Chapter Twenty-Eight

Grace folded the few gowns and the small quilt she had sewn together for her baby and placed them in the cardboard box. The treadle sewing machine had been a great help, considering she had never sewed as well as Charity. The stitches were tighter and stronger than if she had attempted them by hand. She eyed the greens and blues of the fabric and anticipated her baby wearing something she had produced with her own hands. That made her smile.

It was a shame there would be no dresser to store them in. She slid the box under the foot of her bed, careful not to crush Stella in the process—a yellow puff, the same color as the fudge Betty brought her wrapped with a red ribbon when she invited Grace to join her family for Christmas dinner. Elli had already secured Second Christmas. If Grace was going to be away from her own family this Christmas, she couldn’t imagine more suitable substitutes than those two.

Betty made her think, more than she had, about leaving versus staying. Was it selfish to want to stay, to want Cullen and a life with him? Was it selfish to have written Jared that letter? She knew what she wanted, what her heart longed for, and all of it was right here in Walnut Ridge.

While still on her knees, she rubbed her middle and spoke softly. “Hiya, wee one.”

Stella tilted her head as if the words were meant for her. But since the hiccup episode, the vibrant life growing within Grace was moving less often, and she tried to stir it. An assuring pressure from her bladder to her backbone, evidence all was well, just growing cramped, eased her concerns. Did all women worry like this?

She had barely a week left, if all went as it should, and soon after that she was expected home. It would be a new year in an old life. She would write her mother and explain her decision to not marry Leon Strolzfus. She knew this news would be taken as disobedience, but Betty was correct—Grace was a grown woman, and she couldn’t be forced to marry.

Grace bit her lip until the warm salty taste of blood forced her to let go. Did she dare write her mamm and also tell her that she would not return at all? That everything she could ever want, even the sinner’s shack, was right here in Walnut Ridge? Her father had sent her here as punishment. He would surely be angry if she claimed to have fallen in love with Cullen.

Infatuation was a trickster on a young heart, and in these few months away from her family, among people who nurtured her into adulthood, loved her without consequences, Grace now spotted the difference. Her feelings for Cullen ran deeper than she ever thought possible. So deep, his needs blotted out any of her own. To see his loneliness fade, to make his heart flutter at a smile as hers did, to feel his strong presence beside her every day and be his in turn, to laugh with him over silly mishaps, was somehow more important than anything she could hope for. Cullen never criticized, only complimented, and they could truly enjoy a life together. Her baking, him blacksmithing, and the long walks she could easily imagine would be nothing short of bliss. She shook her head free from overworrying. What she felt for him was not selfish.

The small room that always held more heat than required to keep the cold away had fallen to an uncomfortable temperature. Betty said a snow was moving in. Cullen would fetch her for morning breakfast and service tomorrow so as not to risk her safety or that of her boppli’s by walking over the hill in such frigid weather, but she wondered if the weather would taper off before then. She glanced out the window, heavy clusters of snow raining down like a waterfall.

She stepped out to gather as much wood as she could before the cold took over. Looking across the hill in search of the lantern that reminded her daily she was safe and watched out for, she could see nothing but a hint of yellow through blowing white. The weather had come in faster than she’d expected it would. In only a couple of hours since Betty’s leaving, two inches of snow had fallen. And that was on top of the three still crisp from this morning. By midnight it would not surprise her if the valley would be blanketed in a foot of the stuff. Carrying only four sticks at a time, she was glad Cullen had cut the slices to half of what she had been accustomed to.

“Calm, little one,” she whispered again, dropping the wood into the box that had just appeared out of nowhere the day she went shopping with Elli. Cullen was good for that, dependable, seeing to her every need as she made certain little needs of his were tended to as well. “You must not be impatient, wee one. We have another week before meeting.” The words were not only to convince the soreness of her back to ease, but also her mind.

She massaged her lower back and after a few minutes, the stiffness had eased. Shaking her head, she put aside the concern and went to pick up her sewing, the material scraps for a quilt she had set aside upon Betty’s arrival.

Pumping the treadle, she felt the pain return once more. It was the sewing machine that had made her muscles sore. That made sense, she told herself. Retrieving a pillow from her bed, she carefully positioned it on her lower back and relaxed farther into the soft feel. The quilt had to be finished in time. She needed to press forward.

