In these heartwarming, faith-affirming stories, three Amish families face the joys, and challenges, of the holidays—with fruitful results . . . THE CHRISTMAS NOT-WISH New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author Shelley Shepard Gray When the foster parents they’ve cautiously grown to love discover they’re expecting, orphaned Roy and Jemima Fisher, ages six and seven, are secretly devastated by the certainty they’ll be given up. With Christmas around the corner, their only wish is for new foster parents as nice as Mr. and Mrs. Kurtz. Meanwhile, the Kurtzes have wishes of their own—and with faith, they all may be gifted with twice the blessings . . . NEW BEGINNINGS * Rachel J. Good Still grieving the loss of her husband and unborn baby in an accident several months ago, Elizabeth Yoder is oblivious to her neighbor Luke Bontrager’s deepening affection for her. But while she bleakly faces Christmas alone, it’s Luke who reminds her it’s the season for giving. And when Elizabeth donates her handmade baby clothes to New Beginnings, a home for teen moms, she soon finds her gifts repaid beyond measure, with Luke’s love—and new beginnings of their own . . . TWINS TIMES TWO * Loree Lough Spirited twins Priscilla and Leora Schwietert have each been blessed with mischievous twins of their own—all born on Christmas. Nearing their fourteenth birthdays, their sons have asked for horses. Their parents can fulfill their wish—but worry they’ll be rewarding unruly behavior. The solution: A contract requiring hard work and an anonymous gift for someone in need. After thoughtful prayer, the boys surprise their parents—as each husband and wife rediscovers their joy in Christmas and their love for each other. . .
Release date:
September 29, 2020
Publisher:
Kensington Books
Print pages:
273
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“What do you think about them?” Roy asked Jemima as he wandered into her room without knocking.
Usually Jemima would have been annoyed with her little brother for disturbing her, but she wasn’t asleep, either. An hour earlier, each of them had been tucked into their own beds in their own rooms by Elizabeth Anne and Will Kurtz, their newest set of foster parents.
After the children debated for a couple of seconds about whether they should risk getting E.A. and Will mad, Jemima motioned Roy to come sit beside her on the bed. She would never tell Roy, but right now, she thought she needed him as much as he needed her.
“I don’t know,” she replied at last. “I guess they seem nice.”
Roy lifted his right thumb to suck, then tucked it under his leg so he wouldn’t be tempted. “They’re nicer than Dan and Shirl.”
“Anyone would be nicer than them,” Jemima said. They’d only lasted at Dan and Shirl Miller’s house for five weeks. Jemima personally had thought they’d been there five weeks too long. Dan and Shirl had seemed nice enough when the social worker was there, but when she was gone, Dan’s and Shirl’s smiles disappeared. They’d given Jemima and her little brother lots of chores, yelled at Roy every time he forgot that he wasn’t supposed to suck his thumb, and weren’t even very nice at Thanksgiving dinner. Shirl had gotten really mad at Jemima when she’d revealed that she wasn’t thankful to be at the Millers’ house on Thanksgiving Day.
So mad that Jemima had been sent to her room without any food . . . and when Roy had started crying and sucking his thumb, he’d been sent from the table, too. He’d thrown himself on the twin bed next to her and bawled. Figuring he had every right to cry, she’d curled up on her own bed in a ball and tried to pretend she was anywhere else.
Yes, it had been a really bad night. But even though her stomach had been rumbling with hunger, she hadn’t regretted her honesty.
After all, how could she have uttered such a bold lie? She wasn’t thankful to be at the Miller house. Wasn’t thankful to be there at all. She missed her own parents and her old house and the turkey that her father had always hunted and their mother had always complained about plucking. She missed her own room and their life in the woods and the way that their mamm and daed did things.
She had not been grateful to have to share a room with Roy. She was not grateful to always be yelled at. She really hadn’t been grateful when she’d eyed the watery-looking chicken, boxed mashed potatoes, and canned green beans that had been their Thanksgiving supper.
When Melanie, their social worker, stopped by the next morning, Jemima had told her everything. Melanie had hugged her tight and asked her to hold on just a little bit longer, because she was working hard to find them someplace better.
