A Swiss Amish Christmas Collection

By Tattie Maggard

An Amish Christmas Romance Collection You Won't Want To Miss!

I Hear Christmas
What’s more important—what everyone else thinks, or what you hear from your heart?
Joy Schwartz has always loved to sing, ever since she was little and her teacher taught her to yodel. She’s thrilled when she’s asked to help with the Christmas program the Amish school is putting on—even more so when she finds Lucas Wickey has also volunteered to help.

Despite being “slow,” Lucas can sing better than anyone in Swan Creek Settlement. As her feelings for him grow, she must decide what’s more important—what everyone else thinks, or what she’s hearing from her heart.

A Christmas Courtship
Three generations of Swiss Amish courtship practices come together to make this touching, yet humorous romance.
When a house fire brings her ex-beau’s family to live with her temporarily, Tabitha Hilty is forced to confront the reasons she and Isaac broke ties in the first place. But in a house full of seventeen people—two suffering from dementia, and a pet squirrel to boot—there’s no room for petty squabbles. The tight living arrangement will either force forgiveness, or ruin everyone’s Christmas. Or will she find there’s a spark left in their relationship after all?

The Christmas Stranger
The Englisher was the perfect person to help her leave, only he had secrets of his own.
Maddie Graber has had it with farm life and is moving to Asheville. Ever since her brother Thomas left her with all his chores she’s been thinking on it. But when Dat hires an Englisher to be his new farm hand, Maddie begins to second-guess her decision. Life on the farm is no longer boring, but can the stranger fix everything else that’s wrong with the place, and will he capture her heart in the process?

Get all three Amish romances in one box set!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tattie Maggard
• Release date: Apr 7, 2020
• ISBN: 9780463932698

Tattie Maggard

Tattie Maggard lives near Swan Creek, just south of a Swiss Amish community in rural Missouri. When she’s not chasing black bears from her yard, she’s writing Amish romance, homeschooling her daughter, or playing an old tune on the ukulele.Visit her website at www.tattiemaggard.com

Book preview

A Swiss Amish Christmas Collection

Praise For A Swiss Amish Christmas

Great story of love and forgiveness. I so enjoy reading about the Swiss Amish who I had no idea even existed before Ms. Maggard started writing her wonderful books.

eBook Reviewer

"I sure do enjoy reading Ms Tattie Maggard’s stories, I’m an old softy and I find myself crying and laughing at the same time, my wife thinks I’ve lost it. Just please keep writing."

eBook Reviewer

A Swiss Amish Christmas Collection

Tattie Maggard

Five Porches Press

Copyright © 2017 by Tattie Maggard. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior permission in writing of the publisher, nor be circulated in writing of any publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published without a similar condition including this condition, being imposed on the subsequent purchaser. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. All scriptures taken from the King James Version of the Bible unless otherwise indicated. Rights to the King James Bible in the United Kingdom are vested in the Crown and administered by Cambridge University Press, the Crown's patentee.

Contents

I Hear Christmas

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

A Christmas Courtship

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

The Christmas Stranger

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

About the Author

Also By Tattie Maggard

I Hear Christmas

And whatsoever ye do, do it heartily, as to the Lord, and not unto men.

Colossians 3:23 KJV

Chapter 1

Joy Schwartz removed her mittens and rubbed her hands together over the pot-bellied stove. It had been years since she’d been in the one-room Amish schoolhouse, but everything appeared strangely the same, if only a bit smaller now that she was an adult. The desks, neatly arranged in rows, sat just as the children had left them that afternoon—chairs pushed in, books tucked inside. The bare floor was swept clean by that day’s designated pupil. The bookshelf along the back of the room held the same books, yet it seemed a lifetime ago that Joy had opened any of them.

Even the school teacher brought on feelings of nostalgia. Emily Graber seemed almost a foot shorter now as she entered the room in the same commanding way, taking her place at the desk in front of the room. Had Joy really grown that much since she’d seen her last?

So glad you could make it, Joy. This is going to be a lot of work, and I’m relieved to have your help. You were always one of my very best voices.

Joy smiled. She had suspected so, but it was never said. As Miss Graber had always told them, Singing isn’t a competition, it’s a joyful noise you make unto the Lord.

Joy had reminded herself of those words many times over the years when she heard some of the others in the community trying to squawk out the Ausbund on church Sundays. Still, she stood a little straighter as she walked across the room to stand in front of the woman she respected so greatly.

