Christmas at Promise Lodge (2 page)

When she saw Amos Troyer stepping out onto his porch, Mattie waved and started walking toward him. His new home was modest and small compared to the others, because as a widower he wasn't going to raise another family—although it was no secret that he hoped Mattie would marry him someday soon. Truth be told, she savored her independence after enduring a husband who'd mistreated her, but she enjoyed Preacher Amos's company.

“I've got a surprise for your breakfast,” she called out as she approached his tidy white house. “The Kuhn sisters were kind enough to make us some biscuit sandwiches—”

“Did somebody say biscuits?” Roman hollered as he came out of Noah's house, which was next door to Amos's. Queenie, Noah's black-and-white Border collie, rushed out into the yard, barking excitedly.

Behind Roman, Noah was stepping outside, buttoning his black vest over his white shirt. “Hope you've got more than one of those sandwiches, Mamm,” he said with a laugh. “The pizza Deborah made for us last night is long gone—and she's not showing her face until church starts.”

“You poor, starving things,” Mattie teased as she started up the walk toward her sons. “Deborah deserves a wedding day away from the stove.”

“Or you could get by on bacon, eggs, and toast like I do,” Preacher Amos teased as he strode across his small, leaf-covered yard. He stopped a few feet away from Mattie to take in her new dress—and the plate in her hand—with an appreciative smile. He lowered his voice before Roman and Noah reached them. “Of course, if you married me, Mattie, I wouldn't be threatened by starvation or depression or any of those other maladies a man alone endures.”

“
Jah
, so you've told me,” Mattie teased as she removed the napkin that covered her plate. “Maybe someday I'll feel sorry enough for you to give up my cozy apartment in the lodge.”

The moment her sons joined them, the three sandwiches were snatched up. With a welling-up of love, Mattie watched Noah eat. Although he was twenty-one, it seemed like only yesterday when he'd been born. He and Deborah had known each other all their lives, had become sweethearts in school, had gotten engaged—until Deborah broke off their relationship, claiming Noah didn't communicate with her or have a concrete plan for their future. The nasty incident involving Isaac Chupp had brought Noah out of his shell, awakening his protective feelings for Deborah, and all of them at Promise Lodge had breathed a sigh of relief when the young couple reconciled this past summer.

“I'm proud of you, Noah,” Mattie murmured as she stroked his unruly brown waves. “I wish you all the happiness that marriage and your faith in God can offer.”

Blushing, Noah eased away from her touch. “
Denki
, Mamm. I think Deborah and I have figured out how to stay together now,” he said as he offered his dog the last bite of his biscuit.

Mattie shared a smile with Preacher Amos. “When you're my age, son, you'll look back to this day and realize how young and innocent you were,” she murmured.

“And clueless.” Amos laughed. “We fellows like to believe we've got everything figured out and under control—until life starts tossing monkey wrenches into our well-laid plans. I'm a different kind of man than I imagined I'd be when I was your age.”

“Did folks hitch their rigs to dinosaurs back then?” Roman teased. He, too, fed the last bite of his sandwich to Queenie and then rubbed between her black ears.

“Puh! I didn't have much money when I married,” the preacher reminisced, “but I drove fine-looking retired racehorses. Not that my bride always appreciated my priorities,” he admitted. “I hope you'll give a thought to Deborah's needs before you devote the household budget to your own whims, Noah. I had a spendy streak—”

“But all the girls liked what they saw and thought you'd be a fine catch back in the day, Amos,” Mattie cut in with a chuckle.

“Back in the day?” he challenged. The way he held her gaze made Mattie's cheeks prickle. “Might be a little snow on the roof, but there's still a fire down below.”

“And with that, I'm going to finish getting dressed,” Roman announced, pointing toward the rigs coming through the camp entrance. “We've got guests arriving. I hope you two won't be gawking at each other all during the service, embarrassing us all.”

Mattie smiled, watching her two sons and the dog enter Noah's white frame house. “I'm so glad we came to Promise Lodge,” she murmured to Amos. “So glad we risked buying this property so we're no longer living in Obadiah Chupp's shadow. If I'd still been shackled to that farmhouse in Coldstream, I couldn't have given my boys plots of land where they could lead lives of their own.”

