The Cousin (Doris's Christmas Story Book 1) Read online

  The Cousin

  Doris’s Christmas Story #1

  Brenda Maxfield

  Copyright © 2019 by Tica House Publishing LLC

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Personal Word from the Author

  Dearest Readers,

  Thank you so much for choosing one of my books. I am proud to be a part of the team of writers at Tica House Publishing who work joyfully to bring you stories of hope, faith, courage, and love. Your kind words and loving readership are deeply appreciated.

  I would like to personally invite you to sign up for updates and to become part of our Exclusive Reader Club—it’s completely Free to join! We’d love to welcome you!

  Much love,

  Brenda Maxfield

  CLICK HERE to Join our Reader’s Club and to Receive Tica House Updates!

  Contents

  Personal Word from the Author

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Continue Reading…

  Thank you for Reading

  More Amish Romance for You

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  Likewise the Spirit also helpeth our infirmities: for we know not what we should pray for as we ought: but the Spirit itself taketh intercession for us with groanings which cannot be uttered.

  Romans 8:26 KJV

  Doris Glick gazed at her aunt’s sour expression. “I’m sorry, Aenti,” she murmured, even though she wasn’t sorry at all.

  Eliza Troyer sniffed, drawing herself to her full height. “I should well think you would be sorry,” she said, her voice clipped. “I made a promise to your mamm.” Her face crumpled for a quick moment and then hardened in exasperation. “I haven’t done my duty to you or to my sister.”

  “It isn’t your fault. You can’t take the blame.”

  “You’re under my roof, ain’t so? You’re in my care.”

  “I’m also nineteen years old and hardly a child.” Doris took a step closer to her aunt. “You’ve been wonderful gut to me, and I’m right grateful.”

  “What is it, then?” Eliza asked. “What is it about that boy that won’t allow you to give him up? He’s in prison, Doris. Prison.” She visibly shuddered. “Imagine an Amish boy in prison. It doesn’t bear thinking about.”

  “He’s getting out soon. And don’t we all make mistakes? Isn’t forgiveness what we’re all about?”

  Eliza gripped Doris’s arm. “Maybe so. But that don’t mean you have to be writing to him. That don’t mean you have to be sweet on him.”

  “We can’t choose who we’re sweet on, can we?” Doris tried her best to inject a playful note into her voice, hoping to cajole a smile out of her aunt. It wasn’t to be.

  “This ain’t no laughing matter, child.” Eliza ran her hands down her ample bosom and then twisted her fingers in a nervous gesture. “What am I going to say to Henrietta?”

  “You don’t have to say a thing,” Doris said, working to curb her anger. She wasn’t a little girl who had to be tattled on to her mother.

  “I promised I’d care for you—”

  “Which you have.”

  “I promised I’d get that Lehman boy out of your mind.”

  Doris sighed. “It isn’t that easy.”

  “Clearly, it ain’t,” Eliza said with a moan. She squared her shoulders. “There will be no more letter-writing to him, do you hear me? None at all. I won’t have you writing lovesick letters under my roof.”

  Doris pursed her lips. Now Eliza was acting more like herself—taking charge, no questions allowed, instant obedience expected. This regular behavior was likely why Eliza’s children had scattered to the wind after they grew up.

  “Jah. I understand, Aenti.”

  “Gut,” Eliza snapped. “Now, you’ll be helping me at the Feed and Supply until you leave this weekend.”

  “I’m leaving this weekend?”

  “Of course, you are. I can’t be responsible if you’re going to be sneaking around behind my back. And I’m certain your Onkel Eli will be in complete agreement.”

  Doris had never noticed before how much her aunt’s voice sounded like a magpie’s—shrill and insistent. It drilled through her eardrums with chirp-like precision.

  “Doris? Are you listening? Did you hear me?”

  How could she not?

  “Jah, Aenti. But I’d like to stay a bit longer.”

  Eliza sighed. “I would like you to stay longer, too. But it ain’t to be. I tried, you know. I tried to get you and Noah King together. He’s a nice boy, Doris. A real nice boy. And he ain’t in prison.”

  “He’s also sweet on someone else.”

  “He’s a hero, you know.” Eliza clucked her tongue. “I hate to think what further damage would have been done if Noah hadn’t caught that arsonist.”

  “More barns would have burned,” Doris said. “And jah. He is a hero.”

  “Now, why couldn’t you go after a nice boy like that?”

  “Aenti,” Doris said, exasperated. “Noah King isn’t interested in me.”

  “He seemed plenty interested the night he came for dinner.” Eliza smiled at the memory. “Goodness, Doris, but you outdid yourself with that shoo-fly pie.”

  “It was tasty.”

  “More than tasty. Noah King is a fool for not going after you.”

  “It isn’t to be, Aenti.”

  “Nee, I s’pose not.” Eliza shook herself. “But that don’t mean you have to go after that jail bird.”

  Jail bird? Doris nearly choked on her saliva. Where in the world had her aunt picked up that bit of Englisch slang? She stared once again at her aunt in surprise.

