A Boy's Amish Christmas by Patricia Johns

Author:Patricia Johns
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2023-08-14T14:52:17+00:00

CHAPTER NINE

EMALINE WOKE UP early and refreshed. Outside the bedroom window, she saw rays of sunlight stretching across the fresh snow. The storm had ended.

She quickly got dressed and ready for the day. She reached for her phone and realized she hadn’t plugged it into the battery pack last night. That was so unlike her. She decided to go with it, leaving the phone on low battery for now instead of reaching to check her feeds.

Brett’s room door was still shut when Emaline made her way down into the kitchen. She felt better having made a decision about that news story. Let them see how she wrote, but she wouldn’t use Brett for her own career gains. That was wrong.

Belinda stood at the stove in front of a large pot, slowly stirring with a wooden spoon. The scent of bubbling oatmeal filled the kitchen. Eeyore stood by his bale of feed, contentedly grinding a mouthful of hay. Emaline stopped at Eeyore’s side and gave him a pet. His side rippled in pleasure. This donkey seemed to be getting used to being indoors.

“Good morning, dear,” Belinda said. She looked more tired than usual, her face pale. “The snow has stopped.”

“I see that,” Emaline said. “What will we do now?”

“We’ll have to dig ourselves out,” she replied. “In fact, Eli took Hund out to his own farm to check on his animals. They’ll need new feed and water before we do anything else.”

So Eli headed back to his own space as quickly as he could. Emaline could understand that. But she couldn’t help wondering how Belinda felt this morning about Eli’s declaration. The older woman seemed pale and quiet.

“Can I help with anything?” Emaline asked.

“No, thank you, dear.”

“You look like you could use a rest,” Emaline said delicately. She looked like she could use a good cry, quite honestly.

“I’m fine.” She turned back toward the stove again. “Do you know how long I’ve had this old stove?”

“How long?”

“Since Ernie and I got married. This house used to be Englisher, and Ernie chose the stove himself and had it delivered, and I stood right where you’re standing now and watched the men install it.”

“How long were you married?”

“Forty-three years.”

“Do you miss him still?”

“Every day.” Belinda sighed. “But it’s easier now. It’s not fresh grief. I was sixty when he passed.”

“Do you ever think of getting married again?” Emaline asked.

Belinda chuckled softly. “At my age? Women my age don’t get married again.”

“Why not?” Emaline asked. “I know of a woman who got married at eighty-two.”

“Amish women don’t get married at my age,” Belinda clarified.

Belinda was throwing up barriers. Some things—like men and loving them—were universal, and Emaline would not be convinced otherwise.

“What makes us so different?” Emaline asked. “Amish, English... We’re more alike than you might think. We both say we’re fine when we aren’t.”

Belinda’s cheeks pinked. Her stirring got faster, and for a moment, she just stood there mixing almost fast enough to whip cream, and then she stopped. “You heard, then?”

“I did. I’m sorry.

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