“You're an innovator, for sure and for certain,” Amos agreed. “The best thing I ever did was sell my place and come to the tiny town of Promise with you and your sisters. I feel like my life and my efforts
matter
now, as we build houses for our new neighbors. The land is like a paradise and the air smells cleaner—”

“That's because I showered this morning,” Mattie teased.

She faced Amos, loving the way his laughter eased the lines time had carved into a masculine face weathered by the elements and life experiences. Her life would've been entirely different had her
dat
allowed her to marry Amos Troyer when she was young instead of insisting she take up with Marvin Schwartz, who'd come into a farm with a house on it. Amos had been a fledgling carpenter without two nickels to rub together.

At fifty, Amos was five years older than she, but his strong, sturdy body showed no signs of softening with age or health issues. He was a man in his prime, and he'd made no bones about wanting to marry her now that both of their spouses had passed. Sometimes Mattie was on the verge of blurting out a
yes
when Amos talked of getting hitched—and then memories of Marvin's abuse would come rushing back to her.

No, she wasn't in a hurry to take on another husband, another household. But if she ever did, it would be with Amos.

“I hope you'll allow me the honor of sitting with you at dinner as we celebrate your son's big day,” he murmured, squeezing her hand.

Mattie smiled up at him, gripping his fingers before releasing them. His silver-shot hair and beard shimmered in the morning light, and he cut a fine figure in his black suit and white shirt. “I'll be happy to, Amos. God be with you as you find the words for your sermon this morning.”

Amos flashed her a boyish grin. “It'll be God I'm listening to as I speak,” he said, “but it'll be you I'm looking to for inspiration, Mattie. I hope today's celebration turns out to be every bit as wonderful as you are.”

Mattie flushed with pleasure, watching him walk to Noah's new house to prepare for the service—the home Amos had designed and then built with the help of the other local fellows, with interior walls that could be removed to accommodate large crowds for church services. Amos's hands were calloused from years of carpentry, but there was no softer, more loving heart on God's green earth.

* * *

A few hours later, Amos sat on the preacher's bench trying not to scowl. After a full-length church service they had progressed into the wedding, and he had preached the first sermon on the thirteenth chapter of First Corinthians—about how love was patient and kind, an example of the humility Plain folks were to strive for. Bishop Floyd Lehman was now delivering the second, longer sermon before he would lead Noah and Deborah in their marriage vows, and his tone was becoming more strident as he discussed the duties of husband and wife to each other and to God. It was an appropriate topic, but some of the folks in the congregation appeared to be shrinking into themselves like turtles retreating into their shells, probably because the bishop's resonant voice had risen to fever pitch.

“As we consecrate the union of this young Amish couple, I must insist that the single and widowed men and women among us find mates
immediately
,” he exhorted. “Before the snow flies, I expect to see you—Matilda Schwartz, Christine Hershberger, Rosetta Bender, Amos Troyer, and Marlin Kurtz—standing before me to take your wedding vows! It's unnatural for God's children to live alone, or for women to engage in any business other than making a home for their families. Moreover,” he continued, gesticulating dramatically, “our colony cannot condone the intermarriages of Old Order members with those of more liberal Plain faiths. When we take on the ways of a lesser faith, we weaken the very foundation of our colony—and we risk losing our salvation in our Lord.”

Amos gripped the edge of the preacher's bench until his hands hurt. This was not the proper time to challenge folks by name, telling them to find mates. He couldn't miss the way Truman Wickey, their Mennonite neighbor, had also tensed. Truman sat on the front pew bench of the men's side, serving as one of Noah's
newehockers
along with Roman, so his reaction was easy to see. Amos suspected that on the women's side, Rosetta, Mattie, and Christine appeared equally perturbed.

To Amos's right, Preacher Eli Peterscheim shifted on the wooden bench as the bishop continued preaching. “That's just wrong,” he muttered under his breath. “You can't tell me God instructed Floyd to name names and set a deadline for marrying.”

Amos agreed with Eli's assessment. Why on earth had Bishop Floyd used this wedding sermon to single out the three women who'd founded their colony—and then named him and Marlin, as well? Why was Floyd so set on following the very strictest formula of the Old Order faith, when other communities allowed intermarriage and home-based businesses run by married women?

On Amos's other side, Marlin Kurtz, the colony's new preacher, leaned closer. “That's outrageous—I've only lived here a couple months,” he whispered. “I've had no time to court anyone while building a house and getting my kids settled in. Is Floyd always this intense?”

