They arrived at Amos’s house for the two o’clock meal. Sarah had outdone herself, and though the family had grown by two, they all still managed to fit around the table.

  Sarah, Eunice and Amos.

  Becca and Gideon and their new infant, Mary.

  Bethany and Aaron and Lydia.

  Ada.

  How was it that he had the privilege of being a part of this family? And if he asked Ada to marry him, and she said no, would it forever ruin this feeling of unity? He didn’t think he could bear that. He and Aaron had spent their entire lives alone. He had no desire to go back to that way of living—of existing.

  He tried to focus on the delicious food and the banter going around the table, but he simply couldn’t. His palms had begun to sweat and his right leg was jiggling. He heard, and didn’t hear, the conversations around him.

  It was apparently tradition in the Yoder household for the men to clean up after the Christmas meal. Amos shooed the women out of the room.

  “I’ll wash,” Gideon declared.

  “And I’ll dry.” Aaron picked up a towel and slung it over his shoulder.

  Amos said he’d be in charge of storing the leftovers in the refrigerator.

  “Guess there’s nothing left for me to do,” Ethan joked.

  “Think again.” Gideon tossed a wet dishcloth his way. “Table, counters and stove, please.”

  Ethan had no problem with the idea of working in the kitchen. He and Aaron had done the dishes...even done some of the cooking when they were growing up. His mamm often had her hands full with their dat. Kitchen duty was a natural part of his childhood, and even when he and Aaron had lived alone at the house on Huckleberry Lane, they’d done the dishes together.

  What was new to Ethan was this feeling of camaraderie, of being a part of a group of men, of being a part of a family. Once again, he wondered if he was willing to risk what he had for what he might have. How did someone make that decision?

  It was Amos who stopped the circle of thoughts in his mind. “I was hoping you’d take a walk with me.”

  “Outside? Now?”

  The snow was still coming down, though it wasn’t enough to worry about. The drive home would be safe enough.

  “Let’s go over to the barn.” Amos smiled as he walked into the mudroom and donned his hat, scarf and coat.

  Gideon and Aaron shared a knowing look.

  Ethan lowered his voice and stepped closer to them. “Any words of advice on how to ask...well, you know. You’ve both done it before.”

  “This is the hardest part,” Gideon admitted.

  “Other than actually asking the girl that is.”

  Gideon and Aaron shared a high-five and Ethan rolled his eyes. “You two are no help at all.”

  Amos didn’t waste any time. When they entered the barn, he walked directly back to what they all thought of as Ada’s stall. Eunice had let all of the animals out earlier that morning, but now they were hunkered down—enjoying the comparative warmth of the barn. He stared at the odd assortment of misfits Ada had pulled together—two beagles, a Boer goat, a calico cat and its one remaining kitten—the others had been given away—and of course...the blind donkey.

  “Ada, she’s easy to love. She always has been—even during those usually troublesome teen years. Ada’s heart has always been for others.” Amos waved at the animals. “Sometimes that makes for more work, ya?”

  “I imagine it does.”

  “And yet it is part of who she is. I, personally, wouldn’t want to change that. We can all use a little more of Ada’s generous attitude toward life.”

  Ethan realized with a start that this was the moment. Amos was making it easy for him to ask. He needed to find the words. He needed to assure Amos that he, too, appreciated Ada for who and what she was. That’s what he meant to say, but instead, what came out was another confession about his childhood.

  “I suppose that Aaron and I grew up having to be the adults in the household. My dat wasn’t able to, not really. And my mamm was often overwhelmed with caring for him. That left me to take care of my bruder. It might have...” Why did this feel like a confession? Why did his past always feel like a weight threatening to drag him down? “It might have caused me to be a bit cynical, a bit too careful.”

  Amos nodded, as if he understood, and maybe he did.

