The Amish Christmas Kitchen (3 page)

C
HAPTER
4

“W
hose goat is that, Dan?”

Daniel spun from untying Blinks to stare down into the face of his ten-year-old
bruder,
Paul.

“Why aren't you in school?”

The
buwe
rubbed the outside of his black coat. “Bellyache.”

Daniel wanted to laugh. “Bellyache, hmm? How about that fractions test you were studying for last
nacht
after dinner?”

“That's why I got the bellyache. I'm goin' in ta see Mamm.”

“Whoa, little
bruder
. Mamm's out and we have a guest.” Daniel caught the
buwe
's shoulder gently.

The little pug nose turned up suspiciously. “A guest? Like the goat here?”

“This is Blinks. She belongs to Frau—uh—Widow Loftus, who is our guest. I was taking the goat in just now.”

Paul giggled. “Into Mamm's kitchen? She'll whoop ya fer sure. I gotta see this.”

Daniel ignored the premonition that his
bruder
was right and reasoned he'd have Blinks out as soon as he could. He led Paul and the goat around to the back entrance and carefully eased open the door, not wanting to startle Clara in some state of imagined undress
. Stop the fantasies, Kauffman. . . . Isn't it enough that you think she's beautiful, that you're doing the right thing for Seth, that you more than lo—
He silenced the voice in his head.
What was I about to say to myself? That I love Clara Loftus? I'm keeping a promise, that's all... a promise. . . .
He was so distracted by his thoughts that he let go of Blink's lead rope, then promptly tripped over it, to fall sprawling in his own kitchen, right at a pair of delicate, feminine bare feet....

* * *

Clara had struggled out of the wet layers of clothing, discovering that she was soaked to the skin. She bit her bottom lip and considered opening one of the finely carved cedar dresser drawers and borrowing a shift, but then decided on simply binding herself up in Frau Kauffman's housecoat, which happened to be a startling shade of pink. She tugged it off its peg on the wall and wound its voluminous folds around her waist, finding she could tie the long belt three times about herself. Thus girded, and feeling fairly confident that she could make it to the chair by the woodstove before Daniel got in, she tiptoed barefoot out of the bedroom.

She heard a sudden tussle at the back door, and Blinks's
baa
ing, and then Daniel came through the open wood to fall at her feet. Blinks neatly jumped over his sprawled form, and Clara froze as her bare toes nearly came in contact with his long chestnut hair.

Daniel lifted his head and looked up at her, and she wrapped her arms about herself, feeling as though his keen emerald eyes might see through the bulk of the housecoat. “Are you all right?” she asked, automatically reaching down to stroke Blinks's stiff fur with nervous fingers.

Then she watched as Paul Kauffman jumped on his
bruder
's broad back. “Gimme a ride, Dan!”

Clara stepped back as Daniel got to his hands and knees with a chuckle, then rose to his full height, his shoulders easily supporting the weight of his younger brother.
He'd make a
gut fater. . . . She took another step backward, horrified at her thought, and felt her face suffuse with color.

She saw Daniel eyeing her quizzically, one dark brow raised in question, even as he jostled Paul and she sank into the chair she felt at the backs of her knees.

“What is it?” he asked, and she shook her head in mute appeal.

He slid Paul to the ground, then came forward to hunch down at her knees. “Clara, really, are you all right? You look as though you might be starting a fever.”

Jah
. . . this is a fever . . . in my blood . . . for you. . . .
She stared helplessly at his mouth, wondering how it would be to test the contours and firmness of his perfectly shaped lips, then hastily looked away at the cream-colored wall.

She almost jumped when he laid a firm hand against her brow and then her cheek.

“Hmmm . . .” he murmured. “You are hot. Perhaps we should call for your sister to
kumme
and check you over?”

Clara swallowed and smoothed the fabric of the robe over her knees. “
Nee
. I'm fine. Um . . . maybe just . . . a glass of water?”

He frowned. “Of course. I'm being thoughtless.... I'll make you some tea.”

He got to his feet, and she watched him out of the corner of her eye as he easily navigated the kitchen as if it was second nature to him.

“I've heard some folks say you're odd, Widow Loftus. What's that mean?”

Clara turned to look at Paul and took in his wide, innocent green eyes and gap-toothed mouth. She was about to respond when Daniel snapped at his
bruder
.

“Paul—let her be. Go on out to the store and help Daed for a bit.”

“
Nee,
” Clara countered with a half laugh. “He's fine. Let me answer. After all, how many women
kumme
to the store with a goat?”

“Not many,” Paul concluded, reaching out to pet Blinks.

“You're right,” she said softly, liking the child's forthrightness. “I'm not odd, really, Paul. I'm just . . . lonely at times.”

