The Amish Christmas Kitchen Read online

  * * *

  “Absolutely . . . You have absolutely outdone yourself, Esther. These raisin cookies are superb!” Bishop Umble made the declaration with obvious pleasure, and Daniel shot a grin in Clara’s direction.

  He found her to be as beautiful and tantalizing to his senses as the coming Christmas season could be, and he was still warm inside from the closeness of their sleigh ride down from the high timber.

  “So, Daniel, have you tried Clara’s cookies?” Sarah King asked, coming up beside him. “My little sister is a wunderbar baker.”

  Daniel smiled, easing the cut-glass cup of punch that he held from one hand to the other as he greeted Ice Mountain’s local healer and her husband, Edward King. “She is, indeed,” Daniel agreed, shaking Edward’s hand.

  “We have to thank you again for offering her the chance to warm up yesterday,” Sarah said, giving Edward a none-too-circumspect poke in the ribs, but the big man, as usual, seemed to have difficulty dragging his attention from his wife.

  “It was my pleasure,” Daniel said, noting that Clara was fast approaching through the pleasant throng gathered, almost as if she was afraid that her big sister might be talking about her. “And here’s Clara now,” he murmured warmly. “We were just discussing your baking—er—talents.”

  He had to hide a grin at the frown she threw in his direction, but she recovered nicely when Bishop Umble joined them, a praline cookie in his hand.

  “Mmmm . . . mmmm, Widow Loftus. I have to tell you that your pralines are a perfect match for Daniel’s mamm’s raisin-filled cookies. Both simply delightful!”

  Daniel secretly thrilled to the arch look Clara gave him, then cleared his throat. “I’m sure we—uh—Mamm might not be put out by a cookie bake off of sorts, Bishop Umble.”

  The auld man’s blue eyes twinkled in sudden delight. “What an excellent thought, Daniel! Indeed, I’m sure all the ladies hereabouts would enjoy such a thing. Now, let me think of a gut cause. . . .”

  “Why the school, of course,” Daniel heard Clara declare sweetly, while her eyes shot daggers in his direction. “Perhaps we might offer the buwes cooking classes?”

  Daniel hastily joined in the round of good-natured laughter as he noticed Clara did, as well. The little minx . . . She can give as gut as she gets!

  Bishop Umble stroked his beard as the laughing trailed off. “I do think the school is a gut idea, though. Although the community provides teaching supplies, there’s always some new book Jude Lyons wants the kinner to read. In fact, I’ll talk to him about having the cookie bake off on the nacht of the school Christmas play.”

  “Wunderbar idea,” Daniel agreed, noticing that he spoke nearly in time with Clara’s similar words.

  The bishop shot a glance between them, then smiled a gentle smile. “There’s a storm brewing, so I hear, Daniel, up in the high timber. So, if you’ve a mind to take Clara home tonight, you may want to leave early.”

  “Of course, sir. Sarah and Edward, I’ll see Clara safely home, I promise.”

  Edward spoke up idly. “We can take her, Dan.”

  Daniel had to conceal another smile as Edward received his second poke of the evening from his petite wife.

  “We’re grateful, Daniel,” Sarah said in clear tones.

  “Jah, very grateful,” Clara declared, but he knew that there’d be fireworks on the sled ride home if he gauged her temper right, and he looked forward to the cold nacht with abject pleasure.

  CHAPTER 6

  They had almost reached her cabin when the storm broke loose and Blinks jumped out of the sleigh.

  “You head inside. I’ll get the goat and stable the horse,” Daniel hollered to her over the whipping wind.

  Clara nodded, already feeling the icy sting of snow particles down the back of her neck. She paused only long enough to see him grab the lantern from the sleigh, then hurried indoors. The howl of the storm was a dim roar outside that seemed to taunt her with its power as the minutes passed. She bit her lip and found herself praying for Daniel and Blinks. Then she could stand the wait no longer and grabbed her own lantern from the tabletop and headed back outside.

