on his purpose, if his bottomless brown eyes were any indication. Before she could ask him anything more, he kissed her gently, cradling her face in his broad, warm hand. As he deepened the kiss, Lydianne melted against him and got hopelessly, helplessly lost in the sweetness of his insistent lips. Questions about everyday matters ceased to exist as his thorough mouth let her know exactly how much he wanted her.
With a sigh, he finally broke away. “I couldn’t wait until this afternoon to see you,” he whispered, “so I slipped in the back way and came straight up the stairs, hoping you’d be here. With only a few minutes until the shops open, I’m figuring none of your friends will venture upstairs and find us.”
His words were sweet and welcome, for her ears alone, after he’d had to defend her to other church members during the past week. “I told Jo I’d work on the books for a while and then check to see if anyone needed my help—”
“Oh, help me again, sweetheart,” Jeremiah murmured before closing his eyes and meeting her lips once again.
Lydianne poured herself into the kiss, feeling wonderfully liberated even as she sensed it wouldn’t be long before Jeremiah claimed her as much more than his sweetheart. As he pulled her closer, his love—his need for her—swept her into a state of awareness of his freshly showered scent and the smoothness of his shaved cheeks above the soft beard that brushed her chin. It would be so easy to succumb to the way he was awakening needs that had lain dormant for so long.
“Better stop right now, while I can.” Jeremiah held her gaze, his eyes mere inches from hers as he inhaled deeply to settle himself. “It’s been way too long since—well, we’d best not talk about that. Let’s just say I’m hoping we can keep kissing this way, and that we’ll come to a day when we don’t have to stop there, Lydianne. Thinking about that possibility kept me awake most of the night.”
Lydianne swallowed hard. “I hope I won’t disappoint you, seeing’s how you’ve had a lot more experience
with—”
“You can’t possibly disappoint me, Sunshine. I’m too far gone—too much in love with you to be concerned about anything except how happy you make me feel. So—” Jeremiah’s smile brightened the entire office as he backed away from her. He glanced at her ledger and calendar, and then spotted the cinnamon roll. “We can’t let this get stale, now, can we? Talk to me, Lydianne. Steer my mind back toward safer thoughts before I have to go downstairs.”
She laughed softly, opening her mouth as he held a chunk of the cinnamon roll in front of her. As he helped himself to a bite, she savored the pastry’s spicy sweetness. “When you came in, I was making notes on the reservations we’ve already gotten for holiday parties,” she remarked, gesturing toward the calendar.
Jeremiah’s eyebrows rose. “Which reminds me that Martin suggested we plan an evening of food and music on Second Christmas,” he said. “I hope the twenty-sixth of December’s still open?”
Lydianne pulled the calendar over to them, nodding. “That falls on a Thursday, and English folks are booking the Saturdays in December, so I’ll put it down. What a fine idea!”
Jeremiah chuckled. “It all started when Gabe was refreshing our memories on some carol harmonies last night—in case we men have the occasion to sing as a group, as we did at the reunions.”
“Well, if you create the occasion, everyone’s sure to come, jah?” she asked lightly. “Who wouldn’t want to hear you men sing—and then sing along? Carols sound even better when a whole roomful of people are joining in.”
“We think alike, you and I,” he murmured. As he unwound another few inches of the cinnamon roll, he winked at her. “I’ll just help myself to another mouthful of this roll before I leave you to your work. Hopefully, no one will spot me. There’ll be no end to the teasing and questions—not that I can’t handle that.”
First Light in Morning Star Page 22