Jonathan strummed the tips of his fingers against the tabletop and took in the serious expression in Amos's eyes. Every time he looked at his little brother, love overwhelmed him. He wanted more than anything for the kid to be able to have a normal life. If only he didn't feel so incapable.
He wished everything was as simple as the child viewed the world. Amos was standing at his side, obviously waiting for Jonathan to take a bite of the iced cookie in the round shape of a Christmas ornament.
Obliging, Jonathan tasted the dessert and nodded satisfaction. “I'm not sure, but I think this might be the best-tasting Christmas cookie ever.”
Amos was quick to nod agreement. “That's 'cause all of Emmie's cookies are practice for the auction.”
Jonathan lifted an inquisitive brow. “Is that what she told you?”
He was quick to offer a proud nod. “
Jah
. She wants the cookies that get money for my surgery to be the best anyone has had. Ever.”
Jonathan pressed his lips together as he considered the admission. To his dismay, it seemed as though Emma was always pushing the fund-raiser. He drew his brows together into a frown.
“Emmie would be sad.”
Amos's voice was edged with disappointment. Jonathan's gaze locked with his dear little brother's. “Why?”
“Her cookies are supposed to make people smile. But they made you frown.”
The little guy was way too perceptive for his age. Jonathan knew Amos wanted to be just like him. Because of that realization, Jonathan forced an optimistic tone.
“Not at all.” He ordered his mouth to smile after chewing another bite of the iced dessert. He would be lying to himself if he said Emma's cookies weren't the best he'd ever eaten. He didn't know what she did to the dough, but whatever it was made the treats score high.
“You're right about what you said.”
Amos looked at him to continue.
“After finishing the cookie, I'm absolutely certain, without a doubt, it wins. It's the most delicious I've ever had.”
The expression on Amos's face turned more serious. He stepped closer, put a small hand in front of his mouth, and spoke in a hushed tone. Jonathan wasn't sure why. Their mother was in her room elsewhere in the house. “Even better than Auntie Elizabeth's?”
Jonathan chuckled and nudged the boy. Smiling, Jonathan pressed a pointer finger to his lips. “But that's just between us.”
Amos's eyes doubled in size. “Really?”
Jonathan nodded. “No one ever has to know.”
Squaring his shoulders, Amos grinned from ear to ear. With one quick motion, he clutched his fingers to his palms and raised his knuckles to meet Jonathan's. “Secret.”
Jonathan met Amos's knuckles with his own. They did it when they shared something important with each other. Jonathan knew that to Amos, a secret meant he would never tell anyone.
Once, when Amos had spotted Jonathan sneaking one of their mother's sponge cakes she'd made for the neighbors, Amos had pledged confidentiality. And he hadn't told a soul.
Jonathan stood to walk him to his room. “It's time for someone to get to bed.”
Amos never argued. The doctors had made it clear to Jonathan how important it was for Amos to get plenty of rest.
“Will you tell me a story?”
Jonathan wrapped an affectionate arm around the child he loved more than life itself. “Which one you wanna hear?”
As Jonathan followed the youngster to his room, Amos turned back to him and started to slip in his socked feet.
“Whoa!”
Jonathan caught him. “Watch where you're going.”
Amos giggled.
Jonathan held Amos's shoulders as they made it to the child's bedroom. As Amos pulled his pajamas from the drawer, Jonathan's thoughts drifted back to Emma.
He considered her “test runs” and smiled. It certainly wasn't difficult to understand why his little brother was so fond of her. It was too bad he didn't agree with her about having the auction. Because there were plenty of things he liked about her, too.
C
HAPTER
3
I
t had become routine for Jonathan to drive Emma home. Usually Amos came with them. She rather enjoyed talking with Amos's brother. As they approached the Yoder home, the sun came out for a moment, causing her to blink. But the moment it appeared, it went away. As usual, they discussed the fund-raiser. And they still disagreed. Again, she tried to convince him why to have it.
Those reasons by far outnumbered any reasons not to. She knew the cost of the surgery was so high, he would never be able to pay for it himself, even with the help of their close community.
After a tense, lengthy silence, she glanced at Jonathan's expression from her peripheral vision. “You know what your problem is?”
He lifted a challenging brow.
“That you've always been healthy. Neither one of us has walked in little Amos's shoes.” She pushed out a deep sigh. “So we could never completely understand what it's like to stay inside all day when your friends play outdoors. Wear a sweater in the middle of summer.”
