An Unexpected Joy Page 10

  Mamm set her sewing aside and went to the stove.

  Abigail loitered by the kitchen entry, listening to her daed and brother’s conversation as they removed their coats and hats. Daed chuckled over something David said. Abigail smiled. Asking to borrow his horse and buggy was easier when he was in a jovial mood. She scooted over to the counter beside her mother as they approached the kitchen.

  Daed tilted his head and drew in a breath through his nose, as he always did. “Something smells gut.”

  Abigail recalled Micah’s expression the first day she had worked for him. She had pretended not to notice how long he’d looked at her. She pushed the thought aside. If he’d been interested in her, he would have never shot down her dream to own Cactus.

  “Place the biscuits and butter on the table please,” Mamm said.

  Abigail did as her mother requested. Once they were all seated and prayers were said, she turned toward her dad. “Would it be possible for me to borrow the buggy?”

  David groaned. “I wanted to use it to go—”

  Daed lifted his hand, cutting David off. Daed gave Abigail his attention. “Where do you plan to go?”

  “Into town.” Daed’s scrutiny was difficult to avoid. She shifted on the chair. Did he know something about Gingerich’s?

  Mamm broke the tension. “Don’t you think you should stay home and rest? You haven’t been feeling well lately.”

  “I don’t have a fever.” Abigail briefly placed her hand on her forehead. “It’s just a sore throat,” she rasped.

  “That sounds like laryngitis to me.” Mamm took a sip of tea.

  David lifted his fork and paused before it reached his mouth. “Well, if she’s nett going to use the buggy, can I?”

  Daed shook his head at David, then turned to her. “Abigail, you can use it.”

  “Danki, I won’t be long,” she said, more for her brother’s benefit. She soaked the corner of a biscuit in the stew gravy, then took a bite. She loved the flavor of the beef and the fresh vegetables they had canned from the garden last summer.

  Daed and David’s conversation about farming continued. Mamm talked about a new recipe for turkey stuffing she planned to make for Christmas, and Abigail offered to make the sweet-potato casserole since everyone liked it last year. In a short time, the Christmas menu was planned as well as what they would bring to the district fellowship on Second Christmas. Abigail had always looked forward to the district fellowship on the day after Christmas, but this year, without Malinda, Abigail wasn’t sure she wanted to go.

  “I’ll harness Molly,” Daed said after he finished eating. He and David returned to their project in the barn while Abigail and Mamm cleaned the dishes.

  “I’ve started a list of things we’ll need,” her mother said. “I thought you could stop by Gingerich’s Market while you’re in town.”

  “All right.” Abigail hadn’t planned on going to the market. She scanned the list. This wasn’t too bad. She should be able to get in and out quickly.

  The pungent aroma of evergreen filled her senses as Abigail entered Gingerich’s Market. She hurried through the aisles, collecting the items on the list, then sucked in a breath when she approached the register.

  “Abigail, I’m glad you came in.” Fran held up her index finger. “Wait here a minute.” She disappeared into the back room and returned a moment later with an envelope. “You left so suddenly the last time you were here that I didn’t have a chance to pay you for your baked goods.” She handed Abigail the envelope.

  “Danki.” Abigail smiled. She still had a few Christmas gifts to buy.

  “I’ve had several customers ask about your cookies and pies,” Fran said.

  Abigail bit her tongue. She wanted to believe Fran was her friend and wouldn’t spread gossip, but she’d told Micah everything.

  Fran rang up the items on the counter. “Hopefully, you’ll be able to sell your baked goods again soon.”

  “Jah, maybe.” Christmas had always been her busiest time of the year. She missed those sales. Abigail paid for the grocery items. “I hope you have a merry Christmas.”

  “You too. I’ll see you at the fellowship on Second Christmas.”

  Abigail forced a smile and held it until she was out the door. This year wouldn’t be the normal joyful occasion. How could it be without a bu, a horse, or her cousin? She had nothing to be joyous about. She placed the sacks of groceries into the back of the buggy. After stopping to buy a new lantern for her mother and puzzles for Edith for Christmas, she searched for the homeless man.

  Her gaze landed on a man slumped against the hardware store. He was wearing what looked like an Amish-made coat. Abigail grabbed the quilt from the bench and a few bananas from the bunch.

  “Hello again,” she said, walking up to him.

  He grumbled something undecipherable when she repeated the greeting. When he turned, she got a better look at the coat. Wool-lined, hand-sewn stitches. It was Amish made. She held up the bananas. “I thought you might like these.”

  He peeled one and took a large bite.

  She debated whether she should ask about the coat. It certainly wasn’t something he would have found in a Dumpster. “I thought you might need a blanket.” She set it down next to him. “I made it.”

  He continued chewing.

  She stood there a moment. “I should probably go. Nice visiting with you.” She turned away.

  “Why are you doing this?” His words slurred. “Strangers go by me every day. They step over me and don’t acknowledge me, but you . . . you not only acknowledge me, you give me stuff.”

  “God placed you on mei heart,” she answered.

  “Why? I’m no one.”

