Free Christmas at Promise Lodge by Charlotte Hubbard Page A

of Noah’s dog. “In some ways, the bishop reminds me of Queenie—driving us this way and that at his whim, simply because he enjoys it . . . and because he can. But don’t ever tell him I said that,” he added quickly.
    â€œOf course I won’t. I don’t like being herded away from our original plans for Promise Lodge any better than you or my sisters do.” She let out a sigh. “I suppose it’s wrong to pray for God to intervene with some sort of lightning bolt or unmistakable warning to make Floyd change his mind.”
    Amos smiled. “Be careful what you pray for,” he quipped. “We take our chances when we ask God to do things our way—especially if it involves bringing someone hardship or disaster. And that’s what it would take to make Bishop Floyd change his tune. A major disaster.”
    â€œNo, I don’t want that,” Mattie quickly clarified. “But a little slap upside the head to let Floyd know he’s going about things all wrong would be all right.”
    â€œAnd who are we to say he’s wrong? He’s following the more conservative ways of the Old Order, after all—and God did choose him for our community.”
    Mattie gazed up at Amos. “That’s what it always comes down to, ain’t so? The belief that our male leaders carry out God’s purpose.”
    Amos badly wanted to kiss away the resignation on Mattie’s face. She was a steadfast, God-fearing woman who would never knowingly defy His will, and he wanted her to be happy—to be fruitful and multiply, whether that be by raising his children or by producing vegetables that made good use of the fertile soil she’d been blessed with.
    â€œHow about if we take a look at what’s inside your picnic basket?” he asked softly. “All this serious talk’s making me hungry.”
    Mattie smiled as they turned around and headed back toward the buggy. “Are you saying that whenever I want to redirect opinions I don’t like, I can just feed you?” she teased. “That seems easy enough.”
    â€œThe way to a man’s heart is through his stomach,” Amos pointed out. “But then, you won my heart a long time ago, dear. You could probably put dirt clods and earthworms on my plate, and I’d be too caught up in my love for you to notice.”
    Mattie’s smile warmed him like the sunshine that filtered through the trees. “Today we’ve got fried chicken, dinner rolls, slaw, apple salad, and pumpkin pie. But I’ll keep your idea about dirt clods and worms in mind, should I ever need to get your attention,” she teased.
    Amos took the picnic basket from the buggy and handed her an old quilt to spread on the ground. “Oh, you’ve always got my attention,” he said with a chuckle. “And to keep your mind from wandering, how soon would you like to get married? If you want me to court you for a while, I’ll be happy to—”
    â€œNovember twenty-first,” Mattie replied without missing a beat.
    Amos’s heart turned a cartwheel. Her immediate answer suggested that she was even more eager to become his wife than he’d anticipated. “That’s your birthday, as I recall,” he said while they sat down on the quilt. “It’s not quite two weeks away. Will that give you ladies enough time to prepare for another wedding meal? I don’t want you to feel I’m rushing you into this.”
    Mattie chuckled as she took the lids from the bowls of slaw and apple salad. “You saw how well everyone worked together at Noah’s and Deborah’s party. And you and I have known each other for most of our lives, after all,” she pointed out. “Once I realized I was wrong to compare you to Marvin, or to assume marriage to you would be anything like the years I spent with him, everything fell into place and my heart fluttered open. I’m ready,