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

“Don’t be laughing at my sister, child.”

  “I’m not laughing at her exactly.” She shook her head. “Eliza tried to match me up with a local man, it’s true. But he was already sweet on someone else. He told me so. It was doomed from the start.”

  “Eliza never told me that. She said you went out riding with him.”

  “I did. But only once. And while he was showing me around Hollybrook, he told me he was sweet on Leora Fisher. Well, in truth, I guessed it. You should have seen his face, Mamm, when we picked her up to give her a ride to work.” Doris smiled at the memory. “Smitten, he is. Completely smitten.”

  Henrietta smiled, in spite of herself. “Eliza seemed to think—”

  “I know she did. She was disappointed. I think she expected Noah to fall at my feet when he first laid eyes on me and beg me to become his wife.”

  “Ach, Doris. You are terrible.” Her mother’s words echoed Eliza’s.

  Doris laughed. “It’s true, Mamm. You should have heard her.”

  Henrietta shook her head. “I know my sister can be a bit pushy…”

  “A bit?” Doris laughed again.

  “All right, a lot.” Henrietta took Doris’s hand and smiled.

  This was nice, Doris thought. Sitting here and laughing with her mother. And this was the way it had always been before Jordan had gotten himself in trouble. It felt good to have this connection with her mother—even if it wouldn’t last.

  Her mother’s eyes misted over. “I missed you, daughter.”

  “I missed you and everyone else, too.”

  “I’m worried.”

  “I know,” Doris said softly. “But please don’t be. I’m fine.”

  Her mother pulled her hand away and sniffed. She abruptly changed the subject. “Matthew was by earlier.”

  “Was he?”

  “Jah, he wanted to know when you’d be home.”

  “What did you say?”

  “I told him that he could come by this afternoon. I imagine that Verna might come with him. I haven’t chatted with her for a couple of days.”

  “That’ll be nice,” Doris said, hiding her misgivings.

  Kara wandered into the kitchen. “All right, Doris. I moved back in with Sally.”

  “Thank you.”

  Henrietta took her cup and saucer to the sink. “I didn’t think you’d mind if she used your room while you were away.”

  “I don’t mind, but I’m glad to take it back now.”

  Kara grimaced. “I quite liked having my own room.”

  Sally came into the kitchen and joined the conversation. “Soon as Doris gets married, you can have it for gut.”

  Henrietta stiffened. “Doris ain’t getting married anytime soon,” she said, her voice tight. “Now, why don’t you two girls go fetch me some potatoes from the cellar?”

  “All right,” Sally said, and she and Kara left the kitchen.

  “I’m not engaged, Mamm,” Doris said, although she felt as good as engaged considering the conversations she’d had with Jordan.

  “I should hope not,” was all her mother would say.

  Chapter Four

  During the noon meal that day, Matthew ate so quickly his stomach hurt.

  “What’s got into you, boy?” Nathaniel asked while he sopped up some of his gravy with a piece of bread.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’re eatin’ like a house on fire,” Verna said disapprovingly. “You’ll give yourself indigestion.”

  Which was true, his stomach was now gurgling.

  “It’s just so gut,” he said, giving them a sheepish smile. “I had to eat it fast.”

  Nathaniel’s brow lowered. “Don’t seem proper, scarfing down food like that.”

  “Dogs inhale their food,” Verna added. “Gut Christian people ought to savor what the Lord Gott has provided.”

  Matthew leaned back in his chair, forcing himself to relax. “You’re right, Mamm. I’m sorry. Shall I start over?”

  Both Nathaniel and Verna laughed at that.

  “I reckon that would put you straight to bed,” Verna said. Then her face brightened. “Is all this hurry because you want to go see Doris? Is that it?”

  Matthew felt the heat surge to his cheeks, and he made a huge effort to look neutral, if not disinterested.

  “Nee.” He took a drink of milk. “But I did think about going over there to welcome her home.”

  “I’ll go with you,” Verna said. She looked over at Nathaniel. “Are you of a mind to go?”