“Then why do you stay up in that cabin all by yourself 'cept for the goat?”

She wet her lips, aware that Daniel was listening as he waited for the kettle to boil. “Because it's my home and I like it—sort of. I can talk to the trees and listen to the snow fall.... It's beautiful really.”

Paul scrunched up his pert nose. “Mebbe you are odd, after all—talkin' ta trees.”

“All right, little
bruder,
” Daniel said. “Out.” He handed her a cup and saucer of fragrant lavender tea and sighed as Paul scampered off. “I'm sorry about that. He means no harm.”

“I know,” she said, taking a quick sip of the hot tea. She choked and he patted her back. She could feel the warmth of his large hand even through the thickness of the pink fabric. Her cup rattled in its saucer and she set it on the table carefully. She was about to suggest that she had dried enough when the back door banged open once more.

Clara heard Daniel's faint groan; then he spoke.

“Hello, Mamm. You know Clara Loftus. . . .”

Clara rose and tried to smile into Frau Kauffman's kind but speculative eyes. “Hello.”

The older woman nodded, then frowned at Daniel. “Why is that goat in my clean kitchen?”

* * *

“All in all, I think that went rather well. Don't you?” Daniel tightened the reins a bit, and the cheerful jangle of sleigh bells rang out in the snowy afternoon. He glanced at Clara and hid a smile. Her beautiful mouth was set in a straight line, and she was studiously glaring at the landscape in front of them.

“
Nee,
” she said finally. “I do not think it went well.”

He laughed then, a full belly laugh that made him feel good for the first time in a long time. She turned baleful gray eyes upon him, and he hastily contained his mirth.

“You enjoyed that,” she accused.

“What? You mean, you sitting in my
mamm
's pink housecoat in the middle of—how many people was it?”

“Six,” she snapped tightly. “Not counting us.”

Blinks grunted from her position beneath the lap robe, and Daniel had to stifle another laugh.

Clara's frown deepened. “Blinks is correct. Six people and three—unusual—goats. I cannot begin to think what your
mamm
must feel about me.”

“
Ach,
so Clair Bitner came around the back of the
haus
for once with his goat's milk to sell.... Of course, it makes sense that Benny, Scruffy and Teddy smelled one of their own kind and had to make an appearance. I think Blinks enjoyed the company. Besides, my
mamm
likes you.”

“How do you know?”

He waved a dismissive hand. “She likes everybody.”

Clara sighed aloud and he leaned over to give her a spontaneous nudge with his shoulder. “And you know your sister, Sarah, was just concerned for your well-being.”

“
Ach,
sure, and Edward, her big-bodied husband, simply had to
kumme
along.”

Daniel nodded. “And they couldn't leave the kids at home. Then Sarah must have mentioned it when she passed Bishop Umble's, who himself only wanted to ask again for some of your, um—second best—I mean, pralines.”

She ignored his teasing. “Which, come to think of it, your
fater
wouldn't let me pay for when he came in.”

“Yep, and the whole crowd was bound to have woken Da on the couch, and what's a rousing lunch party without Auld Sol Kauffman, I'd like to know?”

He saw the corner of her mouth lift a bit, and his heart kindled inside his chest. “
Ach,
don't smile, Clara Loftus. That would truly be a crime after the way you held sway in my
mamm
's housecoat. You were . . . captivating.”

He saw her smile edge back into a frown, and he could have kicked himself. “
Slow . . . Gotta take it slow with Clara. . . .”

He cleared his throat in the cold air. “So, since you reassured the bishop you'd bake for his gathering tomorrow
nacht,
I was wondering if I might
kumme
pick you up.” He paused, thinking fast.
Riled. Get her riled up. . . .
“Unless you plan on backing out? I mean, my raisin-filled cookies, when warm, are absolutely the best things you've ever—”

“Six o'clock will suit me fine.” She sniffed. “But only because I want my praline cookies to be at their . . . I mean . . .
Jah, danki
, in advance, for the ride.”

He hid a grin and eased the horse and sleigh around a snowdrift. “No thanks needed. It'll be my pleasure.”

C
HAPTER
5

“W
hat do you mean, he asked you to warm up?”

Sarah's voice was excited, and Clara blew out a breath of exasperation as she tried to concentrate on measuring sugar. “How did you get up here so fast? I just saw you at the store, and I told you—I'm fine.”

Her older sister waved away her words with an impatient hand. “I know, but I want some details. I couldn't hear a thing in all the ruckus of the Kauffman kitchen . . . so, tell me! You know Daniel Kauffman is absolutely beautiful and—”

Clara gave her a sour smile. “I thought you were happily married.”

“The idea is to get
you
happily married . . . again, of course.”

“Of course.”