It was Miss Graber who had taught her to sing. Sure, Mama had given her a good beginning, but it was Miss Graber—the pretty, red-headed school teacher—who had helped her learn what to do to make her voice free to yodel and how to hit the high notes when they sang Amazing Grace.

It’s my pleasure to help any way I can. Joy felt excitement welling up inside her. I can already tell this is going to be the best Christmas program ever.

Well, I certainly welcome your enthusiasm. Her eyes darted around the empty room. I just hope more volunteers show up. The children can do most of the decorating, but we’ll need adults to corral them and… Miss Graber pressed her lips together a second. They need instruction. This group just doesn’t have the desire to sing like the class you graduated with.

Joy thought of her classmates. Almost all of them were married now, some with chinda of their own—much too busy to help out with a school program. A twinge of jealousy pricked her heart. Joy was twenty-two and headed into old maid territory. At least that’s what Mama had been telling her. When she’d heard the school needed help putting on a Christmas program, Mama had encouraged her to volunteer instead of remaining at home and finishing her winter quilt. It seemed Mama had been pushing her out of the house at every available opportunity.

You won’t meet your husband sitting in the house, she’d say. She supposed Mama was right, but she doubted she’d meet her husband volunteering at the school, either. From the looks of it, Joy was the only volunteer.

This may be it, Miss Graber said with a frown, glancing at the clock on the wall. We may as well get started. She sighed before she began, Last year we started out with a chorus and then led into Katy’s solo. Well, Katy’s busy this year, so I was thinking about— The door creaked open so suddenly it stopped Miss Graber from finishing her sentence.

In walked Lucas Wickey, closing the door behind him. He paused at the sight of Joy and Miss Graber, then, after making eye contact with Joy for a brief second, strode toward them with his straw hat in hand, his heavy boots clacking across the hardwood floor.

May I help you? Miss Graber asked.

Is this the school program meeting? he asked in a low voice, his head lowered.

Ja, she said.

I’m here to volunteer. His eyes were set on the floor. He cleared his throat loudly.

Miss Graber shot a look at Joy, raising her eyebrows in surprise, her bright blue eyes not hiding her delight. That’s…wonderful. We can use all the help we can get. She stood. My name is Emily Graber, do you know Joy Schwartz? She held her hand out.

He shook her hand then turned to Joy. Lucas, he said, shaking Joy’s hand now. Lucas Wickey. His eyes met hers for only a split second, but Joy was surprised to discover they were a soft shade of brown. She’d only ever seen him at a distance and had always thought his eyes were darker, like the rest of his siblings. His slightly messy, medium-brown hair curled on the base of his neck, and parted slightly in the middle, leaving a few strands on each side touching just below his bushy eyebrows. He had let his sideburns grow partway down, but the rest of his face was clean-shaven, and Joy had to admit he was pleasant to look upon, even if he wasn’t the kind of person she’d want to marry.

Lucas Wickey was one of the few people Joy’s age who hadn’t attended the Swiss Amish school. His parents had sent him to the public school in Asheville during the first primary year when the teacher, Miss Miller at the time, said he had a learning disability she couldn’t contend with. He continued through eighth-grade, even though all his brothers and sisters had been educated in the Amish schoolhouse in Swan Creek Settlement.

Joy had always wanted to know more about him, but felt it was inappropriate to ask. Years ago, she’d heard someone ask one of Lucas’s sisters how he was, and had promptly been told to mind their own business.

Am I late? he asked, his eyes darting around the room.

No, you’re not late at all, Miss Graber said. We were just getting started. Weren’t we, Joy? She sat back down in her chair behind the desk.

Yes’m, Joy said before thinking. She supposed now that Miss Graber wasn’t her teacher anymore she should stop acting like a student, but there was something about the confident way Miss Graber carried herself that made Joy feel more like a mately than a grown woman.

Miss Graber picked up her pencil and began tapping the eraser softly on the desk. I was thinking we could sing our usual Christmas hymns with scripture readings between, but we’ll need to work with the children to make it all sound nice. Do you sing, Lucas?

Lucas shifted his weight where he stood. Sometimes.

Miss Graber paused. Well, I need to know what jobs to give you both. She sighed and gave a slight smile. Let’s hear it. She stood and leafed through a stack of papers on the side of her wide desk until she pulled one out and handed it to Lucas. Miss Graber pointed from Lucas to Joy and back, indicating they should share.

Where are the notes? Lucas asked, staring at the page.

Don’t you know the song? Miss Graber answered.

He nodded, and after a pause, he opened his mouth. It came upon a midnight clear… From his throat came a voice so rich and clear that both of the women’s eyes widened under a tense glance.