Jonathan held up a defensive hand. “I think I do.”
She raised her chin a notch. “How could you?”
“When I was Amos's age, I suffered from chronic asthma.” Jonathan's tone was edged with regret. “Thank goodness, I grew out of it. When I was young, I would wake up in the middle of the night gasping for air.”
He paused a moment and looked into the distance. “In fact, I can't count the number of times I awakened my poor parents.”
“Could they help you?”
“Not really. But they tried. They did their best. To my mom, rubbing eucalyptus oil on my chest was the cure-all. It smelled good.”
He chuckled. She joined in the laughter.
“The best medicine I had was a puffer.”
Emma offered an eager nod. “I know what that is.”
“You do?”
“
Jah
. When I visited my cousin at the hospital after her delivery, I saw a woman use one in the waiting area.”
“They certainly come in handy for asthma patients. But what's bad about asthmatics, besides difficulty breathing, is that if they don't get enough rest, they catch things easier.”
She frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Bugs.”
She eyed him.
“They get sick with the snap of two fingers. Trust me, Emma, I was the kid who always had to bundle up. We're talking layers of clothes under my coat. I can't count the number of times I couldn't go out and play with my friends because if damp or cold air got into my lungs . . .” He shrugged. “Forget it. My mom rubbed even more eucalyptus oil onto my chest as I lay in bed.” He gave a frustrated shake of his head. “And with me, it took forever to get well.”
Emma offered an understanding nod. “I'm sorry, Jonathan. It's hard to believe that a big, strong guy like you was ever sick.”
His shoulders straightened. The appreciative expression on his face told her that he enjoyed the compliment.
“Thanks for sharing that with me.”
“You're easy to talk to, Emma. I wish I could open up to Amos and have a heart-to-heart. There are things he needs to know.”
She wondered what he wanted to tell his brother that was so hard to convey. She tried to picture Jonathan in bed. It was difficult to envision. But now that she knew this about him, her opinion of him changed. His admission tugged at her emotions, and despite herself, she liked him even more.
* * *
The auction was two days away. At her dining room table, Emma held the lists of donations in front of her and carefully checked off each name that had been confirmed. She pictured how the tables would be laid out; she had assembled male volunteers in the community to set them up in the cookie tent according to plan.
As she considered the number of events that would be raising money for Amos's surgery, she strummed the bottom of her black ink pen against the lined paper to a nervous beat. She thought of all of the prayers and work that had gone into this. The dreams. Hers, in particular. The day that little Amos's doctor would fix his heart so he could play outside with other kids.
Despite the joy that last realization brought, her pulse pumped to an uneasy pace.
Why? The goal I've worked so hard for is finally going to happen. Why am I not ecstatic?
The sound of Mamma pulling up a chair next to her prompted her to look up. The unpleasant noise of the chair legs gliding across the polished hardwood floor made Emma's brows draw together in a frown. Unable to concentrate, Emma laid her pen on the lists in front of her, crossed her hands over her lap, and looked at Mamma.
“Honey, if you don't smile, those frown lines will make a permanent home around your lips. You're too tense.”
The soft faux warning made the corners of Emma's mouth lift into a half smile. As she locked gazes with her role model, Emma rolled her shoulders to release tension and blew out a deep breath. As she leaned forward, she planted her feet firmly on the floor to scoot closer to her mother.
“You want to talk about it?”
Emma noted the weariness in her own voice when she finally responded. “Oh, Mamma. If only things weren't so complicated.”
“I thought you'd be excited. You've worked harder than anyone to make the auction a reality. Think of all you've accomplished! You've got volunteers. The media is involved. People are donating big items for little Amos. There's even a farmer auctioning off an acre of farmland for the charity. The momentum couldn't be stronger!”
“I know, Mamma. And it will be my dream-come-true when we add up the money and announce that we've got enough for the special surgery.” Emma clutched her hands into fists and closed her eyes as she said those words. “I'm so excited about the auction, but . . .” Emma swallowed and lowered her gaze to the tabletop.
Mamma leaned forward in silence. When she spoke, her voice was so hushed, it was barely more than a whisper. It was edged with both concern and doubt. “What is it, Emma?”
“Mamma, I only wish we had Jonathan on board.”
The woman Emma respected most in the world laid a reassuring hand on Emma's wrist. “Don't you worry about Jonathan. I'm sure that once this is all said and done, he'll be grateful for everything.”
