Christmas at Promise Lodge

by Charlotte Hubbard

As Roman polished off his slice of peach pie, he eyed the untouched slice of coconut cream pie beside his cousin Phoebe’s plate. Phoebe was chatting with Gloria Lehman, but the bishop’s daughter wasn’t fooling him: she was standing in front of the eck table to be sure he saw her. Gloria’s behavior was about as subtle as a wag-tailed puppy’s, so he looked for a way to stall getting up from the table. She was sure to follow him wherever he went.

  “You going to eat this, Cuz?” he asked, tapping the pie plate with his finger.

  Phoebe shook her head. Her knowing smile suggested that she knew what Gloria was up to and that Roman intended to avoid spending time with her. “Go for it. I’m saving room for some wedding cake later.”

  “Happy to help,” Roman said as he set her plate on top of the one he’d just emptied.

  “So you like coconut cream pie?” Gloria asked coyly. “I’ll have to bake one for you sometime. I use cream instead of milk—and lots of brown sugar.”

  Roman shoved a large bite of the pie into his mouth so he wouldn’t have to answer. He knew a lot more about eating than about cooking, but it seemed odd to him that anyone would make a creamy-white coconut pie with brown sugar.

  “That looks like the pie Ruby made, using milk from the cows Roman milks. She puts toasted coconut on top of hers,” Phoebe remarked matter-of-factly. “The Kuhn sisters say Christine’s Holsteins give such rich milk, their cheese tastes better than any they’ve made before.”

  “Mmm,” Roman said, nodding in agreement. The pie was fabulous, thick and creamy and sweet. The second bite he took was smaller so he could stretch out the time it would take to eat the rest of the slice.

  “You must make a lot of money for your aunt, selling her herd’s milk, if she can pay you enough to build a new house,” Gloria said. She gazed sweetly at Roman, batting her long eyelashes.

  Roman stopped chewing. It wasn’t particularly a secret that his mother had given him and Noah their choice of lots or that Amos had insisted on building him a home before winter set in. Roman had bunked in the barn loft over the summer so the lodge could be properly maintained as apartments for ladies. Noah and Deborah had offered him a room at their new place, but Preacher Amos had sensed that Roman and the newlyweds would both be more comfortable having separate homes.

  Not that he cared to discuss any of this with Gloria. She was fishing for information concerning his livelihood—how well he could support a wife—and he wasn’t biting.

  “Along with helping your dat with his window and siding business, Roman milks twice every day and helps maintain all the common buildings on our property,” Phoebe reminded Gloria as she flashed Roman another secretive smile. “Not everyone would rise before the sun, winter and summer, to tromp around in that barn and handle all those cows—and to muck out their manure.”

  When Gloria wrinkled her nose, Roman wondered if she practiced that expression in front of a mirror. “I sure hope your new house has a mud room—and a hose outside the back door so you won’t track in anything stinky.”

  Roman shrugged. “When you work with cows, you’re going to step in it,” he remarked, hoping to dissuade her. “Some of my clothes and boots have spent so much time in the barn, no amount of scrubbing gets the odor out.”

  Gloria pressed a fist to her hip as she twirled one of her kapp strings. “I bet I could wash up your clothes so they smelled clean!”

  “If that’s an offer, I’d be silly to turn it down,” Roman remarked as he cut another bite of pie. His mother had shown him how to operate a wringer washing machine so he’d be more self-sufficient when he moved into his house, yet he suddenly wanted to see how far Gloria would go in her efforts to impress him. “What say I give you a shot at washing my barn clothes after I tend this afternoon’s milking and mucking?”

  Gloria’s dark brown eyes widened as she considered the pros and cons of making good on her boast. “You’re on!” she said brightly. “What time shall I come by the barn for your clothes?”

