An Amish Second Christmas

by Beth Wiseman

  Mrs. Paddock placed her free hand on her hip. The woman took a bite of the roll and smiled. She walked the perimeter of the room, staring at the walls as if she were seeing it for the first time. “I think it could work.”

  Noah let out a breath.

  “I assume they sell the display quilts.”

  “I can certainly find out.”

  “Do you have time to look at the displays today? I would like to decide on the pattern so you can get busy. I still want this finished by Christmas. A block of rooms have already been reserved for a group of cross-country skiers.”

  “Sure, how about now?” He didn’t want anything to stand in the way of securing this job. Christmas was less than two months away.

  “I have a few phone calls to make before I can leave.”

  “That’s fine. It takes me longer to get into town in mei buggy. I’ll meet you there.” Until she selected the design, he wouldn’t know if he had to order any special glass colors and that wouldn’t be before Monday.

  She nodded and then took another bite of the roll. “This is really good.”

  Noah smiled. “I think so too.” He’d eaten two of them on his way to the motel and would have eaten more had it not been for a sugar rush that made him shaky. Usually too much caffeine affected him that way, not sweets.

  Noah headed to the door. He wasn’t sure how long Mrs. Paddock’s calls would take, but his ol’ mare, Cracker, wasn’t as fast as she used to be. He didn’t want to keep Mrs. Paddock waiting.

  He reached for the door as she said, “Did you want to take the rest of your rolls?”

  “Nay, share them with your work crew.” He continued walking outside.

  Noah removed Cracker’s blanket and folded it. This morning when he hitched the buggy, he wasn’t sure if the gray clouds meant rain or snow. So far it hadn’t done either. Climbing onto the bench, he noticed Joy’s unopened letter. The traffic had been too heavy to read it earlier. He smiled, recalling the flicker in her eye when she playfully snatched the letter back. But once the customer entered the store, it was as if Joy panicked the way she shoved it into his hand.

  He clicked his tongue and Cracker’s ears perked as she increased the pace. He wasn’t on the road long before it started to rain. It turned to sleet as he reached the outskirts of town. A Closed sign hung in the bakery window. He wasn’t sure what type of vehicle Mrs. Paddock drove, but he hoped the parking lot at the fabric store was empty so he could sit and read Joy’s letter.

  He parked next to another buggy and spread the blanket over his horse. The letter would have to wait as several cars lined the building. He pressed his straw hat further on his head, but that didn’t keep his earlobes from numbing in the icy rain.

  Inside the fabric store a blast of heat met him. So did Joy.

  She wiggled her brows. “I must’ve been wrong earlier. This is two days in a row that you’ve visited the fabric store. Have you decided you want to learn how to sew?”

  “Only if you’re teaching the class.”

  Her eyes widened and she motioned to the opposite side of the room. “Meredith is with another customer. Is there something I can help you find?”

  “I gave your suggestion to the motel owner and she’s going to stop in and pick out a quilt she likes. They are for sale, right?”

  “Yes, but I’ll have to find out the price.”

  “You might as well wait until she selects one,” he said when she started to turn.

  “Okay. Let me know if you need anything else.”

  “Can I put a bakery order in for Monday?”

  She smiled. “Cinnamon rolls again?”

  “Surprise me.”

  “So you want a dozen of . . . anything?”

  He nodded. Anything that would give him a reason to see her again.

  “Do you like chocolate? Nuts? Any allergies?”

  Occupied by answering Joy’s questions, he didn’t notice Mrs. Paddock approach until she spoke.

  “I think we might get snow tonight,” Mrs. Paddock said, her attention already drawn to the quilts.

  He made a half shrug at Joy and trailed the Englischer to the different quilts. Several of them would be easy to copy. Most were straight cuts arranged in colorful block patterns.

  “I like this one.” She pointed to the quilt of roses in the shape of a heart.

  He studied the design. Not one simple cut.

  “Can you do it?”

