A Simple Amish Christmas (18 page)

“Will I have to take my clothes off?”

“Nope. You can stay exactly as you are.”

“Okay.” The girl visibly relaxed. “I guess we can go in my room, then.”

“Would you like your
mamm
to come with us?”

The girl shrugged, then pushed herself out of the rocker with her right hand. When she did, Annie saw what the girl’s
answers hadn’t provided—she was easily closing in on her last trimester.

 

Annie followed Sharon back to her room.

It was a small room, with two twin beds and a tiny window looking out over the fields.

“I share with my
schweschder
, Charity,” Annie said.

“
Ya
, I share with Becca. Not sure where I’ll put a crib for the baby, but we’ll figure something out.”

Sharon sat on the bed, then began fidgeting with the spread.

Instead of beginning the exam, Annie sat down across from her.

“Is something wrong, Sharon?”

“Never had an exam before. I’ve never been sick. Never even been to see Doc Samuel.”

Annie knew many Amish people became anxious when faced with medical procedures, but warning bells began ringing in her ears. Something about Sharon’s nervousness seemed out of place.

Looking out the single window, she prayed for a way to put Sharon at ease.

“I’d never been sick much either. But I’d seen Samuel help one of the
kind
at the schoolhouse.”

Sharon nodded, but didn’t interrupt.

“Then I went to stay with my
aenti
awhile, in the city.”

“You lived with the
Englisch
?”

“For a few years. It was…” Annie paused, trying to think of how to sum up all that she’d experienced there. “It was a lonely time. I’m glad to be back now. But I learned a few things
about helping people—like how to listen to your heart, and how to measure your baby.”

Sharon had clasped her arms over her stomach and begun rocking at the word
Englisch
.

“Sharon? Are you okay?”

“Everything all right in here?” Ruth stuck her head in the door. “Tea’s ready.”

Seeing her mother, Sharon seemed to pull herself together, drew in a deep breath.

“We’re almost done.” Annie replied. She proceeded to show the purpose of each instrument before she used it—how the blood pressure cuff worked, why she wanted to measure the length and width of Sharon’s stomach, the reason she needed to take her temperature.

Finally she pointed the stethoscope’s rounded end toward her protruding stomach. “Sharon, I want to see if we can hear your
boppli’s
heartbeat.”

The girl’s eyes grew wide, but she nodded.

“Remember, the scope is cold on the end. You’ll probably feel it through your dress.” Annie would have preferred to listen without the dress, but her instinct told her Sharon wasn’t ready for that sort of exam.

She pressed the scope first at the top, then the side of Sharon’s stomach, searching for the baby’s heartbeat, listening closely. The doctors she’d worked with at Mercy had used a fetal stethoscope, but her acoustic scope would have to do.

When she found the rapid beat, she met the frightened girl’s stare with a smile. “Want to hear?”

Sharon nodded hesitantly.

“Take the ear pieces from my ears and put them in yours. I don’t want to lose the spot, as your
boppli
seems very active.”

“
Ya
, he moves around a lot.”

Sharon frowned as she adjusted the ear pieces. “All I hear is a loud rush, like a strong wind,” she muttered.

Keeping her right hand firmly on the scope’s round end, Annie reached up with her left—removed one side of the scope from Sharon’s ears. “The windy sound is the fluid around the baby. Listen underneath the wind and you’ll hear a soft beat. It’s rather fast, like a buggy tire making a rhythmic sound as it turns on a road.”

A look of wonder spread across the girl’s face. “That’s my
boppli’s
heart?” Her voice faltered, cracked in disbelief. “Are you sure?”

“I’m very sure.” Annie smiled into the girl’s deep blue eyes, prayed she would relax and trust her.

They remained there for another minute, Annie’s hand holding the round end of the scope to Sharon’s stomach. Sharon’s hand on top of Annie’s, hope mingling with joy on her face.

Annie didn’t know how this situation would resolve itself. How Sharon’s father would learn to accept the grandchild in his home. What had happened to Sharon to make her so skittish.

But she did know a look of joy when she saw one.

18

 

S
amuel read Rachel’s letter one last time.

There was no mistaking her intent. How had he managed to ignore it for so long?

Rachel, Mary’s
schweschder
.

Physically, the two looked very much alike—petite, blonde, and beautiful, but there the similarities ended.

His Mary had always been so gentle, and though she had a temper—a smile tugged as he remembered the time she’d threatened him with a skillet if he tracked mud across her kitchen again—overall, her words were usually kind.

Rachel was different.

The woman’s spirit had always struck him as a bit harsh. She seemed to not think before she spoke, or if she did, it didn’t concern her if her words bit like the cold winter wind.

