Her Amish Christmas Choice

Now why had she told Martin all of that? She didn’t know him. Not really. Yet she had confided some deeply personal things to him. She stiffened her spine, hoping Martin didn’t make fun of her.

“I’m sorry you lost your vadder,” he said. “You and your mudder must have gone through a very difficult ordeal. But I’m so glad you recognize how the Lord has blessed you. I believe when we think all is lost, that is when Gott is testing us, to see if we will call on Him in faith or in anger. Yet, He doesn’t leave us comfortless. He is always with us if we seek Him out.”

Martin’s words touched her heart like nothing else could. For a moment, she felt as though God truly was close to her. That He wasn’t a remote, disinterested God, who was withdrawn and didn’t really care about her and Mom.

“Hank, don’t climb so far. Komm down now. It’s time for us to get back to work,” Martin called to his brother.

Turning her head, Julia saw that the boy was high in the elm, clinging to a heavy branch. The boy looked over at them, saw Julia and immediately scrambled down.

The enchanted moment was broken. Although she’d like nothing better, Julia realized she couldn’t sit here all day chatting with Martin. She had plenty of work to do. Honestly, she was stunned that Martin was so easy to talk to.

“Well, I’d better get inside and help Mom. Thank you for answering my questions.” She came to her feet, dusting off her blue jeans.

“Anytime,” he said.

Hank came running, a huge smile on his face. “Hallo, Julia. Did you see how high I climbed?”

“Miss Rose,” Martin corrected the boy with a stern lift of his eyebrows.

Hank ignored his brother, focusing on Julia. “I went higher than ever before. I could even see the top of your roof. You have a big hole up there where the shingles have blown away.”

Julia blinked, then glanced at Martin. “Oh, dear. A hole in the roof? And winter is coming on.”

“Don’t worry. As soon as I’ve completed the porch, I’ll take a look at it,” Martin said.

“But there are so many other chores needing to be done. I didn’t even think about the roof.” A feeling of helpless dread almost overwhelmed her.

“Never fear. The Lord will bless us and it’ll all get done.”

Martin sounded so confident. So sure of himself. So filled with conviction. She couldn’t help envying his faith. His words of reassurance brought her a bit of comfort, but what if he was wrong? What if they didn’t get the workroom set up in time?

She had been making single batches of soap up in the tiny kitchen of their apartment almost every evening but that would only satisfy the grand opening of their store on December 1. It would take her four weeks of making super batches of soap to satisfy her wholesale contract, and the soap required four to five weeks to cure after it was made. She must ship her orders by the end of January in order to meet her next contract deadline the first of February. So much was riding on her being able to make soap by the end of November. By the end of December, she had to have most of the soap made.

As she went inside, Julia hoped Martin was right.

The pressure was on. Martin knew Julia was worried. He could see it in her eyes. He’d heard the urgency in her voice and could feel the apprehension emanating from her like a living thing. If Hank was right and there was a big hole in the roof, it would need to be repaired before the autumn rains began, which was any day now. Depending on what needed to be done, it could suck up precious time he needed to build the shelves and countertops for her workroom.

It was Martin’s job to get it all done in time for her to open her shop. He felt the seriousness of the situation as though his own livelihood depended on it. His reputation was on the line. He’d been doing a lot of carpentry work for people in the community and wanted to increase his business as a side job for more income to build his barn and, one day, his new house. He also wanted to make Julia happy and ease her load in any way possible.

Working as fast as he could, he built the framework of the awning first. Standing on the rickety ladder, he affixed the lag bolts. Satisfied with his labors, he looked down at Hank, who had wandered over to peer through the store windows. No doubt he was looking for Julia.

“Hank!”

The boy jerked, looking guilty. Martin resisted the urge to smile.

“Hand me up those two-by-six boards,” he called.

Hank lifted a four-by-six board instead.

“Ne, that’s the wrong one. I need the two-by-six.” Martin forced himself to speak gently, although he felt impatient for his brother’s mistake. It was costing him precious time.

Hank laid a hand on the smaller boards and looked up at him with a questioning gaze.

“Ja, those are the right ones. That’s gut. Hand them up.”

