An Unexpected Joy Page 5

  “Nay, I walked.” She moved past him and shed her wool cloak, mittens, and boots in the entry. She rubbed her arms.

  Her rosy cheeks and the tip of her nose looked raw. He motioned to the sitting room. “Why don’t you warm up by the woodstove while I make you a cup of kaffi.”

  “I c-can get it.” Her teeth chattered.

  “I insist. Go warm up.”

  “O-k-ay.”

  He didn’t want her to get pneumonia—unless it was after Christmas. He shook his head. Insensitive, he chided as he removed a mug from the cabinet. He filled it with coffee, then walked back to the sitting room. “This should heat you up.”

  “Danki.” She blew across the surface and took a sip.

  Micah tipped his head toward the kitchen. “There’s a pot of oatmeal on the cooling rack. You can reheat it if you like.” He went to the entry and grabbed his coat and hat off the hook.

  She came up beside him, holding her cup with both hands. “Anything special you want me to do or make?”

  “I’m sure you and Mammi will figure out something.” He slipped his arm into his coat sleeve. “You’ll find packages of meat in the icehaus and canned vegetables down in the cellar.” He donned his hat and gloves. “I’ll see you sometime around noon for lunch.”

  “Maybe Edith and I will make a batch of sugar cookies. They were mei best”—her smile faded—“sellers at Gingerich’s Market.” She lowered her head and when she looked up again, her smile had returned.

  “Sounds gut.” Over the years, he’d sampled several of her cookies either at church functions or at the youth singings. He’d even bought a few dozen from the store once or twice.

  “Customers liked mei oatmeal raisin ones too.”

  He reached for the door. “Make whichever ones you like.” His mouth would water, whatever kind they were. Her baked goods were the first to go during the singings and probably why so many men vied to drive her home.

  Micah went outside. Earlier, when he’d gone out to do barn chores, he’d shoveled the snow off the porch and steps and made a walkway to the barn. It was dark then and he hadn’t noticed the snowdrifts that the wind pushed against the shop door. He grabbed the snow shovel from the tool shed and cleared the entrance to his shop. This might be a record-breaking year for snowfall. Hopefully it wouldn’t hinder his parents’ return. Sometimes the buses didn’t run when the weather was bad.

  Micah prepared the kiln, and as he waited for it to heat, he flipped through his sketchpad. The customers had requested different centerpieces for each of the twenty tables. He’d tried to tell them that every blown-glass piece was unique. Even if he wanted to make them identical, it would be next to impossible. One reason glassblowing never got old.

  He studied the sketch for the bridal table. The groom wanted deer, the bride wanted doves, and they finally settled on both, leaving Micah to figure out the design. It proved to be a challenge trying to please them both. In just the short amount of time he’d spent with the couple, they had seemed polar opposites. His thoughts flitted to Abigail. The way her nose had wrinkled like she had smelled a skunk when he called her ‘Gabby Abby’ would be etched on his mind for some time to come. His thoughts shifted to the engaged Englisch couple and how they gazed into each other’s eyes, then flitted back to Abigail. Her green eyes were vivid—lively when she talked. He found himself mesmerized by her animated expression when she described the starry sky. Not one star was visible, but somehow she managed to depict the perfect scene. She was right about God using the stars to direct the wildlife. He once watched a herd of white-tail deer follow a moonlit path over the pasture.

  Maybe the stars will be out tonight, Gabby Abby.

  Micah cringed. Stargazing was overrated. He hadn’t wanted to think about a starry night since Sue Ann had moved. Abigail assumed he wasn’t talkative when she mentioned the stars. Calling her ‘Gabby Abby’ changed that topic. He shouldn’t have teased her. Although he’d meant it in fun, most women probably wouldn’t find any humor in having that nickname. Perhaps Mammi’s mentoring would help. It certainly couldn’t hurt. With some help, Abigail might secure a husband. He smiled. Marriage probably wouldn’t settle her down.

