A Log Cabin Christmas Collection

by Margaret Brownley; Jane Kirkpatrick; Kelly Eileen Hake; Liz Johnson; Liz Tolsma; Michelle Ule; Debra Ullrick; Erica Vetsch Wanda E. Brunstetter

  Awnya tilted her head, and her lips slowly curved. This time, she had caught him staring at her. But instead of looking away, he allowed his gaze to roam over her face, over the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen, and down to her rosebud lips.

  “I make hot cocoa. Here.” His mother’s voice behind him pulled his attention from Awnya. She handed them each a cup.

  “Thank you,” they responded at the same time.

  “Welcome.” Louissa chuckled. “Sit, und get warm.”

  He moved the rockers closer to the fire. “Mama, vill you not join us?”

  “Nein. I make butter.”

  “Oh. Let me help you with that.” Awnya shifted to rise, but his mother laid her hand on Awnya’s shoulder.

  “Nein. You sit. It will give me something to do, und I use that time to beten.”

  “To what?”

  “Pray,” Amadeus answered for her.

  “Oh, I see.”

  Mama headed to the kitchen.

  Awnya faced the fire and took a sip of her drink. “Ummm. Your mother makes great hot chocolate.”

  “Ja. She does.”

  In comfortable silence, they drank their cocoa.

  Awnya raised her legs and pointed her toes toward the flames. Her woolen stockings looked like a moth had eaten them.

  “Awnya, why did you not say something?”

  She whirled her face toward him. “Say something about what?”

  “Your stockings.”

  “My stockings?” She looked at her feet. Her eyes widened, and she quickly planted them back on the floor and tucked them under her skirt hem. Red flooded her cheeks. He felt bad, embarrassing her by mentioning something so delicate, but the situation needed attention.

  “Had I known your socks were like that, inside I would have insisted you stay. I am sorry.”

  “Sorry for what? There’s no way you could have known I ran out of thread. Besides, I’m used to it.” She stopped suddenly. Her gaze shot to his then back to the flames. “Can we not talk about this, please?”

  He would not discuss it further, but he would definitely do something about it. In his wife’s trunk were many pairs of stockings. Later, he would have his mother give them to her.

  “Papa, we’re bored. Can we make ornaments?” Isabella asked from beside him.

  “Ja. Good idea, liebchen.” He faced Awnya. “You wish to join us?”

  “Papa! I don’t want her to join us.” Isabella planted her hands on her hips and pursed her lips.

  Once again he made his daughter apologize. He needed to talk to her about her attitude, and soon, but not now. They had ornaments to make.

  “Oma, you want to help make ornaments?” Isabella skipped over to his mama’s side.

  “Nein, meine schatz.” She patted Isabella’s cheek with her wrinkled, age-spotted hand. “I am tired und need a nap. But you go ahead, ja?”

  Isabella’s smile dropped, as did her hands to her side. “Okay.” She looked at the floor.

  His heart ached for his daughter. Mama tried to do what Georgina used to, but lately she seemed to tire faster. Isabella needed a young mother. He glanced at Awnya and once again told God the only present he wanted was her.

  Awnya hadn’t made a single ornament since her mother’s death. No need to. There had been no Christmas tree to put it on. Pa wouldn’t hear of it, nor would he let her decorate their home. He apologized often, saying it hurt too much because her ma loved Christmas and had always made a big to-do about it. Awnya missed celebrating Christmas. So right or wrong, she would not allow one disgruntled little girl to stop her.

  “Awnya. You have ideas for ornament making?” Amadeus asked. “Oh yes. Lots of them.”

  “Good, good.”

  Awnya turned to Isabella and the boys. “I could make both gingerbread and salt dough that you could shape into something Christmassy. Then I’ll bake them.”

  “I don’t want to do that,” Isabella snipped.

  “I do,” both boys said. Shy Ethan jumping in made Awnya’s heart happy.

  “All right. If you will help me get the ingredients, then I’ll make the dough.” She looked over at Amadeus for his approval. He gave a quick nod. She smiled, feeling like a kid again.

  After the ingredients were gathered and hands were washed, Awnya made the dough and rolled it out. Isabella sat at the table with her arms crossed, eyes narrowed, and her lips pinched.