Martin reached out a hand as Hank lifted the boards one by one so he could nail them into place. By the time he’d laid the furring strips over top of the frame, it was almost dinnertime. He’d accomplished a lot today but should soon start for home. Mamm would be expecting them. He would finish up tomorrow. The weather should hold for a couple more days so he could repair the roof. For now, it was time to leave.

“You’ve done a fine job today.”

He turned and saw Julia standing off to the side of the porch, looking up at him. Hank immediately raced over to stand beside her, gazing at her with adulation.

“I helped,” Hank said.

She blessed him with a smile so bright that Martin had to blink. “Of course you did.”

Hank beamed at her. “Do you like to sing?”

Martin stiffened, knowing what his brother was about to ask. “Not now, Hank.”

Hank threw a disgruntled glare at his older brother. “But I want to ask her—”

“It’s not the right time,” Martin said.

Julia hesitated, looking back and forth between the two. In a bit of confusion, she spoke to Martin as she inspected his work with a critical eye. “I didn’t expect you to get the porch finished today, but it looks almost complete.”

“Ja, it has come together well. I’ll put on the finishing touches and paint it first thing in the morning. I hope it is satisfactory,” he said.

“It’s more than satisfactory. It’s beautiful. If I didn’t know better, I would say it was never damaged. You’ve cleaned up every bit of mess, too. I can’t even tell you worked on it today.”

As her gaze scanned the porch and awning, he could see her searching for any imperfections. He climbed down and set the ladder aside for his use tomorrow.

“My daed taught me to tidy up after work,” he said.

She tilted her head. “Your dat?”

“Ja, my dad.”

“Oh, your father,” she said.

“Ja, my vadder.”

He’d swept up the sawdust and discarded nails and placed them in a large garbage can. Mamm told him that his fastidiousness was bothersome to some of the Amish girls, which was one reason they didn’t want to marry him. But instead of being irritated by his meticulous work, Julia seemed to approve. For some crazy reason, that delighted Martin like nothing else could.

She nodded with satisfaction. “I do like it very much. With a coat of paint, it’ll look perfect.”

While Julia watched, he packed his tools away in the toolbox. When he was finished, he faced her again. “We’d better get going. We’ll see you in the morning.”

“Yes, see you tomorrow.” She waved and turned away, going back inside.

Martin climbed into the buggy with Hank and directed the horse toward the main road. He’d worked hard today, yet he didn’t feel tired. No, not at all. Instead, he felt rejuvenated and eager to do a good job for Julia Rose.

When he pulled into the graveled driveway at home, his father was just coming from the barn, carrying two buckets of frothy white milk. His mother, sisters and other brother had just finished feeding the chickens and pigs.

“Martin! Hank! You’re finally home.” His mother waved, a huge smile on her cheery face.

Emily, Susan and Timmy came running, surrounding him and Hank as they hopped up and down with excitement.

“Did you get the job?” thirteen-year-old Emily asked, her face alight with expectation.

“You must have got the job because you’ve been gone all day,” little eight-year-old Timmy reasoned.

Martin laughed as he swung seven-year-old Susan high into the air. The girl squealed with delight. Their greeting warmed his heart. How he loved them all. He thought about Julia having only her mother to come home to. It must be so lonely for her.

“Supper’s about ready. Komm inside and tell us about your day.” His father stepped up on the porch, his words silencing the children’s incessant questions. At the age of forty-nine, David was the patriarch of the home and still strong and muscular from working long hours of manual labor.

“I’ll just put the road horse in his stall and toss him some hay,” Martin said.

Linda, his mother, waved an impatient hand. As the matriarch of the familye, she was just as confident in her role as David was. “Ne, Timmy can do that. You and Hank komm inside now. I want to hear all about your day.”

“Ah, don’t say anything important while I’m gone,” Timmy called. But the boy obediently took hold of the horse’s halter and led him into the barn.

Once they were inside, they washed and sat down at the spacious table in the kitchen. Mamm had already laid out the plates and utensils. The room was warm and smelled of something good cooking on the stove. With six hungry children and a husband to feed, Linda always made plenty. Only Martin’s nineteen-year-old sister, Karen, was missing. She was newly married and lived back east with her husband.