  CHAPTER 6

  A bigail selected a puzzle piece that looked like part of the sky and hunted for the spot where it would fit. “I love seeing puzzles come together, don’t you? Especially puzzles of horses. This sorrel has the same coat color as the one I plan to buy.”

  “You talk an awful lot about wanting to own your own horse,” Edith said, keeping her eyes on the puzzle piece she was about to place.

  “You find that odd, don’t you?” Abigail selected another piece of what was either a portion of the cloud or the white star between the horse’s eyes.

  “Just a word of warning. Unleashed desire for material possessions is a dangerous thing.”

  Abigail cringed. In her excitement, she probably had sounded obsessed. “I suppose I do sound overzealous. I’ve been saving since last December. Of course mei younger sister, Elizabeth, told me if I had a bu, I wouldn’t need to save money for a horse.”

  “That’s how it was in mei courting days.” Edith joined two sections of the puzzle together. Now the galloping horse just missed its tail.

  “I have to plan for the future. Mei courting days are over.” A familiar pang gripped her heart. Sometimes the bitter truth was better left unspoken.

  Edith looked up from the puzzle. The creases around her eyes softened. “It isn’t too late for you.”

  Abigail forced a smile too difficult to hold. “What made you decide to move to this side of the district? You must miss your friends.”

  Edith nodded. “I do. But mei sohn and his fraa were concerned about me living alone, them being over ten miles away.” She found where another piece of the puzzle belonged. “And they believe I’m losing mei mind.”

  Abigail’s jaw dropped. Edith had forgotten to put water in the kettle yesterday.

  “You find that hard to believe?”

  “Nay—I mean—well, maybe a little forgetful.”

  Edith chuckled. “You’re a sweet child. But it’s true. Mei mind is slipping. Even Micah was worried about leaving me alone in the haus all day. He hired you.”

  “He knew he would be working long hours. I’m sure he didn’t want you to get lonely.”

  Edith shook her head. “I left the water running in the sink and it spilled over. Trust me, he’s worried.”

  “That doesn’t necessarily mean he’s worried. Once I left the tap open on the rain barrel, and it flooded a newly planted section of the garden. The next morning all mei starter plants were uprooted.” Abigail shrugged. “I had gotten distracted and forgot. It happens all the time.” She glanced up at the kitchen wall clock and bolted off the chair. “Micah must be getting hungry. I should start lunch. How does chili sound to you? Or I can make sandwiches or—” She covered her mouth with her hand.

  “Is something wrong, child?”

  Abigail pulled her hand away from her mouth. “I’m talking too much, aren’t I?”

  “Cooking for Micah makes you nervous, I understand.”

  Abigail shook her head. “That’s nett it. I naturally talk a lot. Mei mother makes the sound of bees buzzing when I start rambling.” Her shoulders dropped. “I haven’t had anyone to talk with in a while. Mei cousin, Malinda—”

  Concern spread over Edith’s face.

  There she went again, talking too much. Edith probably didn’t know about the Lambright’s problems in the church or that they were about to be formally shunned. She went to the wall rack and plucked her cloak off the hook. “I’m going to check the icehaus fo
r hamburger meat. I’ll be right back.”

  “Why don’t you take Micah a fresh cup of kaffi since you’re going out?”

  “I don’t think he wants to be bothered.” She’d learned that lesson yesterday.

  “Nonsense, he’s been out in his shop all morning. He’ll enjoy the kaffi.”

  Edith was right. On a wintery day like today, Micah would probably appreciate something hot to drink. She went to the cabinet and removed a mug from the shelf.

  Micah used the metal clippers to detach the glass from the blowpipe. The first satisfactory piece he’d made all morning. He let out a breath once it was safely cooling on the steel table. Light entered the doorway, and he looked up.

  Abigail. He’d worked hard all morning to rid her from his thoughts and now here she was. “Apparently you forgot that I had asked nett to be bothered?”

