An Amish Proposal for Christmas, page 1
“I didn’t mean to make you sad...”
The tune for “O Come, All Ye Faithful” popped into Becca’s head. She didn’t realize she was humming it until Gideon gave her a look, and then they both laughed at the same time.
“Maybe you inherited your love for Christmas from your mamm.”
Becca sat up straighter. “You could be right. I remember stringing popcorn and berries and wrapping it around the porch railing with her. And baking cookies. And sitting next to her as Dat read the Christmas story.”
He smiled and said, “One mystery explained—the origin of Becca’s Christmas fascination.” He pulled up a handful of weeds, tossed them in the air and smiled like he’d done something noteworthy.
She caught herself staring at his hands, remembering what they’d felt like holding hers. She shook her head, attempting to clear it, then gave up and pressed her palms against her cheeks.
“Am I giving you a headache?”
“You are.”
“Should I go?” His voice had dropped an octave. “I will, if you want me to. It’s just that...”
“What?”
“I’ve missed you, Becca...”
Vannetta Chapman has published over one hundred articles in Christian family magazines and received over two dozen awards from Romance Writers of America chapter groups. She discovered her love for the Amish while researching her grandfather’s birthplace of Albion, Pennsylvania. Her first novel, A Simple Amish Christmas, quickly became a bestseller. Chapman lives in Texas Hill Country with her husband.
Books by Vannetta Chapman
Love Inspired
Indiana Amish Market
An Amish Proposal for Christmas
Indiana Amish Brides
A Widow’s Hope
Amish Christmas Memories
A Perfect Amish Match
The Amish Christmas Matchmaker
An Unlikely Amish Match
The Amish Christmas Secret
An Amish Winter
“Stranded in the Snow”
The Baby Next Door
An Amish Baby for Christmas
The Amish Twins Next Door
Visit the Author Profile page at LoveInspired.com.
AN AMISH PROPOSAL FOR CHRISTMAS
Vannetta Chapman
There is no fear in love.
—1 John 4:18
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach.
—Elizabeth Barrett Browning
This book is dedicated to my readers.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Dear Reader
Excerpt from Her Surprise Christmas Courtship by Emma Miller
Chapter One
Shipshewana, Indiana, May 17
Rebecca Yoder checked her reflection in the ladies’ room mirror at the Shipshewana Outdoor Market—the largest outdoor market in the Midwest, if the town’s advertisement flyers were to be believed. Large or not, she couldn’t wait to be far from this place. Any direction would do, just not here. She straightened her apron, made sure her kapp was properly fastened and threw back her shoulders.
She could do this.
Train her replacement. Confirm her position with the mission board. Start living life on her own terms.
She marched down the hall and tapped on the closed door with General Manager stenciled on the front. Her dat called out, “Come in,” so she did. He was sitting with Gideon Fisher, the new hire who was to take her place.
Becca hadn’t actually met Gideon, but she’d heard plenty about him. He was the middle child of nine siblings, and his parents were longtime friends of her dat. Apparently, they’d asked that Amos find a place for Gideon at the market. He was born and raised in the small Amish community of Beeville in South Texas.
Texas. To Becca, even a small town in nowhere Texas sounded better than Northern Indiana.
“Rebecca, come in. I want you to meet Gideon.”
She smiled in what she hoped was a friendly and confident manner and took the seat next to Gideon. “Gut to meet you, Gideon.”
“And you, Rebecca.” He said her name with a southern drawl that reminded her of a slow-moving river.
“Becca is fine.”
He nodded as if that made sense, but he didn’t comment.
She knew from what her dat had shared that Gideon was a bit shy, but he managed to make eye contact before glancing away.
He looked to be a tall man, though she couldn’t really tell since he was seated. He had blond hair and blue eyes.
Why was he so shy?
None of that mattered. The only thing she needed to be concerned with was that he take the job permanently so she could escape this place.
Her dat was still looking at her with a Cheshire cat grin, which usually meant he was up to something—and usually that something was matchmaking. Now, which of her four schweschdern did he have in mind for Gideon? She almost felt sorry for the man sitting beside her, but she quickly pushed away any such sentiments. If he fell for one of her schweschdern, he’d be more likely to stay, keep the job and survive the ninety-day trial period.
As soon as he did that, she was free.
“Gideon is eager to begin today.”
“As am I.” She turned to toss another smile at Gideon. “I can’t wait to show you our wunderbaar market.”
“It’s bigger than I imagined.”
“Oh ya—biggest in the Midwest.” She nearly slapped her forehead. To her ears, she sounded like one of the Shipshe flyers. “We’ll have you up to speed in no time.”
