The Amish Christmas Kitchen (18 page)

Titus pulled away and lifted a brow. “I hope I didn't hurt Adam's feelings.”

“
Ach,
he'll be all right. I saw Martha Weaver making eyes at him at the school program last night.”

“I made eyes at you at the school program last night.”

Katie giggled. “I know. You gave me butterflies.”

Judy
clip-clopp
ed past them with strands of red, yellow, and brown yarn tangled up in her ears. Adam's parents, Katie's parents, and Adam were doing more running around than the goats and making a lot more noise. Felty sat at the table with his arm around Anna, eating his triple chocolate cake while his eyes sparkled with delight. Neither of them seemed to mind that two goats were making a mess of their house.

“Do you think we should tell them how to catch the goats?” Katie said.

Titus grinned sheepishly. “One more kiss first?”

This time she stood on her tippy toes and wrapped her arms around his neck. He sort of lifted her off the ground, and his kiss made her feel like she was floating. Better than eating three pieces of Chocolate Wonder and a whole apple pie. If she'd known how
gute
it would feel, she would have kissed Titus a lot sooner.

Oh,
sis yuscht, ach, du lieva,
and
oy,
anyhow.

“Merry Christmas, Titus.”

“Merry Christmas, my dear Katie.”

C
HOCOLATE
W
ONDER

Preheat oven to 300 degrees F.

 

 

Mix and press into the bottom of a 9x13-inch pan. Bake at 300 degrees F for 25 minutes. Watch closely so it doesn't burn around the edges. Cool.

 

 

 

Half of the whipped topping

 

Mix well and pour over the cooled crust.

 

 

 

Spread over the cream cheese layer.

Spread the rest of the whipped topping over the top of the pudding layer. Sprinkle with chopped nuts or chocolate sprinkles (optional).

Let set in fridge for 4 to 5 hours.

T
HE
S
PECIAL
C
HRISTMAS
C
OOKIE

LISA JONES BAKER

I'm grateful to my Lord and Savior for publication after twenty-four years of prayers to see my work in print. Thank you to my mother, Marcia Baker, the most patient person in the world, for listening to me read my books out loud for over two decades. Thanks to computer expert and sister extraordinaire Beth Zehr for creating my Web site and for taking on my computer challenges at all times, day and night. Also thanks to niece Brittany for her huge contribution to my Web page. Thanks to my other invaluable computer assistants who help me at a moment's notice: Gary Kerr, Doug Zehr, Brooke Conlee, Bloomington Geek Squad. Thanks to writer Lisa Norato, confidante, critique partner, and true friend for riding out the entire tenure of my writing endeavors with me.

I owe tremendous thanks to numerous kind people in Arthur for patiently answering questions, having me in their homes, relating true stories during wonderful buggy rides, and allowing me special insight into a way of life that has my full respect, admiration, and fascination. Thanks to my Amish go-to girl, who prefers to remain anonymous, while faithfully reading my early copies, cover to cover, and for helping Emma to follow her heart. I owe a debt of gratitude to hundreds of writers in the RWA who reviewed my partials and offered input to hone my stories. Last but certainly not least, I'd like to give special thanks to my supportive agent, Tamela Hancock Murray, who stuck by me and rooted for me, and to my fabulous editor, Selena James, and everyone at Kensington Publishing who have been part of the production of this story.

C
HAPTER
1

E
mma drew a star at the top of Amos's English homework page and wrapped an affectionate arm around him. “Excellent work! You got every answer right!”

The corners of Amos's lips drew up into a huge grin that showed a row of straight teeth. The child had a kind face. And an even warmer heart. Every time Emma looked at him, the small boy's innocence tugged at her emotions.

As the first December snowfall touched the bare, frozen ground of Arthur, Illinois, the flame in the fireplace at the two-story Troyer home popped. Amos and Emma jumped at the same time. Laughter followed.

Automatically, Emma didn't waste time pulling the front of his black hand-knit sweater together. She tried to avoid mentioning Amos's unusual heart defect, but it was more important than ever to make sure he stayed warm. At the young age of six, Amos hadn't known any other way of life.

But good news had broken a year ago when he had visited a doctor at the Mayo Clinic who could fix it. Because they were Amish, they had no insurance, but thanks to the news reaching the media, there was huge support for an upcoming auction in their community to raise money for the unique procedure to take place in Rochester, Minnesota.

The smell of lemon-scented furniture polish loomed in the air. It was no secret that Amos's mother, Esther, kept the cleanest house in town when she was well. But unfortunately, she was forced to spend bouts of time in bed when the Epstein-Barr virus set her back. But even then, her sisters made sure the Troyer house stayed well kept!

As Emma regarded Amos, he turned to face her. The unexpected seriousness in his deep brown eyes took her by surprise.

When he tugged at her arm, his small white hand remained on her wrist. “Emmie, does this mean I get a cookie with icing?”

