Christmas at Promise Lodge by Charlotte Hubbard

Author:Charlotte Hubbard [Hubbard, Charlotte]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington
Published: 2016-08-12T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seventeen

After he finished the milking early on Sunday morning, Roman headed down the snow-packed road, back to Amos’s place. The rising sun made tiny diamonds sparkle on the five inches of snow that had fallen in the night, adding a layer of crisp freshness to the lawns and hillsides of Promise Lodge. As Roman passed his new house, he sighed. Lester had installed his windows and siding, the other men had put in his kitchen appliances, and the girls had painted all of his rooms, so the place was finished enough to live in. Roman really wanted to settle into his house, but he also understood that Amos needed help—assistance he was either too proud or too depressed to ask for—so he planned to stay in the preacher’s spare bedroom until Amos’s health improved.

“Gut morning, Amos! You up yet?” Roman called out as he entered the front room. In the kitchen, he filled the percolator with water and coffee and put it on the stove. When Roman paused in the doorway of the dark bedroom, he saw that the preacher had maneuvered himself out of bed and into his wheelchair, but he was still in his long johns.

“No church today,” Roman pointed out, “so what’re you going to wear? It’s a gut day for a heavy shirt, or maybe a sweater, chilly as it is.”

“It’ll take a lot more than a shirt and sweater to make me feel warm again,” Amos groused. “What’s clean? That’ll make the decision easy for me, won’t it?”

Roman bit back a remark about the preacher’s irritable mood, because pointing it out would only make Amos grouchier. “Do you want me to do your laundry tomorrow?” he asked as he went to the nearly empty closet. “I’ve heard Beulah, Christine, and Mamm have offered to wash your clothes, but you’ve not allowed them to.”

“Hate to be a bother.”

Roman shrugged, choosing a flannel shirt of deep green. “So run the washer from your wheelchair. Could you do that?”

Amos let out a humorless laugh. “I’m not supposed to leave this cave, remember? The doctor has turned me into a mole, and I’ll soon be as white as an albino from lack of sunlight.”

“So I’ll close the curtains in the rest of your house,” Roman challenged. “The doctor didn’t limit you to staying in one room. You’re only to avoid bright light.”

Amos glared at him. “What gut would that do? It’s not like I can reach the stove—”

“Fine. Put this on.” Roman took the shirt from its hanger, deciding it was time for a change of topic. “I’ve got a favor to ask, Amos. Would it be all right if I cleaned up your sleigh and took it out for a spin? We’ve got enough snow on the ground for some nice riding now.”

“We do?” Amos murmured ruefully. “I—I really feel out of touch. What day is it?”

“Sunday, the twenty-second of November.”

“Oh.” Amos put the shirt on over the long johns he’d slept in, shaking his head. “I missed your mamm’s birthday yesterday .

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