An Amish Christmas Quilt (15 page)

And Luke found himself obeying with unshed tears in his eyes for his girl....

C
HAPTER
9

John Beider was dressing to go out that morning to look for Matthew. The storm had gone, leaving a dazzling display of white against the rising dawn of a blue sky. He looked up from tying his boots when a loud knock sounded at the back kitchen door.

His heart dropped when he thought it might be news of Matthew. Ellie hurried past him to open the door and an odd, bundled trio stepped into the kitchen. Scarves and hats came off and John stood with one boot in his hand to stare at Bishop Umble, Matthew, and finally . . . Luke Lapp.

John cleared his throat, focusing on his
sohn
. “Matthew, we've been worried. . . .” John, usually never at a loss for words, trailed off in uncertainty.

“I'm fine, Daed.” But Matthew seemed too serious, almost subdued, and John faced the bishop, ignoring Luke Lapp.

“What's the matter here?” John asked as Ellie slipped past him to gather coffee cups.

“Uh, Frau Beider,” the bishop began. “There's no need for coffee. Perhaps if you might give us men a few moments alone.”

John saw Ellie nod wordlessly and slip into the bedroom, pulling a reluctant Simon from the breakfast table with her.

“Well?” John asked again when the bedroom door had been closed.

“I found your
buwe
here in—in a bed with my daughter.”

In one distant part of his mind, John heard the old cadence of his one-time friend's voice and knew it was something he'd recognize for all his days, but another area of his brain caught the actual words and he bristled at the accusation.

“What's that you say?”

“We were bundling, Daed. That was all.” John saw Matthew give Luke a direct gaze, and he recognized the tiredness in his
sohn
's voice, as if he'd pled the same words many times.

“Of course that was all, Matthew. As you say,” John snapped as he dropped his boot and straightened his back.

“The
buwe
was naked. Bundling is no longer practiced and is to be done fully clothed anyway. He has dishonored my girl,” Luke bit out.

Bishop Umble raised a placating hand when John took a step forward. “Now, Luke Lapp, show reason. Matthew could not have remained in freezing clothing and Grossmuder May gave her approval to the situation.”

“Grossmuder May?” John asked. “Why were you up there?”

“He's been secretly courting Laurel for months. But he'll marry her today, so help me.” Luke looked like he wanted to shake Matthew, and John felt his ire rise higher.

“Matthew will marry whom he chooses.”

“Daed, I choose Laurel. I love her. I always have.” Matthew spoke earnestly.

Luke Lapp snorted as if in disbelief and John clenched his fists. “Look,
Deacon
Lapp, if you have something to say about my
buwe
, then say it out. Right now!”

“He's dishonorable.”

“Ha! But he's decent enough to be willing to give his life away to a daughter of yours when he could choose from any of—”

Bishop Umble shook his head and laid his aged hands on the shoulders of the two men, who'd inched fighting close. “Enough. We've heard Matthew. He loves Laurel. The two even came to see me to find a way to make their fathers see reason. But you both choose pride and spite.... You both choose poorly.”

John swung away, not wanting to listen when his anger was so intense. He grabbed his
sohn's
hand. “You do not have to marry, Matthew.”

“He does and he will,” Luke growled. “The wedding is set for two o'clock today at my home. I expect all to be put to right when Derr Herr gives his blessing to this unholy union.” He turned with a final sweeping glare and stomped out the door.

Bishop Umble paused. “All will be well,
sohn
.” He patted Matthew's shoulder and nodded at John. “Think, John Beider. Think . . .”

Then the old man left and closed the door gently behind him.

John wordlessly turned to his
sohn
and caught him close. Matthew didn't resist, and John wished fervently that he could make things right for his
buwe
, the way he had when Matthew had been a
boppli
, but Matt was a man now—it was as simple as that. A man and soon to be wed to his enemy's daughter. And despite the bishop's admonition, it was more than John could stand to think about....

 

Laurel felt bedraggled by the hike down the mountain, and she clutched the Christmas-roses quilt in front of her like a shield as she entered the kitchen and met Aenti June's searching gaze.

There seemed little point in speaking anything less than the truth, so Laurel dropped down at the kitchen table, put her arm around Lucy, and managed a tired smile. “Well, I'm to marry Matthew Beider this afternoon at two o'clock.”

For once, Aenti June appeared nonplussed, and Laurel waited while Lucy gave a happy squeal. “So, you told Dat? And he said
jah
?”

“Something like that, Lucy. Wherever did you get the kitten?” Laurel reached her hand out from under the quilt to pet the small creature.

Lucy gave her a less-than-obvious wink. “From the barn last night. I thought we could maybe . . . share her. I named her Friend.”

