A Simple Amish Christmas (17 page)

Annie pulled in her bottom lip, worried it a little, but didn’t say anything.

“I suppose I guessed how you were feeling because I blamed myself for the longest time.” Samuel sat up now, brushed the hay from his sleeves. “See, I asked him to come by my place and look at my fields, discuss a crop change with me. But neither you nor I hit his buggy. We’re not to blame for his injury.”

Annie straightened the apron covering her dress. “I hadn’t thought of it the way you’re saying. I do wish I’d been at the hospital when
Dat
was there. It took me a full day to make it home once I received the call—I know that haunts me.”

Samuel leaned in, his face mere inches from hers. “You came, though. And you stayed.”

Annie’s smile should have stopped the snow, should have brought out the sun—it was that bright.

“
Ya
, I did.”

“Most of us have trouble carrying the bishop’s lessons out into the normal workweek,” Samuel added. “It’s not just you, Annie.”

“Does it get any easier?”

“How would I know?”

“Well, you being older and all,” she teased. “You’ve had years of trying. So much experience…”

Before he could think of a response, Reba had run up and was pulling Annie away, intent on showing her the Umbles’ animal pens at the back of the barn.

He watched them walk away and wondered what he was doing.

Easy enough for him to talk about peacefulness.

He’d convinced himself yesterday that Annie Weaver was too young for him, and his best friend’s daughter to boot.

Then there was the letter from Rachel waiting for him on the table at home.

Another letter from Rachel.

He hadn’t even opened it.

He hadn’t needed to—he knew what it said.

He’d still not decided how to answer her.

During last week’s sermon, he too had experienced a deep sense of peace and calm—God’s peace. Then Annie had walked into the Umbles, and his first thoughts had been of walking up behind her, touching her hand, catching the scent of soap on her skin.

Hard to resist one’s heart’s desire.

The thought came to him unbidden, and he wasn’t sure what to do about it.

17

 

M
onday, the blizzard continued, dropping over sixteen inches of snow across their fields and roads and fences. Adam, Rebekah, and Charity stayed home from work. Reba stayed home from school.

And Annie was not able to check on Sharon Smucker.

Monday night, a west wind blew the storm away from them toward New Jersey and out to the Atlantic. Annie found herself staring up into the same constellations she’d gazed at as a child, feeling every bit as lost in many ways, but trying to trust, seeking the peace she and Samuel had spoken of.

Tuesday, everyone bundled up and resumed their normal activities. Annie completed the housework in the morning, then fixed a late morning snack for David and her
dat
as she always did. They came in talking of spring and crops and warmer days that had no hope of arriving for quite some time.

She hadn’t even argued with her father that morning when he declared he was going out to the barn. She was determined to practice peacefulness.

Scouring the entire downstairs had helped to work off her anxiety.

It had also kept her out of the barn, kept her from checking on him.

“Hello, Annie.” David stopped at the front door to clean off his boots. “You’re looking quite pretty today.”

Annie looked down at the old apron she’d pulled on over her mother’s most worn housedress—a dress at least four sizes too big for her. She hadn’t wanted to soil the few dresses she had while she scrubbed floors, and she knew this was the one her
mamm
always wore to do heavy housework.

“
Danki
, David. Have you asked Samuel to check and see if you need glasses?”

David laughed as her father walked in from the bathroom.

“Did I miss a joke?”

“You certainly did,” Annie said. “There’s no time to explain it, though. I have a favor to ask David after you two eat.”

“Anything for you, Annie.”

“Don’t be offering your services too quickly, David. Never volunteer with a woman before you hear what she needs.” Jacob sat down at the table after kissing Annie on the cheek. “She could be about to ask you to clean out the chicken coop, or clean the upstairs windows from the outside. You don’t want either of those jobs—save them for Adam.”

Jacob laughed at his own joke and reached for warm bread to go with his hot
kaffi
.

Annie had reheated a bit of last night’s ham. She had to admit, these two were easy to feed.

“Actually, I needed David to hitch up the buggy to the old mare—if he wouldn’t mind.”

