Christmas at Promise Lodge (25 page)

“So the bishop here is laid up, as well? And he's in worse shape than you are?” Simon asked as he raked his red hair back from his face.

Amos nodded, grateful for a topic that didn't require any remorse on his part—or did it? “I couldn't believe it when Floyd rushed over with his arms out,” Amos murmured. “In fact, I thought he was talking crazy, demanding that God send angels to catch me. I—I owe Floyd more favors than I can count for the way he risked his own safety on my behalf. He had a stroke shortly after our accident, and he might never recover the use of his left side, or his ability to speak.”

And I'd better find a way to make amends and make myself useful to his family
, Amos thought.

“You don't suppose Obadiah Chupp will want to move here and take Floyd's place, do you?” Bernice teased with a sparkle in her dark eyes.

Amos laughed out loud. “We had a run-in with Bishop Obadiah, concerning Isaac and Deborah Peterscheim—who's now married to Noah Schwartz,” he added to update them. “I don't see the Chupps coming here, but Preacher Eli's family has joined us, and we've welcomed Preacher Marlin Kurtz and his family from Iowa, along with Bishop Floyd's brother, Lester, who's bringing his family back with him next spring.”

“Sounds like Promise Lodge has more than its share of preachers,” Allen remarked under his breath.

“And it won't hurt you one little bit to associate with fellows who're serving God, living responsible lives, little brother,” Barbara said as she carefully set a tray of filled coffee mugs on the end table. She handed Amos the first mug, letting her hands linger on his.

“Dat, when you called and said you hoped we kids could forgive you, I didn't know what to think,” she said softly. “Bernice and I listened to your message again and again, and honestly, it's we girls who need to apologize.”

“We should've kept writing to you after Mamm passed,” Bernice continued earnestly, “but we got caught up in our married lives and—and we didn't know what to say, what with her being gone.”

“It's a poor excuse,” Barbara insisted as she cupped her hands around Amos's, “and we told Sam and Simon that the only true way to apologize was to come and see you. So they closed the nursery for the rest of the year, and here we are.”

Amos's heart was thumping so hard he couldn't speak for a moment. “You girls were always closer to your
mamm
, but I really should've been better at keeping in touch. I was pretty harsh at times while you were growing up, and not always very kind to your mother, either—”

“Oh, Dat, how can you say that?” Bernice asked. She rose from the sofa to join her sister, slipping her arm around Amos's shoulders. “Mamm seemed perfectly happy to me, always humming while she worked around the house and looked after us. We lacked for nothing while we were growing up, and—well, we weren't exactly angels. We needed a firm word now and again.”

“
Didn't
we, Allen?” Barbara challenged as she gazed at her brother. “After all the talking we did on this subject during the ride to Missouri, don't you dare leave Dat hanging, thinking it was his fault that you left home.”

Amos didn't know what to say. Scenes from his vivid dreams of Anna replayed in his mind. He clearly recalled his wife telling him he cared more for the horses than he did for her—and that he'd been a lousy husband for abandoning her when the twins were born. And in the next dream, Allen had said a few choice words before he'd walked out, too. Yet his girls didn't seem to believe their childhood had been particularly difficult or onerous.

Allen sighed loudly and began handing mugs of coffee to Sam and Simon—as a diversion, Amos sensed. His son had never been one to express his feelings or to apologize.

Amos smiled ruefully. Allen had matured into a ruggedly handsome young man with dark hair and penetrating brown eyes. He would probably remain rough around the edges until some young woman took pity on him and agreed to be his wife—which meant Allen would either join the Old Order or marry someone of a different faith, a thought that twisted an imaginary knife in Amos's gut.

When Allen had resumed his seat and taken a noisy slurp of his coffee, he gazed directly at Amos. To Amos, it was like looking in a mirror from when he'd been in his early twenties. And in some ways it was a painful reminder of what an
attitude
he'd had back then, too.

“It was mostly Chupp I couldn't stomach,” Allen said in a low voice. “And
jah
, after Mamm died I wasn't much on being in that house without her, so I took off to become my own man. Not that I've been hugely successful at it.”

Amos's eyebrows rose. It had taken considerable courage for Allen to admit that he'd not done as well as he'd hoped. “What're you doing these days, son?” he asked softly. “You had the aptitude to take up any trade you set your sights on.”

