“Advent calendars,” Holly answered.
Noelle’s expression must have given away her confusion because Holly continued, “Advent . . . the pre-Christmas tradition?”
Puzzled, Noelle shook her head.
“I know—the Amish don’t celebrate Advent. Neither do the Mennonites, which we are.”
Noelle was surprised.
“My mom grew up celebrating Advent, but then as a teenager in Mexico, she joined a Mennonite Church. Now we go to one a few miles from here.”
Obviously it was a liberal one. The girl was dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt.
Holly continued. “Advent celebrates the coming of baby Jesus, during the four weeks before Christmas . . .” She pointed toward the five candles on the counter, all unlit. “The purple candles are for hope, joy, peace, and faith. And the white one symbolizes Jesus. That’s what my mama taught me. We light one each Sunday before Christmas.” Holly grinned. “Or flip the switch, for the battery-operated ones because we’re not allowed to light candles in here. I’ll”—she made air quotes—“‘light’ the one for hope tomorrow, the first Sunday of Advent.”
Holly held up one of the calendars and pointed to the numeral one. It wasn’t a normal calendar with grids. Instead it had little cardboard doors arranged around the painting. “Each of the twenty-five flaps has a verse printed on it, and inside is a piece of chocolate.” She put the calendar back down on the counter. “It’s a fun countdown to Christmas, but it also helps kids stay focused on the reason for the season.” She grinned again.
Noelle appreciated the lesson. She liked Holly. And not just because they shared a birthday.
Business picked up gradually with each passing hour, but it wasn’t as packed as Noelle remembered from when she helped before. Holly was keeping busy, but sales were slow for Noelle. An older Englisch woman stopped at her booth and asked what Noelle was selling. In her typical low voice, she explained. The woman proudly announced she was visiting Lancaster County and reached out and patted Noelle’s hand. “Try to smile and sound a little more enthusiastic, dear.”
Noelle grimaced.
The woman bought an apple pie, sticky buns, and a loaf of bread. “I’m going to compare your baking to mine.” Her eyes twinkled.
Noelle knew she should come up with a snappy comeback, but she couldn’t think of a thing to say except for “Have a nice day.”
The tourist gave her a smile and then joined another Englisch woman at Holly’s booth.
When Noelle and Jesse courted, she’d been more confident. She always felt more outgoing with him, and she had plenty to smile about back then. When he left, she grew even more shy than she’d been before. Mamm had told Noelle, or tried to in her post-stroke speech, not to let embarrassment isolate her. But Noelle couldn’t seem to help it. Her shame sucked all of her energy, except what she needed to care for Mamm and continue with the baking for the business.
Noelle stayed in her booth without a break, not wanting to miss any customers. She took bites of her sandwich as she stood, hoping for more customers, while Holly grew busier and busier as the day continued.
Finally, in the midafternoon, the girls watched each other’s booth so they could each take a quick trip to the restroom and grab a cup of coffee. Holly gave Noelle a truffle, and Noelle returned the favor with a sticky bun.
Noelle enjoyed interacting with the girl. Her best friend had been her niece Moriah, who was a couple of months older than Noelle. Her husband, Eugene, had been good friends with Jesse, and the four of them had gone on buggy rides and hikes together. But Noelle’s relationship with Moriah had grown strained in the last few years, especially after Eugene had died nearly a year ago. Noelle had tried to console her niece but to no avail.
Most of Noelle’s friends from school were either married or would be soon. Spending time with them just reminded her of what she didn’t have. After Jesse stayed in Montana, Noelle was too embarrassed to go back to the Youngie singings and volleyball games. She saw enough pity in the expressions of others at church. Soon, Moriah told Noelle that she’d heard, through the grapevine, that Jesse was dating an Englisch girl in Montana.
Noelle felt as if a half-grown calf had kicked her. Before that, she still hoped Jesse would come home, that they would make up and join the church together. And then marry.
But obviously those were no longer his plans.
She’d joined the church the next spring. Mamm and Dat thought that meant she’d forgotten Jesse, that she was willing to marry someone else. It meant nothing of the sort.
It just meant she was resigned to a life alone.
By midafternoon, Noelle had sold a quarter of the pies. She hoped the rest would sell and moved the boxes to the front of her booth, sure Salome would be nearly out of product by now. It appeared that Holly was out of calendars.
As Noelle bagged a pie, someone off to her right caught her attention.
Her worst fear had come true.
Jesse.
He wore Amish clothes and a beard that matched his sandy hair. Unintentionally her eyes met his. They were as bright blue as ever. She stepped backward, struggling to catch her breath.
Not only was he at the market, as she’d feared, but as indicated by his beard, he was both Amish and married.
She finished the transaction as her heart thumped in her chest. She hoped she could continue to function without crying.
As the customer stepped away, Jesse took the woman’s place. He held something in his arms. Noelle stepped backward again. A sleeping Boppli, wrapped in a pink woven blanket. The baby’s head was partly uncovered, but her face was turned toward him.
Noelle clenched her trembling hands. Jesse was a father.
Feeling as if her heart might stop, she turned away from him and toward a customer. Thank goodness her booth was the busiest it had been all day. “May I help you?”
As she handed the customer
