An Amish Second Christmas Read online

  OTHER NOVELS BY THE AUTHORS

  BETH WISEMAN

  The Daughters of the Promise novels

  Plain Perfect

  Plain Pursuit

  Plain Promise

  Plain Paradise

  Plain Proposal

  Plain Peace

  The Land of Canaan novels

  Seek Me with All Your Heart

  The Wonder of Your Love

  His Love Endures Forever

  Need You Now

  The House that Love Built

  KATHLEEN FULLER

  The Hearts of Middlefield novels

  A Man of His Word

  An Honest Love

  A Hand to Hold

  The Middlefield Family novels

  Treasuring Emma

  Faithful to Laura

  Letters to Katie

  TRICIA GOYER

  The Seven Brides for Seven Bachelors novels

  The Memory Jar

  The Promise Box

  The Kissing Bridge

  A Christmas Gift for Rose

  RUTH REID

  The Amish Wonder series

  A Miracle of Hope

  Always His Providence, a novella in An Amish Miracle

  The Heaven on Earth series

  The Promise of an Angel

  Brush of Angel’s Wings

  An Angel by Her Side

  OTHER AMISH NOVELLA COLLECTIONS

  An Amish Garden

  An Amish Christmas

  An Amish Gathering

  An Amish Love

  An Amish Wedding

  An Amish Kitchen

  An Amish Miracle

  © 2014 by Elizabeth Wiseman Mackey, Kathleen Fuller, Tricia Goyer, Ruth Reid

  All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, scanning, or other—except for brief quotations in critical reviews or articles, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  Published in Nashville, Tennessee, by Thomas Nelson. Thomas Nelson is a registered trademark of HarperCollins Christian Publishing, Inc.

  Thomas Nelson, Inc., titles may be purchased in bulk for educational, business, fund-raising, or sales promotional use. For information, please email [email protected].

  Publisher’s Note: This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. All characters are fictional, and any similarity to people living or dead is purely coincidental.

  ISBN 978-1-4016-8982-7 (eBook)

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  An Amish Second Christmas, four novellas / Beth Wiseman, Ruth Reid, Kathleen Fuller, Tricia Goyer.

  pages cm

  ISBN 978-1-4016-8981-0 (paperback)

  1. Amish--Fiction. 2. Christmas stories, American. 3. Christian fiction, American. I. Wiseman, Beth, 1962- Season of hope. II. Reid, Ruth, 1963- Her Christmas pen pal. III. Fuller, Kathleen. Gift for Anne Marie. IV. Goyer, Tricia. Christmas aprons.

  PS648.A45A56 2014

  813’.01083823--dc23

  2014015398

  14 15 16 17 18 19 RRD 6 5 4 3 2 1

  CONTENTS

  When Christmas Comes Again

  BY BETH WISEMAN

  Dedication

  Glossary

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Reading Group Guide

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Her Christmas Pen Pal

  BY RUTH REID

  Dedication

  Glossary

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Reading Group Guide

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  A Gift for Anne Marie

  BY KATHLEEN FULLER

  Dedication

  Glossary

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Reading Group Guide

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  The Christmas Aprons

  BY TRICIA GOYER

  Dedication

  Glossary

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Reading Group Guide

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Recipes

  Recipes from Beth Wiseman’s

  Recipes from Ruth Reid’s

  Recipes from Kathleen Fuller’s

  Recipes from Tricia Goyer’s

  When Christmas Comes Again

  BETH WISEMAN

  To Karla Hanns and Joan Main

  GLOSSARY

  ab im kopp: off in the head; crazy

  ach: oh

  bruder: brother

  daadi: grandfather

  daed: father

  danki: thank you

  Englisch: the English language; a non-Amish person

  gut: good

  kapp: prayer covering or cap

  kinner: children

  mamm: mom

  mammi: grandmother

  mei: my

  mudder: mother

  nee: no

  Ordnung: the unwritten rules of the Amish

  Pennsylvania Deitsch: the language spoken by the Amish

  rumschpringe: running-around period when a teenager turns sixteen years old

  wunderbaar: wonderful

  ya: yes

  CHAPTER ONE

  Katherine Zook fell into step with two Englisch women who were crossing the parking lot toward the Bird-in-Hand market. Normally, she would avoid the chatty tourists, but the tall man with the shoulder-length, salt-and-pepper hair and a limp was following her again.

  “It’s a lovely day, isn’t it?” The middle-aged woman walking next to Katherine was a little thing with short, red hair and wore a blue T-shirt with Paradise, Pennsylvania on the front. Her friend had on the same T-shirt, but it was red.