  “Jesus loves you.”

  The man huffed. “I don’t know why He would.”

  “His love is unconditional.”

  “I heard that before.” He flung the banana peel across the alley, draped the quilt over his shoulders, then slumped against the brick building and closed his eyes.

  Her shoulders slumped. Lord, why did You place him on mei heart if what I say makes no difference?

  CHAPTER 13

  Did Elizabeth mention anything about Abigail?” Micah asked nonchalantly as he added a log to the woodstove in the sitting room.

  “She said plenty.” Mammi continued to knit.

  He tossed in another log. “Did she say why Abigail didn’t come today?” He closed the firebox hatch and adjusted the flue.

  His grandmother furrowed her brows at him. “She was upset about a horse. Apparently someone told her father the horse was no good, and he stopped the sale.”

  “It isn’t a gut horse.”

  “You don’t understand. Buying that horse represented independence for her.”

  “A headstrong woman with independence isn’t a gut combination.” He stormed into the kitchen. Someone needed to stop her from buying that horse. He’d done the right thing.

  Mammi lumbered into the kitchen. “She’s of the marrying age . . .”

  His eyes widened. And she was telling him, why? Micah filled a glass with water and took a drink.

  “When a woman reaches a certain age . . .” She touched his arm with her frail hand. “She starts planning her future. For Abigail, it’s buying a horse.”

  He eyed her closely. She cared a great deal for Abigail. “Why are you telling me this, Mammi?”

  “Be her friend, Micah. If that horse isn’t the one she should buy, help her find the right one.”

  “I’m nett sure that’s a gut idea.” The past tw
o weeks he spent with her had sent him into a tailspin. He hadn’t sorted his feelings out yet. He only spoke up about the horse because . . . he cared for her. “I wouldn’t want her to get the wrong idea.”

  Mammi chuckled. “If she were interested in you, she wouldn’t be looking to buy a horse. She’d be pampering you with cookies and pies.” She patted his arm. “I think you’re safe.”

  Safe. That should have pleased him, rather than knot up his insides.

  Abigail skated to the center of the rink and spun in a tight circle. She liked to skate while the younger children were in school and she had the rink to herself. Abigail glided with her hands behind her back, making long, graceful strides. The air was cold on her face and white puffs of foggy breaths escaped her mouth when she increased her speed. After baking Christmas cookies all morning, it felt good to spend time outside.

  She circled the rink several times, relaxing to the sound of blue jays chirping nearby. The two-acre man-made pond was a natural resource for wildlife and a place to harvest ice for their settlement’s icehauses in the winter, but to her, it was a slice of heaven.

  “I thought you were sick,” Micah called out.

  Abigail’s blades went out from under her and she landed on her rump. She caught a glimpse of him shuffling over the ice toward her and pushed to her feet.

  “You okay?”

  “I’m fine.” If she didn’t think about how painful it was to land on her tailbone. Her ankles wobbled. Sometimes standing still on ice was more difficult than moving. “How long were you standing there?”

  “Long enough to know you’re nett sick.”

  “Who said I was?”

  He shrugged. “I guess I was hoping you were.”

  She snorted. “Gee, thanks.” She swiped at the snow on her dress skirt.

  “That came out wrong.” He kicked at a clump of snow. “I was hoping you weren’t upset with me.”

  “So you’re sorry you told mei father about Cactus?”

  “Nay. I had to.”

  Abigail skated past him, the blades scraping against the ice. Nearing the edge of the pond, she dragged the tip of her blade over the ice to slow down. She stormed off the rink, trekked through the snow to where she’d left her boots next to the old oak tree, and plopped down.

  He came up beside her, breathing heavy. “Don’t be angry. That horse is trouble. He requires a strong hand.”

  “Jah, so I heard.” She unlaced her skate and jerked it off her foot.

  He handed her boot to her. “There are other horses for sale. Better ones. Safer ones.”

  It didn’t matter now. Even if she found one for the same price as Cactus, it would take another year to save up. She slid her foot into her other boot, tied the laces of the two skates together, and stood.

  “I didn’t want you to get hurt . . . I care about you.”

  She allowed his words to register.

  Micah broke eye contact and glanced at the ground.

  He must mean like one of her brothers. She dismissed the glint of hope that his words could mean something more and turned toward the path home.

  Micah raced to catch up to Abigail. “I’ll help you buy a better horse.”

  She stopped, her brows crinkled with puzzlement. “Why would you do that?”

  Micah cupped his hands on her shoulders. “I told you . . . I care about you.” Saying it the second time was easier. “I’ll carry these.” He lifted the skates off her shoulder.

  Except for the snow crunching under their feet and the occasional branch snapping under the weight of heavy snow, they walked in silence.

  And he couldn’t stand it.

  “There’s only three days until Christmas,” he said, breaking the silence.

  “Are you going to complete your order on time?” Flecks of snow glistened on her face.

  “I think so. The cake topper and centerpieces are finished. Tomorrow I’ll make the remaining snowflakes.”

  Abigail smiled. “I’m happy for you.”

