Emma Miller - The Christmas Courtship

Talking to the dogs, Joshua closed the door behind Phoebe with his foot. Standing alone in the mudroom, she removed her cloak and black bonnet, found a free hook to hang them on and, travel bag in hand, entered the large but cozy kitchen.

“Goodness, this is hot. Mam, I think we need new pot holders!” a pretty strawberry blonde hollered from the far side of the room, startling Phoebe. Holding an enormous pie in her hands, she tried to close an oven door with her foot.

“I’ll get it.” Phoebe dropped her bag and hurried to help.

“Thank you,” the young woman said, gingerly setting the pie down on a sideboard. She shook her hands, still holding on to the pot holders. “I’ve been telling Mam for weeks that these were worn-out. Someone is going to get burned one of these days.” She grinned. “You must be Phoebe.”

Phoebe nodded.

“I’m Tarragon. Call me Tara.” She dropped the pot holders on the counter and walked to a massive farmhouse sink. “You’re my mother’s cousin.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Which I guess makes us cousins, too.”

Tara smiled again, and Phoebe couldn’t help but smile back. Tara was cute as a button, with green eyes and a small, upturned nose. She was wearing a calf-length pink dress and white apron, with a green scarf covering her hair and tied at the back of her neck. Wispy red tendrils peeked out from the scarf around her ears. On her feet, she wore a pair of denim blue sneakers with athletic socks. She looked like a fluttering little songbird in the bright airy kitchen, and Phoebe suddenly felt like an old crow. She was dressed in a black dress, thick black tights and clunky black shoes. She wondered if it was a mistake to think she could ever belong here, make a home here for herself and John-John.

“Ya,” Phoebe managed. “Cousins.”

“Mam!” Tara hollered, startling Phoebe again. No one ever raised their voice in her house. Words were always spoken softly and soberly.

“Cousin Phoebe’s here! Pie’s done!” Tara continued loudly. “The blue pot holders are going in the ragbag!”

“She’s here?” came a voice from down the hall. “Send her in!”

“Mam just had surgery on her foot. Did Joshua tell you? She’s supposed to be keeping it elevated.” Tara rolled her eyes. “That’s not been easy.” She pointed in the direction of the hall. “She’s in the parlor. She was so excited when your mother wrote to her about you coming to stay with us.”

Phoebe heard the back door open and close, and Joshua’s voice. “Jacob’s going to have to start kenneling those dogs or teach them to mind people better.” He walked into the kitchen carrying the bags of groceries. “See you met Tara,” he said to Phoebe.

“ Ya , I was just going into the parlor. To see Rosemary.”

He set the paper bags down on one of the two enormous kitchen tables in the room. “Let me show you the way.”

“It’s just down the hall,” Tara quipped as she crossed the kitchen to dig into the bags. “You get my cereal? And the butter?”

“ Ya , ya , it’s all in the bag.” Joshua told his stepsister as he motioned to Phoebe. “Come on. Come say hello to Rosemary.”

Phoebe followed him down the hall, past a staircase leading to the second floor. At a doorway, he halted. “Here we are,” he said to her. “Rosemary, look who I found at the bus station.”

Phoebe walked hesitantly to the doorway.

“There you are!”

It was her cousin Rosemary, seated on a sofa, her foot encased in a black cloth boot, propped on a stool. “What took you so long? I was beginning to worry.” She opened her arms. “I’d come to you, but this one will have a fit.” She pointed to the man seated beside her on the couch. “Benjamin has made me promise I won’t get up again until supper.”

The burly man with dark hair and a reddish beard rose. Dressed in denim trousers and a long-sleeved blue shirt and suspenders, he wore sheepskin slippers on his short, wide feet. “Now, Rosebud, you know you’re not going to heal properly if you don’t stay off that foot.” He nodded to Phoebe as he walked past her. “ Velcom to our home. Know our door is open to you and yours always.” He met her gaze, something else Phoebe wasn’t used to among elder Amish men. “I think this will be a good place for you.” He gave her a little smile, his dark brown eyes twinkling. “And will you do me a favor?” he said as he walked past her.

“Ya...” His request surprised her. “Of course.”

“Keep my wife on that couch until supper. Her foot won’t heal if she doesn’t rest. There are plenty of able bodies to keep this household going. To care for our little ones.” He slipped his thumbs beneath his suspenders. “And now she has you to help as well, ya ?”

“ Ya ...yes, of course.” A little flustered, Phoebe returned her attention to Rosemary as Benjamin left the parlor.

Joshua smiled at Phoebe, lifting his hand in a little wave, and went with his father.

“He worries too much,” Rosemary insisted, pointing at her husband as he disappeared down the hall. “Come, Phoebe, give me a hug.” She opened her arms wide.

Cousin Rosemary, who had to be in her late forties, could have passed for far younger with her pretty round face and, beneath her white prayer kapp , chestnut hair that didn’t seem to be graying. Phoebe knew Rosemary had to be nearing menopause because she remembered her mother fussing about Rosemary’s advanced age when they’d learned she and her new husband were expecting a baby. Which turned out to be twins. Phoebe hadn’t said anything at the time when they’d heard the news because it was always easier to get along with her mother if she agreed with her, but she’d remembered saying a silent prayer when she’d heard the news, thanking God for His goodness in blessing Rosemary and Benjamin.

Phoebe hesitantly crossed the cozy parlor furnished with two couches and two easy chairs covered in flax-colored duck. To her surprise, there were pretty denim blue-and-green square pillows scattered everywhere. There were oak ladder-back chairs along the walls ready to be pulled forward to make more seating, as well as several slightly mismatched oak end tables. In one corner sat a small, round kitchen table and chairs with a stack of game boxes on top. A checkerboard was set up as if just waiting for two players. Like most Amish homes, along one wall there were doors that likely opened into the living room behind it, making a good-sized room for church services. The parlor was very Amish in the way that it was obviously set up for utilitarian use, but it was different in the way that it was so pretty and cozy with its throw pillows and the cross-stitches framed on the walls. And hanging partially over the doors that opened into the living room was an enormous quilt depicting a scene from the Garden of Eden with trees and plants and beautifully plumed birds.

“ Atch , our Nettie’s quilt,” Rosemary said, seeing Phoebe staring at it. “Beautiful, isn’t it? My daughter has a way with a needle.”

“It’s so beautiful,” Phoebe said softly, leaning down to hug Rosemary. She had intended to give her a quick squeeze, but Rosemary wrapped her arms tightly around Phoebe and she wouldn’t let her go.

“Everything is going to be okay,” Rosemary said quietly in her ear. “Not to worry. God has His plan for you. He has a plan for all of us. We have to be brave enough to be open to it,” she whispered.

Tears sprang to Phoebe’s eyes. She didn’t know if it was her cousin’s kind words, full of hope, or just the feeling of another human being’s touch that overwhelmed her with emotion. There was no hugging in her stepfather’s home. It had been too long since Phoebe had felt someone’s arms around her, and suddenly she felt as if she might break down in tears.