“Ach, did you get the job?” His father sat down and looked at him expectantly.

“Ja, we got the job,” Hank answered for him. The boy beamed with eagerness and Martin didn’t have the heart to scold him for speaking out of turn. After all, the job was his, too.

Martin smiled with tolerance and purposefully waited until Timmy returned from the barn before speaking. Because they prayed before eating, they had to wait for the boy anyway.

Once everyone was assembled, David beckoned to his wife. “Mudder, komm and sit.”

David pointed at her chair and Martin watched as his mother sat at the opposite end of the table, nearest the stove. As each member of the familye bowed their head to bless the food, he couldn’t help loving this nightly ritual. His mom was always up and buzzing around the table to see to everyone’s needs. But during evening prayer, she sat reverently with her familye for these few minutes while they gave thanks to the Lord.

When they were finished, everyone dug in and she hopped up to pull a pan of fresh-baked cornbread from the oven.

“Hank and I will be doing handyman work.” Martin speared two pork chops and laid them on his plate. The clatter of utensils and eating filled the room, but no one spoke as they waited to hear every word he said.

“What kind of handyman work?” David asked as he spread golden butter across a hot piece of cornbread.

Martin sliced off a piece of meat and popped it into his mouth. He chewed for several moments before swallowing, then explained his tasks and asked his father’s advice on how to assemble the cabinets in Julia’s workroom. The conversation bounced around various topics but kept coming back to his new job.

“Julia’s nice, too. She’s real schee.” Hank spoke with his mouth full of cooked carrots.

David’s bushy eyebrows shot up and he looked at Martin. “Julia?”

“Ja, Julia Rose. She’s my new boss,” Martin said. “She lives with her mudder in that old building Walter Rose owned. Apparently, Julia was his granddaughter. It seems that old Walt died a couple months back and left the place to her. She’s renovating it so she can sell handmade soap.”

“Soap?” David said the word abruptly, like it didn’t make sense.

Martin shrugged and took a long drink of fresh milk. “Ja, she sells it to stores across the nation.”

“Humph, I guess the Englisch don’t make their own so they have to buy it somewhere,” David said. “But I thought you’d be working for a man. How old is this Julia?”

Martin took a deep breath, trying to answer truthfully while not alarming his father. After all, it wasn’t seemly that an unmarried Amish man should be working for a young, attractive Englisch woman. “She’s twenty-three but she stays in the house most of the time while Hank and I work outside. The job is only for six or seven weeks, so it’ll be over with soon enough.”

His father’s gaze narrowed and rested on him like a ten-ton sledge. Martin felt as though the man were looking deep inside of him for the truth. Linda also paused in front of the counter where she was slicing big wedges of cherry pie. She didn’t say anything, waiting for her husband’s verdict on this turn of events, but Martin could tell from her expression that she was worried.

“Ach, I guess you’ve got Hank with you all the time, so you’re not alone with this woman,” David finally said. “And once it’s done, you’ll have enough money to build your barn in the spring. But don’t forget who you are and what Gott expects from you, sohn. Always remember your faith.”

“I will,” Martin assured him.

“But she’s Englisch. Are you sure this is wise?” Linda asked, her brow furrowed in a deep frown.

“Mamm, don’t worry,” Martin reassured her with a short laugh. “I’m a grown man and know how to handle myself. Besides, it’s only for a short time. It isn’t as if I’m going to fall in love and leave our faith or something crazy like that, so rest your fears.”

“And besides, Julia’s gonna be my maedel, not Mar-tin’s,” Hank said.

David and Linda shared a look of concern, to which Martin quickly explained the boy’s desire for Julia to be his girl. “I’ve already told Hank that Julia isn’t Amish and she’s too old for him anyway.”

Without missing a beat, Martin’s sister Emily handed him a bowl of boiled potatoes. Martin forked several onto his plate. The whole familye knew the drill, having discussed issues like this a zillion times before.

“Why does it matter if Julia isn’t Amish?” Hank asked with a frown.