Amos stifled a cough. “If the bishop thinks the unattached folks here are going to bang his door down, asking him to officiate at their weddings in the next few weeks, he's in for a rude awakening.”

Sure enough, when Amos peered toward the side of the expanded front room where the women sat, he saw that Mattie's lips were pressed into a tight line as though she might explode from suppressing her irritation with Bishop Floyd. Rosetta's face was as red as an apple from the orchard, and Christine's scowl could've curdled milk. Amos suspected the three sisters would express their opinions openly once they were out of church, and he prayed the bishop wouldn't spoil this festive occasion by lashing out or ordering them to pay some sort of penance for challenging his decree. Amos predicted that Mattie's frustration would get her into hot water one of these days, and unfortunately, Floyd Lehman would always have the upper hand and the last word.

Help us serve You, Jesus, even when our passions and loyalty blind us
, Amos prayed.
And help me walk in Your way if push comes to shove between Bishop Floyd and the Bender sisters.

Chapter Two

Mary Kate Lehman sat on the front porch swing of the new house, wrapped in a cozy old quilt. She gazed toward the white frame home where Noah and Deborah were being married—barely able to see it between the large old maple trees that shimmered in shades of gold, orange, and crimson as the late-morning sunshine struck them. She'd been ready to enter Noah's house with the other ladies before the church service began, until her
dat
's disapproving glare had sent her trundling awkwardly up the road, clutching her belly as she blinked back tears. Why did life have to be so hard, so harsh, after that English stranger had taken advantage of her?

As an obedient bishop's daughter, however, Mary Kate knew better than to voice such a question aloud. All her life her parents had insisted that she was to listen and obey rather than to question the path God had chosen for her. Sighing, she rocked back and forth in the swing. The sound of more than a hundred voices singing a hymn drifted down the road, telling her that the wedding ceremony was almost over. She'd planned to join everyone in the lodge for the wedding meal—she ate there on Sundays with her new friends at Promise Lodge—but the thought of so many guests and strangers staring at her gave her pause.

In Amish society, there was simply no place, no explanation, for an unmarried girl who was eight months pregnant. She was grateful to Mattie Schwartz, Rosetta Bender, and Christine Hershberger for welcoming her so warmly to this new colony. At times they seemed more sympathetic to her situation than her parents or her older sister, Gloria.

Mary Kate leaned forward, straining to see the guests as they came out of Noah's house in a steady stream. Lots of people had arrived from Coldstream, where the Schwartzes and Preacher Amos had lived before, not to mention kinfolk of the Peterscheims who'd come from other towns . . . folks she didn't know and would likely not see again. They would figure she'd crossed the line with an errant boyfriend, and they would judge her. She rose from the swing, resigning herself to a cheese sandwich and a glass of milk.

She was slicing a ball of creamy, pale mozzarella cheese the Kuhn sisters had made when rapid footsteps clattered across the porch out front.

“Mary Kate? Mary Kate, you won't believe it!” her sister called out as she entered the house. Gloria burst into the kitchen, her dark eyes alight with excitement. “Guess who kept looking at me all during the church service?”

Mary Kate shrugged, arranging the cheese on a slice of bread she'd spread with mayonnaise. “Could have been anybody, seeing's how so many folks from out of town are—”

“Roman Schwartz!” Gloria blurted. “It was easy to see him, of course, because he was in the front row with his brother and that Mennonite guy Rosetta likes.”

“Truman Wickey.”

“
Jah
, but the
best
part,” Gloria continued in a breathless voice, “was how Roman was sneaking peeks at me. I'm going back to the lodge now, because if I help refill water glasses or hand out the sliced pie, I can keep an eye on him—and convince him to ask me out! You'd think he'd take the hint after I've been talking to him all summer, but I feel like today's going to be my lucky day!”

Mary Kate gazed at her sister, unsure of what to say. Not so long ago she and Gloria had held similar conversations about the boys they saw around town or at weddings, but now that she was pregnant with an unknown man's child, the prospect of attracting a boyfriend was a dream that would never come true—not that her sister noticed. Gloria was twirling a
kapp
string around her finger, smiling and batting her long lashes as she anticipated what she'd say and do when Roman finally noticed her. At twenty-two, Gloria had left a few boyfriends behind when they'd moved here from Sugarcreek, Ohio—and Mary Kate had no illusions about her sister's ability to attract additional young men here in Missouri. Gloria had always been prettier than she, and more outgoing, and better at flirting and making small talk, and—

Well, everyone knows she'll be getting hitched before long
, Mary Kate mused with a sigh.
The Bible tells us of the haves and the have-nots, and Gloria's got her share of blessings and mine, too.

