CHAPTER TEN

Sarah stayed home again on Tuesday morning. The afternoon would be busier at the workshop because of getting Noah’s finished pieces ready to take to Jacob for the open house tonight. She wanted to create some small placards to put out, naming Noah as the creator and giving his address. If only she’d thought of it in time, she could have made some leaflets to give out.

On the other hand, Noah might not have wanted that. She really had to be careful not to push too hard. She’d offered to go in with him this afternoon and help arrange the display, but he’d quickly refused. Almost too quickly. It had been after they’d worked at the school together, so possibly he felt he’d seen enough of her for a time.

Carrying a glass of juice, she tapped on and opened the door to Ruthie’s bedroom. Ruthie was propped up in bed, with Mary once again snuggled up beside her. Exchanging glances with her grandmother, she smiled.

“Mary is being very affectionate. She must understand that you’re not well.”

Ruthie squeezed her daughter. “Maybe she knows that she’ll soon have to share Mammi’s attention with someone.”

“Little ones always understand more than we think,” Grossmammi added. She’d brought some mending up with her, and her needle never missed a stitch in the shirt she was repairing.

“Most likely.” Sarah set the juice on the bedside stand. Somehow the younger ones seemed more sensitive to others than the teenagers did. When her siblings had hit their teens, it had seemed as if they were unaware of anything beyond their own thoughts and feelings.

Sarah glanced out the window. It was definitely more cloudy today than it had been the previous day. Perhaps they really were going to have the snow that the twins yearned for.

“Sarah, maybe while everyone’s settled you can help me with something.” Grossmammi stood, dropping the finished shirt on top of her sewing basket.

“For sure. What is it?”

“I’d like to go up to the attic to find some things for Christmas.” She lowered her voice on the word, glancing at Mary.

Needlessly, Sarah thought. Mary wasn’t old enough to remember anything about the holiday.

“You don’t have to come up with me,” she protested when Grossmammi headed for the door. “Just tell me what you’re looking for and where it’s likely to be.”

“But that’s just what I don’t know. I know where I always did keep them, but Eli put things away last year. I should know the right box when I see it, though.”

“But surely . . .” She had to hurry to catch up with her grandmother, and she may as well give up. No one ever succeeded in keeping Grossmammi from doing what she’d set her mind on.

The stairs to the attic were narrow and uneven. Sarah took the flashlight that hung on a hook next to the door, shining it on the steps. Grossmammi went up first and she followed close behind, alert to catch her if she stumbled.

But, as always, Grossmammi moved nimbly. Sarah had noticed that it was only when she was tired that she wavered. The attic was low ceilinged, but they were both able to stand up straight. Light came through the windows at either end, and with the aid of the flashlight they could see well enough.

“What are we looking for?” she asked. Everything was neat, but the boxes and trunks weren’t labeled. She’d hate to have to open everything to search, especially as cold as it was up here.

“I want to get out the putz. And those candleholders I use in the windows with greens. You remember the putz, don’t you?”

“For sure.” Memory brought a smile. “How could I forget?” Grossmammi’s manger scene, each piece carved of wood, had been a fixture of her childhood. Her grandmother had let the kinder play with the pieces, acting out the Christmas story again and again.

“Ach, you kinder always liked setting it up. It helped you learn the story of Jesus’ birth, ain’t so?”

“It did, that’s certain-sure. And you always said we couldn’t hurt it, but I remember one of the boys dropping an angel and chipping its wing.”

“Jacob, that was.” Grossmammi bent over a stack of boxes. “How that boy did cry over it. Now here’s something I wanted to find.”

“The putz?” Sarah went to her, focusing the light.

“Something that I always meant for you.” Her grandmother took the flashlight from her. “There. The little dower chest. Pull it out. It’s yours.”

Sarah obeyed, her fingers lingering on the small wooden box. It was a half-sized version of the kind of dower chests girls filled with sheets and quilts in anticipation of marriage. The stylized birds painted on the top had faded, but they were still lovely, still typical of Pennsylvania Dutch folk art.

“Grossmammi, it’s beautiful, but really, I don’t need it. Why don’t you give it to one of the younger girls? They’d love a place to store their treasures.”

“It’s for you.” Her grandmother’s voice was firm. “You were named Sarah, after my mother, and this was hers when she was a girl, and it has her name inside the lid. Don’t argue now. And don’t tell me you’re not going to marry. That’s foolishness.”