  “I remember.” She inched forward anyway, her attention on the steaming mug in her hand. “This was full when I left the haus,” she said, lowering it onto the table.

  “Danki.” His tone hinted of more aggravation than gratitude.

  “No need to thank me.” She clasped her hands behind her back and moved to the end of the table where he’d placed the glass poinsettia to cool.

  In his experience, customers who viewed his work with their arms behind their backs were harsh appraisers. His jaw tightened.

  She shot him a sideways glance, then returned to inspecting the piece. “Don’t worry,” she said as if reading his mind. “I’m nett staying.”

  He couldn’t have these interruptions. He already had mental images of her embedded in his mind and they were jarring enough. “I’m nett worried,” he said, evening out his tone.

  She peered at him again, this time she narrowed her eyes.

  He cracked a smile but made a slight gesture with his head toward the door hoping she would take the hint and he wouldn’t have to escort her out like yesterday.

  “I’m making chili and cornbread for lunch.” She crossed the room, paused for half a second at the door, then yanked it open. “You’re welkom for the kaffi.”

  Micah eyed the steaming mug. She had a servant’s heart. But if he didn’t put his foot down, the interruptions would be unending. She would smother him with questions. Questions she wouldn’t even wait to have answered before blurting out the next one.

  He picked up the blowpipe and went to the kiln, but the fire had died down. Perhaps God was trying to get his attention. Micah wasn’t the most patient man, and it showed in his abruptness with Abigail. He tossed a few thin pieces of kindling on the bed of hot embers and watched them ignite as he recalled seeing Abigail give a tin of her delicious cookies to a man on the street.

  Micah bowed his head. Father, please forgive me for being rude. She has a good heart, but she talks too much. I’m nett sure she has a shut-off valve. Will You help her find it? Heat from the kiln warmed Micah’s face. Father, please help me see her the way You do.

  Micah worked another hour and was able to get a few of the four-dozen ordered snowflakes finished. He’d hoped to get more done, but his stomach rumbled, telling him it was past time to eat. He needed to take a break soon or his scrap pile would be larger than the items to sell. Before leaving the shop, he added a thick log to the kiln to keep the fire from dying down completely.

  He stomped the snow off his boots on the porch, then entered the house. The tantalizing aroma of cornbread filled the air. He removed his coat and hat, listening to Abigail talk about the Christmas gifts she had made for her family. Wool socks for her brothers and knitted scarves for her sisters. The house certainly felt more joyful with Abigail around.

  He went to the sink to wash up. Be nice, he reminded himself when Abigail jumped topics and started talking about the cookies she planned to bake. Mammi stood at the stove stirring a pot of chili while Abigail stood at the counter next to the sink cutting cornbread.

  “I’m only going to make a couple of fruitcakes this season because”—she interrupted herself to acknowledge his presence—“You’re just in time, Micah”—then resumed her conversation with his grandmother, something about how expensive dates were this time of year.

  When he finished washing up, Abigail handed him a dish towel. “Danki. Your cornbread smells gut.” He smiled.

  A rosy shade of pink spread over her cheeks. His smile appeared to take her by surprise. Abigail stared blankly at him a moment as if lost in thought, then returned his smile. She instructed him to take a seat, then grabbed the plate of cornbread and rushed it to the table. For the next several minutes, she created a whirlwind in the kitchen as she hurried to finish setting the table.

  Mammi lifted the spoon from the pot and set it aside. “If you have a minute, Micah, I’d like you to look at the lantern on the table next to where I knit. I think the wick could use adjusting.”

  Lantern wicks were not difficult to adjust. The meeting she’d called had to do with Abigail. Mammi was probably exhausted from listening to her all morning and would reiterate that she didn’t need a sitter. But he rose from his chair and went into the sitting room. “The wick is fine,” he said after a brief inspection.

  “I want to talk with you about Abigail.”

  “I’ll try to work faster.”