  Roman nearly choked on his bite of pie. Gloria made it sound as if he’d be peeling off his clothes and handing them to her. “Might be better if I brought them to your house,” he suggested. “That would give me a chance to clean up and put the clothes into a bag for you. Once I turn the cows back outside—”

  “I could come and help you!” Gloria blurted. “I’ve always wanted to see a dairy cow up close and—”

  “Absolutely not.” Roman set down his fork and focused on her. “I have to maintain health department sanitation regulations, so I can’t have other folks coming in and out of the milking barn on a whim, Gloria,” he explained in a low but firm voice. “Your presence—any stranger’s arrival—would make the cows nervous, too. If one of them stepped on your foot, I’d have a serious issue to deal with right in the middle of the milking. Stay home. Please.”

  Gloria’s eyes widened as though she might burst into tears. “You don’t have to be so mean about it,” she whimpered.

  From a few seats down, Noah joined the conversation. “Roman’s just following regulations, Gloria,” he reiterated kindly. “He has set procedures, as far as getting the milk into a refrigerator tank and doing things just right to prevent any chance of contamination goes. Running a dairy’s a lot different from a family keeping a milk cow or two.”

  “And I might work longer than you realize after the milking’s done,” Roman continued, trying to be patient. “The truck comes to fetch our milk early tomorrow morning, so everything’s got to be ready. And then I have to feed and water the herd, muck out the barn, and sanitize the milking equipment.”

  He smiled, hoping to avoid a scene. His two aunts, Gloria’s mamm, and the other ladies had probably been following this conversation as they reset the long tables for the second shift of folks that were coming in to eat. “I’ll understand if you don’t want to wash my clothes, Gloria,” he repeated in a low voice. “I doubt you’ll want to mix my grungy stuff in with your family’s other laundry, and I certainly don’t expect you to do my pieces by themselves. Nor would it be nice of me to bring over the whole week’s worth of my barn clothes so you’d have a full load.”

  Gloria’s expression told him she hadn’t considered these details in her eagerness to please him, to win some time alone with him. “Maybe you’re right, Roman,” she murmured. “I—I just wanted to help.”

  “And I appreciate it.” He had the distinct impression that Gloria wanted him to make her a better offer—to suggest something fun they could do together—but he kept quiet. After the enjoyable time he’d spent with Mary Kate on the Lehmans’ porch, he knew better than to mix it up with two sisters. Gloria was completely different in temperament and intention, and no matter how nice he was to both of them, one sister was bound to get her feelings hurt—or he’d get caught in the middle and they’d both turn on him.

  “Well, I guess I’ll get back to the kitchen and help with the cleaning up,” Gloria said with a long-suffering sigh. “Seems to me that Mary Kate could’ve stuck around here to help us, considering how Dat told her not to show herself at the wedding. I bet she’s had a fine, restful day playing with the cats . . .”

  Her sentence drifted off as she turned to leave. Roman glanced at the last bite of his coconut pie and left it. Why did girls have to be so complicated? He hadn’t given Gloria any encouragement that he knew of.

  Noah, Deborah, and Laura rose from their places to stretch and walk around as the new shift of folks took their seats. “Careful there,” his brother murmured when he passed behind Roman’s chair. “Something tells me that the four-legged Lehman cats have nothing on Gloria, when it comes to claws.”

  “I suspect you’re right,” Roman replied. He glanced at Phoebe. “Denki for helping me out. Gloria’s been trying to get my attention ever since the Lehmans moved here—”

  “Because you’re the only guy her age at Promise Lodge—and because you’re building a new house and you have a steady income,” Phoebe pointed out. “With Noah married, you’re the obvious
choice for any single girls who come here. Lucky you, Roman.”

  “Jah, right.” He watched his mother come into the dining hall with her hand in Preacher Amos’s and a glow on her face. When Mamm beckoned to him and then to Noah and Deborah, Roman stood up. “Well, now. This looks interesting.”

  As he approached them, he couldn’t miss the way his mother beamed. Amos’s wide smile formed little curves on either side of his mouth. “Noah and Roman,” his mother said as she reached happily for their hands, “I’ve just agreed to marry Amos! We wanted you boys to be the first to know—and you, too, Rosetta and Christine.”

  Roman’s two aunts and Deborah immediately laughed and began hugging Mamm and Amos, congratulating them loudly enough that everyone in the room wanted to be a part of the celebration.

  “High time,” Noah teased as he pumped Amos’s hand. “Maybe Deborah and I were your inspiration, eh?”