  “But Ada...with Ada, I’ve learned how to smile again. I’ve learned how to feel joy and how to embrace the present moment. I’m a little stubborn, so it took a while to put down my worrying, but it gets easier each day.” He cleared his throat and turned to Amos. “I’d like to marry Ada. I’d like to have your blessing. I love her, and I think she loves me.”

  Amos smiled broadly then pulled Ethan into a hug.

  Ethan felt in that moment what it would be like to have a father...one who could offer advice and a helping hand. Someone who was willing to listen. Someone who would be there in the years to come to guide him and Ada.

  Amos Yoder wouldn’t replace Ethan’s father. But he might provide a balance that Ethan had always longed for.

  Now the only question was whether Ada would say yes.

  * * *

  Christmas at her dat’s house was wunderbaar, but Ada realized that it felt gut to be back in the house on Huckleberry Lane. Bethany declared it a perfect Christmas. They all had a cup of spiced cider and a piece of Sarah’s cinnamon cake. The snowfall had increased and now the world outside the window felt blanketed in a pure white blessing.

  “We’re snug as a pup in a rug,” Ada declared.

  Bethany smiled at Aaron. Aaron smiled at Ethan, and Ethan smiled at Ada. Gut. Everyone was happy.

  Baby Lydia lay in the crook of Ethan’s arm. Ada thought she could watch him hold that baby for hours. “You’re a natural, ya?”

  “Natural what?”

  “Onkel.”

  “Oh. I suppose I am.”

  Suddenly the scent of coffee cake, apple cider and pine boughs was overwhelmed by another scent.

  “Whoa.” Ethan held the baby up and away from him.

  “I believe it’s my turn.” Aaron gazed at his doschder as he took her into his arms. “The smell is terrible for sure, but the smile on her face after she’s had a fresh diaper makes up for it.”

  Lydia stared up at her dat and then began to wail.

  “We’re going. We’re going.”

  Bethany stood and took her cup and saucer to the sink. “It’s been a really nice day, but this mamm is ready for bed.” She squeezed Ethan’s hand, kissed Ada’s cheek, and headed off to the bedroom where they could hear Aaron humming a tune as he changed Lydia’s diaper.

  “Are you tired too?” Ethan asked.

  “Not so much. Want to play checkers?”

  “How about we just sit in the living room? I’ll stoke up the fire and you can hum Christmas tunes to me.”

  That made her laugh. Since when had he liked her humming? She seemed to remember him telling her it was off-key and too loud. That had only been a few weeks ago, but it seemed much longer. They seemed like different people now.

  Ada sat on the couch with Ethan—not exactly next to him, more like she was on one end and he was on the other. Should she scoot over beside him? She wasn’t sure that he wanted that. Did he want that? Then he slid over, put his arm across the back of the couch and pulled her toward him.

  “Are you okay?” she asked.

  “Oh, ya. Tip-top shape.”

  “No headaches?”

  “Nope.”

  “And you’ll tell me if you start feeling under the snowstorm?”

  He grinned broadly and reached for her hand. “I would, and I will.”

  She snuggled in next to him. “This has been the best Christmas that I can remember.”

  “Has it now?”

  “Yes.”

  “Even in this crowded old farmhouse?”

  “Especially in this crowded old farmhouse. Don’t get me wrong. I enjoyed the dinner at my dat’s. Exchanging presents was fun. It was nice to all be together again, but this...this feels even better.”

  And then Ada remembered that she’d be moving out in a week. Bethany wouldn’t need her anymore. Baby Lydia was doing fine. It was time. The only problem was that moving back home—it didn’t feel like home to her anymore. This place, this small in-need-of-repair house on Huckleberry Lane felt like home. It was where she wanted to live, where she wanted to raise her children, where she wanted to grow old.

  “Whatcha thinking about?” Ethan asked.

  She sighed and almost tucked away her feelings, but what good had that ever done her? Keeping her worries and fears inside only caused them to become tangled and confusing. Best to get things off her heart when she had the chance, and here was her chance. “I was thinking that I’m not looking forward to moving home.”