Allen's face registered surprise. “Could've fooled me,” he murmured. “I took some course work in plumbing and electricity, figuring I'd be able to hire on with English contractors. But come time to take the licensing exams, I . . . I chickened out.”

Amos bit back a remark about how Allen would have no use for knowledge of electricity if he joined the Amish Church—which was exactly what Preacher Amos would've said a few years ago. Something in his son's tone made Amos listen more carefully, hearing the fear and insecurity Allen wouldn't have owned up to when he'd lived at home. “So you've learned a lot of useful skills, but you're not officially a plumber or an electrician?” he asked gently. “What's stopping you, son? I always figured you'd take on a trade I never had the smarts to master.”

With a short laugh, Allen shook his head. “Remember how I learned math and reading well enough when I was a scholar, but come time to take big tests, everything I knew flew out the window?” he asked sheepishly. “Well, I didn't want to pay the fees and show up for the licensing tests only to flunk out. So I didn't go. I've been getting a few jobs with fellows I took those classes with, but they can't let me work on the commercial jobs because I'm not licensed.”

Amos felt terribly sorry for his son, just as he'd agonized over the way Allen's poor grades in the Coldstream school had never reflected his true intelligence. What could he say to fix this dilemma? Amos recalled chiding and chastising Allen when he was younger, but that approach hadn't worked, had it? His boy still lacked confidence when it came to written tests. Allen still feared failure.

“If you were to stay in Promise a while, maybe our Teacher Minerva could give you some practice at taking tests like the ones you need to get your licenses,” Amos mused aloud. He held his son's gaze, pleased that Allen had admitted his need. “I'm not telling you what to do, understand. You probably want to head back to Indiana already, after seeing how small our new colony is.”

Allen's lips twitched. “Truth be told, I sort of miss Missouri. But maybe you've hit on an idea,” he murmured. “Some of my trade school buddies got copies of sample tests on their computers and practiced with them before the exam.”

“And if you asked them, those fellows would probably give you printed copies to work with,” Simon said.

“Any one of us would help you practice with those tests,” Bernice continued eagerly. “Remember how Barbara and I used to make you play school with us?”

“You were our best scholar, Allen—even if you were our only scholar,” Barbara said. “What's family for, if not to help you along?”

“If you called those friends tonight, and they put sample tests in the mail right away,” Sam speculated, “we could drill you while we're all here for the holidays. Once we head home and drop you off in Indiana, we can't be much help.”

“I'll think about it.” Allen appeared to be closing off this topic of conversation, yet Amos sensed his son might have gotten enough encouragement to carry through on what his sisters and brothers-in-law had suggested.

For a moment they all sipped their coffee. Amos's thoughts were spinning as he considered what his children had said—how they had refuted the painful messages he'd received in those dreams. Even so, Amos felt compelled to wipe the slate clean. Who knew how long it might be before he had his kids together again?

“You'll never know how grateful I am that you've all come here to see me,” he began softly. “And if I said or did things that seemed hurtful or hard-hearted—to you or to your mother—I hope you can forgive me. I regret the separation I might've caused—”

“Enough said, Dat,” Bernice insisted, holding up her slender hand to stop him. “Barbara and I moved to Ohio with these redheaded Helmuth fellows because they so badly needed our guidance—”

“And it had nothing to do with our life at home with you and Mamm,” Barbara finished. “Amish parents believe in discipline and obedience. Nothing wrong with that. Matter of fact,” she added, blushing as she looked at her husband, “Sam and I plan to raise our kids the same way.”

“So do Simon and I,” Bernice put in, reaching for her husband's hand. “We're expecting our first ones in June, you see.”

Amos's mouth dropped open. “You—you're starting your family?”

“Both of us are,
jah
.” Barbara nodded happily, wrapping her arm around her midsection.

Bernice laughed. “It was the craziest thing, when we both realized we were carrying—and that we'll both give birth around the same time, too. It's a twin thing, I guess.”

Allen gazed first at Sam and then at Simon, shaking his head in disbelief. “Are you kidding me? Did you guys plan this out?”

Simon shrugged at the same time his brother did. “Bernice said it exactly right. It's a twin thing.”