  The snow was near-blinding and took her breath away with its intensity. She knew how easy it was to get lost in a storm, so she carefully navigated to the clothesline that was stretched from the side of the cabin to one of the small, unused outbuildings, and grabbed hold of the rope like a lifeline. She tried to call out for Daniel, but her voice was carried away by the wind. Then she felt something warm inside her chest, almost as if she were being given a massage from the inside out. She stood still a moment, confused, then looked up and saw the ready glow of Daniel’s lantern reflecting from the deserted shed in front of her. And she moved on in haste.

  She eased open the door to what had once been a small barn and entered in time to see Daniel climbing a rickety ladder to a second-floor overhang that held a few bales of musty hay, some spare wood, and a very determined-looking goat.

  She slid the door closed behind her, shutting out most of the wind, then listened worriedly as Daniel tested the worn floorboards of the ladder.

  She caught her breath when he took a second step and the wood creaked alarmingly, releasing a fall of dust to the pile of hay beneath; Blinks baaed piteously.

  “It’s all right,” Daniel soothed the animal as Clara watched him risk another step.

  He’d nearly reached the goat, when a sudden gust of wind blew a few shingles off overhead. Clara glanced up, then looked back in time to see the whole of the overhang collapse at the center. She watched Daniel move fast to scoop up Blinks, and then they were falling to the hay beneath, with Daniel taking the brunt of the fall on his back while his strong arms held her pet close.

  Clara gasped and hurried through the debris, flinging away pieces of wood, while Blinks leapt with nimble feet, obviously unharmed, past her to go and stand by the door.

  “Ach, Daniel, are you all right?” She dropped to her knees beside his big body.

  He laughed from the depths of the old hay and propped himself up on his elbows, blowing a stray piece of straw from his lips. “That goat is a trickster.”

  “You might have been badly hurt, but you saved her.... Why did you do that?”

  His expression softened and Clara wanted to duck her head away from the warmth in his green eyes. “Because she matters to you, and because I wouldn’t let any animal risk suffering from such a fall.”

  “You’re a gut man.” The soft words were out of her mouth before she could even think, and she curved her mouth at his deepening smile.

  “Did you just compliment me, Clara?”

  She shook her head, belying her words, but he’d leaned upward to sit next to her, his legs pressed against her knees.

  “Jah, you did,” he whispered, tilting his head. “And it felt good.”

  Her mind raced suddenly, to some sweet, sugary place where more than words tasted good—like the lips of a man. She clenched her jaw as he reached his callused hand up to stroke her soft cheek.

  “Ach, Clara . . .” His lashes lowered as he moved even closer, and she suddenly woke to more than sensory awareness.

  “Listen,” she cried, ignoring his faint groan. “The storm’s stopped.”

  He frowned and gazed upward for a moment. “So it has.” He sighed and got to his feet, reaching a hand down to help her up.

  Her fingers tingled in his grasp, and she felt she had nowhere to hide when he bent his broad back to her and brushed a piece of hay from her cloak front. “One storm’s stopped, sweet Clara—but another rages on.”

  She swallowed hard. “I—don’t—know what you mean.”

  He smiled a gentle smile and pulled her from the straw toward her now-impatient pet; Blinks was butting at the door.

  “You know exactly what I mean, but . . . perhaps you can tell me with your sweet baking until you feel ready to tell me with your lips.”

  She smiled uncertainly at his teasing, but in her heart, she felt that s
he had been close to betraying Seth with the kiss of one who had been his best friend.... I’ll have to be more careful in the future, she concluded to herself, but she knew it would be no easy task with someone like Daniel Kauffman.

  * * *

  “Ya say she’s got a goat? Well, why not a beaver, then?”

  Daniel sighed and worked the ground cloves into the gingerbread drop dough while his da sat in affable midnight companionship at the kitchen table. Daniel had returned from Clara’s too keyed up to sleep and had decided to start a batch of an old-fashioned cookie favorite.

  “No beavers. One goat.”

  “No husband. One admirer,” Sol laughed, pleased with his own humor.

  Daniel had to smile. His da’s presence of mind was quicksilver at best, but it was still a joy to hear the grandfather he knew break through now and then. He uncorked the bottle of molasses and added a liberal amount before starting to tell his da about the cookie bake off.

  Sol scratched his grizzled head. “When I was courtin’, we kissed not cooked.”