Linda shook her head and shooed Hank’s question away with her hand. “She’s not of our faith. She’s not one of us.” Handing plates of pie to Emily to pass around the table, she leaned against the counter and faced Martin again. “So, tell us something about this woman boss of yours.”

Taking a bite of buttered potato, Martin kept his voice slow and even, trying not to say anything that might overly alarm his mother. “She and her mudder live a simple life like us. They don’t wear makeup or fancy clothes. Nor do they own a car or use electricity. Julia has even asked me a couple of questions about our faith. And she’s devoted to her mudder, who is sickly.”

Linda winced with sympathy. “What’s wrong with her?”

“She has lupus. Julia’s father recently died of cancer. Julia’s been earning a living for them and taking care of her parents. From what I can see, she’s a gut, hardworking woman.”

“But she’s not Amish,” David said, his bushy eyebrows raised in a stern look that allowed for no more discussion on the matter.

Linda stepped near and rested a hand on Martin’s shoulder. “Ach, you’ll be careful not to be drawn in by her, won’t you, sohn? I couldn’t bear to lose you. You’ll remember what your vadder and I have taught you and stay true to your faith.”

He met his mother’s eyes, his convictions filling his heart. He could never stand to hurt her by chasing after an Englisch woman. “You don’t need to worry about me, Mamm. I will only marry someone of our faith. This I vow.”

“Gut. It’s too bad you can’t convert Julia to our faith.” Linda showed a smile of relief and finally sat down to eat her own supper. The conversation turned to what the younger children were learning in school.

Martin ate his meal, listening to the chatter around him. He’d done his best to alleviate his parents’ concerns but knew they were worried. And he agreed that it was too bad Julia wasn’t Amish. If she were, his parents would have no reservations about him working with her.

As he carried his dishes over to the sink for washing, he listened to Hank’s incessant chatter and a feeling of expectancy built within his chest. He couldn’t wait to return to work in the morning and be near Julia again. And though he refused to consider the options, he knew deep inside that it had little to do with the money he would earn and more to do with his pretty employer.

But he meant what he’d said. He would marry an Amish woman or not at all.

Chapter Three

The following morning, Julia glanced at the clock she’d hung on the wall in her spacious workroom. She blinked, hardly able to believe it was barely five o’clock. She’d been up for two hours already. Like many mornings, she couldn’t sleep, so she’d started work early.

After she completed several tasks, faint sunlight filtered through the dingy windows, highlighting the bare wooden floors with streamers of dust. She really must wash the windows today, before she painted the walls. That should brighten things up quite a bit. With the delays from yesterday, she feared Martin might not have time for everything needing to be done. Careful not to let Mom work too hard, Julia had helped her clear most of the boxes and junk out of the room, stacking them in the backyard. Above all, her priority was to get the soap room operational. But a hole in the roof could create worse problems down the road.

Squinting her eyes, she worked by kerosene light. She’d acquired an old stainless steel sink from the discount store in town and wanted it ready once Martin built the cabinets she required. Using a mild cleanser, she scrubbed at a particularly grimy spot. The sink’s two spacious tubs would accommodate the big pots she used for soap making.

Martin would be here in a few hours to finish the porch. Then he’d check the condition of the roof. After that, she wanted him to—

Tap-tap-tap.

She looked up, thinking the sound came from above. Had Mom awakened early and was doing something inside their apartment? She caught the deep timbre of a man’s voice coming from outside but wasn’t sure. It came again, followed by Hank’s unique accent. She glanced at the wall clock and discovered it was almost eight. Ah, her handymen were already here and the sun was barely up.

“Be careful with that paint, Hank. You don’t want to spill any.” Martin’s muffled voice reached her ears.

Sitting back, Julia set aside the soft sponge. In her warm slippers, she padded over to the window and peered out.

Martin and Hank stood side by side in front of the porch as they perused their handiwork. Each of them held a brush that gleamed with white paint. Martin also clutched the handle of a paint bucket. No doubt they’d been trimming the porch and front of the building. A feeling of elation swept over Julia. She couldn’t wait for it all to be finished.