“It’s a lot to learn,” Amos cautioned. “Becca has been helping here at the market since she was old enough to count out change.”
“All of my life.” She tried to make that sound like a good thing.
“Rest assured that I’m putting your training in her competent hands.”
Her dat had recently turned fifty-six. They teased him often about his beard, which was mostly gray now, and his brown hair, which was still putting up a fight. He was round and usually jolly, though quite serious at work. His wire-rim spectacles gave him a solemn look.
“He might not even need ninety days,” she suggested. “I suspect Gideon will be a fast learner.”
“Becca, we will not rush this.”
“Oh, I wasn’t—”
“It’s very important that Gideon shadow you for the first thirty days. Gideon, I expect you to take notes and ask questions.”
Gideon nodded again, but this time the corners of his mouth were turned down.
Becca barely resisted rolling her eyes. It wasn’t as if he’d be expected to perform surgery. It was an outdoor market—didn’t take a genius to manage the vendors, oversee the auction, maintain the calendar, schedule deliveries and hold meetings.
“After the initial thirty days, the second month of your internship is when you’ll split the responsibilities with Becca, cycling through each section of the market until you’re comfortable with every facet of your job.”
Becca would only be working part-time at that point. She could begin preparing for her position with Mennonite Disaster Services. She wondered where her first assignment would be. Perhaps in Oregon, which suffered with wildfires nearly every August. Or maybe there would be flooding in Tennessee. Not that she hoped for such a terrible thing, but she’d always wanted to see the Smoky Mountains.
“Finally, Becca will be available for the final thirty days of your ninety-day trial period, to answer questions or help with emergencies.”
The last emergency she remembered was the cotton candy machine breaking down in the snack bar. Becca was pretty sure Gideon could handle things on his own, but she nodded enthusiastically. It was easier—and more expedient—to go along with her father’s plan. Disagreeing with him, especially in matters related to the market, was a lesson in frustration.
“Do either of you have any questions?”
“We’ll be fine, Dat. Try not to worry.”
“I’m the general manager. Worrying is part of my job description.”
Becca glanced at her watch. “Eight thirty. Gates are open, so I suppose we should get started.” She popped out of her chair.
“Wait—here’s a schedule.” Amos handed her a slip of paper filled from top to bottom with his neat handwriting. Her dat was famous for his small slips of paper that invariably contained lists of things she didn’t want to do.
She scanned it quickly, then passed it to Gideon. “I’m ready if you are, Gideon.”
He was now standing, but held back when she walked to the door. “Thank you, Amos. I appreciate you giving me this opportunity.”
“We’re happy to have you here. Becca will be able to answer any questions
They were out of the office, down the hall and out of the building before Gideon managed to say what was on his mind. “Any idea what that was about?”
“What what was about?”
“Your dat thinking I need a babysitter.”
“He never said that.”
Their first stop was the vendor spaces outside the auction building. Gideon turned left. Becca snagged his arm and nodded toward the right.
“He could have simply given me the list.”
“He could have, but then you might have ended up in the livestock barn when you’re supposed to be in the auction building.”
“Honest mistake.”
“Look.” She stopped in the middle of a walkway teeming with people—Amish, Englisch, young and old. The day was achingly beautiful, and it flashed through Becca’s mind that she might actually miss this place. Couldn’t miss it until you left, though, and leaving would only be possible if she convinced Gideon to stay. “Dat is very glad you accepted the position of assistant manager.”
“He said that? Because he looked rather skeptical.”
“He treats this market like it’s his lifework, which I suppose it is.”
Gideon glanced around the crowded aisle where they were standing. Studying him more closely, Becca realized he looked as if he’d stepped off the cover of an Amish novel. Perhaps her youngest schweschder, Ada, would take a liking to him. Ada had recently turned eighteen and was always on the lookout for a new beau, though her relationships tended to have a two-to three-week shelf life.
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-eight. Why?”
Drats. Ten years might be too big of a gap. She discarded the idea of matching him up with Ada. “My oldest schweschder, Sarah, is twenty-eight.”
Gideon shrugged as if he couldn’t care less. Why wasn’t he married? He was good-looking enough; though at the moment, those good looks were marred by an expression of utter dismay.
“Are there always this many people?”
“It’s a gut-sized crowd today. Summers are busy, our special weekends in the fall are busy, even Christmas is busy.”
“Christmas?”
“Ya, we have a special Christmas market—not on Christmas Day, of course, but the weekend leading up to it.”
“Why are we talking about Christmas?”
