Lovina's Amish Christmas

By Hannah Winstone

Lovina wants this to be the best Christmas ever. She wants this despite the fact that her marriage with Luke is fraying at the edges. Murphy's Law hits as well as everything seems to go wrong in preparation for a Christmas day; her kids become ill, her parents are fighting and Luke won't talk...Will Gott make everything okay come Christmas night?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trellis Publishing
• Release date: Jul 16, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201175009

Book preview

LOVINA’S AMISH CHRISTMAS

HANNAH WINSTONE

TABLE OF CONTENTS

LOVINA’S AMISH CHRISTMAS

LOVE AT WHITMAN RANCH

LONE MOON RANCH

THE SEAMSTRESS

Lovina snapped awake, bleary eyes blinking open as she cracked out a yawn. Something was wrong, a faint sense that the house wasn't as it should have been. She sat up, eyes darting down to the solid figure of her husband buried deep underneath the blankets.

Noise. That was it. Faint, choked cries filtering through the hallway, drifting through the open bedroom door. Beside her, Luke was still deep asleep. He never did wake up for anything. With a huff, Lovina tossed back the covers and padded into the hall.

To the left was Nicolas' bedroom, the door firmly closed - he couldn't sleep if there was even a crack of light shining underneath the door. Lovina peeked into his room, noticing the toys scattered and the tiny lump in the bed. Her son was fast asleep.

The crying continued, muffled in failed attempt to keep quiet. Lovina's heart twisted at the sound, slender legs carrying her further down the hall without thought. The room to Ruth's door was open just a sliver, dim light from her side light barely reaching the hall. Odd; Ruth hadn't slept with a light on since she was six.

Honey?

The crying halted, stifled by a hiccup, drowned by the ruffle of bed covers. Pretending to be asleep. 

The door clicked shut as Lovina crept into the room, blue eyes scanning the little room. Unlike Nicolas' room this one was pristine - not a toy or book out of place. The only thing unusual was Ruth herself, buried under the covers so only a puff of her curly blonde hair was visible. She never slept with the covers over her head.

Ruth love, I know you're awake. Lovina perched at the end of the single bed, hand reaching out to tug the covers down. What's wrong?

Another hiccup, a swipe of thin hands across tear-soaked cheeks. Nothing, she murmured back. Her voice was croaky, like chalk across a chalkboard, not at all the usual musical voice of Lovina's daughter. Swiping a hand across her forehead brought attention to the heat emanating from her face. her cheeks were flushed, visible even in the darkness, and she was burning up.

You're ill, Lovina murmured, come downstairs, we'll get you a cold press and something to drink.

I don't want to get up. It hurts.

Poor Ruth never did get it easy when she was ill. Headaches ran in the family and even at twelve, she wasn't free from what they jokingly called the family curse.

How about I get Dad to sit with you while I get you something to help? Lemon tea would at least soothe the pain in her throat, a cold press would bring down her temperature.

Ruth nodded - then squirmed as pain laced through her forehead. Lovina pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek, ignoring how her heart pained. I'll be back in a moment.

She checked on Nicolas once more on her way - he squirmed in his bed, huffing out a whimper, but remained asleep. She hoped he wasn't falling ill too - especially not so close to Christmas.

Luke was still asleep, not that Lovina had expected anything different. She stepped into the bedroom and nudged him awake, frowning when all he did was roll over. Into her side of the bed no less. 

Luke, Ruth's ill, she murmured, she wants you to sit with her while I make her tea.

Luke simply waved a tired hand, shooing her away. What time is it? he slurred.

The house was still dark and silent. The clock above them confirmed it was still the early hours of the morning. Four o'clock, Lovina replied.

I have work early, Luke huffed, fighting back a yawn, I need sleep. You look after her.

Indignation rose in her chest. She could have made the tea in the time it took Luke to wake up. Now here he was, more concerned with his beauty sleep than his daughter's health. Don't be so rude, Lovina snapped, she's ill. You can manage fifteen minutes with your own daughter and still get enough sleep.

In the darkness, Luke's brows furrowed. He had been working a lot more recently - even with Christmas coming soon, he hadn't taken time off. He was the owner of a butcher's shop, the only one in the family that worked; but did that excuse him from caring for his family? No.

Luke-

"Go back to sleep, Lovina, Luke snapped, hands flailing as if to shove her away. Ruth's old enough to look after herself. She doesn't need me to hold her hand."

Heat rose in her stomach, hands clenched into fists. How dare he dismiss them like that! Lovina stepped back, humourless laugh caught in her throat. Fine, go to sleep. I'll look after Ruth tonight. Don't expect me to come back to bed.