“I don't like going against his wishes. Now that we're so close to having the funds, I feel guilty for being so determined to do the last thing Jonathan wants.”
Mamma cleared her throat. Her touch on Emma became a little firmer. “Honey, do you believe he could have come up with the money on his own?”
Emma smiled a little. “Of course not. Even with our own community helping out, I don't think the surgery could have been paid for.”
“Then don't second guess what you did, honey.” Mamma adjusted in her seat and crossed her legs. When she spoke, the tone of her voice turned firmer. “Emma, you and I both know what self-respect means to Jonathan.”
The remark made Emma giggle.
Her mom smiled relief. “That's what I like to see! My girl's smile.”
The tenseness in Emma's neck began to go away.
“But back to the older Troyer boy. Emma, I'm sure you can understand that the combination of stubbornness and such strong self-respect makes for a difficult man. Mix those traits with all of the talk and publicity surrounding the fund-raiser for his brother's heart surgery, and I imagine Jonathan's having a pretty rough go at it. I know of men like that.”
Before Emma could get a word in, Mamma lifted an amused brow. “My own daddy's one of them. So you can't just look at a man and understand his position without taking in the whole picture of what he's going through. It's not a cut-and-dried situation, unfortunately.”
Emma nodded agreement. “I'm starting to get why he's so hard to work with.”
“I'm sure that after the money's raised, he'll be grateful for all you've done. What everyone has contributed.” Emma considered her mother's optimistic philosophy and offered a half grin. How she hoped Mamma was right.
She didn't like going against Jonathan, that was for sure. At the same time, she loved Amos with all of her heart and yearned for him to be healthy like other kids his age. Every time the little boy wanted to play outside and she had to say no, her heart ached. If God granted her a wish for anything in the world, her request would be for getting her little friend well. No question.
C
HAPTER
4
E
mma darted an inquisitive, hopeful glance at the auction crowd. She looked down to see her shadow outside of the tent in which she stood. The dark spot disappeared immediately when two kids and an adult approached her table.
When the family pointed to the plates of iced cookies, Emma smiled a little. Selling the morsels had been even easier than she anticipated. Christmas was right around the corner, and many would use the treats they purchased for large family gatherings.
She wished she had more to offer; she was sure every cookie would sell, but at the same time, how could she hope for more? The large area of tables showed just how many donations she'd been able to raise. And the dozens of edibles were more iced cookies than she'd ever seen in her life!
A customer broke into her thoughts as he held out a twenty-dollar bill. “Which plate would you like?” she asked.
The middle-aged man shook his head. “No cookies for me. You can just add that to the pot.”
“Thank you, sir.”
After offering an appreciative smile, Emma slipped the bill into the large glass holder that was nearly full. Earlier, the container had been empty. But not now. The green bills of currency would barely go through the top button-like hole. She had to shove the man's donation inside.
This was the fifth container. And there were more. Emma took a couple of steps back to make room for the group of women who entered the cookie area. She smiled a little as she listened to the numerous comments. They made small talk about the surgery to hopefully come and the little boy who needed it to survive.
The plot of land being used for today's event was so packed, Emma could barely see the ground. Fortunately, it wasn't raining or snowing. The combination of a few enclosures and gas heaters kept the grounds comfortably warm.
As she took in the energy surrounding her, Emma's pulse beat to an uncertain pace as the bright sun smiled down on Arthur, Illinois. God had blessed them with an unusually calm, sunny day for the third week in December.
Everything about the fund-raiser contributed to the aura of excitement. The air smelled of grilled hamburgers, hot dogs, and a mixture of delicious-smelling foods. In the distance, she took in the old woman making saltwater taffy in a small wooden booth.
People held plastic cups of homemade lemonade. As they sipped beverages through their straws, Emma glimpsed the auctioneer, who was testing the microphone and checking things off on the notepad in front of him.
Emma's heart skipped a beat as reality set in. Donations from her cookies looked like a lot in the clear glass jars, but she knew that the amount from her treats wouldn't make a dent in the surgery bill and the therapy to follow. She took a deep breath to calm herself and contemplated what was about to take place on the center stage.
Truly, today's success was dependent on the large donations that would come in from the expensive items under the large tent several hundred yards away. She squeezed her eyes closed to say a quick prayer. “Dear Lord, only You can help us get the money needed to fix little Amos's heart. Please bless us with what we need. Amen.”