Gloria blinked. “Oh—Mamm wants me to ask if she can bring you some food from the wedding meal. We can fix you a plate—”

Mary Kate's lips twitched. It would be like Mamm to think of feeding her, while Gloria had mostly hurried home to share her plan for enticing Roman. “No need for that,” she assured her sister. “Maybe if there's food left after all the guests have eaten a plate, it would be nice, but I've got some of Beulah's cheese and—”

“All right then, I'll get back to the lodge,” Gloria replied as she hurried out of the kitchen.

The screen door banged behind her, sounding very much like the lid of a coffin falling shut. Mary Kate blinked rapidly, determined to enjoy her fresh cheese sandwich instead of crying. It was a beautiful, warm autumn day to eat outside on the porch, and she would not fall prey yet again to the emotions that surged like a rollercoaster, from highs to lows, without any warning. She had to believe that her life would go on, that her outlook would improve once she held her newborn baby.

“Kitty kitty?” Mary Kate glanced toward the mudroom where the two cats had their bed. As she pressed a second slice of fresh bread onto her cheese to form a thick sandwich, her white cat and its ginger companion peered out at her, blinking as though she'd wakened them from a nap. She took a few cat treats from a container in the pantry, capturing their attention.

“I've got something yummy here. If you come out to the porch with me, we can have a picnic,” Mary Kate murmured as she placed the treats on her plate. “If we're lucky, maybe later Mamm'll bring a go-box of something with gravy. I could really go for a big dollop of mashed potatoes smothered in chicken gravy. Or just a go-box full of gravy.”

Sugar and Spice followed her out the front door, meowing softly. When Mary Kate settled on the swing, the cats leapt nimbly up on either side of her, watching closely as she lifted the sandwich to her lips. As she chewed a huge bite of the soft cheese and fresh bread, she placed treats on the swing's padded seat for her pets. When she looked down the road again, the last guests were leaving Noah and Deborah's new home, ambling toward the dining room in the lodge to enjoy the wonderful meal she'd helped prepare yesterday.

Mary Kate had a sudden yearning to sink her teeth into Rosetta's moist, savory baked chicken and to cram her mouth full of the dressing the Kuhn sisters had made. Mamm had told her that cravings were common during pregnancy, yet deep down she wanted the fun and fellowship of the wedding dinner even more than the delicious food. Would it be this way for the rest of her life—sitting alone with the cats and the baby while the rest of the world passed her by? She sighed as she set her boring white sandwich on her plate and gave Sugar and Spice another treat.

She was almost ready to go inside, to search the cabinets and the fridge for something more tempting, when a movement at the back door of the lodge caught her eye. A tall, lithe figure jogged across the road toward Rainbow Lake and then disappeared into the orchard. The black pants, white shirt, and lean body build meant it was one of the young men attending the wedding, but why had he left the dinner that was just being served? And what was in the container he was carrying?

“There's a story there,” Mary Kate murmured. At the cats' nudging, she dropped another treat on either side of her. Absently, she took a bite of her sandwich as she tried to recall the guy's hair color. She was cramming the last of the sandwich into her mouth when a voice startled her.

“Here you are! I've been looking for you all morning, Mary Kate.”

Mary Kate's eyes widened as Roman Schwartz came around the side of the house and stepped up onto the porch. The cats, always wary of strangers, scurried to the far corner. With her mouth so full, all Mary Kate could do was hold up a finger in a plea to wait until she'd chewed and swallowed her unladylike mouthful of food. Why would Roman be here instead of on the
eck
, eating with the rest of the wedding party? Did she dare hope his lidded glass pan held food from the lodge kitchen?

And where's my sister?
she wondered as she finally managed a smile. “I—I wasn't expecting you,” she blurted. Feeling suddenly fat, she tried to cover her belly with her plate, knowing that trick wouldn't work.

Roman's lopsided smile made him look like a kid, although Mary Kate knew he was twenty-three or twenty-four. “I saw you going into Noah's house before church, but when I looked for you during the service, I only saw your sister. Are you all right?”

