Katie's Choice (33 page)

“You’re only seventeen.”

John Paul continued. “It is not uncommon for Amish to get married young.”

Zane couldn’t imagine himself married at such a young age. He’d been hopelessly immature as a teen. But the Amish were different. John Paul, for all his fun-loving attitude, was a much more mature young man than Zane had ever been. Amish youth took on responsibilities, helped in the community, and did much more in any given day than most English kids in a week. It made them strong, steady, and dependable. Perfect spouse material. Still, there was no sense in rushing it. “I take it you’re not ready to get married.”

He shrugged. “I know I’m goin’ to join the church, but I’m enjoyin’ the
Englisch
world. I love goin’ to movies and listenin’ to rock and roll.”

Some of the same things Zane would miss if he stayed. He pushed those thoughts away. Staying was not an option.

“I like goin’ to work outside the farm.”

“If you join the church, will you have to give up your job?”

“
Jah
. I won’t have a way to get there. It’s too far to walk or take the horse and buggy. I’d have to give up my car, and the job would follow. I’m afraid that if I give in to her demands that I’ll regret it always. I love Bethany. I have since we were in school, but I don’t want our marriage tainted by unreasonable demands.”

Zane thrust his hands into his coat pockets. “Are you asking for my advice?”

“
Nay
. I know that I have to enjoy my
rumspringa
, that this is what the time is set aside for.”

“If she loves you, she’ll wait. Don’t you think?” As he said the words, his mind flashed back to the night before. Katie Rose had never married, even though Samuel Beachy had been gone for six long years. Had she been waiting, or had this been just the way things turned out, like she said? Zane couldn’t shake the feeling that love had its hand in Katie Rose’s choice not to marry someone else. He sighed. Samuel Beachy’s return was for the best.

“
Jah. Weibs leit
.”

He said the word in
Deutsch
, but Zane understood the tone perfectly.
Women
.

The smell of coffee greeted them as they stepped into the house. There were no decorations like all in the English world. No red and green wreaths, no Christmas tree. Not even a stack of presents. Zane had all his wrapped and hidden under his bed upstairs.

Annie was at the stove flipping bacon like a short-order cook. Ruth sat at the table, a coffee mug in front of her, as she sliced oranges to go with their breakfast.

Zane and John Paul hung their hats and coats on the pegs just inside the door.

“
Shayna Grischtdaag
,” Annie called.

“
Shayna Grischtdaag
,” they echoed. Nice Christmas.

“Breakfast will be ready shortly,” Ruth added. “Go on and get washed. Everyone will be here in a while, and we’ll exchange our presents then.”

John Paul poured himself a cup of coffee and joined his mother at the table.

Zane couldn’t account for his excitement. He felt like a kid, knowing that he’d get to see Katie Rose again. He also couldn’t wait to give everyone the gifts he’d bought on his first ever Christmas shopping spree.

He bounded up the stairs and knelt down by his bed, reaching underneath where he had stored the presents and coming up with . . . nothing. Well, almost nothing. There was an envelope with his name printed on the outside in carefully formed letters.

Zane opened the note.

Dear Zane—

I had to move the presents. I was afraid something would happen to them here.

John Paul.

Something did happen to them here. John Paul took them.

P.S. Check the bathroom.

Zane pushed himself to his feet, mumbling about the crazy habits of the Amish. But the presents weren’t in the bathroom, either. All he found was another note. This one taped to the mirror.

Sorry. Decided this was not the place for them either. The chicken coop is much safer.

The chicken coop?

Zane rushed back down the stairs, rounding into the kitchen and pointing a finger at John Paul. “Where are they?”

The young man shrugged, his face impassive, and Zane wondered if he’d ever played poker. John Paul glanced at the note in Zane’s hand. “Says there, in the chicken coop.”

“You did not put my Christmas presents in the chicken coop.”

He shrugged again. “Says I did.”

Zane glared at John Paul for a full minute while he sat and drank coffee, then he realized what this was about. Paybacks for the payback.

With a low growl that was more for show, Zane pulled on his coat and hat and made his way outside.

He found just what he suspected in the chicken coop: a note telling him that the presents were in the linen closet for safe keeping.

He went back inside the house, hiding his grin as he took off his coat and hat and ran up the stairs. As he knew it would be, the linen closet did not house his presents—just another infernal note telling him that the barn was a better storage place, of course.

Zane tripped down the stairs, a little slower this time, donned his hat and coat and shot a look at the three innocent bystanders. Well, two of them were innocent.

It took him a little longer to find the note in the barn, as it was tacked onto the wall of one of the empty stalls. It stated, as he knew it would, that the barn might be a little messy for the presents, and that they were indeed upstairs in the room that Annie occupied.

Not so innocent after all.

Zane made his way back into the house, pulled off his coat and hat, hung them on their pegs and jogged up the stairs. He made it as far as Annie’s door, but stopped when he found the expected note stuck to the outside.

The presents were in the buggy.

He went back down the stairs again, pulled on his coat, smacked his hat on his head, and did his best not to slam the door behind him as he made his way back out to the barn.

But the presents weren’t in the buggy, just another note telling him to check in the downstairs bathroom.

He stalked across the yard, wondering how much longer John Paul could keep this up, and how much longer it would be before he ran himself ragged looking for the presents.

Zane pulled open the front door, took off his hat, then his coat, all the while watching John Paul for any sign of weakness. There were none.

