The Christmas Cat Read online

  Copyright

  The Christmas Cat

  © 2017 by Amy Clipston

  All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, scanning, or other—except for brief quotations in critical reviews or articles, without the priorwritten permission of the publisher.

  Published in Nashville, Tennessee, by Thomas Nelson. Thomas Nelson is a registered trademark of HarperCollins Christian Publishing, Inc.

  Thomas Nelson titles may be purchased in bulk for educational, business, fund-raising, or sales promotional use. For information, please e-mail [email protected].

  Scripture quotations are taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version®, NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.® Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide. www.zondervan.com. The “NIV” and “New International Version” are trademarks registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office by Biblica, Inc.® And from the King James Version. Public domain.

  Publisher’s Note: This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. All characters are fictional, and any similarity to people living or dead is purely coincidental.

  Epub Edition July 2017 ISBN 9780718027186

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  CIP data available upon request.

  Printed in the United States of America

  17 18 19 20 21 LSC 5 4 3 2 1

  Contents

  Copyright

  Glossary

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Discussion Questions

  Acknowledgments

  An excerpt from Winter Kisses

  About the Author

  For my loving (and purring) herd of “editors”—Jet, Lily, and Rico

  And in loving memory of my sweet “editor”

  Molly. We miss you every day!

  Glossary

  ach: oh

  appeditlich: delicious

  Ausbund: hymn book used in the Amish congregation

  bedauerlich: sad

  boppli: baby

  bu: boy

  buwe: boys

  Christenpflict: Amish prayer book

  daadi: grandpa

  daadihaus: grandparents’ house

  danki: thank you

  dat: dad

  Englisch: English, non-Amish

  fraa: wife

  Frehlicher Grischtdaag: Merry Christmas

  freind: friend

  freinden: friends

  froh: happy

  gegisch: silly

  gern gschehne: you’re welcome

  gut: good

  gut nacht: good night

  haus: house

  Ich liebe dich: I love you

  kaffi: coffee

  kichli: cookie

  kichlin: cookies

  liewe: love

  maed: young women, girls

  maedel: young woman

  mamm: mom

  mammi: grandma

  mei: my

  naerfich: nervous

  narrisch: crazy

  nee: no

  schee: pretty

  schmaert: smart

  schtupp: family room

  schweschder: sister

  Was iss letz?: What’s wrong?

  Wie geht’s: How do you do? or Good day!

  wunderbaar: wonderful

  ya: yes

  Chapter 1

  A cat was sitting on her back porch.

  Emma Bontrager balanced her grocery bag and a stack of mail in one hand and rubbed her tired eyes. Then she looked at the porch again. Yes, there was definitely a cat there.

  Not just any cat, but a rotund orange tabby. And he—weren’t most cats that large male?—seemed quite comfortable as he lifted one of his paws and licked it in the crisp late afternoon. In fact, did he look as though he’d been patiently awaiting her return?

  No. Of course not.

  Emma pursed her lips and studied the animal. Though he wore no collar, he looked well fed, as though he’d never had to make his own way in the world. Had someone dropped him off in the country because they didn’t want him anymore? She’d heard of that happening.

  Well, no matter. He didn’t belong on the back porch of her house. Somebody else would have to take care of him. He’d probably try one of her neighbors next, someone who’d see to him.

  As Emma’s sore knees carried her up the back steps of her two-story white clapboard house, she was careful not to slip on the slick wood. A layer of ice had formed over already-packed snow. She should have shoveled the snow as soon as it fell, but her aching back had convinced her to dismiss the idea. And she should have bought another bag of salt to melt the ice, but she’d forgotten to put it on her list.

  The fact was, if she hadn’t needed a few food supplies, she wouldn’t have ventured out at all today except to care for her mare. Her horse was the only animal left on this small farm. She didn’t even keep chickens anymore.

  “Shoo! Shoo!” she hissed, waving the envelopes at the cat. “Go on. Git!”

  The cat blinked at her and then lazily sauntered down the steps toward the rock driveway, his belly swinging with the rhythm of his gait.

  Something wet slid down Emma’s nose, and she wiped it away. Glancing up, she blinked as snow flurries floated from the sky.

  “Ach, nee,” she whispered, shaking her head. “We don’t need more snow.”

  The air suddenly felt colder as snowflakes peppered her hands and her coat. She shivered.

  Emma pushed open the storm door, entered the mudroom, and then closed the heavy wooden door behind her. The warmth of the house began to cover her like a soft blanket. She removed her boots and hung up her coat and purse on pegs, then stepped into her spacious kitchen, placed the grocery bag and stack of mail from the last two days on the counter, and tended to the coal stove in one corner.

  She knew what most of the envelopes held before she even opened them—Christmas cards. But she couldn’t bring herself to read thoughtful Christmas wishes from members of her community and friends who had moved away. While they all meant well, it couldn’t possibly be a merry Christmas without Henry.