Mary had often worried about her—worried first over how her attitude might keep her from marrying, and then how it might cause tension between her and her husband. She hadn’t lived long enough to see Rachel become a widow, and for that Samuel was grateful.

Each fall, after the crops were in and when the marrying season was upon them, Samuel would take the bus over
to Ohio—to visit Mary’s family. Two years ago, his
bruder
Benjamin had made the trip with him, met a cousin of Mary’s and fallen in love.

Samuel smiled to himself as he thought of Benjamin.

Then he glanced back down at the letter, reached for the cold mug of
kaffi
, and took a drink of it, though he knew how it would taste—bitter.

Exactly like the words in front of him.

He wished no ill for Rachel, which was why this letter hurt him so. As he read it slowly and carefully, praying for wisdom to understand her intent clearly, he could see her pain through her words, much as he could see infection in a wound.

But how to address her concerns? Certainly, it was time for him to do so.

Pushing the mug away, he read through it one last time.

Samuel,

My parents send their greetings, as do Ethan and Michael. You will be surprised how much the boys have grown when you visit this fall. They miss the guidance of having a
daed
around, though your
bruder,
Benjamin, has helped when he can fit us into his schedule.

It has been two years now since the passing of my husband, and my mourning period is long over. I am a practical woman, Samuel. I know how things were between you and Mary, and I don’t pretend to be able to duplicate such a thing; however, I believe there is much we can offer each other as we grow older. It is not the Amish way to grow old alone. Moreover, Ethan and Michael would benefit from your presence.

Please consider the merit of my words.

Pray on them.

Discuss them with your bishop.

I have faith he will help you to understand your duty.

Rachel.

Samuel tapped the letter with his pen, then stood and poured the cold
kaffi
down the sink. Refilling his mug with the black brew he had reheated from breakfast, he sat down and pulled a clean sheet of paper toward him.

What bothered him most about the letter was not what she had said; it was what she had left unsaid.

There was no offer of love or even friendship. She might as well have been making a business proposal.

Were he to accept, would such a cold union be what Samuel would have to look forward to the rest of his years? An image of Annie flashed into his mind, and he pushed it away.

This wasn’t about Annie.

This was about Rachel and family and obligations.

This was about what duty involved, and what it didn’t.

He pulled the blank paper toward him and began to write.

 

Fifteen minutes later his reply was sealed in an envelope, the envelope was placed in his pocket, and his stomach was settled for having put the entire affair to rest.

He could leave it in his mailbox, but since he was headed into town anyway, he might as well drop it off at the post office.

The thought had barely formed when he looked up from hitching his mare to his buggy and saw Annie Weaver steering Jacob’s old mare down the unmarked snow of his lane.

And was there a prettier sight than Annie wrapped up for a cold winter day?

He couldn’t think of a single one.

Waiting until she’d pulled up beside his rig, he grabbed the horse’s harness. “Annie, what brings you out this beautiful day?”

Her face rosy-red from the cold, a scarf wrapped around her neck, she climbed out of the buggy and smiled up into his face—but it was a smile tinged with concern.

“I’ve just been to check on Sharon Smucker. I was hoping to speak with you about her. This looks like a bad time, though.”

“Actually, I’m headed into town to pick up a few supplies, then out to check on a few of the older folks. Any chance you could travel with me?”

Annie’s smile widened, but then she looked back at her mare. “
Ya
, I’d like to, but I’ve got
dat’s
mare…”

“Does he need her this afternoon?”

“No.”

“Give me a minute then. I’ll unhitch the buggy and settle her in my barn. Cover up with the blankets inside my buggy— climb inside while you wait, or you’ll freeze to the ground.”

 

Annie waited inside Samuel’s buggy, his blankets covering her lap and wrapped around her legs. He’d unhitched the old mare in half the time it would have taken her, and through the open barn door she saw him toss a handful of feed into its trough. Though she didn’t mind doing these things herself, it struck her how much more naturally such chores came to a man.

Reba and Charity loved working with the horses, but she found the harnesses heavy and cumbersome—Samuel treated them as if he were removing a quilt from a bed and hanging it on a line for drying.

When he opened the door of his buggy, cold air rushed in. His dark eyes met hers, and an involuntary shiver worked its way up and through her body.

“Even with the sun out, the temperature isn’t growing much warmer.” Samuel reached behind her seat, his arm brushing against her shoulder as he did. “I keep this battery heater for days like this.”

Smiling, he set it at her feet, turned it to full blast. Warm air filled the buggy quickly, as Samuel flicked the reins and they took off down the snowy lane.

“
Gut?
” His smile caught her off guard.

When would she grow used to the sight of Samuel Yoder smiling?

“
Ya
, I can almost feel my toes again.”