Luke twitched then, mouth opening to apologise - but Lovina was already gone.

Outside in the drafty hall, there was space to breathe. Ruth's whimpers reached her ears then and she flinched, sucking in a breath. She could be angry at Luke later - and she would be - but right now she had other priorities. It took no time for her to cross the hall and slip into Ruth's room. Hey love, I'm back.

Where's Dad?

Oh. Of course she would ask. Dad's asleep love. I didn't want to disturb him. A lie. An obvious one, because she never usually had qualms about waking him when one of the children were ill. 

If Ruth noticed, she didn't ask. Can I have lemon tea? she murmured, wincing as her throat burned, and maybe... a biscuit?

They were a simple household, not one for sugary treats or lavish food. Yet Lovina nodded, a gentle smile creeping onto her features. Of course. Will you be okay by yourself while I prepare it?

A nod, a wince. Yet Ruth was strong, and her resolve steady.

Lovina was silent as she crept downstairs, making the tea alone. With the sound of the kettle whistling, drowning out her thoughts, she almost forgot about her anger toward Luke.

Almost.

She didn't go back to bed that night.

——————————

Lovina took the children to her parent's that afternoon. Luke went off to work at his butcher's shop - something she was quietly thankful for - and he gave her barely so much as a goodbye before disappearing. It wasn't a good sign, especially with only a week until Christmas; yet the two had been experiencing problems for months, and it was quickly shoved to the back of her mind.

Thankfully her parents lived only around the corner, and Lovina had bundled up the two children with enough scarves and hats that their little faces were barely visible. Ruth complained of course, but she was too ill to protest beyond a grumble and pout.

Voices, muffled by the door, reached her ears even before they approached the porch. The words were a mystery, but her mother's shrill shout was clear. Her father's albeit quieter, brought a wince to her features.

Are they arguing? Nicolas murmured, do they not want us to come over?

Loving shushed him gently, pressing a kiss to his cold forehead. Sometimes people argue, love. It has nothing to do with us. Even so her insides twisted, grimace spreading. Her parents rarely argued - and never so loudly. Bracing herself, Lovina knocked.

The voices immediately silenced. Lovina hadn't realised how loud they really were, until it stopped. There was a scuffle, keys scraping in the lock - and then the face of her father's grinning face.

Her father, Lucius, was an older gentleman with a shock of greying hair and kind blue eyes. He greeted them with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. Come inside you three, it's freezing out here. He ushered them into the living room - where a crackling fire warmed the house and the scent of cinnamon drifted through from the kitchen beyond. 

Such a cosy, familiar sight set her mind at ease. Perhaps their argument was only trivial. She began removing Nicolas' many layers while Ruth kicked off her shoes.

Could I have a lemon tea? Ruth rasped. Her spirits had lifted since the previous night - but her throat still ached and there were dark circles beneath her eyes. 

Of course, Lucius replied with a smile. Still, Lovina thought there was something not right about the way his lips curled. She was about to ask, but he was already rushing into the kitchen, presumably to make tea.

Ruth took no time in bundling up underneath one of the many blankets in the living room, claiming the armchair nearest the fireplace as her own. Nicolas joined her, perching on the arm of the chair to snag a corner of blanket.

There was a moment of silence, of reprieve, where Lovina smiled gently at her two children. Then a sharp clatter from the kitchen wiped the smile from her face. Is everything okay? she called, head peeking through the living room door. She caught a glimpse of a shattered mug swept from the kitchen floor, and her mother's scowl.

Fine, her mother, Abigail, snapped, just your father being clumsy. As always.

Clumsy? Lucius was anything but, usually so gentle and precise in his movements. It brought a worried frown to Lovina's usually soft features. Do you need any help?

No thank you,

"No."

Hushed whispered followed, a quiet conference she had no place in. Yet still she strained her ears, knowing eavesdropping was selfish but unable to stop.

...the children don't need to hear us argue.

Then stop picking a fight, Lucius.

You're being too harsh.

A huff, a fresh mug slammed onto the kitchen table, a strangled sigh. Then, "I'm not harsh, I'm truthful. Lovina needs to get a grip on that husband of hers."

Lovina's cheeks flushed crimson, eyes snapping wide as her heart skipped. They were arguing over her?  Suddenly she wanted to disappear, to forget those words from her own mother's mouth. But she couldn't leave it alone, couldn't pretend she hadn't heard a thing.

Lovina, dear? She blinked, swimming back to reality - and there