  “You’re not?” His voice had grown low and husky.

  Should she say it? Should she admit that she wanted to stay here with Beth and Aaron and baby Lydia? That she wanted to stay here with Ethan? Expressing your emotions was one thing, but if she wasn’t careful—and she fully understood that sometimes her mouth got ahead of her brain—she’d be proposing to Ethan.

  Her heart beat faster and her palms began to sweat.

  Should she propose to Ethan?

  Could she?

  “I loved my Christmas present,” he said.

  “Ya? Beth helped me with the knitting,” Ada confessed. “I wanted to add nice lines of pink and orange through the gray, but she insisted that men preferred something more subdued.”

  “The hat and scarf are perfect.” He picked up her hand and kissed it.

  She liked that.

  She liked it when Ethan kissed her—so there! Ha! She wanted to shout it to the world.

  “You might have noticed that I didn’t give you a gift.”

  “Hmm.” She tapped a finger against her lips. “Now that you mention it...”

  He stood, walked over to the fireplace hearth and opened a small box placed off to one side. She’d dusted that box every time she’d cleaned this room, which had been a lot of times. She’d never looked inside it though. That had seemed like overstepping.

  “This box was my mamm’s. She’d put family letters in it, and then at night she’d pull them out and we’d read...or reread...them.” He pulled out a sheet of paper and sat beside her. It had been folded in thirds, as if it were ready for an envelope. On the outside, he had written in his perfect penmanship a single word. Ada.

  “You wrote me a letter?”

  “Something like that.”

  “And this is my Christmas present?”

  “It is if you want it to be.”

  “Sounds mysterious.” She slowly unfolded the top of the sheet of paper. What she found covering the top third of the paper was a very detailed drawing of Ethan’s barn. She could tell it was Ethan’s barn because he’d drawn a stick horse out to the side and written above it “Misty.”

  “Hmm.”

  “Finish opening it.”

  Her heart was thumping and her palms were sweating again. She wondered why. After all, it was simply a drawing and, if she were honest, not a very good one. Ethan’s penmanship was much better than his drawing ability. She did not point that out. She unfolded the bottom third and then her voice caught in her throat and tears sprang to her eyes.

  She ran the tips of her fingers across what he had drawn there, stared at it, started to speak and then stopped. She ran her fingers over it again. Had anything ever looked more beautiful to her? Maybe baby Lydia’s face. Or Mary’s smile. Maybe Ethan. People were more beautiful than this drawing, but things? There wasn’t a single thing in Shipshewana or beyond that could bring her more joy than what he’d drawn there.

  She carefully placed the sheet of paper on the coffee table and threw herself into his arms.

  “Whoa. Does this mean you like it?”

  “I love it.” She pulled away from him, leaned forward and studied the drawing again.

  Ethan picked up the sheet, sat back, and she relaxed in the circle of his arm.

  “We’ll expand it this way, on the side that is closest to the backyard. That way you can keep an eye on your animals while you’re doing other things.”

  “I love the sign.”

  “Already carved it, but I left it in the barn. Didn’t think it would fit in the house.” Across what she supposed was a piece of wood were the words “Ada’s Backyard Barnyard.”

  Ethan set aside the paper then scooted back enough to be able to look her in the eyes. “Will you marry me, Ada? I love you. I’m lost without you. Somehow you always know what to say to brighten my day. You’re caring and gut and—”

  Ada couldn’t wait any longer. She shushed him with a kiss.

  He ran a finger up and down her face then again clasped her hand. “You haven’t answered me.”

  “I haven’t?”

  “Nein.”

  “My answer is yes, Ethan King. Yes, I will marry you. We’ll be as happy as two pears in a pod.”

  He put his arm around her and once again pulled her close. “Two peas in a pod.” He kissed the top of her head.

  “But we’ll be more than two.”

