Christmas at Promise Lodge (6 page)

He studied Mattie's face. She had a few gray strands in her dark brown hair, and some fine lines around her eyes—and a smile filled with wonderment—and to Amos, she'd never looked prettier. “Don't you wonder what God thinks when He looks down at all of us?” she said softly. “It amazes me that we surely must appear so tiny and insignificant, yet He hears our prayers . . . and answers them.”

“And that, dear Mattie, is why you and I are together now,” Amos whispered. “He answered my prayers—even if parts of His reply aren't what I wanted to hear.”

Mattie nipped her lip, glancing up at him. “Like the part where Floyd is telling us women to get rid of our businesses?” she said ruefully. “Has the bishop said anything more to you about what's to happen to the produce stand? Or to Christine's dairy herd and Rosetta's apartments in the lodge?”

“It would be the natural order of things for your husbands to assume ownership of your land and your businesses—at least in the more conservative Amish communities,” Amos replied quietly. “But I have no time or desire to take on the produce business you've established. The gardening season is the best time for me to be building homes for the folks who come to Promise Lodge.”

“And what of Christine's cows? When she meets a man to marry, will Roman lose his job when her husband takes over the dairy?” Mattie mused aloud. “And I can't see any fellow managing apartments for single women—just as I can't imagine Rosetta marrying anyone other than Truman.”

“If Floyd has his way, Ruby and Beulah will have to move out rather than continue to live in a setting he considers unnatural.” Amos exhaled slowly, his eyes upon the cream-colored sheep that were now skittering across the pasture ahead of Noah's dog. “In some ways, the bishop reminds me of Queenie—driving us this way and that at his whim, simply because he enjoys it . . . and because he can. But don't ever tell him I said that,” he added quickly.

“Of course I won't. I don't like being herded away from our original plans for Promise Lodge any better than you or my sisters do.” She let out a sigh. “I suppose it's wrong to pray for God to intervene with some sort of lightning bolt or unmistakable warning to make Floyd change his mind.”

Amos smiled. “Be careful what you pray for,” he quipped. “We take our chances when we ask God to do things our way—especially if it involves bringing someone hardship or disaster. And that's what it would take to make Bishop Floyd change his tune. A major disaster.”

“No, I don't want that,” Mattie quickly clarified. “But a little slap upside the head to let Floyd know he's going about things all wrong would be all right.”

“And who are we to say he's wrong? He's following the more conservative ways of the Old Order, after all—and God did choose him for our community.”

Mattie gazed up at Amos. “That's what it always comes down to, ain't so? The belief that our male leaders carry out God's purpose.”

Amos badly wanted to kiss away the resignation on Mattie's face. She was a steadfast, God-fearing woman who would never knowingly defy His will, and he wanted her to be happy—to be fruitful and multiply, whether that be by raising his children or by producing vegetables that made good use of the fertile soil she'd been blessed with.

“How about if we take a look at what's inside your picnic basket?” he asked softly. “All this serious talk's making me hungry.”

Mattie smiled as they turned around and headed back toward the buggy. “Are you saying that whenever I want to redirect opinions I don't like, I can just feed you?” she teased. “That seems easy enough.”

“The way to a man's heart is through his stomach,” Amos pointed out. “But then, you won my heart a long time ago, dear. You could probably put dirt clods and earthworms on my plate, and I'd be too caught up in my love for you to notice.”

Mattie's smile warmed him like the sunshine that filtered through the trees. “Today we've got fried chicken, dinner rolls, slaw, apple salad, and pumpkin pie. But I'll keep your idea about dirt clods and worms in mind, should I ever need to get your attention,” she teased.

Amos took the picnic basket from the buggy and handed her an old quilt to spread on the ground. “Oh, you've always got my attention,” he said with a chuckle. “And to keep
your
mind from wandering, how soon would you like to get married? If you want me to court you for a while, I'll be happy to—”

“November twenty-first,” Mattie replied without missing a beat.