“Be glad you aren’t wearing those
Englisch
shoes you had on the first night you came home.”

“Samuel.” Annie’s voice rose in mock-horror. “Do you mean to tell me you were staring at my feet as my
dat
lay in bed?”

“Might have noticed. Don’t see shoes like those round here often.”

A blush crawled up Annie’s face, and she reached forward, turned down the little heater. “They happened to be the closest to Amish I could find in the city,
danki
.”

Samuel allowed their banter to rest between them as they drove through the early afternoon. Though snow still remained piled high beside the road, several buggies passed them headed in the opposite direction. It had been this way as long as Annie could remember—a big snow, snuggling inside with her family, then a collective sigh as people began to unbury after their time of being cooped up.

As usual, they shared the roads with their
Englisch
neighbors. The occasional automobile chugged along behind them.

Annie noticed Samuel pulled Smokey to the right where the snow plows had cleared extra room, so the motor cars could pass. Where there wasn’t an extra lane cleared, though, he let the
Englischers
wait.

“You’re not fussing about the
Englisch
drivers.”

Samuel cocked an eye her direction, tugged on his beard. “Fuss about a thing like rude drivers, I’m going to be fussing every day.”

“Some men do, though,” she teased.

“You don’t say? Men, but never women?” Samuel pulled over to let a large black truck zoom by. Teenagers filled the cab, and though the windows were closed, loud music spilled from the vehicle.

“Okay. You have a point. Charity probably would have fought with the truck over who had the right of way, but she’s still young and stubborn.”

“No use causing a buggy accident, or a vehicle one for that matter.” He paused, glanced at her, then pushed forward. “Do you miss the city, Annie? Do you ever wish you could go back there? Or are you content here now?”

She knew his questions were more than casual queries to pass the time. Samuel wanted to know, and her answer mattered. Small lines appeared between his eyes, the way they did when he was truly focusing—she’d seen the same expression when they’d delivered Faith’s baby and again when she’d worked with him on Saturday.

Did her answer matter so much to him?

She looked out at the farms they passed as they drew closer to town.

“Mifflin County is my home. It’s where I belong.” She sighed, adjusted the blanket on her lap. “I won’t say I wish I’d never left.”

“Because of the nursing?”

“
Ya
, the nursing is what I think the Lord wants me to do, and I’m pleased the bishop is going to allow it. But being with the
Englisch
also helped me understand our people in a different way. Am I making any sense?”

Annie noticed his hand travel to his coat pocket, as if to check whether he’d forgotten something. “It does make sense. I travel to Ohio each fall, where my
bruder
Benjamin lives—and where Mary’s family lives. When I come home, I have a better understanding and a new appreciation for our community.”

It was the first time Samuel had mentioned Mary to her, and Annie wondered if they’d crossed another barrier.

“ ’Course I miss my
schweschder
-in-law’s cooking when I come back here—back to my bachelor life—but I’d still rather be home.” Samuel slowed Smokey for the increased traffic as they entered town. “You’d think I’d learn to cook better, but it’s the one skill I haven’t mastered well in all these years.”

Annie smiled, both because of his teasing and because she noticed that even more Christmas decorations had popped up in the store windows. “I missed my
mamm’s
cooking a lot while I was gone. I know how to make the identical meals she makes, but it’s not the same preparing food for yourself, eating alone. I made a friend in the city, several friends actually. But one girl in particular, Jenny, would always cook for me when I became homesick.”

“I’m glad you had someone there who looked after you.” Samuel reached out and touched her arm as he pulled the buggy to a stop in front of her
mamm’s
shop. “But I’m more glad you’re back where you belong.”

“I am too. I won’t lie to you. I miss the
kinner
, especially Kiptyn.”

“A little boy. I heard you mention him to the bishop at church.”

“
Ya.
” Annie reached into her bag, pulled out a letter she had written to him the evening before. “I had a letter from him and another from his parents last week, though. He’s still improving. It’s really a miracle.”

“That’s
gut.
I’m very glad to hear it.”

“His parents are the nicest
Englischers
I’ve met. They might bring him for a visit in the spring—if he’s well enough.”

She looked out at the storefront windows in front of her, thought about Christmas and all the promise it held.

She thought of how it held promises for Kiptyn too.

Samuel reached out, touched her shoulder. “I’ll pray he continues to improve.”

“
Danki.
”

“Did you eat lunch at Sharon’s house?”

“No. Why?” Annie tried to catch up, confused by the change in topic, more confused by the touch of his hand on her shoulder.

“Because it’s half past twelve, and I had finished mine when you drove up. Perhaps you should grab a bite at the store where your
mamm
works while I take care of a few errands.”