“We were just doing what we were told,” Sam teased as he looked at the two girls. “It was their idea to come here and make the announcement to you in person, Amos, and it seemed like the perfect reason to shut down the nursery shop for a while. Nothing's worth more than being with your family.”

Grandchildren! Two of them—next summer!
Amos wanted to laugh and cry and sing all at the same time as he gazed at his daughters. “I—well, it seems I've just received the best Christmas gift a father could ask for,” he blurted.

Simon smiled secretively. “Maybe we'll have another surprise after we've been here long enough to see your new colony,” he said. “We've got a younger brother looking to get hitched soon, and he'll be needing a business that'll support him—”

“And you know how all the best land out east is either passed down through generations of a family, or it's too expensive for a fellow just starting out,” Sam added with a smile that matched his brother's.

Amos blinked. Did he dare believe his daughters and their husbands would relocate to Promise Lodge? He decided not to press them for an answer—or to entice them by offering plots of land. Some gifts were meant to be anticipated and savored, opened in their own good time.

Amos felt extremely grateful because he would have another couple of weeks to spend with his children, who apparently loved him despite all of his perceived faults. Those painful dreams he'd experienced had served their purpose, but Amos was even more grateful because they hadn't come true.

Chapter Twenty-Six

On Saturday morning—with only six more days until Christmas—Mattie sang along with the other ladies in the kitchen. The old carols rang sweetly as some of them baked and decorated cookies while others prepared a special noon meal for everyone at Promise Lodge, as a way for folks to get better acquainted—or to catch up—with Amos's three kids and the girls' husbands. Barbara, Bernice, and their driver Vicki already seemed right at home with the Kuhn sisters. They were asking a lot of questions about the cheese factory as they helped Beulah make a large pan of macaroni and goat cheese.

“Oh, that's a real treat,” Phoebe remarked as she walked by the counter where Amos's twins were pouring the macaroni mixture into a big glass casserole. “And when Ruby tops it with slices of her fresh mozzarella cheese, you'll want to take seconds—”

“And thirds!” Laura teased as she rolled out dough on the counter. “But I'll be saving room for lots of these sugar cookies. Seems the ones the kids made last week all disappeared before I got any.”

“Did someone say sugar cookies?” a male voice called out from the lobby. “Make lots of stars with frosting and jimmies on them!”

When Roman entered the kitchen, followed by Allen Troyer, Mattie had to chuckle. Her sons had always loved frosted sugar cookies, and when Roman, Noah, and Allen were growing up, the three of them had devoured dozens of cookies in her kitchen before heading outside to play. It did Mattie's heart good to see the young men renewing their friendship—just as she enjoyed seeing the big stack of mail her son placed on the worktable.

“Lots of Christmas cards,” Roman remarked as he snatched a warm bell from the wire rack where the cookies were cooling. “We'll be back when you've got these frosted, Laura. Better mix up another batch of dough, don't you think?”

As the young people teased each other, Mattie stepped over to the pile of mail at the same time Rosetta did. “Several cards from our friends in Coldstream,” Rosetta said as she leafed through the colorful envelopes. “This small one's addressed to you, Mattie. Who could it be from?”

When Mattie noted that the return address was
U NO HOO,
her heart thudded faster. She snatched the envelope from Rosetta's fingers. “None of your beeswax, little sister,” she murmured.

Rosetta's dark eyebrows rose. “Hmm, could Marlin be writing you a special invitation to visit his barrel shop?” she teased. “He asked you quite some time ago, but I don't think you've gone—”

“Nor do I intend to,” Mattie put in crisply. “I told Marlin I was glad he moved here, but that I wasn't interested in a private tour of his shop—or a serious relationship.” She glanced around, pleased that the other women were singing again and paying attention to their own tasks rather than following this whispered conversation. “Carry on, Rosetta. I'll be back shortly.”

Feeling as giddy as a schoolgirl whose sweetheart had passed her a note at recess, Mattie headed into the lobby and up the double stairway to the privacy of her apartment. She had recognized the small, uneven handwriting—and
U NO HOO
—immediately, and before she'd entered her doorway she'd ripped the envelope open.

“Oh, Amos,” Mattie murmured as tears sprang to her eyes. When they'd been head over heels for each other years ago, he'd written her the sweetest letters—and that's when he'd made up his whimsical return address. That was also when she'd known Amos Troyer was unlike any other man she would ever meet.

