Chapter Twenty

Goose bumps climbed over every inch of her flesh as she finished her washrag bath. A bird bath Mammi used to call them. Tonight was the Christmas recital and Grace knew Aenti Tess was disappointed when she refused her offer to go along. Grace couldn’t imagine riding in the buggy all the way to the Amish school across the valley, or sitting for hours on those benches tonight, despite knowing that watching the kinner recite their verses and poems and the sound of Christmas hymns would be a balm to her spirits. It had been a favorite part of her own childhood, next to baking, that was. With a mere couple of weeks away from having her baby, staying close to home was a good idea.

The scent of roasted chicken in the next room told her to hurry into a clean dress. She chose the brown chore dress, having no desire to try and squirm her way into one of her blue ones. It had been Charity’s and two sizes too big three months ago, but now was a comfort to her tightening middle.

The scar on her upper arm had long healed, and she traced the reminder with one finger. So much had happened in such a short amount of time, the scar would always help her remember every part of it when she was gone. She hurried the brush through her hair, wishing she hadn’t used the last of the lavender from Hope’s garden, and hurried into the main room before she burned supper. Hopefully her family had received their gifts by now. Grace could imagine the smile on Hope’s face when she saw the heirloom seed packets. Hope loved growing various breeds of plants.

One whole chicken, two biscuits, and a half pan of gravy—her eyes had certainly been bigger than her belly when she concocted such a feast. She would never get used to cooking for just one person. Her stomach growled as the scent filled her senses. Maybe she would be able to finish the whole thing herself, after all. The thought of it amused her enough to laugh out loud. Her hair, freshly washed, hung long and damp against her back and she squirmed against the moisture soaking into the brown fabric.

Mutter’s letter still lay in the center of the table. After reading Charity’s and Jared’s, Grace hadn’t the stomach for yet more news from home, but as she sat there with her plate overfilled with food she was blessed to have, she thought of her mother. The letter stared at her as she took her first bite, taunting her to read it. It disturbed her more today than the previous days it rested there. Grace eyed it again. It was time to read what was written inside. Maybe her mutter was going to tell her how much she missed her, like Charity insisted. Maybe there would be no mention at all of her disobedience.

Taking a healthy mouthful of chicken, Grace lifted the letter. The seal had already dried, since she had opened it so many times, but until now she’d never so much as pulled the sheets of paper from the inside. She lifted the flap once more, then dared to venture further.

My darling Grace,

I have missed you by my side. Mercy has never been as quiet and easy to work with as you. Your daed says you may come home before the weather turns, instead of waiting as he first demanded. He has a request that I feel is for the best for you. He wants you to marry Leon Strolzfus. As you know, Leon is without a mate after the birth of his son, and his three children need a mamm to raise them, as your boppli needs a father. His dairy is doing well, and your daed assures me he will be kind to your child and accept it as his own. They have spoken on this often of late, and Leon has expressed that he has a great respect for you. Your girlish hopes for anything more are no longer important and we hope you will set aside any false hopes you have entertained and return to the life required of you.

We are sending money for a driver to Tessie. We must know our funds are used only for the good of Gott and nothing more. The bishop and deacon have agreed to welcome you back into the church once you return and will bless your marriage with open hearts. I look forward to seeing you again. Please don’t delay and don’t disappoint your family any further.

Your mom

Suddenly chicken and gravy became a sour villain to her stomach.

Rising from the table, she took up a wooden spoon and lifted the round iron on the stove top. Dropping her mother’s letter into the flames, she closed it up with a clang of iron against iron and tossed the spoon across the floor.

She was stuck. In order to stay, she would possibly be forced to find another place to live, and what Sadie gave her would not allow for such. If she returned, she would be expected to marry. And Leon Strolzfus? The man had always been cold and slower-moving than molasses. Charity offered to share her home, but Grace couldn’t be so selfish as to take it.

It was expected that one was to marry, and Grace should be grateful she had options to provide her child with a father. But she couldn’t bring herself to marry for the wrong reasons. Hadn’t such thinking gotten her in enough trouble?

In another attempt to be heard, Grace bowed her head and prayed. “Lord, don’t leave me, for I have never felt more alone than now. Guide me to the life you want for me, for my child. I will follow.”

Who better to put her faith in than the one who knew all the right answers?

She needed someone to talk to. She peered out the window, rubbed her middle, and stared out at the evening. The sun had not fully retired, and yet the moon was trying to outshine it. One could see far in such light. Over the hill where blue moonlight bounced off pearly snow, Cullen’s light burned. Not the lamp of his kitchen that was routine for him at this hour but the outdoor shop that filled his days. Did he not intend to go to the recital tonight?

The banging of his labors traveled through ash and oak and cedar. Grace wished she had an anvil and hammer, too. Then maybe she would have something on which to take out all her frustrations. She eyed the food left and moved quickly to secure enough to make a walk over the mountain worth doing.

Cullen deserved a meal, and she needed a freind.

…

“Betty left a pumpkin pie that we can add as dessert.” The last thing Cullen had expected was Grace showing up at his door, and with an armload of food. She looked adorable in oversized boots.

“I can just set it inside. I know you have work to be done.” Grace’s dark blue shawl matched the color of her eyes. Her cheeks were red, her shoes thick with snow. There was no way she was walking back up the hill in this weather. If not for having the chance to see her again he would have tossed a fit that she walked this far at all.