  I’d like to be kissing Clara. . . . His mind flashed back to the moments in the hay when he thought he’d had a chance at such pleasurable activity, but she’d shied away as usual. “Clara’s as shy as a doe . . . as shy as a doe. . . .”

  “Yer missin’ Seth,” his da said flatly, startling him.

  Daniel swallowed and tried to concentrate on stirring in the remaining flour with a wooden spoon. “Jah,” he choked, telling himself it was from the flour dust and not the realization that he did miss his best friend. He wondered bleakly how far heaven was from earth and whether Seth could even see or know what happened on Ice Mountain.

  His grandfather laid a big hand over his, and Daniel looked into the bleary auld eyes. “Ye’re too hard on yerself, buwe. You don’t have to have all the answers—only Gott knows,” Sol smiled. “Only Gott knows the difference between a beaver and a goat, and that’s what matters.”

  Daniel nodded, realizing it was time to lead the auld man back to bed, but he was grateful for the blessing of their talk all the same.

  CHAPTER 7

  The next day was Saturday and Clara found herself in a bad mood. She groaned in exasperation as she burnt her second kettle of candy. She flung open the cabin door and tossed the whole mess, kettle and all, out into the cold snow and returned to glare at an innocent-eyed Blinks.

  “I am not concentrating,” she declared. “And it’s all because of that . . . man.”

  Blinks gave a gentle grunt and settled down on the floor near the woodstove while Clara went back to her third try at making Amisch Shatter Candy. When she’d spoken with Sarah last nacht at the bishop’s, her sister had invited her to come down for a visit today to do some sled-riding with the little ones.

  “More likely Sarah wants a gut gossip—not that there’s anything to say,” she grumbled aloud as she measured corn syrup into the heavy pan. She wanted to make the hard candy favorite for the kinner and hoped to have it set up before Edward came to get her. This time, she watched the sugary liquid boil with extra care and then poured the whole lot onto a powdered sugar cookie sheet. She spread the cinnamon-flavored redness out, and it soon engulfed the tin.

  “There!” she cried, pleased, and whipped off her apron in time to hear the jangle of harness and sleigh bells outside. She took a quick peek outside through the kitchen window, half-hoping to see Daniel instead of her blond-haired bruder-in-law. But it was Edward, and she hurried to sling on her cloak before he knocked at the door.

  “You ready, Clara?” he asked when she opened the wood.

  “Jah.” She met his single blue eye for a moment, amazed, as always by its keen intensity. He wore a rather dashing eye patch to hide the loss of his other eye, which had been damaged in an accident several years before. “I made Shatter Candy for the kinner, but I’ll wait to let them crack it once we’re at your haus.”

  She pulled on her bonnet while Edward held the cookie sheet for her, and then they went out to the sled with Blinks jumping in to take a front-row seat.

  As they set out, Clara didn’t really expect Edward to talk much, as he usually was a quiet man, but today he seemed to be inclined to chat—about Daniel Kauffman.

  “Dan’s a gut man,” Edward said.

  Clara longed to roll her eyeballs. Obviously Sarah had drilled her husband on what the subject of conversation on the sled ride should be....

  “Uh-huh,” she muttered.

  She felt Edward give her an appraising, sidelong glance. “But nobody’ll do after Seth, huh?”

  Clara blustered in surprise. “Did Sarah tell you to say that?”

  “Nee,” Edward replied calmly, reminding Clara that as the healer’s husband, he was probably more than used to women’s emotions.

  “Well, I never said anything about anyone ‘doing’ or ‘not doing’ after Seth. Seth’s gone. . . .” Seth’s gone. He’s gone, but I will not betray his memory. . . .

  “He’s gone,” Edward agreed.

  “But I know firsthand how the past can put a damper on the present and the abundant life that Derr Herr wants us to have. Your sister taught me that.”

  Blinks bleated in seeming agreement, and Clara glared momentarily at her pet, clutching the cookie sheet tighter. “Well, I’ve never understood much about abundant life, even though the bishop talks about it a lot. Abundance is for crops or food . . . or . . . something, but not life, not people.” She realized she sounded rather glum and straightened her spine.

