Melting Hearts Read online

  Copyright

  ZONDERVAN

  Melting Hearts

  Copyright © 2019 by Kathleen Fuller

  Requests for information should be addressed to:

  Zondervan, 3900 Sparks Dr. SE, Grand Rapids, Michigan 49546

  ISBN: 978-0-310-35284-6 (e-book)

  Epub Edition September 2019 9780310352846

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication

  CIP data is available upon request.

  Unless otherwise noted, Scripture quotations are taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version®, NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide. www.zondervan.com. The “NIV” and “New International Version” are trademarks registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office by Biblica, Inc.™

  Any Internet addresses (websites, blogs, etc.) and telephone numbers in this book are offered as a resource. They are not intended in any way to be or imply an endorsement by Zondervan, nor does Zondervan vouch for the content of these sites and numbers for the life of this book.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or any other—except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without the prior permission of the publisher.

  Publisher’s Note: This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. All characters are fictional, and any similarity to people living or dead is purely coincidental.

  Printed in the United States of America

  19 20 21 22 23 / LSC / 20 19 18 17 16 15 14 13 12 11 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  To James. I love you.

  CONTENTS

  Copyright

  Title Page

  Glossary

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Epilogue

  Discussion Questions

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  GLOSSARY

  ab im kopp: addled in the head

  ach: oh

  aenti: aunt

  appeditlich: delicious

  boppli: baby

  bruders: brothers

  bu: boy

  daadi: grandfather

  daed/dat: dad

  danki: thank you

  dawdy haus/ daadi haus: grandparents’ house

  Deitsch: Dutch

  dochder: daughter

  dummkopf: foolish person

  Englisch/Englischer: English or Non-Amish

  fraa: wife

  Frehlicher Grischtdaag!: Merry Christmas!

  freind: friend

  freinden: friends

  froh: happy

  gegisch: silly

  geh: go

  gern gschehne: you’re welcome

  Gmay: church district

  Gott: God

  groossmammi: grandma

  gude mariye: good morning

  gut: good

  gut nacht/gute nacht: Good night

  haus: house

  hund: dog

  Ich liebe dich: I love you

  jah: yes

  kaffee/kaffi: coffee

  kapp: prayer cap or head covering worn by Amish women

  kichli: cookie

  kichlin: cookies

  kinn: child

  kinner: children

  krank: ill

  kuchen: cakes

  liewe: love, a term of endearment

  maed: young women, girls

  maedel: young woman

  mamm/mudder/mutter: mom

  mammi: grandmother

  mann: husband

  mei: my

  nee: no

  nix: nothing

  onkel: uncle

  Ordnung: written and unwritten rules in an Amish district

  rumspringa/rumschpringe: period of running around

  schee: pretty

  schtupp: family room

  schweschder: sister

  schweschders: sisters

  sohn/suh: son

  vatter: father

  Was iss letz?: What’s wrong?

  Wie bischt: How are you?

  Wie geht’s: How do you do? or Good day!

  wunderbaar: wonderful

  ya: yes

  yer: your

  yerself: yourself

  *The German dialect spoken by the Amish is not a written language and varies depending on the location and origin of the settlement. These spellings are approximations. Most Amish children learn English after they start school. They also learn high German, which is used in their Sunday services.

  1

  “MATTIE, ARE THE COOKIES READY?”

  Mattie Shetler placed the last snickerdoodles specially wrapped for Christmas on a large tray. Each package, neatly tied with either a red or green ribbon, contained eight perfectly round cookies covered with sugared cinnamon. She handed the tray to her aunt Carolyn. “Here you geh. Fresh from the oven this morning.”

  “Bless you. These are going faster than we can make them.”

  “’Tis the season,” Mattie said with a merry smile. Carolyn grinned before hurrying back to the front of the bakery she owned. It was still called Yoder’s Bakery, even though she was now Carolyn Shetler, having married Mattie’s uncle Atlee two years earlier.

  Mattie picked up a clean dishcloth and started wiping crumbs from the stainless-steel worktable. She’d been in Birch Creek for two weeks, here at her uncle’s request. When he asked her to come help Carolyn with the Christmas rush after his wife suddenly lost a couple of employees, Mattie caught the first bus from Fredericktown. Her uncle thought she was doing them a favor, but Mattie was benefiting just as much, if not more. She loved to travel, she loved to bake, and she especially loved Christmas. From the crisp, wintry weather to baking treats to celebrating Christ’s birth, she always looked forward to this special holiday.

  As if he sensed her thinking about him, Onkel Atlee strode through the back door.

  “Something smells gut,” he said with a grin. “Then again, something always smells gut in this kitchen.”

  Mattie shook out the dishcloth over the sink. “Snickerdoodles,” she said. “I was just going to start another batch.” She turned to him and said in a low voice, “Do you want me to save you a couple?”

  He chuckled and nodded. “If you please.” He leaned against the counter next to the sink. “Asking you to come out here was one of the best decisions I’ve made in a long time. Except for deciding to marry Carolyn, of course.”

