An Amish Christmas Quilt (18 page)

C
HAPTER
15

“Well, Lucy, your dream was indeed from Derr Herr.” Luke looked down at his little daughter as she held the kitten box close in the confines of the sled.

“So you're not mad at me for running away?”

Luke had to laugh, a free sound that gave him refreshment inside
. John Beider held out his hand to me in goodwill....
“
Nee
, little one. I'm not mad, but please don't make a habit of running. My heart could not take it.”

Lucy snuggled close to him. “I promise to be
gut,
Daddi.”

Luke smiled down at her. “And I promise to listen more closely when you tell me that you have a message from Gott
.”

He turned his focus back to the snowy road and remembered that he'd have to tell June she'd be having five unexpected guests for supper. The thought made him laugh again and he felt like a much younger man inside.

 

Laurel laughed aloud in the clear mountain air as she darted behind a pine tree only to be caught in Matthew's strong arms as he swung her off the ground for a lingering kiss.

“Matthew,” she protested when he let her catch her breath. “Simon will see.”

“Simon saw,” the younger boy called from beside a nearby tree, and Laurel smiled at his dry tone.

She nuzzled closer to Matthew's chest, still filled with disbelief at her
fater's
show of goodwill that morning.

“I know what you're thinking,” Matthew said, resting his chin atop her bonnet. “I can't fathom it either. But I wish . . .” He stopped, and she tilted her head backwards to stare up at him.

“What?”

He shrugged his broad shoulders. “Well, I wish that you might have been able to have a big wedding. I know a girl must dream of those things.”

“I dreamed only of you, my love,” she whispered. “And I wouldn't trade our wedding for all the guests and gifts in the world.”

He rewarded her answer with another deep kiss, and she heard Simon snort nearby.

“Look, can we stop the mush and pick a tree? I'm freezing.”

“
Ach
,” Laurel exclaimed. “Let's get two trees—one for each home. The Beiders' and the Lapps'.”

“Great idea,” Matthew said, grinning.

“Oh, boy.” Simon shook his head. “
Jah
, it's a great idea, but you'd think that, Matt, even if she asked to go round up ostriches with orange plumes.”

Laurel lifted her nose and suppressed a giggle. “I'll have you know, Simon Beider, dearest
bruder
-in-law, that I'd only ask to look for purple-plumed ostriches and never during a Christmas tree outing.”

She was secretly pleased to see Simon smile. She so wanted her new family to accept her. Then she caught Matthew's hand and pulled him into a clearing of long-needled pines.

“Here we are. Any of these would be perfect. And the long needles will hold the bread-dough decorations nicely.” She ran a gloved hand caressingly down a fragrant tree branch.

In the end, they chose two trees that barely fit in the back of the sleigh, and Laurel knew they'd have to wrestle the pines into the doors of the cabin homes. But she believed in big trees to match the ebullient spirit she felt inside at this time of year and in especial thanksgiving for the healing going on in their fathers' hearts.

John watched in fascination as his new daughter-in-law twisted the ornament bread dough with deft and artistic hands. In the past, Ellie had normally used cookie cutters and food coloring to paint the ornaments, leaving the
buwes
not all that much interested in decorating. But Laurel had an infectious smile and encouraged everyone to try their hand at making more individualized ornaments.

“At home,” the girl chattered happily, “we paint them after with a coat of lacquer and some of the ornaments have lasted for years.”

“What a
gut
idea!” Ellie exclaimed, still hoarse, but up and joining in the fun.

Soon, an odd but creative assortment of decorations was spread out on cookie sheets. John watched Laurel take Matthew's hand and guide it to leave a thumbprint next to hers in the dough. Then she carefully etched in the date of their wedding. A small straw was used to leave a hole in the top of each piece, where ribbon would be tied later.

John was surprised to see how deeply Simon concentrated on his piece of dough and his penknife. He soon bashfully revealed a full wreath, with leaves neatly displayed, as well as holly berries and a bow. Then the ornaments went into the oven and were properly painted with food coloring to finish.

While the decorations baked, Ellie served a quick lunch of chicken salad, dumpling soup, and fresh lemonade. Then, Laurel gathered them all near as she, with simple garden gloves on, threaded holly leaves onto fishing line to create a full, beautiful garland to place atop the mantle of the fireplace.

John was happy to see that Ellie showed genuine joy in Laurel's work. He imagined it did not always go so well when a new woman was about in the kitchen or adding to family traditions. But he was blessed in his home, his table, and now his new relationship with Luke. John still had no true idea how he'd gotten up the nerve to extend his hand to Luke. It truly had to be Gott's work, but now that it was done, and Luke had responded in kind, John thought of all the time they must catch up on. And he also realized how foolish he'd been to sacrifice a friend over a shotgun so many long Christmases ago.

Once the decorating and the afternoon chores were done, Matthew discreetly sought out Laurel in their room.

“What are you doing?” he asked quietly, closing the door behind him.

“
Ach
, mending my
gut
apron for tonight.” She bent forward in the small rocker near the window to get closer to the fading light.

She glanced up at him briefly. “What are you doing?”

He pretended to consider. “I did my chores, made my ornaments, had my lunch, listened to my wife's instructions . . . and now, I think, we should do something together.”

“What is that?” Her pretty brow wrinkled in thought as if trying to remember something she might have forgotten, and he took a step backwards to the bed. He caught the top quilt of Christmas roses in his hand and flung it out onto the pristine hardwoods with a gentle flair and an arched brow.

