An Amish Christmas Quilt (22 page)

Once she'd slid that into the oven, she went to work on the cake and the peanut butter cookies. Lou didn't have any brown sugar, but he did have white sugar and a small amount of molasses. It would be just enough for the apple pudding cake. Lou had a small bowl on the counter filled with Hershey's Kisses. She'd make peanut blossom cookies and press a Hershey's Kiss into the middle of each one.

She glanced at Gid out of the corner of her eye. He acted as if shredding bills were the most fun thing in the world while he listened in rapt attention to Lou, who was telling him about being in the Army and falling in love with his wife.

Warmth spread through her veins. Not even creating the perfect frosting poinsettia had made her feel this good. She thanked the Lord that Gid had brought her and that they were here together. How could she have ever believed that she didn't want him at her party? He was completely indispensable.

Once the cookies were finished and the cake was in the oven, Dottie started on the dishes. It really could be a nice little kitchen if it were clean. Filling the sink with soap and dirty dishes, she stifled a shudder at the sight of mold growing on some of the bowls and cups. Hot, soapy water would do the trick.

While the dishes dried, she sponged out the cupboards so the dishes would have a clean place to perch and wiped down the counters, spraying them with a solution of water and white vinegar. At least Lou had vinegar. Mamm always said it was the most important ingredient in the kitchen.

Would Lou be offended if she worked her way into the living room? Biting her lip, she glanced at him as he and Gid made their way through the pile of bills. She simply couldn't stop now. He'd be so much more comfortable in a clean house.

She took a deep breath and forged ahead. “Lou, can I do your floors?”

Gid gazed at her as if she were a Christmas angel. She held her breath as a ribbon of warmth slid down her spine. He was certainly good looking. A girl could get too
ferhoodled
to think straight looking into those eyes of his.

Lou lifted his head and gazed at Dottie without really seeing her. “Kumi used to do the floors. She's my wife. We were married forty-nine years and eleven months. Cancer took her.” A sigh came from deep in his throat. “That's the only day I ever cried.”

“My . . . my
mamm
had cancer,” Dottie said. “She's in remission.”

Lou studied Dottie's face and then pointed a finger at her. “She'll be all right,” he said firmly. “Don't you lose your faith. She'll be all right.”

Dottie was surprised by the tears that filled her eyes. Lou didn't even know her
mamm
, but it was oddly comforting to hear his adamant reassurance, as if it would be okay simply because he was so certain.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “She will.”

“And you can mop my floors if you want. Kumi loved clean floors, and my back's too stiff to do 'em anymore.”

Dottie found a broom and a ratty mop and quickly dispatched them on the wooden floors in the kitchen and the living room. While she wiped down the dust on the piano, Gid took four garbage bags full of shredded paper out to the trash bin.

Once she was satisfied with the floors, she wiped off the table and set it with three mismatched plates and cups.

“Just a minute,” Lou said. He disappeared into the back and came out with a pot of plastic poinsettias and placed it in the middle of the table.

Dottie ignored the dust that caked each petal and the cobweb hanging from one of the leaves. The table would be more festive, and even if it wasn't perfect, Lou liked it.

Gid hadn't seen the need to buy vegetables, canned or fresh, so Dottie opened a jar of peaches from Lou's pantry. The label on the peaches, written in a dainty woman's hand, indicated that the peaches had been canned nine years ago. But the bottle was still sealed and the fruit looked okay inside. She decided to chance it.

Dottie brought the casserole to the table with the peaches and three pieces of toast. The chips on top of the casserole had baked golden brown, and it smelled delicious. Lou's Christmas dinner was a little bit of a letdown after the beautiful eats she'd made yesterday, but it was the best she could do. She'd feel horrible if he was disappointed.

“I didn't think you could do it,” he said, as they sat around the table. “Dottie, you are like Julia Child the way you conjure up a meal out of nothing.”

