An Amish Christmas Match, page 1
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright © 2024 by Winnie Griggs
Cover design by Daniela Medina. Cover illustration by Kriss Keller.
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Griggs, Winnie, author.
Title: An Amish Christmas match / Winnie Griggs.
Description: First Edition. | New York : Forever, 2024.
Identifiers: LCCN 2024005264 | ISBN 9781538766378 (mass market) | ISBN 9781538766385 (ebook)
Subjects: LCSH: Amish—Fiction. | LCGFT: Christian fiction. | Romance fiction. | Novels.
Classification: LCC PS3607.R55264 A84 2024 | DDC 813/.6—dc23/eng/20240207
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2024005264
ISBNs: 9781538766378 (mass market), 9781538766385 (ebook)
E3-20240801-JV-NF-ORI
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Epilogue
Discover More
About the Author
Also by Winnie Griggs
To my husband, who is my very best friend and biggest supporter—thank you for your patience and belief in me.
To Connor and Renee—thank you for always being there to answer my calls for brainstorming help and for being squarely in my corner, no matter what.
You all make my life richer in more ways than you will ever know.
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Chapter 1
Bergamot, Ohio
Current Day, November
Phoebe Kropf rubbed the sleep from her eyes and yawned, feeling the crisp air from this last day of November seeping through the windows of her small bedroom. It was still dark outside, but she could tell by glancing at the clock that she’d overslept. Mamm and Rhoda would already be up and busy in the kitchen. With a determined sigh, she swung her legs out of bed and stretched.
She crossed the room to fetch her clothes, ignoring the chill from the cool floorboards on her bare feet. As she dressed, Phoebe whispered a little prayer.
Gotte, I know I for sure and for certain messed up on Thanksgiving Day, making a mess when I dropped Mamm’s sweet potato and marshmallow casserole all over the floor. But I haven’t spilled or broken anything in the days since then—and for that I am truly grateful. Please help me to remember to move with deliberation, to not anticipate or improvise, to always follow Mamm’s and Rhoda’s lead. And to not get jealous or rattled when I see Mamm share the handwritten recipes, some from her own mamm, with Rhoda. I want to be helpful the way a woman of twenty-one should be and to please my eldre.
As she adjusted the strings on her kapp, Phoebe smiled at her latest origami creation sitting on her dresser. The prancing horse with one leg slightly raised and the knee bent was the picture of grace and strength. If only she could be like that.
Shaking off those thoughts and ready to face whatever the day would bring, Phoebe made her way downstairs, smiling at the familiar creak of the third and eighth treads. When she nearly lost her footing on the bottom stair, though, she reminded herself of her earlier vow to move with deliberation rather than haste.
She entered the kitchen to find Mamm and Rhoda already bustling about, preparing breakfast. Inhaling the comforting aroma of freshly brewed coffee, she allowed the warmth from the oven and stovetop to chase the chill from her bones.
“Gut matin,” she greeted as she grabbed a worn apron from the hook near the door. “I’m sorry I overslept.”
Mamm’s face softened in an indulgent smile. “It’s all right, liebchen, Rhoda and I are taking care of getting breakfast ready.”
It had been two weeks since the wedding and Phoebe was becoming accustomed to seeing Rhoda as a member of the household. What was harder to get used to was how much Mamm had come to rely on Paul’s new wife and how well the two of them worked together.
It was wrong to be jealous, and she was working hard to overcome those feelings. It should have been easy since she and Rhoda had been scholars together for eight years. But somehow it wasn’t.
Determinedly pushing away those thoughts, she offered a bright smile. “I’m here now so I can help. I see the eggs aren’t out. I’ll fetch them and get to whisking.”
As she finished tying the apron around her waist Phoebe noted the look that passed between her mamm and Rhoda. Was it because she was late or because they didn’t trust her with the eggs?
“I was just about to ask Rhoda to take care of that,” Mamm said. “Why don’t you set the table instead?”
Rhoda cast her a look that was a strange mix of apology and sympathy as she wiped her hands on her apron and moved toward the refrigerator.
She supposed that answered her question—Mamm clearly didn’t trust her to handle the eggs and Rhoda didn’t entirely disagree. Sure, she’d tripped in the chicken yard a week ago and dropped an entire pail of eggs. But it wasn’t her fault a hen had gotten underfoot. And Mamm knew it was only when she was in a hurry, or nervous or excited, that she was so clumsy.
Deciding she would remain positive, Phoebe nodded and moved to the sideboard to collect the dishes and silverware.