Emma broke out in laughter. For some reason, that was the last question she'd expected. He was referring to the star she'd drawn. Honored that her only student considered her Christmas cookies the best he'd ever tasted, Emma stood and proceeded to the thin red plastic platter she'd brought to his house that morning. Amos knew he had earned a cookie. And she loved making him happy. “Which one do you want?”

He quickly and eagerly joined her, pointing to the edible with peppermint icing. She plucked the chosen treat between two fingers, grabbed a napkin with her free hand, and laid both on the table.

While chewing the buttery dessert, he glanced back at her and grinned. “I like this better than the one you drew.”

Emma sat next to him. “I'll bet you do.”

He lifted a skeptical brow. “In my opinion, this is my favorite.”

She gave an appreciative nod. “That's good to hear.” Amos was fully aware that Emma changed her recipe a tad each time for Amos to decide which batch was the tastiest. When she altered the mixture, sometimes adding more butter, or vanilla, or flour, she documented her adjustments so when Amos decided which cookie won, she would use that formula for the auction, to take place in less than two weeks.

As she put his school books in a neat pile, his soft voice made her look up. “Emmie, when I have the operation, I won't have to wear this anymore, will I?” He looked down at his heavy knit sweater, and the corners of his lips dropped.

Contemplating an answer, she shoved her chair closer to the table. The quick motion made a light squeaking sound on the tiled floor.

While he chewed the morsel, Emma pressed her lips together thoughtfully. Somehow she knew that being positive would play a very important role in the outcome of the operation.

“You won't have to wear it in the summer. But in the winter?” She lifted a brow. “It's pretty cold. You'll probably want it on.”

Her answer seemed to satisfy him. After gobbling down the snack, he wrote out the answers she'd asked him to do on the paper in front of him. She watched his feet, which almost touched the floor, swing back and forth while he concentrated.

A bright beam of sunlight swept through the kitchen window and landed on his beautiful thick mass of hair, lightening it to a softer shade of reddish-blond.

Finally, the six-year-old dropped his pencil on the table and handed the paper to Emma while displaying a proud look on his face. “That was easy, Emmie. What next?”

The adult-like way he spoke at times prompted a smile. If only every child liked homework as much as Amos did. She tried not to overreact to the high academic level he'd achieved at his age; she never wanted it to go to his head.

She quickly put another project in front of him. “Here. Read it to yourself, then see how many answers you can get.” She followed the order with a wink.

Without wasting a second, he started the new project as if he was playing with a toy. Emma already knew that Amos would get every answer correct. She wasn't sure whether his reading ability was related to his inability to play outside with other children, but whatever the case, his level in English skills was heads above kids his age.

After he glanced at the page, he surprised her by dropping his pen next to the paper and looking straight ahead. Emma lifted a curious brow. Her instincts told her that some of his interest in completing his schoolwork was to please his tutor. He loved spending time with her. And vice versa.

He turned and crossed one leg under the other while getting comfortable on his chair. The serious look in his eyes hinted that he wanted to talk about something.

She hesitated. “Amos, is something wrong?”

He glanced down at the table and frowned. She tried for a positive thought to make him smile again. “Just think, Amos, it's only a matter of time before the surgery takes place. And you'll be as good as new!”

When he looked up, his expression was uncertain. He lowered the pitch of his voice until it was barely more than a whisper. “What if there aren't enough cookies?”

“You mean donations?”

He offered a slow, sad nod.

She reached across the table and used her pointer finger to lift his chin a notch. Their gazes locked. “Amos, I have every bit of faith that God will help us get enough money.”

She used her most confident voice. The last thing she wanted was for him to lose hope. “I have a list of cookie donations that would reach all the way to the North Pole!”

He laughed.

She went on to explain. “The cookies will help, that's for sure. But as I've told you, most of the revenue will come from more expensive items. Tables, chairs, and furniture that men in our community are working very hard to make.”

When he didn't say anything, she proceeded in her most reassuring tone. “Other donations will help, too. From what I've heard, one of the farmers in our community will even auction off some of his land to go to your fund.”

Amos pulled in a deep breath and rolled his eyes in disbelief.

“That goes to show just how special you are.”

His pupils got larger.

“Because so many people across the state are aware of this surgery . . . and of you . . . folks have committed out of the goodness of their hearts.”

He frowned and scratched his nose. “You mean they're giving money without getting anything back?”

She smiled at the way he worded the question. His thoughts were so straightforward. Honest. There was never a guess where he was coming from.

The mooing noises from the cattle lightened the silence.

“You know that people all over are rooting for you to get your surgery. Even the doctor who will perform the procedure is forfeiting what he would make.”

An emotional breath escaped her. She blinked when salty tears stung her eyes. She leaned closer to Amos and whispered, “Do you know just how special that makes you?”

To her surprise, he didn't grin. The expression in his large, hopeful eyes was unusually serious. “Do you know what I'm gonna do first thing after I get my heart fixed, Emmie?”

