“Mattie.”
She scooted against him, deliriously happy that he wanted to hold her again. “Jah?” she whispered. “I’m listening.”
“Of course you are. And had I followed your lead—had I listened with my heart instead of my hard head—we wouldn’t have spent the past month apart,” Amos murmured. “Can you forgive me for shutting you out, sweetheart? I’ve been such a stupid fool.”
Mattie rested her head against Amos’s shoulder. “We all take our turns at playing the fool, Amos. I’m so tickled that you’re feeling better now—and you know, it doesn’t matter one bit to me about your being in a wheelchair.”
“Well, it matters to me,” he retorted. He kissed her cheek, returning to his amiable mood. “But what matters more is that you’ve agreed to be with me again, to let me start over at trying to win your heart.”
“Oh, Amos,” Mattie said with a dreamlike sigh. “You’ve had my heart since we were kids. I—I might’ve set aside my feelings while we were married to Marvin and Anna, but I’ve always loved you, Amos. I don’t know how to stop.”
“It’s been the same for me,” he insisted. “But I’ve got to settle something today. I just hope I won’t fall flat on my face. Or my backside.”
Mattie blinked. Amos had steered the sleigh past the orchard and Ruby’s beehives, up the gently rising hill behind the two Lehman homes. Despite the carefree jingle of the sleigh bells, Amos now seemed so serious, so set on doing something exactly right for her. Surely he knows he doesn’t have to impress me anymore. We’re beyond those adolescent expectations . . .
When Mabel slowed down on the snow-covered path that led into the woods, Amos pulled the mare to a halt. With a nervous sigh, he looked at Mattie. “Why don’t you walk ahead of us, into the shelter of those old evergreens? Wait for me there, okay?”
Mattie’s eyes widened. She hadn’t seen Amos’s wheelchair folded in the backseat—not that he’d be able to propel it across the uneven ground, or through the snow that had piled up over the past few weeks. What on earth was he thinking to do?
The earnest expression on Amos’s dear, weathered face told Mattie not to ask any questions. She slipped out from under the quilt and onto the ground, glad she’d put on her boots before she’d left the lodge. Mattie walked toward the impressive evergreens, which were dressed in their lacy-white winter finery, praying that whatever Amos had in mind, it would go smoothly.
When she reached the edge of the woods where the evergreens formed a windbreak, she turned—and gasped. Amos was following her! His progress was slow, but with the aid of a cane he was carefully lifting one foot and putting it in front of the other. Mattie wanted to rush to him, shouting for joy, except she didn’t want to distract Amos from a task that was requiring his utmost concentration.
Lord, denki so much for whatever it’s taken to get him walking again! Mattie prayed as she watched each step he took. Her heart was thumping so hard Amos could probably hear it, because she felt such joy—such pride in his accomplishment. Now she understood why Amos had been secretive. He’d probably stashed his cane beneath the seat of the sleigh so she wouldn’t quiz him about it. No doubt he’d been working very hard with his physical therapists, but the real proof of his recovery—at least to Amos—depended upon his ability to walk without anyone else’s help.
A couple of yards away, Amos stopped. He placed his cane in front of him to lean on it for a moment as wisps of his breath encircled his head. “How’s that?” he murmured, fighting a grin.
“Amos, look at you! It’s our Christmas miracle!” Mattie cried, rushing toward him with her arms open wide. “I’m so—I’m so proud! And excited!”
“Watch out, now. Pride goes before a fall,” he murmured as she wrapped her arms around him. “And now that I’m this far from the sleigh, I don’t want to fall!”
Mattie laughed, exhilarated when Amos slipped an arm around her waist and claimed her lips in a long, thorough kiss. “Oh, Amos,” she whispered when she’d caught her breath. “This is the best Christmas gift ever, seeing you up and walking again. You’ve been working very hard.”
“You’ve got that right,” he said with a chuckle. “But when the therapist looked at my X-rays and found a few nerves that appeared pinched, he suggested some massage and some exercises that would get the blood pumping where it needed to be again. And I have to admit that taking the antidepressant Dr. Townsend prescribed was what got me on the road to recovery.”
