An Amish Country Christmas (25 page)

“And what about us, Dat?” Again Pete Hostetler stood up behind the rest of the men.
“Do you expect Rudy and me to go along with your—
carrying on
—with this other woman? Isn’t that a slap in the face of Mamm’s memory?”

Tom remained placid, shifting to focus on his two sons. “I seek your forgiveness,
as well,” he stated quietly. “I don’t want this rift betwixt us to grow any wider.
Ya haven’t had much to do with me since your
mamm
left, and I suspect ya blame me for her leavin’ with that other fella.”

Eyebrows shot up around her, and Nazareth noted how the older men in the front benches
murmured among themselves. Reuben Reihl rose from the center bench, raking his red
hair back from his face as he looked at Tom’s sons.

“As I recall it, you two boys were mighty eager to leave Willow Ridge rather than
help your
dat
with his dairy herd or tend his cropland,” the deacon pointed out. Then he turned
toward the girls, his scowl deepening. “And you daughters married fellas from outta
town, as well, which means your mother had to handle her garden and the house even
while she was workin’ as a caretaker to help make ends meet. Seems to me you four
kids left the family before your mother did. I can’t recall many times you’ve returned
to visit Tom or to be in church with us, either.”

Reuben’s words rang around the room, inspiring another round of nods and murmured
“
jah
s” from the members.

“Your
dat
didn’t stand in the way of your followin’ the paths that would make all of ya happy,
either,” the deacon continued. “So even if you’re not gonna forgive him today, you
could at least offer him the same sort of consideration he’s showed you, so he can
be happy, too.”

“Well said, Deacon,” Henry Zook spoke up.

“
Jah
, and I’m thinkin’ that since Tom’s kids aren’t members of our district,” Ben Hooley
added, “they won’t be votin’ on him becomin’ our bishop, anyway. It’s time to be gettin’
on with that process. My mind’s been made up for quite a while now.”

“Mine, too,” Leah Kanagy added. “This isn’t the time or place for airin’ Tom’s family
problems when we’ve got a bigger issue to decide.”

Tom’s kids scowled at each other and promptly left. The two doors banged loudly enough
to startle folks and make them wince.

As Nazareth dared to sigh with relief, she saw that Tom was gazing right at her. What
a fine, upright man he was, never raising his voice or expressing impatience or disgust
with the way his children had behaved. She smiled steadily at him, excited that he
had publicly stated his intentions toward her . . . ecstatic that he found her worthy
to be his wife. She felt sorry that his kids had left the meeting with a cloud still
hanging over the Hostetler family’s relationships. This situation wouldn’t disappear
just because Deacon Reihl and Jeremiah Shetler had defended Tom . . .

As Jeremiah called for the vote to begin with the eldest of the men, Nazareth thrilled
at every confident “
jah
!” that confirmed the feelings of those in this room: folks were affirming her relationship
with Tom as surely as they were deciding that he should be their bishop. As she waited
for her turn to vote, she bowed her head.

Lord, I thank Ya for this fine day, and for these gut friends who’ve stood with Tom
and me, seein’ our true intentions to be a part of Your plan. Bless Rudy and Pete,
Sarah and Lavinia, as they mourn their mamm and deal with their feelings about their
dat. Shine Your light on them so they can find the way to bein’ right with You
.

The vote was unanimous, the meeting was adjourned, and everyone in the room broke
into applause as they surged toward Tom. Jerusalem grabbed Nazareth in a hug as the
women flocked around her. “Guess it’s official now, Sister,” she whispered. “And nobody’s
happier for you and Tom than I am.”

“
Denki
, Jerusalem,” Nazareth replied as she swiped at sudden tears. “It’s your turn now,
ain’t so?”

Chapter Twelve

Monday morning as Vernon’s sleigh took off down the lane behind Samson, Jerusalem
waved and waved at Nazareth. Her sister beamed, flanked by their nephews, Ira and
Luke. To be proper, they had brought Nazareth back to the apartment above the boys’
gristmill to stay, so she and Tom wouldn’t be at his home alone. Jerusalem had quickly
packed some fresh dresses for the trip to Cedar Creek.

“What a wonderful family you have. Every one of them special,” Vernon remarked as
he urged his Percheron to turn onto the county highway.

Will I say the same thing about Vernon’s aunts and his nephew?
But it was too late to worry about that.

“It was clear at yesterday’s common meal that folks in Willow Ridge have made your
nephews welcome, too,” Vernon said. “And as I talked with Ben, I couldn’t miss the
happiness on his face as he stood with his new bride.”

“Miriam’s a special woman,” Jerusalem agreed. “And we’re all real happy that she stood
up to Hiram, and that Bennie latched onto her.”

“I might miss my guess, but I’d not be surprised if Ben becomes one of your new preachers.
He has that glow of holy purpose about him.”

Jerusalem considered this, feeling a glow herself. Even if things didn’t work out
between her and this bishop, she had to admit Vernon’s accuracy when it came to assessing
character. “Bennie’s a fine fella. Went from bein’ a late bloomer to becomin’ the
biggest blossom on the bush, once he met Miriam,” she remarked. “It was just that
quick between them. No doubts and no lookin’ back.”