“That's nice.”

Aenti June exploded. “Wait a moment....
What
did you say?”

Laurel looked wearily at her
aenti
. She felt awful about the way her
fater's
face had been set as they'd left the cabin—in despair, anger, sadness—all disappointment in her. It was not the way she wanted to start a life with Matthew.

“I'm marrying Matthew Beider. Dat found us together at Grossmuder May's. . . .”

Aenti June blustered. “Do you want to marry this
buwe
?”

“ 'Course she does,” Lucy answered stoutly. “She's been seeing him forever and I know he loves her.... He's even her
frieeend
,” the child finished, emphasizing her last word and looking down at the kitten.

Laurel sighed. “It's true. I love him dearly, but Fater . . .”

Aenti June seemed to rally. “Your
fater
will accept it in time, but right now, it's nearly eight a.m. and you're telling me we're having a wedding in six hours? Why, we've got to get this place cleaned and I need to make a cake at least. And you need a blue dress!”

“I think it will be a very quiet wedding,” Laurel pointed out. “No guests but the Beiders and the bishop and his
frau
, maybe.”

“Huh! Only the Beiders . . . do you think I'd have those people in this
haus
without it looking just so? Now, you go to your room and get your work dress on. We'll save time for you to bathe and do up your hair afresh. And go through your hope chest to find what you'll be taking.”

Aenti June stopped still after she spoke, and Laurel realized the full import of her words.
What I'll be taking . . . away. To live at the Beiders', where my fater is hated. Why have I never thought beyond the wedding to the tradition of the bride going to the groom's home to live until a new home can be made?

Something of what she was thinking must have shown in her face because Lucy tugged hard on her arm. “Where are you going, Laurel? To Matthew's? But I'll miss you,” the little girl whimpered, and Laurel felt like crying herself at the suddenness of everything.

Aenti June dabbed at her eyes with her apron and gave an enormous sniff; then she reached to pat Laurel's hand. “Mind, now, Lucy, don't upset your sister on her wedding day. You'll see her—we'll see her, anytime we like.”

Anytime
. . . Laurel repeated in her mind, praying that all might go well.

Matthew winced as he tightened his boot strings, and Simon must have caught his expression.

“What's wrong with your feet?”

“Nearly frostbitten—they're still sore a bit.”

Simon huffed. “Is a girl really worth all this trouble?”

Matthew grinned despite his tiredness. “You'll see one day, little
bruder
. Now bundle up. We're going to the Kauffmanns' store.”

“What for?”

“Wedding coats. I expect you to stand up with me.”

“Me? Really?” Simon pushed his glasses farther up on the bridge of his nose and smiled from ear to ear.

“
Jah
, you. Who else would I have but my
bruder
?”

“Whoo-ee!”

“Simon Beider,” his mother admonished from the doorway. “Stop screaming and step out for a minute, will you? I want to talk with Matthew alone.”

Simon bounced off the bed. “All right. I'll go get my scarf and stuff.”

Matthew studied his mother's face when his
bruder
had gone. “I'm sorry, Mamm,” he said finally. “I didn't expect things to turn out like this.”

“How did you expect them to turn out?” Her voice was curious. “Were you simply going to allow the deacon to announce the impending marriage after a service and surprise us? Shame us because you didn't trust us enough to let us know the girl you love?”

Matthew hung his head and his mother came and sat down next to him on the bed. “Matthew, I don't want to hurt you, but it is to be a mother's joy to help with the planning and preparations for a
sohn
's marriage.”

His head began to ache and he ran his hands through his dark hair. “Mamm, it was never you. . . . It's Dat. I thought—with the feuding—well, that I'd never gain his blessing. I didn't know what to do.”

His mother was silent for a few very long, uncomfortable moments. Then she slapped her hands down on her knees. “Well, we'd best get moving. Since you normally sleep with Simon, I'll air out the guest room for you and Laurel. I know you'll be anxious to have a home of your own
kumme
spring, but we'll get along all right with Derr Herr's help.”

“
Danki,
Mamm. I love you so much.” He leaned over and gave her a quick
buss
on the cheek. She reached to pat his face, then slipped her hand down to lay some money in his palm.

“I want you to take this, Matthew. I know you have your own savings, but I'd like to help with the coats and the fast tailoring Ben Kauffmann's going to have to do.”

“Mamm, I can't . . . really.”

She rose to her feet. “You can and you will. Now get a move on. You've only a few hours.”

Matthew smiled and nodded, then watched her bustle from the room. He closed his eyes and prayed silently.
Maybe things will go better than I expect....