Counting out five plates, she placed them on the table without incident, then did the same with the flatware and glasses. That done, Phoebe pulled out the butter, blackberry jam and apple butter and put them on the center of the table.
There. She’d accomplished her assigned task without mishap. What else could she do?
Phoebe looked around the kitchen and noted the fresh-baked loaf of bread sitting on the counter. Since Mamm and Rhoda seemed to have their hands full she’d just take care of slicing it herself. Humming, Phoebe grabbed a large knife and began cutting the bread into nice thick slices, just like her daed and bruder liked.
“Phoebe!” Her mamm’s sharp cry startled Phoebe and her hand slipped, tracing a thin red line on the side of her hand.
Mamm rushed over and took Phoebe’s bleeding hand in her own. “Ach du lieva. What were you thinking? I’ve told you to let me or Rhoda handle the sharp knives.”
She wanted to shout that she wasn’t a child and that she wouldn’t have cut herself if she hadn’t been startled. But that wouldn’t prove to anyone that she was an adult—only actions could do that. “I’m sorry. It was just a bread knife.”
Mamm tsked. “There’s no ‘just’ when you talk about sharp implements.” Then her expression softened. “You know I only want to keep you safe, don’t you?”
“Jah.” But why did it always feel like she was being punished? True, she was somewhat accident-prone, and she’d had trouble with her studies all through her schooling and still could barely read. But why couldn’t Mamm see she wasn’t a kinner anymore? In fact, she was old enough to have a mann and home of her own. Rhoda was proof of that.
Perhaps it was having Rhoda take her place in their home. Perhaps it was just restlessness. But l
Mamm finished examining the cut and patted Phoebe’s hand. “It looks like a shallow cut, and it’s already stopped bleeding. Run a little water on it and let me and Rhoda finish getting breakfast ready.”
Phoebe nodded, noting that Rhoda had already quietly stepped in and finished slicing the bread.
Just then, the kitchen door swung open and her daed entered, fresh from the barn, closely followed by her bruder Paul, Rhoda’s husband. As the pair shed their coats and boots, setting them by the door, Daed inhaled appreciatively. “Ach, these smells alone are enough to warm a man’s insides.” Then he spotted Phoebe and his expression drew down in concern. “Dochder, have you hurt yourself?”
He didn’t say again, but the word hung on the air, as if it were understood.
“It’s nothing.” Phoebe forced a cheerful tone. “Just a shallow cut.”
Daed crossed the room and placed a gentle hand on Phoebe’s shoulder. “We know you’re trying, Phoebe. Just remember, everyone has their strengths. Yours may lie elsewhere.”
Phoebe nodded, appreciating his words of encouragement. But why couldn’t she be more like Mamm and Rhoda?
Like every other girl of her acquaintance?
She saw the warm smile exchanged between Rhoda and Paul across the room and felt an ache deep inside. Would she ever find that for herself?
As Daed and Paul washed their hands, Phoebe couldn’t shake the feelings of inadequacy and frustration that gnawed at her. Would she ever be able to prove to her family that they didn’t have to treat her like a kinner?
Her family loved her, of that she had no doubt. Her four brieder had always been protective and were indulgent, even when they teased her. Part of that was because she was the only girl. But it was also because she was the boppli of the family. It had been thought that after Paul, her mother couldn’t have any additional children, so Phoebe’s appearance five years later was a welcome surprise.
She just wished she could have lived up to their expectations for her.
When everyone was finally seated and they bowed their heads for a moment of silent prayer, she again asked for the patience to be deliberate in her actions and accepting of the role her family—and Gotte—expected her to play.
The talk around the table centered mostly on Honey, one of the cows who might or might not be slowing down her milk production, and the possible causes.
After the meal, Phoebe pushed away from the table. “I believe it’s my turn to wash the dishes.”
Mamm tapped her chin. “But your hand. Perhaps you should let me—”
“My hand is fine, and you and Rhoda took care of preparing breakfast. I can take care of the dishes.” She saw the startled looks on the faces around the table and winced. She’d not only spoken firmly but she’d also interrupted her mamm.
Before she could offer an apology, though, Mamm nodded. “Very well, you wash the dishes. I’ll dry and Rhoda can clear the table.”
Happy with the small victory, Phoebe went to the counter to fill the sink.
She enjoyed working side by side with Mamm, making small talk about the day’s chores, the neighbors’ new boppli and what they would cook for lunch. She didn’t even mind that Mamm was ready to grab each dish almost before she could rinse it.
