The Amish Christmas Kitchen (21 page)

Emma hesitated, touching her pointer finger to her cheek. “But if it's a real commitment, of course, the revenue will materialize.”

Marvin offered a firm shake of his head. “Not necessarily. Call me the world's greatest pessimist, and they do, but I don't think it's realistic to plan for a hundred percent of the money we were promised to get.”

The statement nearly stopped Emma's heart. “What do you mean?”

He gave an effortless lift of his shoulders. “Just what I said.”

While Emma considered his non-reassuring words, Mamma stepped in. “Of course everyone will contribute. The whole state is rootin' for that poor little kid to get well. How could you even doubt that each and every commitment would come through?”

He squinted at the ground before meeting Mamma's gaze. “It's hard to say. But we're human. And what I've learned over my sixty-some years is to keep my expectations low. This afternoon, I caught a conversation between a couple of young folk. One of them mentioned that he was borrowing money to contribute to the cause and he sure hoped his buddy wouldn't let him down.”

Emma's heart nearly sank.

At the look on her face, the tone of Marvin's voice turned more sympathetic. “I'm just saying that there might be some who promised more than they could afford. That's all. People got good intentions, ya know. When they signed up to give money, it's only a pledge. Not a legally binding contract.”

Emma's thoughts were too chaotic for her own good. She pulled in a desperate breath and wished she'd never met up with Marvin or suffered through this dismal conversation.

When Emma and her mamma remained unresponsive, Marvin went on. “Keep saying your prayers, Emma.” He looked down at his black shoes. When he lifted his chin, Emma saw that his gray-blue eyes had filled with moisture.

What she glimpsed brought tears to her own eye. At that moment, she realized that stress had gotten the best of her. She had been too hard on Marvin. She realized that his gruff exterior was misleading. Looking at his sincere expression now, she was sure that he wanted the auction to be a success. For several moments, she had lost her faith. And she regretted it with all of her heart.

Marvin wasn't the cause of her stress. The issue was that the verdict still wasn't out on how much this very important charitable event had actually raised. And Emma didn't know how much longer she could stand the uncertainty of not knowing whether or not little Amos would get his lifesaving operation.

She sighed relief when Marvin finally nodded good-bye. After his departure, Emma and Mamma locked gazes. Mamma's voice was unusually soft. “Honey, God answers prayers. And I just know He'll answer ours. But the waiting . . . it's so hard.”

Emma gave a frustrated shake of her head. “Mamma, do you believe what he said about people not following through with their promises?”

For a moment, Mamma looked away and pressed her lips together as if making a difficult decision. Finally, she turned back to Emma and reached for her hands. Emma closed her eyes, relishing the warmth and reassurance Mamma's touch offered.

Emma forced a calm breath and focused on the positives of the event. There were so many, she couldn't count them.

“Thank goodness, Cousin Sarah is on the revenue committee. We don't need to worry, honey. God will do His will.”

“I know, Mamma. I've no doubt that she'll follow up on every single donation. So will the rest of her team.” Emma glanced at the small portable clock on the one remaining chair. The ticking sound made an even beat. Above, the sun edged to the far west, and Emma realized how quickly the day had passed.

“Soon, the numbers will be out. We should have an update anytime.”

Mamma nodded. “
Jah
. Good thing we've got an efficient crew on it.”

When Emma looked at her to continue, Mamma waved a hand. “I mean, the money's coming in so many ways. Check. Cash. Wire transfers.”

“It's a lot to keep track of. But can you believe that someone is giving a hundred thousand dollars to save little Amos?”

Mamma gave an uncertain shrug. “I wonder who it is.”

C
HAPTER
5

T
he following day, the enticing aroma of home-baked cookies floated through the Troyer home. Emma slid a new batch into the oven, closed the door, and turned at the sound of Jonathan's footsteps.

To her surprise, contentment edged his voice. “The auction was a great success, Emma. Thought you'd want to know that I've scheduled Amos's surgery for the end of December.”

A huge grin lifted the corners of Emma's lips. “Great.”

Jonathan lowered his pitch to a more serious tone. “Emma, there's something I'd like you to know.”

As the fire in the living room popped, Emma claimed the nearest seat at the kitchen table and looked at him to go on. The room smelled of a combination of cookies and a cinnamon candle.

He took a chair a few feet away.

“I was wrong when I asked you to stop the auction. I'm sorry.”

Her jaw dropped. She tapped her pointer finger to an uncertain beat against the oak tabletop while she waited for an explanation.

“Emma, I strive to be like my dad. And those are big shoes to fill. I've told you that he was proud. And he instilled in me how important it is to provide for my family.”

He paused to smile a little. “I know that we Amish folk are a humble group. But I'm flawed, Emma. And like my father, I try to be self-sufficient. And the surgery?”

He pushed out a deep breath. “I felt like I wasn't doing my job as a good provider. That I needed to step it up, but I didn't know how. To be blunt, I felt like I'd failed. That Dad would be disappointed in me. And that was something I didn't know how to deal with.”

His confession took Emma off guard. A short silence ensued while she processed his words.

