enjoying Christmas somewhere.
Better tread lightly here, fella.
Jonas waved at an empty chair. “Greetings, Dr. Getz.”
Helen Bomberger’s two chins bobbed up and down with excitement. “Oh, you two already know each other, then?”
Jonas wasn’t certain Emilie knew her own name. Her eyes were unfocused and every inch of her face was covered with a faint pink tinge.
“Oh!” Emilie finally murmured, blushing further. “I … I’m … well, I’m …”
“Late for dinner?” Jonas decided Emilie looked good in pink, especially from the neck up. Clearly he’d have to embarrass her more often. “Have a seat. Helen has fed the ten of us all afternoon. Now it’s your turn.”
“No, no!” Emilie waved her white-dove hands in the air. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.” She took a step backward. “Besides, I’ve already had dinner. Couldn’t eat another bite.”
Yeah, but you should.
Several bites, in fact. The woman was so thin, she was almost scrawny. Not his type at all. “Helen doesn’t let people sit at her table unless they eat something.”
“He’s right, Emilie.” The gray-haired woman patted the chair next to her. “You’re not interrupting a thing. Jonas has spent the last five Christmases here. Hardly company anymore. And isn’t it nice his family is in town this year? Join us for sugar cake at least.”
Emilie finally slipped off her coat—reluctantly, it seemed—and joined them at the table, carefully spreading a cloth napkin across her lap.
Jonas chuckled slightly at the gesture.
Not taking any chances with runaway sugar this time, is she?
Stabbing a forkful of broccoli, Chris waved it in Emilie’s direction. “Aren’t you gonna introduce us, bro?”
Jonas worked his way around the table, putting names to faces, while Emilie’s lips moved silently as if she were memorizing them one by one. Finishing the formalities, he cleared his throat and gazed at her downturned countenance. “Just as well you’re married, gentlemen. Emilie’s already spoken for.”
Her head snapped up.
“I’m
…
what?”
“Married.” Jonas bit back a smile. “Wedded to your history books for the next six months. Right, Doc?” Wasn’t that how it worked with these academic types? They lived with their noses in their books and their heads in the clouds?
When Emilie merely nodded with a wary gaze, he explained, “I’m on the missions committee, Dr. Getz. We’ve been expecting you.”
Not you, precisely.Not a woman. Must have missed that meeting.
He turned toward his brothers. “Emilie has been hired by my church to write a book about our 250th anniversary.”
She bristled at that one. “It’s my home congregation, too.”
A voice drifted in from the kitchen. “And she’s the perfect person for the job.” Helen reappeared, a generous serving of Moravian sugar cake in one hand, a fork in the other. “Will you be wanting coffee, Em?”
Emilie nodded, her rosy skin beginning to fade back to ivory again. “I’m sorry to be so out of sorts, today of all days.” Helen poured coffee into a fancy china cup while Emilie took a tentative bite of her sugar cake.
His gaze followed her fork, tasting the dessert all over again. Of all the good food that flowed out of Helen’s kitchen, this stuff took the prize. A shallow pan filled with a rich dough of some sort, covered with thick brown sugar and cinnamon in buttery little puddles. He’d already had three pieces. Would a fourth be too much to ask?
Helen read his mind. “One more square for you, Jonas?”
His grin told her all she needed to know.
While Helen went off to the kitchen, he trained his eyes on Emilie, who’d already put aside her fork, the cake barely touched. Despite the general clamor around the table, he managed to get her attention.
“So, do your folks still live here in Lititz?”
She nodded. “Two doors down.” Silence.
A real chatterbox, this one.
“You spent Christmas at their place, huh?”
Her
Better tread lightly here, fella.
Jonas waved at an empty chair. “Greetings, Dr. Getz.”
Helen Bomberger’s two chins bobbed up and down with excitement. “Oh, you two already know each other, then?”
Jonas wasn’t certain Emilie knew her own name. Her eyes were unfocused and every inch of her face was covered with a faint pink tinge.
“Oh!” Emilie finally murmured, blushing further. “I … I’m … well, I’m …”
“Late for dinner?” Jonas decided Emilie looked good in pink, especially from the neck up. Clearly he’d have to embarrass her more often. “Have a seat. Helen has fed the ten of us all afternoon. Now it’s your turn.”
“No, no!” Emilie waved her white-dove hands in the air. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.” She took a step backward. “Besides, I’ve already had dinner. Couldn’t eat another bite.”
Yeah, but you should.
Several bites, in fact. The woman was so thin, she was almost scrawny. Not his type at all. “Helen doesn’t let people sit at her table unless they eat something.”
“He’s right, Emilie.” The gray-haired woman patted the chair next to her. “You’re not interrupting a thing. Jonas has spent the last five Christmases here. Hardly company anymore. And isn’t it nice his family is in town this year? Join us for sugar cake at least.”
Emilie finally slipped off her coat—reluctantly, it seemed—and joined them at the table, carefully spreading a cloth napkin across her lap.
Jonas chuckled slightly at the gesture.
Not taking any chances with runaway sugar this time, is she?
Stabbing a forkful of broccoli, Chris waved it in Emilie’s direction. “Aren’t you gonna introduce us, bro?”
Jonas worked his way around the table, putting names to faces, while Emilie’s lips moved silently as if she were memorizing them one by one. Finishing the formalities, he cleared his throat and gazed at her downturned countenance. “Just as well you’re married, gentlemen. Emilie’s already spoken for.”
Her head snapped up.
“I’m
…
what?”
“Married.” Jonas bit back a smile. “Wedded to your history books for the next six months. Right, Doc?” Wasn’t that how it worked with these academic types? They lived with their noses in their books and their heads in the clouds?
When Emilie merely nodded with a wary gaze, he explained, “I’m on the missions committee, Dr. Getz. We’ve been expecting you.”
Not you, precisely.Not a woman. Must have missed that meeting.
He turned toward his brothers. “Emilie has been hired by my church to write a book about our 250th anniversary.”
She bristled at that one. “It’s my home congregation, too.”
A voice drifted in from the kitchen. “And she’s the perfect person for the job.” Helen reappeared, a generous serving of Moravian sugar cake in one hand, a fork in the other. “Will you be wanting coffee, Em?”
Emilie nodded, her rosy skin beginning to fade back to ivory again. “I’m sorry to be so out of sorts, today of all days.” Helen poured coffee into a fancy china cup while Emilie took a tentative bite of her sugar cake.
His gaze followed her fork, tasting the dessert all over again. Of all the good food that flowed out of Helen’s kitchen, this stuff took the prize. A shallow pan filled with a rich dough of some sort, covered with thick brown sugar and cinnamon in buttery little puddles. He’d already had three pieces. Would a fourth be too much to ask?
Helen read his mind. “One more square for you, Jonas?”
His grin told her all she needed to know.
While Helen went off to the kitchen, he trained his eyes on Emilie, who’d already put aside her fork, the cake barely touched. Despite the general clamor around the table, he managed to get her attention.
“So, do your folks still live here in Lititz?”
She nodded. “Two doors down.” Silence.
A real chatterbox, this one.
“You spent Christmas at their place, huh?”
Her
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