She looked at him for an answer.

“Play tag with Jake and Daniel. And nobody's gonna catch me!”

The admissions tugged at Emma's heartstrings until her chest ached. Automatically, she rested her hands below her neck and closed her eyes a moment. His wants were so simple. She knew of healthy kids with much stronger desires, but this little guy only wanted to run and play outside.

To Emma, raising sufficient funds for the operation would be one of God's greatest gifts. When Amos had asked her about it, she had stood firm that the funds would come in. But she was saying double prayers for it to actually happen.

How could any child be more precious than Amos? Emma was sure it wasn't possible, as she took in the small boy's endearing features and swallowed an emotional knot. Amos's thick mass of unruly hair fell lazily over his forehead and caressed the tops of his brows.

The child's deep brown eyes reminded her of autumn. Of pumpkin pie–colored leaves falling from tall trees. Tiny freckles on the bridge of his nose matched his pupils. And a narrow set of shoulders was the reason his suspenders continuously slipped down his arms.

Amos's wide smile was full of hope. Filled with an innocence that made Emma want to do everything she could to see him run around and have fun with kids his age.

And soon, he would get the long-awaited surgery that would allow him to have a normal life. The upcoming auction would be the ultimate blessing.

She'd been asking God for this miracle. Her faith was strong. And she knew her Lord and Savior wouldn't let her down.

* * *

The end of the school week was here. After Emma hugged Amos good-bye, she watched him tote his books to his room. That was the normal routine. Because the youngster was incredibly studious and also because she knew him so well, she didn't have to guess what he would do the rest of the evening.

As happy steps took him to his room on the ground floor, Emma took in the stairway that glistened with furniture polish. Before slipping inside of his door, he looked back at her and grinned. She offered a quick wave.

She had no doubt that he wouldn't waste time before checking out the story she'd just given him. She always took great care when selecting his material. This particular library book was about a child who had undergone surgery to correct his foot from turning inward. When she'd told Amos the theme, he'd immediately flipped open the cover.

As the fire crackled, Emma ran her hands up and down her sleeved arms. The unusually cold winds competed boldly with the gas heat, as well as the warmth from the fireplace.

As she considered the twenty-minute walk home, she pressed her lips together in a dread-filled sigh. She made her way to the dining room table to slip her teaching materials into the oversized bag her mamma had given her.

As soon as the books were tucked neatly inside the vinyl holder with extra-strong handles, Emma slipped her arms through her heavy wool coat and proceeded toward the door. As she passed the gas heater, she stopped and smiled a little, trying to savor the moment; she knew what to expect when she opened the front door.

As soon as her fingers touched the brass knob on the inside of the door, a stern voice stopped her. Automatically, she turned to face Amos's older brother, Jonathan, who regarded her with skepticism.

She forced a polite smile. “Jonathan.”

His face still held a slight tan from the summer. In his coat, he looked unusually large. It was common knowledge in their community that he was easily one of the strongest men around.

“You surprised me. I thought you were out feeding the cattle.”

“I finished.” He hesitated, and a set of dark brows drew together into a frown. “You got a moment?”

Before she could answer, she took in the dissatisfied look on his face that told her something was awry. But she wasn't surprised. It seemed as though nothing could please Amos's older brother these days.

She offered a slight shrug. “Sure. What's up?”

He motioned to the back door. “Let's talk while I drive you home.” For a moment, Emma drew in a grateful breath. At the same time, she wondered if it was proper to accept a ride from a single Amish man. She quickly decided that it was. The weather was dangerously cold, and this was common courtesy on Jonathan's part.

As if reading her mind, he smiled a little. “I don't want you to freeze to death, Emma.”

“Okay.”

He motioned and followed her out. The unusually high wind shear stopped her breath. She pressed her lips together to prevent the air from going down her throat. The fierce coldness stung her eyes, and she automatically lowered her lids a moment to adjust. When she opened them, she drew in a deep breath and shivered.

“You okay?”

The concerned tone of his voice prompted a comforting sensation. She parted her lips in reaction. The question showed thoughtfulness, a side of Jonathan that was endearing. She pulled in a deep breath.

“
Denki
.” She smiled a little. “What's on your mind?”

As she stepped inside of the carriage, Emma tried to stop her teeth from chattering. She knew without question that Jonathan obviously wanted to discuss something away from Amos. But the coldness quickly turned to a much-appreciated warmth as Jonathan turned on his gas heater.

Some Amish didn't use anything to make their cabins of their carriages more comfortable; she was happy he did. And the cabin in the buggy wasn't tight, so the fumes posed no danger. She relaxed a little and flexed her fingers in reaction to the change in temperature.

He cleared his throat. “It's the auction.”

Emma darted him a quick glance to continue ahead.

“When you and the others voted for this fund-raiser, I never actually thought it would materialize.” He turned to her and lowered his pitch to a more serious tone.