A Simple Christmas

by Charlotte Hubbard

  Marcus held his breath. In the blink of an eye he’d gone from being forbidden fruit to becoming Rosalyn’s boyfriend. She was already seeing them as a couple—in a long-term relationship—as though she’d been thinking about him in a romantic way all along. This hadn’t been part of his plan at all.

  When Rosalyn saw his expression, her smile faded immediately. “Oh dear,” she whispered. “I’m making too big a deal out of a simple invitation to—”

  “It’s all right,” Marcus reassured her. “Truth be told, I bought that sleigh in the Detweilers’ shop mostly because you seemed so . . . well, you were yearning for something you’d lost—something you thought you’d never have again. And so was I.”

  Oh, now you’ve done it—smeared it on so thick you’ll never get out of this mess without seriously hurting her feelings. What was it about being with Rosalyn that made him say things he couldn’t possibly live up to?

  Marcus didn’t have a clue. But Rosalyn was gazing at him as though he’d hung the moon and stars.

  “How did you know—well, you’ve read me like a book,” she said in awestruck disbelief. “I never figured you for a fellow who could express such deep thoughts so perfectly, so poetically—and I thought you were too young. I was wrong about you, Marcus.”

  You’re still wrong about me, sweetheart. And I was wrong to lead you into this predicament with pretty words, knowing you’ll catch trouble from your dat. But here we are.

  “I’m twenty-one—I’ll turn twenty-two the day after Christmas,” he protested with a laugh. Then he sobered. “I hope I won’t get you into trouble, Roz. Maybe with you I need to confess first in hopes that I won’t commit the sin—which would be a big switch for me.”

  Marcus sensed Cornelius would give his daughter no end of grief if he found out she planned to go riding around in a sleigh with him—or learned of their ride after the fact. If things went wrong because of their date, it wouldn’t be such a big deal for him to leave town, but for Rosalyn there would be no such escape. She would always be her father’s daughter.

  If you leave Willow Ridge, you should take Roz with you, the voice in his head pointed out. She’d go in a heartbeat. It’s written all over her pretty face.

  Rosalyn’s tremulous smile made her look years younger, heartbreakingly happy. “Dat’s already lectured me about you, but I’m going sleigh riding anyway,” she said in a voice he could barely hear. “For once in my life I’m going to defy my father—maybe do something that needs confessing—and I don’t regret it, Marcus. I’m ready to face the consequences.”

  It had taken a lot of courage for Rosalyn to say such a thing, and he could only hope she would find the risk of dating him worth those consequences she’d mentioned. Maybe he should back out now, before he broke an innocent heart and did irreparable damage to a late bloomer’s confidence . . .

  But Marcus smiled and lightly touched her cheek. “See you Saturday afternoon, Roz. Let’s go have some fun.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Have a wonderful-gut time with Marcus tonight,” Loretta whispered as Rosalyn donned her bonnet, coat, and boots on Saturday morning. “I’ll let on to Dat as though I don’t know a thing. I’ll have to keep a big smile from my face while I’m imagining the adventure you’re having.”

  “You’re the best sister ever, Loretta,” Rosalyn replied as she picked up the canvas tote with her shoes in it. “I keep telling myself this is only a one-time thing—not to be disappointed if Marcus brings me home early, or—”

  “Puh! He’s showing signs of better judgment just because he’s asked you out,” Loretta countered playfully. “Live for the moment, sister. Have a gut time tonight, and the days ahead will take care of themselves. And denki for delivering my rugs to the store.”

  Live for the moment. As Rosalyn stepped out the back door, her sister’s words shone like a beacon on a dreary day. The sky was gray and heavy with clouds, but she refused to let the weather dampen her dancing spirits as she slogged along the slushy shoulder of the road to Nora’s shop. Loretta’s rugs were heavy, rolled into a bundle beneath her arm, but her spirits were so light she didn’t mind. As snowflakes kissed her cheeks, Rosalyn held her face up to welcome them.

  If it’s too snowy tonight, Marcus will find a cozy place for us to escape the cold, she thought happily. She tingled all over with the mischief she was making, going on a date with the most daring, dangerous young man she’d ever met. She hadn’t had to fabricate a story for Dat, because he’d retreated to his workshop after every meal for the past few days. He’d been so preoccupied with his clock repairs, he hadn’t even protested the greenery and candles she and Loretta had arranged on the mantel and the windowsills.

