An Amish Second Christmas

by Beth Wiseman

  Besides, it wasn’t a date. Just pie and conversation.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Ammon had scanned all the tables and there was only one that didn’t have an opening bid. From the way men hovered around certain tables, he guessed that they knew better than he whose pie was whose. Yet someone in this room must be feeling bad that her pie wasn’t bid on. Ammon approached the table, gazing down at the pie, and then moved his attention to the bid sheet. He thought about the money that Abe Sommer just gave him for working on their guest cabin. He didn’t need the money, not really. He picked up the pencil and, with a smile, placed a very nice bid.

  The room buzzed with excitement as the timer, set on the table nearest to the kitchen, ticked down.

  “Two minutes left,” he heard someone next to him say.

  An older woman, who was mingling through the crowd, laughed as she walked from sheet to sheet. “Why, I’m certain this just might be the best fund-raiser for the fire department yet! Some of these pies are going for as much as a quilt at the summer auction.” She elbowed Amos who was standing next to her. “That only means one thing . . . some of these bachelors came to the area for a buck and bragging rights in hunting, but they’ll be taking home much more.”

  Ammon chuckled along with the rest, but while other guys may have had that on their minds, that was not his intention.

  The timer buzzed, and Jenny jumped to her feet and waved her hands to get everyone’s attention. Her daughter, Kenzie, stood by her side.

  “Okay, men, if I call your name, you won the highest bid. Go and sit on one side of the table, and the baker will join you.”

  Then, table by table, Jenny went down the line, picking up the papers and looking at them. “Amos, William, Jebediah, Jonathan . . .”

  When Jenny got to the table with the pie that Ammon had bid on, Jenny’s eyes widened. “Oh, Ammon . . . You’re always so helpful around the community. Just know that from what I hear, this pie is worth every penny.”

  “I’m sure it is.” He approached the table and sat. It was only after all the men were seated that the women from the kitchen stepped forward.

  For a packed restaurant, there was silence as one by one the young women moved to the tables and sat. His heart pounded as he sat motionless. His hands were spread open on the table and both excitement and worry pushed around for space in his heart. What if the young woman took his high bid the wrong way?

  He watched as one Amish woman looked as if she was nearing his table and then walked past. Another woman followed in her footsteps, then quickly sat in the chair across from him. Ammon recognized her as one of the bakers who was often here in the early morning. Her head was bowed low.

  She looked as shy and skittish as a young colt back on his farm. Ammon drummed his fingers on the table, afraid that if he said the wrong thing she’d dart away. “Hello. This pie looks wonderful,” he managed to say.

  She lifted a face that was brilliant scarlet and the first thing he noticed was her blue eyes. There was nothing especially beautiful about her. Her nose and mouth were a bit large, but he imagined she looked pretty when she smiled. Conversations started up around them. Most people from this area knew each other. And Ammon guessed they were the only ones who were complete strangers.

  As he watched her face, her eyes darted to the bid sheet. They widened slightly and then narrowed again. She turned her attention to the knife, two plates, and two forks sitting beside it.

  “I hope you like the pie,” she said.

  He nodded and grinned. “I haven’t met a pie I didn’t like. Would you like me to cut two slices?”

  “Oh, I can do it,” she said in a rush.

  “I’m thinking I should let you . . .” Ammon paused. “But can you cut me an especially large piece?”

  She looked at him again, and the smallest smile lifted the corners of her lips. She studied him for one long moment, then whispered, “I appreciate this . . . I mean, being new here, I thank you kindly.”

  “I’m new here too. I know most of the other bachelors have been here since spring, but I’ve only been here three months yet.”

  She cut him a large piece, placing it on a plate, and then slid it over to him.

  Before taking a bite, he picked up the small note card that said Vanilla Crumb Pie and turned it over in his hand. “I’m not sure I’ve had this kind before.”

  “It’s my favorite.” Her shoulders relaxed as she talked. “I always ask for it for my birthday.”

  “I’m sure it’s wonderful then.”