  With a sigh, she left the unopened cards on the counter and looked around the kitchen. It was Christmas Eve, and the house was too quiet. For the first time since this farmhouse had become her home, Emma hadn’t bothered to decorate with greenery. She hadn’t purchased a special candle for her shelf next to the kitchen window. And she hadn’t baked cookies or bought any gifts.

  She stared at the grocery bag. Every Christmas Eve since she and Henry married forty-five years ago, Emma had made him cherry bars. Inside were the ingredients she’d purchased to make them once more, and beside the bag was her favorite cookbook with the precious recipe inside.

  But this was her first Christmas without Henry. He wouldn’t be here to eat the special treat. Tears blurred her vision. She’d purchased the ingredients on impulse, hoping baking the bars would improve her mood. But who would eat them all?

  Emma bit her lower lip as she picked up a dish towel. Making the bars was better than sitting around and feeling sorry for herself. It would not only give her something to do but fill the house with the delicious aroma she’d looked forward to every year. She’d worry about what to do with all the cherry bars later.

  She found the worn, stained page with the recipe and stared at the directions. But then memories washed over her, and ambition drained from her body. He
r thoughts transported her back to the day Henry Bontrager changed her life.

  “Two more youth groups joined us today,” Sally said as she sat down on the grass beside Emma. “One is from near Lititz, and the other is from Ronks.”

  “Oh, ya. I had forgotten about that.” Emma pulled at a blade of grass and looked toward the three makeshift volleyball courts nearby. The warm June sun kissed her cheeks and warmed her back as Emma scanned the unfamiliar faces at the Fisher farm that Sunday afternoon. Her gaze fixed on a young man with the most striking blue eyes she’d ever seen. He laughed at something someone near him said, and an electric smile lit up his handsome face. He was tall—probably several inches taller than her five-foot-five frame—and had golden-brown hair, a long, thin nose, chiseled cheekbones, and a strong jaw. And, of course, a clean-shaven face.

  Suddenly he looked toward Emma, and when their gazes locked he smiled at her.

  Emma gaped as her cheeks heated from more than the sun’s rays. She quickly looked down, averting her eyes from his compelling stare.

  “What were you looking at?” Sally leaned closer to Emma. Sally Stoltzfus had been Emma’s best friend since first grade, and it was hard to hide anything from her. But she had to try.

  “Nothing.” Emma returned her attention to pulling blades of grass. She couldn’t bother wasting her emotions on any young man with Sally there, even if he was from another church district. With her hair that shone like gold, bright smile, and outgoing, friendly personality, Sally always caught the boys’ attention, not Emma. She had ordinary dark-brown hair and unremarkable brown eyes. And she was shy.

  “You were looking at something. Or should I say someone.” Sally’s voice was right next to Emma’s ear. “Which bu?”

  “There’s nee bu.” Emma kept her gaze focused on the grass she’d torn from the ground.

  “Oh, come on. Tell me which one so I don’t accidentally like the same bu.”

  Emma swallowed a sarcastic snort. “It wouldn’t matter. The buwe notice you before they even realize I’m alive.”

  Sally gasped. “That’s not true.”

  “Ya, it is.” Emma turned toward her friend’s shocked expression. “Don’t you remember when we were at the gathering at Sadie’s haus, and Danny Esh smiled at us? When he walked over, he talked to you and not me. He completely ignored me.”

  “Oh nee. I didn’t even realize that.” Sally frowned. “I’m so sorry. I should have brought you into the conversation.”

  “It’s fine.” Emma touched her arm. “I didn’t mean to make you feel bad. I’m not envious of you. I just know the buwe prefer you to me. It’s okay. My time will come. It just has to be the right bu.”

  “Do you want to join my volleyball team?”

  Emma glanced up toward the unfamiliar voice and squinted against the bright sun. She tented her hand over her eyes, then stifled a gasp. She blinked, half expecting the boy with the captivating smile to disappear like a figment of her imagination. But he stood there, those blue eyes searching hers as if his next words were going to change the course of his life.

  “Do you like volleyball?”

  Dumbfounded, Emma studied his expression. Surely he had to be asking Sally and not her.

  “Ya, she does like volleyball.” Sally nudged Emma’s arm. “She was just telling me she wanted to play, but she wasn’t sure which team to join.”

  Emma glared at Sally, who nudged her again as if urging her to go.

  “Get up, Emma.” Sally nodded toward the young man. “He wants you to play volleyball. You should go.”

  “So do you want to join my team?” the boy asked, his eyes still focused solely on Emma. “One of our players just decided to take a break, so we need someone else.”

  His smile was so genuine, so enticing. How could she say no?

  “Okay.” Emma brushed her hands together, cleaning off the stray blades of grass.

  “Wunderbaar.” He held out his hand to her.

  Emma took it, and electricity seemed to spark between them when their skin touched. He lifted her to her feet as if she weighed nothing.

  “I’m Henry Bontrager. I live in Ronks.” He wasn’t letting go of her hand.

  “I’m Emma Zook, and I live here in Bird-in-Hand.”

  “It’s nice to meet you.” He shook her hand once and then released it. “I noticed you watching the game, so I thought you might like to join us.”