Becca smiled in what she hoped was a pleasant way. “Because Christmas is my favorite holiday.” She started to add that he hadn’t seen anything yet, but she didn’t want to scare him off. She also thought it best not to add that, in her opinion, a ninety-day trial period was ridiculously long. Surely, three weeks would be enough. Perhaps once her dat saw how well Gideon took to the job, he’d change his mind.
“It’s a beautiful May day. Folks like to come out and do their shopping when the weather is gut.”
“Feels a bit cool to me. It’s already in the nineties in Texas.”
“Is it now?”
Gideon looked a bit homesick.
She needed to distract him, and she needed to do so before he could catch a bus out of town. “Vendors set up in the auction barn are first on the list. Ready?”
She motioned toward the large red building. Gideon absently ran a thumb under his right suspender before shrugging. “Sure. Let’s do this.”
The list had her guiding Gideon through every part of the market grounds, ostensibly to give him an overall feel for the place. Becca had started helping at the market when she was eleven, but she’d been visiting the market since she could walk. She remembered coming here with her mamm.
That thought brought a familiar ache. Her mother had died when she was only seven years old, and yet Becca still felt the pang of loss when she thought of her. Being Amish, they didn’t have many photographs taken, but neither were they forbidden. She knew of three that included her mother, all kept in the family keepsake box in the living room. Her memories of her mamm were more vivid than those photographs. Still, she sometimes liked to pull one out and trace her fingers over the image.
Her mamm had loved the market as much as her dat did. They both considered Shipshewana to be the best place in the world to live.
But Becca wasn’t like her mamm or anyone else in her family. She’d always been the odd girl out. She’d been reading books about other places since she was old enough to borrow them from the library. It seemed ironic that now she was supposed to convince Gideon that the job she couldn’t wait to be rid of was the perfect job for him.
“The market has grown a little busier every year,” she admitted as they walked toward the auction building. “Shipshewana has become quite the tourist mecca, and many of those people come to our little spot in northeastern Indiana specifically to visit our market and auction.”
“How big is this place?”
“Forty acres, with over seven hundred vendor booths.”
Gideon let out a long whistle, causing several of the teenaged Amish girls passing by to glance his way. They smiled, put their heads together and giggled behind their hands.
“I thought Shipshewana was a small town.”
“It is. Our population is still under a thousand.”
“Many towns in Texas are smaller than that.”
Was he going to bring up Texas at every turn of the conversation? Becca darted left to avoid being run over by a baby stroller being pushed by a child barely old enough to see over the top. “That’s the population in the town limits, but there are many more than that in the surrounding county.”
“Oh.”
“And market days bring our numbers up to approximately thirty-five thousand folks.”
Gideon stopped at that, looking at her in disbelief.
Oops. Maybe she should have held that news back until he’d become acclimated.
She cocked her head. “Did you read up on the place before you accepted the job?”
“I read the job requirements.”
“Ah.”
“Not sure I read that number. It’s rather...alarming.”
She smiled brightly, hoping to ease his concerned expression. She’d been in this guy’s presence less than fifteen minutes, and she was already learning that Worried might as well be stamped on Gideon Fisher’s forehead. He had that in common with her dat. But how was he going to be a competent assistant manager if he was overwhelmed by the sheer number of people?
Not her problem.
She was sure her dat had it all worked out.
Amos Yoder didn’t hire someone without checking their background thoroughly and being completely convinced that the applicant was the correct person for the position. Sure, the job offer had also been a favor for his parents, but that didn’t mean Gideon couldn’t do it. If her dat said that Gideon would make a good assistant manager, then Becca shouldn’t doubt for a minute that he would.
Once he learned his way around the market.
And stopped gawking at all the people.
And quit comparing everything to Texas.
* * *
Gideon felt like he was riding the tilt-a-whirl at the county fair. He wasn’t sure he’d ever actually been surrounded by this many people. Rebecca—correction, Becca—was easy enough to follow. She marched through the crowd with such authority that the flood of people practically parted to make way for her.
An Amish woman parting the Red Sea.
He almost smiled at the thought, but there wasn’t time. She’d darted right, then left, then entered a door marked Employees Only on the side of the auction building. He rushed to catch up with her. How did she move so fast? She was pretty, energetic and a good six inches shorter, with much smaller feet. Yes, he’d checked her out. He certainly wasn’t in a place in his life where he wanted to court someone, but he had a beating heart. What man wouldn’t notice her?
Personally, he preferred women who weren’t so bossy.
She also seemed rather pushy and dismissive. She’d barely acknowledged his comments about Texas. Obviously, she didn’t realize what a unique and wonderful place it was. Probably she’d never even been out of Indiana. Many Amish never left the county they were born in. Talking of Texas would be like describing the moon to her—totally irrelevant.