  Noah cocked his head. “That’s—a lot of work.” A horse and buggy would have been simpler even without a pattern. He would have to start the project immediately. Since tomorrow wasn’t their Sunday to host the district services, he would be tempted to skip the afternoon fellowship to work in his shop. But his father, the district bishop, would disapprove. Besides, Noah would never challenge the Ordnung. The only work permitted on Sundays was tending livestock. Still, he would have to work night and day to finish by Christmas.

  Joy stepped closer. “Is there something I can help you with?”

  “Yes,” Mrs. Paddock said. “Could you tell me the price of this quilt?”

  “Excuse me while I get the information.”

  “You haven’t seen them all.” Noah motioned to the back of the store. “There are more displayed on the back wall.”

  Mrs. Paddock moved in that direction while he held his breath. But in the end, she still liked the rose quilt the best.

  Joy returned. “It’s seven hundred.”

  “Okay. I’ll take it.”

  “You do have a pattern for it?” Noah was quick to ask. He wouldn’t be able to do the design without one to follow.

  Joy nodded. “Jah, all the quilts on display have patterns.” She turned to Mrs. Paddock. “It might take a few minutes to get the quilt down, and it’s probably dusty after hanging several weeks.”

  “Can I pay for it today and come back on a later date?”

  “I’m sure that would be fine.” Joy craned her neck toward the register. “I see Meredith is free now. I’ll send her over.”

  Noah followed Joy. “Can I look at the pattern? Also, do you have the fabric in stock?”

  “Jah.” She stopped at a rack, thumbed through the different patterns, and handed it to him. “I’ll help you with the fabric in a minute. I need to tell Meredith about the purchase.”

  “Okay,” he mumbled as he opened the pattern. He hoped the design wasn’t as difficult as it looked. A few minutes passed and Joy came up to him loaded down with multiple bolts of fabric. He reached out his arms. “Let me carry those.”

  She released the stack to him. “You can set them on the cutting table.”

  He lowered the bolts and studied the colors. Two different shades of green for the leaves, red, pink, and black for the stems; he should have all the colors in stock.

  “How much yardage do you want?” She unrolled the first bolt.

  “I’m nett sewing anything.” His defensive tone caused her to blink. “Sorry.” He cracked a smile. “You haven’t told me when the classes start.”

  She cocked her head sideways and wagged the scissors.

  “I just need enough to match the color with the stained glass.”

  She snipped a small section and handed him the pieces.

  “Danki.” He nodded toward the quilt. “Do you want help taking it down?”

  “Probably, but let’s wait for Meredith to finish.” She piled the bolts at the end of the table. “I’m sure the window will be beautiful when you’re finished.”

  “I hope so.” He glanced toward the door as Mrs. Paddock was leaving. “She wants it done by Christmas.”

  A few moments later, he helped Joy and Meredith take down the quilt, paid for the pattern and swatches of fabric, then walked with Joy out to the buggies.

  “You think this rain will turn to snow?” She pulled her cape tighter around her neck.

  “It’d be better than sleet.” He unfastened her horse from the post, his conscience prodding him to set things straight about the lett
ers. He handed her the reins. “I’ll be in earlier than today to pick up mei bakery order.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “You opened mei letter, didn’t you?”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Noah wasn’t sure what prompted Joy to ask about the letter, but she sparked his curiosity. He stared at her a moment, then reached into his buggy and removed the letter. Relieved the traffic had been too thick to read it, he gave her a moment to inspect the envelope.

  “Satisfied?”

  Her accusatory glare softened. “Nau I’m embarrassed.”

  “Nay need to be.” He glanced at the letter clutched in her hand. She might change her mind and decide to mail it. Or worse yet, not send it at all.

  “I’ve never had a pen pal. It seems ridiculous at mei age.”

  He smiled. “Since you avoided telling me your age when I asked, I don’t find it ridiculous at all.”

  “I didn’t avoid it. I told you I didn’t give that information to strangers.”

  He nodded. “So you did.”

  “Have you ever had a pen pal?”

