Merry's Christmas: Two Book Set (Amish) (28 page)

Charity turned back to Leanne, her words measured and sure. “When I say so, I’m going to need you to push. Until then, just keep up your breathing, okay?”

“Okay,” Leanne whimpered.

By the time Hope reached the kitchen, Daniel was already running water into a stainless steel pot. Instinctively, she reached into a cabinet for a tempered glass pitcher. “Even with a gas stove, the microwave’s faster. But we can’t use metal in there.”

Daniel hesitated. Just as she expected, he was avoiding the microwave. Out of respect for them, she’d avoided it, too, up until then, but he would just have to understand.

Determined, Hope edged Daniel out of her way. She swiveled the faucet to her side, and started to fill the pitcher. “Look, Daniel, boiling water is boiling water. God created electricity anyway. What do you think lightning is? The microwave just harnesses that power. You know what? If it’s sin, I’ll take it on me. Just let me do it.”

Raising his hands, Daniel stepped back.

Hope felt horrible immediately. She, of all people, should be more compassionate about where he was coming from. Still, the memories that this moment evoked flooded back in excruciatingly vivid detail. She had boiled water then. She had coached Grace with her breathing as Aaron and Isaac had entered this world, one right after the other. She had held Grace’s sweet hand until all the warmth drained out of it and the spark of life had left her eyes. There was an absence about that look that she would never forget.

Hope checked the slowly filling pitcher. Get it together, she coached herself. Let him help how he can
.
“I’m sorry. I’m just... There’s a hand sharpener in the drawer to put a fresh edge on that knife. Could you give me a hand with that?”

Daniel opened Hope’s utensil drawer and started to root around. “She’ll be all right.”

Hope shut the spigot off. “With all respect—and I’m really trying to give you that, Daniel—you don’t know she’ll be all right. You can’t know that. Only the good Lord does.” She placed the water pitcher into the microwave and started it.

Daniel located the sharpener. “Charity has helped birth a baby before. My cousin, Lydia’s.”

“So had I,” Hope recalled. “I also watched her mother die, exactly this way.” She hurried into the living room and grabbed Charity’s sewing kit.

Daniel began to draw the knife’s blade against the sharpener. “Has no woman ever died giving birth in a hospital?”

Returning, Hope pulled the lid off Charity’s basket. “I’m sure some do. That’s not the point.”

Daniel sharpened the knife expertly. His words were calm, yet penetrating, all at the same time. “And did you abandon the city because of it?”

“Daniel...”

“No, you didn’t. Because, as sad as it is, people die. It happens in hospitals, and it happens at home. It’s a part of life.”

Hot tears burned Hope’s eyes. “Grace did not have to die.”

Daniel took it in contemplatively. “We all have to die sometime.”

Wiping her face, Hope pulled a needle from Charity’s kit. Long buried anger burned in her throat. “She was the best friend I had in this world, and she did not have to leave us. Not then.”

They turned at the sound of a newborn’s cry. 

Hope threw open the door to Leanne’s room, just in time to see Charity rise with the fretful infant. Leanne reached out, soaked with emotion. Hope closed the door and slumped against it. She pressed a hand to her heaving chest. So far, they were okay.

Charity beamed at Leanne. “You have a son.”

Leanne laughed through her tears. “A boy?   Oh, look... Can I?”

Carefully, Charity extended the baby to Leanne. “You can hold him. There.”

Hope watched wordlessly as Leanne gazed in amazement at her son. From all appearances, she would be all right.

“Look Hope. He’s so little. And, yikes. So gunky. Is that okay?”

A smile curled across Charity’s lips. “He’s fine. We’ll get some salt and clean him up.”

Leanne drew her infant close. “Shhh, Darlin’. It’s all right. I’m here. I’m here.”

Serenely, Charity looked up. Hope leaned her head back against the doorjamb, relieved beyond words. No matter the circumstances, a new life had safely come into this world. It seemed a sacred privilege to be part of it.

When Hope emerged from Leanne’s room, she found Daniel waiting quietly. He was far from an expectant father, she thought, but he still had that familiar look of concern on his face as he stood there. It reminded her of Nathan’s expression when the twins had come, so many years ago. What a bittersweet responsibility it had been to break the news to her brother that, while he was the father of two infant sons, his dear wife had died in the process.

Hope did her best to shake off the past as she moved to Daniel’s side. “They’re fine. Charity did a good job.”