“
Ach, kumme
on, Clara, he's perfect for you, and the girls have been after him for years. Maybe he finds you . . . mysterious, up here on the mountain alone, with a goat, and—”

“All right—” Clara slammed the tin measuring cup onto the table. “That's enough. I've got to bake.”

Sarah flounced into a wooden chair. “You do not. You just don't want to think about what life might look like with someone other than Seth.”

“From anyone else, I'd consider that hurtful.”

“I'm not trying to hurt you, my love. I only want you to have joy again . . . to have the abundant life Derr Herr wants for you. And if Daniel Kauffman would ask you to marry him, then—”

“He already did,” Clara mumbled.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Clara saw Sarah stand up and come 'round the table and soon found herself squashed in a full embrace. “Sarah . . . I can't breathe. . . .”

Her sister pulled back to smile with delight. “We'll have a winter wedding.... Perhaps Bishop Umble would even allow a Christmastime wedding!
Ach,
Clara, I'm so happy for you!”

“I told him no.”

“You what?”

Clara frowned. “I told him
nee
. Look, it was two years ago, all right? Two years, Sarah . . . The week after Seth died, and I didn't . . . I couldn't.”

Clara saw her sister's eyes fill with tears. “I understand,” Sarah whispered softy. Clara felt her lean forward and place a gentle kiss on her forehead; then she eased away.

Clara drew a deep breath; she knew her sister. Despite her tears, Sarah wasn't going to let this go, and she tried to ready herself for another round of questions by counting out pecans with unsteady hands. But to Clara's surprise, her sister merely gathered her heavy cloak and moved to the door.

“I'll see you tomorrow at the bishop's.”

Clara nodded, watching her go, then swiped angrily at a stray tear that suddenly fell from her eyes. “Two years . . .” she muttered aloud, feeling Blinks press against her skirts. “Two years is too long.” The goat made a small sound of commiseration, and Clara went back to resolutely counting pecans.

* * *

The following morning, Daniel rose early to bake before he went to work that day. His plan was to get the raisin-filled cookies done before the
kinner
woke up. Then he would take the cookies with him over to Joe King's woodworking shop to save them from being devoured.

“I should have known better,” he groaned to himself when he heard the patter of small feet coming downstairs.

It was Paul, still clad in his
nacht
shirt and somehow managing to look both endearing and mischievous at the same time. The
buwe
clambered onto the bench by the table and gave Daniel a wide grin. “You startin' to make Christmas cookies, Dan?”

“
Nee.
”

“You bakin' for that woman and her goat, then?”

Daniel felt himself flush unaccountably but had to smile. “
Nee
. I'm trying to outbake her.”

Paul pulled a face and casually snatched a plump raisin from the bowl. “What'cha mean?”

“Stay out of the filling.... I mean, that I want to—well, sort of rile her up a bit by proving that I'm a better baker than she is.”

“You love her,” Paul stated flatly, shaking his head as if Daniel was lost at sea.

Daniel sank down on the bench beside his
bruder,
automatically beginning to roll out the dough. “I do not love her,” he whispered in case anyone else decided to make a sudden appearance in the kitchen.

Paul raised a minute brow. “Uh-huh.”

“Look, I like her, okay? That's all. And since when have you become such an expert on . . . love?”

The child shrugged and snagged a piece of dough. “I jest know. It's like we learn in church—ya tell the truth about what you know. And I know that you love that lady who talks to trees . . . and goats.”

Daniel frowned, staring down into the resolute little face, then he shook his head. “Go back to bed before Mamm catches you up this early.”

“Naw. I might as well get dressed and start my chores before school. Thanks fer talkin', Dan.”

Daniel couldn't resist returning the hug Paul threw at him, and he thanked
Gott
for having a little
bruder
who wasn't afraid to tell the truth.

* * *

Clara told herself that she was being ridiculous when she checked her dress for the fourth time in the
auld
mirror above her dresser. She'd chosen to wear a cheerful dark green blouse beneath her dress and knew that the color did something for the paleness of her skin. As a widow, she did have to avoid the paler pastel colors, but the
gut
Bishop Umble was even lenient in this regard, so she knew he wouldn't mind what she was wearing.
But will Daniel notice?

She scowled in the mirror and tried to push away the thought, but there was no denying that the man had gotten under her skin somehow. She sighed aloud, then nearly jumped when the sound of muffled, merry sleigh bells rang from outside. She hurried to swing on her cloak when there was a brisk knock at the door.

She opened it and gazed up at Daniel's ruddy handsomeness. He'd taken his hat off, and his chestnut hair caught the light from the lantern and shone with faint strands of red.

“Hello,” he said with a smile, breaking into her wayward thoughts.

“Hello. I'm—uh—ready,” she announced, tugging on her bonnet.

