An Amish Christmas Quilt (21 page)

C
HAPTER
5

Gid pulled to a stop in front of Dottie Schrock's white brick house. Last night's snow clouds had disappeared, and the sky looked as if someone had taken a paintbrush to it with cerulean blue paint. The winter air was crisp, like a Granny Smith apple, and he loved how it sliced against his face when he spurred the horse into a trot.

He hadn't warned Dottie he was coming this morning. She seemed like the kind of girl who wasn't fond of surprises, and that's why he'd decided to surprise her. He couldn't resist the way she wrinkled her cute nose when something flustered her.

As soon as he'd gotten Junior's letter last week, he'd been annoyed enough to come to Bonduel a day early and make sure Dottie knew he didn't appreciate her meddling in his life. But he hadn't counted on the difference two years had made. The last time he'd seen Dottie, she had been a skinny eighteen-year-old—one he only briefly interacted with at Onkel Joe's Christmas parties and one who was too young to be interesting to a grown man of twenty years. At least that how he had seen himself.

But the minute he'd laid eyes on her yesterday, he'd felt as unsteady as a leaky canoe on the lake during a thunderstorm. Before she had come to the door, he had been annoyed with her. He hadn't expected her to throw him entirely off balance with that crinkly nose thing she did.

It was very kind of Onkel Joe to let him borrow the sleigh. After last night, he wanted to see Dottie again in the worst way. He couldn't seem to keep from smiling when she was close. Plus, he wanted to find out if he had the power to befuddle her the way she had befuddled him.

He squinted in the bright sun as he jumped out of the sleigh and bounded up the porch steps to Dottie's front door.

Dottie's sister, probably twelve years old by now, answered the door. “Hey,” Gid said, taking off his hat and giving her one of his best smiles. “Diana? Is your name Diana?”

She smiled to reveal a mouth full of braces. “Hi, Gid. Dottie said you came to her party last night.”

“You remember me?”

“I remember. You're Junior and Ada's cousin.” She tilted her head to one side as she gazed at him. “You took Junior hunting for Bigfoot two years ago.”

The Bigfoot hunt. He'd never live that down. “
I
was snowshoeing. Junior was looking for Bigfoot.”

“He still goes out every weekend to search.”

Gid winced. “I know. I regret ever planting that seed in Junior's head.” Bigfoot and snipes. He'd never been able to convince his cousin they didn't exist.

“Dottie says Junior isn't the sharpest tool in the shed,” Diana said before clapping her hand over her mouth. “Don't tell anybody I said that. Dottie swore me to secrecy. She doesn't usually talk bad about Junior, even when he deserves it.”

Gid chuckled. Mostly, Junior was a teenage boy, and boys grew out of that eventually. Gid had. “Is Dottie home?”

“She says you lost every game at the party last night.”

Gid dropped his jaw in mock indignation. “I did not. Dottie wasn't keeping score correctly. In golf, the low score is the winner. By that standard, I won every game.”

“Ha ha,” Diana said as she walked away. “I'll get Dottie.”

“Thanks, Diana.”

“It's Eva.”

“What? I asked you—”

“I didn't want to hurt your feelings.”

He shook his head as she walked out of the room. Not making a good impression so far.

Diana, er, Eva came back with Dottie in tow. Her smile was like the sun peeking over the horizon, and Gid forgot to breathe for a second. Her hair was tied up in a blue bandanna, and a smudge of flour dusted that crinkly nose.

“Gid. What are you doing here?”

“I stole Onkel Joe's sleigh.”

Her eyebrows lifted half an inch, and a grin twitched at her lips. “Are you running from the police?”

“Okay, I didn't really steal it. I got his full permission. It's a wonderful-
gute
day for a sleigh ride yet.”

An attractive blush tinted her cheeks. “You want me to go on a ride with you?”

“The snow is perfect.”

She glanced at Eva, and her smile faded. “I'm sorry, Gid. It's Christmas Eve.”

“A perfect day for sledding.”

“I haven't stuffed the turkey, and I'm the only one who knows how to make stollen and
lebkuchen
.”

“I can make
lebkuchen
,” Eva said.

Dottie laid a hand on her sister's shoulder. “
Nae
, Eva. It has to be just right, remember? You don't know how to arrange the almonds the way Mamm likes them.”

Eva seemed to deflate before Gid's very eyes, but she didn't argue. He suspected it was a conversation they'd had many times.

Gid fingered the brim of his hat. “You
do
owe me a favor for saving your party last night. Erla Schmucker had a very
gute
time, and I let you win every game. And I did it all with a swollen toe.”

“You did not let me win, Gid Stutzman. You are simply a very bad hummer.”