  Her forehead creased in puzzlement. “I don’t know what was said this morning when Abigail brought you kaffi, but when she returned, I could tell that she was upset about something.”

  “I was a little short with her.”

  “Your parents didn’t raise you to be harsh to women. She’s a sweet child.”

  He nodded.

  “I expect you to apologize.”

  Abigail poked her head into the room. “Lunch is ready.”

  “Okay,” Edith replied.

  Abigail took her place next to Mammi and bowed her head. If she had overheard Mammi’s scolding, she never let on.

  In his silent prayer, he asked God not only to bless the food, but to forgive him again. His sharp tone with Abigail earlier in the workshop probably had something to do with her nervousness around him now. Maybe he’d frightened her. Forgive me if I have, Lord.

  He took a bite of cornbread. It melted in his mouth.

  “You like it?” Abigail’s eyes sparkled.

  “Very much,” he replied, then realized she had directed the question to Mammi.

  Mammi took a nibble of the chili and smiled. “How do you make yours? I guess I wasn’t watching.”

  “I put sugar in it.” She motioned to her bowl. “I added some to the chili too.”

  “I used to add a chocolate bar to mine,” Mammi said.

  Abigail’s eyes widened. “I’ll have to try that next time.”

  Micah filled his spoon with chili and took a bite. He couldn’t taste any sugar. The chili was as hot in spice as in temperature. His eyes watered. This was different, but he could get used to the spiciness with a larger glass of milk. Her cornbread on the other hand was perfect. He went back for seconds and thirds. He ate so much he wasn’t sure he could get up from his chair when lunch was over.

  He slowly pushed back from the table, then stood. “Danki. Lunch was gut.”

  “You’re welkom.” She followed him to the door. “Micah, I was wondering if it would be okay if Edith and I go for a drive. She hasn’t been back to the other side of the district to visit her friends, and I thought it would be nice for her to do so before Christmas.”

  “Abigail.” The moment he touched her arm, her mouth clamped shut. He released her arm and removed his coat from the hook. “It’s a great idea.”

  “Oh, gut. I’ll need to bo
rrow your horse and buggy.”

  “That’s fine. When do you plan to go?” He slid his arm into the coat sleeve.

  She shrugged. “I was thinking maybe tomorrow, but I’ll talk with Edith and let you know what we decide.”

  “Okay.” He reached for the door handle, started to open it, then stopped. “Abigail, I’d like to apologize.” He turned and faced her. “I shouldn’t have been abrupt with you this morning. I’m sorry.”

  A smile surfaced. “I understand. I won’t bother you anymore.”

  Beneath her smile, he sensed sadness. Guilt gnawed at him.

  “I’m behind schedule. For some reason I haven’t been able to keep the fire in the kiln hot, and the fluctuating temperatures have interfered with melting and molding the glass.” He lowered his head and looked down at his boots. “I wasn’t in the best mood when you brought me kaffi. I shouldn’t have taken mei frustration out on you.”

  “I’ll say a prayer that you can make your deadline.”

  “Danki.” He smiled. “If I don’t, I’ll have an angry bride and groom on mei hands.”

  Her forehead wrinkled in confusion.

  “I’ve been commissioned to make centerpieces for the reception tables, a cake topper, and different snowflake ornaments they plan to hang for decorations.”

  “Sounds like a fancy wedding.”

  “The woman who’s planning the wedding said she has more customers who would like mei work too. I should have enough money to build a haus next spring.”

  “You better get back to work.” She reached around him and opened the door. “No one wants to see a bride cry on her wedding day.”

  Again, he sensed sadness, but now wasn’t the time to ask her about it.

  CHAPTER 7

  Three days of blizzard conditions forced Abigail and Edith to change their plans. Abigail wasn’t sure they should venture out on the icy roads, and Edith agreed. Ten miles was a long trip when the weather was bad. Even Micah had made the statement more than once. Although he never said anything about their decision, he seemed relieved when they postponed the visit for another day.