Once the rhythm of the sewing machine needle flowed into cadence again, Grace focused on the birth of Christ and how tomorrow it would be celebrated with friends. Christmas made her homesick for Mutter. “Christmas,” she whispered. She had never known a Christmas without her family. The cookies and pies, the ham she and Mutter prepared. Everyone was always smiling, and people gathered and visited one another on Second Christmas more often than any other time of the year. This year she would not be with her family, but she was thankful she wouldn’t be alone, either.

The smell of baking bread reaching a point of ready, spread through her room, and she slowly got to her feet. She opened the oven door, and a wave of heat rushed her face. “Perfect,” she said, smiling at the single loaf tucked in the center of the oven’s warmth, its perfectly toned top browned to perfection.

Cooking on this beast of an old stove wasn’t so bad any longer. Cullen loved fresh bread, and she loved the look he gave her when she made it. He also liked her gravy, and she glanced at the cast iron skillet on the back of the stove where fried rabbit lay smothered in thick pepper gravy. Thinking of him, she glanced toward the door, as if just thinking of him could make him appear. The pounding of hammer, steel, and anvil had quieted long ago, muffled out by the growing wind. Why he was working on Christmas Eve was beyond her. The man never slowed, another admirable trait of his.

He insisted she not travel any longer, but Grace insisted he join her for at least one meal a day for all his kindness. She hoped he would come but understood if he had other obligations with the holiday. With both feet slightly apart, she bent forward and pulled the pan from the oven.

The front door blew open, smacking into the wall behind it. Grace jolted upright, sending the hot pan to the wooden floor.

“Grace!” Cullen dropped an armload of kindling in the box and was at her side in a matter of seconds. “Let me get it. You might burn yourself.”

Clutching her chest from the sudden startle, Grace smiled at him. His black hat was now clumped with white, his burly shoulders, much the same.

“Or you might burn yourself.” Here he was, just as she hoped he would be. Strangely, instead of his sunny smile or flirtatious grin, Cullen’s lips were pursed tightly, his teeth clenched. “Are you mad at me for dropping the bread?” He didn’t seem to be the kind of man who ruffled at such an accidental thing. He had been the one who startled her, after all. “You know, you did come bursting in here and gave me a fright.” He closed his eyes, sighing heavily. Opening them again, he scooped up the loaf and pan and deposited them on the stove.

“I could never be angry with you, Grace. Never.” On bended knee, he reached for her hand, the dry callused flesh of a man who worked hard for what he had, and he gave it a squeeze before letting go. A tingle ran from her hand, up her arm, and straight to her hairline. “It was my fault. I should have knocked, but my arms were full and the wind is picking up out there. And maybe I was a little eager to see you.” There was that boyish grin, smoldering out whatever first consumed him. Cullen retreated back to the door and secured it.

“Then you are forgiven,” she said playfully. “Now don’t be running off. I made your favorite. Unless Beth Zook or Sara Shrock have already seen to your supper.” She lifted her chin, a grin spreading like warm butter across her face. Under the brim of his hat, his eyes smiled before his lips did. Stella crossed the floor and went to him, licking snow from his boot.

“Neither cook as well as you do,” he said matter-of-factly. There went the tingles again. She turned from him, from eyes that had a way of sucking her in, to set the table.

…

Grace did make the best gravy he had ever eaten, so why did his stomach still sour? He knew why. He needed to tell her what he did, how he interfered. Not telling was as good as a lie, and no relationship needed to start with lies.

“Daed always read from Luke this night,” she muttered, picking up their plates and depositing them in the sink. She was homesick. Missing the family she had been away from. “Do you still miss your parents the way you did that first Christmas without them?” She turned to face him, a look of regret on her face.

Cullen lifted the empty cast-iron pan smeared with bread crumbs and went to her. “Let me take care of this. You cooked. I’ll clean while you rest.”

“I’m sorry, Cullen. I should not have asked such a thing.”

“I will always miss them. But no, time makes that easier. I will never forget them, but they are with the Lord this Christmas. What a thing to be so privileged.”

A few black strands escaped her kapp, dancing and tickling her delicate neckline. The urge to reach out, brush them away, warmed him just as it did the first time he lifted her in his arms.

