An Amish Christmas by Cynthia Keller Page A

go for a walk earlier when their whining about how bored they were had become too much for her.
    “Hey, sport, what are you up to?” James asked Sam.
    “They were fighting too much. Besides, I’m freezing.”
    “Come over here.” Meg moved the folded towels away and patted the couch beside her. “I’ll warm you up.”
    Sam sat down, and she put her arms around him, vigorously rubbing his back through his fleece jacket. She kissed the top of his head as he leaned in to her. James went over to the sink to get himself a glass of water. Meg guessed he felt as uncomfortable as she did prying into their hosts’ cupboards or refrigerator.
    One of the doors opened, and the three of them looked up at the sound. An elderly man, slightly stooped, stood in the doorway. His hair was nearly white, and he had bangs falling across his forehead, plus a long, full beard. He was dressed justlike all the other men they had seen in the house, in black pants with suspenders and a dark blue shirt. He wore a black vest as well.
    “Ah,” he said, smiling. “Our visitors.” He came forward, moving to take a seat at the big table. “I am Samuel Lutz. David is my son.” He jerked a thumb in the direction of the door from which he had emerged. “We live there.”
    James went over to introduce himself and Meg and shake Samuel’s hand. Then Samuel turned his attention to Sam. “And who is this young man?”
    Shyly, Sam identified himself.
    Samuel Lutz’s eyes lit up. “Ahh, another Samuel! Very good!”
    Sam obviously hadn’t put his name together with the name of this odd-looking man. “Oh. Yeah.”
    The older man smiled. “We will be good friends, then. I will call you Young Samuel.”
    Sam looked uncomfortable but said nothing.
    “I heard we had visitors. I wanted to meet you before the crowd comes in for lunch. My daughter-in-law will be here soon, I think, to put it out.”
    As if on cue, Catherine joined them from outside. She was in conversation with a young girl dressed much like she was, down to the white head covering with the untied strings.
    “Hello,” said Catherine. “This is my daughter Amanda. She and your daughter are in one bedroom.”
    “Oh, yes.” Meg looked at the girl with interest. “Lizzie said she didn’t get a chance to meet you last night.”
    “I was out,” Amanda answered with the family’s accent, “but I got up early, so we never talked.”
    “But now it is lunch, so you’ll meet her.” Catherine moved to the kitchen area and opened the oven door to check on what she had inside. “Everyone will meet everyone.”
    Amanda pulled open a kitchen drawer.
    “Thirteen,” Catherine said. “Plus some little ones. Maybe three.”
    Amanda nodded and reached into the drawer to pull out flatware.
    Meg whispered to Sam, “Run outside and get your sister and brother. We all need to help.”
    By the time the table had been set and everyone was assembled, there were seventeen people. They all seemed to be speaking in a language that sounded like German, although Meg couldn’t be sure. As soon as they saw the Hobarts, they switched to English.
    The Lutz family said grace silently, and Meg realized the spoken grace when they first arrived probably had been done for their benefit. Introductions were swift, and she didn’t remember all of the names. A few stood out. The older man, Samuel Lutz, was married to Leah. Somewhat stout, with a full face and lips, she was polite but no more than that, lacking her husband’s genuine warmth. Two men arrived with small children in tow, and Catherine explained that their wives were baking. Meg had no idea why that meant they had to miss lunch, but it didn’t seem like the right moment to ask. She knew she would remember Barbara, a bubbly young woman who was introducedas the daughter getting married the following week. Jonathan, the older of the two sons who had helped them the night before, also joined them at the last minute.
    Meg’s children, silent with the