He reached a hand up to graze her cheek, and she had the ridiculously exciting notion that he might be preparing to kiss her when he tucked her
kapp
string within the confines of her bonnet. “Are you really ready?” he asked in a husky tone and she nodded, flushing . . . hoping.

“
Nee,
you're not,” he declared with a whimsical smile, and she felt herself look at him blankly. “You need your cookies, right? Unless you've decided to bow out gracefully?”

She felt her flush deepen, and she spun on her heel to grab the tinfoil-wrapped platter from the kitchen table. She turned back to face him just as Blinks chose that moment to butt her unflatteringly from behind, and she watched in dismay while the platter went flying.

Daniel caught it with remarkable deftness and she gasped in relief.

“No worries. I couldn't let my competition lose out so unfairly. And”—he held up a hand when she would have made some rejoinder—“I need to let you know that we Kauffmans always let everyone assume that the cookies or whatever might be baked
kumm
from Mamm—not me.”

She took her platter from his outstretched hand and gave him a saucy smile. “I have never truly seen you bake.”

He bowed his head in acknowledgment, then put his hat on. “That's a situation we'll have to remedy sometime . . . if you'd like?”

His question hung in the frosty air, warm and inviting.

She lowered her lashes, then looked at him directly. “I'd like.”

“
Gut,
” he said briskly. “And I imagine Blinks comes tonight, too?”

“If you don't mind?”

He looked down at her, and she thought he was going to say something teasing, but instead he merely smiled and widened the door for her goat.

* * *

“Absolutely . . . You have absolutely outdone yourself, Esther. These raisin cookies are superb!” Bishop Umble made the declaration with obvious pleasure, and Daniel shot a grin in Clara's direction.

He found her to be as beautiful and tantalizing to his senses as the coming Christmas season could be, and he was still warm inside from the closeness of their sleigh ride down from the high timber.

“So, Daniel, have you tried Clara's cookies?” Sarah King asked, coming up beside him. “My little sister is a
wunderbar
baker.”

Daniel smiled, easing the cut-glass cup of punch that he held from one hand to the other as he greeted Ice Mountain's local healer and her husband, Edward King. “She is, indeed,” Daniel agreed, shaking Edward's hand.

“We have to thank you again for offering her the chance to warm up yesterday,” Sarah said, giving Edward a none-too-circumspect poke in the ribs, but the big man, as usual, seemed to have difficulty dragging his attention from his wife.

“It was my pleasure,” Daniel said, noting that Clara was fast approaching through the pleasant throng gathered, almost as if she was afraid that her big sister might be talking about her. “And here's Clara now,” he murmured warmly. “We were just discussing your baking—er—talents.”

He had to hide a grin at the frown she threw in his direction, but she recovered nicely when Bishop Umble joined them, a praline cookie in his hand.

“Mmmm . . . mmmm, Widow Loftus. I have to tell you that your pralines are a perfect match for Daniel's
mamm
's raisin-filled cookies. Both simply delightful!”

Daniel secretly thrilled to the arch look Clara gave him, then cleared his throat. “I'm sure we—uh—Mamm might not be put out by a cookie bake off of sorts, Bishop Umble.”

The
auld
man's blue eyes twinkled in sudden delight. “What an excellent thought, Daniel! Indeed, I'm sure all the ladies hereabouts would enjoy such a thing. Now, let me think of a
gut
cause. . . .”

“Why the school, of course,” Daniel heard Clara declare sweetly, while her eyes shot daggers in his direction. “Perhaps we might offer the
buwes
cooking classes?”

Daniel hastily joined in the round of good-natured laughter as he noticed Clara did, as well.
The little minx . . . She can give as
gut
as she gets!

Bishop Umble stroked his beard as the laughing trailed off. “I do think the school is a
gut
idea, though. Although the community provides teaching supplies, there's always some new book Jude Lyons wants the
kinner
to read. In fact, I'll talk to him about having the cookie bake off on the
nacht
of the school Christmas play.”

“
Wunderbar
idea,” Daniel agreed, noticing that he spoke nearly in time with Clara's similar words.

The bishop shot a glance between them, then smiled a gentle smile. “There's a storm brewing, so I hear, Daniel, up in the high timber. So, if you've a mind to take Clara home tonight, you may want to leave early.”

“Of course, sir. Sarah and Edward, I'll see Clara safely home, I promise.”

Edward spoke up idly. “We can take her, Dan.”

Daniel had to conceal another smile as Edward received his second poke of the evening from his petite wife.

“We're grateful, Daniel,” Sarah said in clear tones.

“
Jah,
very grateful,” Clara declared, but he knew that there'd be fireworks on the sled ride home if he gauged her temper right, and he looked forward to the cold
nacht
with abject pleasure.