Word of mouth had it that over fifteen hundred had shown up in support of her dear little friend. Some had driven hours to offer money and support for the cause. So many different conversations took place that the voices had morphed into one solid loud sound.
A lady wearing an oversized red floppy hat asked Emma to help her package several dozen cookies. A sigh of gratitude escaped Emma's throat as the woman handed her a hundred dollars. As Emma stashed the single bill into the jar, she thanked her.
Emma motioned for one of the men nearby to help the generous donor carry the treats to her car. Emma would have loved to assist, but she had to stay at the tent. If the momentum had anything to do with the amount of revenue being brought in, they should raise enough funds for little Amos's procedure. Of course, she was a positive thinker.
She pressed her lips together and drew in a breath. Children about the age of Amos chased each other in games of tag. Mothers attempted to watch their kids at the same time they bid for furniture and other items up for grabs.
Emma smiled a little at the thought that soon, Amos would be as healthy as the little ones she watched with amazement. She wondered what it would feel like for him to chase his friends while hollering and screaming. To act like a kid instead of a cautious, restricted person.
That very realization prompted a lone tear. But as quickly as the moisture made its way down Emma's face, she caught it with her hand and focused on what made her believe little Amos would soon join a different club.
A club that couldn't care less whether he forgot to snap his coat at the neck. A new life for the special boy was about to unfold right in front of them. And it was because of the people here today. It was also due to the media attention and the Internet bids that would hopefully surpass her wildest dreams.
Emma pushed back a rebellious strand of hair that broke loose from her
kapp
. At the same time, she eyed her displays of iced stars to make sure the plastic coverings were still neatly tucked underneath the trays.
At least half of the cookies had already sold. And almost everyone who'd purchased had contributed generously. She regarded the huge number of folks who rapidly increased and prayed that the rest of the treats would bring as much revenue as the first half had.
Church friends worked in tents surrounding hers. Donations were pouring in from the Internet site set up by English friends. Emma smiled a little.
She turned her attention to the women approaching one of her tables. They were well-dressed. Because she didn't recognize them, she guessed that they were from out of town.
She glanced around the huge crowd of hundreds and wondered whether Jonathan would show up. She hoped he wouldâand that God would work through him to change his mind about today.
* * *
Late that afternoon, Emma pushed out a sigh that was an odd combination of high energy and sheer exhaustion. The moment she ran a clean white rag over the last table, the tent team folded the metal legs and carried it to the large stack nearby.
The cleanup phase had kicked in. As Emma caught her breath, she considered the numerous tasks going on simultaneously.
As she organized her area, crews worked in full force. A couple of guys with long metal sticks scoured the grounds, stabbing litter and eventually discarding trash into large plastic bags.
At the same time, another team carefully calculated funds to be paid by buyers who had purchased various items at the live auction.
Amish and non-Amish men from the hardworking community and surrounding areas carried furniture from the master platform to vehicles lined up in a long-winding queue close to the grounds. Others helped to disassemble tents and booths. The publicity committee took down posters and signs.
Dull sounds of running engines filled the air as drivers pulled trucks and trailers closer to the loading zone. A rush of uncertainty and anxiousness swept up Emma's spine with one swift, desperate motion and landed at the base of her neck. But she didn't try to rid herself of it. Instead, she savored the sensation of finality.
She considered all that had transpired during the past couple of months and pushed out a satisfied sigh. She had done everything within her power to raise money for the delicate and unique procedure that Amos needed to stay alive.
At this point, the outcome was out of her hands. She rested a set of satisfied palms on her hips and smiled.
Mamma's voice was a welcome interruption. Emma turned and took in her mother's immaculate appearance.
As usual, Mamma wore a long-sleeved navy-colored dress. Emma pulled in a small sigh, wishing that she was half as perfect as her role model.
“The Lord is lookin' out for us. Here, honey.” Mamma waved to nearby banners draped over two metal chairs. “Let me give you a hand.”
“Thanks, Mamma.” As if on cue, they each folded their ends together and stepped forward to meet each other, where Emma collected Mamma's part and gave the material a final fold. Emma wasn't sure whether the signs would be used again, but so much had gone into making the large, eye-catching advertisements, it seemed a shame to throw them away.
Automatically, Emma and her mother continued what needed to be done before leaving the auction site. While she worked, Emma's thoughts traveled like the speed of light. One thing in particular nagged at her. One certain question pained her until she put it out in the open. “Mamma, I can't wait to find out how much money we raised today! What have you heard?”
