The Amish Cookie Club

Genres: Amish & Mennonite; Christian Romance; General Fiction

Synopsis

Every other Friday, Edna Esh and three of her childhood friends meet to bake sugar cookies for their respective church districts on worship Sunday. It's a time to give to the Plain community—and give support to each other as they share their joys and fears . . .

Edna's friend, Verna Bontrager, has a problem. Her outspoken twenty-year-old daughter, Myrna, has been fired from her job. Again. Myrna's family really needs her to chip in, but she's clearly unsuited to customer service—not to mention that her sharp tongue scares away any boy who might come courting. But Edna has an idea—and his name is Ezekiel Riehl.

A widower with four young children, Ezekiel needs help. His house and his brood are a mess; his demeanor is gruff. It's no surprise Myrna takes an immediate dislike to him. Yet she has no choice but to take on the challenge—and soon she starts to create order out of chaos. In fact, the kids begin to depend on Myrna—and so does Ezekiel. The truth is, she's fallen in love with him. But if he's to prove he's not looking for a marriage of convenience, he'll have to convince her of what's in his heart . . .

Release date: May 28, 2019

Publisher: Zebra Books

Print pages: 400

Sample

The smell of freshly baked cinnamon rolls always reminded Edna Esh of her mother.

Lifting the pan toward her face, Edna shut her eyes and inhaled deeply, enjoying the warm steam that brushed against her cheeks as she savored the scent of freshly ground cinnamon.

In the silence of the moment, she thought back to the days of her youth. Saturdays. Those were the mornings her mother baked cinnamon rolls at her father’s farm outside of Seyberts, Indiana. Farm life was always busy, but, even though all the children were home for the day, Saturday mornings were less chaotic for her mother. No school lunches to prepare, no faces to wash, no children to hurry off to school. With her brood filling the house with laughter, Edna’s mother was always in her glory. Back then, her gift to her children was those gloriously wonderful cinnamon rolls which began every weekend like a tasty note of love.

“I’ll never understand you.” The teasing voice of her husband interrupted the moment. “Baking sweets before your friends visit so you can bake more sweets!”

Opening her eyes, Edna smiled at Elmer. For almost thirty years, he’d been her husband, partner, and—most importantly—her best friend. She watched as he stood in the doorway, kicking off his work boots—one, two . . . each landing with a loud clomp on the mudroom floor—before entering the kitchen. He didn’t seem to notice the clumps of dirt which fell from the soles. Sighing, Edna made a mental note to sweep the floor before her friends arrived.

He had already removed his hat, which had left his salt-and-pepper hair pressed flat against his head. “Seems you have those gals over more for visiting than for baking!” he teased.

“Oh now, Elmer!” Despite the truth to his statement, Edna protested. “You know I like to welcome the girls with something special to nibble on during their visit.”

Elmer shuffled his stockinged feet across the floor and peered into the pan, careful to keep his long beard from touching the baked goods. Like his wife, he, too, breathed in the aroma. “Mmm!” Teasingly, he reached a finger toward the pan. “How about I sample one?”

But Edna was quicker than he was. After twenty-nine years of marriage, she’d anticipated his attempt to taste the frosting on one of the rolls. She swooped in and shifted the pan from his grasp. “I do believe we were both standing in the same room when the doctor told you no sweets, Elmer Esh!” she said as she set it onto a rack near the stove to cool.

“Oh, pssh!” He waved his hand dismissively at her. “What do doctors know about anything anyway?”

Edna laughed, her dark, almond-shaped eyes crinkling into half-moons. She couldn’t help but look at her husband with tenderness. How hard it must be for him to give up sweets! But the doctor’s orders were quite clear: avoid sugar. Perhaps even worse than giving up desserts and treats was that Elmer had been forced to give up sugar in his coffee. While Edna didn’t mind drinking her coffee black, Elmer fussed about that almost as much as he fussed about giving up cookies and pies.