It had taken another three weeks, but now here they were at the Kurtzes’ house. She was very thankful for the move, but she’d learned over the last couple of months not to expect too much . . . or to wish for things that probably would never happen.
All that did was make her feel worse.
“Are you going to call Elizabeth Anne E.A. or Mrs. Kurtz?” Roy asked, bringing her back to the present.
“I’m going to call her Mrs. Kurtz.”
Roy’s eyes got big. “Really?”
“I didn’t like having to call Mr. and Mrs. Miller Dan and Shirl. They had friendly names, but they weren’t friendly people.”
“They were mean.”
“All they cared about were the checks they got for watching us.” She lowered her voice. “Plus, Shirl told me that she was going to put us with a babysitter on Christmas Day because they’d gotten invited to Dan’s brother’s house. That wasn’t nice.”
“But E.A. and Will don’t seem like that.”
“We don’t really know them yet, Roy. They could act different in the morning. Some people do.”
His thin shoulders slumped. “Jah. I guess you’re right.”
“I know I am,” she replied. “It won’t do us any good to get attached to E.—I mean, Mrs. and Mr. Kurtz. They might not even keep us until New Year’s Day.”
Roy’s expression turned even more troubled. “I miss Mamm and Daed. How come they had to die?”
“Everyone said that Got wanted them early.” She shrugged. The explanation didn’t sound very comforting, but she guessed it was something they were supposed to be happy about. But even if the Lord had wanted their parents to go to heaven early, Jemima didn’t think being hit by a big truck was a very nice way to die. No one wanted to hear her say that, though.
“Roy?” E.A.’s voice sounded worried. “Roy, where are . . . oh. There you are,” she said as she peeked into Jemima’s bedroom. “Is everything all right?”
Roy scrambled to his feet. “Jah. I’m sorry I got out of bed. I won’t do it again.”
E.A.’s expression softened. “Oh, honey. You didn’t do anything wrong. You know, I didn’t even ask if you two were used to sharing a room. Are you scared?”
Jemima spoke up before her brother could say a word. “We like having our own rooms. We’re used to that.”
“Jah,” Roy replied, scooting toward the door. “I like my own bedroom. Danke.” He darted out of her room as if he was afraid E.A. was going to change her mind.
Jemima felt her stomach twist into knots as E.A. turned to watch Roy walk down the hall. “He usually listens and stays in bed.”
E.A. turned back to her. “I’m not upset, Jemima. I had a feeling that your first night here might be difficult. That’s why I came upstairs to check on you.”
“Oh.”
“Are you all right? Do you need anything?”
“Nee. I am fine.” She sank against her pillows and pulled the flannel sheet up higher on her chest. “I’m going to go to sleep soon.”
“Ah. Well, I’ll be on my way, then. Sweet dreams, Jemima.”
“You too. I mean, gut naucht, Mrs. Kurtz.”
Some of E.A.’s smile dimmed. “Gut naucht to you as well, Jemima. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Jemima sat perfectly still as she listened to her new foster mother walk down the hall, pause for a moment, then slowly descend the staircase. Only then did Jemima scoot farther into bed.
After turning off her bedside flashlight, Jemima closed her eyes and tried not to worry.
But, like always, attempting not to worry was as hard as wishing for sleep to come. At least she’d given up wishing for things that could never be, though.
Now she was rarely disappointed with how things turned out.
“Is everything all right?” Will asked the moment E.A. walked inside their bedroom. “Are they scared? Do they need anything?”
E.A. carefully closed the door behind her before tossing her robe on the floor and crawling back into bed. “I don’t know.” And that was the truth. She had no idea how Jemima and Roy were feeling.
Looking even more concerned, Will sat up and faced her. “Well, what happened? You were in there for a while.”
“I found Roy in Jemima’s room. He was sitting on the edge of her bed and they were whispering. But the moment I showed up, he jumped to his feet and promised he wouldn’t get out of bed again. Next thing I knew, he was scurrying back to his room.” Hating how scared he’d looked—and how resigned Jemima had been—E.A. released a ragged sigh. “I think that boy actually thought I was going to get mad at him. Can you believe it? He thought I was going to get mad at him for talking to his sister. It makes me want to cry.”
“They’ve been through a lot, E.A. You’re still a stranger, remember?”