“You could’ve ignored the doctor’s advice, like other men have done.”
When Amos smiled, the lines around his brown eyes deepened. “I was on a mission to walk—to be a whole man again—for you, Mattie. By the New Year, I hope to get you out on the lake, skating alongside me. Sometimes I’m too vain for my own gut, but this time that vanity spurred me on to get well. I never wanted to see pity in your eyes again, sweetheart.”
Mattie blinked back tears, speechless. She’d assumed Amos had cast her completely out of his life and thoughts these past lonely weeks, so it was a sweet relief to realize she’d served as an incentive for his recovery.
“I want to marry you as soon as we find a bishop who can tie the knot,” Amos murmured. “Is that still all right with you?”
“All right?” she challenged breathlessly. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted, Amos.”
“Shall we seal that intention with a kiss?”
Mattie’s cheeks went hot as Amos straightened to his full height. When he took her in his arms, she lifted her face to receive the blessing of his affection. At long last they were ready to marry, to become life partners in the truest sense. Amos lingered over the kiss, and when he eased away, Mattie stood on tiptoe to press her lips to his again.
Amos chuckled low in his throat. “What a happy day this is, and what a wonderful woman you are,” he murmured as he gazed into her eyes. “I’m a blessed man, Mattie. Now let’s turn around and survey our domain.”
When Mattie pivoted, her breath caught. From this vantage point, they could watch a few skaters gliding across Rainbow Lake, while other folks practiced walking on their skate blades by holding on to partners or to the dock that extended out over the ice. Wisps of smoke curled up from the lodge chimney. Snow covered the hillsides in a flawless blanket and decorated the rooftops of all the new houses and barns, while Rosetta’s goats, Christine’s cows, and Harley’s sheep munched contentedly at the hay in their outdoor feeders.
“It looks like one of those miniature villages you see in the stores around Christmas—except prettier,” Mattie murmured. “All we need is a train—”
“No, all we need is each other,” Amos corrected gently. “And with all of our kids settling down here at Promise Lodge, the world feels cozy and complete now, jah?”
“It does,” Mattie agreed. “You’ve said it all, Amos.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
As Roman watched the scholars’ Christmas Eve program from his seat in the large lodge meeting room, he had to smile. Who would’ve thought Lavern Peterscheim would play such a concerned, compassionate Joseph beside his twin sister, Lily—who, at thirteen, wasn’t much younger than Mary had been when she’d given birth to Jesus? Lily tenderly cradled a doll while Fannie Kurtz told the familiar Christmas story from the book of Luke.
“‘And she brought forth her firstborn son and wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger,’” Fannie recited with a peaceful smile on her face, “‘because there was no room for them in the inn. And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field—’”
Roman chuckled. On cue, Menno and Johnny came in from the other room, wearing old bathrobes with towels tied over their heads. Queenie walked obediently beside Johnny, panting slightly, as though the two crocheted lambs Menno carried were real sheep that needed her attention. As a kid, Roman had played the part of a shepherd with Noah many times, until he’d been promoted to being a Wise Man. His final year in school, he’d had to memorize this same passage from Luke so he
could recite it with meaning, allowing time for the younger kids to find their places and act out their parts in this perennial Christmas tradition.
Roman smiled at Teacher Minerva, who stood off to the side watching her scholars. She’d worked hard to get the Peterscheim boys and Lowell Kurtz to wear costumes and listen for their cues when their young minds were more excited about ice-skating than a story that had happened so long ago and far away.
But the coming of the Christ child became pertinent again with the birth of each new baby, didn’t it? Wasn’t a newborn a sign that God wanted the world to move forward with the new opportunities for grace and meaning He would provide?
Roman shifted in his chair, eager to visit Mary Kate and David after the scholars’ program ended. The Peterscheim boys had told him of their plan to invite her and the baby—and him—to play the holy family, but Roman was pleased that Teacher Minerva’s wisdom had prevailed. Mary Kate was adamant about keeping the baby at home, away from crowds, for several more weeks.
She’s such a loving, levelheaded young mother. Roman was sorry Mary Kate wasn’t able to watch the program this evening, but her sense of responsibility was one of many reasons he’d set his heart on marrying her . . . even if they had yet to convince her father that their union was a good idea.