“Well, I sure do think Dr. Graham knows a spell more than you do about your heart!”

Elmer scowled. “Bah!”

“Now don’t you ‘bah’ me,” she scolded playfully.

He turned to the sink and began to wash his hands. “So what’re you girls making today anyway?”

She was surprised that he asked that question. Whenever her friends Mary Ropp, Wilma Schwartz, and Verna Bontrager came over, they always baked the same thing. “Why, cookies, of course!”

Twice a month, the four women gathered to bake different types of cookies for the fellowship meal that followed the Sunday worship service. They had started the tradition when Wilma’s twins, Rachel and Ella Mae, turned sixteen and began their rumschpringe. Wilma had taken quite a turn, falling into a blue mood without her youngest daughters spending their free time at home. An empty house began evolving into an empty heart.

The truth was that none of them had little ones at home anymore. The realization that this phase of motherhood had ended and a new one had begun distressed all of them, but none more so than Wilma.

It was Edna who came up with the idea to meet on the Fridays before church Sundays. She’d sat down, written each of her three best friends a letter and detailed her idea for gathering twice a month to bake cookies. After all, she had written, they needed each other for support, and what better way to provide that than meeting on a regular basis? Besides, who didn’t love cookies?

And there was no better way to give each other support than to bake together. They would fill cookie sheet after cookie sheet with freshly made dough—usually sugar or oatmeal cookies but sometimes they’d choose another equally delicious recipe—and bundle them up in storage containers to bring to their respective worship services.

All three of the women readily agreed with Edna’s plan. After all, it was a great reason not only to spend time together, but to support each other as well.

Elmer and Edna lived on an old farm that was farther from town, while the other three women lived closer to Shipshewana. Only Verna and Mary lived in the same church district, so the four of them rarely saw one another except for these two precious Fridays each month.

“No sense in trying to talk you into making those oatmeal cookies, I reckon?”

Edna laughed at her husband. “Nee, Elmer. You know that the little ones always ask for sugar cookies. It’s expected, I suppose.”

“Woe to the kinner who prefer oatmeal cookies to sugar cookies!” Elmer groaned. “Well then, I best be making myself scarce then. Wouldn’t want to get in the way of you womenfolk.” He dried his hands on a dish towel, then draped it over the sink. “You need anything from town?”

“Ja, I do!” Edna scurried over to the breakfront and opened a drawer. “Annie’s supposed to be finished with that quilt back she’s piecing for me.”

Elmer raised an eyebrow. “Another quilt? Land’s sake, Edna. You have the energy of ten men.”

She ignored the compliment. “I’m making this one for Jacob and Mary’s baby. Might you stop by Jennifer’s shop and see if Annie dropped it off? If so, give Jennifer this envelope and bring home the package.” She didn’t wait for his response as she handed him a plain white envelope. “And don’t lose that! It’s cash.”

Elmer frowned. “One time, Edna. Just one time. Will you ever let me live that down?”

She smiled and leaned over, placing a soft kiss on his cheek. “Never.”

“That’s what I thought.” He slid the envelope into his back pocket and then patted it as if to reassure his wife that it was secure. “Safe and sound.”

Edna watched as he crossed the room and disappeared into the bedroom. She suspected he was going to change his shirt, which was dirty from tending to the livestock that morning.

She worried about him. He was looking older and more tired as of late. Edna knew that he worked far too hard for far too little. It was increasingly difficult to make ends meet on the farm. Why, her cousin Norma’s husband had recently given up his dairy herd because there just wasn’t any money in it anymore. But Elmer insisted on continuing to raise cows, just like his father and grandfather and great-grandfather before him.

To make ends meet, Edna cooked for Englische tourists during the busy seasons—usually from May until October. Over the winter, she took a break and focused on making quilts. After all, when the weather changed, the tourists weren’t as plentiful as during the warmer months.