Joy was so surprised at the beautiful sound coming from the mysterious man beside her she almost forgot to sing with him. His voice was deep, which wasn’t surprising considering his wide shoulders. Joy had found most wide-shouldered men had deeper voices, but Lucas’s wasn’t annoyingly deep; nothing like old man Lengacher who sounded like a bullfrog serenading the pond on a summer night. Lucas’s was so smooth, and…controlled. After the first verse she hoped he’d continue, and to her pleasure he did.

They sang the entire song together and when it was done, Miss Graber wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. That was beautiful, she said, simply beautiful. You two are going to teach this class to sing and it’s going to be the best Christmas program ever. She clapped her hands together and held them to her mouth, smiling widely behind them.

The spicy smell of chili greeted Joy as she walked into the kitchen. Mama? she called.

In here, dear. Mama strolled in from the living room carrying a threaded needle.

What are you doing? Joy asked. It wasn’t mending day.

"Oh, just sewing up your vater’s coat. He ripped it at the auction today. Did you have a guete time?"

Ja. Joy sat down at the table, trying hard to remain quiet, knowing Mama would pry it out of her without having to sound like a bubbly schoolgirl.

That’s nice, dear. Mama set the needle down on the table and stirred the chili, the steam rising from the large pot when she lifted the lid.

Joy waited patiently. "It’s going to be a guete program. I can already tell."

That sounds lovely. Mama replaced the lid then picked up her needle again and headed for the coat hanging on the hook by the kitchen door. She sat down with it in the chair beside Joy.

Joy waited as long as she could, but finally, like a dam bursting, she let it all out. Lucas Wickey was there and he can sing like you wouldn’t believe, Mama. Like an angel! Miss Graber cried and everything, it was so beautiful. Joy remembered the goosebumps that formed on her arms while standing next to him as he sang.

Mama snickered. "Well, you did have a guete time, didn’t you?" She pulled the needle through the fabric of Vater’s black coat. Lucas Wickey, huh? Isn’t he the slow one?

Joy’s heart sank. She would have to bring that up. Oh, Mama, you shouldn’t say that. He may learn differently, but he seems fine to me. Joy had heard worse terms used to describe Lucas. At least she hadn’t called him a retard as some of the elderly women in the community referred to him. And although they had otherwise spoken kindly of him, the term was outdated, not to mention completely insensitive.

Mama shrugged her shoulders. Well, I didn’t mean anything bad by it.

Joy knew her mueter had meant no harm, but the need to defend Lucas was still strong, though she wondered why. The only thing she really knew about him was that he could sing, but from what she saw of him today, he wasn’t different from anyone else otherwise, unless you counted being shy. Who cared what kind of marks he made in school? She enjoyed singing with him, and that was enough for him to be incredibly interesting. She didn’t know anyone in the settlement who could sing like that. Ja, the next few weeks would be much more fun than finishing her winter quilt.

Chapter 2

Tap, tap—tap, tap, tap. The rhythmic sound of Lucas’s fingers softly drumming on the desk had Joy’s full attention. It wasn’t like when Miss Graber tapped her pencil eraser; this was musical in nature. He stopped suddenly, and Joy’s eyes climbed to his face to see why. His solid, brown-eyed stare indicated his awareness of her gawking. Heat rose in her cheeks as her eyes darted away.

Miss Graber cleared her throat, gaining the attention of the room. Class, if you don’t already know their names, this is Joy and Lucas. They will be helping you practice for our Christmas program. I’m going to take those of you who are eight and under to work on some special decorations, while Joy works with the girls and Lucas works with the boys. Please be on your best behavior, and mind your new song leaders. Miss Graber took the young children to one side of the room and began pulling out craft supplies from long plastic tubs on the shelf.

Joy glanced at Lucas. He didn’t seem to be anxious to direct, as he remained sitting.

Joy addressed the remaining students with a pointed finger. All right. Girls to this side, and boys to the other. She watched as they all shuffled about, over thirty children of varying heights. Joy took a stack of papers Miss Graber had left for her and began passing out the song packets to each child. "Let’s start with the first page, Silent Night." Joy tried to sound confident like Miss Graber would, but Joy wasn’t used to leading, and it showed in her slightly shaky voice.

When all the children had a packet there was only one remaining. I guess we’ll have to share, she said to Lucas. She watched him reluctantly stand and join her in front of the long line of students. Joy began singing, Silent night…holy night, and everyone soon followed except Lucas, who had a finger pressed to one ear and a disgusted look on his scrunched up face; one eye squinted shut.