  Without hesitating Ammon picked up a fork and took a bite. The subtle sweetness melted in his mouth. The crunchiness of the crumb topping was a nice surprise. His eyes widened and he glanced up at Esther. On her face was a smile she couldn’t hide.

  “This is wonderful. I’ve never tasted anything like it!” He took another bite, and his eyes closed slowly as he concentrated on the taste.

  At the table next to him, his friend Amos was enjoying a piece of buttermilk pie. Amos was chatting with one of the redheaded sisters who’d baked it. He never could remember which was which. Ammon leaned over and placed a hand on Amos’s arm. Amos jumped slightly but seemed almost relieved for the interruption.

  “I know you have a pie of your own, but you have to taste this,” Ammon said.

  “I won’t say no to a bite of great pie,” Amos said. Without a moment’s hesitation he took his fork and scooped a big chunk out of Esther’s pie. He put the bite into his mouth, and his eyes widened. “That has to be some of the best pie I’ve ever tasted!” Then, as if remembering who sat across from him, Amos turned his attention back to the Peachy sister and her pie.

  “And you, my dear, should also win a ribbon for the best pie ever,” Amos said, squirming slightly. “My stomach is going to be happy today!” He took another bite of his own pie and smiled broadly at his date. Some of the others in the room must have seen Ammon’s and Amos’s reactions, because a few more bachelors approached, asking if they could have a taste. It went fast—and soon it was gone.

  It wasn’t until Ammon looked at the empty pie plate that he had a sinking feeling. He hadn’t even saved a bite for his mem. And the baker never did get a piece for herself.

  He also hadn’t talked much with the young woman. Instead he’d been focused on sharing the pie. Other couples around him seemed deep in conversation, but the woman across from him still looked as if she was sitting on tacks.

  Ammon opened his mouth, his mind racing for the right words. He looked into the woman’s eyes, and he expected to see her pleasure over the fact that her pie was so popular. Instead he saw a look of defeat. It was as if she’d given it her all and still felt as if she’d fallen short. How could she feel that way after her pie was obviously the most popular?

  He forced a smile. “I’m so sorry. I just realized that you didn’t even get a piece.”

  “Oh, it’s all right.” Her words came out with a soft breath. “It’s nothing really to worry about. That pie is my mem’s specialty.” She wrapped the string from her kapp around her finger. “I’ve had it more times than I can count. And I made two pies this morning—one for here and one for my cousin.” She offered a slight smile. “Of course, it’s Hannah’s favorite pie, too, so I’m not sure if there will be any left when I get back.”

  Her laughter sounded like the soft tweeting of a dozen winter finches and it made Ammon grin.

  The woman went on to tell him about coming to Montana, about being a maude, and a little about her family back in Ohio. The woman was talkative enough, but something was missing. She talked to him as if that’s what she was supposed to do, as if she was going through the motions instead of trying to connect.

  “You make too much of things and always try to read between the lines,” his sister Polly had often chided him, but in this case he had a feeling he was right. Maybe God had given him the gift of being perceptive. Still, he had to wonder, why was Esther so nervous? What was she afraid of?

  “So
, tell me about your family,” she said after several minutes. She turned the fork over in her hand, and he wondered if she was hungry. He offered to buy her lunch, but she insisted she couldn’t eat a thing. From the slight trembling of her voice, he was sure that was true.

  Ammon told her about the farm and their trip to Mexico. For some reason he didn’t tell her about Mem’s current condition or the stroke. And as they sat face-to-face, Ammon realized he was doing the very thing he’d just privately accused her of—denying her access to the life issues that mattered most to him.

  Around them some of the couples were starting to leave, and before he could figure out what else to say, the woman stood. “I suppose I should get back. Baby Mark had a restless night last night. I need to be around to walk the boards if he’s still fussy for his nap.”

  “Ja.” Ammon stood too. “I understand.”

  She turned to leave and Ammon reached out, gently brushing his fingertips on her arm. “I’m so sorry. I feel foolish I didn’t ask . . . Can you tell me your name?”

