Grace: A Christmas Sisters of the Heart Novel (26 page)

1 cup butter
1 cup sugar
2 eggs
1 cup molasses
1 cup sour milk 4 cups flour
2 teaspoons ginger
1 teaspoon cinnamon
½ teaspoon salt
2 teaspoons baking soda

Cream together butter, sugar, eggs, molasses, and 1 teaspoon baking soda. Add dry ingredients with remaining 1 teaspoon baking soda in sour milk. Bake at 375 degrees.

2 packets yeast
2 ½ cups water
1 box yellow cake mix
3 eggs
⅓ cup oil
6 cups flour
1 teaspoon salt

Melt margarine, brown sugar, and cinnamon mix just enough to coat the tops of rolls.

Dissolve yeast in warm water. Add cake mix, eggs, oil, 1 cup flour, and salt. Beat until bubbles appear. Slowly, add remaining flour or enough to make soft dough that you can knead. Let rise until double.

Roll dough ¼ inch, spread with margarine, sugar, and cinnamon mix. Roll up, and slice. Place slices in greased pans and let rise until double. Bake at 350 degrees, 20 to 30 minutes. Top with powdered sugar to glaze when cool. Very good!

(This is delicious for breakfast.)

3 cups water
2 cups sugar

Boil for five minutes. Let cool.

Add:

1 6-ounce can frozen orange juice
1 large can crushed pineapple (do not drain)
8 mashed bananas

Mix and freeze to a slush consistency.

6 eggs
Ham, sausage, or fried bacon
Onion, salt, and pepper to taste
2 cups milk
6 pieces old bread
Velveeta slices

Beat the six eggs. Add breakfast meat and seasonings. Pour into greased cake pan. Leave in refrigerator overnight. In the morning, heat oven to 350 degrees. Put Velveeta slices on top. Bake half an hour.

½ cup butter
¾ cup sugar
1 teaspoon grated orange peel
⅓ cup chopped pecans
¾ cup coarsely chopped cranberries
2 ½ cups flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
½ teaspoon salt
⅓ cup milk
⅔ cup orange juice

Glaze:

1 cup powdered sugar
4 teaspoons orange juice

Heat oven to 350 degrees. Combine butter, sugar, egg, and orange peel. Add juice, milk, and dry ingredients. Add nuts and cranberries last.

Spoon into greased loaf pan. Bake 50 to 60 minutes. Mix powdered sugar and orange for glaze, spread over cooled bread.

Monday, June 7, 11:59
P.M.

South Bend, Indiana

“So … it looks like I’m your seatmate.”

Slowly Lucy Troyer opened her eyes and turned to the deep-sounding voice. Then couldn’t help but stare. The man speaking to her was Amish. And, she just realized, he’d spoken to her in Pennsylvania Dutch.

She blinked. How could that be? From the time she’d left the train station in Kalamazoo, she’d hardly come across more than a handful of people like herself, and they’d been in the train station in Chicago.

As her eyes continued to focus, the man—who really was too handsome for his own good—had the nerve to wink. “I know, it’s enough to make ya smile, ain’t it?” he asked, bright blue eyes shining underneath the soggy brim of his black felt hat. “The coach attendant took me through
practically this whole train here, and I didn’t spy a single other Plain traveler. Until you. And now … here we are.”

Yes, here they were,
she repeated to herself, slowly wondering if she’d ever seen another jaw so fine. Or shoulders so broad …

When she noticed he was still standing, and she was still staring, Lucy shook herself out of her reverie. “I’m sorry. Am I taking up both the seats?”

“Not so much. But it would be to your benefit to scoot over as much as you can, if you don’t mind. I’m near soaked to the skin.” Shrugging off his wet jacket, he grinned broadly. “You’re right lucky you were inside this train instead of waiting in the weather. The storm is a terrible one, for sure.”

“I fell asleep more than an hour ago. I didn’t even realize it was raining.” She scooted over a bit and pushed her skirts more neatly around her. “There. I hope this is better?”

“You’re fine. Of course, you’re fine,” he murmured as he pulled a modern-looking backpack up from the floor and hefted it into the chrome container above their heads.

Then, with the pleased expression of completing a task, he joined her, bringing with him the scent of rain and man and something so fresh it made her think of spring.

Despite their best intentions, his pants brushed against her dress, making the once terribly roomy pair of seats seem suddenly narrow and confining.

Around them, in the dim light of the overhead fluorescents, the other passengers mumbled and snored. After a faint call of ‘all aboard,’ the train chugged into motion.

As the station slowly faded from view, her new seatmate
spoke. “I haveta admit, I don’t fancy boarding a train at midnight. But what do ya do, huh? We’re bound by the train schedule.”

“Indeed.” Lucy ached to think of something else to say, something far more significant, but her mind went blank.

