An Amish Christmas Promise. Jo Ann Brown

Rose Anne and Taylor whispered in delight at seeing each other. Her niece had asked to have her hair done like Taylor’s pom-pom pigtails, but Rose Anne’s hair was too straight.

      Carolyn waved to the women and one lone elderly man working at the day care center that morning.

      Jenna Sommers, whose hair was as black as her foster daughter’s, wove through the tables toward her, motioning for Carolyn to wait. More than one child halted the town’s librarian and asked when she was going to read to them. Assuring them she would if they ate their breakfast, she was smiling as she reached the door where Carolyn stood, trying not to look impatient to get to work.

      “Good morning, Carolyn,” Jenna said in her sweet voice, which could alter to a growl when she read a book with a big dog or a giant in it. “I hear the team has arrived who is building you a new house.”

      “That’s what Tony told me yesterday.” Carolyn shifted uneasily, overwhelmed with the generosity. And how the thought of spending time with Michael Miller accelerated her heart rate. “There are other people who need a home as much as we do.”

      “I don’t know what the policies are for this new group, but I’ve heard the MDS helps the elderly and single mothers first.”

      Carolyn had learned MDS stood for the Mennonite Disaster Service. The organization, which was celebrating its seventieth anniversary, had already sent people to evaluate where their volunteers could best be used, and she had sat through an uncomfortable interview. She was grateful people wanted to help her and the children. Having the community pitch in after a tragedy was what she’d been accustomed to while growing up. She was accustomed to such generosity.

      What bothered her was that she wasn’t a single mother. She was a single aunt.

      Rubbing sleep from his eyes, Michael followed his friends into the long, low building attached to the simple white meetinghouse. The Mennonite chapel had no tower or steeple, and the windows were clear glass. He was curious about what the sanctuary looked like, but his destination, as his rumbling stomach reminded him, was breakfast in what the locals called the community center.

      Rows of tables in every possible shape and size had been pushed together to allow for the most seating. Chairs and benches flanked them. Upholstered chairs were placed next to lawn chairs with plastic webbing. He wondered if every house in the village had emptied its chairs and tables into the space.

      Many were filled with people intent on eating. He could understand because the aromas of eggs, bacon and toast coming from the kitchen were enticing.

      As enticing as...

      He halted the thought before it could form, but it wasn’t easy when he noticed Carolyn Wiebe smiling at a man and a woman who were selecting generous portions of food at the window between the dining area and what looked like a well-stocked commercial kitchen. Her dark eyes sparkled like stars in a night sky, and her smile was warmer than the air billowing out of the kitchen. He found himself wishing she’d look his way.

      “Over here?” asked James before Michael could wonder why he was acting like a teenage boy at his first youth singing.

      Looking at where his friend was gesturing, Michael wasn’t surprised none of James’s brothers were seated nearby. James hadn’t said anything, but it was clear he was annoyed with his three older brothers who’d swooped down from their homes in Ontario and insisted James join them in volunteering. He’d heard James had moved to Harmony Creek Hollow to get away from his family, though James had been happy when his younger sister had moved in with him earlier and now taught at the settlement’s school.

      Michael pushed thoughts of James’s family from his head as he walked with his two friends to a round table between two rectangular ones. The three chairs on one side would work for them. He nodded to an older couple who sat on the other side before setting his hat on the table.

      “The sweet rolls are fine this morning,” the white-haired man said. “You’ll want to check them out, but you may want to be careful.” He winked and grinned before digging into his breakfast again.

      Michael wasn’t sure why the man had winked until he went to the serving window and saw Carolyn was handing out cinnamon rolls topped with nuts and raisins to each person who walked by. When she noticed him, she greeted him with the same smile she’d offered each person ahead of him.

      “Gute mariye,” he said, then said, “Good morning.”

      She laughed. “You don’t need to translate. Anyone could guess what you were saying. After all, it didn’t sound like you were asking for a second roll.”

      “Can we have two?” asked Benjamin from behind him.

      “The rule is take all you want,” she said with a smile, “but eat all you take.”

      Benjamin took a half step back and spooned more scrambled eggs onto his plate. When James arched a brow, he said, “Hey, I’m a growing boy.”

      “I’ll have two rolls please, Carolyn,” Michael said.

      “Just remember the rules.” Her smile became sassy, and he saw the resemblance between her and her son.

      He couldn’t keep from smiling back as their gazes met and held.

      A nudge against his back broke the link between them, and Michael wasn’t sure how long he’d stood there savoring her smile. He grabbed flatware rolled into a paper napkin before striding to the table.

      “I told you to be careful,” chided the old man with a grin as he stood and helped his wife gather their dishes. “Something sweet can knock a man right off his feet.”

      Michael hoped his friends hadn’t heard the comments, but they laughed as they sat beside him. He bent over his plate for grace and watched from the corners of his eyes as James and Benjamin did the same.

      Before they could tease him further, Michael began talking about the orientation session they were required to attend after breakfast. He didn’t give either man a chance to change the subject, but he wondered why he’d bothered when he saw the grins they wore as they ate. He wasn’t fooling anyone, not even himself. He looked forward to getting to know Carolyn better, but that’s where he’d have to draw the line.

      She was involved in her Mennonite congregation, and he had no idea if he intended to remain Amish. She didn’t need to have him dump his mess of a life on her when she was trying to rebuild everything that had been lost.

      She was a total mess.

      But so was everyone else in Evergreen Corners.

      Carolyn laughed as she thought of how Gladys Whittaker, their mayor, never used to appear in public without every hair in place. Since the flood, mud on her face seemed to be the mayor’s favorite fashion accessory. Elton Hershey had had stains on his pants when he gave the sermon on Sunday. Nobody had complained about their kindhearted pastor, because everyone was fighting to get rid of mud from their clothing, too.

      She squatted by the brook that had changed course. There was talk that the water would be forced back into its proper channel, but it was a low priority while people needed places to live.

      Washing mud off her hands, Carolyn winced as her back reminded her of the hard work she’d done. She’d joined five others cleaning out a house that had been inundated. Once they’d gotten the mud off the floors, they spent hours removing soaked drywall before mold could grow inside the walls. She’d carried the heavy pieces of wet plaster to a pile in the yard while someone else had sprayed the two-by-fours with a mold killer.

      Her hands ached as well as her elbows, shoulders and back. It’d be quicker to count the muscles that didn’t hurt. Taking care of two children and raising chickens and baking hadn’t prepared her for such physical work.