Still, the lack of that extra income in the wintertime meant Elmer had to work even harder. Despite enjoying her winter reprieve, Edna was glad that springtime had returned and, beginning in mid-May, she’d start hosting Englische meals again in her farmhouse on Thursdays, Fridays, and Saturdays.

Living on a farm was always a struggle.

While Edna knew that they would be all right, she wasn’t quite so certain that their eldest son, John, would fare the same.

With three sons, and no daughters, the farm was destined to pass down to a fifth generation of Esh boys. However, only John expressed any interest in farming, even though he worked part-time at the auction house in Shipshewana. The two younger boys, Jonas and Jeremiah, weren’t settled into careers yet, although Jonas appeared to favor construction. They much preferred hanging out with their friends and traveling to different places—camping or hunting being their favorite things to do. Neither of them had yet to take his kneeling vow, either.

It was a great cause of concern for both Edna and Elmer.

The bedroom door opened, and Elmer stepped out. He wore a clean light blue shirt, and his hair was freshly combed.

“Still got my envelope?” she asked, half joking.

Elmer patted his back pocket for a second time. “Sure do.”

“Send my best to Jennifer, and if you see John in town, remind him that he’s to stop at Yoders’ for some cheese. I need it for Sunday. I promised to make my cup cheese for the fellowship meal.”

“Quilt. Cheese. Got it.” He slipped on his boots, not bothering to tie them, and grabbed his hat. “Reckon I’ll be home about four, so you’ve plenty of time to enjoy your visit with the girls.”

She gave him a warm smile. Some husbands might grumble about having women take over the kitchen twice a month to meet with friends, but not Elmer. He’d always been kind and considerate like that. Perhaps it was because he grew up with five sisters. It was the only regret that Edna ever had: not having a daughter. But God had chosen for her to be a mother of sons, and she wasn’t about to question His plan.

A few minutes later, she heard the horse and buggy as it rolled down the gravel driveway toward the main road. With the house empty again and the cinnamon rolls cooling, Edna took a quick look around to make certain everything was just so. It wouldn’t do to have even one thing out of place. The last thing she wanted was for anyone to think her house was unkempt.

It was just after twelve thirty when the black buggy rolled into the driveway. Hearing the wheels rumbling on the gravel, Edna felt that familiar surge of joy. She hurried to the window and peered outside, smiling when she saw the horse stop by the barn.

As usual, Verna had driven, stopping to pick up Mary first and then Wilma. And, as usual, the first woman to emerge from the buggy was Wilma. Her dark green dress still had flour marks on the sides, probably from baking fresh bread for her family that morning. Her white prayer kapp covered her graying hair, but a few strands had sprung free and poked out from the back of the stiff white head covering.

Quickly, Edna hurried through the kitchen door and onto the porch, eagerly waiting to greet her friends.

“Wilkum! And hurry! The cinnamon rolls are still warm from this morning!”

Wilma didn’t wait for Verna or Mary. She hurried up the walkway toward Edna. “Cinnamon buns? Why, I should’ve known better than to have a slice of pie after my noon meal!” With the other two ladies out of earshot, she leaned over and whispered, “Prepare yourself. It’s going to be another one of those afternoons.”

Edna’s eyes widened and she immediately looked over Wilma’s shoulders. “Verna?”

“Ja,” was the whispered answer.

“Oh help.”

“And this time it’s a doozy.”

Edna took a deep breath. If she had started the regular baking gatherings for support when Wilma was going through her blue spell, they had all maintained it for Verna’s sanity.

There was no more time for whispered exchanges as both Verna and Mary headed up the walkway, too close for Edna and Wilma to risk further discussion of the matter.

It always struck Edna how similar Verna and Mary looked. Today was no exception. If ever there were two long-lost twins, Verna and Mary were surely they. Of course, Mary was a year younger than Verna and was a second cousin to her rather than a sister. But they shared a similar petite stature and dark brown hair that seemed to defy aging, for neither one had any gray hairs yet.