Sympathy edged her voice when she finally found her words. “Jonathan, I'm sorry you were put in that position. And I appreciate your honesty. I'm so glad you trust me enough to confide something so personal.”

Pressing his lips together, he offered a slight nod.

“But you're anything but a failure. And I know in my heart that your daddy would be proud of you.”

His eyes glistened with moisture.

After a long pause, he offered an appreciative nod. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Emma.”

“I'm glad you came to me with this, because now I have a better understanding of why you tried to stop the fund-raiser.” She threw her hands in the air in a helpless gesture. “When you tried to explain your pride before, I don't think I really realized how deeply you felt.”

“Of course I didn't want to stop the surgery. I just felt like I wasn't much of a man, having to depend on strangers to foot the bill. And I'm a private person, Emma.”

“I know you are, Jonathan.”

“Finally, after some deep soul-searching, I realized my real issues. And, Emma, I owe you so much for helping me to see this opportunity as a blessing.”

She swallowed an emotional knot.

He cleared his throat. “There's something else that really makes me choke up. That anonymous donor. A hundred thousand dollars.” He whistled.

“It was Sam Beachy, you know. There was no way that something that big could stay a secret.”

“The old widower?”

She nodded. “The famous hope chest maker himself.”

Suddenly, Jonathan's demeanor changed. Smiling, he lifted his chin a notch, stood, and turned. As he left the room, he glanced back at her. “Thought I owed you that.”

After he was gone, the house creaked. Whenever the wind picked up speed, the old boards reacted. The sound reminded Emma of a squeaky buggy wheel.

But Emma's mind returned to the auction. And to Old Sam. Emma's heart warmed at the thought of him. He was kind to everyone whom he came into contact with.

As she opened the gas oven, she stepped back to allow the strong surge of heat to dissipate. Little Amos rushed to the warm spot and wrapped his arms around his tiny chest. “That feels good, Emmie.”

Pulling the metal sheet from the oven, she glanced at him and removed her baking mitt. In his stocking feet, his trousers were rolled up a notch. As usual, his beautiful mass of hair needed to be combed. She smiled a little, seriously doubting that the temperature change was the reason for Amos's sudden appearance. It was no secret that he liked being close to the cookies.

“
Jah
. It certainly does.”

He moved to where she'd laid the hot treats and shrugged. “You know why this is my favorite room?” Before she could guess, he answered his own question. “ 'Cause it smells like cookies. Emmie, I have a question.”

As she eyed him, his brows drew together in an uncertain frown. “Can we have these all year round? Even in the summer?”

While she considered his innocent question, she slid the hot desserts onto a plate. As she transferred the very last star, she offered him a nod.

“I don't see why not.”

Without wasting time, she scooped tablespoons of raw dough onto the sheets. When she'd filled the tray, she reopened the oven to slide the new batches inside. Amos closed his eyes in delight. After closing the door, she stepped away and took him by the arm.

“Let's chat.”

Obediently, he sat next to her at the table. Automatically, she shoved aside a pile of unopened mail. “Besides, I'm ready for a break.”

She rested her hands on her hips and sat up straighter. “Did you finish your English homework?”

He pressed his lips together and gave a proud nod.

“Good. Now . . . you were asking about Christmas cookies in the summer?”

He offered a quick nod.

She shrugged and contemplated his question. “I don't see why not.”

“Yeah, 'cause cookies are good all year round.”

She smiled at his logic, fully aware of how much Amos appreciated the treats. And no doubt, the sweet child would do whatever he could to convince her to bake them every single day of the year. She hadn't neglected noticing that he'd put on a few pounds since she'd started tutoring him.

She reasoned the best she could. “Cookies aren't seasonal.”

He gave a strong shake of his head while she paused to rest her hands on her thighs. Then she snapped her fingers.

“Tell you what. I have an idea. I'll bake them in the summer. But we won't cut them into ornaments. Maybe we can do other shapes.”

To her surprise, Amos gave another shake of his head. He crossed his arms over his chest; the expression in his eyes was that of sheer determination. “I want them to look just like the ones you sold to raise money for me.” He wrinkled his nose. “They won't taste the same if they don't.”

The honest confession pulled at Emma's heartstrings. Amos was tenacious, that was for sure. He tugged at Emma's long sleeves. “Emmie, please?”

Before she could respond, Jonathan's deep voice interrupted them. Emma and Amos turned at the same time.

The worry crease on Jonathan's forehead was much less noticeable. His cheeks were flushed from being outside. But it was his eyes that offered the most change.

She lifted an inquisitive brow, noticing that they were filled with a newfound acceptance. Should she dare to believe it? Satisfaction edged his voice. She contemplated his change in demeanor and smiled relief. Emma liked him better like this.

For some reason, today he seemed taller. Jonathan lifted a set of calloused palms to the ceiling. As he started to speak, she took in his features. Muscles tried to push their way out of his shirt. And his everyday denim pants fit him as if they'd been custom-made.

His nose wasn't perfect; he certainly wasn't pretty. But it showed character. A light scar on his chin only added to his tough, take-charge nature. All in all, his rugged features cried out that what Jonathan Troyer attempted, he accomplished—and that he preferred to do it on his own.