“There's talk that the donations went through the roof.” Mamma laughed as she waved her hands. “Or through the tents.”
They giggled.
“Word has it that the Internet site brought in an astounding amount. It's amazing how much compassion people have when it comes to little Amos.”
Emma's heart warmed. “It certainly was a pleasant surprise to hear of the donations that poured in at the last minute.”
“Especially the one from the King family.”
“
Jah
.”
Mamma shrugged. “I'm not surprised, really. Eli has always been ultra-generous. 'Course, he lost his grandson a couple years back when that driver hit their family buggy. Such a shame.”
“And the boy was the same age as Amos.”
Mamma gave a big nod. “
Jah
. It goes without saying that little Amos's heart condition must've hit home pretty hard.”
“But what on earth will Eli do with ten dozen cookies?”
Mamma shrugged. “They've got a big clan, those Kings. Ten kids and there must be close to a thousand grandkids and great-grandchildren,” she joked.
“And if rumor turns out to be true, everyone's gonna be at their house for Christmas. I'd be willing to bet that those iced stars go fast.”
“They'd better build an addition. Otherwise, they're gonna be shoulder to shoulder.”
“It must be every mamma's dream to have a large, happy family like that.”
Mamma nodded.
To Emma's surprise, a male piped in on their conversation. Emma looked in the direction of the voice to glimpse Marvin Beiler making his way toward them. His shirtsleeves were rolled up to his elbows. Extra-wide suspenders fought to keep his dress pants up over his well-fed midsection.
He wagged a finger. “It's too much money.”
Emma looked at him to clarify.
Marvin went on. “We can't raise enough green stuff for this surgery in one single auction.”
Emma glanced at her mother in time to see a light brown brow raise. Emma followed suit. “Now, Marvin, you've got to admit that we couldn't have asked for a better turnout. You saw for yourself how much support little Amos has. What more can we do to convince you that this day was nothing less than a success?”
In a gruff voice, he supported his claim. “There's no way to be sure what actually materialized until we have the Internet funds that are bein' looked at as we speak.”
Emma jumped in. Although she tried to keep her tone positive, she couldn't stop the harshness that edged her voice. It was common knowledge in the community that Marvin was the voice of doom. Why let him get the best of her?
Mamma had taught Emma to see the glass as half-full. It was the only way to be satisfied. And she was certain that God must like positive folks more than those without faith. To Emma's dismay, the man standing between her and Mamma was a downer.
Emma tapped the toe of her sturdy black shoe against the hard earth. At the same time, she gave a dissatisfied roll of her eyes.
From Emma's peripheral vision, she glimpsed Mamma eyeing her. The expression Emma knew all too well prompted the corners of her lips to turn upward into a smile. In reaction, Mamma grinned amusement.
In her silent code, Mamma had just warned Emma not to let Marvin get to her by a slight furrowing of her brows and by curving her lips in the way that she'd done for years.
Emma giggled.
“What's so funny?”
Emma took in Marvin's annoyed tone with a sense of humor. Mamma darted Emma a quick wink. The last thing she wanted was to appear rude.
Emma lifted her palms to the darkening sky. “I feel it. Marvin, I have faith that God will come through for us.”
Marvin's jaw dropped in surprise. Emma had always been taught to respect her elders, so she lowered the pitch of her voice to a more sympathetic, understanding tone to qualm any doubt that she was disrespecting him.
“Marvin, you're a good church man.”
He lifted his chin a notch.
“You surely don't think God would actually deny little Amos his heart procedure?”
Marvin reacted to the suggestion by rubbing his fist against his chin. Several moments went by without a response. He finally shrugged. One of his suspenders had worked its way off his shoulder.
As if feeling the need to defend himself, he wagged a finger at Emma. “Don't forget that the supporters only have till midnight to come through with their promises. We have yet to get the largest donation of a hundred thousand dollars.”
For a surprised moment, Emma lost her voice. She knew her eyes must have doubled in size as she digested the news. Not sure how to respond, an unexpected knot that blocked her throat stopped her from trying. Finally she got out her words. “A hundred thousand dollars?”
Marvin offered a nod. “The news came in last night. I'm surprised you didn't hearâit was a pleasant surprise. But the donor's anonymous. Hope this isn't a prank. Could be some dreamer. Or maybe someone wanted to impress everyone with his generosity. Who knows?”