  The Kemp’s barn was in the distance. The trail would end soon. Micah moved ahead of Abigail and stopped her. “Mammi would like you to kumm back. She wanted me to remind you that your knitting project is at the haus.”

  Abigail bowed her head.

  “Can I tell Mammi you’ll be there tomorrow?” Please.

  She shrugged without looking up.

  He lifted her chin and swallowed hard when their eyes met. His focus shifted to her lips. “I’d like to see you tomorrow too,” he said, leaning closer.

  “You would?” She jerked her head back.

  Stupid move. He’d almost kissed her. Now she was blushing.

  “I, ah . . . I didn’t mean to . . .” He hadn’t felt this foolish in a long time.

  “I’ll be there bright and early.” She stepped away, then smiling awkwardly said, “I should probably get home.”

  He nodded.

  They plowed through the snow at a quick pace. Minutes later, they’d reached her yard and his buggy. “See you tomorrow.” He nervously untied Clover from the post.

  “Tell your mammi I said hello.” She hurried up the porch steps and shot him a wave before disappearing inside the house.

  Micah grimaced at the sight of her skates still draped over his shoulder. He climbed the steps two at a time and knocked on the door.

  Abigail answered. “Did you forget—” She noticed the skates he was holding.

  Abigail’s mother came around the corner of the kitchen. “I intended to tell you earlier, Micah. We’ll be eating Christmas dinner around four.” She glanced at Abigail. “Did Micah tell you? He and his grandmother will be spending Christmas with us.”

  Abigail faced him. “You heard from your parents?”

  “Mei sister had her boppli last Friday, but he’s still in the hospital.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “He had breathing problems. Mei mamm doesn’t want to leave Lancaster until they know more about his condition.”

  “I insisted he and Edith spend the holiday with us,” Mrs. Kemp said.

  Abigail smiled. “The more the merrier.”

  He handed her the skates. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” Micah left, repeating her words to himself. “The more the merrier.”

  Was that sarcasm?

  After hearing that Micah and Edith would be spending Christmas with them, Abigail worked herself into a frazzle scrubbing the floors and washing windows. With only two days until Christmas, she worked well into the night. Cleaning helped burn off pent-up energy, and she was exhausted by the time she dropped into bed.

  Her thoughts flitted between what still needed to be done before Christmas to the shudder that went through her when Micah had lifted her chin. Her breath caught in her chest just as it had when they were standing so close and he’d leaned toward her. He would have kissed her if she hadn’t interrupted him. Now she might never know what that would feel like.

  Abigail covered her mouth to stifle her groan. She’d ruined the moment. He’d joked that she had a gift of gab—now it felt more like a curse.

  CHAPTER 14

  The following morning Abigail stood on Micah’s front porch, her nerves jittering as if she’d consumed a whole pot of coffee by herself. She brushed the snowflakes off the front of her cloak, drew in a deep breath, and exhaled slowly. “Relax,” she told herself. “It’s just Micah.” Just Micah. She shuffled her feet, unable to stand still. “Why am I nervous? I’m nett normally nervous. He’s just—”

  Footsteps clomped on the steps behind her. “He�
��s just what?”

  Abigail twirled at the sound of Micah’s voice. Heat spread over her face.

  “So why are you so nervous?” He grinned. “Is Miss Gabby Abby tongue-tied?”

  “I, ah . . . Have I ever been tongue-tied?” She shook her head. “I’m kalt.”

  “Hmm . . . I thought those rosy cheeks meant something else.” He reached for the doorknob and held it. “I am glad you came today.”

  She brushed imaginary flecks of snow off her cloak. “Two more days, jah?”

  He shrugged. “I’m hoping to complete the order today.”

  “Then this will be mei last day.” She tried to mask her disappointment with a smile.

  He opened the door and motioned for her to go ahead of him.

  Edith greeted her at the door with a wide smile that reached her eyes and deepened the lines around them. “It’s gut to see you, Abigail. I missed you.” She shrouded her in a warm hug.

  Micah moved past them, went into the kitchen, and returned with a cup of coffee as Abigail removed her cloak. “I’ll be out in the workshop if you need me.”

  Edith shuttled Abigail into the kitchen. “We’ll fill our cups with kaffi and take it into the sitting room. I’m sure you’ll want to work on those socks for Micah.”

  Abigail picked up the cups and carried them into the sitting room.

  Edith settled into her chair and began knitting. “Micah mentioned your mother invited us to spend Christmas at your haus.” Edith glanced up and smiled. “I think Micah is looking forward to it.”

  “You think so? I mean”—she gulped a breath—“did he say that he was?”

  “Oh, sweet child, it’s what he doesn’t say that’s important.”

  Abigail crinkled her nose. “I’d rather him speak his mind than have to decipher what he isn’t saying.”

  “Perhaps you should just practice being a bit more quick to listen and slower to speak.”

  “Jah.” Abigail resumed knitting. Her situation was hopeless. She would be an old maid before she developed the traits Micah wanted in a fraa. She wouldn’t dwell on it. God never promised her a husband.