Note in hand, he made his way to the downstairs bathroom where he found another one telling him to look upstairs. He shot John Paul a look as he climbed the stairs, again. He found another note on the door to their room stating that John Paul had found the best place for hiding the presents: they were under his bed!

Zane looked, and sure enough there they were under John Paul’s bed, not five feet from where they had started out. He blew out a breath, rocking on his heels. Then he pulled the presents out and made his way down the stairs.

John Paul was laughing hysterically when Zane hit the first floor.

Zane tried to act mad, but that lasted all of two minutes. He sat the presents at one end of the table and joined in.

John Paul wiped his eyes. “You should have seen your face.”

“Don’t push it.” Zane growled.

Abram chuckled as he joined them. “That’ll teach you to go around feedin’ people the devil’s chutney.”

They were still laughing when Annie called them to eat. Zane bowed his head and said a prayer with them, the motion as natural as breathing. He had so much to be thankful for: the feeling of family on this beautiful Christmas Day, the fact that the Lord loved them enough to send them Jesus, and had he mentioned the feeling of family? He had never before experienced anything so closely resembling a family. He hadn’t really known what he was missing. Now he did. He would miss them more than they knew.

Soon after, Gideon arrived with Katie Rose and Gabriel’s bunch not far behind. John Paul fetched Noni from the
grossdawdi haus,
and the celebration began.

As far as celebrations go, this one was rather subdued, but the fire crackled and everyone was together. Of course, nothing is really quiet with seven children present, yet Zane enjoyed every minute of it. He handed out his presents, more excited to see what everyone thought about their gifts than he was about opening the stack that had appeared next to his chair.

“Zane Carson, it’s beautiful,” Ruth said, as she carefully unwrapped the faceless nativity scene.

For Annie, he had bought a length of fabric in the most beautiful shade of purple. He’d consulted with Coln Anderson’s wife, and she assured him that the fabric would be allowed by the bishop and would also match the newcomer’s eyes perfectly. He’d bought the men varying sets of tools including a battery-operated drill that could be recharged at the general store. For the children he had purchased a variety of toys and candies in celebration of the day.

He held his breath when Katie Rose got to her present.

She ripped daintily at the bright red paper that covered the box. But young Samuel was having none of that. He tore at the paper with a squeal of glee. Zane wasn’t sure if it was because the package, all of his packages for that matter, were wrapped in brighter paper than all of the others—they had been wrapped in old copies of the Old Order Amish newspaper,
Die Botschaft
, and brown grocery sacks. He wondered if that was part of the
Ordnung
that he’d missed, but no one seemed too concerned on the festive occasion.

Samuel ripped and tore while Katie Rose laughed at his antics. Then she grew quiet, her beautiful eyes big and round. “An entire set of
The Little House on the Prairie
series?”

Zane nodded, a lump in his throat from her awed expression.

“In hardbound copies?”

“For your classroom.”

She smiled, even as she blinked back joyful tears. “
Danki
, Zane Carson.”

He wanted to get up and take her in his arms, share an embrace with her like they had in the barn after the birth of Jennifer’s colt, but he remained stuck to his chair. Showing her how much giving the present to her really meant to him was not necessary. Desired, but not feasible.

Annie nodded toward the pile that had slowly been building up next to Zane’s seat. “You haven’t opened any of your presents.”

He picked the one on top, realizing for the first time that everyone else had finished unwrapping their gifts, had fed the paper into the fire, and now were waiting on him. He’d been so caught up in the giving that he had completely forgotten about the receiving end.

There were four, but considering the fact that they were his first Christmas presents ever, it seemed like a mountain of gifts to him. He tore at the corner of one.

Noni pounded her cane against the planks of the floor, her green eyes sharp and merry. “That one is from me,” she said, pointing a gnarled finger. Zane couldn’t imagine what the old woman had to give him, but he was excited. He tore off the paper and uncovered the most beautiful sweater he had ever seen. It was black, a thick knit that looked like something from Anthropologie for men, if there had been such a store. Handmade, each stitch near perfect, but with enough texture to keep it interesting.

Emotion constricted his throat. “
Danki
, Noni.”

“It will keep you warm, Zane Carson. I hear tell that Chicago city is cold in the wintertime.”

“It is.” He gently wrapped the sweater back in its paper, knowing full well that every time he wore it he would be thinking of Clover Ridge.

Mary Elizabeth clapped her hands together. “Open mine next.”

“It’s from both of us,” John Paul added.

She elbowed him in the ribs, and Zane couldn’t help but laugh at their antics. Their relationship was just another something to add to the list of things that he would miss once he left.

He opened the present to find an entire box of Astro Pops. Everyone laughed. “That way you’ll have plenty,” Mary Elizabeth said.

“Yes, I will,” he said with a chuckle.

The next present was a shirt from Katie Rose. She had made it from a pretty green-patterned fabric. Its color-on-color roses might have been considered feminine, but somehow the shirt looked worthy of Banana Republic. He’d wear it with pride. “It’s beautiful.
Danki
.”

Katie Rose nodded.

Their gazes locked and held, and for that moment, everything seemed to stand still. A cliché, maybe, but that was what it felt like. He and Katie Rose alone, yet connected. Everyone else faded into the background, and it was just the two of them.

Then someone coughed.

“Open the last one,” Ruth requested softly.

Zane picked up the last present, this one wrapped in newspaper decorated with drawings of the Northern star, a cross, and the outline of what could only be a manger.

He tore at the paper, anticipation rising.

The Holy Bible.

Warmth flooded his hands, and they tingled as if the book were alive and vibrating its energy into him. He looked up in wonderment.