  The woman turned back and nodded. “Esther. Esther Glick.”

  “That’s a lovely name, Esther. I’ll make sure and use it next time we do this.”

  “Next time?” She cocked her head and studied him. Her face softened, appeared less guarded. And something else was there. Was it a glimmer of hope?

  Seeing that caused a strange feeling to come over him. His simple words had meant so much to her, and an overwhelming desire to protect her surged through Ammon.

  And then, without thinking too much about it, he said, “Ja, Esther, I’d love to have pie with you again . . . and maybe lunch. Would you be interested? I promise I’ll pay more attention to you next time, instead of sharing what I have with everyone within arm’s reach.”

  She waited so long to answer that he was sure she would say no. And then she nodded once. “Ja, I think I’d like that.”

  And as she walked away, a surprising excitement soared in Ammon’s heart.

  Hannah and Matthew were sitting at the table eating sandwiches when Esther entered. Both sets of eyes were on her as she took off her coat and hung it. Baby Mark was asleep in his kitchen cradle. Hannah smiled, hearing his gentle snore.

  “Did you have a good time, Estie?” her cousin asked. “Who won the bid? What is his name? Do we know him?”

  Esther turned and lifted an eyebrow. “So why didn’t you tell me the auction included a date?” She placed a hand on her hip.

  Hannah tried to hide a smile. “Vell, your mem said not to . . .”

  “My mem!” Esther pointed a finger into the air. “I knew she had something to do with it.”

  “Ja!” Matthew jutted out his chin, stepping in for his wife. “She left a phone message with the neighbor and asked me to relay a message. She told me to tell Hannah she was sending the recipe. Your mem thought you needed a friend around here.”

  “A friend?” Esther crossed her arms over her chest. “It seems a bachelor auction is a little bit different yet than trying to make a friend.”

  “Oh, Estie.” Hannah waved a hand in the air. “It was a kind gesture, that’s all. Your mem cares about you. She thinks you spend too much time alone. Besides, now you have the recipe for the pie. That’s worth something, ja?”

  “I’m not alone. I care for baby Mark. I’m with you . . .” Esther let her voice trail off. By “friend,” Mem meant people outside their family.

  Hannah shook her head. This wasn’t going to be a fight Esther would win, but she couldn’t let it drop that easily. She’d write to Mem. She’d tell her that while her gesture had been kind, Esther could make friends on her own . . . and she knew how to do it without pie.

  Esther sat in a wooden chair and removed her boots. Her mind replayed the evening, and when she looked up her cousin’s eyes were on her.

  “Vell?” Hannah asked.

  “Ammon. Ammon Schwartz.”

  Esther looked away, hoping the heat rising to her cheeks didn’t betray her. But not fast enough. Hannah’s smile widened as she noted Esther’s face turning two shades of red.

  It wasn’t so bad, though, she had to admit. I liked getting to know him.

  But she’d never admit that, of course. It was easier to be mad than to be hopeful.

  And yes, Hannah was right, the bonus was she also now had the recipe for the pie.

  CHAPTER SIX

  In the week after sitting across the table from Esther Glick, Ammon knew that he was in trouble. Something about Esther made Ammon want to spend more time with her—to give her attention and listen to her. But the more he thought about that, reality sank in. He couldn’t allow his heart to get wrapped up in someone. He needed to get back to Missouri. He had a farm to tend.

  Yet how could he leave? Mem wasn’t doing any better, and Polly couldn’t manage everything alone. More than once Ammon had considered asking Polly if he could go back home, but guilt plagued him and he never got up the nerve. He couldn’t leave his sister with so much responsibility. Leaving West Kootenai would be leaving Esther too. He wanted to see her, but he didn’t. He longed for someone to share his heart with, but at the same time he was scared.

  Unwilling to let his emotions override common sense, Ammon filled his time with activities. He kept himself away from places he might see Esther.

  More than that, the work was a privilege. Unlike working on the farm, Ammon could venture out each morning without a clue of how he’d spend his day and then meet up with someone to help out.