  Amos laughed. Years had fallen away from his leathery, tanned face and he exchanged yet another smile with Mamm. “Patience and persistence are a man’s best friends,” he replied. “I’ve loved your mother since I was a lot younger than you boys. I promise to take gut care of her. She’s a woman to be prized and cherished.”

  Roman shook hands with Amos, as well. “Happy for both of you,” he murmured as he returned his mother’s hug.

  He stood back to allow the Kuhn sisters and Frances Lehman to express their congratulations, knowing his mother would be a lot happier with Amos than she’d been alone. His thoughts took him back to his childhood and youth . . . the times he’d realized that Dat was mistreating his mother both verbally and physically, and he hadn’t known what to do about it. Their bishop in Coldstream had considered it a man’s right to discipline his wife, even after his father had broken Mamm’s nose—

  But that’s behind us now, Roman reminded himself. Amos Troyer was a different sort of man altogether, compassionate and caring even when he had to reprimand church members for behavior that didn’t honor their Ordnung or God. Now Mamm had someone to see to her needs and keep her company—

  A new household and a new man to be the head of it.

  Roman blinked. After assuming responsibility for his mamm’s care—considering himself the man of the family after Dat’s passing—it seemed strange that his mother would soon be going by a different name. She wouldn’t be cooking regular meals for him anymore or confiding in him as much, although he knew he’d always be welcome at her and Amos’s table. She wouldn’t need him in the same ways—although Mattie Schwartz had never allowed widowhood to hold her back or make her dependent upon anyone. Her successful produce stand was proof of that.

  Noah came over to stand beside Roman as they watched other well-wishers crowd around Preacher Amos and their mother. “This should get the bishop off their backs,” he murmured.

  “Jah, and we’ll see what happens to the roadside stand and the garden plots,” Roman replied. “So, is it just me or does this make you feel kind of funny—thinking of Amos as our step-dat? Or is he just Mamm’s second husband, because he didn’t raise us and won’t be supporting us financially?”

  “Haven’t thought much about such things,” Noah replied with a shrug. “But I’m grateful to Amos for seeing to Mamm’s needs so we no longer have to, in ways we’re not able to. He makes her happy—and their marriage will free up our time and energy so we can focus on our own families. Our futures.”

  Easy for you to say.

  Roman wondered where this unspoken retort had come from, because he wished Noah and Deborah every blessing as they began their life together. He was feeling like the odd man out, however, the last single man remaining—except for Truman Wickey, who had also come into the dining room with Marlin Kurtz and his kids to congratulate the engaged couple.

  Preacher Amos flashed Roman a thumbs-up from the center of the crowd that had gathered around him and Mamm. It seemed to Roman that romantic matters must come easier for folks the second time around, because they’d gotten past the bumpy roads of adolescence and dating, finding mates, and setting up households. Older folks had their priorities and preferences figured out and they were established in their occupations. They knew their places in life, and the paths God intended for them to follow—didn’t they?

  Preacher Amos made love look as easy as casting a line and catching a big fish from Rainbow Lake. Roman couldn’t imagine himself looking so happy if he were standing beside Gloria Lehman—not that he’d ever ask her out, much less ask her to marry him.

  When he glanced toward the doorway, he saw Mary Kate’s unmistakably pregnant profile as she paused to look into the kitchen. Her hand moved slowly over her belly, as though comforting her baby was already second nature to her.

  Can she feel it shifting, kicking? Does it respond to her touch? Roman wondered. Curiosity made his fingers tingle—although he would never ask Mary Kate if he could place his hand on her roundness to get the answers to his questions.

  As though she sensed his presence, Mary Kate surveyed the dining hall until her gaze met his. Her smile lit her face slowly, much as a sunrise painted the morning sky with strokes of peach and pink and shimmering light. When she entered the kitchen, Roman felt compelled to follow her.

  Not while Gloria’s there.

  He sighed. The gray-haired Kuhn sisters were rolling a cart loaded with heaping plates of chicken, potatoes and gravy, and dressing toward the table nearest his mother and Preacher Amos. “You folks sit down and enjoy your meal together,” Beulah urged them as Ruby began setting plates in front of the chairs. “Oh, but this has been a big day! A happy day for one and all!”