“It’s true,” she said, smiling as she traced the shapes of the letters inside the lid.

“Sarah Grace, you have no idea what the Lord God has planned for you. Never forget that He promises you hope and a future. If that future includes marriage and babies, your age won’t matter in the least little bit.”

It was always pointless to argue when Grossmammi sounded like that. “We’d best get the putz before we catch cold up here. We can decide about this another time.”

“You’ll put it right there by the steps to bring down later,” her grandmother retorted. “And there’s the box with the putz in it, and maybe the candleholders, too. You can carry that down now. We’ll let Mary help us unpack it.”

Giving up, Sarah obeyed orders. Maybe Grossmammi would forget about the dower chest. Still, she couldn’t deny that she loved the thought of owning something that had belonged to that earlier Sarah.

They’d reached the hallway when they heard the patter of running feet. Grossmammi bent and caught Mary before she could get to the stairs.

“Now, what are you doing, you little schnickelfritz? Mammi is calling you.”

Mary tilted her head to look up at them, her cheeks rosy with laughter. Seizing Grossmammi’s hand, she tugged her toward Ruthie’s room.

Surging into the room on a wave of giggles, they caught Ruthie halfway out of the bed, looking guilty.

“Where are you going?” Grossmammi hurried to tuck her in again, her tone gently scolding. “Mary’s right here. I know what you need—you need a bell to ring for help.”

“Good idea.” Sarah swung Mary, still giggling, onto the bed. “Look who we found!” Mary snuggled against her mammi, looking as innocent as could be.

“Here’s something that will keep that little one occupied.” Grossmammi dusted the box and set it on the quilt. “Mary can help Cousin Sarah get out the crèche.”

Ruthie caught Mary’s hands as she reached for the box. “I don’t want her to break anything. She’s too little to understand.”

“It’s no use saying that to Grossmammi,” Sarah said, opening the lid. “If she let the likes of Eli and Jacob and my little bruders do it, I doubt Mary can do any harm.”

“That’s right.” Grossmammi sat on the edge of the bed, watching Mary’s little face as Sarah drew the wrappings back. “They’re carved of wood, so they’re just right for little hands. Mary will learn the Christmas story with them, just like her daadi did.”

Sarah drew out a paper-wrapped figure, feeling the shape of wings, and handed it to Mary. “I wonder what Mary will find.”

The paper gave way to Mary’s chubby hands, and the roughly carved angel emerged. “Angel,” Grossmammi said, guiding Mary’s hands over the angel’s wings. “That’s the angel who sang at Jesus’ birth.”

Patting it, Mary verbalized something that sounded a little like the word.

“That’s right.” Ruthie’s face brightened with pleasure as she watched her daughter.

Sarah leaned back a little, watching the others as they shared the moment and built Christmas memories for yet another generation. Her throat tightened. This was what she’d tried to carry with the family each time they’d moved—this precious patchwork of family memories and family faith bound tightly together.

Had she done enough? And had she done the right thing in following her heart back home?

---

—

NOAH GAVE THE boys an early supper that night, having decided to take them with him to Jacob’s shop for the open house. It was a school night, but it certain-sure wouldn’t hurt them to stay up late once in a while. Selling was part of the business, as Sarah had to keep reminding him. They’d enjoy the unexpected outing.

They were excited—so excited that by the time they’d reached town Matty was about bouncing off the seat. Mark was snuggled up against his daad, looking around with his eyes wide and grabbing his twin’s jacket when Matty got carried away.

Noah drew up at the hitching rail. “Hop down, you two, and get the mare’s blanket. We don’t want her getting cold out here.”

“She’d like to come inside,” Matty said, convulsing himself with giggles while his brother got the blanket and carried it to Noah.

The blanket secured, Noah caught the boys before they could run to the shop door. “Now then. Best behavior while we’re in Jacob’s store, yah? No running, and don’t bother the grown-ups.”

“We’ll behave, Daadi,” Mark said, and Matty nodded.

“All right, then.” Trusting he wouldn’t regret this, Noah led them to the door, pausing a moment to look down the street. The lights twinkled like stars, and every shop window had some sort of decoration. He smiled at the awestruck look on the twins’ faces. Just because the Amish kept decorating to a minimum, that didn’t mean they couldn’t enjoy seeing the way others celebrated.

He opened the door, the bell on it jingling. Jacob looked up from where he was arranging some small leather goods on a counter. “Well, look at this—two new helpers for us. That’s just what we need.”