“That’s no problem at all, but the lanes are still covered high with snow this morning, Annie. Do you need me to drive you somewhere?”

“No!” Annie’s spoon clattered in her saucer when she dropped it. “What I mean is, I’m sure the roads are fine. I heard the snowplows out on the main road earlier.”

When both men stared at her she added, “One of the neighbors asked me to stop by and see them about a medical matter, so it would be best if I went alone.”

“Should you wait until Adam comes home?” Jacob asked. “You know your
mamm
doesn’t want you traveling on the road at night alone, and some of your calls tend to go a bit long.”

“No. This will be a short visit.” Annie stood, suddenly not hungry at all. “I do need to change clothes first, though. I can be ready in a half-hour.”

“Not a problem at all.” David smiled as he wolfed down another piece of the ham. Before she made it across the room, he couldn’t help teasing her a little more, though. “Did you say you wanted me to hitch up Blaze for you?”

He nudged Jacob, and they both started laughing, heads bowed over their food.

Annie didn’t even bother replying as she hurried up the stairs to her room.

Blaze, indeed.

She’d watched Adam take the mare out for a ride last week. It reminded her of a movie poster she’d seen in Philadelphia— one of the old westerns had been playing at the theater down by the hospital. Horse reared on its back legs, cowboy holding on to his hat, except in this case Adam had lost his.

No, she did not need to try and drive Blaze. Though she had to wonder how Charity had managed to do so when Adam had trouble handling the horse.

But then few animals or people had the nerve to give Charity trouble.

She changed out of the work dress and into her better Sunday one. She’d had little time for making new clothes, but she supposed she’d have to eventually.

The three dresses she had barely fit anymore. It wasn’t that she’d gained weight exactly, but the weight she had had moved around somehow. She’d talked to her
mamm
about it the other night, and they’d had a nice laugh about it.

“You were a girl when I made those clothes, Annie. Now you’re a young woman.”

“Whatever the reason, I’m having some trouble fitting into them. I believe it might be owing more to your baking than anything else.”

Her
mamm
had eyed her figure and shook her head no, then changed the subject.

At the house, she’d taken to wearing her mother’s larger dresses—which was one of the ones David had commented on, but it was a little more difficult when she went out in public. They’d let out her one Sunday dress in the bosom, and Annie donned it quickly, covered it with a fresh apron, and put on a clean prayer
kapp
.

 

It was nearing ten thirty in the morning by the time she pulled up to the Smuckers’ home. The drive had been slow and steady. The old mare was easy enough to control, but it was a good thing she hadn’t been in a hurry.

She’d barely climbed down from the buggy when the front door of the single-story house opened.

Like most of the other farms in their area, the yard was clean, and the house whitewashed. A porch surrounded it on two sides. The barn was set a little farther back, and Annie noticed the place did seem to be a bit isolated—but then many
of their homes were isolated. Farming was by nature a remote life.

Sharon’s mother waited near the door as Annie walked up the stairs, her quilted bag in her hand.

“Hello, Mrs. Smucker. You might not remember me. I’m Annie Weaver. My younger
schweschder
is Charity. I believe she went to school with Sharon.”

“I know who you are. I’d like to talk to you out here a minute. If you don’t mind.” She looked around, as if checking to be sure they remained alone. “Before you go inside to see Sharon.”

“I don’t mind at all.” Annie pulled her coat more tightly against the December wind and followed her around to a sitting area on the side porch. Three rockers sat there and looked to the east, sheltered from the wind.

While Annie waited for Mrs. Smucker to begin, she studied her. Once-blonde hair had been pulled up into a tight bun— though a bit of it showed where she had severely parted her hair beneath her
kapp
. Light blue eyes reminded Annie of the color of a wildflower she’d often seen growing down by her
dat’s
pond. She tried to think of the name of it but couldn’t.

It eluded her as she watched this woman’s grief-stricken eyes and waited.

Tonight, she’d ask her
mamm
the name of the flower, and when the weather grew warmer she’d walk down to the pond. The thought of spring and wildflowers helped to bolster her spirits.

Sadness hung heavy in the air here—like the snow clouds that had pressed down over their community on Sunday.

