She took another bite of her bread and cheese. It was odd eating it for breakfast, but that was what he’d told her to lay out when they’d talked about their Christmas meal the day before.
“Do you know why we eat simply on Christmas morning, Grace?”
She shook her head.
“I suppose it’s to remind us that Mary and Joseph didn’t have much in that stable when Mary was giving birth to the baby Jesus.”
Grace took another bite of the bread. This time it tasted differently to her.
“Probably Mary carried some supplies with her, or they could have bought some things along the way, but it’s doubtful they could have stopped and cooked something in a barn, especially with her giving birth.” He turned the mug of kaffi in his hands. “I probably shouldn’t be drinking this. I don’t know if Joseph was in the habit of drinking kaffi or not. He probably drank hot tea. Either way, I imagine he could have used a good strong cup that morning.”
They talked another few minutes while she finished her food. Things started making more sense to her, especially as she remembered the skits and poems on Friday night. It had been funny when the donkey had fallen over, but she’d ridden a real donkey before and it wasn’t all that comfortable. Wasn’t nearly as comfortable as riding in their buggy behind Chance.
“How about I clean up these dishes and then we’ll read the Christmas story from Luke? You want to get your mammi Sarah’s Bible?”
Grace thought that would make the morning perfect. She helped him carry the dishes to the sink and then went to retrieve her Bible from its special place on her dresser.
The morning went like that, not in a speedy blur, but flowing slowly. She almost didn’t want it to end.
When it was time for them to leave for Miriam’s, she stopped him at the door, reached up, combed her fingers through his beard, and whispered, “Danki.”
“For what, my Grace?”
“For a wunderbaar Christmas morning.”
They both knew it wasn’t perfect, but it was their best one yet since they’d been alone. She walked out into the afternoon sunshine with high hopes that things could only get better.
Chapter 31
When Gabe pulled up to Abigail and Joshua’s house, he thought perhaps he had his afternoons mixed up. Maybe there was a Sunday church meeting going on. Buggies were lined up along the fence bordering the pasture, though all the horses had been taken into the barn. He counted more than a dozen.
How many children did Joshua and Abigail have?
Of course, a few friends would be invited as well, like himself. He glanced over at Grace to see if she was intimidated by the size of the crowd. A grin was splayed across her face. She tugged on his coat and pointed toward the small hill situated beside the barn. A large group of children were lined up with their sleds and saucers. A few off to the side were engaged in a snowball fight while they waited their turn.
“Want to come inside first?”
“Uh-uh.”
“Okay. Do you need me to help you with your sled?”
“Yes, please.”
He was unloading her sled from the back of the buggy, which was one they had bought for her when she was smaller and probably wouldn’t last another year, when Hannah appeared.
“Hey, Grace. Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas, Hannah!”
“Headed to the hill?”
“Uh-huh.”
“So am I. Want to walk with me?”
“Can I, dat?”
“Sure. Think you girls can drag this sled over there?”
“No problem,” Hannah said. “I have six bruders and schweschders.”
“Pulled a lot of sleds have you?”
“Ya. My fair share.”
He watched as they shuffled off through the snow. It wasn’t very thick, not more than a foot. They’d had only a few light snowfalls over the last few days, but the children would make the best of it.
Squeals and laughter followed him as he carried the box of vegetables and the gift he had for Abigail and Joshua inside. He stopped and checked his pocket to make sure he had the ribbon, and then he nearly bobbled it and dropped it in the snow.
“Is that red ribbon for someone special?” Noah asked, slapping him on the back.
He thought of Miriam but bit back the words. “Ya. It is.” He stuffed it into his pants pocket. “Merry Christmas, Noah.”
“Merry Christmas to you. Glad you could make it.”
Gabe glanced back at the row of buggies. “Are you sure there’s room for two more?”
“There’s always room for two more. Come on inside. I’ll have one of the boys see to your gelding. It helps that the weather is good enough to let the older children play on the hill. Otherwise we would have to shoo them into the barn.”
As they walked into the main room, Gabe understood what he meant. Every chair and couch was occupied by women, men, grandmothers, grandfathers, aunts, and uncles—and many of them were holding babies. Miriam was rocking one of them. She glanced up, her eyes locked with his a moment, and then she looked away.
“Welcome to the family,” Noah laughed.
“I didn’t realize there were so many Kings,” Gabe joked.
“Half of us go to our church district,” Abigail explained as she accepted the box of goodies. “And the other half belongs to the district on the other side of Cashton.”
“A divided family,” Joshua muttered as he swiped a cookie off the counter.
“Now, Pop, you’re not going to start that again, are you? We’re a mere buggy ride away—and Pebble Creek runs through both districts, keeping us united.” Extending his hand to Gabe, the larger version of Joshua added, “David King. Middle son.”
“Nice to meet you, middle son.”
“You must be the brave man who bought the Kline place.”
“I am.”
“I want to hear how that’s going. Kline’s land was good, but he never took proper care of it.” Unlike his conversation with Clemens Schmucker the week before, Gabe could tell there was no animosity in David’s comment.
“You’re right about that. Maybe you could give me some ideas on what to do with the south pasture.”