  “You sure you don’t want to join us, Isabella? We could use your help.” Her eyes brightened, and then she rolled them. “I suppose.” She sighed heavily, uncrossed her arms, and leaned forward.

  They all sat at the knotty-pine table, and Awnya placed a slab of rolled-out dough before them.

  “What shapes do you recommend?” she asked Isabella.

  Isabella closed her eyes and sighed, but Awnya could tell she was pleased.

  “How about snowmen?” Jakob blurted.

  Isabella’s eyes darted open. “Jakob! She was asking me.”

  “So? I’d like to make some snowmen.”

  “That’s boring.” Isabella snorted.

  “Not to me.”

  “Das is genug!” Whatever Amadeus said, the children stopped immediately. “Jakob, you und Ethan can make whatever you like, but Awnya asked your sister a question.”

  The boys groaned, and Isabella smirked at them.

  “Is—a—bell—a.” Amadeus’s voice held a warning.

  She briefly dropped her gaze then faced her father. “I think we should make a nativity scene. With animals, baby Jesus, the three wise men, and gifts.”

  Awnya hid her shock. “That’s a lovely idea.”

  Isabella never took her eyes off her father, but her face brightened.

  “I get to make the animals,” Jakob blurted.

  “I want to make them,” Ethan whined.

  “How about we each make one?” Isabella once again stunned Awnya, only this time with her ability to handle the situation.

  “Then who’ll make the rest of nativity stuff?” Jakob hiked his hands.

  “We all will, okay?” Isabella took charge, and Awnya sat back and let her. They nodded. Amadeus stoked the stove and sat back down.

  Once the misshaped nativity, stars, snowmen, hearts, and the other ornaments made from both gingerbread and salt dough were finished, Awnya baked them. When they had cooled, the little mismatched family ran string through the holes.

  “Now what are we going to do with them? We don’t have a tree,” Isabella said.

  “We vill. But until then, we can …” Amadeus rubbed his chin.

  Awnya scanned the room. “I have an idea.”

  Isabella hiked a brow and dipped her chin, her eyes straining upward at Awnya.

  Awnya pretended not to notice. “Why don’t we set the nativity up in that box?” She pointed to an empty cubby hanging on the wall. “We can string the rest together and hang them above the fireplace mantel. Then maybe another day we can make ornaments from clothespins and empty thread spools and string them in the windows.”

  “You won’t be here in a few days.”

  This time she couldn’t ignore the girl. Isabella was right. In a few days she wouldn’t be here. And that saddened her.

  Amadeus spoke from behind her. “With any luck, meine weihnachtsgeschenk, you vill be.” His breath warmed her ear, and chills skittered down her back.

  What did—how did he say it? ‘vie knoxs goo shink?’—mean anyway?

  Supper consisted of homemade buttered noodles mixed with fried potatoes and some oblong ground meat thing mixed with rice and onion. Earlier that day, Awnya had helped Louissa roll the ground meat mixture in softened cabbage leaves and was shocked when the woman had poured homemade canned sauerkraut on top. They were really quite delicious, and she barely tasted the sauerkraut. Buttermilk grebble sprinkled with sugar topped off the meal.

  -

  Afterward Amadeus placed several large pine and aspen logs into the cavern of the river-rock fireplace, making the room toa
sty and inviting. The children sat on the floor Indian style, and the three adults sat in the rocking chairs.

  Amadeus opened a Bible and read a scripture in German. “Also hat Gott…” He continued reading in German, but the words were lost on her. He looked up from his Bible and asked, “Does anyone know what scripture I just read?”

  Awnya had no clue. She didn’t speak a lick of German.

  His mother nodded, and the children raised their hands.

  “All together, kinder. Name the reference.”

  “John 3:16,” they all three said in unison.

  “Very good. Now together, quote it.”

  “‘For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.’ “They spoke slowly and clearly, and Awnya was amazed they knew it so well in English.

  “Now, each of you tell me what it means to you.”

  “It means Jesus gave His life for me so that I could live in heaven with Mama,” Isabella said softly.