Martin had rolled the long sleeves of his shirt up his muscular arms. A smear of white paint marred his angular chin. Hank also wore several smatters of paint on his forearms and clothes. In the early morning sunlight, Julia caught the gleam of bright trim on the post nearest to the window but couldn’t see the rest of the porch from this angle. And all that work had been done while she was cleaning the new sink.

Hmm. Dallin had never worked this hard. He’d rather laze around and borrow money from Julia, which he never paid back. Maybe it was a blessing she hadn’t married him after all.

Walking over to the front door, she flipped the dead bolt, turned the knob and stepped out onto the porch. In that short amount of time, Martin had climbed to the top of the rickety ladder leading up to the roof. Hank held the ladder steady from below. Busy with their labors, they hadn’t noticed her yet. She watched as Martin dipped his brush into a bucket of paint he’d set on the pail shelf, then touched up a spot high on the side of the awning. As he concentrated on his work, he pressed the tip of his tongue against his upper lip.

The ladder trembled.

“Hold it steady, Hank. Just a few more spots and we’ll be finished. Then we can start on the roof.” Martin spoke without looking down.

Fearing she might break his concentration, Julia didn’t say anything. A tabby cat crossing the road caught Hank’s attention. Julia knew the animal was named Tigger and belonged to Essie Walkins, the elderly widow who lived two houses down. Tail high in the air, the feline picked its way across the abandoned street. No doubt it was hoping to cajole Julia out of a bowl of milk. She’d fed the cat many times, much to her mother’s chagrin. Sharon didn’t like strays.

Seeing the feline, Hank abandoned his post and hurried toward Tigger. Without the boy’s weight to hold the ladder steady, it shuddered uncontrollably.

Julia gasped as Martin grabbed on to the gutter to keep from falling. She rushed over and gripped the sides of the ladder, staring up at him with widened eyes. The ladder stabilized but too late. The bucket of paint plummeted to the ground with a heavy thud. Julia scrunched her shoulders, hoping she wouldn’t get hit in the head by the falling object. Spatters of white struck the outer wall of the building, the mass of paint pooling in the middle of the wooden porch.

“Oh, no!” Julia breathed in exasperation.

Martin stared down at her with absolute shock. Likewise, Julia was so stunned that she was held immobile for several seconds. Then, Martin hurried down the ladder, his angular face torn by an expression of dread.

“Ach, Julia! Are you all right? The bucket didn’t hit you, did it?” He rested a gentle hand on her arm, his dark eyes filled with concern as he searched her expression.

She shook her head. “No, it missed me. I’m fine.”

Satisfied she was okay, Martin stepped away. She could still feel the warmth of his strong fingers tingling against her skin. As he perused the mess, his lips tightened. Then, his gaze sought out his recalcitrant brother.

Hank stood in the middle of the vacant street, clutching the tabby cat close against his chest as he stroked the animal’s furry head. Tigger looked completely content as the boy walked over to them, smiling wide with satisfaction.

“Ach, look at this bussli. Isn’t she beautiful? I saved her from being hit by a car,” the boy crowed, his eyes sparkling.

“Him,” Julia corrected. “The cat’s name is Tigger and he’s a boy.”

Hank’s expression lit up with sheer pleasure. “Ach, Tigger. What a fine name.”

“Hank, there are no cars coming at this time of the morning. You were supposed to be holding the ladder for me, not chasing after die katz.” Martin’s voice held a note of reproach but was otherwise calm. He wore a slight frown, doing an admirable job of controlling his temper. In that moment, Julia respected Martin even more.

“I know, but I saw Tigger and didn’t want him to get hit by a kaer,” Hank said.

Julia glanced at the empty street. Since it was so early, there wasn’t a single car, truck or person in sight. But being an agricultural community, Julia knew that would soon change as farmers came into town early to transact their business. Since Tigger freely roamed the streets at all hours of the day, she wasn’t too worried he’d be struck by a car.

“You know how fast motor vehicles go,” Hank continued. “Remember what happened to Jeremiah Beiler last year when an Englischer’s car hit his buggy-wagon and broke his leg? It nearly kilt him and his dechder.”