“That I could.”
The hour passed quickly until the food was served, and it wasn’t as much a meal as it was a feast. Gabe would have been embarrassed about the vegetables he brought, but Miriam complimented him on them and Abigail asked, “Did your mamm put these up, Gabe?”
“She did.”
“I wonder if you’d mind writing her and asking what she seasoned them with.”
“I’d be happy to.”
They couldn’t have known how much their comments put him at ease, because they were said in an offhand way as they passed around roasted chicken, baked ham, mashed potatoes, fresh baked bread, and more vegetables than he’d seen in a month. He was convinced their comments were sincere when the bowls with his mother’s vegetables reached him. They were close to empty. He took a small spoonful and passed them on. He had more put up in his pantry, but she would be tickled when he wrote her about it.
The children returned to their play outside for another hour while the meal’s cleanup took place. Though the women reigned in the kitchen, the men moved the benches that had been set up for the meal and spread them around the sitting area so that there would be more space for the gift-giving.
“We draw names at Thanksgiving, so each person has had a month to prepare their gift,” Joshua explained.
“Ya, it was the same way in my family.”
“I believe Abigail has something for your girl.”
“That wasn’t necessary. I explained to her we’re visitors.”
Joshua shook his head as they moved the last bench. “You don’t know my wife very well yet. She keeps a box of small presents for situations like this. She’d never let a child go without a gift.”
“Actually I haven’t given her my gift. I brought one that I bought from the store, and t
hen I’d planned to pick up the other from Miriam before we leave.” Gabe pulled the red ribbon from the pocket of his pants. “I haven’t had a chance to talk to her yet.”
“She snuck away to take Pepper the ham bone. You’ll find her in the barn.”
Miriam knelt beside Pepper as he enjoyed his special dinner. “Merry Christmas,” she whispered, rubbing him between the ears. He gnawed on the bone, pausing occasionally to glance up at her. She realized how foolish it would sound if anyone heard her whispering Christmas wishes to a dog, but fortunately she was alone for the moment.
“Do you always give your dog Christmas presents?”
Though her pulse jumped, she forced herself to remain still. “It’s become something of a holiday tradition between us. What brings you out to the barn, Gabe?”
He pulled out the red ribbon. “I was hoping we could see if this would fit a certain gray kitten.”
Miriam took the ribbon and fingered it. Did he have it lying around the house, or had he made a special trip to town to purchase it? “You’ve decided to let her have it?”
“Ya. Try looking into those brown eyes and denying her something. I do, mind you. I wouldn’t want her spoiled completely rotten, but it’s harder than you would think.”
He sat down beside her and studied Pepper. “I could probably use a good dog around my place. Will he be fathering more litters?”
“Yes, in a few months. We receive half the pups. If you’d like, I could save you one.”
“That would be gut. I’ll pay you for it, of course.”
“All right, if you insist.”
The silence stretched between them, though it wasn’t an uncomfortable one. She never felt awkward around him anymore, only that she needed to be careful. So many emotions fought inside herself, and she wasn’t sure which were proper to show and which she should keep tamped down. Even as they sat there, watching Pepper, she found herself wondering how Gabe and Grace had spent Christmas morning. Had it been lonely?
“How was Grace’s Christmas at home?”
“Gut. We had a nice quiet time together. Probably spent it much as you did.” Gabe looked at her sideways without turning his head. “Except probably you didn’t have to share a special Christmas blessing with a mouse in a box.”
Miriam smiled broadly as some of the tension left her shoulders. “No. We did not have any mice around this morning.”
“I suppose that wasn’t what you were asking me, though.” Gabe’s voice turned serious, and he stretched his legs out in front of him, reached forward, and scratched Pepper between the ears. “It’s hard to know how much Grace remembers about her mamm or if she misses her more on holidays. This morning she only said that heaven must have a real celebration on Christ’s birth and then she asked if I thought they exchanged gifts after lunch as we do.”
Miriam moistened her lips as she tried to think of what to say that might lessen the hurt she heard in his voice. She settled for reaching over and squeezing his hand.
“What did you tell her?”
“That I have no doubt the celebration there is grander and the gifts are even better.”
Miriam nodded and then pulled her hand away when she saw that he was staring at her fingers.
“Your parents were almost ready to open gifts.”
“Oh.” Miriam hopped up and began dusting straw off her dress. “Let me get the kitten.”
“Is he old enough?”
“Yes. He’ll be fine. I even set aside a little crate for you to take him in.” They walked into the stall where the kittens were. The mother was gone, but two kittens were left—Stormy and a calico. “David is taking the other one.”
She picked up Stormy and held him while Gabe tried to tie the ribbon around his neck. The kitten yawned sleepily, not really bothering to wake.
Gabe’s fingers hung up in the ribbon. He tried a second time with no better luck.
“Maybe we should switch,” Miriam suggested. “You take Stormy and I’ll take the ribbon.”
They swapped with some tangling of the kitten, the ribbon, and their fingers. Miriam tried to ignore the heat that shot through her when Gabe’s fingers brushed hers even as she tried to forget her embarrassment from a few minutes earlier.
