Amish Christmas Twins. Shelley Shepard Gray
Roy had been in an English foster home, Will knew that it hadn’t been a very positive situation. He feared that Roy was also coming to associate Englishers with people like their former foster parents. Perhaps by the end of their adventure, the boy would warm up to John and maybe even Englishers in general.
After an hour went by, Harley stomped his feet. “I reckon it’s time for a hot chocolate and cookie break.” He looked around. “Anyone want to have some with me?”
“We don’t have any hot chocolate or cookies,” Jemima said. “Mrs. Kurtz packed us sandwiches.”
“Of course we do, child. Mei frau Katie made it for us.” Harley pointed to a rock. “Let’s sit down for a spell, jah?”
“Does he really have hot chocolate?” Roy whispered to Will.
“Of course,” Will said as he helped the boy take off his backpack. When Jemima sat on Will’s other side, he felt a burst of pride. He was out with his children. Even though he hadn’t known them for long and they weren’t his by birth, he felt a connection to them and their well-being as strongly as if he’d held each of them in his arms in a delivery room.
“How are you doing, Jemima?” he asked. “Are you glad you decided to come out with the men today?”
She nodded. “I didn’t think I would have fun, but it’s nice to be out in the woods.”
“I think so, too.” Will smiled down at her.
“Do you think E.—I mean, Mrs. Kurtz is doing okay all by herself?” Jemima asked.
“I think so. She was going to do some cleaning around the house. Maybe sewing, too.” He also knew E.A. was going to be sewing blankets for Roy and Jemima for one of their Christmas presents. She was making stuffed rabbits for each of them as well.
“She sure likes to sew,” Roy said.
“That’s because she has a sewing shop. Someone is managing it for her now, but for a while she worked there all the time. Ah, here we go,” he said as Harley handed out paper cups filled with hot chocolate, followed by napkins folded around sugar cookies.
Jemima gazed at the perfectly formed stars and hearts. Harley’s wife, Katie, had even lined the edges with red sprinkles. They were truly works of art. “They’re really pretty.”
“They are, and they taste good, too,” Will said.
“Why, I’d say these cookies are almost as good as my Marie’s cookies,” John said with a smile.
“Never say that,” Harley retorted.
John laughed. “My wife Marie is a terrible cook, Jemima and Roy. That’s why they’re teasing about the cookies.”
“You don’t mind that she can’t cook?” Jemima asked.
“Not a bit. We all have our gifts, jah? Marie is a whiz at math and all sorts of things. An’ it just so happens that I am rather handy in the kitchen. I never would have known that if Marie hadn’t been so terrible.”
“E.A. makes good chicken,” Roy said. “She bakes it with carrots and potatoes.”
John’s expression softened. “I bet it is wonderful-gut, Roy.”
Just as Jemima was taking a careful sip, her eyes widened. “Oh!”
“What?”
“Look!” She pointed to a flock of four turkeys carefully pecking the ground ten or so yards away.
Even from that distance Will could tell that it was a turkey family of sorts. Three of the turkeys were much smaller than the largest one, and they were all trailing after the leader like schoolchildren followed their teacher.
“What do we do now?” Roy asked.
His eyes were wide; Jemima’s were resigned. Will glanced at Harley and John, who had picked up his shotgun.
But then it became clear that none of them had the heart to shoot the mother bird. But what to do?
John jumped to his feet, somehow managing to knock over Harley’s steel thermos. It fell on its side with a loud clang, ringing through the trees like Christmas bells.
The turkeys froze, all looked their way, then scurried off down a ravine.
“Oh, um, rats!” John cried.
“John, you never could stay quiet. You scared off our Christmas supper,” Will said. “Now what are we gonna do?”
“I’m real sorry, everyone. I don’t know what happened,” John said.
Roy and Jemima turned back to Will with wide eyes. Struggling to keep a straight face again, he made a great show of looking at his pocket watch. “It’s getting late. I reckon we should get on home.”
“But what about the turkeys?” Roy asked. “What should we do?”
“Do?” Will asked. “Oh. Well, I think I’m going to tell E.A. that we didn’t see any turkeys today.”
“But we did,” Roy said. “So you wouldn’t be telling the truth.”
“It would only be a small fib.”
John winked. “I only saw a couple of birds from a great distance. I’m not a hundred percent positive they were turkeys. Are you, Harley?”
“Nee. They might have been . . . um . . . quail. Or wild chickens.”
“Wild chickens?” Roy wrinkled his freckled nose.
Harley zipped up his backpack with the thermos tucked safely inside. “Ah, jah. And let me tell you what, I ain’t about to start eating wild chickens this year for Christmas.”
“Me neither,” Will said. “Don’t fret, kinner. I’ll go to the butcher and ask him to put aside a turkey for us at the shop. E.A. won’t care if I do that. She’ll probably be pleased she doesn’t have to pluck feathers.”
Jemima giggled before covering her mouth again. But at the last minute, she left it uncovered and her laughter filled the air.
And Will realized that was what happiness sounded like.
Chapter 5
E.A. couldn’t recall the last time she’d laughed until she’d cried. She was mighty thankful for that. She didn’t want to have another memory to compete with the supper they’d just shared together.
She doubted that any other supper would come close, though. Her little family had been in fine form when they’d rushed in the kitchen door! Oh, they’d come home dirty and tired, that was for sure. But they’d also been full of stories and laughter and chatter. Roy’s sweet face was flushed and his blue eyes were fairly sparkling. Will simply looked like he’d just hung the moon. And as for Jemima? Well, she looked happy.
So happy!
It had made E.A.’s heart want to sing. After she’d cajoled them all to take hot showers and put on clean clothes, they’d gathered around the table, so ready to tell her about their adventures that the children hardly took time to bow their heads while they prayed silently.
Then, the very moment after Will said, “Amen,” they started talking so fast that she could hardly keep up.
Sitting around the supper table, E.A. served warm chicken and dumplings and listened with wide eyes as Jemima, Roy, and Will told her about sipping Harley’s hot chocolate and about Miss Katie’s cookies. About spying deer and rabbits and lots of birds and maybe even a fox in a thicket.
They also told her a rather long and convoluted tale about a mysterious flock of wild chickens that lived in the woods.
When E.A. questioned them about that—honestly, she’d never heard of such a thing—Jemima and Roy looked like they were going to bite their tongues, they were having