Mattie sucked in her breath. She'd longed for such a letter since the moment Amos had sent her away on that awful afternoon when his depression had gotten the best of him. She'd insisted that it didn't matter to her if he'd be in a wheelchair—but Amos hadn't been ready to believe her that day. This brief, compelling letter said far more between the lines than Amos's affectionate words spelled out.

Amos had stopped wandering in the wilderness of his affliction. He'd come back to himself—and he wanted her again.

“Oh, Amos!” Mattie repeated as she went to her closet. She pulled out a dress the color of cranberry sauce and slipped into it, then put on a fresh
kapp
, as well. In a few hours she would be accepting Amos's invitation for a sleigh ride—and whatever else he suggested.

When Mattie returned downstairs and began setting the big tables for their festive meal, Rosetta came out to help her. “Why do I suspect somebody's got a date?” she teased.

“
Jah
, the way I understand it, you're taking another skating lesson from Truman this afternoon,” Mattie replied without missing a beat.

“Puh! You think you're keeping a secret, but it's written all over your face, Mattie,” Rosetta said as she finished putting the plates at each chair. She slipped her arm around Mattie's shoulders and pulled her close. “And nobody's happier than I am that Amos has come to his senses.”

Mattie felt her cheeks tingling. “Well, don't go shouting it from the rooftops just yet. But I think you're right.”

As everyone began arriving just before noon, the women came into the kitchen while the men chatted in the dining room. Mattie was busy slicing the turkey and the ham, chatting with Frances and Minerva as they filled serving bowls with stewed tomatoes, creamed corn, and steamed broccoli. When Mattie set the platter of ham at the end of the table, she couldn't miss the way Amos was gazing at her, his dark eyes wide with a pressing question. He sat taller in his wheelchair. He was wearing a shirt of deep green, and his hair was neatly combed.

He's better looking now than he was at twenty
, Mattie thought as she held his gaze. When she smiled and gave him a thumbs-up, Amos grabbed her hand.

“See you later,” he whispered.

Mattie nodded eagerly. “
Jah
, you will.”

After everyone was seated and had joined in the silent prayer of thanks, the bowls and platters made their way around the extended table, which comprised three tables placed end to end. Mattie smiled as she looked at every resident and guest who graced their home . . . the two Kuhns, the six Peterscheims, the five Kurtzes, three of the Lehmans—because Mary Kate had remained at home with little David—her sisters and nieces, her two sons and Deborah—not to mention Amos and his three kids, two sons-in-law, and Vicki. Truman and his mother had joined them, as well. What a sight, what a blessing, that all of them were here together!

“Floyd, it's
gut
to see you,” Amos called to the bishop, who sat at the other end of the long table. “I want you to know how grateful I am that you tried to catch me when I fell, and how sorry I am that you came out of that accident in much worse shape than I did. If there's anyway I can help you and your family, I want to know about it, all right?”

The dining room got quiet. Bishop Floyd straightened in his chair. He didn't say anything, but he gestured to Frances, who pulled a notepad and pen from her apron pocket.

Mattie watched as the bishop laboriously wrote a few words on the paper with his good hand. When she caught Frances's eye, Frances smiled.

“The occupational therapist told Floyd he should be communicating in whatever way he can, and we're grateful for this advice—and thankful to God that Floyd can still use his right hand.” Frances paused to glance at the note her husband shoved toward her. “It says, ‘Amos, seeing that you feel better makes me feel better, too. Just be my friend.'”

Everyone around the table smiled and murmured their agreement. Mattie felt hugely relieved by this statement, considering the difficulties the Lehman family had experienced since Floyd's stroke.

“What a wonderful thing to say,” Amos replied to the bishop. “I'm proud to be your friend, Floyd. Keep up the
gut
work with your therapists.”

For the next several minutes, everyone concentrated on eating, talking among themselves. Every time Mattie glanced at Amos, he was already looking at her . . . a man with a plan, apparently. He turned toward the redheaded son-in-law who sat beside him and murmured something.