“The way it was with us.”

That remark felt like a pond just waiting for her to jump into it. Was it full of
fresh, clear water . . . or would she bang herself up on the rocks at the bottom?
And there was no missing the way Vernon gazed at her, expecting some sort of reply.

“I knew ya for a
gut
man the moment ya walked into Tom’s,” she replied carefully. “And I can’t fib to
ya, Vernon. I’ve been mighty happy this past week, havin’ ya pay so much attention
to me.”

Vernon smiled, focusing on the road. “And?”

And?
Was he going to keep leading her deeper into that pond, until the bottom dropped
out from under her? “And
jah
, I liked the kissin’, too,” she admitted. “How about you, Vernon? If ya were to change
one thing about me, what would it be?”

When his jaw dropped, Jerusalem felt a surge of satisfaction. If this man thought
he was the only one who could lead a merry conversational chase, he’d better find
out the truth before he got her to Cedar Creek. If he gave a wrong response to her
question, it would be best to just turn around now, before—

“Let me ponder that one. It deserves my best effort at an answer. Meanwhile,” he said
as he reached beneath the seat, “here’s that little project I was spending my time
on at Tom’s. I hope you like it.”

“Oh, Vernon, ya really didn’t have to—”

“I
wanted
to make this for you, dear heart,” he corrected softly. “It’s been too long since
my fingers itched to work with wood. Too long since I took the time. And it’s a trifle,
compared to the beautiful afghan you and Nazareth made me.”

Jerusalem tore eagerly at the kraft paper wrapping and then sucked in her breath.
“Oh, my . . . such a perty little box, and with a J on the top!
Denki
, Vernon, I—I’ll cherish it always.”

He smiled, almost shyly. “I work best with my own tools in my own shop, but it’s a
small token of my feelings for you. A keepsake box. Something that, over the years,
I hope you’ll fill with mementos of our times together.”

Jerusalem gazed out over the snowy fields, her heart thrumming as she held the glossy
box on her lap. It was made of cherry wood, with an intricate border pattern carved
around her initial. Then she smiled. To his credit, Vernon hadn’t popped off a clever
reply or sidestepped her question by posing another one. But his gift had made for
a timely distraction, hadn’t it?

“Take your time comin’ up with what you’d change about me,” she remarked. “I’ll just
keep enjoyin’ the scenery. It’s like passin’ through a winter wonderland, what with
the sun makin’ everything sparkle.”

She relaxed against the plush seat of the sleigh, admiring the rich red of its upholstery
. . . the midnight black of Samson’s muscled haunches as he trotted confidently through
an open field of snow that shone with fiery sun diamonds . . . the crisp jingle of
sleigh bells that made her as giddy as when she’d been a kid.

What a joy the Missouri landscape was, so open and uncomplicated. While they had to
be aware of where the ditches and gullies were, and had to watch for the occasional
barbed wire fence between one family’s place and the next, Vernon and Samson navigated
the fields and roads as though they had done it dozens of times. If she hitched up
with Vernon . . . would he be willing to visit Willow Ridge often, so she could spend
time with Nazareth and her nephews?

“If I could change anything about you, dear Jerusalem,” the man beside her began,
“I would change your mind. Not your intelligence,” he quickly clarified, “because
your wit and common sense set you far above most women I know.”

Jerusalem let this sink in, sensing the other shoe was about to drop. “I’m with ya
so far. Don’t stop now.”

Vernon’s laughter rang out as he squeezed her arm. “What a delight you are, dear heart,”
he murmured. “But if I’m to truly win you, I must encourage you over that barricade
of your second thoughts. I must turn your fear into trust, for while I sense you want
to become physically intimate with me someday, you over-think it. And then you get
scared.”

Scared?
Oh, the scary part was how Vernon had hit the nail square on the head, and how he
had returned to the topic of sex. Jerusalem nipped her lip, at a loss for a reply.

Vernon sighed as he slipped an arm around her shoulders. “It wasn’t my intention to
frighten you again just now, and—”

“Not your fault,” she said in a shaky whisper. “I just don’t have the foggiest notion
about what I’m gettin’ myself into.”

“But you like the kissing.”

Her cheeks went hot. “Oh,
jah
, that part’s just dandy, but—”

Vernon’s lips eased over hers before she knew what had hit her. After a moment’s resistance,
when he paused to let her catch up with him, Jerusalem relaxed . . . followed his
lead down a path that warmed and exhilarated her. For long, lovely moments she luxuriated
in his silky lips . . . the softness of his beard against her skin . . . the way her
pulse settled into rhythm with his...

When Vernon eased away with a satisfied sigh, Jerusalem was surprised to see that
they had stopped in the middle of a field, right out in the open. There were no trees
to shelter them from whatever eyes might be watching from that farmhouse on the next
knoll. “My stars, I just—”

“Shhh,” he whispered, and then he kissed her again. “Don’t think about it. Let your
senses lead you toward whatever feels comfortable, sweetheart, and then push your
limit a little farther each time. I’ll catch you before you go off the deep end. Although,”
he said with a wiggle of his white eyebrows, “it’s only in the deep end where you
truly learn to surrender yourself. I’ll be there surrendering, too, you know.”