  Though one side of her face was shadowed in the dim room, the side Awnya could see showed a little girl who missed and needed her mother. Awnya’s heart reached out to her. She knew what it was like to lose a mother at a young age.

  “Very good, Isabella. Und you, Jakob?”

  “God gave away His only boy so I could go to heaven to be with Opa and Mama and God.” Jakob’s gaze rose to Amadeus. “You wouldn’t give me up like that, would you, Papa?”

  Amadeus ruffled Jakob’s head. “Nein, mein liebchen. I would not.”

  The little boy’s chest heaved, and he looked upward. “Thank you, Jesus.”

  They all laughed.

  “Your turn, Ethan.”

  “I wouldn’t have wanted to be Jesus. They hurt Him really, really bad.” Ethan kept his voice and his head down.

  “They sure did. But He allowed them to because He loves us. Just think, we would not celebrate Christmas if He had not.”

  “What?” Jakob’s eyes darted open. “No Christmas? No Christmas tree? No gingerbread ornaments? No gifts?” He slung his small hand onto the side of his face and shook his head. “Ach du lieber. That would be terrible!”

  Ethan, Isabella, Louissa, and Awnya giggled, but Amadeus only smiled briefly, and then his lips slid into a grim line.

  “Jakob.” Amadeus leaned forward and looked at his son and then at his othertwo children. “Weihnachten…” He glanced at Awnya. “Um, I mean Christmas”—he looked back at his children—“is not about ornaments or trees or presents. It is a time to celebrate our Savior’s birth. Ja, we do those things in celebration, but the only gift that matters is Jesus. He is the best Geschenk ever.”

  Awnya’s breath hitched. There were those words again. Only now she knew what they meant—Christmas gift. Amadeus had called her his Christmas gift. She’d never been anyone’s gift before. Her heart warmed with the thought and what it implied. Thy will be done, Lord.

  Chapter 4

  At twilight Awnya stood at the wood-framed window near the kitchen, watching snowflakes accumulate on the porch rail and listening to the fierce winds rattle the glass. Shivers rippled through her body. She wrapped her arms around her, trying to block out the cold and the feeling of being trapped at the Josefs’ another day.

  Who was she kidding? She didn’t feel trapped at all. In fact, she rather enjoyed the idea of having to stay another day and dreaded the idea of going home to an empty house. The last three days here with Amadeus and his family had helped lessen the pain of missing her pa. The only disadvantage to this whole thing was Isabella, who obviously didn’t want her there. She pulled herself away from the window.

  While Louissa and Isabella made supper, Awnya churned the last of the cream into butter. Earlier she had helped Louissa make cheese. She found the whole process interesting. They had first scalded the milk and strained it, added soda and butter to the curds, and then let it sit for two hours before cooking it again in a pan over water. Next they had added salt and soured cream and cooked it a third time until the curds dissolved. After making sure they got most of the whey out, they molded the resulting blocks.

  Awnya had learned when Amadeus couldn’t deliver the milk for days that Louissa made cheese and stored it in large crocks in the cooling shed. Before she could serve it, she had to remove the mold that had formed around the outside of the cheese balls.

  “Supper is near done,” Louissa announced.

  Awnya cleaned her churning mess and helped ready the table.

  After they all sat down, Amadeus prayed.

  Awnya enjoyed the homemade German sausage known as wurst. Even the glace, which resembled tiny heavy dumplings with onions fried in lots of butter and a generous amount of cream, was surprisingly delicious. The only thing she did not enjoy was the sauerkraut on top of the meat. Eating it wasn’t something she could do without losing her supper. She didn’t mind when it was on top of the things Isabella had called pigs in a blanket. But alone? Eww. Ma’s words about eating what was set before her skittered through her mind. Oh dear. What to do? What to do? She removed her elk-tooth necklace tucked inside her dress and fidgeted with it, trying to discern an answer.

  “What’s that?” Jakob asked.

  “It’s an ivory elk tooth.”

  “An elk tooth?” Ethan joined in but quickly dropped his gaze when Awnya looked at him. Would the boy ever lose his shyness around her?

  “Eww.” Isabella scrunched her face and tsked. “That’s widerlich und a sin und a schande.”