  After Rosalyn stepped inside the Simple Gifts shop, she removed her wraps and slipped into her shoes. “Gut morning, Nora!” she called out as she approached the office. “Do you figure we’ll have a busy day, what with this snow?”

  “With only three Saturdays left until Christmas, jah, I’m expecting a lot of shoppers,” Nora replied. She was arranging a tray of Lena Witmer’s decorated sugar cookies to go with the spiced cider that already filled the store with its delectable scent. “I’m glad you and Loretta are helping me four days a week, Rosalyn, or I’d never get all the new merchandise tagged and displayed—not that merchandise is on your mind today!” she teased. “Are you ready for your big date?”

  Rosalyn nodded eagerly. It was a blessing to share her excitement with a friend who gave her such sincere encouragement. “I hope I won’t be making silly mistakes because I’m all ferhoodled about going out with Marcus,” she said. “I almost put shoes from two different pairs in my tote this morning, so I’m going to apologize right now for anything goofy I do—”

  “As though you’re the only one who ever gets goofy,” Nora interrupted with a laugh. She reached for the rolled bundle beneath Rosalyn’s arm. “I’m amazed at how many rugs and wreaths you and Loretta have made these past few weeks. You’re a fine employee, Rosalyn, and I’m delighted that you’re going out to have some fun with Marcus this evening.”

  When the bell above the door jingled, their business day began. The constant flow of shoppers made the hours fly by. Somehow Rosalyn helped customers, wrote out consignment tags, and wrapped the purchases Nora rang up without losing her focus—even though thoughts of Marcus simmered in her mind while she worked. Late in the afternoon when she was in the loft straightening the displays, something outside drew her to the window.

  Rosalyn held her breath. At the McKenzie place, Marcus was in his sleigh, putting a beautiful black Percheron through its paces—urging the horse forward, stopping it with voice commands, and instructing it to back up. What a picture it made, with the red velvet sleigh seat and the ebony horse moving through the gently falling snow. Soon she’d be part of the wintry scene, caught up in the magic of a December dusk . . .

  It was the driver who held her attention, however. Marcus appeared so competent and in control of the massive horse, it made her pulse thrum to watch him. When he turned the sleigh toward the road, her heart began to hammer. After a day of waiting, it was almost four thirty.

  This is really happening, she thought as she quickly finished tidying the shelves. I’m going out on a date with a fellow who could be seeing any girl he chose, yet he picked me!

  Rosalyn went downstairs and busied herself at the back of the store as the last of the customers were heading to the checkout counter. When the bell jingled, she held her breath, determined not to seem overeager for fear Marcus would think she was silly. The tread of his sturdy boots on the wooden floor made her so light-headed, she took several deep breaths so she wouldn’t pass out from anticipation.

  And then Marcus was standing beside her, carrying the chill of the evening on his leather jacket even as his body’s warmth and masculine scent overwhelmed her senses. When she looked up at him, his pale green eyes shimmered in his handsome face.

  “Ready, Roz?” he whispered. “Your sleigh awa
its you.”

  Rosalyn sensed her life was about to take a wild detour that would forever alter her mind-set—and her maidel assumptions about the world. She nodded, unable to breathe, much less speak.

  “You two need to skedaddle before you set my shop on fire,” Nora teased. “It’s the perfect evening for a sleigh ride, so enjoy every moment of it. I’ve got a major case of sleigh envy, Marcus.”

  His face lit up. “You and Luke can borrow it whenever you want—if Roz and I ever stop riding around in it, that is.”

  Marcus helped her with her coat and waited patiently as Rosalyn put on her bonnet and boots. She felt like a princess when Marcus helped her into the sleigh. As he tucked a blanket around them, she couldn’t stop gazing at the beautifully carved woodwork, the fine velvet upholstery, and the magnificent Percheron that shifted her weight in expectation, making the harness bells whisper with a hint of joy.

  “Let’s go, Sophie!” Marcus called out.