“Matthew,” she protested in hushed shock. “It's broad daylight.”

“It is not,” he contradicted, raising a hand to the fading afternoon outside the window.

He was pleased to see her blush and he moved to take the apron and needle from her carefully, laying them aside on a small worktable. “
Kumme
, lie with me, my
frau
.”

“But what will your parents think, and Simon?”

He grinned. “Simon's currying the sled horse, Mamm is rebraiding her hair, and Daed is dozing in front of the fire. Any other protests?”

She rose to her full, slight height and straightened her spine, which pushed her breasts out delightfully. “I am not protesting. I know my duty as a wife.”

“Duty?” he scoffed. “Duty on the second day of our marriage?” He made himself take on a discouraged expression. “And to think that I believed you enjoyed our, um—time on the floor.”

She laughed then, moving toward him. “I suppose I do sound a bit prudish. I expect it's only the second year of marriage before a wife may mention duty.”

He enjoyed her teasing and gave her a wolfish smile. “My love, so long as I have will in my body, what we do together will never be duty to you, and never be less than all the pleasure I can give.”

“Is that a promise?” she breathed as he caught her close.

He kissed her until she felt like melting beeswax inside and would have lain with him anywhere.

“That, Laurel Beider, is my word of honor.”

C
HAPTER
16

“I tell you, Luke, it feels like Christmas Eve already,” June called from the kitchen.

Luke walked away from the tree where Lucy was hanging paper chains. “I know what you mean.” He smiled at his sister. “What are you making for the dinner I sprang on you?”

June sniffed. “I fancy I'm about ready for anything that comes my way in the kitchen—Pork chops, mashed potatoes, gravy, corn off the cob, pickled beets, raisin pie, and hot cider.”

Luke grinned. “Sounds
gut
.”

“It smells
gut
too, Aenti June,” Lucy called. “Me and Friend are hungry.”

“Well, you won't have to wait long, Lucy. Here they come.” Luke hurried to the front door as the sound of sleigh bells rang out in the dark air
. I still cannot believe I'm going to greet John—John Beider, after all these years. It seems too gut to be true . . . but that is how Derr Herr works—what we least expect and when we least expect it.

Luke went out on the porch to take Ellie's arm as she balanced a huge casserole of baked beans and molasses. Laurel and Matthew followed arm in arm, and then Simon and John
.
Luke once again took great pleasure in the hand John extended to him, and he returned the handshake with gladness.
Ach, how happy Meg would be to see this . . . but perhaps she did.

Lucy immediately caught hold of John and declared Friend's intention of sitting next to him at the table. Luke was happy to see the gentle way his old friend treated his younger daughter, and he knew that the Beider
haus
would easily become home for Laurel if John had anything to do with it.

The rooms were filled with merriment as wraps were taken off and boots unlaced, and the tree was admired with fervor.

Then an impulse came over Luke and he caught John's arm as he bent over his bootlaces
.
“John,
sei se gut
, would you
kumme
out to the wood workshop with me for a quick moment before we eat?”

“Surely.” John smiled, bending to pat Lucy's head and promising to return quickly.

Luke led the way outdoors and over to the shop. He turned up several lanterns, then showed John through the shop.

“It's beautiful work you do with wood,” John murmured, pausing to finger a carving. “I knew when we were young that you had talent, but didn't imagine this.”

“
Danki
,” Luke returned soberly. “I know that is not idle praise.”

“
Nee
, it's not. I mean it, and I mean to take the time as days go by to speak a lot more things to you, old friend. Things I should have said long ago.”

Luke nodded and set the lantern he carried down on a workbench. “Do you remember the last time we spoke?”

 

“You mean screamed, on my part, don't you?” John recalled with sad remembrance. “I wouldn't hear you out, no matter what you said, and all over a silly shotgun.”

Luke turned to a large cabinet nearby and brought out a long, white cloth bag. He laid it on the table in front of John and cleared his throat. “I know we don't usually give gifts until Second Christmas, but this one has been waiting a bit too long for the giving. Merry Christmas, John.”

John stared down at the cloth, his heart starting to beat fast. He undid the drawstring slowly and slid the material down to reveal the shotgun inside. For once, he found himself speechless as Luke moved the lantern closer.

“Turn it over,” Luke suggested.

John did and saw the legendary Buffalo nickel that old Possum Johnson had carved a space for on the stock, but then John looked closer. He rubbed his eyes and stared again at the fine-grained wood.

Beneath the nickel, carved in perfect penmanship, was his own name and
Christmas—1975
.

“I—I don't understand . . .” John whispered, feeling his eyes well with tears.

“You wouldn't let me explain or I would have told you that I bought the gun to carve it for you as a special surprise for Christmas.” Luke's voice was gentle, full of hope.

John put the gun down on the table and caught his old friend in a hearty embrace. “Blamed fool, I was. Forgive me. Forgive me, Luke.”

Luke hugged him back. “I already have. And forgive me for not picking a time to tell you the truth over all these years.”

John shook his head, his voice catching heavily. “They say it's never too late to do the right thing.”

The sudden opening of the workshop door caused the lantern light to dance. Lucy darted inside. “Aenti June says it's suppertime, but wait—
ach
, you two look like . . . friends.”

John reached out and caught her within the circle of his arms, drawing her close to her father. “Friends and family—that we are, little one. This Christmas, and for all those Gott allows to
kumme
, that we are.”