“Fetch your Bible,” he suggested. She looked up, wide-eyed and hopeful. What man couldn’t find joy in that?

“Really?” The way she spoke it, lifted his heart, his soul. She was so easy to love. Would she still look at him with such admiration, such wanting, if she knew he had sent Jared away? He had to tell her. No future could be found where secrets stood between, and he wanted the chance for that future, the one he was dreaming of more and more as days passed.

Grace disappeared into her bedroom and reemerged with her Bible. Plain and perfect, just like her. She flipped to Luke and set the Bible down on the table in front of the sturdy chair he built, then rounded the table and eased into the other chair.

Cullen took his seat and cleared his throat. His daed also read about the birth of Jesus when he was young. Cullen had set aside the thoughts that one day he might do the same for his own kinner, but now hope replaced that acceptance. Would this be the first of many, or after this moment would he never have the chance again?

He needed to tell her and face the consequences.

…

Fifteen minutes later, lamplight flickered over the cabin walls, and Grace wiped a tear from her eye. The miraculous birth was better than any romance novel her sister had shared with her. What a strong faith Mary had; what a stronger faith Joseph had. If everyone trusted the Lord that flawlessly, there would be a lot less sin in this world.

Cullen’s voice had a way of soothing the soul. The story of Mary and Joseph had given her something she had not expected when she first mentioned the family tradition. Regardless of how she knew the story by heart, tonight it, as well as the man sitting across from her, had given her a glimpse of hope.

She could never leave him. She could never leave Walnut Ridge. She could see no other life before her without this man by her side. “Danke, Cullen,” she said quietly.

He nodded. “Grace, I have something I need to tell you.”

“Okay.” She stood and went to retrieve her Bible.

“I have done something I shouldn’t have. Something that might upset you.” What could a man like Cullen Graber possibly do that would upset her? It couldn’t be too serious.

She chuckled. “Then maybe you shouldn’t tell me. Likely it would be best I never know.”

He stood and took a step back, lowering his head as if burdened with shame. All humor died in her, seeing him so defeated.

“I care for you, Grace. I don’t think this surprises you,” he said.

She smiled bashfully. Was he afraid she would think less of him for caring for her after what she had done? Quite the opposite, she admired his ability to see over her past mistakes and find himself willing to be present in her life.

“I care for you, too,” she admitted.

“Then you have to know this. I was selfish…and did something I shouldn’t have.”

“If this is about you and Freeman, you don’t have to tell me. I figured you said something to him, since he has stopped pestering me,” she said with a grin.

Cullen stepped closer and took both her hands. Worry and regret marred his handsome features. Grace felt her heart go out to him. He was serious and troubled. Now she was starting to feel a bit worried about what he was about to tell her.

Cullen opened his mouth, looking as if he was carefully deciding the words he needed. Grace found it adorable. Cullen was always so calm and never flinched at what needed saying. It was nice to see this side of him. He had seen so much of her messy weaknesses, and now she was seeing his.

Three knocks shattered Cullen’s next words, and the door behind them opened.

“Hello, Gracie.” That was the sound of the last person Grace had ever expected to be standing in her doorway. Taking a deep breath, sending up a prayer for strength, Grace turned from her future to face her past.

Jared looked even more handsome than she remembered in his military uniform, compared to the boy in jeans and T-shirts she was once accustomed to. He looked older, and larger than before. He was grinning, as if happy to see her. She blinked away the shock of his presence, and the true him reappeared. That disappointed look she had carried here with her when he said he didn’t love her and that he had no plans to love the child inside her, either.

Six months had changed a lot, for both of them. Had he not received her letter?

Grace swallowed hard. Jared was a reminder of a place and a family she had missed in the loneliness, and he was also a past that had caused her many tears. She turned to Cullen and slowly lifted her gaze to meet his.

“Is this the bad thing you did. Did you tell him where to find me?” Her voice was shaking, but there was nothing she could do about that as betrayal ran like fire through her veins. What had started out as a day of sewing and baking and fellowship with the people dearest to her had turned faster than a twister on laundry day.

“He certainly didn’t tell me a thing,” Jared snarled. “In fact, he refused to, as did the rest of your neighbors, but now I can see why.” Jared narrowed his gaze at the nearness of Cullen next to her. “I stopped at some Amish buggy shop down the road and they told me where to find you.” Of course Grace could count on the Hiltys for this visit. “Now those Amish have no problem telling a man what he needs to know.”