  “Vee der what?”

  “Isabella!” Amadeus barked. His anger toward his daughter made Awnya wonder what she’d said. As if he read her mind, he translated for her. “Widerlich means disgusting. Und schande means shame. A sin und a schande is something meine grossmutter said all the time of things she did not like.”

  “A sin and a shame? Disgusting? You think my necklace is disgusting?” That hurt. “This was my mother’s, Isabella. Other than her Bible, it’s the only thing I have left of her. It is not disgusting, and it is not a sin and a shame either.” Awnya had never spoken so harshly to Isabella before, but how dare the little girl defame her mother’s necklace.

  “You’re wearing an animal’s tooth around your neck. That is disgusting.” The girl slammed her hands on her hips.

  “Isabella. Apologize this instant. Then go to your room, und do not come out until I say so.”

  “But what about dessert?” She pouted. “Oma made cherry kuga. My favorite.”

  Amadeus said nothing. But the look he gave his daughter was enough. She rose and moped her way to her room.

  Awnya felt bad that Isabella seemed to be always getting in trouble on account of her, and she had no idea how to fix it.

  “Do not trouble yourself over Isabella. It is not your fault.”

  She nodded even though she didn’t feel any less troubled.

  “Can we have some kuga now?” Jakob asked.

  “Ja.”

  Louissa scooted her seat back.

  “I’ll get it, Louissa.” Awnya jumped up and brought the sweet bread dessert with the cherry filling and the tiny specks of crumbled rivel baked on top. “Would anyone like anything more to drink?”

  She filled the adults’ coffee cups and the children’s milk glasses. Awnya savored every morsel of the delicious German dessert.

  Hours later, after the dishes were finished and the mess all picked up, Isabella was allowed some kuga before going to bed for the evening. Everyoneretired early except for Awnya and Amadeus. Sitting alone with him in front of the fireplace made her wish she never had to leave. But leave she must. It was clear her presence upset Isabella, and she had decided she would not come between a daughter and her father.

  Amadeus repaired his tack. Having Awnya near warmed his heart. Only feet from him, she sat rocking her chair, sipping her coffee and staring at the buckshot rifle hanging above the fireplace. “You look miles away, Awnya. What is your mind on?”

 
“Pa.”

  He laid his tack on the floor and faced her. “What about your pa?”

  She looked at him. Flames danced in her green eyes, along with … suspicion?

  “I was thinking about how much I miss him and about how he died. I can’t help but think his death wasn’t an accident. Too many strange things had happened up until the time of his death.”

  “Like what?”

  “Well, all our meat disappeared for one. Pa said wild animals got it, but I never saw any animal tracks near the meat shed, and there was no truth in Pa’s looks. I knew he was hiding something. Something he didn’t want me worrying about.”

  “You said many strange things. What else?”

  “Besides the feeling of being watched all the time, things kept disappearing. Grain. Tack. The spring box we built into the creek to keep our milk and food cool. A mess of animal pelts. Things like that. Plus, when I found Pa’s body, I never found his horse or his rifle.” Her gaze traveled to the rifle he’d recently purchased, the one hanging above the fireplace. “He had one just like the one you have hanging.” This time there was no mistaking the suspicion in her eyes.

  Realization dawned on him. She must think the rifle he had purchased from the traveling peddler was her pa’s. Did she also think he had something to do with his death? That thought slammed mountainous pain deep into his heart. He wanted to reassure her he had nothing to do with it, but the only way to do that would be to find out the truth. And he would, starting with the peddler. With Christmas mere days away, the peddler would be back. And Amadeus would be ready for him.

  After dinner the next day, Awnya peered out the window and discovered the snow had stopped. “Finally.”

  “Finally what?” Louissa asked from her rocking chair, resting her mending onto her lap, and Amadeus looked at her from stoking the cookstove.

  “It stopped snowing.” She faced the window.

  Within seconds, Amadeus was behind her, talking over her shoulder. “Too bad the drifts und snow are too deep to go to town. We—”

  “Jakob. Stop it!” Isabella cut her father’s word short.

  “Give it back!”

  They both whirled around at the same time.