But instead of looking at her strangely, her one-word answer seemed to amuse him. “So, I’m guessing you didn’t board here in South Bend. When did you get on?”

“Back in Kalamazoo, Michigan.”

“So you’ve been traveling for some time.”

“Jah.
Hours and hours. I boarded a different train back in Kalamazoo, then got on this one in Chicago.”

“You’ve had quite an exciting day, then.”

Again, she noticed that his whole demeanor was patient. Kind. Not searching for faults.

With effort, she pushed back the hint of unease she felt rushing forward, heating her cheeks.
Just because a handsome man looks like Paul, it doesn’t mean he’s like him inside,
she cautioned herself.

Feeling his stare, Lucy knew he was still waiting for her to say something. “You could say that my day’s been exciting,” she said slowly. “At least, it has been for me. It’s my first train trip by myself.”

“We’ll have to stick together then,
jah?”

Lucy turned her head away so he wouldn’t see the surprise in her eyes. This man was quickly turning her stomach into knots. She wasn’t used to talking to men she didn’t know. Especially one on one.

Obviously misjudging her uneasiness, he cleared his throat. “Have I apologized to you for waking you up?”

“There’s no need for that. If I was sleeping, it wasn’t too deeply. Just dozing.”

He leaned back on his chair and wiggled a bit as it creaked and groaned. “A doze is probably all we’ll get. This train’s sure seen better days, ain’t so?”

“I think so,” she said softly. But of course, she’d seen better days, as well. It used to be, talking with a man would make her smile. Now she was on edge.

Waiting for him to say something disparaging. The way her husband used to.

Next to her, the man fidgeted again, finally pulling out a newspaper that she hadn’t even noticed he’d slipped in the pocket of the seat in front of them. “By the way, I’m Calvin.”

“I’m Lucy.”

Calvin inclined his head. “Lucy, I’m pleased to meet you.”

“Uh. Yes,” she said, then feeling like a fool again, she turned toward the window and closed her eyes. But though she tried her best to relax, she was finding it next to impossible. She was too aware of his presence. His smile. His easy way of moving.

And the horrible knowledge that once again she was noticing a too-handsome man she really knew nothing about.

Just like she’d done with Paul.

As Lucy closed her eyes next to him, Calvin shook his head with regret. When he’d first saw the woman next to him, he’d been thanking his lucky stars. She was a pretty thing, and looked so pleasant. Lucy’s hair was the color of dark golden honey, and her light golden eyes looked like a clear sky on an early winter morning.

But her attitude had been so skittish—almost as if she’d wished he would sit next to anyone but her.

Almost as if she’d been afraid of him.

He frowned. Never before in his twenty-six years had a girl looked at him with such apprehension. On the contrary, most seemed to go out of their way to be good company.

He’d always taken that for granted, he supposed. It was what came of being Calvin Weaver, the oldest son of the Weaver family—the biggest landowners in Jacob’s Crossing.

As he turned the page of
The Budget,
and tried to fold the paper so it wouldn’t brush against Lucy’s dress, he glanced her way again.

Besides her golden hair and matching eyes, she was altogether lovely. Slim and blessed with full cheeks. With some surprise, Calvin realized she was older than he’d first thought, too. Most likely she was closer to his age than not.

Surely she wasn’t some shy young girl.

And she also didn’t seem to actually be sleeping—more like she was just pretending to sleep. Obviously so she wouldn’t have to talk to him.

So what was it that had set her off? Had he said something that could be misconstrued? Replaying their brief conversation in his mind, he could think of nothing untoward.

Well, perhaps she was simply a reserved sort of person. Bored with the paper, Calvin looked around the rest of the train car. Perhaps he’d find a congenial man to visit with? But the dozen or so people who shared the space with him all looked to be happily occupied or fast asleep.

Almost against his will, he pulled the worn letter out from his jacket’s inside pocket. In the relative privacy of his seat, he smoothed out the creases, rubbing his thumb against the folds. Over the words he had memorized six weeks ago, but couldn’t seem to let go of.

His last letter from Gwen.

There was no reason for him to still have the note. He knew why Gwen had broken up with him. She’d fallen in love with someone else. One of his friends.

Everyone expected Gwen and Abraham to declare themselves any day.

And that knowledge—and their betrayal—hurt more terribly than he’d imagined it could.

Dear Calvin, the letter began. I fear I must finally be honest with you …

She’d feared. Finally. Each phrase hurt him anew. Calvin blinked, then, like an addict, focused on the words again, further down the page.

Abraham and I, we can’t help our feelings, you see …

As the words swam in front of him, a conversation with his brothers floated forward.

“Why don’t you go to Indiana for a spell,” his youngest brother Graham had told him. “There’s no need for you to witness their courting.”

But running away had seemed weak, and he’d told them that.