  He shook his head. “You go on without me. I have some things to do in the barn this afternoon.”

  “You sure? John might enjoy some company.”

  Nathaniel considered this, but then shook his head. “Another day maybe.”

  “So, are you ready to go?” Matthew asked.

  Verna gave him a startled look and tsk-ed her lips. “And leave this mess? Nee, son. I’ll have to red up the kitchen.”

  Matthew only just stopped himself from offering to help, but that would hardly do. If he offered such a thing, suspicions would fly. Redding up the kitchen was women’s work, plain and simple. He’d hardly done a dish in his entire life.

  “All right. I’ll hitch up Blackie, and we’ll be ready when you are.”

  He realized his mistake when both Verna and Nathaniel gaped at him. Despite his efforts, he was still acting too eager to see Doris. He stood.

  “Um, maybe I could help you, Dat, in the barn until Mamm is ready to go.”

  “Sounds more like it,” Nathaniel mumbled as he took one last bite and then stood.

  * * *

  After a good half hour had passed, Matthew started to wonder whether Verna was being deliberately slow that afternoon. Surely, it didn’t take that long to put leftovers away and wash the dishes. He kept glancing through the open barn door toward the house for any sign of her.

  “You checking every ten seconds ain’t going to make her ready any faster,” Nathaniel wryly observed.

  Mathew gave a start. “Ach, I know. I just don’t want her to have to wait for me in the cold.”

  It was a lame excuse, but Nathaniel seemed to accept it. When the side door opened and Verna finally emerged from the house, Matthew stood to attention.

  “Here she is. I’ll see you later, Dat,” he said quickly, pulling on his gloves.

  “Turn on the heater in the buggy, son. The temperature is dropping every minute it seems.”

  “I will. Bye.”

  He ran out front to where Blackie was waiting patiently. Verna had already gotten in the buggy.

  “Didn’t you have the heater going?” she fussed.

  “I’m putting it on now. It won’t take long to heat.” Matthew settled himself in the driver’s seat and switched on the heater. He picked up the reins and snapped them over Blackie’s rump.

  “Maybe you can get more information out of Doris,” Verna said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “About her relationship with that Jordan Lehman. It might set Henrietta’s mind at ease.”

  “You want me to spy on Doris?”

  “Ach, not spy on her, just get some information.”

  Matthew shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Like what?”

  “Like is she still going to write to him? Does he write back? Is she going to see him when he gets out?”

  Matthew held in his irritation. “I s’pose we’ll all see him when he gets out. He does live here, you know.”

  Verna’s gaze flew to his, and her brow crinkled as she studied him. “You’re upset about this too, ain’t so? You hate to see your cousin involved with a criminal.”

  His jaw tightened, but he said nothing.

  “I’m glad to see it. Maybe you can talk some sense into the girl.” Verna clucked her tongue. “I feel right bad for Henrietta. She’s worried sick about all this.”

  Verna smoothed her woolen cape over her lap and went on. “We can’t control everything our kinner do.” She turned to him and p
ut her hand on her arm. “Your father and I are right proud of you, Matthew. We’re proud of the decisions you make and how faithful you are to our ways. You’re a gut boy.”

  A gut boy? Matthew itched to yell out the truth of it, but he didn’t dare.

  What gut boy would be crazy about his own cousin? What gut boy wished he could court his own cousin?

  Shame would have laid him low, but he kept telling himself that he wasn’t really Doris’s cousin. They were no blood between them at all. But in Verna’s and Nathaniel’s mind, he and Doris were completely related. They were cousins just as sure as any blood relatives. Matthew needed to get his emotions under control. He needed to see Doris as a friend only.

  He gritted his teeth, and his grip on the reins tightened.

  He couldn’t bear to ever disappoint Verna and Nathaniel. They had taken him in when he’d had no one. They had raised him as their own, and he knew that Nathaniel planned to leave his farm in Matthew’s possession. He was, for all intents and purposes, their true son.

  Which made Doris his cousin.

