An Amish Country Christmas (7 page)

Chapter Seven

As they followed the crowd into the Cedar Creek schoolhouse, Bram held tightly to
Mary’s sturdy hand. Back home in Willow Ridge, his family and all the folks in town
would be squeezing into a one-room building very much like this one for the annual
Christmas program the scholars put on—not that his mind was on recitations about the
Christ child. His happiness had a keen edge to it, even after a day of mucking out
stalls and scrubbing water troughs. Mary’s laughter still rang in his mind from when
they’d been horsing around a bit, tossing more clean straw at each other than into
the stalls, while the horses had looked on with their ears pricked up.

Oh, but this redhead was keeping him in suspense! He couldn’t wait to get her into
the courting buggy again, to disappear into the night with the Christmas lights aglow
and Mary snuggled against him. She had seemed more spirited today, and Bram was a
little surprised that she hadn’t been stewing over what Uncle Abe had said last night.
He’d thought of ways to comfort her—to convince her he deserved another chance—but
then again, life was too short to spend their
rumspringa
fearing the hellfire and damnation the preachers promised to those who turned their
backs on the Old Order church.

“There’s James Graber,” he murmured, waving across the room.

As the carriage maker returned his smile, Mary said, “
Jah
, and that gal beside him is Abby Lambright. We’re thinking they’ll tie the knot just
any day now. High time, too!”

Bram recalled the pretty woman beside James as the one he’d seen sewing in the loft
of the mercantile yesterday. He squeezed Mary’s hand, thinking how happy James looked
. . . how settled and contented. Would he feel that way someday? Maybe with Mary Coblentz?

Waaaay too soon to be thinking about that
, his thoughts teased. Yet, considering all the girls he’d dated, he couldn’t think
that he would’ve
enjoyed
mucking out stalls with any of them. While Mary hadn’t succumbed to his hints about
getting cozy in the loft where no one would see them, she had sent him plenty of signals
that she was eager to ride with him tonight after the program. Considering how he’d
figured her for more of the cooking and sewing type, she had kept up with him every
step of the way as they’d shoveled manure, pitched straw for the floors, and hauled
fresh hay bales to the stalls.

As though she could read his thoughts, Mary gazed up at him. “Too bad there’s such
a crowd that we’ll have to stand in back, all jammed against each other,” she teased.

“
Jah
, I’ll be hatin’ every minute of this.” Bram slipped behind her, allowing Mary to
lean back against him as the crowd got quiet. Teacher Frieda motioned to the youngest
children, who took their places on the little stage that would make them easier to
see this evening. They gave a cheerful welcome and then recited a short poem about
Baby Jesus before inviting everyone to sing “Away in a Manger” with them. It was all
Bram could do not to nuzzle Mary’s ear as he delighted in her sweet singing voice
and a minty essence he hadn’t noticed before, but her
mamm
and
dat
were standing nearby, just on the other side of Nate and Martha.

Then a group of middle-grade kids recited their rendition of the Christmas story,
standing with solemn, nervous faces and their hands at their sides as they spoke in
unison. Bram could remember facing the crowd at that age, wishing the floor would
swallow him. He’d been the only boy in his class of five, and try as he might, the
words to songs and poems he was to learn went in one ear and out the other no matter
how much his
mamm
and the older girls at school had worked with him.

Nowadays, of course, he had figured out that girls didn’t give a hoot about recitations.
When he stepped into a sale barn and began his auctioneer chant, he could smile out
into the crowd and coax the bids higher and higher by pausing at just the right times—gazing
into the bidders’ eyes until they bought horses, Amish-made quilts, antiques, or whatever
was for sale that day. Playing a crowd was a game to him now, a challenge he loved
. . . just as Mary was proving to be. As she shifted against him, Bram closed his
eyes, wishing the scholars would speak faster.

Up through the grades the presentations went, sometimes combining a class or two for
a skit, until finally Jacob and Joanna rose for their poem. Joanna stood with her
hands clasped in front of her, resembling a red-haired angel as she spoke her stanzas,
while her twin brother looked ready to bolt. But they reached the end without a hitch,
and for that Bram felt encouraged. He’d worked with them, after all.

