An Amish Christmas Quilt (3 page)

Not that he was in a hurry to change his status. Because he and his youngest brother, Aaron, still lived at home, they could handle the livestock chores and other work their wheelchair-bound father wasn't up to, so it seemed a comfortable arrangement. Nothing worth changing for any of the girls he'd ever dated, anyway.

And witnessing this baby's birth didn't make him feel any more inclined to get romantically involved, either.

So when Andy told him he could let Mary rest on the exam table, Seth eased out from under her, said his good-byes, and returned to the shop. It was a sunny September day, and he had satisfying work awaiting him. Mary and her kids were in good hands and a welcoming home. He'd simply helped her the way any fellow would've done, and he could return to his routine without a backward glance or a second thought.

Well, almost.

C
HAPTER
2

The Saturday after Emmanuel was born, Miriam's kitchen bustled with local women who'd come to a frolic to make diapers and baby clothes. Mary resigned herself to acting cheerful and grateful, although in truth she felt overwhelmed, still sore, and totally drained. How had her aunt put in a full day at the Sweet Seasons, and then welcomed her friends into her home for this spur-of-the-moment sewing party?

All Mary had done since the baby's birth was sit with him, nap with him, and nurse him—and given the chance, she would be hiding away in her room rather than socializing this afternoon.

“Emmanuel, what a
gut
boy you are, smilin' even though you're the only fella amongst us hens,” Naomi Brenneman cooed.

Mary put on a smile as her cousins, Rachel and Rhoda, gathered around her rocking chair with Seth's mother. Her other cousin Rebecca, who'd assisted her at the clinic—and who wore jeans and a T-shirt, as she'd been living among
Englisch
until she'd reunited with Miriam's family a year ago—joined them, as well. “He
should
be smiling, because you ladies have all come over to sew for him,” Mary replied. “You must think I'm horribly unprepared to be a mother—”

“Don't go puttin' yourself down, Mary,” Naomi insisted kindly. “What with takin' on another man's kids and hardly havin' time to adjust to bein' a wife before ya lost your husband, you've had more on your plate than any of us could digest by ourselves. Sewin' up some diapers, blankets, and clothes is the least we can do for ya.”

“
Jah
, and it's a nice excuse to spend an afternoon visitin', too,” Rhoda spoke up. “This is Andy's daughter, Taylor, and she's been lookin' forward to playin' with Lucy today.”

Mary smiled at the little girl, who resembled her father—the nurse who ran the Willow Ridge Clinic. “If you go on back to the
dawdi haus
, I bet Lucy would be glad to meet you. She's shy around crowds. You could go to the barn to see her two kitties and Clarabelle, her miniature pony, too.”

Taylor's eyes lit up and she hurried out of the kitchen.

“So how's Andy coming along with his instruction, and with learning
Deitsch
so he can join the Old Order?” Mary asked.

Rhoda beamed. “He's gettin' a handle on the language. And he's doin' real well at the clinic and with his medical wagon,” she replied. “It's all
gut
! Just a matter of time until all the pieces fall into place so Andy and I can marry.”

Mary was amazed at the faith and patience required on Rhoda's part, waiting for a man who'd left his
Englisch
life behind to become Amish, for
her
. Mary also hoped that one day she would be as comfortable with Elmer's children as Rhoda was with Andy's kids, Taylor and Brett—who were the same ages as Sol and Lucy.

“I'm certainly grateful to your Andy for helping me birth Emmanuel,” Mary said. “He's a wonderful-
gut
man.”

“
Jah
, he's that,” Rhoda said, her blue eyes a-sparkle. Then she tweaked Emmanuel's cheek and rested her hand on Mary's shoulder. “One of these days life'll look better to ya, cuz,” she murmured. “We all have our peaks and valleys—and we have our faith to see us through the low spots until we can rise above them.”

“So this is the new wee one? And his name's Emmanuel?” A plump woman Mary hadn't yet met was bustling toward them, her
kapp
strings a-flutter and her smile bright. “Why, with a name like that, every day'll be Christmas!
O come, o come, E-maaa-nyew-elle
!”

