8 mashed bananas
Mix and freeze to a slush consistency.
BREAKFAST CASSEROLE
6 eggs
Ham, sausage, or fried bacon
Onion, salt, and pepper to taste
2 cups milk
6 pieces old bread
Velveeta slices
Beat the six eggs. Add breakfast meat and seasonings. Pour into greased cake pan. Leave in refrigerator overnight. In the morning, heat oven to 350 degrees. Put Velveeta slices on top. Bake half an hour.
ORANGE CRANBERRY BREAD
½ cup butter
¾ cup sugar
1 teaspoon grated orange peel
⅓ cup chopped pecans
¾ cup coarsely chopped cranberries
2 ½ cups flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
½ teaspoon salt
⅓ cup milk
⅔ cup orange juice
Glaze:
1 cup powdered sugar
4 teaspoons orange juice
Heat oven to 350 degrees. Combine butter, sugar, egg, and orange peel. Add juice, milk, and dry ingredients. Add nuts and cranberries last.
Spoon into greased loaf pan. Bake 50 to 60 minutes. Mix powdered sugar and orange for glaze, spread over cooled bread.
Stay Tuned for
Shelley Shepard Gray’s
Next Novel
The Caregiver
Coming soon from
Spring 2011
Monday, June 7, 11:59 P.M.
South Bend, Indiana
“So … it looks like I’m your seatmate.”
Slowly Lucy Troyer opened her eyes and turned to the deep-sounding voice. Then couldn’t help but stare. The man speaking to her was Amish. And, she just realized, he’d spoken to her in Pennsylvania Dutch.
She blinked. How could that be? From the time she’d left the train station in Kalamazoo, she’d hardly come across more than a handful of people like herself, and they’d been in the train station in Chicago.
As her eyes continued to focus, the man—who really was too handsome for his own good—had the nerve to wink. “I know, it’s enough to make ya smile, ain’t it?” he asked, bright blue eyes shining underneath the soggy brim of his black felt hat. “The coach attendant took me through practically this whole train here, and I didn’t spy a single other Plain traveler. Until you. And now … here we are.”
Yes, here they were, she repeated to herself, slowly wondering if she’d ever seen another jaw so fine. Or shoulders so broad …
When she noticed he was still standing, and she was still staring, Lucy shook herself out of her reverie. “I’m sorry. Am I taking up both the seats?”
“Not so much. But it would be to your benefit to scoot over as much as you can, if you don’t mind. I’m near soaked to the skin.” Shrugging off his wet jacket, he grinned broadly. “You’re right lucky you were inside this train instead of waiting in the weather. The storm is a terrible one, for sure.”
“I fell asleep more than an hour ago. I didn’t even realize it was raining.” She scooted over a bit and pushed her skirts more neatly around her. “There. I hope this is better?”
“You’re fine. Of course, you’re fine,” he murmured as he pulled a modern-looking backpack up from the floor and hefted it into the chrome container above their heads.
Then, with the pleased expression of completing a task, he joined her, bringing with him the scent of rain and man and something so fresh it made her think of spring.
Despite their best intentions, his pants brushed against her dress, making the once terribly roomy pair of seats seem suddenly narrow and confining.
Around them, in the dim light of the overhead fluorescents, the other passengers mumbled and snored. After a faint call of ‘all aboard,’ the train chugged into motion.
As the station slowly faded from view, her new seatmate spoke. “I haveta admit, I don’t fancy boarding a train at midnight. But what do ya do, huh? We’re bound by the train schedule.”
“Indeed.” Lucy ached to think of something else to say, something far more significant, but her mind went blank.
But instead of looking at her strangely, her one-word answer seemed to amuse him. “So, I’m guessing you didn’t board here in South Bend. When did you get on?”
“Back in Kalamazoo, Michigan.”
“So you’ve been traveling for some time.”
“Jah. Hours and hours. I boarded a different train back in Kalamazoo, then got on this one in Chicago.”
“You’ve had quite an exciting day, then.”
Again, she noticed that his whole demeanor was patient. Kind. Not searching for faults.
With effort, she pushed back the hint of unease she felt rushing forward, heating her cheeks. Just because a handsome man looks like Paul, it doesn’t mean he’s like him inside, she cautioned herself.