Noah smiled, looking from the boys’ faces to Jacob. “Hope it’s okay to bring them.”

“Sure thing.” Jacob gestured toward the right side of the shop door. “What do you think of your display?”

It seemed strange to see the products of his workshop in Jacob’s shop, set up against a background of harnesses and saddlery hung on the wall. “Looks gut. Let’s hope some customers think so.”

Jacob stood next to him, frowning a little. “Let’s get a woman’s opinion.” He looked toward the swinging door that led to Dinah’s bakery next door. “Dinah? Can you come in for a minute?”

The door swung open, letting in a mixture of delicious aromas. Dinah appeared, with Sarah right behind her. He couldn’t help staring.

“I didn’t know you were coming, Sarah. We could have picked you up.”

“I wasn’t sure earlier, but one of Ruthie’s sisters was there, so they had enough help at home.”

“So instead, she came to help me,” Dinah added. “Can we do something for you?” She had a gentle smile for the twins.

“Yah, have a look at Noah’s furniture and tell us what you think of the arrangement?”

Both women looked at the pieces with identical expressions of dismay. Finally Sarah spoke. “I think it’s not an arrangement at all.” She and Dinah moved in and with what seemed like wordless cooperation, began moving things around.

Dinah seized a pair of small stands that his mamm had called whatnot stands. In a few minutes they’d displayed those on either side of a chair and added a few sprigs of greens in a jar on the shelves.

“You see,” Jacob said, standing back with his arms crossed. “Turn it over to an expert.”

Noah nodded. “Maybe they can figure out how to convince shoppers to buy harness.”

“That would be beyond us.” Sarah handed him a sheaf of cards. “When I realized I could come, I made these up to put on things or to give out if someone seems interested.”

He found he was looking at hand-lettered cards giving information about his workshop and where to find him. Noah Raber, Handcrafted Furniture, it said. It looked oddly impressive to him.

“Denke, Sarah. I didn’t expect you to do this.” He supposed he should have thought of it himself. Looked like he had a ways to go as a businessman.

“No problem.” The bell jangled in the bakery next door, and Dinah hurried off. “I’ll need to help Dinah. We’re giving away cups of hot cocoa and a cookie, so send the boys over whenever they need a break.” She scurried in the wake of her friend before Noah could thank her again.

“Looks like we have customers coming, too.” Jacob nodded toward the glass door. “Remember, you have to talk to people who stop to look.”

“I know.” He tried to sound more confident than he felt, and it wondered him how he’d let himself be talked into it. Then someone came up to him with a question, and he didn’t have any more time to think.

To his surprise, he actually started enjoying it once they got going. Some folks made foolish comments, for sure, but several seemed genuinely interested. Clutching the cards Sarah had made up gave him some confidence. At least if he couldn’t think of anything else to say, he could hand a person one of them.

Eavesdropping on Jacob dealing with customers, Noah found he could learn a bit. Jacob’s products might not be appealing to many Christmas shoppers, but he had a friendly way of talking that probably helped to sell a couple of belts and a leather key ring or two.

An Englisch woman stopped to look at a bookcase, smiling at the boys. “Did you make this?” she asked.

Matthew and Mark exchanged glances, and Noah hoped they’d learned enough Englisch in school to answer. “Our daadi did,” Matty said at last. He sent his father a look that seemed to ask him to take over.

“The boys help me in the shop,” he said. “If you have any questions, I can try to help you.”

In a few minutes he found himself listening to a long story about a daughter who kept changing her mind about what she wanted for Christmas. He found he just had to smile, and nod, and hope the boys didn’t get the idea that Christmas was about asking for presents.

In any event, the woman took one of the cards and said she’d decide soon, so maybe it was worth it.

As she moved off, Sarah murmured in his ear, “She was a talker, ain’t so?”

“Yah, for sure.” A tingle ran across his skin at her unexpected nearness.

To his relief, she stepped away quickly. “Maybe the boys can come and have cocoa now?”

The twins greeted the suggestion with eager smiles. “It looks like you have a couple of customers.” He nodded to the boys. “But don’t let them be pests.”

“Never,” she said, mock serious. “Komm, quick, before the cookies are gone.”

Matty and Mark scampered to join her, Matty opening the door while Mark held on to her hand. He watched until the door swung closed behind them. Sarah was good to them—no doubt that was her nature. But he had to remember not to impose on that.