  “Jah.” He scuffed his boot over the wet ground. This was a perfect moment to confess the truth. But he disregarded the inner prompting and lifted his head. “I look forward to receiving her letters. I find her fascinating.” His shirt soaked, he had to fight to keep his teeth from chattering. Still, he didn’t want to leave.

  “We should get out of this weather before we catch pneumonia.” She opened her buggy door. “I’ll see you Monday.”

  He stepped closer and gingerly reached for the letter. “You still want me to deliver this, right?”

  Her eyes searching his, she tightened her grasp.

  He didn’t want to wait. If she sent it through the mail, he wouldn’t receive it until after work on Monday at the earliest.

  “Okay,” she said, releasing the envelope. “But don’t give it to him when anyone’s around.”

  “I didn’t before.”

  “But tomorrow is Sunday. There will be others around him all day.”

  “I’ll be discrete.” He opened his door and tossed the envelope on the bench before she changed her mind. The woman was as jittery as a newborn calf standing up for the first time. Maybe she was cold. “I probably need to get on the road. I have a two-hour ride home.”

  Her eyes widened. “Ach, jah, you better. It’ll be dark soon.”

  He chuckled. “Cracker isn’t afraid of the dark, but she will be ready to eat.”

  “I won’t keep you another minute.” She climbed into her buggy and shot him a quick wave before pulling away.

  He chided himself once she left. Sure, his heart was safer getting to know her through correspondence, but the guilt of not coming forth with his identity was something he didn’t want eating at him. He had to tell her, and the sooner the better.

  Joy smiled most of the ride home thinking about Noah. They hadn’t known each other long and yet he already felt like an old friend. The sun was setting when she reached the farm. Matthew’s buggy wasn’t under the lean-to. She hoped nothing was wrong. Her brother-in-law was always home at suppertime. She unhitched Candy and led the mare into the barn. After feeding, watering, and toweling off the horse’s wet coat, she headed into the house, needing to dry off herself.

  Joy entered the kitchen. Lantern light flickered against the wall in the otherwise dark room. Usually several lamps would be burning during mealtime. She removed her cape and winter bonnet as Lois rushed into the room.

  “I thought you were Matthew,” her sister said.

  “Is something wrong?”

  “When I was in town earlier I told you about the bishop, right?”

  “Jah, you said he’s in the hospital. Is it something more than pneumonia?”

  “Nay, Martha said he’s doing much better nau that he’s had a breathing treatment and antibiotics. But Brother Hershberger is still out of town and Brother Troyer isn’t feeling well himself, so Matthew was asked to send word to the bishop in one of Berlin’s districts and see if he could arrange someone to preach at tomorrow’s service.”

  As far as Joy could remember, they’d never had the bishop and both elders unavailable before. “The rain has turned to sleet. Hopefully he won’t be out in it too much longer.”

  Her sister went to the stove and stirred the pot. “I made stew. It’ll only take me a minute to warm it up. Philip and I ate earlier since I wanted him to take a bath so he’s clean for service tomorrow.”

  “I’m going to change out of these wet clothes.” Joy hurried up the stairs. She said a quick prayer for the bishop’s health and Matthew’s safety as she slipped into a dry dress, then plodded back to the kitchen.

  Lois lowered a ladleful of stew into a bowl. “So how was work?”

  Joy cringed. Her sister asked the same question earlier when she came into the bakery. “We had a few more customers.”

  “That’s gut.” She set the bowl on the table along with a basket of biscuits.

  Joy pulled a chair away from the table and sat. “You do know how important it is to have Second Christmas at the bakery, right?”

  Her sister nodded.

  “We have to stay open at least until then,” Joy said. “Promise me we will.”

  “I can’t make that promise.”

  Joy groaned. “Can you at least try to convince Matthew? This is our family’s bakery.”

  Lois drew a deep breath. “I understand why you’re upset. Please understand mei position. I must be submissive to mei husband. He is the head of this haus.”

  The baby’s cry summoned Lois’s attention and she left the room.

  Joy pushed the chunks of stew beef around in the bowl with her spoon. Her appetite was gone.