Roman glanced across the room at the bishop, who sat slumped to one side in his chair. A lot of folks had felt Floyd Lehman was too conservative—and too outspoken—to serve as their new colony’s leader, yet now that a stroke had robbed the bishop of his ability to speak clearly, everyone felt compassion for him and his family. Floyd’s condition put the Amish residents of Promise Lodge in a difficult position: Old Order bishops were chosen to serve for the remainder of their lives. What if Floyd never recovered his ability to speak? How would he be able to tell them of God’s will?
As a stirring in the crowd brought Roman out of his deep thoughts, he realized it was time for refreshments—food he would skip in favor of enjoying whatever Mary Kate might have baked. She had convinced Roman to visit with her and David whenever he could, hoping that her father would someday accept his presence again.
When the folks around him stood up, Roman did, too. He spoke with Preacher Marlin and Harley, moving toward the lobby to get his coat—until something made Roman turn around. Bishop Floyd was thumping toward him with an awkward, purposeful gait, leaning heavily on his cane. The bishop’s facial expression seemed harsher than usual, but because his stroke had frozen half of his face, it was hard to determine his mood. Maybe Floyd sensed Roman was headed over to the house to spend time with Mary Kate, and he intended to prevent the visit.
Roman braced himself for the possibility of another loud, unintelligible lecture as Mary Kate’s father stopped in front of him. “Gut evening, Floyd,” he said cordially. “I thought our scholars did a fine job portraying the folks who were present for Christ’s birth. If it’s all right with you, I’d like to go and tell Mary Kate about the program—”
An expression that resembled a grimace crossed Floyd’s face as he fumbled in the pocket of his baggy brown sweater. He pulled out a small piece of paper and waved it toward Roman.
“For me?” Roman asked. He certainly hadn’t expected a note from Mary Kate’s dat, but when Floyd grunted and gave him a lopsided nod, Roman accepted it.
Be gut to MK. She needs you, Roman. You have my blessings.
The words were written in an uneven scrawl, but there was no mistaking their meaning.
Roman looked up and thought—for a fleeting moment—that he saw a sparkle in Bishop Floyd’s eyes. “Denki so much!” he whispered. “I’ll take very gut care of her and David—and I’ll watch over you and the rest of your family, too.”
With his good arm, the bishop waved him off.
Roman rushed through the lobby, grabbing his coat as he went. When he opened the door, Queenie raced past him, and when they got outside they were pelted with huge, white snowflakes. This new winter storm had piled another few inches of snow on top of what was already on the ground, and it showed no sign of stopping.
Roman looked again at the scrap of paper in his hand. He let out a whoop—which inspired Queenie to bark and jump around him, snapping gleefully at the snowflakes. Roman began running down the snow-covered road toward the Lehman place, eager to share his news with Mary Kate. He had asked Mamm to crochet a simple shawl for Mary Kate and another stuffed toy for David, as his Christmas presents to them, but who could’ve guessed her dat’s acceptance of him would be the greatest gift of all?
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“My word, would you look at that snow coming down!” Rosetta murmured as she peered out the kitchen window. “I was so engrossed in the kids’ program, I haven’t looked outside in a while. I’m glad Truman won’t have far to go when he takes his mamm home.”
Beside her, Mattie chuckled and placed more cookies on a tray. “Why do I suspect Truman won’t be staying home once he gets Irene inside?”
“And why do I figure Amos’s kids will be heading upstairs to their rooms long before their dat is ready to go home?” Rosetta fired back.
When Mattie giggled, Rosetta slung her arm around her sister’s shoulders. “And aren’t we glad it’s worked out that way for us?” she murmured. “Now, if we could only find a worthwhile fellow for Christine.”
“Keep the faith, Sister. He’ll show up when God decides it’s time.” Mattie picked up the big tray she’d loaded with cookies. “Let’s enjoy this first Christmas Eve with all our friends, shall we? Everyone’s in a gut mood after the kids put on their program, and we’ve got so much to celebrate and be grateful for.”
