Christmas Gift for Rose (9780310336822) by Zondervan Publishing House
Authors: Zondervan Publishing House
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paused for a moment. Was the God of the universe really speaking to her heart and asking her to trust Him?
Rose prayed that she could.
Seven
R OSE KICKED AT THE SNOW AS SHE CONTINUED FORWARD toward home, stirring up white tuffs. “God, I want to be thankful, I really do.” She crossed her arms over her chest, wondering what her real family was doing today. Did they still live in California? Were they gathering together? Had they felt the loss of her presence? Rose’s heart ached thinking about it. But the ache lessened as she neared the house. Her younger siblings were in the middle of a snowball fight.
“Let’s get Rose!” Martha called.
Within seconds a dozen snowballs pelted her direction. One hit her leg, another her shoulder. The rest of the snowballs fell painfully short. A smile curled from Rose’s lips, and she bent over.
“I suppose you do not know, but when I was your age Marcus always chose me for his team in snowball fights!” Rose scooped up snow with her mittened hands and quickly packed a snowball. She let it drop to the ground and made three more. More snowballs flew her direction, and Rose scooped up her snowballs and stood. She threw two at Matthew, hitting him in the stomach, then two more at Elizabeth. She was aboutto bend over and scoop up more snow when she noticed someone off to the side. A man was there, hunched over and making snowballs for little Louisa. He handed them to her and cheered as she threw them, even though they didn’t go more than a few feet.
The pounding of Rose’s heart told her who it was before her mind registered his form: Jonathan.
What is he doing here? Lord, why today of all days?
She was still trying to figure out how to face all of her family, now that she knew the truth. And now this?
Rose stood. Her knees softened slightly as she moved toward Jonathan, despite the flurry of snowballs. She touched her
kapp
, checking that it was in place, and wished she could still the butterflies dancing in her stomach. She jutted out her chin, telling herself not to be weak—to remember the pain his leaving had caused.
“Wie
gehts!”
he called.
How are you?
As if it had been hours—not days—since they’d seen each other. His smile assaulted her. Didn’t he remember her last words? Her declaration that she did not want to see him again?
Rose crossed her arms over her chest. What was he doing here? Why had he come now? She didn’t want to talk to him.
Well, she did, and that was the problem. Unlike anyone else, Jonathan had lived among the
Englisch
—had been a part of them. Maybe he could answer the questions about why her parents did what they did.
“Rose.” He moved toward her, his face growing serious. It was only as he paused before her that he released the breathhe’d been holding. “I’m sorry if I startled you. I know what you told me, but … I just can’t sit by. More than that—my sister showed up at my house last night. She told me I was a fool if I gave up on you too easily. And my mother made some silly excuse that I needed to return one of your mem’s serving dishes. I knew I wouldn’t be able to pull up my chair to her table until I did. But since I’m here, I … I thought I’d tell you again how sorry I am.”
“Stop.” Rose raised her hand.
He rushed on. “Do you know, Rose, that I am truly sorry? I never meant to bring you shame—”
“Jonathan. Just stop.” She pressed her hand to the front of his jacket, where snow clung in clumps from the impact of snowballs.
“You’re not going to let me talk?” He raised one eyebrow.
“
Ne
.” She lowered her gaze, looking to his lips—lips that had kissed her forehead a dozen times. “I’m not going to let you … apologize. We can talk.” She glanced up at him, keeping her voice firm. “I have more questions than answers, but we can talk.”
“From the pinched look on yer face, Rose, they must be thorny questions.” He chuckled, but seeing no humor in her face,
Rose prayed that she could.
Seven
R OSE KICKED AT THE SNOW AS SHE CONTINUED FORWARD toward home, stirring up white tuffs. “God, I want to be thankful, I really do.” She crossed her arms over her chest, wondering what her real family was doing today. Did they still live in California? Were they gathering together? Had they felt the loss of her presence? Rose’s heart ached thinking about it. But the ache lessened as she neared the house. Her younger siblings were in the middle of a snowball fight.
“Let’s get Rose!” Martha called.
Within seconds a dozen snowballs pelted her direction. One hit her leg, another her shoulder. The rest of the snowballs fell painfully short. A smile curled from Rose’s lips, and she bent over.
“I suppose you do not know, but when I was your age Marcus always chose me for his team in snowball fights!” Rose scooped up snow with her mittened hands and quickly packed a snowball. She let it drop to the ground and made three more. More snowballs flew her direction, and Rose scooped up her snowballs and stood. She threw two at Matthew, hitting him in the stomach, then two more at Elizabeth. She was aboutto bend over and scoop up more snow when she noticed someone off to the side. A man was there, hunched over and making snowballs for little Louisa. He handed them to her and cheered as she threw them, even though they didn’t go more than a few feet.
The pounding of Rose’s heart told her who it was before her mind registered his form: Jonathan.
What is he doing here? Lord, why today of all days?
She was still trying to figure out how to face all of her family, now that she knew the truth. And now this?
Rose stood. Her knees softened slightly as she moved toward Jonathan, despite the flurry of snowballs. She touched her
kapp
, checking that it was in place, and wished she could still the butterflies dancing in her stomach. She jutted out her chin, telling herself not to be weak—to remember the pain his leaving had caused.
“Wie
gehts!”
he called.
How are you?
As if it had been hours—not days—since they’d seen each other. His smile assaulted her. Didn’t he remember her last words? Her declaration that she did not want to see him again?
Rose crossed her arms over her chest. What was he doing here? Why had he come now? She didn’t want to talk to him.
Well, she did, and that was the problem. Unlike anyone else, Jonathan had lived among the
Englisch
—had been a part of them. Maybe he could answer the questions about why her parents did what they did.
“Rose.” He moved toward her, his face growing serious. It was only as he paused before her that he released the breathhe’d been holding. “I’m sorry if I startled you. I know what you told me, but … I just can’t sit by. More than that—my sister showed up at my house last night. She told me I was a fool if I gave up on you too easily. And my mother made some silly excuse that I needed to return one of your mem’s serving dishes. I knew I wouldn’t be able to pull up my chair to her table until I did. But since I’m here, I … I thought I’d tell you again how sorry I am.”
“Stop.” Rose raised her hand.
He rushed on. “Do you know, Rose, that I am truly sorry? I never meant to bring you shame—”
“Jonathan. Just stop.” She pressed her hand to the front of his jacket, where snow clung in clumps from the impact of snowballs.
“You’re not going to let me talk?” He raised one eyebrow.
“
Ne
.” She lowered her gaze, looking to his lips—lips that had kissed her forehead a dozen times. “I’m not going to let you … apologize. We can talk.” She glanced up at him, keeping her voice firm. “I have more questions than answers, but we can talk.”
“From the pinched look on yer face, Rose, they must be thorny questions.” He chuckled, but seeing no humor in her face,
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