  Noah didn’t like to run Cracker over black ice, but thankfully the icy rain stopped, and he made good time getting home. After tending to Cracker, he tucked Joy’s letter into the quilt pattern envelope, along with the snippets of material, and trekked across the yard to the house.

  “Something smells gut.” He stepped inside and inhaled. Roast.

  His sister stopped pouring milk and glanced at him sideways. “You’re wet. What did you do, walk home?”

  He tugged on his shirt. “I was standing outside in the sleet talking with a friend. I didn’t have a towel in mei buggy to dry off.”

  “Anyone we know?” Stella mouthed Ruby then raised her brows.

  He ignored his sister and turned to his mother. “How long before supper?”

  “You have time to change your clothes before we eat,” Mamm said.

  Noah darted down the hall. He tossed the pattern on the bed and peeled off his shirt. He looked forward to reading Joy’s letter, but he would do that after supper. Noah returned to the kitchen and took his place at the table. His family was seated and waiting on him. He bowed his head, thanked God silently for the food and for his safe trip home.

  “Tomorrow I’ll be giving the Sunday service for Bishop Byler’s district. We’ll have to leave early,” his father said.

  Noah nodded. He didn’t know Bishop Byler or where his district was located. Over the years, his father had filled in multiple times when a district lost their bishop. Sometimes the distance was too far to travel by horse and buggy and he’d hire a driver to drop them off and then pick them up later in the afternoon. Spending the entire day in a different settlement was awkward. He wouldn’t know anyone. At twenty-six, he didn’t really fit in with the married or unmarried men. But he couldn’t turn his father down. He was well into his sixties with failing health and he needed someone more than his mother to be near should anything happen. Besides, if he stayed home he would be tempted to start working on the stained glass design.

  The table conversation blurred into the background and he thought of Joy’s letter on the bed. He ate quickly and even turned down a piece of his mother’s pineapple upside-down cake.

  Mamm frowned. “You’re nett getting sick, are you?”

  “Nay.” He shoved his chair away from the t
able and stood. “I think I’ll read for a while and turn in early.” Someone knocked on the front door as he was leaving the kitchen. “I’ll get it.” He opened the wooden door and stared at the visitor.

  “Hello, Noah.” Ruby’s soft-spoken voice was as sweet as he remembered.

  He cast those thoughts aside. “What brings you back to town?”

  “It’s only been a couple of years.”

  “Four.”

  She swept her hand over her cloak. “Well, I’m back home nau.”

  Noah had waited a long time to hear those words. He had only recently started praying that God would free him of both the love he felt for her and the resentment he harbored toward her leaving.

  “I, um . . . I wanted to talk with the bishop, if he isn’t busy.”

  Noah stepped aside. “He’s in the kitchen.”

  “Danki.” She drew a noticeably deep breath, blew it out, then proceeded forward. The lilac scent that trailed her indicated she hadn’t left all of the Englisch lifestyle behind.

  As Ruby turned toward the kitchen, he went the opposite direction. Whatever she wanted to discuss with his father didn’t concern him. He was free of Ruby. Yet his own words haunted him. If you love someone, set them free, and if they return . . .

  Noah sank onto his mattress, letter in hand. He reached the part where Joy complained about not getting the money up front for the cinnamon rolls and chuckled. No wonder she was concerned that he may have read the letter. He removed a tablet of paper from the top shelf of his closet and had a full page written in a matter of minutes.

  . . . You’re not the only pushover. I’m one too. To quote your words, “You, on the other hand, have probably never been in love,” is far from the truth. I fell in love with a woman who was a talented seamstress, and like you and Henry, Ruby and I had made plans to marry. Only she never found me with someone else in my arms. Our relationship ended not long after she took a job at one of the dress shops in town. I thought it was a bad idea and it was. Instead of using her talent to serve God and our settlement, she made immodest clothing that the Englischers bought to wear to fancy parties. I still think she attracted the enemy and fell to his flattery. She chose being a seamstress and wearing immoral clothes over the Amish way . . . over me.