The Amish Christmas Sleigh (2 page)

C
HAPTER
2

H
e wondered vaguely why he'd agreed to sit at the small table and drink lukewarm tea, but then she served giant sugar cookies and the moment was redeemed for him. He loved cookies—plain and simple.

“
Herr
Christner, do you want to see my marble run?” Ben asked when they'd finished eating. Kate continued to putter about the tiny kitchen.

Sebastian glanced at her. He was probably interfering with her housework and should leave, but he couldn't resist a look at Ben's toy. Everyone on the mountain knew Sebastian was a renowned toy maker. Bishop Umble had even allowed him a computer and Internet access in a shed near his
haus
so that he might take orders from all over the region, not just locally on Ice Mountain. Sebastian had been surprised, but the bishop said that bringing joy to a child's face was worth a little bending of the
Ordnung
.

“Sure, Ben.” He smiled. “I'll look for a minute. Then I've got to go.”

Ben swung ably across the floor on his crutches and gestured to a carved wooden series of levels in a rectangular frame that sat in a place of honor on a small side table.

“Watch!” Ben called, then dropped a single marble into the top of the run. The marble made its way quickly down the simple slats and shoots, then shot out the bottom in seconds.

Sebastian crossed the room and picked up the simple toy. It was obviously inexpensive and meant to hold a younger child's interest but he held it with gentle hands. “Where did you get it, Ben? It's a beauty.”

Ben pointed with his crutch across the room. “Kate got it for me a long time ago when we lived in Lancaster.”

Sebastian glanced over at Kate as she was doing the dishes, then let his gaze sweep the corners of the neat but relatively bare room. “Then it's surely special, seeing as it was a gift from your
schwester
. Is it one of your favorite toys, Ben?”

The child shrugged matter-of-factly. “It's my only one.”

Sebastian hid his surprise.
Only one toy?

“But that's okay. I'm getting older now. I don't need another toy.”

Sebastian nodded as he carefully replaced the marble run, making sure to keep his tone even, although his heart ached for the child. “True, you are growing up. But we never are too
auld
for toys,
sohn
.”

“Please don't give him ideas,
Herr
Christner,” Kate said, moving to stand nearby as she dried her hands on her apron. “I—uh—mean no disrespect to you, but Ben knows that money is short and we can't always afford—”

Sebastian held up a placating hand. “I understand. Please forgive me. I meant no harm.”

She nodded, and he was about to leave when an idea came to him. He paused, and dismissed the thought. But it had hit him so hard, his head hurt. He looked at Ben's lone toy, at the clean but nearly empty cabin, and Kate's insistence on being independent. Could he walk out of this house and not extend help?

Yet to do so would put everything he'd built at risk . . .

He shook his head.
Nee,
he couldn't do it. He turned to Ben and was about to tell him good-bye when different words came out of his mouth, words that nearly horrified him with their simple intensity. “I've been thinking lately that I'm in need of two people in my life—an apprentice for my toy making and a
hauskeeper
.”
Have I completely lost my mind? What is she going to think I want, and worse yet, how can I have someone nosing about the place on a regular basis?
But even those doubts didn't stop him from uttering the question. “What would you and Ben say to helping fill those roles?”

He froze, wondering what he'd done. He looked from Ben's excited face to Kate's shocked one, and couldn't begin to understand how he'd gotten himself into such a painful predicament.

 

“Say
jah,
Kate!
Sei se gut,
Katie?” Ben was pulling at her skirt and balancing on one crutch while Sebastian stood, looking flushed and anxious, and still impossibly handsome, all at the same time.

She wet her lips.
It's like a dream . . .
But then her practicality took over—there were no such things as dreams, not real ones anyway.
Yet maybe Gott
. . .

“Ben, hold on. I need to talk with
Herr
Christner a moment about this. Will you go to our room and read for a bit—with the door closed, please.”

She waited anxiously while her
bruder
hobbled away, casting one last pleading look over his shoulder before he went into the bedroom and closed the door.