Amos's heart turned a cartwheel. Her immediate answer suggested that she was even more eager to become his wife than he'd anticipated. “That's your birthday, as I recall,” he said while they sat down on the quilt. “It's not quite two weeks away. Will that give you ladies enough time to prepare for another wedding meal? I don't want you to feel I'm rushing you into this.”

Mattie chuckled as she took the lids from the bowls of slaw and apple salad. “You saw how well everyone worked together at Noah's and Deborah's party. And you and I have known each other for most of our lives, after all,” she pointed out. “Once I realized I was wrong to compare you to Marvin, or to assume marriage to you would be anything like the years I spent with him, everything fell into place and my heart fluttered open. I'm ready, Amos. I love you.”

“Oh, Mattie,” he whispered as he grabbed her hands. “We'll make a wonderful life together. You'll see!”

“We will,” Mattie murmured with a decisive nod. She squeezed his fingers as she returned his gaze, a gesture that suggested she wanted to hold on to him forever.

Sunlight shimmered on her dark hair and the breeze played with her long
kapp
strings. Mattie looked younger and happier than she had in years—even more beautiful than when he'd adored her as a young girl—and Amos knew he'd remember this special moment forever.

Chapter Six

Sunday afternoon, Rosetta lingered in the kitchen after the noon meal's dishes were done, hoping the phone would ring. Bishop Floyd had allowed her and her sisters and renters to keep the phone in the lodge kitchen because so many people shared it. Even so, it was silly to think Truman might return the message she'd left him only ten minutes earlier, because he often took his mother to afternoon activities at their Mennonite fellowship hall on Sundays. But the idea Rosetta wanted to discuss with him made her feel as bubbly as a bottle of soda somebody had shaken.

Rosetta still felt giddy after hearing the news. Mattie had come home from her picnic and announced that she and Amos planned to marry on the twenty-first—not even two weeks from today! Mattie's face had been aglow as she'd entered the lodge, and Amos had worn a smile that suggested the two of them had talked about many important issues, and perhaps had done a little smooching, as well. Rosetta thought it was wonderful that the two of them had rekindled the love they'd shared years ago. If anyone deserved a happy life with a steadfast, affectionate man, it was Mattie.

Rosetta reached for the folder of recipes she'd torn from
The Budget
and had jotted on odd scraps of paper. If she looked for something new to bake, at least she'd have a feasible reason to be in the kitchen—besides waiting for Truman to call. The Kuhn sisters were napping. Mattie had gone upstairs to share her news with Christine, Laura, and Phoebe. Preacher Marlin and his family were taking a walk around the Promise Lodge property to enjoy the fine fall weather, and all the Lehmans were spending the day at the bishop's new house. As winter approached and the ground got covered with snow, Rosetta suspected the lodge building wouldn't be as busy, because most folks would be eating meals and spending their evenings in their homes.

With Mattie moving to Amos's place, Rosetta was glad she'd have Ruby and Beulah for company this winter. She was a bit disappointed that more unattached Plain ladies hadn't written to say they'd move to—

The ring of the phone made Rosetta jump. She laughed as her recipes fluttered to the floor with the swish of her skirt. “
Jah
, hello?” she said as she grabbed the phone. “Promise Lodge Apartments. This is Rosetta speaking.”

A chuckle tickled her ear. “
Jah
, dearie, I'm old and alone and I'd like to rent a room at your place,” the caller said. Her voice had an odd timbre to it, as though this lady might've suffered some damage to her vocal chords.

“You're in luck,” Rosetta said. Maybe her prayer for more tenants was about to be answered! “We still have several rooms with nice views. We can convert them into apartments or—”

“I'll be right over to check them out,” Truman said in his normal voice. “But I suppose I'd have to wear a dress to live there, wouldn't I?”

Rosetta laughed at herself for not checking the caller ID number on the phone's screen—and then laughed at her mental image of the muscular landscaping designer in a cape dress and
kapp
. “
That
would give the bishop something to talk about!”

“But I doubt he'd come any closer to allowing us to court. You sounded excited when you left your message, Rosetta,” Truman continued in a low, intimate voice. “What's on your mind? I was glad to hear from you.”