Mary wanted to laugh out loud, but that would be rude. The woman who'd just burst into song appeared to be about thirty, with thick glasses and dark hair and eyebrows—and cheeks that had shimmied while she'd been singing.

“I'm Alberta Zook—cousin to Henry, the storekeeper—and I'm also the teacher at the Willow Ridge school,” she added. “Did I hear correctly that you've got a boy in second grade?”

“
Jah
, Solomon—he goes by Sol—is seven,” Mary replied. “We'll be sure he gets to the schoolhouse, come Monday morning. He's not said as much, but he's missing his friends—and he's ready to spend his days at something other than watching me tend the baby.”

“We'll put him to work! And he'll have Henry's two boys to buddy up with,” Alberta declared gleefully. Then she shook her head. “As I look toward the Christmas Eve program this year, I'm wondering how we'll cobble one together. All of our older scholars graduated from eighth grade last spring, which leaves me with only Cyrus and Levi Zook and their little sister, Amelia—and now Sol.”

“Oh, my!” Mary blurted. “How did
that
happen, that you have so few scholars?”

Alberta shrugged. “Willow Ridge is a small district and we've hit one of those transitional times—the kids who just finished school will soon be courting and marrying, and we've got babies being born, but right now we've got a gap. With the Knepp twins to join us next September, and Andy Leitner's kids coming whenever he and Rhoda get hitched, we'll be on the rise again.”

“And Lucy will start school next year,” Mary remarked as she continued to rock the baby.

“So you're going to stay here? Praise be!” Alberta exclaimed. “As you can imagine, I'm having an
interesting
year, what with only my three young cousins in my classroom. Sol will be a welcome addition.”

Mary smiled, but she felt as though Teacher Alberta had just proclaimed the Kauffman clan's future. She hadn't intended to imply that she'd be sticking around in Willow Ridge. She had a farm to return to, and parents who'd be insisting that she and the kids live with them, and—well, the list of responsibilities went on and on.

Mary blinked. It seemed very selfish to consider living in Willow Ridge just because she
wanted
to. After all, Elmer's brothers had offered to take her in, and Sol and Lucy were their blood kin. Her parents had finally come around to accepting Sol and Lucy—and they were eager to welcome Emmanuel. . . .

Those were dangerous thoughts for a young Amish widow. Conformity and community paved the path to a life of Plain faith, and if she severed her ties in Bowling Green, she might as well spit in her preacher father's face.

The women who'd gathered at Miriam's long kitchen table to make diapers were chatting merrily as they began their afternoon—time they were devoting to
her
and her little family. And what examples they were! Aunt Miriam had started her bakery café when she'd been widowed—and she'd reunited with her daughter, Rebecca, whom everyone believed had died in a flood, when after nineteen years, she'd returned to Willow Ridge. Meanwhile, Rhoda Lantz was in love with a divorced
Englisch
fellow who was taking his instruction to join the Old Order so he could marry her. Naomi Brenneman had partnered with Miriam to bring in additional income after her husband suffered a construction accident and became wheelchair-bound. The whole district was recovering nicely from the misadventures of their former bishop, Hiram Knepp, who'd been excommunicated and had then started up a new colony under very dubious circumstances.

If these people could pull together after such ordeals, to move in new directions, why couldn't she do the same? While she'd lived her entire life in Bowling Green, Willow Ridge vibrated with a vitality she found refreshing and uplifting.

Mary placed Emmanuel in his carrier and then very carefully—so as not to strain her stitches, which still hurt—she headed toward the table. It was time to join these wonderful, generous women. It was time to thread her needle and stitch up a new life for herself.

 

Several days later, Seth held another post in place and then drove in the long screws with his pneumatic screwdriver—
zzzt, zzzt, zzzt
—building a small addition to the front of Ben Hooley's barn. While Ben hadn't said as much, Seth suspected that Rowdy and the Kauffmans' two cats were creating havoc among the Hooleys' driving and draft horses—not to mention Miriam's chickens.