The evening seemed to last forever to Noah. Finally Jacob glanced at the clock, closed the door behind the last customer, and pulled down the shade. He grinned at Noah. “Not bad, was it?”

“Not bad at all.” He looked over what he had left. “Both of the whatnot stands sold, and the small cabinet. And several other people said they’d be stopping at the workshop.”

“I figured you’d make a hit, especially with those smaller things that folks could buy for Christmas gifts.” Jacob looked as pleased as if they had been his sales.

“Denke, Jacob.” He looked for words. “I’m wonderful glad you talked me into this.”

Jacob clapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t know why I didn’t think of it before. Now that you’ve made a start, you can make some plans. Not much over the winter, but once spring comes, there’s the mud sales, and the Spring Fest, and the big Craft Fair.”

“Ach, I’m not looking to do everything that comes along,” he said, laughing. “I’m just a carpenter, not a salesman.”

“You’ll be surprised what you can do when you get started.” Jacob began replacing some of the small things he’d gotten out. “Look at Dinah. She never thought of half of what she’s doing now before her man died. Now she’s making a gut living.”

That was most likely true. A person did what he or she had to when the time came. Picking up the bookcase, he headed for the door just as Sarah came in from the bakery. She carried a large cardboard box, and the boys danced around her. A glance told him they’d probably crash into bed as soon as he got them home.

Sarah’s glance met his and she smiled, as if thinking the same thing. She skirted the boys as she came toward him.

“This is for you and the boys. Dinah says such helpful boys deserve the leftovers. If you’re loading your buggy, I’ll bring it out.”

“We can carry it.” Matty’s excitement took him right into Sarah’s path, and he grabbed for the box.

Sarah lifted it over his head. “I don’t think—”

“Not now,” Noah said firmly. “You’ll go back and thank Dinah properly. And see if you can help her clean up.”

Matty made a face, but then his smile returned and the boys scurried back into the bakery.

Noah reached around his burden to open the door, and he held it while Sarah brushed past him. She was laughing a little as the door closed behind them.

“This box isn’t the sturdiest thing. I’d guess the cookies would hit the ground in a minute if Matty carried them.”

“I’m certain-sure of it.” He walked next to her as they rounded the corner of the building toward the hitching rail. Immediately they stepped into the darkness beyond reach of the streetlights. He hesitated. “If you want to stay where you are, I’ll put the bookcase in first and then take the box.”

“Ach, it’s fine. I’ve got it.” Together they moved to the buggy, and she stood next to him while he lifted the bookcase. “You’re pleased about the open house, ain’t so?” Her face was tilted up to his, a pale oval in the shadows.

“Yah. And I know you’re the one to thank.” He slid the bookcase into place in the back of the buggy. “Jacob wouldn’t have thought of it if you hadn’t put the idea in his head.”

“I always did have to push Cousin Jacob a tad.” The laughter in her voice was clear. He’d think she’d be tired after the long day, but she didn’t show it.

“Let me help you.” He reached for the box, and together they lifted it into the buggy, their hands tangling together in the process. Awareness of her closeness flooded through him as they stood together in the dark, quiet alley. She was so close he could hear her breathing. He felt the shiver that went through her.

“You’re cold,” he murmured, putting a hand on her wrist. Her breath caught, and her skin warmed under his touch.

“I’m fine,” she began, tilting her face up to his. But her voice trembled on the words, and her eyes looked huge and dark in the dim light.

She was so close. He felt again what he had in that moment when he’d looked at her across the schoolroom and sensed a connection running between them, linking them. But this time they really were touching, and her lips seemed to call his. He bent his head, unable to control the movement, longing to—

Noah jerked away, horrified at what he’d so nearly done. He saw the same feeling reflected in Sarah’s face as well. And then she spun around and fled for the shop.

---

—

STARING AT THE ceiling and pounding her pillow all night hadn’t done a thing to help Sarah cope with what had happened. She had to face it.

In another moment Noah would have kissed her. Worse, she’d wanted it. It would be convenient to blame Noah for the whole thing, but she couldn’t. She’d known, even if she hadn’t wanted to admit it, that there was a strong attraction underlying their growing friendship.

It was impossible. They both knew it. Noah already had a wife. He was tied for life to a woman who’d deserted both him and her own babies. Sarah couldn’t suppress a surge of anger at the very idea.

The straight pin she was using to fasten the front of her dress ran into her finger, and she sucked away a drop of blood. Was that a reminder not to judge others? Because she certainly had been guilty of that particular sin where Janie was concerned.