  “Ya, it is.” Katherine glanced at the dark clouds overhead. There wasn’t anything lovely about the weather. Frigid temperatures and the snow had just begun to fall again. She picked up the pace and hoped the women would speed up too. She looked over her shoulder, glad they were gaining some distance on the stranger. She’d first seen him a week ago, loitering outside the Gordonville Bookstore, and she hadn’t thought much about it. Then when she saw him at Kauffman’s Fruit Farm and Market, she’d thought it was a coincidence. She’d also spotted him outside Paradiso’s when she�
�d stopped to pick up a pizza as a treat for the children. But this was becoming more than a fluke.

  Katherine could feel the women staring at her, but she kept her eyes straight ahead and hoped they weren’t about to ask a string of questions. Do you have a telephone? Can I take your picture? Is this where you do your shopping? How many children do you have? Are your people Christians? And Katherine’s personal favorite: Do you know where I can get an Amish pen pal?

  It wasn’t that she held ill will against the curious Englisch tourists, but she often wondered what their reactions would be if the situation were reversed. They’d most likely run from her or summon the police.

  “Ma’am, can I ask you a quick question?” The redhead spoke loudly, as if Katherine might be hard of hearing, making it impossible to ignore her. She looked over her shoulder again, but she didn’t see the man anymore. She stopped a few feet from the entrance when the two women did. “Ya. What can I help you with?”

  “I-I was wondering . . .” The woman blushed as her eyes darted back and forth between Katherine and the other lady. “My friend and I were wondering . . .” She pulled her large, black purse up on her shoulder. “We—well . . .”

  Katherine waited. She was anxious to get in and out of the market, then back on the road. She’d left her two youngest kinner home alone. Linda was old enough to babysit five-year-old Gideon, but he could be a handful even for Katherine. She pulled her black coat snug, looking forward to a brief reprieve from the weather once she got inside the market.

  “Do Amish women shave their legs?” the woman finally asked. Luckily, she hadn’t spoken as loudly as before.

  This is a first. Katherine closed her gaping mouth and tried to find the words for a response. Before she could, the other Englischer spoke up.

  “And . . . you know . . .” The woman was a bit taller than her friend with short, gray hair that was slightly spiked on the top of her head. She raised one of her arms and with her other hand she pointed under her arm. “Do you shave here too?”

  The first woman touched Katherine lightly on the arm. “We can’t find the answer to that question online, and it’s been an ongoing argument during our book-club gatherings.” She stood taller and smiled. “We only read Amish books.”

  Does that fact make it okay to ask such questions? Katherine considered telling the women that they were very rude, but changed her mind. She folded her hands in front of her and glanced back and forth between the ladies.

  “Only when I’ve planned for my husband and me to be alone. But he died six months ago, so . . .” Katherine smiled and shrugged. That will give you something to tell your book club. Both of the women’s eyes went round as saucers. “Have a wunderbaar day,” Katherine added before she walked into the market. She looked back once to make sure neither of them had fainted. She didn’t know any Amish folks who used the word wunderbaar, but the Englisch seemed to think they did, so she was happy to throw it in for good measure.

  She held her laughter until she was inside the store. On most days, it was a challenge just to get out of bed in the morning, much less to find humor in anything. But as she made her way to the back of the market, she thought about Elias. Her husband would have gotten a chuckle out of Katherine’s response. I miss you, Elias.

  She dropped off some quilted potholders for Diana to display in her booth. Katherine tried to make several per week for her Englisch friend to sell. The market in Bird-In-Hand catered to tourists mostly, and Diana had a permanent booth. Katherine and a few other local Amish women provided Diana with items to sell. And occasionally, when Katherine had time, she and Diana would sneak away and grab lunch and then split a dessert. They both suffered from an insatiable sweet tooth. But those times were getting more infrequent since she bore the entire responsibility of caring for the family.

  Making small craft items used to be more of a hobby for Katherine, but now that money was tight, Linda and Mary Carol had been putting in extra hours sewing, knitting, and crocheting. Katherine hadn’t told the children that they might have to sell their house, or at least part of the fifty acres that surrounded their home. That would be a last resort because the land had been in her family for three generations. She grabbed the last thing on her list, and as she made her way to the checkout line, she caught sight of an Englisch couple walking hand in hand. She missed having someone to bounce the important decisions off of. Her oldest, Stephen, was sixteen and trying hard to assume the role of head of the household, even though it should have been a time for him to be enjoying his rumschpringe.

  As she made her way toward the exit, she saw the two women from the parking lot. The ladies actually bumped into each other as they scurried to avoid Katherine, but Katherine smiled and gave a little wave before she walked out the door.

  She stuffed her gloved hands into the pockets of her coat. The snow was beginning to accumulate, and the wind was biting. It was colder than usual for December. Somehow, Katherine and her children had managed to get through Thanksgiving, but this first Christmas without Elias was going to be hard.