  “Of course.” Her uncle had lost his first wife years ago, when they were both around Mattie’s age. He’d mourned her for a long time, even though he tried to be cheerful whenever he was around people. But a sadness had surrounded him, one he’d never been able to completely overcome.

  Then he met Carolyn on a visit to Birch Creek, and his life changed. He was happy now—without even trying. Mattie was pleased for him, grateful he’d finally been able to move past his grief. She was staying at the couple’s home next door to the bakery until a few days before Christmas, and then she’d return home to Fredericktown.

  In their late forties, her uncle and aunt got along very well. Not all married couples did no matter their age, as Mattie had observed in her own community. But she was discovering that Birch Creek was a generally friendly place. It wasn’t without its problems, as all communities had. But overall, she sensed a true togetherness here. That and a nice dose of Christmas spirit.

  “You’re home early,” she said, refe
rring to her uncle’s work as a cabinetmaker.

  “I took the rest of the day off. Those cabinets can wait another day. The plans are almost finished for the bakery addition,” he said. “I came by to get some last-minute measurements. I wanted to wait until spring to build it, but Carolyn insists on doing it now. She says she has a feeling we shouldn’t put it off until next year.” He pulled out a tape measure from the tool belt slung around his waist. “I’ve learned to trust those gut feelings of hers.”

  Mattie nodded as she pulled a large bowl from underneath the worktable. When her uncle went back outside, she placed two pounds of butter, two cups of shortening, and six cups of sugar into it. She was mixing the ingredients with a mechanical beater when he returned. “Everything’s set to geh,” he said. “Just waiting for Peter Kaufmann to show up.”

  Her hands stilled, and the beater came to a halt. “Who?”

  “Peter Kaufmann.” He frowned. “Didn’t I tell you I hired him to help me build the addition? I thought about asking a few folks around here to pitch in, and I know they normally would if I asked. But I also know how busy they are right now. Yer daed mentioned in his letter a couple of weeks ago that Peter was looking for extra work, so I decided to offer him a job. He’ll be here for a few weeks.”

  She almost dropped the beater into the bowl of sugared butter. “Peter Kaufmann,” she said weakly.

  “Ya. You’re around the same age, aren’t you? Went to school and youth group together? Aren’t you two friends?”

  More like sworn enemies. “Not exactly.”

  “Oh. I didn’t realize that.” He frowned again. “He’s arriving this afternoon. I told him he could stay in the second spare bedroom.”

  The one down the hall from her. Great. Not only did she have to suffer seeing Peter every day, but they would be living in the same house.

  “Is this going to be a problem?” Onkel Atlee asked, his brow furrowing.

  Mattie paused. If she’d known Peter would be here, she would have politely declined to come when her uncle called. “Nee,” she said. She’d just have to figure out a way to deal with Peter—unless she could somehow get her uncle to send him home.

  Carolyn came dashing back into the kitchen, her cheeks flushed. “Mattie, where did you put the fruitcake loaves?”

  Mattie pointed to a baking rack in one corner of the kitchen. “Over there, on the second shelf. I’ll get some.”

  She’d spent nearly an hour chopping dried apricots and pineapple the previous morning, which had turned out to be a sticky task. But the results were worth it. Instead of dry and bitter tasting, these cakes were moist and filled with not only the chopped fruit but also candied cherry halves. Her mouth had watered when she pulled the loaves out of the oven.

  “The packages look lovely,” Carolyn said when she took a tray of them from Mattie. “Where did you get the bows?”

  “At Noelle’s in Barton.” She’d visited the yarn and craft shop the week before and picked up some Christmas-themed ribbon spools, along with plenty of yarn for her own projects. These bows were made of red-and-white-checkered gingham.

  Carolyn turned to her husband. “Yer niece is a jewel,” she said. “I don’t know what I would do without her. I was in such a pickle when Leah and Mandy left after Mandy’s surprise wedding last month.” She turned to Mattie. “Danki again for coming to help out.” She glanced at the fruitcakes and made a face. “I can’t believe people like these things.”

  “Hey,” her uncle said, walking over to his wife. “I like these things.”

  “I’d question yer taste, but you had the gut sense to marry me.” She smiled at him, winked at Mattie, and then rushed back to her customers.

  Onkel Atlee shook his head and chuckled. “What am I going to do with that woman?” Then he once again left through the back door, this time before Mattie could talk to him about Peter.

  But what would she have said? She stared at the chunks of sugar, butter, and shortening in the bowl. She couldn’t ask her uncle to send Peter home. Not only would she have to give him a reason she didn’t want to reveal, but it wouldn’t be right—even though it was exactly what she wanted him to do.

  She also couldn’t leave Carolyn in a lurch. She worked hard, but she couldn’t run the bakery with only part-time help, especially during the Christmas rush. Nor was it an ideal time to make new hiring decisions, which was one of the reasons her uncle had called her. And although their friend Joanna Beiler and Carolyn’s sister-in-law Mary Yoder helped sometimes and were both excellent bakers, they had families to take care of. They couldn’t work in the bakery any more than they already did.