“But I did put up with the humiliation of having to hum in front of everyone.”

Dottie thought about it for a moment, and her lips twitched at the memory. “
Jah
, you did.”

“Half an hour?” Gid said.

“I could boil the almonds while you're gone,” Eva offered. “I know how to boil almonds.”

“I can spare ten minutes,” Dottie said.

Gid raised an eyebrow. “Twenty-five.”

“Fifteen at the most.”

“I feel like an auctioneer,” Gid said. “I've got fifteen, who'll give me twenty?”

Dottie folded her arms. “Fifteen is my final offer.”

He slumped his shoulders in mock defeat. “That will get us to the end of your lane and back. You drive a hard bargain, Dottie Schrock, but I accept.”

She exploded into an irresistible smile that made Gid's heart thud wildly. Their gazes locked, and he couldn't look away from those stunning hazel eyes. He sure was glad Uncle Joe owned a sleigh.

Clearing her throat, Dottie broke eye contact and turned to Eva. “You can skin the almonds.”

“Yeah!” Eva said, doing a little jig.

“Pour boiling water over them and let them sit for two minutes. Only two.”

“I can do it, Dottie,” said Eva. “I will chop them so you won't have to do that when you get home.”

Dottie retrieved her coat from the hall closet. “
Nae
. I will chop. You skin.”

Eva's countenance fell slightly, but she obviously wasn't the type of girl to wallow in disappointment and was clearly excited to be allowed to help at all. “I'll do a really
gute
job.”

Dottie sprouted a doubtful smile. “I know you will. We want the
lebkuchen
to be just the way Mamm likes it. And”—she paused for a fraction of a second—“why don't you look at the recipe and get all the ingredients out of the cupboard and ready so that it will save me time when I return?” She must have noticed her sister's eagerness.

Eva's grin couldn't possible be any wider. “
Jah, jah
. I will do that. Do you want two bags of apricots or one?”

Gid took Dottie's coat and helped her into it. “I just want to be clear that all this talk of
lebkuchen
does not count against my fifteen minutes.”

Dottie's eyes sparkled. “Okay then. The timer starts now.”

C
HAPTER
6

Dottie gripped the side of the sleigh until her knuckles turned white. She'd forgotten that Gid liked to go fast. Two years ago, the last time Gid's family had come to Bonduel for Christmas, they'd all gone sledding at Beechy Hill, where Gid and Junior had built a four-foot-high snow jump. The two boys had taken that jump over and over again, and after a while, Dottie hadn't been able to watch. Their sleds had flown through the air for several feet and most often ended in a spectacular crash at the edge of the trees. Gid was fearless. That's why Junior tagged after him like a puppy whenever Gid came to town.

“Do you think you could slow down?” she squeaked over the sound of the runners cutting through the snow and the muted clip-clop of horse hooves on the frozen road.

Gid widened his eyes in feigned shock. “Slow down? It's only fun if you go fast. Just sit back, close your eyes, and feel the breeze on your face. Tourists pay good money for stuff like this.”

“I'm not a tourist.”

He glanced at her and smiled. “Will you still give me a tip?”

“Nae. You give very poor service.”

Shaking his head in amusement, he pulled up on the reins and slowed the horse to a walk. “Is that better?”

“Much.”

“You said I could only have fifteen minutes. I want to make the most of the time.”

“I'm sorry. It's just that my
mamm's mamm
made
lebkuchen
every Christmas. I think it will make Mamm really happy if we have
lebkuchen
tomorrow.”

He studied her face. “You're really anxious to make it special for her.”

“Last year, three days before Christmas, she had surgery. She was so sick, and Dat was busy taking care of her. We children took care of each other. Except for some cookies a neighbor delivered, we didn't celebrate Christmas at all. It's going to be different this year. I'm making stollen and
lebkuchen
, and I have a very special surprise waiting at Anna Helmuth's house. I'm going to pick it up this afternoon.”

“Anna, my
mammi
?”

“
Jah
, she and your cousin Beth are very
gute
at sewing.”

“My favorite thing about Christmas is being together with family and remembering the Christ child.”

She lowered her eyes. “Your parents are in Mexico, and I didn't even want you to come to my party. I'm sorry.”

He brushed aside her apology. “Dat needed nasal surgery and this was the only week available. I'll have more fun in Bonduel than I would in a hospital in Mexico over Christmas. Aunt Elsie and Uncle Joe take
gute
care of me, and Uncle Joe was kind enough to let me borrow his sleigh so I could be with a pretty girl on Christmas Eve morning.”

“Oh,” she teased. “Are you going to give her a sleigh ride too?”