Daniel nodded.

As hard as she tried to prevent it, a tear slipped down Hope’s cheek.

Tenderly, Daniel brushed her shoulder, then sat down on the couch. “It was a long time ago. But I am sorry for your loss.”

Hope wiped her face. “It was Charity’s loss, too. Her mother.”

Daniel’s eyes were filled with understanding. “Yes. And your best friend.”

Hope sat beside him, deep in thought. “Did you know Charity’s mother?”

“I was only seven, so not much, but my parents knew her,” Daniel replied. “They said she was a good woman. We all stood with her at her burial. It rained that day. Seems like an odd memory.”

So, he had been there. Daniel never intended to hurt her, but even the mere mention of Grace’s burial plagued her. At the time, she’d been far too overwhelmed with grief and anger to even think about attending. Instead, she’d found herself leaving them all. She’d quietly slipped away from everything and everyone she had ever held dear. Even when she’d told Nathan she’d just be revisiting her Rumspringa, she’d known it was much more.

Hope exchanged a solemn look with Daniel. “I wish I had done things differently. I guess I just couldn’t face saying goodbye to her, and acting like it was okay. I didn’t think I’d miss my family as much as I did. Still do.” She shook her head and shrugged her shoulders. “And now my own mother is gone. Can’t change that.”

Daniel shook his head softly. “No. But you can change your future. You can come home now.”

Hope breathed in deeply. She really should consider it. Seriously, this time. For a moment, she allowed herself to think it:
I’m going home
. But as soon as those words crossed her mind, the realities she knew she’d have to face came tumbling over top of them.

She turned to regard him. “Tell me something, Daniel. Honestly, I’m not trying to be adversarial. I just really need to know. Not what you think I’d like to hear, but the truth.”

Holding her gaze, Daniel nodded. “All right.”

Hope paused. This was sensitive territory. “I know your community is more conservative than some about childbirth, and even then, a few of the younger generation differ about medical care. I also understand the financial challenges since the Amish have no health insurance. So, I just have to ask...” She took a measured breath. “If it were Charity’s life on the line—if she were the one you could save by going to a hospital to give birth—would you take her to one?”

A sober expression formed on Daniel’s face. “I believe what they teach us,” he started, “that it is not about the death we fear, so much as the life we choose to live.” Daniel paused. “It would be agony, yes. It would be the greatest test of my faith.” He stopped again, his eyes glistening. “Honestly, I don’t know. But I hope I would choose to have our children born in the comfort of our home, and trust Gott to do what’s best.”

Hope nodded, taking it in. A part of her wanted to rail at him. Why would he stand so stalwartly by such outdated medical practices, even at the risk of a life so precious as Charity’s? But the other part of her admired his conviction, and the love he so clearly had for her niece.

Daniel was every bit like Nathan, Hope realized. He was a good, devout man who would love Charity every single day that she had breath. But the thought that Charity’s life could be unnecessarily cut short, that weighed as heavy on her heart as the decision she had to make. Either way, she realized, she would be grieving again. One way or another, she would have to say goodbye.

thirteen

A
s the days added up to nearly three weeks in the city, Charity found herself falling into a rhythm. Night after night, she’d record what had happened in a journal. She had started it for Bethany, but she realized that she wanted it just as much as a keepsake for herself.

These weeks, she’d never forget.

She wrote about getting to know Aunt Hope, and how they’d whisper late into the night about every little thing. She recounted what fun ice-skating was and how fascinating the hospital had been, despite Aunt Hope’s still-mending wrist. Entries on what she experienced in the English church weren’t so very Amish, but Bethany would understand.

There was the rosy color in Leanne’s baby’s cheeks to document, and what it was like to cook with gas instead of their wood-burning stove. It made her blush all over again to write how she’d been wearing that English uniform and caroling into a microphone for the sake of Aunt Hope’s job.

When it came to the details with Daniel—well, they seemed almost too precious to confide via pen and paper. Her heart swelled just to think of the things he’d said to her, and the miracle of what was growing between them. These were secrets she would only write on her heart. She would save them to share with Bethany face to face.

One thing was for certain. This had been a trip she would always remember. How quickly the time had passed. Though so different from what she had known, life in the city had become familiar, and not so frightening as it once had been. It was easy to see how the English world could grow on a person, and how quickly the use of technology could become an everyday practice. She had never considered it a hardship to do without such things. Then again, until now, she hadn’t had much basis for comparison.