  Besides, Mattie realized, she didn’t want to leave. She enjoyed working in the bakery, even more than she’d anticipated. And despite her feelings about Peter, she had to admit he was a good carpenter. Onkel Atlee had been smart to hire him.

  Grimacing, she picked up the beater and continued preparing the ingredients. She didn’t have a choice when it came to Peter—she would have to put up with him for a while. And between working in the bakery and completing her own Christmas projects, she had plenty to keep her occupied. She’d have no problem avoiding him. She’d had plenty of practice.

  Peter Kaufmann slung his duffel bag over his shoulder, the weight of it slamming into his back. He’d brought his own tools and belt even though he knew Atlee would have everything they needed to build the addition. There was just something about the feel of his own tools in his hands. He always did a better job when he used them.

  He was surprised when Atlee offered him the work, but his timing couldn’t have been better. Peter had just finished a construction job in Fredericktown, no one in the area was hiring for other jobs until after Christmas, and he’d been growing a little concerned about being out of work that long.

  He didn’t even know Atlee very well. He’d been a kid when his wife died, and the man had kept himself at arm’s length from the rest of the community for years as he grieved. When Atlee left Fredericktown to marry someone from Birch Creek, Peter was glad for him—and now he almost envied him too. The thought of leaving sometimes appealed to Peter, ever since . . .

  He shook his head. He wasn’t going to think about her.

  Atlee had arranged for a taxi to take Peter from the bus station to the Shetler home, and he made small talk with the driver during the short ride. As the car pulled into a driveway that led to a small white house, Peter spied the bakery next door. He paid the driver, hoisted his duffel bag on his shoulder again, and walked to the front door.

  He knocked and waited for an answer. No one came. He knocked again, and when he still didn’t get an answer, he decided to go to the bakery. Maybe Atlee was there.

  A bell rang as he opened the front door. The bakery was filled with simple decorations—baked goods decorated with colored ribbons, a large pine bow hanging over the top ledge of the window, a few rustic ornaments placed on the display tables and case. He breathed in a delicious mix of cinnamon, chocolate, and peppermint. His stomach rumbled. It was nearly four thirty, and he’d skipped lunch.

  An older woman stood behind the long glass counter with a pile of receipts, a pencil, and a small notebook in front of her. “Hello. May I help you?”

  “I’m looking for Atlee and Carolyn Shetler.”

  “I’m Carolyn.”

  “Hi. I’m Peter Kaufmann.”

  “Ah, Peter.” The woman smiled and held out her hand. “Atlee’s working with Solomon Troyer this afternoon. He should be finishing up anytime now, so it won’t be long before he’s home. It was a last-minute job or else he’d be here. It’s already been a busy Christmas season for everyone in Birch Creek. I’m so glad you’re able to help us.”

  He glanced again around the large room. It was a typical bakery, similar to one near Fredericktown he’d been to a couple of times. But it was quiet, and he didn’t see any customers. From the taxi, he’d noticed the community itself was quiet, without a lot of tourists common in the larger districts.
>
  Then again, most Amish businesses closed at five. “Is it nearly closing time?”

  “Not yet.” Carolyn had placed the receipts in a metal box, and she closed its lid and put it under the counter. “Right now I’m thankful for a break, but we stay open until six during the holidays.”

  “Six? Why?”

  “You’ll see.”

  As if on cue, the bell on the door rang, and he turned around. Six customers flowed through the entrance at once, and they were all Englisch. So Birch Creek had tourists after all. As he stood back and watched, two customers went straight to Carolyn and placed orders. The other four wandered around the store, inspecting the variety of baked goods on display tables and inside the glass case. Within the next minute, five more customers arrived.

  Carolyn called over her shoulder in Dietsch, “I need you up front, Mattie.”

  Peter frowned. Ugh. Just hearing the name Mattie made his teeth clench. Although he managed to avoid the Mattie he knew as much as possible, at least he was sure he wouldn’t have to deal with her for a while.

  Now that he thought about it, though, he hadn’t seen her lately.

  One of the double doors he guessed led to the kitchen swung open, and Peter froze. He’d recognize that face full of freckles anywhere. What was Atlee’s niece doing in Birch Creek?

  Mattie Shetler had her head down as she brushed her hand against her dove-gray dress, leaving a faint trace of white powder on the fabric. Even her ears were covered in freckles. His stomach turned sour, and he fought the urge to flee. He would look downright foolish if he dashed out of here as though his pants were on fire.

  Mattie lifted her head. “May I help . . .” Her cheeks turned pale, making the light-brown spots that dotted them stand out more than normal. “Peter.” Her mouth twisted as she said his name.

  “Mattie.” He kept his expression blank. Or at least he hoped he did. “You don’t look surprised to see me.”

  “I knew you were coming,” she muttered.

  She did? Now he frowned. “Atlee didn’t say you’d be here.”

  She gave him a steady look as she said in a forced whisper, “I wouldn’t have agreed to be here if I’d known you were coming.”