  Amos pulled out a chair for Mamm, and then he let his hand linger on her shoulder after he seated her. Mamm beamed up at him so confidently, so joyfully, that Roman almost couldn’t stand to watch. Once again he wondered if love came a lot easier to men who’d been around the block before.

  Wouldn’t it be nice to see Mary Kate smiling at you that way?

  Chapter Five

  Sunday at last! And no church today.

  Amos rolled out of bed with a burst of energy, even though the sun wasn’t due up for another hour. Ever since Noah and Deborah’s wedding, his head had been in the clouds and his heart had been on his sleeve. Mattie was all he could think about while he’d been working on houses the past couple of days, as well as when he’d gone to the lodge for dinner in the evenings. This morning he was picking her up in the rig and they were going for a long drive and having a picnic to enjoy the end-of-fall weather, and to discuss important details about their marriage without other interested parties listening in.

  As Amos chose clean pants and suspenders along with one of his better shirts, he smiled. Someday soon he wouldn’t have to do his own laundry, or rely upon lunchmeat and easy-to-heat dinners from the grocery store, or clean the bathrooms—not that he saw Mattie merely as a cook and housekeeper. His Anna had been very capable when it came to tending the household and raising their three kids, but she might have been a more joyful, adventurous wife had he encouraged her to think outside the traditional Amish box. And maybe if he’d made Anna happier, their twin girls and Allen wouldn’t have moved back east.

  He wouldn’t—couldn’t—follow that pattern with Mattie. She’d lived independently for long enough to know that she didn’t really need a man, especially one who expected her to obey his every whim or else suffer the discipline he dished out. Amos’s goal this time around was to have fun with his wife, to enjoy their time together in his new home—which he was going to allow her to decorate as she wished. The careworn furniture from his first marriage had served its time. New easy chairs and a sofa—and a new bedroom set—would be symbols of their fresh start together.

  With Mattie, he wasn’t going to be so frugal or stern. Amos considered her his equal. It was an uncommon mindset for a Plain preacher, but it was the only way their union would thrive.

  Amos showered, shaved above his silver-spangled beard, and dressed quickly. After a fast cu
p of coffee and a fried egg sandwich, he went out to tend his two horses. On his way to the barn, he glanced toward the lodge and saw light in Mattie’s upstairs apartment window. It was his fondest dream, his firm intention, to make light shine in her life for as long as they lived. He was fifty and she was forty-five, both of them fit and healthy, so they could look forward to a lot of happy years together.

  When he drove his open rig down the hill toward the lodge, Mattie was waiting for him on the big porch. “Gut morning, Amos!” she called out as she hurried toward him with a picnic hamper.

  He hopped down to relieve her of the basket. As his hand closed over hers, Amos brushed her cheek with a quick kiss. “It is a gut morning, dear Mattie,” he murmured. “I’ve been looking forward to this day with you ever since you suggested it at the wedding. You make me feel like a kid again, you know it?”

  Mattie’s laugh tickled his ears as he stuck the hamper behind the seat. He lifted her up into the buggy, enjoying the feel of her slender, sturdy body beneath the light coat she wore.

  “I’ll never be twenty again, but I’m fine with that,” she replied. “Now that all my kids are grown up—”

  “Are you sure about that?” Amos settled himself on the seat. He raised his eyebrows, partly teasing but gazing straight into Mattie’s wide eyes. “We know folks who’ve had kids at our age.”

  “But it’s been twenty-one years!” she protested. “My baby got married this week. And besides, you built a small house because your kids are married and gone.”

  Amos clucked at his horse, not surprised at the alarm in Mattie’s answer. He considered his response, treading carefully. It was too early to upset her on a day he wanted to go perfectly. “I could certainly expand the house, if need be. Children are gifts from God. We’re to welcome them as blessings,” he reminded her gently. “And I do enjoy, um, what causes them.”

  Mattie’s cheeks flared. She gazed steadily up and down the road they’d reached, checking for traffic instead of looking at him. “Jah, I suppose you would.”