“Well, we've learned that Amos and Mattie plan to marry on the twenty-first, so I thought—”

“Of November? Wow, they're moving things right along.”

“
Jah
,” Rosetta said, “but if you consider that Mattie got caught passing Amos notes when they were kids in school, that's at least forty years they've known each other. Once Mattie decided to put her previous marriage behind her, she became a different woman. She's happier than I've seen her in a
gut
long while.”

“That's all that matters. They're both wonderful people.”

“Which is why I'd like to throw them a party before the wedding,” Rosetta continued excitedly. “Mattie and Amos both cleaned out a lot of their old household stuff when we moved from Coldstream, so it's a perfect time to shower them with new towels and sheets, don't you think?”

“Or even furniture and rugs,” Truman suggested. “When I helped Amos carry his stuff from the shed, I was struck by how little he owned. Even though his new house is relatively small, the rooms seemed bare.”

“Mattie knew she'd be moving into an apartment when we came here, so she donated a lot of her household stuff to charity. So there you have it! We should plan for some happiness,” Rosetta insisted. “We haven't had a picnic since our fish fry this summer.”

“We can do that again, if you want. I'll bring my deep fryer, and we could even have a bonfire—burn off that pile of dead wood Roman and I cleared from the orchard.”

“And we'll make s'mores and roast hot dogs! And we can get out our mountain-pie irons,” Rosetta continued, loving the way this party was taking shape. “The Peterscheim boys and the Kurtz kids will love that! They've been fishing so much, we've frozen a
bunch
of fish fillets since the end of the summer. What better way to enjoy these final autumn days?”

“You're the hostess with the mostest,” Truman quipped, “and I welcome any opportunity to spend time with you, Rosetta. Pick a date and count me in.”

Pick a date and count me in.
Truman's words—and Mattie's afternoon announcement—made Rosetta wish she could pick her own wedding date . . . and then stand beside Truman as they exchanged their vows. For the near future, however, she would content herself with spending time with Truman in public situations, as friends.

“Are you still there, sweetheart?”

Rosetta blinked. It did funny, wonderful things to her heart when Truman used such endearments. “Oh,
jah
,” she murmured. “I'm not going anywhere, you know. Promise Lodge is my home, and I love it here.”

“Happy to hear that.”

She glanced out the kitchen window, wondering how to keep Truman on the line a little longer. “Now that the leaves have turned, it's as though Mother Nature has put away her summer clothes so she can wear Thanksgiving colors. Fall's my favorite season. What's yours?”

“Hmm. I like them all—for different reasons,” Truman replied softly. “Autumn's a beautiful time of year here, yet I love the sparkle of the sunshine on snow, as well. And just when I've grown tired of plowing the roads and keeping my clients' driveways cleared, along come the bright green shoots and leaves that signal springtime.”

Rosetta nodded. “I'm always glad to put away my coats and do the spring cleaning,” she said. “After spending a quiet winter inside, it feels
gut
to be outdoors again, barefoot in the freshly turned garden.”

“And now summertime will have a special feel to it because I met
you
then,” Truman continued softly. “It's my busiest season for landscaping, and my crews work long hours—but this year my jobs seemed to go faster, more smoothly, because I had your smile to look forward to whenever I stopped by.”

“Oh, Truman.” Rosetta drew a deep breath, closing her eyes. “No one's ever spoken to me this way.”

“No one's ever inspired me the way you have,” he said without missing a beat. “I believe God brought you here as a special gift, just for me, Rosetta. He hasn't shown me how to open this present yet—how to make you mine forever—but I trust that He will. The Lord I worship would never be so cruel as to open a beautiful new door without eventually leading me through it, into the next phase He has in mind for me.”

Rosetta thumbed a tear from her cheek. “
Denki
for sharing that thought, Truman,” she whispered. “You've given me fresh hope for our future. I can be more patient now.”

His chuckle caressed her ear. “I wish
I
could. But we're in this together,
jah?
For the long haul, I hope?”

“There's no one else for me.”

“Same here. I—I love you, Rosetta,” he murmured. “I intended to say that to your face the first time, but there it is. The truth will set us free.”