Grace closed her eyes and swallowed the acidy bile climbing up her throat. With wrecked nerves and an aching back, she wanted to go to her room, slam the door shut. She knew this day might come, hoped it wouldn’t, but wasn’t truly prepared.

“I wanted to see you,” Jared said, stepping farther into the room. “I got your letter.”

“Then you should have not kumm,” she said sharply. “I wrote you not to. We have nothing to say to each other.” She didn’t dare turn around to read Cullen’s thoughts on the matter. She still hadn’t decided whether she was angry with him or not.

“You look beautiful,” Jared said.

She was as round as a volleyball and swollen from cheeks to toes. It was just one more lie to add to his list of attributes.

He cautiously came closer. Grace took two steps back until she felt the strength and warmth of Cullen against her. He placed a gentle hand on one shoulder and she straightened taller in it. This time, facing the hardships of her life, she knew Cullen was letting her know in his own way that she didn’t have to face them alone. He had just admitted to caring for her. Despite already knowing this, she felt the words had been a balm to her scattered concerns.

Like Betty said, some things in life we have to face head on, and she was stronger now thanks to Cullen and the friends she had come to know.

Jared shot Cullen an angry glare. “Mind if I talk to the mother of my child alone?” Jared moved closer to her, and Cullen moved in front of her, directly in Jared’s line of sight.

“I have dealt with bigger than you,” Jared said to him. “Grace knows I wouldn’t put a hand on her, and this is none of your concern. We have things to talk about, so you best scuttle back down to your little cave and play with your hammers.”

Cullen stepped forward, and Grace tugged his coat sleeve. “Nee. This is not our way.”

“I can fix this,” Cullen turned back to her and said.

But it was not their way to entertain violence, and knowing Cullen would never let anything or anyone bring her harm brought a lone tear to her eye. The love she felt for this man was overflowing. Those four little words meant more to her than reliable doors and sturdy chairs.

They meant everything.

He could fix this, she had no doubt. Proof of his ability to fix the broken stood beside him, looking up at him, and admiring him.

“I know you can. But this is not for you to fix,” she said honestly, conviction in her voice. “You didn’t break it. Some things a person has to fix by themselves.”

His eyes acknowledged her reasoning, and Grace knew he agreed with it, but she also knew he didn’t like it.

“Cullen, it is all recht.” She forced a grin. “Trust me,” she said.

Jared cleared his throat. “Grace.”

Neither she nor Cullen broke their connection at the sound of Jared’s voice. The man who ran away from her, from his responsibilities, wasn’t even in the room at all. The same tingle that went from her hand to her hairline returned. She watched Cullen’s lips move, avoiding eyes that were lacking faith, and wished she could kiss them and let him know just how much she loved him.

“I don’t want to make the same mistakes I once did. There are things I wanted to tell you, things I have…”

“And there are things I want to say to you. But first I must do this. Can’t leave the henhouse door open, now can we?” she joked.

One corner of his mouth lifted slightly, but she could see he wasn’t convinced of her ability to handle Jared alone. “Go back home. I will see you at Christmas, jah?”

He perked up at that, a secret confirmation that she still intended to join him. If he asked her to promise, she wouldn’t. The sky might fall or something, and she was no liar. But unless that sky fell, she would be sitting across the table from him at Christmas breakfast. Stella purred against her ankles and Cullen lifted the kitten from the floor and stroked her buttercream coat with a gentleness she knew even a giant his size possessed.

“I will go.” He handed her the kitten, his gift on days he was busy making a living. The thought warmed her heart each time she entertained it. “But I won’t be happy about it.” He grinned and lightly brushed her cheek with the warm crack of his knuckles, his eyes finding her lips.

If they were alone, she imagined he would have kissed her right then. The very thought sent shivers all through her. If the last four minutes were any indication of what a life with Cullen Graber would be like, she was the most blessed woman on earth.

Cullen slowly walked to the door. Jared didn’t dare watch him leave but stood like the soldier he was, waiting for Cullen’s exit. When the door shut, Grace whispered a silent prayer. “Gott, you led me here. You had a plan all along, and I am thankful I can now see it, but please give me your words, for mine are not worthy for what I am about to face.”