An Amish Christmas Wedding Read online

  When the moment arrived, Leesa rose on legs with muscles like vanilla pudding. She peeked at the congregation for one last look at Tommy, who sat with her brothers. He grinned and waved. Encouraged, she took a long breath and staggered to the spot where Noah stood. Vaguely she was aware of Mercy and Christine behind her. Andy and Caleb stood near Henry. Then her vision narrowed. She and Henry were alone in their new home with only the bishop between them.

  His expression somber, Noah nodded once and began. He didn’t need a book. They’d all grown up listening to these words and knew them by heart.

  “Are you confident that this, our sister, is ordained of God to be your wedded wife?”

  Henry’s deep bass echoed through the room. “Jah.”

  “Are you confident that this, our brother, is ordained of God to be your wedded husband?”

  Leesa stifled the urge to turn and shout to the world—or at least her Gmay. “Jah.”

  The next question, the same for the both of them, asked before God and the church that they would never depart from each other, always care for and cherish each other, regardless of sickness or circumstance that a Christian husband or wife must be responsible to care for, until God would separate them from each other.

  Indeed. No doubt. Leesa hazarded a side glance at Henry. His eyes were bright, his face crimson, his expression determined. “Jah.”

  He took her right hand in his. His fingers were warm and strong. Noah placed his hand over theirs. “So then may I say, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob be with you and help you together and fulfill his blessing abundantly upon you, through Jesus Christ. Amen.”

  They were husband and wife. No applause rang out. No cheers. They simply returned to their seats, Henry on the men’s side, Leesa with the women, for the final hymn. Mercy and the other women slipped out to prepare the food.

  Leesa was now a married woman. Two years ago she never would have imagined that would be possible.

  Oh ye of little faith.

  Sorry, Gott.

  The hymn ended, and Leesa stood with the others. Few words were spoken, but the hugs flew so quickly she barely had a chance to breathe before the next one came.

  Finally, she stood face-to-face with her new husband while the other men rearranged benches and brought in tables for the meal.

  Henry grabbed her hand, tugged their coats from a hook by the front door, and gently nudged her out to the front porch.

  She tried—if only half-heartedly—to pull away. “Henry!”

  He put one finger to his lips. “Shush!”

  Frigid December air greeted them. Sunlight turned the snow into a brilliantly sparkling meadow so bright Leesa had to squint and raise her free hand to her forehead.

  “Quick, kiss your husband.”

  She had a husband. The thought dumbfounded her. Leesa flew into his arms, and he lifted her in the air and whirled her around. “Frehlicher Grischtdaag, mann.”

  “Frehlicher Grischtdaag, fraa.” Henry kissed her and set her back on the porch. “I couldn’t ask for a better gift.”

  “We’ll never be able to top this gift, no matter how long we’re married.”

  “I don’t know about that. Wait until we have boplin of our own.”

  Joyful anticipation filled her so fiercely Leesa had to look down to make sure her feet were still planted on the porch’s pine slats.

  She pulled Henry to her for another kiss.

  Bam-bam. Something smacked hard against the wall over her head.

  Bam-bam. Another one and another one.

  “Hey!” Henry moved to block the icy snowballs bombarding them from the front yard. “Tommy Bontrager, you’re in for it now.”

  Soon to be Tommy Lufkin.

  “Promises, promises!”

  Bellowing with laughter, Henry grabbed Leesa’s arm and propelled her down the steps. “We’ve been challenged.”

  “I was a gut pitcher in baseball.”

  Leesa scooped up a mound of snow and molded it into a firm ball. She let it fly.

  Tommy ducked but not quick enough. It caught him square in the chest.

  “Hey, Mudder! That’s not nice.”

  Mudder. The word was like the sweet smell of fresh-cut grass in spring. She had been Tommy’s teacher. Now she would be his mother forever. “Suh, you had it coming.”

  He hurled another, bigger snowball. It grazed her kapp, spinning it sideways. “Now you’re in for it!”