  His breath seeped from his clenched jaw. His cousin, his cousin, his cousin. He must remember that and act properly. He squared his shoulders.

  He could never disappoint Verna and Nathaniel.

  Chapter Five

  Doris looked out the kitchen window and saw Matthew’s buggy enter the drive. Her breath hitched, and she wondered again what he knew. Had Verna told him about her and Jordan? If she had, Doris could only imagine Matthew’s reaction. He’d always been so protective of her, caring for her well beyond what she ever expected. This news wouldn’t have gone over well.

  “Matthew’s here,” she called out to her mother, who was in the sewing room. “And I think… Jah, it looks like Verna is with him.”

  Henrietta appeared at the kitchen doorway. “I figured she’d come. Put the kettle on, would you?”

  Doris filled the kettle with water and put it on the cook stove to warm, then she followed her mother out to the front door. Henrietta waited until they heard the buggy pull up to the porch and then she opened the door, letting in a blast of cold air.

  “Verna,” Henrietta called. “Get in here quick-like. It’s freezing today.”

  Doris hung back behind her mother, feeling like a little girl hiding from a stranger behind her mother’s skirts, but she couldn’t stop herself. She dreaded facing Matthew.

  Verna bustled into the house. “You’re right at that. Must be in the low thirties, don’t you think?”

  “Let me take your cape,” Henrietta offered. “Is Matthew unhitching Blackie?”

  “Nee, we won’t be staying that long,” Verna said, handing Henrietta her cape. “Why Doris, it’s right nice to see you, child. How are Eliza and Eli?”

  “They’re fine, Aenti,” she said. “They send their greetings.”

  “And I send them right back.” Verna laughed.

  Matthew came in then, with another whoosh of cold air.

  “Ach, Matthew, get that door shut quick-like,” Verna told him.

  Doris again stood back, wanting to disappear into the woodwork, but she couldn’t avoid Matthew for long. In fact, he walked right up to her.

  “Hello, Doris,” he said, his eyes searching hers. “Welcome home.”

  “Thank you,” she murmured.

  Henrietta and Verna disappeared into the kitchen, leaving the two of them standing there, facing each other.

  “How was your trip?”

  “Fine.”

  They stood awkwardly, and at that moment, Doris was certain he knew. Maybe it was better this way. She wanted to talk to someone about Jordan, and Matthew usually lent a sympathetic ear to her ramblings. At least, he always had before.

  But now, it felt different. He seemed different. Or was it her? Had she changed? That hardly seemed likely. It wasn’t like she’d been gone for months and months.

  “You want some tea? Or some cookies? I think Mamm has some in the cookie jar.”

  He shook his head. “I’m fine.”

  “Uh, did you want to see my brothers?” she asked, knowing full well he didn’t. Matthew rarely came by to spend time with her brothers. He usually just came by to spend time with her.

  “Nee.”

  She gestured toward the front room. “Want to go and sit a spell?” she asked lamely.

  “All right.” He led the way into the front room and sat on the davenport. She followed him and debated whether to sit beside him or across from him on the rocker. Ach, but this was odd. She never used to analyze everything with Matthew. He was her dearest friend.

  She decided to sit beside him, because in the past, that was what she would have done. So she sat down, but the awkwardness between them increased. He cleared his throat and gazed at her, his dark gray eyes probing hers.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” he inquired, and she didn’t need to ask what he was talking about.

  “I don’t know.”

  “I thought we told each other almost everything.”

  “We do,” she said, feeling guilty. Why hadn’t she told him? “I’m sorry.”

  “So, are you still writing each other?”

  And then she realized something. Why hadn’t she thought of it before? “I’ve been writing him,” she said, leaning toward him. “But he can’t write me. So, I don’t really know how he is.”

  “He’s not writing?” Matthew asked, and she thought she saw a glimmer of relief in his eyes. But surely not. In any case, the look vanished.

  “He would, but there’s no way I can receive his letters. If he writes here, Mamm will have a fit. And in Hollybrook, nothing slips by my aenti’s notice. She’s like a bloodhound.” Doris took a breath, expecting Matthew to chuckle, but he didn’t. His face was serious, and he wasn’t moving a muscle.