  But Edward merely nodded. “I know. It’s hard to understand until you’ve experienced abundance, and I guess maybe you have a lot to carry, becoming a widow only shortly after being a bride.... If I were you, I guess I’d be pretty mad at Gott and His suggestion of abundance.”

  Clara felt her eyes well with unbidden tears. Her big, brooding bruder-in-law was touching things in her heart and soul that she’d never been willing to overturn, like big stones in a rushing creek, and it hurt.

  He must have realized because he soon dropped the matter and pulled up on the reins as they reached the cabin where her sister and he lived with their two children. He set the brake and came around the sleigh to help her down, reaching for the cookie sheet and then offering her one of his large, gloved hands.

  She took a deep breath and accepted his help, then paused to look up into his single blue eye. “Danki, Edward,” she murmured.

  He nodded. “Anytime, sweet sister. Now, let’s go in and shatter some candy.”

  She agreed with a small smile and started up the steps to the porch when she noticed Daniel Kauffman step ’round a stand of trees and come toward the cabin on the snow path.

  * * *

  Daniel had awoken early that morning after a plaguing nacht’s sleep of tantalizing near dream kisses with Clara. Consequently, he took himself off to Joseph King’s woodworking shop with only half the focus he normally had.

  “Rough nacht?” Joe asked affably when Daniel arrived.

  Daniel shrugged. “In one way.”

  Joseph laughed and Daniel had to smile when the dark-haired man nodded in understanding. “Ach, so you’ve been lovestruck. . . . Family rumor has it that Clara Loftus might figure into your tossing at night.”

  Daniel had forgotten for a moment that Joseph was Edward’s big bruder and bound to hear the latest gossip through Sarah. “I might be tossing and turning, but I doubt that she is,” he admitted to his boss and friend.

  Joseph clapped him on the shoulder. “No man can figure what runs through a woman’s mind—you might well be surprised.”

  “I’d like to be.”

  “Well, kumme and finish your work on that sweet gum dresser for the order down Williamsport way.”

  “Danki, Joe. I’ll get right to it,” Daniel said as he slipped off his coat and hat and hung them on the pegs near the door.

  Other men were carving, as well, and Daniel exchanged cheerful greetings before going to his workbench. The dresser he was carving was of sweet gum, some
times called “American Mahogany” due to its occasional dark streaks and red color. It was a good wood to work with and would take any variety of finishes once he’d finished the commissioned carving of sun, moon, and stars on its drawer fronts.

  He’d been carving carefully for about an hour when his mind drifted a bit to Clara and the skew chisel he held slipped for an instant, slashing the top of his wrist. He sighed and put down the tool to grab a rag, quickly applying pressure to the wound, which was bleeding fast.

  Joseph came over and lifted the rag, then hastily reapplied it. “Kind of deep, Dan. You’d better head over to Sarah’s and have her put in a stitch or two.”

  “Sorry, Joe.” Daniel knew that his boss ran a clean operation and wanted accidents kept to a minimum.

  Joe smiled at him and spoke low. “No worries, Dan. At least I know where your mind was—just save that for some nacht in the future, all right?”

  “Right.”

  Daniel got to the door when Joseph called after him, “And take the rest of the day off, Dan. Just get some sleep.”

  Daniel smiled and nodded. “Will do, Joe.”

  He headed out into the snow, his coat slung over his arm as he walked, and kept pressure on the wound. He made the short hike to Sarah’s, not bothering to stop in at home when he passed the store—he didn’t want his daed to worry or his mamm to fuss. He passed the last stand of trees and turned onto the snow-bright path in time to see Clara mounting the steps to the door, and his heart began to pound in his pulse points—a delicious torment.

  CHAPTER 8

  “Can you peel back the rag while I check out how deep the cut is?”

  Clara stared at her older sister in dismay. Sarah knew how weak-stomached she usually was when it came to blood—and here was Daniel bleeding all over the place. But then she looked at the slight pallor of his handsome face as he sat at the kitchen table with Blinks at his knee and she strengthened her resolve.

  “Ach, all right. Let me wash my hands.”

  “Of course,” Sarah said, stepping back from the pump at the sink.