She didn't know who Julia Child was, but the way Lou said it, bursting with gratitude like that, made Dottie believe it was a deep compliment. He reached across the table and laid his hand over hers. He scowled like the grumpy old man he was. “You didn't need to come over, you know. I would have been fine either way.” He let his frown sink deeper into his face. “But Kumi would have been happy that you came. She worried about leaving me alone when she died. I told her I'd be okay either way, but she still worried. You know how women worry too much.”

Dottie stood and made a great show of looking for the salt and pepper so Lou wouldn't see her tears. She didn't want him to think there was any pity behind her emotion.

She couldn't find the pepper. Once she retrieved the salt, she sat and scooted her chair closer to the table.

“Shall we join hands in prayer?” Lou said.

Dottie clasped hands with her companions and tried to ignore the pleasant sensation of her hand in Gid's. She loved the feel of his calluses against her palm and the way his long fingers wrapped all the way around hers.

“Lord,” said Lou, “bless this food that it will taste as good as it looks. Amen.”

The chicken casserole turned out better than Dottie had expected. Among the three of them, they finished the entire pan. Gid and Lou raved about the moist apple pudding cake, especially with creamy sauce drizzled on top. Dottie smiled. Butter made everything taste better. After the cake, Dottie set out the cookies.

“This is a feast,” Lou said. “I haven't eaten this much since Kumi passed away.”

Gid insisted on helping with the dishes, and he acted like getting his hands all soapy and wrinkly was the most fun thing in the world. “I'm the dishwasher at home,” he said. “It's my favorite job.”

While the two of them cleaned up the dishes, Lou went into the front room and played Christmas carols on the piano.

Gid handed Dottie a plate to dry. “Lou used to play for his church,” he said. “Now he can't see the music so well.”

“It's beautiful.”

“He knows the Christmas ones by heart.”

Dottie watched Gid out of the corner of her eye as he drained the water from the sink and swabbed the counters. In her few encounters with him at Ada's house, she'd never seen this side of him. Gid was Ada's annoying and adventurous cousin who loved to hunt and fish and camp. He'd once spent four nights in a snow cave. Dottie had no idea he did dishes and looked after elderly people and had a smile that made her think of springtime. “How do you know Lou?” she asked.

“I'm not sure.”

She gave him one of her best quirky smiles. “Okay.”

Gid chuckled. “He and my
dawdi
Stutzman were friends. Since my
dawdi
passed away, I've tried to watch out for him. His children are pretty busy.”

“But you haven't been to Bonduel for two years yet.”

“Sure I have. I just haven't been to Ada's house at Christmas for two years. I come to Bonduel five or six times a year to visit Mammi and Dawdi Helmuth. Greenwood's only a couple of hours away by car.”

Dottie felt quite disappointed that she'd missed out on all those other times he'd been in town.

“Gid,” Lou called. “Get in here and sing the tenor part.”

Gid handed Dottie his towel and flashed an overconfident smile. “I might be a bad hummer, but I am a very good singer.”

They went into the front room, and Dottie sat on the threadbare chair while Gid took his place next to Lou at the piano. Gid wrinkled his forehead and widened his eyes at Dottie as if to say, “Get ready for something wonderful-
gute
.”

She stifled a giggle. It was best not to encourage his arrogance.

Lou played the introduction, and they began to sing, Gid on the melody and Lou booming a lower harmony. “
Oh come, all ye faithful, joyful and triumphant.
”

Dottie couldn't hide how impressed she was. Gid, so eager to brag about what a good game player he was, hadn't exaggerated his singing skills. His beautiful tenor voice seemed to spiral in the air and envelop her like a mantle of silk.

“
Oh come ye, oh come ye to Bethlehem.
”

Lou's playing became more energetic until they finished the song together in full voice. Lou turned to look at Dottie and pointed at Gid. “He should have been in a band, don't you think?”

“A band?”

“But then, he wouldn't be Amish,” Lou said, “so I guess it's just as well.”

Gid winked at Dottie, too sure of himself by half. “And all this with a sore toe.”