Feeling his stare, Lucy knew he was still waiting for her to say something. “You could say that my day’s been exciting,” she said slowly. “At least, it has been for me. It’s my first train trip by myself.”
“We’ll have to stick together then, jah?”
Lucy turned her head away so he wouldn’t see the surprise in her eyes. This man was quickly turning her stomach into knots. She wasn’t used to talking to men she didn’t know. Especially one on one.
Obviously misjudging her uneasiness, he cleared his throat. “Have I apologized to you for waking you up?”
“There’s no need for that. If I was sleeping, it wasn’t too deeply. Just dozing.”
He leaned back on his chair and wiggled a bit as it creaked and groaned. “A doze is probably all we’ll get. This train’s sure seen better days, ain’t so?”
“I think so,” she said softly. But of course, she’d seen better days, as well. It used to be, talking with a man would make her smile. Now she was on edge.
Waiting for him to say something disparaging. The way her husband used to.
Next to her, the man fidgeted again, finally pulling out a newspaper that she hadn’t even noticed he’d slipped in the pocket of the seat in front of them. “By the way, I’m Calvin.”
“I’m Lucy.”
Calvin inclined his head. “Lucy, I’m pleased to meet you.”
“Uh. Yes,” she said, then feeling like a fool again, she turned toward the window and closed her eyes. But though she tried her best to relax, she was finding it next to impossible. She was too aware of his presence. His smile. His easy way of moving.
And the horrible knowledge that once again she was noticing a too-handsome man she really knew nothing about.
Just like she’d done with Paul.
As Lucy closed her eyes next to him, Calvin shook his head with regret. When he’d first saw the woman next to him, he’d been thanking his lucky stars. She was a pretty thing, and looked so pleasant. Lucy’s hair was the color of dark golden honey, and her light golden eyes looked like a clear sky on an early winter morning.
But her attitude had been so skittish—almost as if she’d wished he would sit next to anyone but her.
Almost as if she’d been afraid of him.
He frowned. Never before in his twenty-six years had a girl looked at him with such apprehension. On the contrary, most seemed to go out of their way to be good company.
He’d always taken that for granted, he supposed. It was what came of being Calvin Weaver, the oldest son of the Weaver family—the biggest landowners in Jacob’s Crossing.
As he turned the page of The Budget, and tried to fold the paper so it wouldn’t brush against Lucy’s dress, he glanced her way again.
Besides her golden hair and matching eyes, she was altogether lovely. Slim and blessed with full cheeks. With some surprise, Calvin realized she was older than he’d first thought, too. Most likely she was closer to his age than not.
Surely she wasn’t some shy young girl.
And she also didn’t seem to actually be sleeping—more like she was just pretending to sleep. Obviously
so she wouldn’t have to talk to him.
So what was it that had set her off? Had he said something that could be misconstrued? Replaying their brief conversation in his mind, he could think of nothing untoward.
Well, perhaps she was simply a reserved sort of person. Bored with the paper, Calvin looked around the rest of the train car. Perhaps he’d find a congenial man to visit with? But the dozen or so people who shared the space with him all looked to be happily occupied or fast asleep.
Almost against his will, he pulled the worn letter out from his jacket’s inside pocket. In the relative privacy of his seat, he smoothed out the creases, rubbing his thumb against the folds. Over the words he had memorized six weeks ago, but couldn’t seem to let go of.
His last letter from Gwen.
There was no reason for him to still have the note. He knew why Gwen had broken up with him. She’d fallen in love with someone else. One of his friends.
Everyone expected Gwen and Abraham to declare themselves any day.
And that knowledge—and their betrayal—hurt more terribly than he’d imagined it could.
Dear Calvin, the letter began. I fear I must finally be honest with you …
She’d feared. Finally. Each phrase hurt him anew. Calvin blinked, then, like an addict, focused on the words again, further down the page.
Abraham and I, we can’t help our feelings, you see …
As the words swam in front of him, a conversation with his brothers floated forward.
“Why don’t you go to Indiana for a spell,” his youngest brother Graham had told him. “There’s no need for you to witness their courting.”
But running away had seemed weak, and he’d told them that.