  He noticed me? Emma’s stomach did a flip-flop. Why would this handsome man notice me with Sally sitting right there?

  “Henry!” a guy by the volleyball court called. “Are you coming?”

  “Ya!” Henry responded before looking back at Emma. “Let’s go play. Then maybe we can talk later. Does that sound gut?”

  “Ya.” Emma nodded. “It does.”

  Henry turned toward Sally. “You’re sure it’s all right if I steal your freind for a while?”

  Sally grinned as she waved them off. “Ya, it’s fine. Go and have fun. I’ll be fine here.” When Henry looked away, Sally winked at Emma.

  Emma and Henry played volleyball all afternoon, and later they sat by the pond on the Fisher farm and talked until it was time to head for home. Later that week Henry came to visit her at her family’s house, and they sat on the front porch talking late into the evening. His visits grew more frequent, and their summer quickly filled with picnics and dinners with each other’s family.

  By the time the summer came to an end, Emma realized she had found the love of her life.

  When a strange scratching sound filled the kitchen, Emma came back to the present. She walked through the mudroom and peered out the window, then opened the inside door to peer out. The back porch was empty, and the path leading to the rock driveway was looking whiter and whiter. The snow flurries had turned to large, fluffy flakes.

  But who had scratched on her door?

  She cracked open the storm door, and a slight movement made her look down to her right. The fat tabby was just sitting there, snowflakes sprinkled all over his orange fur. He was staring up at her as if to say, What took you so long?

  “Rrrwow.” He blinked at her.

  Emma shook her head and clicked her tongue. “You again?”

  The cat took a step toward the house, and Emma pulled the storm door nearly closed.

  “Nee, nee. Nee animals in the haus.” She waved the cat away with her dish towel. “Shoo! Go on. Go find another place to land.”

  But he didn’t move, and the guilt she felt as she studied his snowy fur made her hesitate.

  “All right. Go to the barn. I’m sure you’ll find a way in, and you can make a bed in the hay. It’s warmer in there than it is on the porch.”

  As she closed the door, Emma thought she saw something move in her peripheral vision. But when she glanced over her shoulder toward the kitchen, she didn’t see anything.

  With a shrug, Emma moved to put away her perishables, then decided to build a fire in the family room and rest. When she reached the doorway, she halted and gasped. The orange tabby was curled up in a ball in Henry’s favorite chair. She marched across the room and stared down at him.

  “What are you doing?” she demanded, hands on her hips.

  The cat simply lifted his head, blinked at her again, and snuggled deeper into the worn and faded blue fabric of the wing chair.

  “I told you to go to the barn.”

  The ball of fur rolled onto his back and, upside down, looked up at her. Emma didn’t see any intent to obey her command in those eyes.

  A smile tugged at the corners of her lips. The cat certainly was cute. Perhaps it would be nice to have someone, even if only a cat, to talk to tonight. The Blank family had invited her over for supper, but Emma couldn’t imagine venturing out again today.

  She never liked traveling in the snow and ice, even when Henry had been here to guide the horse. And now the streets would be dangerous. She’d heard too many stories about cars colliding with buggies on roads with treacherous conditions.
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br />   Emma lowered herself into the chair beside Henry’s and touched the cat’s fur. When his head shot up, she flinched and pulled her hand away. The tabby studied her, blinked, and then lowered his head again. She scratched his velvety ear, and a soft rumble sounded from deep inside his body. He was purring!

  “Oh, you like that?” Emma smiled. “What should I call you?”

  The cat rolled onto his side.

  “Henry loved this chair as much as you seem to love it. His freind Urie used to call him Hank sometimes. Why don’t I call you that?” When the cat didn’t protest, she chuckled. “Hank it is.”

  Emma continued to rub his ear as he closed his eyes and purred again.

  “What would Henry say if he saw you lounging in his chair?” She tilted her head as the image of her husband filled her mind. “I suppose he would ask me why I’d let a cat into the haus.” They’d never had pets at all. Henry had been allergic to cats and dogs.

  A memory flooded Emma’s mind. “I remember one hot summer evening when Henry came to see me,” she whispered to her new companion. He opened one eye and seemed perfectly content to listen. “He seemed so naerfich, but it wasn’t because of a cat. It was a year after we met, and he had some exciting news.”

  Emma shooed one of their barn cats off the porch as Henry sneezed once more, then handed him a bottle of her father’s homemade root beer before sitting beside him on her parents’ front-porch swing. “How was your day?”

  “It was gut.” Henry smiled. “Danki for the root beer. I’ve been thinking about your dat’s root beer all day.” His smile waned as his voice took on a serious tone. “Actually, I was thinking about you all day.”

  Her heart felt as though it turned over in her chest as he looked down at the bottle in his hands. He moved his fingers over it, leaving rivulets in the condensation.

  He suddenly looked up at her, and his expression seemed tentative, almost nervous. “Mei dat and I found an empty storefront in Bird-in-Hand, and he’s offered to help me pay the rent to open up my feed store.”

  “Really?” A smile overtook her lips. “You want to open your store here in Bird-in-Hand?”