“We do,” Rosetta agreed. She followed Mattie into the dining room, where their friends and neighbors had gathered for refreshments. Rosetta smiled over the top of the coffee urn she carried when she spotted Truman at the end of a table. “And I, for one, am grateful that a solemn Christmas Day gives my poor backside a chance to recover from falling on the ice so many times. I’m sure Truman will want to resume my lessons on Second Christmas.”
Mattie laughed. “Maybe I can learn from your mistakes. Amos seems determined to get me on skates when his legs are stronger—and after the recovery he’s made, I wouldn’t dream of disappointing him.”
Christine came over to help Rosetta and Mattie set out the second round of coffee and cookies. “Can you believe how many of these treats we’re going through tonight? You’d think nobody ate supper before the program.”
“Oh, let’s be honest,” Rosetta teased. “The three of us Bender sisters, teamed up with the two Kuhns, have baked the best goodies any of these folks have ever—What on earth can Queenie be barking at? Sounds like we’ve got company.”
“Who would be out on such a snowy night?” Christine asked as she, Rosetta, and Mattie hurried into the lobby. “Surely can’t be anyone local, so maybe they’re lost.”
When Rosetta swung open the front door, snowflakes swirled inside with a cold blast of wind. “Hullo out there!” she called loudly when she saw an enclosed buggy had pulled up beside the porch. “Queenie, come here! Stop your barking.”
“She’s got every right to bark,” a melodious male voice replied. A very tall, burly fellow was getting out of the buggy, shielding his face from the snow with a gloved hand. “Dogs only bark at strangers—and there’s nobody stranger than me! But I guess I should let you folks form your own opinion. I hope I’ve reached Promise Lodge?”
“Jah, you have,” Rosetta replied, holding the door open for him. “We weren’t expecting anybody on such a night—”
“And I wasn’t expecting to get waylaid by nasty weather and snow-clogged roads. I’d hoped to arrive in time to see your scholars present their traditional Christmas Eve program,” their guest replied. “But I couldn’t ask the kids to do it over, just for the likes of me.”
Rosetta stared as the fellow removed his broad-brimmed black hat. He sported thick brown hair and his curly beard framed a friendly, masculine smile.
She was guessing he was in his forties—and he was the best-looking man she’d ever seen. He was gazing at her with eyes as green and serene as a pine forest.
“Would you happen to be the Rosetta Bender who writes the Budget posts for Promise Lodge?” he asked.
“I am!” Rosetta replied. “And these are my sisters, Christine Hershberger and Mattie Schwartz. The three of us—and Mattie’s fiancé, Preacher Amos—sold our farms and pooled our funds to start this place up last spring.”
“You have no idea how happy I am to be here.” The man removed his heavy coat and leaned cordially toward them. “I’m Monroe Burkholder. I was the bishop of my settlement in Illinois, but the district’s growing so large we’re reorganizing—not that I need to burden you with all the details,” he added apologetically. “Just from reading your weekly column in The Budget, I’ve felt compelled to come to Promise Lodge. See? I told you I’m strange! But I’ve followed God’s lead and here I am.”
Rosetta exchanged glances with her sisters, smiling widely. “You have no idea how happy we are that you’ve come, Bishop Monroe,” she murmured.
“And your timing is perfect,” Mattie insisted as she gestured toward the meeting room. “Nearly everyone’s still here, and we’ve just set out more cookies and coffee.”
“May I take your coat, Bishop Monroe?” Christine asked. In the subdued light of the lobby chandelier, her face took on a hopeful glow as she gazed up at their attractive guest.
Rosetta exchanged a quick glance with Mattie, unable to suppress a grin. “We’ll go tell everyone you’ve arrived, Bishop, and whenever you’re ready, Christine will be happy to introduce you around,” Rosetta said. “Before the evening’s over, we’ll find you a place to stay and you’ll have lots of new friends!”
“I’ll get a couple of our boys to tend your horse,” Mattie put in. “We’ve got plenty of room in the barn across the road.”
“Denki so much,” Monroe murmured. “I feel at home already—and Clyde’s ready for a gut rubdown and some feed after our day’s journey.”
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