  The snowballs zipped back and forth, fast and furious. Leesa laughed so hard she couldn’t breathe.

  Their raucous shouts brought others piling out the door. Soon they were joined by sisters, brothers, cousins, friends, and family.

  Gasping for air, her cheeks and hands frozen, Leesa paused for one second.

  Danki, Gott.

  He had a plan, one she never could have imagined. He wanted her to know:

  This is what love sounds like.

  This is what love feels like.

  Merry Christmas, Gott, Merry Christmas.

  Wreathed in Joy

  Dedication

  To James Fuller. I love you.

  Prologue

  Mary Wengerd lowered herself onto a wooden park bench as flakes of snow floated around her. She shivered, then glanced up at the dusky sky. It was way too cold to be sitting outside in this weather, but she couldn’t go back home. Not until she talked to Jakob.

  This had been their favorite spot to meet ever since they were young children. The small park was within walking distance of both their homes in Middlefield, but right now it was empty of visitors. That didn’t surprise her. Who would be enjoying a park on a freezing December evening two days before Christmas?

  Sighing, she rose and started to pace. Although she wore her warmest coat, boots, gloves, and tights—her muffler tucked tightly around her neck and her bonnet securely over her kapp—she was still cold, more so on the inside than out. Her stomach turned. She’d been dreading talking to Jakob all day. But she couldn’t put off this conversation any longer.

  “Mary.”

  She turned at Jakob’s familiar deep voice, and for some strange reason she remembered the day she noticed it was changing. One day when they were both fourteen and the best of friends—which their other friends thought was odd, though that had never mattered to either of them—his voice had squeaked while reciting his English homework to the class. She was the only student who hadn’t laughed. Now that voice was rich and warm, but it didn’t reach her heart. And that was the problem.

  “Hi, Jakob. Danki for meeting me here.”

  He glanced up at the sky, and a few snowflakes caught on his blond eyelashes. “It’s not a gut night for meeting here,” he murmured.

  “I didn’t realize it was going to snow when I left a message asking you to come.” She sat back down on the bench, and Jakob joined her. She assumed he would reach for one of her hands to hold, just as he had so many times before. But this time he didn’t. He wasn’t even looking at her.

  “I’ve got something to tell you,” they said at the same time, then looked at each other. Mary was sure his surprised expression mirrored her own.

  “You do?” she asked.

  He nodded, now staring at the ground. Snow was gathering on his broad shoulders, dusting his coat with white powder. “But you geh first.”

  “You can geh,” she said, eager for the few minutes’ respite even though she had no idea what he was going to tell her.

  “You’re the one who wanted to meet.” He glanced at her, and she didn’t see the usual twinkle in his dark-gray eyes. The combination of gray and blond was unique, and she’d never seen a man who looked quite like Jakob.

  She pulled her gaze away from him, forcing herself to focus, then said a quick prayer before taking a deep breath. “I don’t think we should date anymore,” she blurted.

  He slumped against the bench. “That’s such a relief.”

  Her head snapped back to look at him. “What?”

&nb
sp; Jakob waved his hand. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.” But even in the dimming light of sunset, she could see the relief in his eyes. “It’s just . . . Well, I was going to say the same thing.”

  “You were?” She felt a flash of hurt at his words even though she knew she was doing the right thing. “If you were unhappy with how it’s been between us, Jakob Mullet, why didn’t you say something sooner?”

  “Why didn’t you?”

  “Because I didn’t want to hurt yer feelings.” She angled her body on the bench so she could look at him directly.

  “I didn’t want to hurt yers either.” He paused. “Have I?”

  She wasn’t about to admit she’d felt that quick flash of rejection. This was what she wanted. “Of course not. I just find it seltsam that we’re on the same page.”

  “For once.” He blew out a breath, and a cloudy puff hung in the air. “It seems like we haven’t been on the same page ever since we started dating.”