  “Indeed.”

  “Beth and Aaron, baby Lydia, you, me and...” She pulled away, smiled up at him again. “And maybe more bopplin.”

  “I expect so.”

  “It’ll be a full house—a gut house.”

  “I’m already planning the expansion.”

  Epilogue

  They married at the house on Huckleberry Lane.

  They would, of course, be living with Bethany and Aaron. By October of the next year, the house had been expanded to add two more bedrooms. The two original bedrooms would serve as a nursery for Bethany and another nursery for Ada, when and if she needed one.

  The two new bedrooms were larger, with big picture windows that looked out over the fields ripe with harvest. It had been a gut year to be a farmer. Aaron had stopped working at the auction house and farmed full-time. Ada split her time between volunteering with the SPCA and raising her collection of misfit animals, which now included a llama and an emu.

  Waiting ten months to marry had been difficult, but Ada was grateful for the time. She’d learned to be at ease with the woman she was becoming, to be confident in herself and to be confident in Ethan’s love for her.

  The two couples would share their joys and disappointments together.

  They would raise their families together.

  The four of them—five counting baby Lydia—were a family. A few miles away was the rest of their family—ready to lend an ear, or to provide a helping hand, or to give a hug. Ada knew that change was still happening in the Yoder household. She didn’t know who, if anyone, would marry next—Sarah, Eunice or maybe their dat? That thought brought a smile to her face. As far as she knew, he’d never dated, but maybe he would...maybe as he saw his doschdern embracing their own lives, he’d be ready.

  Her nieces were now ten months old. Mary was still crawling, but Lydia was trying to walk. The most she could do at the moment was let go of a piece of furniture, stand there wobbling on her legs with her arms held out wide for balance, and then plop on the ground with a smile.

  Everyone clapped.

  Everyone always clapped.

  And then it was time for Ada and Ethan to sit alone with Ezekiel. One by one, her family kissed her and shook Ethan’s hand, then they walked outside to join the guests. The sound of their singing the old hymns provided a background of tradition and community and faith for this important step they were taking.

  She and Ethan sat on the couch—the same couch where Ethan had first told her he loved her. She treasured everything about this room and this home and this man sitting beside her.

  “Today is a gut day, ya?” Ezekiel sat in the chair across from them, smiled and then picked up the worn Bible he often carried with him. “You two are stepping into a new phase of your life. Today is a gut day, and many days in your future will be the same. Some will be hard, though, and it’s important that you know where to look for help.”

  Ada glanced toward Ethan at the exact same moment that he stole a look at her, and she saw the same answer in his eyes that she had been thinking. They had already been through hard days. They’d clung to each other during those long nights and exhausting weeks, and if necessary, she believed they would again.

  “The apostle Paul wrote about this in his letter to the Corinthians, except he called it charity instead of love. Charity suffers long and is kind.” He ran his fingers over the cover of the Bible, still not opening it. “There’s more in that thirteenth chapter of the book of Corinthians, and I encourage you both to become very familiar with those words and Paul’s wisdom. It seems to me that the crux of what you’re entering into today is there—to suffer long and to be kind. If we can be kind during the difficult times, surely we can be kind in the gut times. Ya?”

  Ada nodded her head and felt more than saw Ethan do the same.

  “Let’s pray together.”

  Ten minutes later, they were outside. As they walked to the front of the group of friends and family, Ada wondered how she’d be able to sit through the sermon. Somehow she managed, though her mind did wander occasionally to the guests, the weather, even her new pumpkin-colored dress—the new dress she had foregone so that she could adopt the beagle puppies. That seemed like a million years ago.

  Finally, it was time for them to stand with Ezekiel and repeat their vows. Ada was both there and not there. Her heart was keenly aware of how handsome Ethan looked, his tender expression, her family sitting only a few feet away, her neighbors and friends, and even her menagerie of animals. Her heart noted and treasured all of these things.

 

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