Christmas Comes to Morning Star

by Charlotte Hubbard

  “I’m keeping a straight face,” Marietta replied. “If we make the least suggestion that something has happened here today, we’ll spill the whole bag of beans. It’s been a challenge to keep this secret from Billy Jay, you know.”

  Molly couldn’t miss the fondness in her twin’s voice as she spoke of the boy. She’d said enough for one day about Marietta possibly joining the Detweiler family, however, so she focused on untying Opal from the hitching rail.

  “For all we know, Pete will let the cat out of the bag,” she said as she joined her sister in the buggy. “But we can hope he and Glenn are having a gut time and lifting each other’s spirits.”

  “That’s what friends are for,” Marietta agreed.

  * * *

  “You can’t possibly ruin your chances with Marietta, Glenn,” Pete insisted. Even though it made pains shoot up his left leg, he sat up straighter on the couch, hoping to convince his friend once and for all. “Okay, so maybe you played your hand a little too soon—but you’re still holding all the aces, buddy! Once you leave the Helfing place—and take your boys with you—I guarantee you she’ll show up on your doorstep in a day or two, because she’ll miss them.”

  “But what about missing me?” Glenn protested. “I’m the one who’ll be providing for her and giving her a new home and—”

  Detweiler speared his hand through his dark hair in frustration. “Of course, all I could think when I left that place today was that no woman in her right mind would want to live there. Every time Gabe and I took a step, it echoed like a tomb without any rugs or curtains or furniture to absorb the sound.”

  “But if you’ll check back over there, I bet you’ll find—” Pete caught himself just in time to keep from ruining the surprise Uncle Jeremiah and the others were working on. He glanced at the wall clock. “It—it’s only a matter of time before your new home will come together, Glenn. You’ve just got to believe.”

  “Believe,” the man seated beside him muttered. “You remind me of one of those English posters that picture Santa and his sleigh and just that one word, Believe. Billy Jay’s still of an age to hang his hopes on Christmas magic, but I’m way beyond that.”

  As Pete’s mammi came into the front room with their lunch, she winked subtly at Pete, and he returned her gesture. “Oh, but all of us have an inner child, Glenn, no matter how old we get,” she said kindly. “And we should let that child out to play every now and again, even when it feels silly or impossible.”

  She handed Glenn and Pete each a plate that held an open-faced, hot roast beef sandwich, mashed potatoes smothered in gravy, and green beans. “We Amish might not celebrate Christmas with Santa, but the Man in Red has it right when it comes to his spirit of generosity and his unconditional love for children—we are all God’s children, ain’t so?” she pointed out. “I believe in the basic gutness of people. And I believe that when they give with their whole hearts, miracles happen. Just you wait and see, Glenn.”

  “Denki for this fine lunch, Margaret,” Glenn mumbled, focusing on his meal. While she returned to the kitchen, he savored a bite of gravy-covered beef so tender he could cut it with his fork.

  “I really didn’t come over to talk about Marietta, you know,” he informed Pete. “I came to tell you that I intend to finish up your remodeling project here as a way to return the huge favor you’ve done for me and my family.”

  Pete’s forkful of mashed potatoes stopped short of his mouth. “No need to do that, Glenn! Before you know it, I’ll be up and around, so I can take up where I left off—”

  His companion’s raised eyebrows, and his meaningful gaze at Pete’s leg cast and bandaged arm, cut Pete’s protest short. “How do you figure to heft kitchen cabinets into place with your wing in a sling?” Glenn demanded. “And how long do you think you’ll be able to stand on that bum leg while you work?”

  “Uncle Jeremiah said he’d help me now that I’m home from the hospital,” Pete replied. “He’s a pretty fair carpenter—”

  “So am I,” Detweiler pointed out. “And I’m not going to take no for an answer. The Marketplace won’t be open for the next two Saturdays, so I’m putting my efforts toward getting your projects finished—if only because Margaret deserves to have her house in order again.”