Dottie gave him a teasing grin. “You are a very
gute
singer, Gid. It wonders me why you can't hum to save your life.”

“I wanted to let you win,” he said.

Oh,
sis yuscht!
His smile could have charmed the beard off a bishop.

“What's this about humming?” Lou said.

“It's a game my mamm made up,” Dottie said. “Everybody writes down the names of Christmas songs on small strips of paper and puts them in a bowl, and then you have one minute to get your team to guess as many songs as they can. But instead of talking, you have to give your team clues by humming the songs.” She looked at Gid sideways. “Gid is pretty bad at it.”

“I am not,” Gid protested.

“I wouldn't mind playing that,” Lou said. “Gid and I will hum, and you can guess.”

“Okay,” said Gid. “But I warn you, I have been known to make grown men cry when they lose.”

They spent the next half hour playing the humming game. Gid was indeed the worst hummer in the world. It seemed that humming made it impossible for Gid to put tune and rhythm together. He failed miserably. The three of them got to laughing so hard, neither Gid nor Lou was understandable after a while.

Gid lost the humming game, twenty-seven to six.

When the game ended, Lou looked at his watch. “If you stay another couple of hours, it will be time for supper.”

Dottie's heart skipped a beat. She'd completely lost track of time. The
lebkuchen
and stollen weren't going to make themselves. And the baking was the least of her worries. She had to get to Anna's house and fetch the quilt, the present she had spent three months working on. If this was going to be the best Christmas ever, she must get home immediately.

Gid seemed to read her thoughts. “Lou, much as we'd like to stay, our families will be needing us at home.”

Lou nodded in resignation and averted his eyes. “Everybody should have family at Christmas.”

Dottie's heart just about broke at the look on his face, but he squared his shoulders, took a deep breath, and shook his finger at her. “I'll be just fine, young lady. I don't need anybody's pity. You should be with your own folks. My son gave me a thirty-two-inch LED TV for my birthday last year, and Bing Crosby's on tonight.”

She nodded and tried to smile as if she felt better about it.

He shook his finger at Gid next. “You owe me an ice-fishing trip.”

“How about a few days after Christmas? I'll be here for another week.”

“I'll hold you to that,” Lou said.

“Do you mind if I bring my cousin Junior?”

“Nope, just as long as he don't scare the fish away.”

Dottie walked out the door with a lump in her throat. There were just too many people who needed her.

Gid drove home, not quite as fast as he had gotten them there, but fast enough that Dottie knew he was concerned at how late they were getting back. “I'm sorry that took so long,” he said as they pulled off the road and onto her lane.

“I'm not,” she said. “I had a
gute
time.”

He stopped the sleigh in front of her house, and she almost jumped out of her skin when he took her hand. “
Denki
for cooking and cleaning and playing that aggravating game.”

She couldn't concentrate on what he was saying when his surprisingly warm hand enveloped hers. “I like it when . . . when you . . . hum,” she stammered.

She liked it when he did a lot of things, not the least of which was taking her hand and smiling at her as if she were a whole batch of gooey cinnamon rolls fresh from the oven.

She
felt
like a gooey batch of cinnamon rolls fresh from the oven. With cream-cheese frosting on top.

“I'll never forget your kindness,” he said. “Especially after I sort of kidnapped you.”

She giggled like a giddy teenager. “You asked nicely, and I should still have time to get the baking done for Mamm.”

“I'm sure your
mamm
counts you as a great blessing.”

“I just want her to be well.”

He grew serious. “Are you scared?”

“About my
mamm
?”

He nodded. “But maybe I shouldn't ask. Am I being nosy?”

Doubt blurred the edges of her vision. “I am scared. We came so close to losing her last year. This Christmas is a celebration of her recovery as much as it is a celebration of the Christ Child. I'm baking all her favorite Christmas foods, and I've stitched a quilt. I worked on it at your
mammi's
house so Mamm would be completely surprised.”