Читать книгу Amish Christmas Twins - Shelley Shepard Gray - Страница 10

Chapter 4

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 it continued.

Will, John, and Harley carried shotguns in their hands and backpacks filled with snacks on their backs. They pretended to look hard for turkeys, but in actuality, Will knew their chances of actually finding any birds were slim. What was important was that they had gotten Jemima and Roy out of the house for a little adventure. Three days before, he’d spoken to John at work about the children. When John had suggested a Christmas turkey-hunting trip, he’d been doubtful, but now he was realizing that it was good medicine for all of them.

They were all dressed in boots, layers of clothing, hats, and mittens. Harley was gifted in the way he dealt with Jemima. She responded well to his quiet, solemn ways as well as his ability to spy rabbits, deer, and bright red cardinals.

As for Roy, Will could tell that he still wasn’t exactly sure what to think about John. Though Roy had been in an English foster home, Will knew that it hadn’t been a very positive situation. He feared that Roy was also coming to associate Englishers with people like their former foster parents. Perhaps by the end of their adventure, the boy would warm up to John and maybe even Englishers in general.

After an hour went by, Harley stomped his feet. “I reckon it’s time for a hot chocolate and cookie break.” He looked around. “Anyone want to have some with me?”

“We don’t have any hot chocolate or cookies,” Jemima said. “Mrs. Kurtz packed us sandwiches.”

“Of course we do, child. Mei frau Katie made it for us.” Harley pointed to a rock. “Let’s sit down for a spell, jah?”

“Does he really have hot chocolate?” Roy whispered to Will.

“Of course,” Will said as he helped the boy take off his backpack. When Jemima sat on Will’s other side, he felt a burst of pride. He was out with his children. Even though he hadn’t known them for long and they weren’t his by birth, he felt a connection to them and their well-being as strongly as if he’d held each of them in his arms in a delivery room.

“How are you doing, Jemima?” he asked. “Are you glad you decided to come out with the men today?”

She nodded. “I didn’t think I would have fun, but it’s nice to be out in the woods.”

“I think so, too.” Will smiled down at her.

“Do you think E.—I mean, Mrs. Kurtz is doing okay all by herself?” Jemima asked.

“I think so. She was going to do some cleaning around the house. Maybe sewing, too.” He also knew E.A. was going to be sewing blankets for Roy and Jemima for one of their Christmas presents. She was making stuffed rabbits for each of them as well.

“She sure likes to sew,” Roy said.

“That’s because she has a sewing shop. Someone is managing it for her now, but for a while she worked there all the time. Ah, here we go,” he said as Harley handed out paper cups filled with hot chocolate, followed by napkins folded around sugar cookies.

Jemima gazed at the perfectly formed stars and hearts. Harley’s wife, Katie, had even lined the edges with red sprinkles. They were truly works of art. “They’re really pretty.”

“They are, and they taste good, too,” Will said.

“Why, I’d say these cookies are almost as good as my Marie’s cookies,” John said with a smile.

“Never say that,” Harley retorted.

John laughed. “My wife Marie is a terrible cook, Jemima and Roy. That’s why they’re teasing about the cookies.”

“You don’t mind that she can’t cook?” Jemima asked.

“Not a bit. We all have our gifts, jah? Marie is a whiz at math and all sorts of things. An’ it just so happens that I am rather handy in the kitchen. I never would have known that if Marie hadn’t been so terrible.”

“E.A. makes good chicken,” Roy said. “She bakes it with carrots and potatoes.”

John’s expression softened. “I bet it is wonderful-gut, Roy.”

Just as Jemima was taking a careful sip, her eyes widened. “Oh!”

“What?”

“Look!” She pointed to a flock of four turkeys carefully pecking the ground ten or so yards away.

Even from that distance Will could tell that it was a turkey family of sorts. Three of the turkeys were much smaller than the largest one, and they were all trailing after the leader like schoolchildren followed their teacher.

“What do we do now?” Roy asked.

His eyes were wide; Jemima’s were resigned. Will glanced at Harley and John, who had picked up his shotgun.

But then it became clear that none of them had the heart to shoot the mother bird. But what to do?

John jumped to his feet, somehow managing to knock over Harley’s steel thermos. It fell on its side with a loud clang, ringing through the trees like Christmas bells.

The turkeys froze, all looked their way, then scurried off down a ravine.

“Oh, um, rats!” John cried.

“John, you never could stay quiet. You scared off our Christmas supper,” Will said. “Now what are we gonna do?”

“I’m real sorry, everyone. I don’t know what happened,” John said.

Roy and Jemima turned back to Will with wide eyes. Struggling to keep a straight face again, he made a great show of looking at his pocket watch. “It’s getting late. I reckon we should get on home.”

“But what about the turkeys?” Roy asked. “What should we do?”

“Do?” Will asked. “Oh. Well, I think I’m going to tell E.A. that we didn’t see any turkeys today.”

“But we did,” Roy said. “So you wouldn’t be telling the truth.”

“It would only be a small fib.”

John winked. “I only saw a couple of birds from a great distance. I’m not a hundred percent positive they were turkeys. Are you, Harley?”

“Nee. They might have been . . . um . . . quail. Or wild chickens.”

“Wild chickens?” Roy wrinkled his freckled nose.

Harley zipped up his backpack with the thermos tucked safely inside. “Ah, jah. And let me tell you what, I ain’t about to start eating wild chickens this year for Christmas.”

“Me neither,” Will said. “Don’t fret, kinner. I’ll go to the butcher and ask him to put aside a turkey for us at the shop. E.A. won’t care if I do that. She’ll probably be pleased she doesn’t have to pluck feathers.”

Jemima giggled before covering her mouth again. But at the last minute, she left it uncovered and her laughter filled the air.

And Will realized that was what happiness sounded like.