Smoothing her hair, she pinned her kapp into place and took an assessing look at herself in the mirror. Not good—she looked like a woman who hadn’t slept all night. It didn’t help to realize that she still hadn’t decided what to do about the situation with Noah.

He’d be feeling as guilty as she did. Somehow, before she saw him, she had to decide what to say to him. But in the meantime, there was work to be done. Slipping quietly down the stairs in the dark, she headed toward the farmhouse to start breakfast.

But by the time she walked down the lane to the workshop, Sarah had an even bigger problem. Eli had picked up the mail and handed her a letter—a letter from Indiana. Her sister had written back, and there seemed little doubt that Janie Raber was living . . . or at least staying . . . near the community where her sister lived.

Sarah fingered the letter she’d tucked inside her mitten. Tell Noah or not? The question made last night’s event fade in significance.

Noah was already at work when she entered the workshop. He glanced at her and gave a short nod, his face unreadable. Maybe that meant he intended to ignore the whole thing. She had a cowardly hope that it was so.

But Noah proved her wrong before she’d even reached her desk. “Sarah.” He put down the tool he had been holding and stared at it, not even glancing in her direction. “About last night . . . I’m sorry. I don’t know what got into me. It was all my fault. I’m ashamed . . .”

“Ach, Noah, don’t.” She reached out to him and then let her hand drop. “It was mine, too.”

He was already shaking his head. “You’ve never done the least thing. I’m to blame.”

Sarah took a deep breath. “Let’s start over again. It’s no use arguing whose fault it was. Nothing happened. We were just foolish. Can’t we forget it?”

Finally Noah met her eyes, and she could read the shame and confusion in his face. “I don’t know if I can forget.”

If they were being honest, she wasn’t sure, either. The warm grasp of his hands on her arms, the feel of his breath against her cheek . . . No, that wouldn’t fade easily. But maybe pretending would make it true in time.

“We were both wrong,” she said firmly. “I want to put it aside and get on with work. Can we do that?”

Doubt flickered in his eyes before he turned to stare again at the work in front of him. “All right. Denke.”

The constriction that had seized her chest relaxed, and she could breathe again. Instinct told her to say nothing more, so she sat at her desk and opened the ledger to enter the previous night’s sales. That was one issue settled. Unfortunately there was another, more difficult one.

Taking advantage of Noah’s involvement in his work, she slipped the letter from its envelope and read the paragraph again.

Dearest Sarah,

I’m sorry if I upset you about the Burkhalter family. I don’t remember them myself, but it’s different for you, knowing the little boys. I did ask some questions, and it is Janie’s father who is in our church district. He lives with his brother and family. I asked Daniel’s mother, because she knows everyone. She says Amos Burkhalter goes to Standish to see a relative there, but that relative never comes here.

“Sarah? Did you hear me?”

She blinked, jolted back to the here and now. “Ach, I’m sorry. Did you want me to do something?”

“I’m making a couple more whatnot stands, since they sold so fast. They’ll be quick to make, especially if you could do the finishing coats. Jacob says he’ll display them in his shop for me.”

“That’s wonderful gut.” She tried to show the appropriate enthusiasm. “I’d love to. Just show me what to do.”

He nodded, but her voice must have given her away, because he was studying her face as if for a clue to her thoughts. “What’s wrong?”

She started to deny that anything was wrong, but it was no good. She couldn’t keep this from him. She had to tell him.

Finally, unable to find the words, she held the letter out to him. “You’d better read this. It’s from my sister, Nancy. I . . . I think you need to know.”

His gaze still fixed on her face, Noah grabbed the letter. When his head bent to read it, she turned her chair away, instinctively sure it would be wrong to watch him.

She heard the thud of his feet as she stared fixedly at the calendar on the wall. Noah thumped the letter down on her desk in front of her, forcing her to look at him.

“How long have you known this?” His voice was so harsh she hardly recognized it.

“Nancy mentioned the name in the letter I got last week, but I wasn’t sure it was the same family. I didn’t want to say anything until I was sure.”

He drew in a rasping breath. “So Amos knows. All this time—Amos has known where she was.”

“I’m sorry.” She choked out the words. “I wish . . .” What did she wish? That he’d never have had to know? Or that someone else had been the one to tell him?

He stared down at the letter for another moment, his face dark with anger. Then he turned. Before she could guess what he was about, he’d slammed his way out of the shop.