  When the sleigh lurched forward, Rosalyn closed her eyes with the excitement of it all. She was sitting so close to Marcus, her arm brushed his beneath the blanket. The heavy clip-clop, clip-clop of the mare’s huge hooves made the harness bells jingle with each step. Rosalyn held her breath so she wouldn’t laugh out loud, filled with the same exhilaration that came from swooping and swirling on carnival rides at the county fair.

  “From the look on your face, you’re either overjoyed or scared spitless,” Marcus said once they were gliding alongside the county highway.

  Rosalyn opened her eyes to find him gazing at her. Gazing at her. “This is so—so awesome!” she gushed. “You probably think I’m a silly goose, acting so ga-ga over a sleigh ride with you, but—”

  “I think you’re awesome,” he interrupted softly. “The way I see it, if you can’t get excited about this sleigh and this horse and this perfect snowy evening, you might as well be dead. Hang on!”

  Marcus steered the Percheron up the hill toward the entry to the McKenzie place. “Thought I’d give you a quick tour, and then we’ll ride across open land, away from traffic. There’s the Thoroughbred barn, where my apartment is,” he put in, pointing as they rode past it. “The second barn is for the Percherons I’m training.”

  Rosalyn nodded, taking in the grandeur of the new red barns and the rolling, snow-covered pasture beyond them. “I’m surprised Mr. McKenzie hasn’t built a new house that’s as stunning as his horses’ homes,” she remarked as she glanced at the double-wide trailer they were passing. “Nora says he and Rebecca are engaged, jah?”

  “Yup,” Marcus replied as he deftly steered the mare toward open pasture. “Considering how much time she spends here—or he spends at her house—it surprises me that they return to their own places at night rather than sleeping over.”

  “As well they should,” Rosalyn said emphatically. “Her mamm has accepted the fact that she’ll never join the Amish church, but to Miriam, it would be a big slap in the face if everyone in town knew Rebecca was doing, well—you know—before she was married.”

  When Marcus focused silently on his driving, Rosalyn realized that a fellow who’d lived with a couple of different women would take sexual relations for granted. She’d caught herself discussing an inappropriately intimate topic with him, too. Her cheeks tingled with embarrassment as she changed the subject. “What’s for supper tonight?”

  Marcus’s smile returned. “Do you like the pizza place in Morning Star? Or if you’d rather go someplace a little more upscale—”

  “Oh, pizza, please!” she said without missing a beat. “We rarely have that at home because Dat’s a meat-and-potatoes man. Doesn’t consider pizza a real meal.” A sigh escaped her. “Anyplace you take me will be a treat, Marcus. It’s not as though I’ve gone to any restaurants other than the Grill N Skillet since we moved to Willow Ridge. And we’ve only gone there for Edith and Loretta’s wedding dinners.”

  Was that pity in Marcus’s eyes? Rosalyn looked out over the snowy fields, wondering if everything she said to him would incriminate her as a hopeless maidel . . . an invisible homebody who’d only gone on two dates in her entire life.

  “At least you’ve eaten at the best place around,” Marcus assured her. “I’ve heard that Mother Yutzy’s and Mrs. Niss-ley’s Kitchen in Cedar Creek are both good, but they only serve breakfast and lunch, so I haven’t been to either of them.”

  Rosalyn nodded, allowing the rhythmic jingle of the bells and the mare’s footfalls, muted by the snowy earth, to lull her into a gentle sense of euphoria. Marcus had slowed Sophie’s pace to extend their ride, she sensed, because just over the upcoming rise she saw the lights of Morning Star. When the sleigh made a wide curve so the lights of town were behind them, however, the lush evening enveloped her. She sighed contentedly as she gazed up at the moon and stars shining in the deep blue canopy of night.

  “So besides making wreaths—and riding in a sleigh with me—what do you really, really love to do, Roz?” Marcus asked softly.

  Rosalyn sensed he was teasing a bit, but hadn’t he nailed it? When she realized that his handsome, moonlit face was only inches from hers, she forgot how to speak. “You’ve pretty well summed it up,” she admitted after a few moments. “Working in Nora’s store has become my favorite way to spend time, but . . . well, this sleigh ride we’re sharing ranks right up there as a major highlight of my quiet life, Marcus. You probably think I’m really dull and boring and—”

  “I think you’re the sweetest, most authentic person I’ve ever met, Roz,” he whispered.