When he finished this afternoon, Clarabelle would have her own stall, and there would be an open area filled with straw for the border collie and the cats to sleep in, along with a dog door. It was an expense that a lot of Amish men wouldn't have considered . . . and to Seth, it also suggested that the Kauffmans might be staying in Willow Ridge longer than Mary's recovery would require.

Grinning at that notion, Seth drove the screws that would secure the stall railings.
Zzzt, zzzt, zzzt
—

“What're
you
doin'?” a small voice demanded.

Seth looked over to see Sol standing a few feet away, his brow furrowed as he ran his hand over Rowdy's black ears. How was it that every word from this kid's mouth sounded judgmental? Had the youngster taken on such an attitude after his
dat
died, or had he always had such an edge to him? Seth reached for more long screws, considering his answer. “Your Uncle Ben is havin' me build a stable for Clarabelle, Rowdy, and your cats,” he replied. “He wants you and Lucy to be able to play with them, and feed them, without possibly gettin' trampled by his big horses.”

“Why's he doin'
that
?” Sol demanded. “We'll be goin' back to Bowling Green any time now. We've got a farm there—and Clarabelle
likes
her stall there. It's our
home
.”

Seth's eyebrows rose, but he didn't answer immediately. In the week since Mary and her little brood had come to town, he'd not seen them or heard anything more of their plans. What should he believe? Their immediate departure might be wishful thinking on Sol's part.

“We all need a safe, warm place to call home,” Seth mused aloud. “My brothers and I built this barn, along with Miriam and Ben's house, ya know. We built the Sweet Seasons and the furniture in it, too, and some of the other newer buildings hereabouts.”

“Oh,
jah
?” Sol retorted. “Well, my
dat
ran a sawmill. How do ya suppose you'll be gettin' any more lumber, now that it's burnt down?”

Seth gritted his teeth. He'd heard about Elmer Kauffman's fatal fire, and he felt bad that this family had lost their anchor to such a tragic accident. He also understood how a seven-year-old's worldview would center around his father's workplace to the exclusion of other sawmills. It was beside the point that the Kauffman mill had produced wooden pallets rather than lumber that went into cabinetry or residential construction.

Should he correct the youngster? Set him straight about his attitude, just as Miriam had the other day? Or should he be more tolerant and patient, knowing how Sol's world had been turned upside down when his
dat
had died? Since Sol was shooting questions at him, maybe he should do the same . . . to take the edge off the conversation and gather a little information in a roundabout way. “I'm really sorry about your
dat
dyin' in that fire, Sol,” Seth said in a low voice. Then, before the boy could get huffy again, he said, “How's your baby brother doin'?”

The boy grimaced. “Emmanuel? He spends most of his time sleepin' or cryin' or stinkin' up our room.”

Seth chuckled as he rummaged in his sack for more long screws. “He'll get past that. We all started out the same way, ya know.”

“Mary's up at all hours of the night with him, too,” Sol groused. “I hardly get any sleep. Nodded off at school today, and Teacher Alberta screeched at me.”

Seth held his comments, both about the boy calling his step-
mamm
by her first name and about his constant complaining. Sol was a very good reason not to let his thoughts wax romantic when it came to Mary Kauffman. “And how's it goin' in your new school?” he asked, thinking that was a safer subject. “I bet you're makin' lots of new friends.”

“Puh! Cyrus and Levi Zook are the only other scholars—unless ya count their little sister, Amelia.” A sly smile flickered on the boy's face. “We boys're keepin' the teacher busy. She says she's got eyes in the back of her head, so she sees every little thing we're doin', but most times—even with her big ol' glasses—Teacher Alberta's as blind as a bat.”

Seth stifled a laugh. More than one fellow in Willow Ridge had noticed how, with her black-rimmed glasses, her large nose, and her thick eyebrows, Alberta Zook looked like she was wearing one of those gag masks Henry sold in the toy aisle of his market.

“You'd best behave yourselves,” he warned. “If Ben and the Zooks'
dat
get word you're causin' her trouble, they'll be payin' ya a visit in class—and givin' ya extra chores after school to work some of that mischief out of ya.”