Despite the differences, some of the essentials seemed exactly the same. When morning came, she rose, said a prayer of thanks, and began to make breakfast for everyone, just like she always did at home. Work at the Café Troubadour was brisk, but no more so than her regular chores. What she enjoyed, she realized, were not the glittery trappings of modern life. It was the people she lived and worked with there that were finding a place in her heart. Customers were beginning to ask for her, and call her by name. Even Goldie. Now, Christmas week was upon them. It was hard to believe that, in just a matter of days, they’d be boarding the train once again.

Charity placed napkins and utensils around a booth at the café. There was something satisfying about resetting a table that Daniel had freshly bussed. She loved exchanging those affectionate looks with him in passing. They communicated so much. Daniel had become a treasured part of her days, and she relished every moment with him.

Frank and Myrna were growing on her, too.   Also, Shep was a sheer delight. What a special man he was, always a smile and a kind word, and never a complaint. She wondered just how it was that he’d learned all the music he seemed to know, how despite his blindness, his fingers found their way so effortlessly across the piano keys.
It must be a gift
, she decided.

Charity watched as Shep accompanied Aunt Hope, his faithful guide dog lounging at his feet. Shep softly swayed on his bench as Hope sang to the café’s patrons. It wasn’t a carol Charity had heard before, but the melody was liltingly pleasant. Most of all, it was the lyrics that caught her attention. It was something about a vow to be home for Christmas, a promise to be counted on for certain, whether in reality or in a dream.

There was such a faraway look in her Aunt Hope’s eyes as she sang that particular song. There was a bittersweet longing, the likes of which Charity hadn’t yet seen. She could only hope her aunt meant those words she was singing, and that something in that song was helping her to make peace with the idea of finally returning home.

Something about Ivan was growing on Charity. It was hard to put her finger on exactly what it was. Maybe it was pity over his childhood. Maybe it was the way he kept going to Aunt Hope’s church and remained such a jubilant part of the choir each Sunday, even after she had broken things off with him. It could have been the shoeblack stains on his fingertips, how it told of much hard work. Then again, it was probably the way he’d wait outside the Troubadour each night at closing time, wanting to see Aunt Hope safely back to her apartment.

Manhattan was pretty at night. Charity had to admit it. Though a crush of sights and sounds, it seemed more tranquil somehow, once night fell. There was something blissful about strolling back toward Hope’s apartment—Daniel at her side, and Ivan at Aunt Hope’s—the city sparkling with a million lights. It begged her to drink in the moment.

Along the way, they came upon a makeshift forest of fresh cut Christmas trees. Aunt Hope paused. She took an evergreen bough in her hand, leaned close, and drank in the aroma.

The tree vendor ambled over. “We got your blue spruce, your balsam fir, scotch pine... Take your pick.”

Aunt Hope turned. “Pure heaven, aren’t they?”

Charity took a whiff. “By now, Dat has brought cut greens inside from the woods. I suppose the twins helped him to arrange them this year. I’ll bring the holly in from the yard on Christmas Eve so the berries will be fresh yet.”

Daniel took in the scent. “Getting close now.”

“Who lights the Christmas candle these days?” Aunt Hope asked.

“I do. Or I should say, I have.” It touched Charity to realize that Aunt Hope remembered their family tradition after so many years. “It’ll pass to the twins next, although I don’t know which one will do it. Aaron thinks it should come to him since he was born first. But Dat said it’s the candle or carving the turkey. Of course, Aaron doesn’t want to give that up either, but one or the other will go to Isaac.”

Aunt Hope smiled wryly. “I’d definitely hold out for the candle.”

The tree vendor straightened a stately tree. “Just so you know... These beauties are all twenty-five percent off since it’s Christmas week.”

Ivan’s eyes lit up as he turned to Aunt Hope. “Would you like one? I would be glad to carry it for you.”

Aunt Hope looked over the tree longingly. Finally, she shook her head with a glance toward Charity and Daniel. “No. Christmas trees...see, Ivan, the Amish, they don’t really have them in their homes.  Their decorations are much simpler, so—”

“A wreath, then,” Ivan went on, “for your door. I insist.”

Charity glanced between them. “A wreath is just a small gathering of greenery. Could be a good compromise.” Daniel nodded in agreement.