  “Anyway, it’d be so nice if I knew how Jordan is.” She drew in a breath. “And I think he’s being released soon, but there’s no way to know. I can’t ask his folks. If I could get letters from him, it would help. Maybe…” She hesitated, knowing she was asking a whole lot. “Maybe, if he could write to you…”

  Matthew’s jaw tensed—she saw it. Saw the way his muscle moved at the side of his face. He wasn’t pleased with her. Was he worried about going against her folks and Verna?

  “I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t desperate,” she said, putting her hand on his knee. “Please, Matthew.”

  * * *

  Matthew looked down at her hand and felt the burn of her touch searing through him. She wanted him to help her… To help her with Jordan. No. There was no way. No. He wouldn’t do it. He was hardly willing to accommodate Jordan Lehman.

  “Please, Matthew,” she repeated.

  He plucked her hand from his knee and placed it back in her lap. What he really wanted to do was grab it, entwine his fingers with hers, squeeze her soft hand and tell her to forget about Jordan Lehman.

  But that would never happen.

  He blinked hard and worked to focus back on reality.

  “Are you upset with me?” she asked, her eyes full of worry. “Are you angry? We can’t help who we fall in love with, Matthew…”

  Her words slammed into him. No. A person couldn’t help who they fell in love with. He swallowed and tried to put a smile on his face, but he couldn’t do it.

  “I’m not angry with you, Doris,” he said softly, finally, hearing and hating the tremor in his voice.

  She glanced around him to the doorway of the front room—checking to make sure they weren’t overheard.

  “Then, you’ll do it?” she asked, her eyes full of the fire of hope. “You’ll let him write to you? Well, not write to you, but use your address? When you get a letter, you can just get it to me. It’ll work, Matthew. No one will suspect anything. Can I tell him to do it? Can I?”

  She was actually begging. A sour taste rose in his throat. This wasn’t like Doris—to beg. She was usually a spitfire, full of zest and confidence and humor. Begging like this—it didn’t suit. It ma
de him cringe.

  “I don’t know…” he said, wishing they were talking of anything else.

  “Please, Matthew.” Her eyes had misted over, and the weight of her desire settled like a rock in his gut.

  She loved that fool, Jordan Lehman. And she would never, ever look like that for him. She was his friend, his cousin, and would never be anything more. His heart shattered at that moment. Shattering into jagged shards. He sucked in a breath and braced himself against the pain—the sheer, bitter disappointment of hopeless love.

  He’d always considered Doris to be his somehow. They’d always had something special together, something deep and true and beautiful. They’d always had a connection. Why, he often knew what she was going to say before she said it, and vice versa. But not this time.

  Ach, not this time.

  He couldn’t refuse her. He couldn’t refuse that look in her eye, the way she gazed at him with trust and hope and yearning.

  Yearning. But not for him. No. Not for him.

  “All right,” he said, hating himself for giving in. “All right.”

  She threw herself in his arms then, crushing herself against his chest. His heart cried out, and he couldn’t breathe. He didn’t dare move or he would press her so close that she wouldn’t be able to breathe either. He could smell her sweet scent. Smell her hair beneath her kapp. He felt her breath on his neck, and he ached to press his lips on her forehead, her eyelids, her cheeks, her mouth.

  He stiffened against it, and she let go. There was something in her eyes—a question. Confusion. And then she smiled, and the look disappeared.

  “Thank you, Matthew,” she said. “Ach, thank you so very much.”

  He couldn’t tell her she was welcome. She wasn’t welcome. She wasn’t welcome even the slightest bit.

  Doris’s brother Stuart wandered into the room. Matthew’s eyes widened in alarm. One second earlier, and he would have seen Doris plastered against him.

  “Hey, Matthew. Didn’t know you were here,” Stuart said. “Your folks come, too?”

  “Just Mamm,” Matthew said, clearing his throat. “Dat stayed back with some chores.”