“I only plan on taking one pretty girl for a ride today.” He winked at her and laughed. His bold gesture made her feel giddy. If she weren't on such a strict time schedule, his wink would have made her want to leap out of the sleigh and make a snow angel, just for the pure joy of it.

The way he looked at her made her blush all the way to the top of her head. It would be much safer to change the subject. She nudged a brown paper grocery bag at her feet. “What's in the bag?”

“I need to make a delivery to an old friend.”

“What kind of delivery?”

He smiled as if it were a great adventure. “He's only a few minutes from here. I wanted to take him a few groceries to tide him over for the holidays. Would you like to come?”

Dottie took a deep breath. She really, really should be getting back. She needed time to put those finishing touches on Mamm's Christmas quilt.

But the brisk wind felt so lovely against her cheeks, and the snow sparkled in the sun like a field of diamonds, and Gid Stutzman smiled at her as if she were the only girl in the whole world.

Gid waited patiently, his hands wrapped casually around the reins, his face turned halfway toward her.

“Okay,” she finally said.

He nodded and his lips quirked upward slightly as if he'd anticipated that if he were too happy about it, she'd change her mind.

“But it won't take very long, will it?”

“Only as long as you say.” Mischief glinted in his eyes, and he snapped the reins. “But since we're in a hurry, we'll have to go faster.”

She caught her breath as the horse sped to a quick trot, pulling them over the snow as if they were flying on a meadow of fluffy clouds. She gripped the side of the sleigh and sat up straight so her face could catch the wind. Exhilaration rendered her breathless. Maybe Gid's preference for speed wasn't so bad after all.

It seemed like they had just started moving fast, when Gid slowed his horse and turned down a snow-packed road. The horse trotted in the direction of an old farmhouse surrounded by a half-dozen bare and snarled oak trees. The exterior of the two-story house was half made of light brown bricks and half of peeling white siding. Icicles hung from the eaves over the porch, indicating several leaks in the rain gutters.

Gid tied the reins, grabbed the grocery bag from the floor, and smiled as if they were about to embark on a marvelous adventure. Dottie tried to push her uneasiness away. She wasn't altogether comfortable with the condition of the house or the property. What had Gid gotten her into?

Gid knocked on the screen door, which tilted slightly to the left, and they waited. When there was no answer, he knocked again, louder this time, and kept that smile in place.

The inside door creaked as if its hinges were two hundred years old. Dottie couldn't see well into the dark house, especially in the brightness of the snow outside, but she could make out an old man with sparse wisps of gray hair and a thin, weathered face behind the screen door.

“Go away,” he said, as if just voicing the words made him tired.

Gid nodded to Dottie reassuringly. “Lou, it's me, Gid Stutzman. Remember? I dropped by last summer a couple of times.”

“You're just like the rest of 'em. Leave me alone,” Lou said, squinting to see through the screen.

“This is my friend Dottie Schrock. We came by to wish you a merry Christmas.”

Lou paused briefly and slapped his hand against the screen door handle. The door popped open. “Well, come in then, if you have to,” he said, complaining about it.

Dottie decided she'd rather not, but Gid held the door open for her and she had no choice. It wouldn't look very neighborly to turn around and slink off the porch.

A wall of oppressive warmth and the smell of stale laundry accosted her as she walked into the room. Lou eyed her suspiciously before ambling across his living room and easing himself onto a threadbare brown sofa.

Gid nudged her forward, followed her into the house, and shut the door.

The scuffed wood floor was bare except for a small rug that sat directly underneath Lou's feet. Vertical blinds covered the bay window that faced the front of the house, but at least a third of them were either missing or broken. A brown upholstered chair with faded blue flowers matching the old sofa stood under the big window, and a massive upright piano seemed to lean against the wall opposite the bay window. Dust and grit covered every surface, especially the floor, which looked like it hadn't been swept in years.

“You might as well sit down,” Lou said, motioning to the chair. Gid plopped next to Lou on the sofa, and Dottie, grateful for the distance between them, sat in the chair.

Lou sat back and rubbed his hand down the side of his gaunt face. “What did you say your name was?”

“Gid Stutzman. And this is Dottie Schrock.”

Still frowning persistently, Lou concentrated on Gid's face. “I remember you. You're the Amish boy who brought me the apples.”

“Did you like them?”

Lou turned to Dottie and studied her carefully. “You brought a pretty girl with you this time.”

Gid's gaze flashed playfully in Dottie's direction. “We came to give you some Christmas groceries.”

This news seemed to make Lou very unhappy. He propped his elbows on his knees and laced his shaky fingers together. “Christmas,” he said, a lump of bitterness in his voice. “Nobody cares about that. They don't bother coming. They don't even call.” His voice cracked, and he looked as if he was about to lose his composure. His pain was so palpable, Dottie could almost hold it in her hands. “It doesn't matter anyway. They'd rather go to Florida.”