  When she felt the tears starting to build in her eyes, she forced herself to think about the two Englisch women, and it brought a smile to her face. She was going to bottle that memory and pull it out when she felt sad, which was most days.

  As she hurried toward her buggy, she tipped the rim of her black bonnet to shield her face from the snow, but every few seconds, she scanned the parking lot for signs of the tall man with the gray hair. Katherine didn’t see him.

  She stowed her purse on the seat beside her and waited for two cars to pass before she clicked her tongue and pulled back on the reins. She said a silent prayer of thanks when the snow started to let up. John Wayne was an older horse, and like so many others that pulled buggies in Lancaster County, he hadn’t fared well at the racetrack. And as a result, he was no longer any use to his owner. Elias had paid a fair price at auction, and John Wayne had been a good horse for a lot of years, but these days the winters took a toll on the animal.

  Katherine could still remember when, years ago, she and Elias let Mary Carol name the animal. They’d assumed their oldest daughter must have heard the name on television—maybe at an Englisch friend’s house. Katherine and Elias had limited visits to the Englisch homes when their kinner were young since the Ordnung encouraged their people to stay as separate as possible from outsiders. But in Lancaster County, it was impossible to avoid the Englisch completely. Their district relied on the Englisch tourists to supplement their income. With each new generation, there was less land available for farming. More and more, Amish men and women were working outside their homes. The women in their district enjoyed having a little extra money of their own. “Mad money” was what the Englisch called it. Katherine had no idea why. But then, the Englisch seemed to get mad about lots of things.

  It was several years before Katherine found out that John Wayne was the name of some kind of gunslinger. But by then, it was too late to change it. The name had stuck.

  She picked up speed to get ahead of another car in the parking lot, and she was almost to the highway when she caught sight of the strange man again. He was standing beside a blue car, staring at her. A shiver ran up her spine. As she passed by him, she allowed herself a good, long look, tempted to stop and ask him why he was following her. But that wasn’t always safe with the Englisch. Katherine was wise enough to know that there were good and bad people everywhere—even in her small Amish district—but the bad seemed to settle in around the Englisch. It was just simple math. There were more of them.

  When Katherine locked eyes with the stranger, he hurried into the blue car. Would he follow her? She didn’t know who he was, but something about him was familiar.

  She turned around several times during her trip home, double-checking that he wasn’t behind her. Thirty minutes later, she pulled into her driveway. She got John Wayne settled in the barn before she hurried into the house. She called out to Linda as soon as she walked into the living room.
After she hung her bonnet and coat on the rack by the door, she pulled off her gloves.

  “Linda! Gideon!” She edged toward the stairs and was relieved when Linda answered. “Up here, Mamm.”

  “Is everything okay?” she asked from the landing.

  “No!”

  Katherine sighed as she started up the stairs. Out of her four children, Linda was what her friend Diana described as dramatic. Since no one was crying, she assumed no one had gotten hurt, always a good thing. “I’m on my way up.”

  “You’re not going to be happy!”

  Katherine picked up the pace. I’m already not happy. What now? She opened the door to Linda’s bedroom, and when no one was there, she moved down the hall to Gideon’s room.

  Linda threw her hands up in the air and grunted. “I don’t know what you’re going to do with him.” Linda stormed past Katherine before she could ask her why she hadn’t kept a closer eye on the five-year-old, but right now, she needed to have a talk with her youngest.

  She sat down across from Gideon’s bed where the boy was playing with his shoelaces. Stephen disliked having to share a room with little Gideon. He would definitely not approve of these new drawings on the walls. Their home was plain. Everywhere except this room. Stephen had begged for a few luxuries when his rumschpringe began, and Katherine had given in since he seemed to be taking his father’s death the hardest. Posters of hot rods and musicians on the wall, a battery-operated radio by the bed, a pair of earbuds on the nightstand, and a magazine with a fancy automobile on the front. Katherine didn’t like all these things being in the same room with Gideon, but she was choosing her battles these days.

  “Gideon, we’ve talked about this. You cannot draw on the walls.” Katherine rubbed her forehead as she eyed her son’s artwork and recalled how she’d just repainted this room a month ago. Diana had told her that drawing pictures on the walls was Gideon’s way of expressing his grief. Katherine hadn’t been sure about that, but today’s imagery proved Diana was right. However, this was not a time for scolding. “What made you draw this, Gideon? We talked about where Daed went, remember?”

  Her son hung his head for a few moments before he looked up at her with his big, brown eyes. He brushed his blond bangs out of the way. His hair needed a trim but it would have to wait. Maybe Stephen could do it.