His brother Loyal had simply laughed. “What does it matter if people think you’re weak or strong? All that matters is how you feel. And for the record, I think you have every right to feel betrayed.”
“Jah,” Graham added. “They went and fell in love right under your nose. Get away from here for a week or so. Clear your head.”
Well, Graham never had been one to mince words.
But though his brothers’ advice made perfect sense … and though his mother had wholeheartedly supported his vacation, Calvin had hemmed and hawed. He’d stayed up long nights and prayed for answers. For the right answers. But the only advice that rang true to him were the words from his brothers.
That there was no shame in being hurt.
So, he’d left Jacob’s Crossing and journeyed west to Indianapolis. He’d visited his Uncle James, who’d become an Englischer before Calvin had been born. His uncle hadn’t asked about his reason for being there. Perhaps he’d already heard. But instead of treating him to questions, Uncle James had driven him around his hometown.
Together, they’d visited museums, and the racetrack. They’d walked city blocks and ridden bicycles. Slowly, Calvin began to feel less depressed about his reasons for being there and had begun to take comfort in the blessings he was given. He admired the tall buildings and the intricately designed gardens. He bought a dozen postcards to show his brothers.
Afterward, so he could justify his week of rest, he traveled north and went to a horse auction.
And then boarded this train.
In mere hours, he’d be back to Jacob’s Crossing. Back to where everything was familiar and almost comfortable.
If he tried real hard, Calvin was sure he’d be able to tell everyone that Gwen and Abraham’s new affection for each other hardly mattered to him at all. Even though he was now the one lying.
He knew he needed to throw out Gwen’s note and move on, in mind as well as deed.
But as if his hands were of their own accord, he neatly folded the paper back again and slipped it into his pocket. There would be another time. Another, better time.
Just like there would be time to move forward, and finally take out Edith. Like his heartbreak, it had been no secret that she was wearing her heart on her sleeve for him. Edith would make a wonderful wife.
And though he doubted he would ever love her, Calvin was beginning to think that love was an overvalued thing anyway. All it really ever did was make a man make a fool of himself.
And who needed that?
He turned back to the Budget when a child two rows back whined. The noise startled a babe. Its cries encouraged several children to raise their voices to be heard. And still Lucy pretended to sleep beside him.
If he hadn’t been so well-mannered, Calvin would have snorted. Between the baby crying, the kinner yelling, the rain pounding overhead, and the muggy, almost too-warm air surrounding them, sleep was near impossible.
At last Lucy opened her eyes. “Perhaps trying to sleep was a foolish idea.”
Calvin waited a few seconds, flipped the page, and then answered. “Not so foolish, I don’t think. But perhaps one doomed for failure.”
“We must be heading into the storm,” she said. “I just heard thunder.”
“Jah. Things do seem to be getting a worse, don’t they?”
She scooted to the edge of her seat. “Would you mind if I got a project out of my bag? I might as well crochet.”
He stood up. “I’ll pull your bag down for you.”
“I can do it—”
“Jah, but it is easier for me. I’m right here.” He’d just reached his arms up to grab hold of the fabric handle when the train rocked again.
“Oh!” Lucy said.
Outside, a flash of lightning illuminated the sky. Inside, the row of florescent lights flickered. The train rocked again.
Almost losing his balance, Calvin reached for the chrome bar and gripped it hard.
“Gebb acht!” Lucy warned.
“I am being careful. Don’t worry,” he murmured. Just as the lights flickered again, then seemed to give up the fight. Shrouding them in darkness.
Beside him, Lucy cried out.
Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
GRACE. Copyright © 2010 by Shelley Shepard Gray.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
EPub Edition © SEPTEMBER 2010 ISBN: 978-0-062-01847-2
FIRST AVON PAPERBACK EDITION PUBLISHED 2010.
Designed by Diahann Sturge
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Gray, Shelley Shepard.
Grace : a Christmas sisters of the heart novel / Shelley Shepard Gray.—1st Avon pbk. ed.
p. cm.—(Sisters of the heart)
ISBN 978-0-06-199096-0 (pbk.)
1. Christmas stories. I. Title.
PS3607.R3966G73 2010
813’.6—dc22 2010027297
10 11 12 13 14 OV/RRD 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
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