“We've got to celebrate.”

The corners of Emma's mouth lifted another notch.

Before offering the boy a gentle pat on his shoulder, Jonathan shrugged acceptance.

“I can't stop thinking about the surgery. To be honest, I find it hard to believe.”

Without wasting time, Amos bounded up from his sitting position and threw his arms around the older Troyer in a tight, warm hug.

Emma swallowed an emotional knot. Her chest ached with happiness whenever she glimpsed such a strong bond between family. As Amos released his hold, he looked up at Jonathan.

Amos's voice bubbled with excitement. “In that last book Emmie gave me, there's a party after the doctor fixes the little boy's feet.” Amos added, “There's balloons and lots of treats!”

Jonathan's lips curved in amusement. The green flecks on his pupils danced.

Emma grinned at both brothers. Amos took the books she gave him to heart, that was for sure. She loved making him happy. And Jonathan? She was relieved that he'd changed his mind about the donations. And she was happy to have played a role in helping him to see the auction as a blessing.

Emma eyed Jonathan with curiosity. “You're right, Amos. We should do something,” she offered with enthusiasm. “God has given us good plenty of reasons to be grateful. And I've been thanking Him.”

She crossed her legs at the ankles and leaned forward. “It's hard to believe, but the money came in.” Excitement edged her voice. “The fund-raiser couldn't have gone better. Now, we should enjoy the fruits of our work! But how?”

She glanced at the Troyer men. “What would you like to do?”

Jonathan eyed the oven before turning his attention to Emma. “I take it you've got another round of cookies in there?”

“
Jah
.”

Jonathan stepped closer to the oven and nodded satisfaction. “And we know they'll taste good. Right, Amos?”

Amos clapped his hands.

Jonathan cupped his chin and turned to Amos. “I have an idea.”

Amos stood perfectly still. Emma wasn't sure, but she thought she could hear his jubilant heart pound with anticipation. The boy's eyes doubled in size as he looked up eagerly at Jon. At the same time, Emma glanced at him to continue. What did he have in mind?

As the fireplace continued putting out heat several arm lengths' away, a loud
pop
made them startle. They looked in the direction of the noise before returning their attention to the party idea.

Jonathan wagged his hands in the air. “How 'bout we go for a buggy ride and take the cookies?”

Emma giggled. The fun-sounding plan surprised her. Especially hearing it from the gruff character who'd thought of it.

Without wasting time, Amos jumped up and down. Jonathan nodded approval. “I'll take that as a yes.” He turned to Emma. But when he spoke, he lowered his voice with uncertainty. “Will you come with us? The celebration wouldn't be complete without you.”

To her surprise, the question was posed without conviction. Since when did Jonathan Troyer lack confidence? Suddenly, she realized that he was waiting for her to respond.

With enthusiasm, she offered a small lift of her shoulders. “Of course! How could I refuse a buggy ride?”

* * *

The midafternoon late December sun played hide-and-seek. Visible or invisible, the chilly temperature stayed the same. At times, Emma was amazed how homes could withstand such winds. It surprised her that they didn't blow over. At times, the sun appeared proudly in the sky.

But as quickly as it shone, it slipped behind marshmallow-looking clouds that floated like boats on a lake. Amos sat between Jonathan and Emma. While the horse's hooves clomped at an uneven beat, Emma sighed contentment and rested her hands on her lap.

She'd always loved horse-drawn carriage rides. She especially enjoyed the homey, familiar ambience inside of the buggy. The homemade knit blanket on the bench . . . the smell of horses. The sound and pace of clopping.

But today, the mode of transportation smelled unusually good. The sweet scent of iced cookies filled the small cabin. In the distance, Emma glimpsed another buggy headed for town.

Cold weather didn't keep her Amish community inside. There were too many chores. Feeding livestock. Milking cows. Amos removed three cookies from the plastic container. The lid made a popping noise as it came off.

With a quick flash of his hand, he gave one to Emma. Then to Jonathan.

Jonathan chuckled. “This is the first time I've celebrated by eating in the buggy.”

“Don't you think it's fun?” Amos's small voice bubbled with contentment as he downed a bite.

Jonathan lifted a brow and glanced at his brother. He talked in a silly voice. “I'd be crazy if I didn't like it, wouldn't I?”

Amos giggled. Emma joined him. Still pleasantly surprised by Jonathan's change in attitude, it was hard not to laugh when this tall, strong, gruff man with so much responsibility on his shoulders acted like a kid. And she enjoyed it.

Emma took a bite of her iced star and nodded satisfaction as Amos pointed to the house down the street. “That's where Jake lives.”

Emma straightened with interest. “Jake? The boy you're always talking about?”

Amos gave a big nod. With one swift motion, he shifted in his seat. His feet didn't quite touch the floor, and he swung them back and forth. “After my heart gets fixed, we're gonna play together. And he said that I can be ‘it' first.”

Emma's heart melted as she imagined the small child next to her running and laughing as he played. Things kids did and took for granted. But little Amos had never experienced such privileges before. And that was about to change.