  Pete couldn’t suppress a grin or miss a chance to lead Glenn astray a little. “It would be perfectly understandable if you chose to work on projects for your own place,” he pointed out. “You’re the one saying Marietta won’t want to live there until you can offer her some furniture and the other comforts of a home. Do you figure to build her a special bedroom set, or will you buy one from the Flauds?”

  Glenn stuffed a big forkful of mashed potatoes into his mouth. When he’d chewed and swallowed, he glared at Pete. “Will you lay off the subject of Marietta? She’s declared her intentions, and she says she doesn’t need a husband—doesn’t need me.”

  Pete had known his friend long enough to hear a different issue between the lines of Glenn’s protest. “You came over here to avoid being at her place for lunch today, didn’t you?”

  “Puh! Dat’s there, along with Levi and Molly,” Glenn shot back. “It’s not as though Marietta and I would be sitting at the table by ourselves trying to figure out what to say to each other.”

  “Maybe you should have a talk with her. Are you going to let her have the last word?”

  Exasperated, Glenn set his plate on the coffee table with a loud thunk. “What’d they do to you in the hospital, Shetler?” he demanded. “Are you on a bunch of drugs? I didn’t think it was possible, but you seem even more hardheaded now than you were before you fell off my roof! And I told you not to go up there last Monday morning because it was icy, ain’t so?”

  Pete laughed out loud—but he had to stop, because laughing made his whole upper body hurt. “Now you sound like the Detweiler I know,” he said. “After all that’s happened to you these past several months, it’s gut to know your spirit—your inner kid—is still in there, trying to shine through.”

  Before Glenn could shrug him off, Pete added, “I hope that along with celebrating Jesus’ birthday, you’ll soon be celebrating you again, Glenn. With Marietta,” he insisted gently. “Because she’s right for you. And because, hey—it’s the season for miracles, jah?”

  Chapter 25

  As Glenn parked his double rig alongside the other buggies lined up on the schoolhouse grounds for the Christmas Eve program, he allowed himself a few moments to adjust his attitude. Billy Jay had been fidgety, insisting he needed to join the other scholars and Teacher Lydianne downstairs for their final instructions, so he’d hopped out at the front steps. Dat and Marietta had gotten out there, too. Molly had driven the Helfings’ rig so she could visit Pete when the program was over.

  With a steady snow falling, Glenn fastened Nick’s fitted blanket over his back before he led the gelding to the corral and pole barn where the other horses were. He gazed up into the clouded night sky, allowing the flakes to tickle his cheeks in the hush of this special evening. When he’d been a scholar, the school program had been exciting yet nerve-racking: he’d been eager to muddle through his recitation so he could enjoy the refreshments and the days of Christmas vacation that followed.

  This year, however, Glenn couldn’t muster the sense of wonder and joy he usually felt at Christmas. He realized that this was because of his bereavement, yet he longed for a sign that his life would take a turn for the better. He’d worked at Jeremiah’s place all day—and with Pete’s armchair assistance, he and the bishop had installed the kitchen cabinets and made a lot of progress. He’d been happy to spend the day there rather than at his empty new house or at the Helfing place . . . because Pete had nailed it.

  Glenn couldn’t muster the courage to speak with Marietta, to change her mind about becoming his wife. Supper had been sheer torture, sitting at the table as she and Molly and Dat chatted with Billy Jay about the Christmas Eve programs of their days as scholars. The girls had carried on an
animated conversation—almost as though they shared a secret, as twins often did. Yet when Marietta had glanced his way, it felt as though she’d closed the shutters of her soul to him.

  Marietta had been very quiet during the buggy ride to the school, as well. It didn’t take a genius to realize that she was uncomfortable in Glenn’s presence—and probably deeply disappointed in him. She was undoubtedly ready for him to be at the new place instead of hanging around hers, where she was constantly reminded that he’d proposed to her mere weeks after he’d publicly pursued Lydianne Christner—without bothering to take Marietta on a date or asking to court her first.

  But he couldn’t take the boys and Dat to stay at the new house, because where would they sleep? And how would they prepare meals without dishes and utensils? Most folks would simply go to a store and buy the items they needed, but in his grief, Glenn felt frozen in place—and totally inept.