She indicated the table with a quick gesture of her hand. “May we sit again?”

“Of course.” He moved past her to resume the seat he had been in earlier.

Kate did the same, trying to think of what to say.

“You wonder how this came up so suddenly, maybe?” he asked.

She grabbed on to his words like a lifeline. “
Jah
—I—have you been thinking about it?”

She watched him exhale slowly, then he shrugged and gave her a quick smile, a flash of even, white teeth.
He's so handsome . . .
She quickly refocused when he cleared his throat.

“I—um—you may not know it, but I fear I'm the object of . . . talk . . . in the community at times—among the womenfolk.” He flushed a bit and she hid a smile.

Ach,
do I know . . .
Sebastian Christner was one of the most eligible bachelors on Ice Mountain, and he was often the subject of giggling chatter by women both young and
auld
. . . especially the single ones, but she was surprised that he knew of it.

“And?” she asked, wondering where he was headed with the conversation.

He bent his head a bit so that his thick lashes lay against his high cheekbones for a moment, and she shifted in her chair.

“I—I think, Kate Zook, that you might—keep the women at bay—as it were, especially now.” He looked up and spread his hands helplessly. “The holiday season is very busy for a toy maker.”

She felt her heart sink.
So I'm a guard dog, a tough
auld
bird who will...

He reached across the table and brushed at her hand with the whisper of a touch. She stilled her thoughts and looked at him.

“Forgive me,” he said slowly. “I put that badly. I need help and perhaps you do, too. And Ben—he has a
gut
mind and could learn a trade despite his disability.”

She nodded. “That's true—but the, um,
hauskeeping
. . . how often would that be? Only for December?”

She told herself that she imagined the relief in his sky-blue eyes when he nodded his head. “
Jah
. . . for December, say, every weekday and then maybe once a week after that. And Ben can
kumme
as often as school allows.”

Then he named a sum for wages that made her eyebrows shoot up in surprise
. I'd be able to save something for the first time in years and maybe get a few gifts for Ben for Second Christmas.

“When would I, er, we start?” she asked, trying to rein in her excitement at the possibility of actually being in his home on a brief, though regular basis.

“How about Monday?” he asked, and she thought he suddenly seemed restless. No doubt having made his decision, he wanted to be gone, so she got to her feet and extended her hand.

“
Danki, Herr
Christner. I accept.”

He slid back his chair and got to his feet, his hand immediately engulfing hers. “Sebastian,
sei se gut
. Just call me Sebastian.”

She nodded, secretly savoring the taste of his given name on the tip of her tongue while she watched him put on his coat and hat. Then she saw him to the door with a tentative smile. She realized she was watching the play of his lean hips beneath his long coat as he descended the snow-dusted steps, when he half-turned to wave a hand good-bye. She quickly closed the door and turned to press against it for a moment as she closed her eyes in a brief prayer of thanksgiving for the provision of work. Then she opened her eyes and set her chin. If she was going to be a good
hauskeeper,
she might as well start with keeping herself away from him, along with every other interested woman on the mountain . . .

C
HAPTER
3

“N
o siree, I got plenty of time ta sit and listen 'bout how you're screwin' up yer life.”

Sebastian sighed and leaned a hip against a workbench full of tools and wood shavings. He probably shouldn't have told his
Englischer
best friend, Tim Garland, about hiring Kate, but as he glanced around the workshop, he grimaced at the mess. He was a master toymaker, but lousy at cleaning up.

He frowned at his best friend and knew the older man wasn't likely to let the matter go easily. Tim Garland was as irascible as a timber rattler, but he was a
gut
man who saw that Sebastian's toys never failed to reach the post on time.

“She fed me cookies.”

“Lord, have mercy . . . I know yer weakness for cookies.”

“Tim,
kumme
on. If you think this workshop is cluttered, you must not have seen inside my cabin lately—it's a mess, to say the least.” Sebastian picked up a small lathe and ran a practiced finger down its length.