Like many farm wives, Mrs. Smucker had gained a few pounds over the years. She wasn’t heavy but what Annie thought of as soft—motherly.

Annie could only imagine how at the moment this mother’s heart ached.

“Mrs. Smucker—”

“Call me Ruth.”

“All right. Ruth, I’d like to say I’m here because Samuel asked me, but I’m also here because I’d like to help Sharon. We want her to be as healthy as possible when the baby comes.”

At the word baby, Ruth began to twist the dark apron covering her dress.

“Never thought this would happen to one of my girls.”

“I’m sure it’s quite a shock.”

“Sharon’s always been a respectable girl. Studied hard in school. Never gave us any trouble.”

Annie reached out, covered the woman’s hands with her own. She’d seen the Smucker family at the service last week— the mother, father, and younger children. They hadn’t stayed for the meal, and Sharon hadn’t been with them.

Looking around, she noticed no young ones, so they must be at school for the day. Nearest she could remember, the baby had been born a few years before she left for the city.

“My primary concern is Sharon’s health,” Annie reminded her gently. “It’s important she still get out of the house, see her
freinden
, go to church.”

Tears Ruth had been holding back tracked down her face. She raised her apron and vigorously rubbed them away. “
Ya
, I know. The bishop told Phillip the same thing, and I thought last week he’d let her go, but then when it came time he turned red in the face and told her to go to her room.”

Annie waited, not knowing how to respond.

“He’s a
gut
man, Phillip. Always kind to me and the children, but he’s taking this real hard.”

“No doubt.” Annie patted her hand and stood. “We’ll pray God softens his heart. I’m not a midwife, Ruth, and I won’t be
the one to deliver Sharon’s baby. Belinda will need to be here for the birth or else Sharon will need to go to the
Englisch
hospital, whichever you decide.”

“She’ll be having the baby here, same as I did.” Ruth stood, straightened her dress and apron.

On impulse, Annie leaned forward, wrapped her arms around the woman in a light embrace. “I know I’m young to be giving advice. I don’t have any children of my own, and I’ve attended fewer than two dozen births. But I do know
bopplin
are a miracle—any
boppli
is a miracle. Sharon’s
boppli
is a miracle.”

Ruth nodded, returned the hug.

“How about we go and see your girl?”

Together, they turned and walked into the house.

 

Sharon sat knitting in front of the stove.

Annie wasn’t sure what she had expected. Perhaps a younger, just-as-tired version of Ruth.

The young girl with curly blonde hair peeking out of her prayer
kapp
and beautiful deep blue eyes somehow took her by surprise.

“Sharon, this is Miss Annie. She’s going to check on you, check your
boppli
, and make sure everything is okay.”

Sharon stopped rocking, set her knitting in a basket on the floor. “All right. What should I do?”

“Why don’t we talk first? Ruth, could you make us some tea?”

“Sure thing.”

When Ruth had moved off to the kitchen area, Annie took the seat nearest to Sharon.

“How are you feeling, Sharon?”

“Fine. A bit more tired than usual.”

“That’s normal. Your baby is growing, and he or she takes a lot of your energy. Has your stomach felt
naerfich
?”

“It did feel nervous—early in the mornings. But that’s stopped.”

Annie made a note in her patient book. “Do you remember when you had your last period?”

“
Ya.
It was in the summer. I remember because
Dat
had just bought the new bull, and he kept me awake making so much noise.”

Annie wrote down “Five to six months?”

“What are you knitting?”

“Booties—yellow lined with green since I don’t know if it’s a boy or girl.”

“Smart thinking.” Annie smiled, hoping to put the girl at ease. She’d sat with her hand on her stomach the entire time they’d talked, but with the plain dress, the apron, and the way she sat, Annie couldn’t possibly judge how far along she was in her pregnancy.

“Sharon, I need to measure your stomach and try to tell when your baby is due. I’d also like to take your blood pressure and your pulse to make sure your body is adjusting to carrying the baby as it should.”

Sharon nodded, but her eyes started darting around the room nervously.

“Nothing I do is going to hurt, Sharon.”