  He didn’t know what it took to restock a home, because he’d relied upon his wife to do that. And when it came to replacing the curtains Dorcas had sewn and the everyday items she’d created without a second thought, Glenn couldn’t seem to make any decisions. He felt he’d be dishonoring his late wife’s memory if he chose household items, because the store-bought replacements would never measure up to what she would’ve created.

  So it was easier to stay with the Helfing twins, even though Marietta was giving him the ultimate cold shoulder.

  Truth be told, his father and his boys loved being in the twins’ home. Spending Christmas with the Helfings, where they would enjoy festive food and the comforts they’d grown used to, was a powerful incentive for staying put until the holiday was behind them.

  “What am I supposed to do?” Glenn prayed aloud. He gazed into the cloudy heavens, wishing for the appearance of a sign—a bright, unmistakable star to follow.

  But he was no wise man. He didn’t even qualify as much of a shepherd, because he had no idea how to keep his little flock fed and cared for—and there would be no host of angels coming to proclaim any sort of good news to him. That only happened in Bible stories, after all. Centuries had gone by since anyone had reported such a spectacular angelic happening.

  The muffled clip-clopping of hooves in the snow pulled Glenn from his musings. In spite of his misgivings, he greeted Tim Nissley and Matthias Wagler as they approached the corral. “Gut evening,” he called out. “I bet you’ve had excited girls at your houses today.”

  “Oh my,” Tim said with a laugh. “Ella is so excited, she spent all day playing with our Nativity figures—”

  “Jah, Gracie’s memorized everyone else’s part for the program as well as her own,” Matthias put in jovially. “I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve heard the entire program over the past couple of days.”

  Glenn managed a smile. “I suspect girls catch onto their parts easier than boys—although Billy Jay’s been a real trooper. He’s learned his lines better than I ever did.”

  Waving at the two men, he set off toward the schoolhouse. The light spilling from the windows made golden patches on the snow and gave the white building a welcoming glow. As Glenn stepped inside, he saw that nearly everyone had arrived—and from across the crowd, Dat was waving his arm exuberantly to get his attention.

  For this annual occasion, the scholars’ desks had been moved downstairs so folding chairs could be set up in the center of the classroom. The chairs were intended for older folks who couldn’t stand up through the whole program, so lots of the scholars’ parents stood on the two sides and in the back of the room.

  Glenn sighed. Dat was seated on the end of the second row, with Marietta beside him, holding Levi on her shoulder. The only logical place for Glenn to stand was beside her, wasn’t it?

  And indeed, as Glenn headed toward the woman who’d so bluntly rejected him, folks in the crowd made way for him as though they assumed he and Marietta would soon be a couple. Keeping a pleasant expression on his face, Glenn greeted the Hartzlers and the Slabaughs, Jude Shetler and his family, the Millers, and the Flauds. As he approached his father, he spotted Molly leaning against the schoolroom’s side wall—and she seemed to be watching him with a secretive smile.

  Did Molly know something he didn’t? Or was she thinking ahead to a visit with Pete? The incapacitated carpenter would be spending the evening at home alone—which sounded like a fine idea to Glenn as he took his place slightly behind Marietta. He playfully tapped Levi’s upturned nose, making the boy giggle.

  Teacher Lydianne came up from the lower level. She took her place in the center of a specially built dais about two feet high that spanned the front of the room and began to speak.

  “Welcome to this program on the holiest of nights,” she said happily. “Our scholars have worked very diligently these past weeks, and I’d like to thank you all for practicing with them at home and for supporting them with your presence here. Please join us when we sing the carols that are interspersed between recitations of the Scripture and the other narratives! We’ll begin the evening with ‘The First Noel.’”

  Lydianne led the singing in a clear, resonant voice, and soon the students were filing up the stairs to take their places on the dais. Even though there were only eight scholars, the room was packed, because everyone in the congregation attended the yearly program. As the folks behind him shifted to get a better view, Glenn found himself standing smack against Marietta’s shoulder and hip. Levi flashed him a toothless grin, as though he were enjoying his dat’s predicament.