Mary Kate's cheeks prickled with heat. “Um, Dat sort of told me to go home,” she murmured. “He has a thing about women being seen in public when they're . . . carrying.”

“Ah. I thought it might be something like that. Not always easy, being the bishop's kid, I bet.” He glanced down as though he'd just remembered he was holding something. “I brought you some dinner.”

Had anyone ever done such a thoughtful thing for her? Shyly, Mary Kate held out her hands, and when Roman gave her the warm container, she caught a whiff of chicken that nearly made her swoon. Remembering her manners, she scooted to one end of the swing. “Sit down if you want,” she murmured. “But then, I guess you'll be heading back to eat with the bride and groom—”

Roman shrugged and sat on the other end of the swing. “Plenty of time for that, seeing's how the party will last all day. Can I get you a fork or something?”

Once again Mary Kate marveled at the kindness her visitor was showing. She chuckled as she lifted the container's lid and took a deep breath. “How did you know I'd been sitting here wishing for chicken and gravy?” she murmured ecstatically. “Oh, Roman,
denki
so much!”

He cleared his throat a little nervously. “I thought I'd visit awhile—unless you don't want me watching you eat.”

“We could share. You loaded enough into this pan for three people—which will work out just right, considering I'm eating for two,” Mary Kate teased. Then she nearly choked. Had she really made a joke about her condition to a
guy
? The fellow her sister was crazy for?

Roman laughed. “I'll get two forks. We'll see how much you leave for me.”

“
Jah
, it'll taste better now than it will later.”

By the time he'd reached the door, Mary Kate was ready to grab one of the seasoned chicken legs and stuff it unceremoniously into her mouth. Roman had mounded mashed potatoes at one end of the glass pan, along with a generous portion of dressing, and he'd poured creamy chicken gravy over it all. Alongside four pieces of baked chicken, he'd spooned some creamed celery and several slices of apples simmered in butter, brown sugar, and cinnamon. She inhaled deeply, closing her eyes.

“Did I pick stuff you like?” Roman asked as he returned with their forks. “I was trying to get out of the kitchen and across the road before your sister realized what I was doing. She's been, well . . . gawking at me a lot today.”

Mary Kate's heart skipped a beat. Who would ever have imagined Roman Schwartz—the guy who milked huge black-and-white dairy cows every day—trying to escape her sister's schemes? “Gloria wants to go out with you. But you didn't hear that from me.”

Roman handed her a fork and sat down in the swing again, close enough that they could eat from the glass pan he held between them. He seemed to be considering his response.

Mary Kate, however, wasted no time dipping up a big blob of potatoes and gravy. It was a mouthful of heaven. She closed her eyes over the combination of creaminess and warmth and smooth, well-seasoned chicken gravy. “Ohhh,” she murmured. “You have no idea how I was craving potatoes and gravy.”

Roman's smile made his brown eyes sparkle. His dark blond waves shifted in the breeze as he took a forkful of the dressing. “I could eat this kind of food every single day and not get tired of it,” he remarked. “But I don't know how to make potatoes and gravy and dressing—much less how to cook chicken the way my aunt does.”

I would make you mashed potatoes and gravy and dressing every day
, Mary Kate suddenly thought. But where had such an idea come from? Roman was at least six years older than she was, and he wouldn't be hanging around once the baby came. He'd felt sorry for her, being here by herself instead of attending the wedding, and she didn't want his pity. It occurred to Mary Kate that just this morning she'd told the gals at the lodge she wanted nothing to do with men, ever . . . yet Roman was making her forget her aversion. Could he be as genuinely nice as he seemed?

“You have
gut
taste, Roman,” she said as she reached for a chicken leg. “And
denki
again for thinking of me.”

“You're welcome.” He took hold of the pan so Mary Kate could use both hands to eat her chicken. He was polite enough not to comment when she made very short work of the leg and then set the bone against the side of the pan.

They spent the next several moments eating in companionable silence, careful to avoid each other's forks as they dipped into the container. When they were down to scraping the sides of the pan, they both sighed contentedly—and then laughed at themselves.

“I feel so much better,” Mary Kate said. “It was awfully nice of you to come.”

Roman smiled at her. “I'm glad I did. For guys my age, weddings feel like the first day of deer hunting season, when all the single gals behave as though the guys are walking targets. I suppose I should get back, though.”