She tied the ribbon quickly and then set Stormy into a small crate that held an old tattered blanket. “I’ve been putting him in here afternoons, when I’m home, so he’d be used to it. I don’t think he’ll cry at all.”
Closing the lid, she picked it up and handed it to him.
“You’re too kind to us,” Gabe said quietly, his brown eyes so full of warmth and kindness that she wanted to reach up and run her fingers over his brow, wiping away some of his worry.
“Not at all.” She took a step back. “Maybe you could leave him in the mudroom while we’re inside.”
“Gut idea.”
They walked back to the house side by side, not touching, but close enough that they could have.
Miriam tried not to think what it would be like if they were a family, if she were going home with him after the gift-giving. She tried not to dwell on the fact that her life seemed empty with only teaching and her parents, with no real place of her own to belong, no husband or child to care for, no one’s needs to tend. A small silent part of her wanted to throw herself in his arms and beg, “Take me with you. Take me back to your place, and we can restore it together. We can be a family—the three of us.”
She wanted to tell him about the things she dreamed of before she fell into a fitful sleep each night.
But she didn’t do any of those things.
Instead, she walked silently beside him, up the back porch steps and into the house—pausing only to leave the kitten and his crate in the mudroom.
Chapter 32
Though much in Wisconsin was different from what Gabe had grown up accustomed to in Indiana, the gift-giving was the same. He smiled as the women unwrapped quilting notions, new cooking gadgets, and a new set of sheets for Abigail—it seemed everyone had pitched in on that. The men oohed and aahed over farming tools and new suspenders, and one of Miriam’s brothers received a new hat.
Grace was wearing her new gloves in the house, so apparently she liked them—that and the grin on her face was a sure giveaway.
“Do you like the psalm I stitched?” Grace asked.
“It’s very gut.” Gabe held up the embroidered cloth that had been fastened into a frame. “I didn’t realize you knew how.”
“The older girls have been teaching us, and the boys made the frames. I messed up a little on the S in Shepherd.”
“It’s beautiful, Grace.” Gabe ran his fingers over the stitching. “Psalm 23 is mammi Sarah’s favorite.”
“I only had time to finish the first eight words—”
“That’s all we need. They’ll remind us of the rest.”
“Nicely done, Grace.” Abigail peered over their shoulder at the sampler. “‘The Lord is my shepherd, I lack nothing.’”
“Abigail can read my stitching,” Grace whispered.
“Did you pick that verse yourself?” Abigail asked.
“It was that or Genesis 1:1.”
“I always was partial to the Psalms. It looks like you two are quite the artists. Gabe, I want to thank you for the walnut bowl. I don’t know how you managed to work such a beautiful finish on it.”
“It gives me something to do in the evening. I’m happy you like it.”
“Grace, I have a gift for you.”
Grace’s eyes brightened as she accepted the package. Unwrapping it, a small squeal escaped as she saw first the black kapp and then the black apron over the green dress, and finally the black shoes like her own.
“I’ve been making Plain dolls for my grandkinner for years. I hope you–”
But Abigail had no chance to finish her explanation. She found herself wrapped in Grace’s hug.
“I believe she likes it,” Gabe said.
“They usually do.” Abigail led Grace off
to the kitchen, enlisting her help in serving cookies and dessert as the children began to scatter to play with various gifts.
He heard Miriam thanking her for the picture Grace had drawn and placed in the blanket chest after the school presentation. “A picture of Stanley. It’s almost as though he’s at the school with me.”
Gabe was about to go and find a piece of dessert himself, even though he was sure he’d been stuffed full only an hour ago, when Noah moved beside him and nodded toward the men and women who were gathering in the sitting room.
“I believe you might want to join us to hear what David has to say.”
“Ya?”
“It seems he heard more about Byron Drake, his tourist attraction, and the old hotel.”
Gabe followed Noah into the sitting room, which was crowded now with Joshua and Abigail’s family—all but the children, who were in the kitchen eating dessert.
“You’re sure about this, David?” Joshua sat in the rocker near the stove, his voice calm and quiet.
“I heard about it on Friday and saw it for myself yesterday when I was in town picking up a few things at the grocer.”
“Saw what?” Noah asked. “Tell it again, now that we’re all here.”
“A poster about the size of a calendar.” David stretched his hands out the width of a wall calendar. “And twice as long. It showed the old hotel on front with Drake’s name over the top. In big letters it said Renovation Project, and it gave the time for the information meeting that was to be held by the Cashton board of trustees.”
“And the village president will be there?” Miriam worried the strings of her prayer kapp.
“Goodland? Ya. Sure, she will. All of them will. Next Wednesday at six p.m.”
“In three days?” Noah’s voice was a low growl.
“No. Most business in town grinds to a halt the week between Christmas and New Year’s Day, especially municipal business. It’s the next Wednesday—in ten days.” David added as an afterthought, “I guess they don’t expect that any of us will show up.”
“Why would we?” Ida piped up. She was married to Noah, and with seven children to look after she was a bit more stern than her husband was, but not unpleasant. “When was the last time we involved ourselves in Englisch politics?”
A Promise for Miriam Page 19