When Mary gazed up at him with mischief twinkling in her blue eyes, however, Bram’s
thoughts took a different direction. Silently she gripped his hand and led him between
the folks standing in the very back of the room. The audience was watching up front,
where more kids were preparing to reenact the birth of Jesus in the manger. As they
slipped out into the brisk night air, Bram let out the chuckle he’d been suppressing.

“Well,
this
is different,” he teased. “Just couldn’t wait any longer?” He slipped an arm around
Mary’s shoulders and kissed her.

“Too warm in there,” she whispered. “Too many people, to my way of thinking.”

“I like your way of thinking, Mary.” Was it his imagination, or did her blue eyes
seem more intense tonight as she looked at him? Her face glowed in the moonlight.
She had seemed less chatty today, yet bolder and readier to
play
, as though last night’s incident with Uncle Abe was long forgotten. “Let’s hook up
those Christmas lights and get ourselves along, shall we?”

“Let’s do it,” she agreed.

Bram blinked. He sensed Mary had made that remark in total innocence, yet her tone
seemed . . . more knowing than he’d expected. He and other fellows who worked among
English often picked up on phrases more sheltered Plain kids weren’t aware of, so
he didn’t quiz her about it. He did, however, return her grins and kisses as Felix
trotted along the snow-packed back roads.

“Are ya happy, Mary?” he whispered as he pulled in behind a windbreak of huge evergreens.
A nice private spot just off the road, where they’d be out of the breeze and out of
sight to passers-by. He put on the brake and pulled the quilt she’d brought more closely
around them.

Her sly smile teased at him. “
Jah
, Bram, I’m having a real
gut
time,” she replied before scooting closer for a playful kiss. “Glad to be turning
eighteen tomorrow, and glad you’re here to help me celebrate.”

“Let me know if you get cold,” he hinted, his mind exploring the possibilities of
other stables and private places they might hide away. He did
not
want them to be interrupted, now that Mary had recovered from their run-in with Uncle
Abe.

“I don’t think that’s going to happen tonight, Bram.”

Once again her response struck him as . . . brassy. Was this the same Mary who had
bemoaned her ruined reputation last night? As he pulled her close for a longer, more
serious kiss, however, Bram set aside his misgivings . . . forgot all about it being
a cold winter’s night . . .

 

 

Nate bit back a grin as Martha gripped his hand. The scholars had finished their reenactment
of Jesus’ birth, so now all of the kids were moving to the stage for a final carol
sing with their families and guests—and the girl beside him was nodding toward the
door with a purposeful smile. He wasn’t surprised that she wanted to skip out early,
the way her twin had, and he didn’t balk. Now was his chance to build upon the rapport
they’d reestablished today, and to prove that he wasn’t a stick in the mud just because
he’d joined the church already. And it was a chance to let go of Roberta Hershberger’s
betrayal of his affection once and for all.

“Had enough of Christmas tradition for one night?” he teased as they strode toward
his sleigh. Clyde whickered and stomped his big feet in greeting as Nate boosted Martha
into the seat and then got in on the other side.

“Always nice to see the program the kids have been working so hard on,” Martha replied
pertly. “And didn’t Jacob and Joanna do a really
gut
job on their piece?”

“They did.” He clapped the reins lightly across his Clydesdale’s back. “Geddap, Clyde.”

“But once I got Jacob through it—I was mouthing the words along with him while he
watched me, you know,” she added with a chuckle, “why, I felt like my job here was
finished. I’ve got a guest to entertain.”

Hmm. Martha didn’t seem all that caught up in the kids’ recitations when we were coaching
them
, Nate thought as he pulled onto the county highway. But her improved mood was a welcome
change from the way their ride had gone last night, so he decided to remain open to
whim, to enjoy himself with this pretty redhead. Martha had helped him stack the firewood
he’d cut this morning, and as they had filled the built-in bin beside the fireplace,
they’d chatted and laughed.