  She nodded. Six months ago, after years of friendship and encouragement from their friends and family, they’d begun a new relationship. But dating Jakob had never felt right. It felt forced, and nothing romantic had developed between them other than holding hands. Just the thought of kissing him—a show of affection neither had pursued—unsettled her. This wasn’t what love was supposed to be like, and it got to the point where she’d started to dread being with him. That had never been the case before. “I miss mei friend,” she said, half to him and half to herself.

  “Me too. Our relationship was easier when we were just friends.” He rubbed his bare hands over his pants legs, then stuck them in the pockets of his coat. “We shouldn’t have listened to everyone telling us we were meant to be a couple.”

  “They never understood our relationship.”

  “Exactly.” He looked at her, then rubbed his thumb over her cheek. “Snowflake,” he said before jamming his hand back into his pocket.

  And this was a prime example. Shouldn’t she have felt something when he touched her cheek? Shouldn’t she have butterflies in her stomach? Shouldn’t she want him to move nearer, put his arm around her, and draw her close? But she didn’t want any of that, and it was a blessing he felt the same way.

  Still . . .

  “Where do we geh from here?” she asked.

  “Back to the way things were, I guess.” He got up from the bench. “I don’t know about you, but I’m freezing.” He started to reach for her hand, then retreated. “Do you want me to walk you home?”

  She shook her head. “I think I’ll sit here for a little while.”

  He frowned slightly, then nodded. “Make sure you don’t stay out too long.”

  “I won’t.”

  He hesitated, and she couldn’t decipher his expression. Then he turned and headed home, in the opposite direction of her house.

  She settled back against the bench. The snow fell harder now, but she still didn’t leave. Jakob’s words echoed in her mind. Back to the way things were. They’d been friends since they were six, best friends since they were ten. They’d dated for only six months, but considering the awkwardness of the relationship, she didn’t consider that official dating. So returning to their friendship wouldn’t be too hard . . . would it? And she’d feel nothing but relief in no time . . . wouldn’t she?

  “Of course it won’t, and of course I will,” she said, standing. Positive that everything between her and Jakob would now be right, she headed home—ignoring the niggling doubt in her heart.

  1

  Early December, one year later

  Mildly curious about why a car was parked in their driveway, Jakob drove his buggy toward the Wengerds’ house. Other than attending church here the few times Mary’s parents had hosted a service, he hadn’t visited the family’s home for nearly a year. Or rather, he hadn’t visited Mary specifically.

  Even though he’d spent most of his free time with her for years—hanging out with her and her family, her three older siblings having included the two of them in their activities even after they’d all married and moved into their own homes—it seemed so strange to be here.

  Yet he smiled at the memories—only to frown at the thought of how he and Mary had ruined everything by dating.

  But he wasn’t here to see her. At church the previous Sunday, her father, Wayne, had asked him to come over. He’d made a point of saying what day and time, but when a friend approached him and interrupted their conversation, he’d stopped short of specifying a reason. Jakob had hoped to discreetly ask him if Mary would be there, but he’d lost his chance.

  Looking back, he realized the question would have been awkward between them. Everyone had to be dumbfounded that he and Mary had failed to resume their friendship, and he couldn’t blame them. After all, they’d told close family and friends that was their plan. Well, at least he had. But he’d rarely mentioned her to anyone now. For some reason, returning to just friends had immediately proven impossible. Even seeing each other at church had been painfully tense.

  What had really bothered him was how Mary seemed resentful toward him, and before long he felt resentful toward her too. After all, she’d wanted the breakup as well.

  He’d dated two other girls since their breakup, but neither relationship had worked out. And he’d tried not to pay attention to what Mary was doing with her social life. But even in a larger district like their own, word got around. He’d heard she dated LeRoy Yoder for a while. He had to admit he’d been glad they’d broken up. LeRoy was all wrong for her. He could have told her that . . . if they were talking to each other.