  She lost all track of time and space and reality when Marcus stopped the sleigh and took her in his arms. Then he kissed her.

  * * *

  As Marcus lifted his lips from Rosalyn’s, her soft gasp went straight to his heart, like an arrow of honesty. With her moonlit face uplifted and her eyes still closed, she appeared angelic, and it struck him that she’d entrusted him with her entire being—with her innocence and her reputation. Going out with him would bring her nothing but trouble, when her father found out.

  Yet she’d come willingly, joyfully. Rosalyn wore her heart on her sleeve—and with a careless slip of his tongue or a stupid move he could destroy the beauty of this enchanted snowy evening, not to mention cause her personal pain that would haunt her long after he left her behind.

  Marcus suddenly realized that his motives were all wrong. Using Rosalyn as a way to satisfy his curiosity about Cornelius Riehl was one of the most selfish things he’d ever done—and he’d pulled more than his share of self-centered tricks with the other women he’d known.

  Truth be told, none of those girls could hold a candle to Roz. The bills you ran up on their credit cards are nothing compared to the damage you’ll do if you play fast and loose with this woman’s trust, his thoughts warned sharply. She has more integrity in her long eyelashes than you’ve shown in your entire life, Hooley.

  Marcus swallowed hard. It scared the daylights out of him that Rosalyn might be making an honest man of him—might make him feel accountable for his actions, after numerous family members had tried the same thing and failed.

  “Did I do it wrong?” she asked in a tiny voice. “I—I’ve never—”

  “It was perfect,” he whispered. “You’re making me rethink what our kiss might mean, Roz.”

  Her dark eyes glimmered with relief, and maybe mischief. “Maybe you should kiss me again,” she hinted. “I got so twinkly and light, I almost floated away. I might’ve missed something.”

  Marcus smiled at her endearing way with words. How many hundreds of times had he kissed the various girls he’d been with before? Yet not a one of them had ever confessed to feeling twinkly or light. He cupped Rosalyn’s sweet face in his hand, and kissed her as though she were the most precious, beautiful soul with whom he’d ever connected.

  Because she was.

  Marcus parked the sleigh at the far end of the restaurant’s lot, where there was a hitching post for Plain customers. Rosalyn helped him fasten a la
rge horse blanket over the massive mare’s back before they went inside. The place was noisy with kids and families enjoying an inexpensive Saturday night outing, but Marcus barely noticed. As Rosalyn sat across the well-worn booth from him, her clear, low voice penetrated the fracas while they talked about a surprising number of interests they had in common—besides pizza and sleigh rides and making wreaths.

  “I hope you’ll show me how to make a corn husk angel someday,” she said wistfully.

  As she took a long sip of her cola—another treat she rarely indulged in, and never at home, she’d admitted— Marcus found her charming. She’d worked at Nora’s store for most of the day, yet in a pleated white kapp that framed her face and a home-sewn cape dress of deep green, she appeared as fresh as the evergreens in their snow-white finery. She wore no makeup, yet her dark brows and lashes, soulful brown eyes, and deep pink lips set off a pleasantly proportioned face that was much more attractive than he’d thought when he’d first met her.

  “As nimble as your fingers are, it won’t take you long to make an angel,” he remarked. “I’ve been impressed with how many wreaths you’ve put together these past few weeks, yet no two have been alike.”

  Rosalyn shrugged modestly. “It would be boring to make them all the same,” she pointed out. “Truth be told, a lot of them have been decorated with leftover scraps of this and that—ribbon and silk Christmas flowers and whatnot. I can’t duplicate them because I use up my scraps as I go.”

  Her remark reminded Marcus of his mother, and that sent a pang of regret and wistfulness through him. His mamm didn’t waste anything, whether she was cooking or sewing or crafting, because she had no spare money. Such a frugal lifestyle was a far cry from the mind-sets of his former girlfriends—

  So is Roz your girlfriend?

  The question startled him, yet his heart already held the answer. Marcus reminded himself to go slowly, because a lot was at stake for Rosalyn—