  “Don’t give me that look. That’s what the boy is, for sure and for certain. Your mamm has told me everything.”

  Doris rolled her eyes. She could just hear her mother ranting on and on about Jordan to Eliza. And of course, Eliza would relish every morsel, rolling everything around in her mind until it was exaggerated into a huge mess.

  But in truth, it was a huge mess. Why had Jordan done it? Why had he taken that car? The owner hadn’t given him permission. The problem was, even Doris didn’t know very much about what had happened. She’d been writing Jordan in prison, but he hadn’t written her. In all fairness, she’d warned him against writing. Her mother would have come unglued if Doris had received letters from the jail. Even if Jordan hadn’t put a return address on his letter, her mother would have known.

  And of course, Doris warned him away from writing her in Hollybrook. Eliza had a way of sniffing out everything. She’d have discovered his letters and snatched them away in a flash. It was bad enough Doris got caught sending him one.

  She’d gotten away with it at first. But then, she’d made the fatal error of tucking her last letter to Jordan in her waistband before taking it to the mailbox. Her aunt’s eagle eye had zoomed in on it like it was a fat, tasty mouse waiting to be devoured.

  Thus … this conversation and the decision that Doris would be returned to Linder Creek that weekend. Just as well, Doris thought with resignation. She might as well go home, even though she’d enjoyed her time
in Hollybrook.

  She could continue writing Jordan when she returned home; she’d just have to be extra careful about it. Thank goodness, it wouldn’t be for much longer. Jordan was to be released soon, as far as she knew. She inhaled deeply. The thought of Jordan getting out sent tingles up and down her arms. Soon, she could see him, and he would take her into his arms and hold her and maybe even kiss her.

  She touched her lips and smiled.

  “Well, come on, child. We can’t stand here all morning now, can we?” Eliza said, breaking into her thoughts. “Eli is expecting us at the store. We’re about to open up. Grab your cape. It’s cold out there and a wind has come up.” Eliza peered through the front window. “Looks like we might get some snow.”

  Doris nodded and hurried to the washroom for her cape and scarf and mittens. The December weather had turned bitter that week, even worse than it had been right after Thanksgiving. Doris didn’t mind, not really. The cold didn’t bother her the way it bothered some. And she quite fancied a white Christmas, even though the snow sometimes caused problems for their buggies. But the Englisch usually kept the roads fairly well plowed, which was a great help.

  Doris snatched up her cape and fastened it securely under her chin. She debated whether to wear an outer cover over her kapp, but she decided against it. If worse came to worse, she could fasten her scarf over her head.

  “Jordan,” she whispered. “What are you doing today? Right now? Are you all right?”

  She had no idea what he did all day. She’d only received one letter from him—a letter he’d sent through Doris’s best friend, Nancy Chupp. It had worked, too. Nancy’s parents were none the wiser. Nancy had been willing to let Jordan continue using her address, and Doris had nearly agreed. But then, in a fit of conscience, she’d told Jordan not to write her using Nancy’s address anymore. It was bad enough that Doris was out of favor—no need to drag Nancy into it.

  “You coming?” Eliza shrilled from the kitchen.

  “Jah. I’m ready,” Doris said, hurrying to join her aunt.

  Chapter Two

  That evening after the dishes were washed and the kitchen red up, Doris slipped off to her room. All the talk earlier about Jordan had made her miss him more than usual. She pulled out her suitcase from where she kept it under the bed. Inside, she fingered the lining near the latch and removed Jordan’s one letter and re-read it for the hundredth time.

  Dear Doris,

  I’m writing this to Nancy’s address. I couldn’t think of anywhere else to send it. I reckon your folks would be right mad if I sent a letter directly to you. In truth, I reckon the whole district is angry with me. I’ve dirtied the reputation of all Amish by what I did. I feel bad about that.

  Don’t forget me, Doris. Please, don’t. I won’t be in here long. I’m cooperating with everything because I was told that’d get me out sooner.

  They took away my clothes. I’m wearing prison clothes now, and they feel right funny. You wouldn’t recognize me.

  You won’t forget me, will you? I’ll be out in no time, and we can take up where we left off.

  Yours,

  Jordan

  Take up where we left off. Doris clung to those words. Indeed, they’d become somewhat of a chant to her over the last months. Take up where we left off. Take up where we left off.

  And where she and Jordan had left off suited her fine. She used to see him at least twice a week when he’d swing by in his buggy after suppertime and take her for a drive. She never knew for certain which nights he’d come for her, so she made it her practice to take a walk every evening, even when the weather turned cold and icy. Her mother would raise a brow when she would leave to go to the washroom where they kept their coats and capes.

  Of course, Henrietta had guessed Doris was courting—she just didn’t know with whom. As was their practice, she never asked Doris, either. She just smiled, certain that whoever it was would be fine.

  But it hadn’t been fine. When the shocking news of Jordan Lehman stealing a car had blasted through the grapevine, Doris couldn’t hide her reaction. She remembered exactly where she’d been standing in the local mercantile when old busybody Tessie Stutzman had approached her and her mother.