“The mess never bothered you before.” Tim harrumphed. “You're woman-hungry, boy, that's what.” He squared his spry shoulders. “I knows it when I see it.”

Sebastian snorted. “You don't know a shirt from a skirt, my friend. I simply saw an opportunity to help a family, and I did it—that's what
Gott
expects of us.”

“Aw, don't go gettin' all
Amisch
on me, Seb . . . I've knowed you too long.” Tim laughed, revealing a gap of missing front teeth, and Sebastian had to smile.

“All right—I'll admit she's got pretty eyes. She's also got a hurt
buwe
. . . And a too-small house and not enough toys . . . or happiness—I couldn't let it go.”

Tim got to his feet and stretched, then adjusted his ball cap and zipped up his parka. “Well, there's some truth, anyway . . . All right, boy, I'll see you Monday for another load.”

The old man bagged the five brown paper–wrapped packages and opened the door, letting the snow blow inside for a moment while Sebastian waved him off.

Then Sebastian went back to his worktable, pushing aside his friend's words, and concentrating on the making of a miniature wooden Noah's ark that he needed to finish and ship to California before Christmas.

“Yep,” he muttered aloud, peering at a half-formed pair of giraffes, along with all the other projects that were in various stages of completion. “I definitely have no time for romance . . .” Yet one part of his brain kept seeing Kate's jewel-blue eyes, highlighted by white snow, and he wondered uneasily if he was being entirely truthful with himself . . .

 

“Do you have your service satchel packed, Ben?” Kate asked, rushing as usual to get breakfast cleaned up before the community's bimonthly Sunday church meeting. She and Ben rode with her cousin Daniel and his wife, Fran, and somehow Kate always managed to be late.

“I'm too
auld
to have a satchel,” Ben said, but Kate waved aside his words.

“Every
buwe
and
maedel
is allowed to bring a puzzle or coloring book to service to keep them occupied, Ben. You'd never make it through the three hours without your satchel.”

“I would, too. I like to listen to the singing and to Bishop Umble's sermons or the deacons when it's their turn. I'm growing up, Katie, especially since I'm going to apprentice with
Herr
Christner. I wonder if we'll see him to talk to today?”

Kate paused in pulling her cloak off the peg near the door and felt with absent fingers around the front of her warm bonnet. What if Sebastian did speak to her? Normally, he would barely nod in her direction, or any single girl's direction, for that matter. But now she was his
hauskeeper
—she hugged the thought to herself and went to help Ben button his coat.

“I think, Ben, that
Herr
Christener is a very private man, so maybe we shouldn't tell anyone yet about our new jobs.”

“A secret?” He smiled up at her. “
Wunderbaar!
”

Then a brisk knock on her front door alerted her that Daniel and Fran must be ready in the big sleigh.

Kate hurried to fling open the door and tightened her bonnet strings as a sharp wind blew inside.

“Fran's waiting,” Daniel said, bending to lift Ben up and carry him outside.

Kate followed, feeling her mood dampen a bit. Fran was not always kind with her words, but Kate understood. Last Christmas, when little
boppli
Alice passed away from pneumonia, it had been almost more than Fran could bear, and she was still bitter to this day.

So Kate readied a smile as she slipped under the lap blankets and cuddled close to Ben, who loved the hot potatoes that Daniel always placed in the bottom of the sleigh for extra warmth.

“Hiya, Fran. I'm sorry to keep you waiting in the cold,” Kate said clearly.

The jangle of harness as the horse set out dispelled the bleak look Fran threw in Kate's direction. “Does it really matter, Kate?” the older woman asked. “You're always late and you always will be.”

And that is that
. . . Kate sighed to herself, then found peace in the gumdrop-shaped bushes, mounded with a frosting of white snow, and forgot her cousin's irritation for the moment.

 

Sebastian was exhausted. He'd stayed up until 4 a.m., then fallen into bed for a fitful hour, only to get back up and start to get mentally ready for Sunday service. His hands had itched to do a bit of work, but he knew that the bishop wouldn't have approved, so he'd prayed instead, then gone to help set up benches in Ben Kauffman's big barn.