As she neared the porch, Mary pushed her glasses back onto the bridge of her nose. “Not a day too soon, let me tell you. I was counting the hours until Friday,” she said, “starting on Tuesday!”

Edna glanced at Wilma, who merely shrugged.

Verna caught her breath, a little noise escaping her pursed lips. “Oh, Mary, I never even thought to ask how Bethany’s doing. Why! I was so wrapped up in my Myrna’s latest troubles that I neglected to inquire about yours!”

“Well, I reckon you’ve got your hands full with that fiery redheaded dochder of yours,” Mary replied. “Can’t say I blame you for fretting over her.”

The downcast expression on Verna’s face spoke of her disappointment in her daughter. “That’s no excuse.”

Edna knew that she needed to take swift control of the situation or they’d have Verna or Mary—or mayhaps even both!—in tears. Between Verna’s constant need for approval and Mary’s worrying, it wasn’t unusual for someone to wind up crying.

“Kum now. Let’s sit inside. I’ve a fresh pot of coffee brewing. We can discuss what’s happened once we’ve a hot cup to dunk our cinnamon buns in!”

She guided them inside, catching Wilma’s woeful gaze. Usually during their gatherings, the four women laughed and talked, sharing stories about their families. Occasionally there were a few tears over little disagreements or worries. As of late, it seemed that Verna was having the worst of it with her daughter, Myrna. But today, clearly Mary needed to vent as well.

Edna prayed she’d made enough cinnamon rolls to get them through both women’s complaints.

By the time everyone had settled in and begun mixing the batches of sugar, flour, and other ingredients, both Mary and Verna had relaxed a bit. For this, Edna thanked the good Lord. She had been looking forward to a fun afternoon with her friends. Since it had started out with a litany of complaints, though, it was apt to be anything but.

“Your haus sure is quiet,” Wilma said as she mixed the sugar cookie dough with her hands. “Can’t remember the last time I had such a luxury.”

Edna laughed. “Your twins still at it?”

“Oh, wouldn’t you know it!” Wilma squished the dough between her fingers, then began forming a ball. “Rachel and Ella Mae just about wear me out with their constant bickering.” She patted the dough ball and left it in the bowl to rest. “Can’t wait for them to get married and move on out!”

“Oh now, Wilma!” Edna clicked her tongue. “You say that now, but we all know you’ll be feeling the blues when that time comes.”

“Hmph. Don’t be so sure of that.” Wilma wagged a plump finger in Edna’s direction. “When your boys finally settle down—”

“Finally,” Edna repeated good-naturedly.

“—you’ll be wondering why you were in such a hurry for them to get married!”

Edna rolled her eyes. “What. Ever.” But there was a teasing tone to her enunciated words.

“I’d take the bickering of your two girls over the deafening silence from my Bethany,” Mary offered in a soft voice. “Why, I’ve never seen such a deathly shy girl in my life. Just the other day, I asked her to run into town to fetch me some cheese from Yoders’ Store and she nigh ’bout fainted!”

Edna clucked her tongue again. It was such a shame that Bethany wasn’t more outgoing. Not only was she a pretty girl, but she was also a hard worker. She’d make someone a right good wife, if only a man could break through the wall of silence that surrounded her. But she’d always been a quiet child, and her shyness hadn’t changed now that she was nineteen.

“I don’t know what to do with her,” Mary continued, her voice full of concern. “It’s just not natural to be so introverted.”

“Be glad your dochder is not extroverted,” Verna countered. “Like mine.”

Immediately, the energy in the room shifted from Mary to Verna. Edna braced herself for what she knew was undoubtedly coming: another Myrna story.

“That girl,” Verna began, shaking her head. “She’s never going to change.”

Taking a deep breath, Edna pinched a piece of the dough ball and began rolling it between her palms. “What did Myrna do this time?”

A scowl crossed Verna’s face. “She went and got fired. Again.”

“Again?”

“Ja, that’s right. Again!”

Edna shut her eyes. “Oh help.”