  “You heard the news, haven’t you?” Tessie had clucked after approaching them.

  “What news?” her mother had asked.

  Doris, not being much for gossip, had started to wander away when Tessie went on. “About that Lehman boy.”

  Wide-eyed, Doris turned back around. “What about him?” she asked, praying it wouldn’t be Jordan, but maybe one of his three brothers.

  “They got him in jail,” Tessie said, her face wide with horror. “Imagine that. An Amish boy—one of our own—in jail.”

  “Which Lehman boy?” Doris had demanded, feeling faint.

  Tessie leveled her watery eyes on Doris. “Jordan.”

  Doris clutched her chest, steeling herself not to crumple to the floor. “Wh-why?” she stammered.

  Her mother grabbed Tessie’s arm. “In jail? One of our own? But what did he do?”

  Tessie looked like a clever cat ready to pounce. Her back arched as she stated loudly, “He done stole a car.”

  Henrietta Glick gasped. She turned to Doris. “Can you believe—” She stopped short, her brow pulling low over her eyes in a stunned frown. “Doris? Doris? You all right?”

  Doris had tried to swallow, but her throat was sandpaper dry. She gave her mother an imploring look. She couldn’t speak. She could barely breathe. Henrietta blinked in confusion and then her expression cleared in horrible awareness. She swirled to Tessie.

  “That’s a real shame, it is. Well, Tessie, Doris and I are in a bit of a hurry this day. We can talk later.”

  And with that, Henrietta had grabbed Doris’s arm and pulled her from the store. Doris stumbled to keep up with her mother until they cleared the building and Henrietta stopped moving. She let go of Doris and gaped at her.

  “It’s him, ain’t so?” she cried. “That Jordan Lehman. He’s your beau.”

  She wasn’t even asking now; she knew. Doris didn’t have a chance to respond before her mother was dragging her to their buggy.

  “Get in,” she ordered her daughter.

  Doris managed to get into the buggy, her mind whirling. A car? Jordan had stolen a car? But why? And when? She’d just seen him two nights before. He hadn’t said a thing about a car. And whose car?

  She glanced over at her mother who had gotten in and snatched up the reins. Henrietta’s mouth was pressed into such a tight line that her lips had nearly disappeared from her face. She snapped the reins over Gallant’s behind, and the buggy lurched out of the parking spot and onto the road.

  “M-Mamm?” Doris managed to utter.

  “Jordan Lehman?” her mother said hotly. “He’s in jail, Doris. Did you have anything to do with this?”

  Doris had fallen back into the seat. “Me? What do you mean?”

  Henrietta’s gaze bore into her. “You two are courting. Did he say something? Were you there? Did you go riding in a stolen car?”

  “Nee!” Doris had cried. “Of course not.”

  Her mother’s lips all but disappeared again. Doris stared at her and then turned away. What was happening? Jordan in jail? Was he in danger? She had no idea what jails were like. None of them knew. In general, Amish people weren’t put in jail.

  But stealing a car? Why, Jordan, why? her heart cried out.

  Henrietta didn’t say another word on their way home and neither did Doris. How would she find out what really happened? It wasn’t like she could go over to the Lehman’s and say, “Jordan and I are courting so could you kindly tell me why he’s in jail?” Part of her wished that her mother hadn’t whisked them away so fast. Maybe Tessie had more information. But then, she’d been about to faint, so it was probably just as well her mother had gotten her out of there.

  Could she go visit him in jail? Could she see Jordan and ask what had happened?

&n
bsp; Go to the jail? Had she now gone insane? She’d never in a million years be allowed to do that. Could her dad go for her?

  As it turned out, no one in the district seemed to have more information than just the fact that Jordan had been convicted of stealing a car and that he was in jail. His parents, William and Sandy Lehman, were keeping their mouths closed. Even Jordan’s brothers and sister weren’t talking. Likely, they were all humiliated.

  But it didn’t help her know what had happened.

  The entire district was ashamed. One of their own was in jail. Doris’s parents had forbidden her to speak of it in public. They were worried folks would find out Doris was Jordan’s girlfriend. Of course, they were worried, Doris thought bitterly. Public opinion weighed heavily in their lives, and this would be a definite scourge on Doris’s and her family’s reputation.

  Doris didn’t really care. She wanted answers—which she didn’t get.

  After moping about the house for a few weeks, Doris was shipped off to her Aunt Eliza’s house in Hollybrook.

  Which hadn’t turned out so well, either.

  Goodness, but did Doris’s mother think a hundred miles between Doris and Jordan would make a difference in how Doris felt? The very idea was absurd.

  And now, Doris was returning to Linder Creek, and Jordan would be getting out of jail soon. She smiled. When he was out, she would get all her questions answered.

  Maybe Jordan hadn’t even stolen the car. Maybe the whole thing was some horrible mistake.

  “Doris?” called Eliza from the bottom of the stairs.

  Doris quickly refolded Jordan’s letter and tucked it back inside the suitcase lining. She latched the suitcase with a click and kicked it back under the bed.