“I haven’t forgotten. I believe Melanie said that we’re the sixth foster family they’ve been with since their parents died three years ago.”
“She also said that the couple they were with before wasn’t a good fit and that the kinner had been especially unhappy there.”
“That doesn’t make me feel any better. If anything, I feel worse—like we should have filled out the paperwork months ago.”
“You can’t think that way. Their rough time of it isn’t our fault, darling. You can’t take on all their burdens, and most especially not their past.”
She looked into his dark brown eyes and smiled. Will was truly one of the kindest people she knew. He’d always been that way, even back when they were children. What she hadn’t known, however, was that he could be romantic, too. He’d started to call her darling when they were engaged, and though they’d been married over a year and were no longer newlyweds, every time he murmured the endearment her heart pitter-pattered a little faster.
“I know you are right, Will. It’s just hard. I want them to be happy.”
“They will be. Or at the very least, we’ll try to help them to be happy.”
“Even though they just got here and Melanie said for us to take our time getting to know each other, I already know I want more than that.” She reached for his hand. “Will, I want Roy and Jemima to be with us forever.”
“I’m taken with them, too. I knew it the moment Melanie introduced us to them two weeks ago and Roy asked if I liked pumpkin pie.”
E.A. giggled. “Just as I was about to say that I’d make him one, he wrinkled his nose and said he thought it was yucky.”
“All while Jemima was trying to get him to hush.” The lines around his eyes deepened with his smile. “Elizabeth Anne, not to sound too full of myself or anything, but I think they’re going to be mighty happy with us, too.”
“Do you really think so?”
He nodded. “How can they not be? We already are starting to love them.” He ran his thumb over her knuckles. “I bet it will just take them a while to get settled.”
“I hope so.”
“Come now, try to stay positive, jah?”
Against her will, her eyes filled up with tears. “Christmas is just around the corner. I wish those kids were only worrying about presents they wanted and how much fruitcake to eat.”
Will grinned. “First, nobody sits around dreaming of fruitcake. Secondly, that’s a wonderful idea. We can ask them to write a Christmas list. That will give them something positive to think about.”
“I’ll bring that up tomorrow.”
“Gut.” He ran a hand down her hair. “Does that mean you’ll stop crying now?”
“Yes. I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
“I think you do, Elizabeth,” he said gently. “Ain’t so?”
Feeling her cheeks heat, she nodded. Less than a week ago—just days before Roy and Jemima were scheduled to arrive—they’d gotten the biggest surprise. They were expecting a baby.
When E.A. had shared her shock, the midwife had simply raised her eyebrows. “A smart girl like you can sure be foolish,” she’d chided. “I would have thought you’d have figured out how babes were made.”
Yes, she had known. But she’d also learned years ago that the chances of her becoming pregnant were very slim. This pregnancy was truly a miracle, but it was also a closely guarded secret. She and Will wanted to wait a few weeks before they shared the news. Not just to hold their secret tight for a bit before it was all of their friends’ and families’ news as well . . . but for the sake of Jemima and Roy.
Now all of their plans were up in the air.
“Have you thought any more about what we discussed?” Will asked.
E.A. nodded. “I’ve thought about it, but it doesn’t feel right. We brought the children here with the intention of adopting them.”
“I know we did. But the timing might not be the best. Roy and Jemima need two parents to give them all their attention. They’ve already been through so much. How can we give them what they need if we have a newborn?”
“Our babe won’t be born for months and months. We don’t need to make this decision now.”
“I agree, but as soon as Christmas is over, we’ll need to decide.”
“That’s in two weeks, Will.”
He sighed in the dark. “Elizabeth Anne, I’m not trying to hurt your feelings or bring pain into those kinner’s lives. But one of us has to be tough. I can’t think that it will be easier on those children to wait to tell them that we can’t adopt them.”
“If that’s what we decide.”
“Yes, of course. If we decide that.” He ran a hand down her hair again. “Just keep an open mind, okay? At the very least, we’ll be giving them a wonderful Christmas.”
“At least there’s that.” She felt her eyes fill with tears again.
Will wrapped his arms around her. “Don’t cry. Everything will work out the way it’s supposed to. God has a plan, yes?”