  He shook his head. He was overthinking this. Wayne needed to see him in his home for some reason, and if Mary was here, they’d just avoid each other as much as possible—like always.

  He hitched his horse to a post, then put a blanket over him for warmth against the frigid December air before climbing up to the Wengerds’ front porch. He knocked on the door, and when it opened, Mary’s mother stood there.

  “Jakob,” Maria said, her brow lifting in surprise. Then confusion filled her green eyes, which were so much like Mary’s. She pushed up her silver-rimmed glasses. “I didn’t know you were coming today.”

  Wayne hadn’t told her he’d invited him to be there? He wasn’t sure what to say now.

  “Well, don’t just stand there. Come inside.” She opened the door wider and motioned for him to enter.

  He stepped across the threshold. “Is Wayne around?”

  “I expect him home soon. He must be running late at work.” She tilted her head. “He’s the one you’re here to see, then?” Now she looked curious too.

  “Ya.” Jakob put his hands behind his back.

  “Oh. Okay. Let me take yer coat.”

  For a moment Jakob strained to see if he could hear Mary’s voice. But then he quickly slipped off his boots while shrugging out of his coat. “Danki.”

  Maria, her expression uncertain, said, “Geh on into the kitchen to wait for Wayne. And help yerself to some hot chocolate. I just made some for our other guest.”

  “Oh. Okay. Danki.”

  When she didn’t say who the guest was, he assumed it was some English friend of the Wengerds’, someone with a car. He also assumed Maria would join them shortly. Still hoping Mary was out somewhere, he strode across the wide living room and entered the kitchen, then halted.

  Mary was seated at the table with her English friend, Quinn Butler.

  His gaze met Mary’s, and he saw both surprise and suspicion in her eyes. Those beautiful green eyes, he noted, which were on a very pretty face, framed by black hair peeking from under a kapp. Regardless of their relationship—or lack of one—Mary was still the prettiest girl he’d ever met. That would never change.

  But everything between them had.

  * * *

  “Hey, Jakob.”

  Mary stared at him in near shock and then at Quinn in consternation. Her friend had risen from the table and was giving Jakob a big hug. That g
reeting wasn’t unusual for her. She was about that friendly with everyone.

  Jakob returned the hug with a smile.

  “Long time no see,” Quinn added, sitting back down. She pointed at the chair opposite Mary, completely missing her glare. Ugh, her friend could be so thickheaded sometimes—although she quickly had to admit this wasn’t one of those times.

  Quinn had lived next door their whole lives—until she moved to Madison only last year—and she was still her best Yankee friend. She’d also been one of the driving forces behind her and Jakob shifting their relationship “to the next level,” as Quinn had labeled it. But although the two women had stayed close, Mary had managed to conceal the fact that she and Jakob rarely even spoke to each other after the breakup. Quinn probably assumed he still visited her on a regular basis, that their friendship had been saved.

  It hadn’t.

  “What have you been up to, Jake?” Quinn asked.

  “The same old. Working in the woodshop, making cabinets and such.” He sat back in his chair, and Mary studied him. When he’d first come in, he’d seemed . . . well, a little taken aback. Because Quinn was there? Or because she was? But now he was behaving as though he’d just been here yesterday, and the day before, and the day before—like he used to be. Well, nearly that often.

  Mary threaded her fingers together under the table. Maybe he was just trying to seem relaxed in front of Quinn. But if this was for real, how could he be so blasé about being in her home after all this time? Then again, Quinn also had a way of putting people at ease, and now she was telling Jakob about her upcoming wedding. The wedding she no doubt thought he already knew about.

  What was he doing here, anyway?

  “I know it’s unusual to plan a wedding for Christmas Eve. Not only did we want a short engagement but Tanner and I thought it would be easier on our extended family to marry when we’re all gathering for the holidays anyway.” Quinn smiled, her vibrant blue eyes filled with delight. Then she looked at Mary. “Besides, Mary and I have always dreamed about planning our weddings for Christmastime.”