Chapter 1

Chapter 1

December 23

O nce again, the Troyer homestead looked pristine and bare compared to its brightly lit and festooned neighbors' homes just outside of Wooster. The only signs that Christmas was approaching were the numerous pine boughs decorating the fence line, barn door, and front porch railing. Each of the evergreen branches was attached with a piece of burlap tied in a bow at regular intervals.

Though Brandt Holden imagined some of the Amish family's stricter neighbors and friends might find fault with even this small amount of decorating, he thought it was perfect. The freshly cut pine smelled wonderful and the burlap bows lent a homespun charm to the sprawling farm.

It also made the white farmhouse look especially welcoming.

After parking his truck in the designated area west of the barn, Brandt grabbed his duffel bag. Not bothering to lock the truck, he headed toward the house along the gravel path that was lightly covered with snow.

The closer he got to the house, the more Brandt felt his shoulders relax. He'd made it back.

This wasn't his home. It wasn't even his extended family's home. In addition, he wasn't Amish and he didn't actually know much about the Amish faith—except that the Amish didn't use electricity and drove horses and buggies. He was an Englischer—the usual Amish way of referring to anyone not Amish through and through.

None of those things mattered, though. This farm was where he wanted to spend Christmas. In spite of their many differences, this large, unwieldy, extended family made him feel like he belonged.

He hadn't felt that way in a long time.

The front door opened before he'd made it to the porch's first step.

"Brandt! You're here!" Abel Troyer called out as he quickly shut the door behind him to keep out the cold. As he stepped forward in his overalls, thick green shirt, and worn Red Wing boots, the middle-aged man's blue eyes, faded blond hair and beard were a welcome sight. From the first time they'd met, Brandt had liked the father of his Amish friend Mark. Abel was a larger-than-life presence. In short, he was a force to be reckoned with.

He was also tall and had a deep, bullfrog voice.

As far as Brandt was concerned, the man's name suited him perfectly. Abel could do almost anything—and did. He managed a four-hundred-acre farm, four children, a menagerie of animals, and was even a partner in a number of businesses in the area. Somehow, the man made it all look easy, too. To top that off, his talents included greeting wayward friends who had nowhere else to go for the holiday.

Even his son's friends.

Stomping down the stairs, the burly man grinned brightly. "I'm mighty glad to see ya again." Looking Brandt over, he added, "You are looking fit as ever, son. The weight you've put on suits you."

Even though Brandt was a little worried that maybe Abel thought he was looking a little thick around the waistline, he decided to take his words as a compliment. "Thank you."

Holding out his hand, he continued. "It's good to see you too, sir. Thank you for allowing me to join your family again." Sure, he sounded awkward, but what could he do? It might not be easy for him to display the warmth and affection that Abel and his wife Annie did, but he hadn't been raised by animals. His parents had taught him good manners.

Not that Abel noticed. His eyes glowered above his fluffy beard. "What did I tell ya last year when you began with all that foolishness?"

"Not to call you sir ."

"You've either got rocks in that big brain of yours or you're of a mind to be stubborn." Still not cracking a smile, he propped his hands on his hips for good measure. "Which is it?"

Still not used to the Amish man's way of joking around about almost everything, Brandt froze as he debated the right way to respond.

"Leave him alone, Daed," Mark said as he joined his father. "You know Brandt isn't sure how to respond to your teasing."

Abel wrinkled his nose. "I don't know that I was teasing him."

" Daed. Halt , or I'll tell Mamm."

Immediately, Mark's father looked sheepish. "I apologize, son," he said to Brandt. "I promised my kinner I'd try not to be quite so loud and pushy this year. Elizabeth, especially, has said she's had enough of me frightening her friends."

Though Brandt privately thought that Mark's oldest sister was a bit of a spoilsport, he reckoned she might have a point. "It's okay," he said quickly. "I'll do my best to leave off that sir the rest of this weekend . . . as long as you don't tell my mother if your paths happen to cross."

"That's a deal I can agree to." He shook Brandt's hand at last, clapped Mark on the back, and then continued on his way to the barn.

Brandt grinned at Mark. "It's good to see you," he said, taking in Mark's dark red hair, the spattering of freckles on his nose, and his thick canvas pants, blue shirt, and sweatshirt. "It's been too long."

Mark grinned widely, revealing a gap between his two front teeth. "It sure has. I couldn't believe it when our plans to get together over the summer fell through."

"That was a bummer, but it couldn't be helped." They'd both had too many obligations to get away to Brandt's parents' summer cottage on Lake Erie.

"No worries. All that matters is that you got here. At last."

"At last?"

" Jah . Most everyone else arrived two days ago. You shouldn't have waited so long. And don't even try to tell me that you had work. I know you've been on break."

Brandt was a guidance counselor at his local high school. While it was true that the students had two whole weeks off, he usually worked a few extra days, especially since a lot of students were in the middle of college applications or applying for summer internships or extracurricular courses.

So he had been busy.

But that wasn't the reason he'd waited. He hadn't wanted to get in the way. "I'm already interloping."

"You aren't. Not at all. Everyone has been asking about you."

"Better that than wondering when I'm going to leave, huh?"

Mark shook his head. "You are nothing if not modest." After eyeing Brandt's duffel bag, he glanced at his friend's truck. "Where's the rest of your stuff?"

"I've got a coat, my cooler, and a box of gifts in the back of the cab."

"Let's get 'em now." Mark pulled open the passenger door, reached for the cooler, and hefted it out. "This is actually the real reason we were looking for you, buddy."

"Don't worry, I didn't think you invited me here for any other reason than to support your soda addiction."

"So, you did bring me some Dew?"

"Yep." Inside the large cooler was a twelve-pack of Mountain Dew—Mark's favorite vice. Also inside was a large box of See's Candies for Mark's mother, and a plastic container of chocolate eclairs for Tricia. He'd gone to the bakery just that morning to pick them up.

Just thinking about Mark's cousin Tricia made his insides warm. Unable to stop himself, he asked, "Is Tricia here yet?"

"She is. Why?"

"Oh, no reason. I, um, just was curious," he said in what he hoped was a cool and collected tone.

"Uh-huh."

Since Mark was smirking, it was obvious that he'd sounded anything but cool. "Guess I can't fool you, huh?"

Picking up the cooler while Brandt grabbed hold of his duffel and coat, Mark chuckled. "Not even for a second. You might be here because we've been friends forever, but there's only one reason you wouldn't miss this reunion for the world, Brandt Holden. And that reason has brown hair, brown eyes . . . and has been eager to see you too."

Brandt didn't attempt to hide the grin that no doubt spread across his face. It would have been impossible to do, anyway.