Sam—or was it Simon?—smiled brightly. “This seems like a fine time to share our news,” he began as he gazed across the table at Barbara and Bernice. “My brother and I have spent these past few days looking over the land here, and talking with Amos, and we've decided to move to Promise Lodge! The girls want to be near their
dat
when our kids are born—and Sam and I believe a garden center and nursery like we have in Ohio will do very well here.”

“Oh, I'm so glad to hear that!” Christine said, clapping her hands. Rosetta grinned and added her congratulations, as did other folks.

“That's
gut
news for me, too,” Truman put in happily. “I'd like nothing better than to buy my trees and shrubs from my neighbors instead of having to drive so far to find reliable stock. Welcome to Promise Lodge, you Helmuths!”

“We'll move early in the spring,” Barbara said, smiling at everyone around the table. “Dat has offered to build us houses by then, and it'll be the best time for Sam and Simon to transport nursery stock to start this branch of the business.”

“And what about you, Allen? Are you coming, too?” Gloria asked sweetly.

Mattie bit back a laugh. Gloria's question, accompanied by the batting of her eyes, left no doubt about her interest in Amos's handsome son.

Allen shrugged, but he was smiling. “Might be. Once I take my exams—and
pass
them,” he insisted as he looked at his
dat
, “I think I could find plenty of work around here as a plumber or an electrician. Of course, Dat has been reminding me that I also need to join the Old Order, and that maybe I shouldn't be as interested in electrical matters—”

“But at least we're talking about it,” Amos finished. “We all know plenty of young men who have equipped themselves with education and skills and then put them to
gut
use after they joined the church. I'm tickled that Allen's even considering coming home.”

Mattie could tell that Amos felt immensely gratified by his children's presence, and by their decision to relocate from the Helmuth family's thriving nursery business in Ohio. “Seems to me that God's been very busy amongst us lately,” she said as she rose to fetch the cookie tray and the pies from the sideboard. “We've seen such improvement in Amos and Floyd, and now the two Helmuth couples are joining us—not to mention their babies and maybe Allen! That's a lot of blessings to celebrate.”

“
And
we get to go ice-skating today!” Johnny piped up. “That surely is a blessing—thanks to whoever gave us our new skates.”

As everyone murmured their assent and their thanks, Mattie held her breath. The expression on Amos's face told her he wasn't nearly finished bestowing blessings—and she hoped everyone would be excited enough about skating that they wouldn't linger too long over their dessert. About half an hour later, when most of the pies had disappeared and the tray had only a few cookies left on it, folks began to push back from the table. Amos winked at Mattie and then murmured something to Allen, who wheeled his
dat
toward the lobby, where the coats were.

Ruby, Beulah, and Christine all gathered around Mattie and Rosetta. “You girls have afternoon plans that are much more exciting than cleaning up the kitchen,” Beulah said.

“So get ready for your fun!” Ruby insisted. “We've got plenty of help today.”

“If anyone deserves time out to enjoy life, it's you two,” Christine added with an emphatic nod.

Mattie raised an eyebrow at Rosetta. “You told everyone I was going to—”

“Hah!” Beulah blurted. “The way Amos was gawking at you during dinner, I thought the tablecloth might catch fire. Maybe his kids talked some sense into him.”

“Or maybe,” Rosetta said playfully, “Amos decided it was his turn to show a special gal a
gut
time in his beautiful sleigh. After I take a few tumbles on the ice, I'll probably wish I could trade places with you.”

Mattie couldn't help grinning—and she didn't argue about leaving the kitchen cleanup to the other women, either. By the time she freshened up and came back to the lobby in her deep red cloak and black bonnet, she saw that Amos was waiting in the sleigh, out by the lodge's front porch. It was such a treat to see him settled on the plush velvet seat without his wheelchair, she didn't even mind that the other women would be gawking out the windows, watching them leave.

“I suppose Allen helped you by hitching Mabel to the sleigh and tucking the blankets around you,” Mattie said as she took her place at Amos's left.

Amos shrugged, smiling mysteriously.

“And what do your kids think about us being together?” she asked as she arranged part of the quilt around her lap.

Amos grabbed her hand under the blanket and squeezed it. “They said it was about time I got on with my life,” he replied in a tight voice. “I'd been so concerned, thinking they'd resent my leaving their mother's memory behind—which is why I didn't tell them when you and I originally got engaged. Turns out I've been mistaken about several things. But enough about the kids.”