Aunt Hope pressed her lips. “Well...”

Ivan took Aunt Hope by her good arm. “Let me do this. Come over here, and we will pick out a nice one.” She looked back only briefly as Ivan led her away, toward the display of wreaths.

As they waited, Charity wandered the lot with Daniel. Soon, they were surrounded by evergreens. In a way, it was as if the city had disappeared. Charity took in the aroma of balsam. “Not quite like the woods at home, but wonderful still.”

Daniel took Charity in his arms. He drew her close. “I think I like having more trees around me than people,” he confided.

Playfully Charity stepped away. “Should I leave you, then?” She didn’t get far before Daniel pulled her back into a kiss. In the chill of the night air, his warm lips were especially inviting. It was as if he were communicating with her, freely expressing just how much she meant to him. After a moment, Charity broke away from him. She couldn’t help blushing. “Daniel, they’ll come back.”

“And if they do...?” Daniel drew Charity into yet another kiss.

“They’ll see,” Charity whispered, her lips barely leaving his.

“Yes,” Daniel acknowledged, not seeming to mind at all. “They’ll see that I love you more with each passing day. That I want you to be my wife.”

Charity gazed at Daniel, stunned. How far they’d come in such a very short time. There had never been anyone else for her, not in her whole life growing up as his friend and neighbor. But there was so much they hadn’t talked about yet, so much they hadn’t said before this trip.

Everything in her wanted to accept his proposal immediately. She longed to talk all about being published at church, to commit to a life with him amongst the Amish. But how could she not feel torn by the unresolved situation with Aunt Hope? Still, there was no mistaking it. The pull of his heart on hers was undeniable. Where were the words?

Taking her hands in his, Daniel looked full into Charity’s face. He never wavered, almost as if he knew what she was thinking. “I realize that you have family obligations,” he began, “and that there are many things you need to put to mind yet. I promise, I will do my best not to press you. But when we get back, know this is my intent.”

Hope unlocked her apartment, then stood aside for Charity to enter. Ivan lingered at the door with Daniel, examining the burnished brass knocker. No doubt, he had spotted it as a place to attach the wreath.
Men love a project
, Hope recalled. They would waste no time embarking upon this one.

Inside, Leanne wrapped a soft cotton blanket around her freshly changed baby. Hope was surprised to see a box of diapers and an array of infant products on the coffee table. Frankly, Hope hadn’t expected to see the baby still there at all. Hadn’t Leanne’s appointment with the adoption agency been that afternoon?

As much as she was tempted to ask about it, Hope reminded herself not to push.  Just like Hope, Leanne was at a crossroads. She faced a decision that would define the rest of her life, and she needed to make it herself.

Ivan released the knocker with a clack. “Daniel, do you have some twine?”

Charity removed her bonnet. “You could use some of my thread. I have a heavy gauge spool that would work.” With that, Charity was off to fetch her sewing basket.

Leanne bounced the baby in her arms, an eye toward Ivan at the door. “Well, good. You got a wreath to hang. It’s about time it started lookin’ like Christmas around here.”

As she took off her coat, Hope wandered over toward Leanne and the baby. “Leanne, I thought... What’s all this?”

Leanne used a small cloth to blot spit-up from the baby’s face. “I know. I know. I told you I was givin’ him up this morning. I even went by the adoption place. But he’s so little... I decided to keep him a few more days. Let him get stronger, you know?” 

It was a delicate subject Hope knew she needed to broach. Better not to loom over Leanne for this. She took a seat beside her on the sofa. The baby’s eyes fluttered to a close as he drifted off to sleep. So tiny and sweet. No wonder Leanne had found it difficult to part with him. Surely, bonds were already growing as she’d been nursing him at her breast.

Hope loved everything about babies, from the scent of an infant’s head to its impossibly tiny fingers and toes with those paper-thin nails. How long had she dreamed of having a child of her own one day? The nagging questions for her were always
where
and
with whom
. That was part of what had made the decision to reject Ivan’s proposal so difficult. Her own procrastination gnawing at her, she turned to Leanne. “You know it won’t be any easier to give him up down the road.”

Leanne stroked her baby’s soft tuft of dark hair. “Tell me somethin’ I don’t know. Truth is, I hate to give him up at all. I just don’t see how I can work and take care of him. Poor little guy don’t even have a name yet. How pitiful is that?”