A deep line of worry appeared between Gid's brows. “Your son?”

The moment of vulnerability passed. Lou cleared his throat and squared his shoulders. “Can't blame 'em. I'd rather go to Florida too.”

“So you're not going to see your family for Christmas?” Dottie asked, hiding her disbelief. How could anybody let his father spend his holidays all alone?

“Joanne's in New Mexico and Brent's in Chicago. His kids wanted to do Disney World.”

Dottie's heart sank as she looked around the dirty, unloved room and imagined sitting here all alone night after night. She couldn't stand the thought.

She shot from the chair and snatched the grocery bag from Gid's arms. “That's why we came to make you Christmas dinner.”

Gid gaped at her as if she'd just folded all her napkins wrong on purpose.

Lou simply looked puzzled. “Christmas dinner?”

Gid had told her there were groceries in the bag. Hopefully she could turn the contents into an adequate meal. She probably couldn't make it fancy enough to be considered a Christmas dinner, but at least Lou might get something hot to eat and a little company. He was obviously starving for both.

Without waiting for Gid to respond, she marched into the small kitchen and found a place to deposit her grocery bag. After taking off her coat, she piled the dirty dishes from the counter into an already crowded sink and started pulling things out of the bag.

Gid joined her in the kitchen. She relished that look of uncertainty on his face. He was always so confident he knew everything. “You're going to cook him dinner?”

She nodded.

“I don't really want to remind you of this, but you don't have time.”

She pulled a package of chicken breasts out of the bag. “It doesn't matter if I don't have time. Nobody should be alone at Christmastime, not if I have anything to say about it.”

A smile formed around the edges of his eyes. “Okay.”

Pulling a jar out of the bag, she tried to ignore the way his piercing gaze made her heart soar like a sled going over a ten-foot snow jump. “Really, Gid? Green olives?”

Lou hobbled into the kitchen. “We had green olives for breakfast, lunch, and dinner when I was stationed in Germany. They're candy to me.”

She rolled her eyes when Gid smugly folded his arms across his chest and winked at her. “I know my condiments.”

She took a bag of potato chips and a jar of peanut butter from the bag, plus a loaf of bread, four cans of soup, a bag of apples, and a bar of cheddar cheese.

Gid watched her reaction as she pulled food out of the bag. “I wish you would have consulted me first,” she said, earning an indignant smirk from Gid, “but I think I can work with this. Lou, can I peek in your fridge?”

“And the cupboards too, if you want.” His tone still sounded as if her cooking in his kitchen was a huge imposition in his life, but Dottie could tell by the softening of the lines around his mouth and the way he tucked his hands into his pockets, that he found their visit an immense comfort.

Gute.
Hopefully she could bring a little Christmas cheer where cheer was in short supply.

“First,” she said, rummaging through his cupboards for a clean bowl—a clean anything, “let's have an appetizer.” She found a coffee mug in one of the bottom cupboards, popped open the bottle of olives, and poured the olives into the mug. “Sit at the table, and we can visit while I make a casserole.”

Gid pulled out a chair for Lou and sat next to him. There was barely room on the table for the mug, as it was covered with an eight-inch pile of bills and letters and other papers that spread out over the entire surface of the table. Did all these need to be paid? And would Lou be offended if she asked him to move the stack so they'd have a place to eat?

Gid saved her the trouble. “Can we put these the living room?” he asked, laying his hand on the stack.

“I save 'em for shredding,” Lou said, popping an olive into his mouth. “Brent says I'll get my identity stolen.”

“Do you have a shredder?”

“That's the trouble. It's down in the basement. I haven't done stairs for months.”

Gid smiled. “If you want me to get it, I'll help you shred everything. We can clear off the table one sheet of paper at a time.”

Lou wrinkled his brow. “Well now. You don't want to do that,” he said, as if he really wanted someone to clear the pile away for him, but didn't want to impose.

“Why not?”

“It's Christmas Eve.”

Gid stood up. “It sounds like a fun Christmas Eve activity to me. I'm Amish. I never get to play with a shredder.”

Lou's expression could have passed for a smile. “Well then. Go and get it. I haven't eaten at this table for months.”

“It will be my Christmas present,” Gid said.

While Gid and Lou sat at the table shredding documents, Dottie searched through the cupboards until she'd salvaged enough supplies to throw together a fairly decent chicken casserole. She cut up three breasts of chicken and laid them in the bottom of the pan, then mixed some cream of mushroom soup and rice she'd found in the cupboard and poured them over the top. She layered grated cheese over that and finished with a handful of crushed potato chips.