Jerusalem let out the breath she’d been holding. How had Vernon weaved her thoughts
about deep water into his reply, anyway? “And I’m supposed to trust ya on that part?
That you’ll catch me before I go under and don’t come back up?”

Vernon smiled gently. His blue eyes twinkled, but there was no sign of derision or
impatience in them. “Oh, we’ll reach a point of no return, Jerusalem, if you’ll give
me the chance to take you there.” He ran a finger along her cheek, sending tingles
down her spine. “If I were a betting man, I’d put my money on you becoming quite an
exuberant lover. You approach everything else with such joy, it only follows that
you’ll bring the same spirit into my bed. As my wife.”

Jerusalem’s heart flew up into her throat. Here he was, talking so freely about marriage
again when only a moment ago he was reassuring her about what husbands did with their
wives . . . what he wanted to do with her. “I—I don’t wanna disappoint ya, Vernon.”

“And you won’t, dear Jerusalem. This is fear of the unknown, plain and simple,” he
whispered as he lightly kissed her again. “Once you allow your fear to become faith,
there’s no limit to who you can be or how high you can fly. You believe that, don’t
you?”

Jerusalem hung on his every murmured word, badly wanting to fling herself over the
edge . . . wanting, indeed, to fly. She nodded, holding his gaze. For if she had no
faith, she had nothing at all.

“Good. Now, kiss me again, and then we’ll . . . mulch this subject as though it’s
your favorite rose bush in the fall,” he suggested. “It will gather its strength beneath
the winter’s snow so it can bloom and flourish in the spring. Love’s like that, you
know.”

Jerusalem lost herself in Vernon’s clear blue eyes, seeing herself reflected in them
and going deeper . . . down into his soul, just as he was surely permeating hers.

She slipped the keepsake box onto the seat beside her and leaned into the kiss this
time, daring to take the lead with subtle pressure and a slight slanting of her mouth.
Vernon wrapped his arms around her and held her head, kissing her until she was spinning
in dizzy, giddy circles. Her whole being felt as vibrant and shiny as the snow, and
she didn’t want this moment to end.

“Oh, Jerusalem,” he murmured when they finally released each other.

“
Jah
, it’s me. But it’s me when I was about nineteen—except ever so much finer,” she whispered.
“Because you’re finer than anybody I was kissin’ back then.”

Vernon chuckled and hugged her again. “I know better than to quibble about that. Shall
we get along home? We’ve only just begun, Jerusalem, and I surely don’t want to stop
now.”

“Gee, Samson! You’ve given us a good ride home, boy.”

As always, he felt glad to be entering his own lane after a trip away, but today was
special. How would Jerusalem see his home place? Would the ancient stone silo make
her think he was stuck in the past and hopelessly outmoded? Did the tall stone and
brick house, with its single-story wing of white, appear out of proportion? At least
the cold weather meant she wouldn’t catch the aroma from the cattle that were milling
about the barnyard, absently chewing their hay as they peered between the fence slats.

“Doesn’t look like we got as much snow here,” he remarked as the sleigh slid past
the house. “And bless him, Abner has done a fine job of plowing us out.”

Jerusalem’s smile was a little crooked, but that was to be expected. “Nice to see
all those perty black cows gawkin’ at us,” she said. “Thought I saw somebody peekin’
from between the curtains as we passed the house, too. Did ya tell your aunts I was
comin’ home with ya?”

Vernon pulled the sleigh to a halt. “When I left a phone message that I’d be staying
in Willow Ridge through Sunday, I did mention I’d be bringing a friend for a visit,
yes.”

Jerusalem nailed him with her piercing brown eyes. “A girl-type friend?”

“I confess I was at a loss about what to call you, exactly.” He slipped his gloved
hand around hers, hoping he hadn’t gotten this visit off to an unfortunate start.
“Don’t let the presence of Aunt Nettie, Aunt Florence, and my nephew worry you, dear
heart. This is
my
place,” he continued earnestly, “and just as the Lord compelled me to take them in
when they lost their homes in a flood, He is now answering my prayers for a woman
who is not my aunt! Shall we see where God is leading all of us?”

As he helped Jerusalem from the sleigh and led her up the walk toward the kitchen
door, Vernon recalled bringing Dorothea to meet his parents for the first time, about
forty years ago. As a young carpenter just getting started, he’d had little to offer
a bride—they had lived with Dorothea’s family for about a year after they were married,
as was the Plain custom—so this presentation of his intended felt a little more comfortable.
Still, there was plenty of room for three opinionated women to get crossways . . .

When they stepped into the kitchen, the room was redolent with the rich scents of
chicken and vegetables. His aunt Nettie, who stood at the old cookstove stirring a
pot of soup, turned to greet him—and then her mouth dropped open.

“Aunt Nettie, this is Jerusalem Hooley. She’s come to visit with us for a few days,”
he said quickly.

“Has she, now?” Nettie chirped. Her long-handled spoon clanked against the stockpot
before landing in the hot soup.