  He’d cut wood for the widow Millie Arnold. He’d patched a porch floor good enough to last through winter for that single mom, Jenny. He took care of David Carash’s horses when Dave and his family journeyed to Chicago to visit relatives for an early Christmas. Each day he’d get so busy with work that he was able to push thoughts of Esther into the back of his mind, until one morning when he came upon her at the Kraft and Grocery.

  They’d chatted about simple things, but he had made her laugh, and seeing that had brightened his whole day. And then he found himself forgetting all his own warnings. After delivering a load of firewood to Edgar’s house, he passed right by the home where Esther was staying.

  Before he had a chance to talk himself out of it, Ammon tied up his horses on the hitching post and then hurried up the steps. Esther answered with a baby swaddled in her arms. His heart leapt at the sight of it.

  “I’m sorry to bother you. I’m sure you are busy.”

  “I was just getting ready to give the baby a bath. The water is warm, but if you want to come in—”

  “No, I won’t keep you.” He took a step back. “I was just wondering if you’d like to go on a sleigh ride with me. Abe Sommer said I could use his sleigh anytime.”

  “Ja!” The word spouted from her lips and then she looked away, as if embarrassed by her eager response. “I would like that very much.”

  Esther wished she knew what to do with her hands as she sat in the high-backed log chair in Hannah’s kitchen. The chair gave her a view of the road leading up to Matthew and Hannah’s house. A view of Ammon coming to pick her up for a sleigh ride.

  She folded her arms and then unfolded them. She clasped her hands and then wiped her sweaty palms on her skirt. She knew Mem would have disapproved of her fidgeting, but how could a gal not be unnerved by a man like Ammon? He was so kind and helpful. But as much as the helpfulness drew her, it also bothered her.

  He’d only been here months, not years, but with the friendships he’d built and the projects he was involved in, it seemed he’d lived here his whole life. Did that mean he wanted to stay? To build a life here? As nice as this place was, she never imagined herself living in such a small Amish community. She’d also said her piece to God more than once in the hours leading up to this date—this real date.

  Oh, sure. Now there is someone who wants to spend time with me but it looks like he wants to plant roots here.

  A sleigh ride had seemed ridiculously romantic. Violet never had been on a sleigh rid
e, and Esther could picture Mem’s curious smile when she heard the news. Mem just might attribute this date to the pie. But there was no pie in Esther’s hands now, and that’s what had kept her from getting much sleep last night.

  In the dark, quiet stillness of her bedroom, Esther had enjoyed thinking about Ammon. Only the hoot of an occasional owl had interrupted her pondering, but every time she considered getting to know him beyond sharing a piece of pie, or going on a sleigh ride, her chest would clench so tight she’d think she was having a heart attack. To get to know someone well would mean she’d have to open up.

  Esther didn’t allow those thoughts to go too far before she pushed them out of her mind. Who was she to think that Ammon would really be interested in her?

  Just last Sunday at church in the Sommers’ home, the Amish preacher had spoken about allowing one’s heart to become still with the quiet winter season. Just like the earth needed time to rest under a layer of snow, he said that each of their hearts needed those seasons too.

  “A time of new life, of growth, and of harvest come in their due season,” he’d said. Yet even though the world outside was shrouded in cold, in snow, a stirring of new life—of hope—dared to poke out of her heart at Ammon’s friendship. She’d been quiet and still for most of her life. And now, Esther had a sense within that it was time to grow. To bloom.

  The sound of a sleigh approaching caused her to jump, and Esther prayed that she would be able to have a conversation and not make a fool of herself.

  The sound of horse hooves crunching on the snow paused. Ammon must be parking the sleigh. Esther refused to look out the window as she listened to the horses’ whinnies and a man’s voice saying he’d be right back. There was a knock on the door, and Esther hurried to it. She opened it and waved Ammon inside. She swallowed down her emotion. Even worse than not feeling that attraction was to allow hope in, only to have it stripped away.