Just as they finished, Paul reentered the kitchen headed for the basement. Then he paused for a moment. “Phoebe, I almost forgot, Edna called a little while ago. She says she needs to speak to you and will call back at nine o’clock.”
Daed and Paul operated a harness repair business from the farm so they had a phone in the work shed for business purposes.
Phoebe stiffened. Was something wrong? Though Edna always seemed spry and full of life, she was older than Mamm and Daed. And she was like a grossmammi to her. “Did she say what it was about?”
“Nee.” He shrugged. “But she didn’t seem upset so I don’t think it’s bad news.”
Phoebe relaxed.
Still, what could have prompted Edna to call her?
Phoebe was in the workshop, standing by the phone, a full ten minutes before nine o’clock just in case Edna called early. She paced back and forth in front of the worktable where the phone rested. The familiar earthy smell of leather and the musky scent of mink oil tickled her nose. Daed and Paul were on the other side of the workshop, giving her enough distance for a bit of privacy. But she could feel the occasional sideways glances they were giving her. No doubt they were as curious about her phone call as she was.
Four years ago she’d moved in with Edna and her husband, Ivan, for a few months to help out as Ivan lay on his sickbed, preparing for the end of his time on earth. She and Edna had grown very close that summer, sharing hopes, dreams and fears through those long, hushed days of vigil.
Edna had never made Phoebe feel inadequate or clumsy, not then and not at any time since. Truth to tell, she’d had Phoebe take care of many housekeeping and cooking tasks on her own. She’d made it clear that she didn’t believe Phoebe’s difficulties with reading and writing meant she was simple-minded, especially since, by Edna’s reckoning at least, she seemed competent in other aspects of her life. And strangely enough, Phoebe never felt particularly slow-witted when she was in Edna’s company.
Edna had left Bergamot three weeks ago for an extended visit to family she had in Sweetbrier Creek, a community about ninety miles away, and Phoebe missed her dearly.
When the phone finally rang Phoebe jumped and then pounced, almost knocking the phone from the table. The heat climbed in her cheeks as she caught the raised-brow look Daed sent her way.
“Hello?” Her voice sounded breathless even to her own ears.
“Phoebe, it’s so gut to hear your voice.”
“And yours too.” And it was. Edna’s voice was familiar, warm and comforting, just like a soft-from-use quilt on a chilly winter’s day. “How are you enjoying the visit with your shveshtra?”
“It’s been gut seeing everyone and catching up with what’s happened in their lives. But I’m actually staying in the dawdi haus of one of my niece’s sons. There are six Beiler brieder, ages twelve to twenty-nine, living alone without parents or any womenfolk to help them, so I’ve been keeping house for them for the past few weeks.”
Phoebe smiled. She imagined with Edna’s no-nonsense approach she’d gotten that household of untamed menfolk in order in no time at all.
“That’s actually why I’ve called you.”
Phoebe’s smile faded. “I don’t understand.”
“I had a little accident last nacht.” At Phoebe’s exclamation she hurried to explain. “It’s nothing serious, but I won’t be able to use my right hand for five or six weeks and these boys truly need someone to help them out.”
What did that have to do with her? But before she could ask, Edna answered her unspoken question. “I think you would be the perfect person to take on the job.”
Chapter 2
Phoebe straightened. Surely she hadn’t heard that right. “Me? But there must be some family member, or at least someone who lives closer, who would be better.”
“There are no cousins or close relatives available right now without placing a burden on them, and nee, I actually don’t think there would be anyone who would be a better fit.”
That seemed a strange thing to say. “Still, I imagine there are any number of girls who could serve as housekeeper, especially under your supervision.”
“True. But these brieder need more than a housekeeper. They need someone who knows how to care for them in other ways. Seth, the oldest, has his hands full keeping the farm running, working on his side business, and trying to be a daed to the others. The next two brieder live at home but have jobs outside the farm. The middle boy is on rumspringa and is apprenticing with a local furniture maker. The two youngest are still in school.”
“Sounds like a busy household. But I still don’t understand—”
“Seth is doing the best job he can, but these brieder, especially the younger ones, need someone to mother them, they need someone who’ll understand how much to discipline, how much to teach and how much to let them be boys. And you are perfect for that.”
Phoebe wasn’t sure she agreed with her friend on that point—she couldn’t even convince her own mamm that she was capable. But rather than argue the point she moved on. “Even so, Sweetbrier Creek is a long way from Bergamot and Christmas will be here soon. I don’t see how I could go.”