She had baked special breakfast buns with a sweet glaze for Christmas morning, and
had insisted he take a break and try one, along with a turtle brownie and a fabulous
frosted cookie that had a piece of mint candy baked into its center. He hadn’t expected
Martha to enjoy baking so much, considering how he’d met her in the horse feed aisle
of the mercantile. But what man didn’t appreciate good things from the kitchen?

“I’m still recalling how
gut
those cookies were this morning,” Nate remarked as Martha scooted closer to him.

“Oh, and we’ve got plenty more where those came from,” she replied. “With Christmas
being our birthday, we have all the usual goodies and Mamma makes us a chocolate coconut
cake, too. Looks like a regular pan of chocolate cake until you cut it and see the
yummy coconut filling in the middle! But then . . . I’m hoping to enjoy another kind
of sweetness now that I’m turning eighteen,” she added quietly.

When Nate glanced down at her, Martha’s eyes were all a-sparkle and her cheeks glowed
like roses in the moonlight. He guided Clyde onto the Nissley’s Ridge road and stopped
the sleigh. Here, it felt like they were on top of the world, surrounded by flawless
fields of snow in the pale blue twilight, beneath a velvet canopy studded with stars.
Not another soul was in sight. The wind whispered secrets in the silence.

“Might be a little early, but I want to be the first to wish you a happy birthday,
Martha,” he murmured as he reached for her.

With the slightest twitch of her lips, Martha let her head fall back against his arm.
Gone was the insistence, the pushiness she’d kissed him with before she lost her patience
last night.

“Mmmm . . .” escaped her. Then, when Nate kissed her again, she opened her mouth to
let him explore.

What slow, sweet affection was this? Nate took his time sampling her, nuzzling her
cheek before dipping in for another taste of her lips. It was . . . almost like he
was kissing a different girl. He kept waiting for Martha to catch fire and press her
mouth to his with that same impetuous insistence that had given him a lot to think
about last night—that feistiness he’d been gearing up for all day. But even when he
deepened his kisses, she seemed content to receive rather than to give back.

When they started off again, Martha sighed and snuggled against him as he put an arm
around her. With the jingle of the sleigh bells as an accompaniment, they exchanged
an occasional comment . . . more kisses as the mood struck them. Nate was enjoying
their relaxed affection, but it wasn’t nearly as exciting as having Martha come at
him as though she couldn’t stop.

“I’m sorry I got so huffy last night, Nate,” she murmured. “Don’t know what came over
me, and I’m glad we’ve gotten past that.
Denki
for giving me this chance to make up for it.”

Nate blinked. Rather than answer her, he listened to his instincts. “Hope you don’t
mind if we head on back to the house,” he said quietly. “It’s been a while since I
chopped so much wood and I’m starting to droop.”

“You worked hard today,” she agreed. “Mamma was pleased with how you carried all those
big roasting pans and so many jars of food up from the cellar, too.”

“Happy to help.”

When they got to the Coblentz home, he was glad the rest of the family had already
gone to bed in preparation for an early morning of chores and preparing the big Christmas
meal. Nate kissed his date goodnight and excused himself to brush and feed Clyde.
He stalled in the barn for a while, waiting for Bram, but finally went inside and
slipped up to their room.

What was missing? Why did he feel so let down, even though this evening’s ride had
been a huge success compared to last night’s? It seemed as though he’d been settling
for an unfrosted sugar cookie instead of exhilarating in—

Peppermint!
Martha had reeked of it—had chewed her gum with the same energy she lavished on everything
she did, but he hadn’t seen or smelled any sign of gum all day. And as Nate replayed
his date’s interest in the twins’ recitation . . . the way she had baked sweet rolls
and brownies as though she lived in the kitchen—and then indulged him with samples
. . . the passive way she had allowed him to kiss her . . .

Well, all these little differences could mean only one thing.

He was still awake when his younger brother came in, whistling under his breath as
though he’d had the time of his life. Nate lit the lantern on the bedside table and
crooked his finger for Bram to come to his bunk.

“Now what?” his brother whispered, searching his face. “Don’t tell me you struck out
two nights in a row.”