“Jah,” she whispered. But as the minutes passed and she eventually heard Will’s deep, even breathing, E.A. couldn’t help but think of everything the children had already been through.
How did God have a plan that included orphaning two small children? No matter how hard she tried to wrap her mind around that, it didn’t make much sense.
At last, she fell into a restless sleep, finally praying that the Lord would help her be strong enough to do the “right” thing, whatever that might be.
Ten days before Christmas
Jemima looked at the many sheets of paper, crayons, and colored pencils that E.A. had set out for her and Roy on the kitchen table. “Are you sure you want me and Roy to help you?” she asked.
E.A., who had been stenciling letters of the alphabet on each page, put her pencil down. “Of course, dear. It’s going to be our family’s Christmas present and you two are part of the family.” Her smile wobbled. “I mean, you are right now.”
Right now. That didn’t sound very permanent. A new sense of doom settled in Jemima’s chest, making it hard to breathe. Over the last few days, she and Roy had felt a little bit like they had woken up in a dream.
Everything that had been so awful and wrong at the Millers’ was so right with Mr. and Mrs. Kurtz. E.A. and Will wanted to be with them and never got mad, even when Roy sucked his thumb or when Jemima accidentally knocked over her milk on the table.
Will always greeted them after he kissed E.A. hello after work. No matter how tired he seemed, he always sat down beside them and asked about their days . . . and their nights when he took the night shift.
And then there was the food! It was so good and there was lots of it. Even though it felt wrong to compare, Jemima had to admit that even their real mother hadn’t cooked as well as Elizabeth Anne.
“Jem,” Roy whispered. “You’re daydreaming again.”
Oh! She certainly had been! Right there at the kitchen table. “I’m sorry.” She darted a quick look of apology at her brother before answering. “I mean, I’m not a very good artist.”
“I’m not either,” Roy said quickly. “Sometimes I don’t color in the lines.”
“But see? These pages are blank. That means anything you want to write on each page or color is the right thing to do.”
“All I can think for ‘C’ is candy,” Roy said.
“Or camels,” Jemima said quickly. “The Wise Men rode on camels to see baby Jesus.”
“But I like peppermint candy canes,” Roy said.
But instead of saying that Jemima’s was better, because it was better to think about Jesus instead of candy, E.A. frowned. “Boy, those are two gut things for our letter ‘C,’ aren’t they? Hmm. Oh, how about we write: ‘ “C” is for Christmas candy and a camel caravan.’ If the Wise Men had candy canes, they would have surely brought them for Jesus on this birthday.”
Roy’s eyes got big. Jemima couldn’t help but gape as well. “You want to write that?”
“Why not? It uses both of your ideas.” She got out a black marker and carefully printed out the sentence next to the stenciled letter “C.” When she was done, she smiled. “What do you think?”
Roy said, “I want to draw a camel carrying a candy cane in its mouth.”
E.A. giggled. “That sounds splendid, Roy.” She slid the paper over to him. “Well, children, look at that! We already have one of our pages done.”
“Only twenty-five more letters to go,” Jemima said.
E.A. giggled again. “You remind me of my friend Harley, Jemima. Harley is nothing if not a realist.”
“Is that bad?”
“Oh, no. A realist is simply someone who dwells on things they can see and prove. They aren’t always real comfortable when it comes to considering fanciful things.”
“Does that mean ‘made up’?”
“Jah. Or things that might seem like just a wish.”
“Oh.”
E.A. stood up and walked to the stove. While Roy started drawing camels that really only looked like lumpy dogs, Jemima reached for the “W” page.
“Do you have a special wish, Mrs. Kurtz?”
“I have lots of wishes, but for Christmas, my wish is that I am able to finish sewing all my projects on time. And for snow.”
“I like snow, too,” Roy said as he picked up a red crayon.
“Do you have a special Christmas wish, Jemima?” E.A. asked as she poured chocolate powder into the milk she’d been heating on the stove. “Is there something special that you would love to receive on Christmas morning?”
“Nee,” Jemima said.
“Really? Not even a new dress or maybe a stuffed animal or a doll?”
“My mamm gave me a dalli before she died,” Jemima said before she realized what she’d shared. She slapped a hand over her lips. “I’m sorry. I meant, nee, Mrs. Kurtz. I don’t have any wishes for Christmas.”