“Nee. Work can wait.”

She floated a grin—the kind he wasn’t accustomed to. Something was different about her tonight. She looked…happy to be here. He could smell warm chicken, and his mouth watered as he took the plates and a bowl from her arms.

This was not her first time among his things, but it was the first time with him accompanying her. He stumbled past a messy foyer, cluttered with worn gloves, stained work aprons, three sets of boots, and into the kitchen his mother had spent most of her days.

“It isn’t much; I just saw your forge fires glowing and knew you had not gone to the bishop’s for the kinner’s recital. I hope this is okay.” Grace was cute when she rambled nervously. He expected a few nerves himself, but none came.

“It’s perfect. A man tends to get tired of eating alone. Why didn’t you go to the school tonight? I thought Tess would have invited you,” he said a little harshly.

“Women get tired of eating alone, too, and yes Aenti Tess offered. So did Betty, Elli, and even Hannah offered to send Andy to drive me,” she added, setting a small basket of biscuits down at his table. “I really don’t belong here and it doesn’t feel right joining in all the holiday gatherings. Besides, Aenti Tess says it’s best not to ride in the buggy much now.”

“You belong here, Grace,” he said intently before walking toward the refrigerator. She wished that were true.

Her eyes lingered over the pine boughs and cones. Grace always found pine scents to be the scent of Christmas. She was glad to see he was the kind of man who didn’t mind the Christmas season scattered about. Her gaze softened. She no longer called him an intruder and accepted the little touches he was slowly adding to her life. He could only hope he was making her life easier, better, and by the way she floated over the floor and gingerly pulled two forks from a drawer to his right, he thought he had. He wanted her to feel at home, both among his things and with him.

“Water or sweet tea?” Cullen retrieved two glasses and filled his with tea.

“Sweet tea would be wunderbarr.” He chuckled at the way Grace stretched out her last word. “Don’t laugh. I haven’t had sweet tea in months, and that was at a McDonalds.”

…

A buggy pulled up and Grace shot to her feet. She could just imagine what some would say about her being here.

“You don’t have to jump every time someone comes around.” Cullen got to his feet and shuffled toward the door. “Finish your supper. It’s too good to waste.”

“I don’t want to cause you any problems. I can just slip out the back and no one will know that I am here. Cullen stopped just as someone knocked at the door, and turned to face her. Did he have a better idea? She waited. Surely he didn’t want whispers with his name carried in them.

“Please don’t,” he said before walking away to answer his door. She hadn’t expected that. Grace fought between following his wants and doing what was best for him. Voices rattled in the foyer and she had only seconds to decide. Grace leaned on the back of her chair, feeling dizzy. Her heart couldn’t take it, but just as she decided to flee, Cullen stepped into the room with Caleb and Mirim. When they both beamed smiles, she thought she just might faint.

“Grace is spoiling me. Kumm. Join us,” Cullen urged the pair to sit. Mirim had introduced herself months ago at church, but since then Grace hadn’t shared a single word with her. She didn’t know Caleb well, but he had always been polite.

“We have a few slices of pumpkin pie left. Want a slice?” Cullen asked as he pulled two more plates from the cabinets.

“Never one to turn down pie. I thought you would be at the recital tonight.” Caleb said.

“And yet you drove to my haus in the middle of nowhere?” Cullen gave him a sharp grin.

“Mirim had to work late and she mentioned she wanted to look in on Grace,” Caleb answered and Grace stiffened. Why would someone she hadn’t spoken two words to want to look in on her?

Sensing her confusion, Mirim reached out and touched her sleeve. “I have been so busy with work and planning the wedding, I feel I have been a bad neighbor. I hope you will forgive me.”

“Of course,” Grace said. What was there to forgive? Mirim didn’t know her and had no reason to feel guilty for not having the time to do so.

“I hear you make the best fried pies around, and from the look of this one, it must be truth,” Caleb said as he helped Mirim to a seat. Grace’e eyes went from Caleb to Cullen. Did no one mind her being here?

“I heard you sent Freeman Hilty running home crying,” Mirim added with a giggle. Her eyes were almost the same shade of green as her dress. Grace always thought green eyes were attractive.

“Danke, Grace. I always wanted to be brave enough to do that. If not for Caleb here I don’t think I would have ever rid myself of him.” She floated Caleb a sweet smile.

“I’m not brave, but I was glad to do it.” Mirim and Caleb laughed. Grace turned her attention back to Cullen who was grinning ear to ear as he cut four healthy slices of pie and placed them on little brown saucers. He didn’t seem to mind that it was a woman’s duty, and she mentally struggled over whether she should take charge or leave things as they were. If she acted too familiar, Caleb and Mirim might get the wrong impression. Maybe they didn’t see her sins as much as she thought. Grace took her seat and let out a breath.

“I say we play a game. How about Pictionary, or do you have a favorite, Grace?” Mirim was asking her like she mattered. Like she was one of them. Grace peered across the table while Cullen shoved a healthy portion of pie into his mouth. He must really like pumpkin. She mentally stashed the thought away. When he smiled with swelled cheeks, Grace almost burst into laughter. How did she ever get so lucky to be here with such good freinden?

“Pictionary is gut,” Grace answered. Tonight she belonged.