“Ohhh,” Rosetta murmured. Her body came alive with goose bumps and joy and crazy little sensations for which she had no words. She gripped the receiver with both hands, as though to hold on to this moment forever.

“I love you, too, Truman. I—I was engaged when I was twenty, to a fellow named Tim,” she continued. “But he fell from a tree and broke his neck—and took my hopes to the grave with him. Like a lot of Amish men, Tim wasn't one to express his feelings, so your words make me feel very special.”

“Well, you
are
.” Truman's soft laughter delighted her soul. “I've dated a few gals I thought I could make a life with, but the romance went south when they tried to take over my life and reset my priorities. You're wiser than that.”

“Puh! I'm older than you are, too,” Rosetta teased. “Maybe you should consider that before we take this any further. Maybe there's a reason I've been on the shelf for seventeen years.”

“You're thirty-seven to my thirty-three, as I recall?” he asked. “That's not even a blink of God's eye. It's not as though love has an expiration date, like groceries, you know.”

Rosetta chuckled. “I'm glad. I would've shriveled up long ago.”

Once again Truman's chuckle lifted her spirits. “I'm glad you called me,” he said. “Had no clue we'd share a life-changing conversation, but we've said what's in our hearts.”

“We have.”

“Let me know when we're having the party for Mattie and Amos. They've got nothing on us!”

“Let's do it Thursday evening. Sooner rather than later,” Rosetta suggested. “That gives us gals a week beyond that to plan for the wedding dinner.”

“See you then, if not before. Let me know what else I can do or bring.”

As she hung up the phone, Rosetta felt as giddy as a girl going on her first date. When she thought back to the Sunday evening Tim had asked to take her home from a Singing—his first display of romantic interest in her—she recalled her nervousness and Tim's shyness, which had resulted in an almost painful silence during their ride home. Most of their early dates had been group activities with the other youth in their church district, and even when Tim had found the nerve to take her out for rides in the countryside, he had remained reserved. He'd asked to court her, and then to marry her, by writing her two short but touching letters.

Rosetta still had Tim's letters tucked away in a special memento box Dat had carved for her. She didn't have to reread them to know that her relationship with Tim had been rather immature. Had he not died, however, she would've married him and been a steadfast wife.

Rosetta returned to the table and picked up the pieces of paper that lay scattered on the floor. With an outdoor party planned for Thursday evening, she chose recipes for pumpkin bread, butterscotch cashew bars, and other desserts that her friends would enjoy with their fried fish and hot dogs. She jotted down a list of ingredients they would need for mountain pies—toasted sandwiches made with bread, meat, and cheese, heated over a bonfire in a cast-iron pan similar to a long-handled waffle iron. Already she was anticipating the games they might play, the gifts she might give to Mattie and Amos . . . the time she would spend chatting with Truman, basking in his warm, gentle smile.

“You're here in the kitchen all by your lonesome, missy?”

“Gee, if we'd known you were having a recipe frolic, we would've shortened our naps.”

Rosetta turned to smile at Beulah and Ruby. “I'm anything but lonesome. I just got off the phone with Truman—”

“Aha! That explains the light in your eyes,” said Ruby.

“I liked that young fellow the first moment I saw him,” Beulah chimed in with a nod.

“—and we're planning a party by the lake for Mattie and Amos! A combination fish fry, bonfire, and wedding shower,” Rosetta continued in a lower voice. “And it wouldn't be the same without you ladies, of course. Let's keep the shower part a surprise, though.”

“Oh, but that sounds like fun!” Beulah said, clapping her hands.

“And an excuse to make all sorts of goodies,” Ruby remarked. “We can put together a basket of our cheeses and some jars of honey for the happy couple's gift—”

“With a handwritten certificate that's
gut
for all the cheese and honey they can eat for a year!”

Rosetta smiled. It was a treat to spend time with these
maidel
sisters because their enthusiasm was contagious. “The party is Thursday evening, and the wedding is set for the twenty-first—which is also Mattie's birthday,” she added. “We've got a lot of planning and celebrating to do!”