E.A. was quiet as she pulled out a container from one of the cabinets, then brought over three mugs of hot chocolate. It was the fanciest hot chocolate Jemima had ever seen. In the center of each mug was a giant marshmallow and on top of the marshmallow was a sprinkling of red and green candy sprinkles.
“Wow!” Roy said.
“I’ve never seen marshmallows like this,” Jemima added.
“That’s because I make them.” E.A. chuckled softly. “I’m afraid I’m not the cook that my friend Kendra is. She can make beautiful marshmallows. Mine taste okay, but they’re on the lumpy side, I’m afraid.”
“They’re real gut,” Roy said when he put his mug down. He smiled, showing off a marshmallow mustache.
After handing Roy a napkin, E.A. shuffled through the papers and pulled out the “M.” “How about this?” she asked as she picked up the marker. “‘“M” is for marshmallow mustaches’?”
This time Jemima couldn’t resist giggling, too. “Jah, Mrs. Kurtz. That’s a good one.”
As she wrote, E.A. gestured toward the “W” page in front of her. “What have you decided for ‘W’?”
“ ‘ “W” is for Wish and for White Christmas’?” She held her breath.
“I think that is a mighty good sentence, dear.” She handed over the pen. “I’ll write it down on a scratch piece of paper; then you can write the official sentence. Okay?”
“Okay,” Jemima said. She would never tell Mrs. Kurtz that her secret sentence was “W” is for wonderful parents who make wishes. That one she was going to keep for herself. As another one of her not-wishes.
Eight days before Christmas
“I’m not so sure about this,” Roy whispered to Will as they climbed out of John Byler’s truck. Will, John, and their friend Harley were taking Roy and Jemima turkey hunting.
Bending down to pick up his shotgun and backpack, Will fought back a smile. He didn’t want the little guy to think he was making light of his concern, but boy, it was hard to keep his happiness in check. This was the first time Roy had spoken to him without coaxing.
After checking to make sure that Jemima was being occupied by Harley—he was helping her adjust her backpack—Will rested his shotgun on a knee. “What makes you nervous? The woods, the hunting, or being with me, Harley and John, and your sister?”
Roy pondered that for a few seconds before replying. “All of it.”
“I understand. It’s new with new friends, jah?”
Roy simply stared at him.
And all the unspoken words slammed into his heart. Roy didn’t consider any of the men—not even Will—a friend.
“All I can offer is my opinion, Roy. And that is that it’s a good thing to try something new from time to time. You won’t know if you like a stranger if you don’t meet them. You also won’t know if you like something if you never try it at least once.”
John walked to their side. “Roy, I know you and Jemima have already had your fair share of new things this year, but I promise that there isn’t a one of us who would knowingly put you in danger or make you sad. Try to trust us, if you can.”
“But you aren’t Amish.”
“Nee, I am not. But I used to be. And more important than that, I have known Will and Harley, here, since we were younger than you, Roy.”
Roy looked up at Will. “Really?”
“Really. Mei mamm used to watch John and Harley in the summers from time to time. E.A., too.”
This time it was Jemima who looked surprised. “I didn’t know that.”
“Eight of us were fast friends.”
“Eight of you?”
“That’s right. We took our friendship seriously, too. In fact, all of us but one are still here in Walnut Creek.”
“What happened to the other one?”
“He died.”
“You’ve known someone who died, too?”
“Jah. You aren’t alone, Roy.”
Roy took a deep breath. “All right.”
“All right then.” Will grinned. “Let’s go find ourselves a turkey for Christmas.”
“I’m not sure how to find turkeys,” Jemima said. “What should we do?”
Harley answered that one. “You’re gonna have to stay quiet, walk carefully, and try to think like a turkey.”
Her lips curved up. “We’re people. We can’t think like fayl.”
“Sure we can. All you have to do is look around and think about where you would want to perch.”
Jemima giggled before slapping her hand over her lips. “Sorry.”
“That’s all right, girl. You sounded a bit like a giggling turkey. Maybe they’ll think you’re a friend.”
Jemima giggled harder, followed by Roy, before he, too, slapped a hand over his mouth.
And so. . .
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