C
HAPTER
10

Luke plunged through the snow at the Amish cemetery, discovering that the simple white headstones were nearly covered by the past storm. He counted stone tops as he walked, four over from the large pine tree that gave such pretty shade in the summer, and two rows back. He dropped to his knees in front of the stone, and dug with his dark gloved hands to clear the small space. There was snow, then wet leaves, then grass in wilted disarray. He eased his hat off, careless of the cold, and stared at his wife's name, carved in plain letters. He knew the
Englisch
put flowers on their loved ones' graves, even plastic things in the winter, but it was not his community's way. Yet he wished it was today.... He wanted to bring something to Meg besides his troubles, not that he was really sure if she heard him. He knew he should talk to Derr Herr alone, but simply voicing his thoughts out loud at Meg's grave gave him comfort that he did not believe
Gott
would withhold from him.

He swiped his arm across his eyes, feeling at ease to cry here, as he had many times in the past. “Well, Meg, our girl's getting married today—to John Beider's
buwe
. . . . I never would listen to you when you tried to reason with me about John. I'm sorry for that. It seems so much easier to keep on with the anger—and the hurt. And Laurel . . .” His voice broke as he recalled the scene in the bedroom cabin. “Laurel—will do the right thing, but I—I'll miss her about the place. Like you, sweetheart . . . like I miss you.” He lurched to his feet and fished out a red handkerchief and blew his nose and dried his face, then turned with resolve toward home.

 

Laurel knelt beside the large carved cedar chest and eased open the lid. Lucy was next to her and the little girl clapped her hands as though a great masterpiece were being unveiled. In truth, Laurel had always kept her hope chest as a private thing, and she found the rich, aromatic scent of the wood to be calming as she prepared to share her hopes with Lucy.

On top were several intricately crocheted white doilies in tissue paper. An
Amisch haus
was plain in decoration, but doilies were acceptable on chair backs and end tables.

“Oooh, they look like snowflakes,” Lucy cooed. “However did you learn the patterns?”

Laurel smiled as she remembered. “I found one in a newspaper from Kauffmann's store and Aenti June taught me another. I suppose I'll have to teach you sometime soon.”

Lucy wriggled in excitement, clutching the flannel-filled box and the kitten closer.

Next, there was a beautiful nine-patch quilt that Laurel had worked the year she was fourteen. Although the pattern was a simple one, the intricate piecing of colors and fabrics was a cheerful sight in the bright morning light. “Mommli helped me with some of this,” Laurel said softly, remembering her mother's industrious, care-worn hands and feeling a wave of loneliness. She laid the quilt aside and drew out two tablecloths, both snowy-white linen and edged with pale blue embroidery. Then came fine linen napkins, tied in bundles of four with light blue satin ribbon.

“
Ach
, what happened here?” Lucy's little fingers touched the brown mark of a very obvious iron burn on one of the napkins.

Laurel laughed. “I was twelve and noticed a starling outside the kitchen window while I ironed. Its song was so beautifully clear through the open window, and Mamm said I should keep the napkin, not to recall my poor ironing but to remember the starling. And I still do.”

“Mommli was smart,” Lucy said wistfully. “I wish I knew her better.”

Laurel felt her eyes swim with tears. “Oh, Lucy, I know. I want her to be here now today, too. But I'm glad that we have each other.”

“And Friend.” Lucy stroked the kitten with tenderness, and Laurel had to smile through her tears.

“
Jah
, and Friend.”

“What's next?” Lucy asked, quicksilver in her curiosity.

“A box of recipe cards.” Laurel opened the brown box with the faint outline of two strawberries on it and flipped through the cards, each done with the careful penmanship of a different hand.

“But you can cook
gut
,” Lucy protested.

Laurel shook her head. “It's not so much the recipe as it is remembering each woman's handwriting and what she loved to make and share. I expect it'll make me feel less alone when we have our own
haus
and I'm cooking for Matthew.”

Lucy smiled with broad innocence. “You mean before the
kinner kumme
. . . . Then I'll be Aenti Lucy.”

Laurel couldn't help the blush that stained her cheeks and hurriedly lifted the pillowcases embroidered with Bible verses out of the chest. The white cases were large enough to fit the giant feather pillows common on the mountain and were also a keen reminder to trust Derr Herr even during sleep.

Next came a tightly woven berry basket. “This was from Alice King. She passed on before you were born. But when I was little, I was permitted to go and watch Alice weave her baskets. She said I sat as still as a baby rabbit and gave me this as a gift. It's one of the first things I put in my chest.”

“
Ach
, will Daed make me a hope chest?” Lucy asked, gently fingering the intricate weaving on the shaved wood basket.