  Was it his imagination, or had the schoolroom become much warmer? The rise in temperature surely had to be the reason Marietta’s dewy cheek was turning pink, because she wasn’t paying Glenn a speck of attention. She was focused solely on Billy Jay, who stood in the front row along with Stevie, Ella, and Gracie. Billy Jay was looking right back at her, too, his eyes alight with childlike joy.

  Glenn blinked. His boy’s black hair was freshly cut—rounded like a bowl, with the bangs straight across. Billy Jay was wearing a new deep green shirt Glenn had never seen—and his black pants were new, too; they reached the tops of his shiny black shoes instead of stopping a few inches short like his old pair. As he sang, flashing the empty gap where a new front tooth was growing in, he appeared happy and well cared for.

  And I have Marietta to thank for that. I didn’t lift a finger, yet Billy Jay no longer wears that forlorn, hangdog look of a boy who’s lost his mother.

  At Teacher Lydianne’s cue, the crowd began to sing “O Come, All Ye Faithful.” Dat’s bass voice sounded firm and steady, and around the room other men sang the lower parts while most of the women carried the melody. Beside him, Marietta’s alto notes were firm and unwavering—and Glenn found himself blending his voice with hers as he harmonized on the tenor line.

  When the carol ended, Lorena Flaud stepped forward to recite the familiar passage from Luke about Caesar Augustus’s tax decree. Glenn realized he was breathing in sync with Marietta, who was so close that he could recognize the faint aroma of the ham she’d fried for their supper.

  Maybe it wasn’t so bad to be pressed against her. She couldn’t fault him for taking undue advantage of his positioning in the crowded schoolroom, after all.

  Maybe he should savor these moments while they stood together as a family, because when the program was over, Marietta would keep her distance again, and his loneliness would return fourfold to haunt him.

  Glenn got so caught up in his thoughts about her, wondering what to do and say so Marietta would want him, that he lost track of the scholars’ recitations for several heavenly minutes.

  “‘. . . and lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid!’”

  Billy Jay’s earnest voice made Glenn refocus on the program, as though he’d never heard the angel’s ancient announcement to the shepherds.

  “‘And the angel said unto them fear not!’” his son continued boldly. “‘For, behold, I bring you good tidin
gs of great joy which shall be to all people. For—for unto you is born this day in the city of David a—a Savior, which is Christ the Lord.’”

  Aware that he’d stumbled a bit, Billy Jay took a breath and stood taller. “‘And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger,’” he continued confidently. He was looking straight at Marietta, and she was returning his trusting gaze as she held her breath.

  “‘And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying, Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men!’”

  Marietta let out a delighted sigh, her face aglow with pride—the same sense of accomplishment Glenn acknowledged as he, too, beamed at his boy. Teacher Lydianne began “Angels We Have Heard on High,” and everyone in the crowded room joined in with gusto—especially on the “Gloria in excelsis Deo” chorus.

  Glenn, however, was so overwhelmed with emotion that he couldn’t get the words out. He was having another one of those moments Bishop Jeremiah had warned him about—a sneaky grief attack, just when he’d thought he’d put his sorrow behind him for the evening.

  Fear not! The angel—and Billy Jay—have said this so many times lately. Maybe I should listen. Maybe God’s speaking to ME, through His word.

  Glenn inhaled abruptly, hoping he wasn’t being presumptuous.

  He realized then, as he tried to identify the many emotions filling his heart, that it was gratitude welling up inside him. Marietta, in her quiet and unassuming way, had held his family together during the darkness that had nearly swallowed him whole. She hadn’t become caretaker of the Detweiler tribe expecting any repayment—and she clearly hadn’t assumed responsibility for his sons to gain favor with Glenn, as some women would’ve done.

  Marietta was simply living out a life of love as Christ had modeled it in the Bible. She was doing what needed to be done, willingly, because she had such a tremendous reservoir of love to share. He and his family were the lucky recipients of her love . . . and God had arranged it all.