As he set the hard, backless benches in place, he had a sudden image of Ben Zook trying to hold any position comfortably with his crutches for the long service. It was something Sebastian hadn't considered before, and he hurried over to Bishop Umble.

“Sebastian—” The
auld
man had smiled up at him. “What do you need with such urgency?”

“It's Ben Zook,” he'd blurted out. “The
buwe
should have a chair to sit on for church, something more comfortable for his legs.”

Bishop Umble had smiled faintly. “A chair? I suggested it to Kate once and she told me he was fine, but I, too, would feel better if the child had better support for his back. I'll leave it to you to convince her before church starts. We'll put a chair at the end of the row where they normally sit.
Danki,
Sebastian.”

As he'd watched the bishop walk away to attend to something else, Sebastian realized he was now required to somehow convince Kate to allow Ben the chair. He wanted to groan aloud; the only place he could talk with her would be outside, when Daniel Zook arrived, and the more he talked to any girl, the more it was sure to set tongues wagging in gossip. Still, he had hired her as his
hauskeeper,
so he might as well get used to it . . . But persuading Kate Zook when she had her mind set was probably not an easy task, and he turned wearily to go and watch for the family's sled to arrive in the thick snow.

 

Kate stared over Fran's head at the unmistakable sight of Sebastian Christner standing, apparently waiting, for Daniel's sled to arrive. He waved at her cousin with a gloved hand and caught the reins Daniel tossed down to him.

Kate was very aware of other community women arriving by sled with their families and looking in their direction, and she felt her heart begin to thump alarmingly. Even Fran gave her a sideways, suspicious glance. And Ben was practically hollering in greeting and scrambling to get to the side of the sleigh in his enthusiasm to see Sebastian.

Kate missed whatever quiet exchange happened between the two men when Daniel exited the sleigh, but somehow, after Sebastian had greeted her
bruder
and Fran, Kate found herself alone with him as the others went off into the barn.
Probably he's changed his mind about me working for him
. . . But then she moved to put her foot on the metal rung used to climb down from the sleigh and Sebastian lifted her easily and swung her to the ground as if she weighed no more than thistledown.

Kate had never thought of herself as especially feminine, certainly not dainty or one who needed caring for, but in that moment, the big man before her had made her feel every inch a woman—and one who was heated from the inside out despite the cold. She smiled uncertainly up at him and he returned the gesture, though there was something in his light blue eyes that she couldn't read.

“Uh, Kate—I, um, was setting up benches early this morning for church service . . .” He began, then seemed to lose direction.

“That's nice,” she said inanely.

“And I thought of Ben.”

“
Jah,
I asked the bishop if Ben might have a chair to sit in for service and he agreed, that is, if you agree.”

He spoke in a rush, as if anxious to get the words out, and she had the absurd notion to giggle. It was one thing to stand on pride with
auld
Bishop Umble and quite another to try to do it when one of the most handsome men on the mountain—not to mention her new employer—was asking the same question.

“Ben may have a chair . . . I suppose I have always tried not to let his injury stand out, and in doing so, I've been a bit prideful.”
And perhaps neglectful of what Ben really needs . . .
She looked down at the white ground until Sebastian's deep voice caused her to lift her chin.

“I would imagine you've always done your best for Ben. He's blessed to have such a
gut
sister.”

She nodded, too unsure to speak without tears.
No one has ever noticed my life with Ben and certainly never praised me for it . . .

“
Danki,
” she whispered.

He nodded. “
Kumme,
take my arm. The ground is slippery. I'll walk you in.”

She folded her fingertips tentatively around his bent arm, feeling the warmth of his body through his coat sleeve, and felt like an
Englisch
princess to be so escorted. Of course, she dropped her hand at the entrance to the barn, but not before many had seen and she had to slip into her place next to Ben with her eyes downcast but her heart uplifted in thanksgiving to
Gott
.