Laurel felt her heart rise with sudden impulsive inspiration. “He won't have to, sweetling. I'm giving you this one. It was Mamm's and should rightfully go to you.”

Lucy's cherubic mouth froze in a perfect O and Laurel laughed in delight.
“Kumme
on, we'll slide it onto your side of the bedroom.”

Lucy set the kitten box carefully aside and pushed with all her might as Laurel slid the bulk of the weight. It was something
gut
to do that kept her mind from thinking that her new bedroom would be at the Beiders' this
nacht
.

 

Matthew groaned silently when he saw Bishop Umble talking as men from the mountain gathered around the stove in Ben Kauffmann's store.

“Right on the stroke of two, today . . .” Matthew heard the bishop gently gossip and knew he was talking about the rushed wedding.
Men gossip more than the women on this mountain
, Matthew considered, plastering a smile on his face and squaring his shoulders. Although it was the way of things that everyone knew everybody else's business, he wasn't about to be caught looking sheepish about the whole situation.
After all, I'm marrying the girl of my dreams....

Bolstered by his thoughts, he stepped nearer to the warm stove and let his gaze swing around the faces of those gathered. He recognized Professor Jude Lyons, the
Englischer
who'd recently married a mountain girl and announced his desire to join the
Amisch
community. Matthew thought that Jude could probably understand things a bit from his perspective as the professor had himself been pushed into marriage by an angry father.

Matthew was grateful for the professor's welcoming smile while many others merely hushed up and looked uncomfortable for a minute.

The bishop cleared his throat when Matthew arched an eyebrow at him. “
Ach
, Matthew and Simon . . . I was explaining your situation and I, um, imagine you're here to see Ben about some wedding clothing?”

“
Jah
,” Matthew returned drily. “And, since it's no surprise that the wedding's today, we'll need to make do with what the store's got.” He looked to Ben Kauffmann and found the tall
Amischer
's eyes to be bright and kind.

“Kumme
, Matthew and Simon, let's see what I've got ready made in the back.” Ben shouldered a path through the small crowd, and Matthew followed in relief, ignoring the teasing whispers behind him.

“Ignore everyone, Matt,” Ben advised when they'd reached a small section of premade clothing. “You'd get teased whether you had two months or two hours to prepare—you know that.”

“I know.” Matthew smiled, feeling himself relax. He glanced at Simon, who grinned back, and soon they were attired in black wedding coats with long tails that covered the seats of their black pants. Simple white shirts completed the outfits.

Ben walked around them both, making small pulling adjustments here and there. “Hmm . . . some hemming on Simon's sleeves and I think we'll be
gut
. It'll only take me half an hour or so. Why not go in through to the
haus
and visit Grossdaddi? He's been down with a bad cold. But remember that he forgets sometimes—talks like he's in the past and all that.”

Matthew entered the small side door that led to the main
haus
, grateful that Ben hadn't suggested they go back and wait around the stove.

Matthew and Simon sat down near the frail
auld
man bundled on the couch near a bright window. The gentle hum of the Kauffmann women's voices could be heard from somewhere deeper in the house.

Matthew leaned towards the couch. “Hiya, sir.”

Smucker Kauffmann turned his gray head. “
Ach
, who's there?”

“John Beider's
sohns
—Matthew and Simon.”

“John Beider—John Beider. Angry young man.”

Matthew looked at Simon and shrugged, unsure of what to say.

Smucker Kauffmann stared at them without appearing to see them. “Always that gun. Hounding me day and
nacht
. . . let me be.”

Matthew leaned back in his chair, puzzling over the elder's words about his
fater. Could Smucker know something about the feud between my
daed
and Laurel's
fater
? And what gun? As far as I know, Daed hasn't hunted since before I was born. . . .

Smucker drew a sighing breath. “John Beider and Luke Lapp, I've sold you
buwes
more licorice today than a body could know what to do with . . . going to rot your teeth, both of you!
Ach
, no laughing at your elders!”

The
auld
man's voice rose and Ben's wife bustled into the room, stopping short when she saw Matthew and Simon. “Hiya,
buwes
. Is Grossdaddi having one of his remembering spells? Please don't let him disturb you.”

“Uh—” Matthew got to his feet. “
Nee,
Frau Kauffmann—we are the ones who do not wish to disturb him. We'll head back out into the shop.”

She nodded with a pleasant smile, and Matthew nearly tripped over Simon in his haste to leave the room.

“Did you hear that?” Matthew hissed. “Daed and Luke Lapp were friends. The bishop told me that, but I couldn't picture it.”

Simon shrugged. “It's a mystery, for sure.”

“Jah
, a mystery that might be solved and make my married life with in-laws a whole lot easier. . . .”