Her shoulders sagged, but it’d come as no surprise to Joy; she’d seen him behave this way a time or two before, during church services. Only today she’d hoped in her heart he had better manners hidden in there somewhere. And perhaps he still did. So, the man had sensitive ears. Was that any reason to discount him?

After the first verse, Joy motioned for the children to continue while she whispered to him, The boys need a male voice to follow.

He took a deep breath, as if contemplating the decision. Then he opened his mouth and sang along quietly, emphasizing the parts the group had the most trouble with.

The man could sing like an angel, but for some reason he held back. Didn’t he want to sing for the Lord and teach others to do so, too? So what if they weren’t perfect singers, wasn’t that the reason she and Lucas were volunteering?

After practice, refreshments were served: iced cookies in red and green, peppermint truffles, peanut brittle, and punch. Lucas sat on the edge of a student’s desk while everyone moved about, chattering around the room as they each took a drink and a dessert and headed out to meet their parents waiting outside. Joy watched Lucas speak to a young girl but was unsure what the conversation was about. He sat up straight and the girl got a strange look on her face. Joy’s curiosity piqued. She walked over, cookie in hand.

Is everything okay, Millie? she asked.

Ja, the young girl said, her brows furled. Then she hurried past the refreshment table and out the door.

What did you say to her? Joy asked.

She asked me how I liked the singing and I told her some of her notes were flat.

Joy’s mouth dropped open. Why would you say that?

Because it was…true? Lucas’s hard eyes searched her face. I’ve said something wrong, he said matter-of-factly. He stood up straight. I knew this was a bad idea.

Joy watched Lucas exit the schoolhouse without giving her time to stop him. What had she done? She had hoped it wasn’t as bad as she’d heard whispered; that maybe Lucas Wickey wasn’t slow-witted, but wishful thinking hadn’t changed anything.

He was rude, brutally honest, and his body language inconsistent, with bashful eyes one moment and blatantly boring a hole through her the next. But it wasn’t his fault he wasn’t like everyone else.

With a heavy heart, Joy stepped outside. She could clear things up with Millie at the next practice, but what about Lucas? Would he be back? It must have been so hard for him to come and volunteer, never having attended the school in the first place—which begged the question, why had he come?

It was so strange, Mama. It was like he had no idea he was being rude. Joy measured out a third cup of maple syrup and two-thirds cup of peanut butter into a bowl.

I told you he was slow. That was why they wouldn’t let him go to the community school. Mama quickly put in two tablespoons each of cocoa powder and flaxseed meal into the bowl Joy was stirring.

But there’s more to him than that, Mama. He’s not dumb. And wow, can he sing. Joy took a small glass bottle of vanilla extract down from the cabinet and handed it to her mueter, remembering the sound of Lucas’s voice when it blended with hers and the feeling of being a part of something much greater.

Mama threw a capful of the dark liquid into the bowl and handed it back. Then she shook a bit of salt into her palm and rubbed her hands together over the bowl. You’re not getting ideas about Lucas Wickey, are you? Mama’s eyebrows were up as high as they could go.

Nay, Joy said softly, though now that her mueter had mentioned it, she felt conflicted by compassion and something else she couldn’t identify.

She pulled a box of bran flakes from the cabinet, her favorite cereal. Mama took the box from her and shook out about a half cup in another bowl and began crushing it with her fingers.

I know you, Joy Schwartz. You’re looking for someone you can fix, and that’s not how you pick a husband.

Joy returned the box of cereal to the cabinet, beginning to wish she’d not said so much about Lucas Wickey in the first place. It’s not like that at all, Mama. I just feel bad because I may have offended him. All he was trying to do was to help—and it’s Christmas!

Mama mixed the crushed cereal into the peanut butter mixture and began spooning out small balls to roll in coconut flakes and mini chocolate chips in another small bowl. "It’s your life, Joy, but I doubt you want a husband who doesn’t even know how not to hurt a person’s feelings. A man who can’t feel any emotions is a strange one, at best."

No one is talking marriage, she said, her voice a high-pitched whine. Couldn’t she have an interaction with a man that wasn’t supposed to end in a proposal? Of course she couldn’t marry Lucas Wickey. She remained quiet while she finished working, having already said too much.

Joy set the plate of peanut butter balls in the gas-powered refrigerator. Still, she wondered if her mueter was right. Was Lucas incapable of feeling?

The Wickey family didn’t have a lot—not that Joy’s family was rich, but her vater always had