Tossing her hands in the air, Verna’s eyes widened. “She’s been hired and fired from every shop in Shipshewana!”

Despite the seriousness of the conversation, Edna couldn’t help but chuckle. “That’s a bit of an exaggeration, don’t you think?”

Verna began counting on her fingers. “The auction haus. Yoders’ Store. The tea shop in the Red Barn. The theater. The quilt shop. And now the grocery store!” She made a face. “No one gets fired from the grocery store!”

Wilma rolled her eyes. “No one except your dochder.”

“Exactly!”

Edna placed the ball of dough onto the cookie sheet so that Mary could press it down with the bottom of a canning jar. “What happened this time?”

“She scolded an overweight man for buying chocolate and soda. Said it was unhealthy for him. She refused to ring up his order!” Verna sighed. “Who does such a thing?”

Edna swallowed the laugh that threatened to escape from her lips. She could only imagine Myrna shaking her finger at the man as she gave him a tongue-lashing. “Oh my,” she managed to say with a straight face.

Wilma made a noise of disapproval. “Certainly has her opinions, don’t she now? Comes from being so spoiled, I reckon.”

Edna shot Wilma a stern look.

“Well, you must admit that Myrna had good intentions,” Mary offered in defense of the girl.

“Those good intentions just cost her another job!” Verna grabbed some more dough from the bowl and began rolling it in the palms of her hands. “Who will hire her now? Her reputation is downright awful. I’m sure all the store owners in town have heard about her by this time.” She sighed. “I told her she’s going to have to start doing childcare or cleaning haus for the Englischers. But I’m not certain that would be such a good idea, either. I can’t imagine what she’d do if the kinner talked back to her or the Englische tried telling her how they wanted their haus cleaned.”

Edna knew what would happen: Myrna would certainly explode. At twenty-one years of age, Myrna wasn’t about to let anyone tell her what to do or how to do it. “Whatever are you going to do with that child?”

The expression on Verna’s face shifted from distress to exasperation. “Short of putting duct tape over her mouth, I’m not sure what can be done.”

Mary clicked her tongue and shook her head. “Yours talks too much and mine doesn’t talk at all!”

“If only we could find her a right gut job,” Edna said with a sigh. “One that would embrace her”—she paused, searching for the right word that wouldn’t offend—“peculiarities. That would just solve all your problems, Verna.”

“From your lips to God’s ears,” Verna quipped. “I’ll just keep praying for something to calm her tongue a bit. Otherwise, she’ll never settle down and get married.”

Even though Edna believed in miracles, she suspected that God would have to work overtime on this one.

A few minutes later, after the cookie dough was placed on the baking sheets and into the oven, the women moved over to the sitting area near the back window that overlooked the pastures and fields. As they settled into the chairs and sofa, silence engulfed the room. Shortly, the only noise was the gentle clicking of knitting needles and the soft sound of yarn being pulled from skeins. With MayFest only a few weeks away, Edna knew they had their work cut out for them. Not only were they each donating ten baby blankets to raise money for Amish Aid; the four women had agreed to work the table, selling their goods throughout the day of the event. Anything Amish always sold better when an Amish woman was there to sell it.

As she crocheted, Edna’s thoughts drifted to each of the women seated in her sitting room. Years of friendship had not been dimmed by marriages, new homes in new church districts, or the raising of many children. Very different children, she reminded herself. Throughout the years, they’d kept in touch, helping each other through the good times and the bad.

They’d always been there for each other.

“Why should that stop now?”

Mary looked up, her fingers stopping in mid-chain. “What did you say, Edna?”

Surprised, Edna’s eyes widened. Had she said that out loud? Feeling a bit foolish, she gave a slight shake of her head as if to remove the cobwebs that clearly had gathered in her mind. “I was just thinking,” she began, trying to hide her embarrassment at having spoken her thoughts, “that we’ve been through a lot over the years. We’ve helped each other i. . .