by Linda Byler
Suvilla opened her gift, her face an incredulous mask.
Her mouth opened and closed. She stroked the wonderful fabric, smooth and soft, folded and unfolded the handkerchief, then lifted her face with eyes like the twinkling of stars.
“It’s too much,” she said finally.
Annie tried to smile, but found her mouth turning down of its own accord, a stinging in her nose the imposter that brought unwanted tears.
Her beautiful oldest daughter, so young and unspoiled, having gone through so much in her short life. Only God knew how much she had suffered, and how much love and nurturing she would need.
Dan saw Annie’s face, reached for her hand and squeezed, a heartfelt signal of his support, the priceless gift of his love.
Sammy grinned, tried on the scarf and gloves, said it was exactly what he needed, then blushed to the roots of his hair, thinking about asking a certain young lady to the Christmas singing. Ida said it looked as if that scarf was really warm as red as his face became after a while.
They sang Christmas songs, one after another. They played games—tic-tac-toe, dice, ring toss. They popped popcorn, buttered and salted it, drank cider and all the coffee they wanted.
Annie took the two geese from the blue agate roaster, deboned them, mixed the meat with bread cubes, celery, onion, and eggs, popped it back into the oven, and set the potatoes to boil. She roasted squash, turnips, and sweet potatoes, and shredded cabbage for pepper slaw. Suvilla set the table with the best tablecloth, the good china, glass dishes of shivering strawberry jam, dark green pickles, and chow-chow. They shaped the warmed butter into Christmas bells, opened jars of applesauce and grape mush.
The dinner was eaten at three in the afternoon, before chores.
The children were hungry, raking huge amounts of roasht onto their plates, heaping spoonfuls of potatoes and gravy.
The black walnut cake was sliced and devoured with scoops of creamy cornstarch pudding and canned peaches. The mincemeat, cherry, and apple pies were brought from the pantry amid groans of protest.
Everything was just so plentiful, so rich and warm and cozy. The fire crackled in the range, savory odors wafted through the house, filling it with the sense of goodwill. The children sat together, playing games, admiring dolls, rattling horses and wagons across the floor, the security of having a mother and father watching over them.
The snow fell like a benediction that Christmas day, wrapped the house and barn in a soft, glistening blanket, covered the ground like a coating of grace, hiding the mud and weeds and sharp stones, the way Christ’s gift covered the multitude of wrongdoings of men.
All this was not lost on Dan or Annie, as they got up to put another log on the fire, or to fill a glass with grape juice or a cup of coffee.
Bedtime was later; the children’s begging produced results from contented parents who saw nothing wrong with an extension of this joyful day. When at last Annie spied John pushing his horse and wagon while lying prostrate on the floor, his heavy eyelids falling occasionally, she said it was time for the evening prayer, and then rose from her chair and shoed them all to bed, after the evening prayer.
Dan was sweeping the floor when she came back down the stairs, so she began picking up, sorting toys and gloves and socks. She washed dishes while he finished sweeping the kitchen, then grabbed a tea towel and started to dry them.
“Are you very tired?” he asked, in his soft voice.
“I shouldn’t be. We sat around all afternoon,” she said.
“Would you be interested in going for a walk with me?”
“A walk?”
“Yes, in the snow.”
She didn’t hesitate, thinking of the pure snow falling in a gray winter night when every sound was hushed, even footfalls whispered.
After bundling themselves in warm outerwear and heavy boots, they walked past the barn and outbuildings, down the field lane, until the whole world was a sea of white and gray, the snowflakes falling soundlessly as they fell to earth.
Dan stopped, took her shoulder, and turned her toward him, “Annie, I want to tell you now, on this blessed Christmas Day, that you are the best earthly gift I have ever received or even hope to receive in the future. You are an amazing woman.”
She could think of no reply at all, so she said very soft and low, “Oh, Dan. Ach.”
He took her in his arms and kissed her gently, sealing his love for her now and forever.
The snow fell steadily on the farmhouse roof where fourteen children of various ages lay sleeping peacefully, content in the knowledge that they were family now, and would always be, as long as God allowed them to live on this good earth.
THE END
Glossary
Ach—Oh (an expression of surprise)
App schtellt—forbidden
Ausbund—German hymnal
Bowa feesich—bare feet
Die Englishy—the English (non-Amish people)
Doggie fils—a casserole made with sliced hot dogs and cubed bread
Glaeyne frau—my little wife
Greishas—yelling
Grosfeelich—haughty
Gute nacht, Kinna—Good night, children
Hausfrau—housewife
Hesslich—seriously
Kinna—children
Komm na—come now
Kommet—come
Maud—maid
Mold oh—Look here
Opp im kopp—mentally ill; literally, off in the head
Patties noona—Hands down, an expression meaning to pray before a meal
Rumschpringa—The period when young teenagers begin dating
Schnitza—lie
Unbekimmat—uncaring
About the Author
LINDA BYLER WAS RAISED IN AN AMISH FAMILY and is an active member of the Amish church today. Growing up, Linda loved to read and write. In fact, she still does. Linda is well known within the Amish community as a columnist for a weekly Amish newspaper. She writes all her novels by hand in notebooks.
Linda is the author of several series of novels, all set among the Amish communities of North America: Lizzie Searches for Love, Sadie’s Montana, Lancaster Burning, Hester’s Hunt for Home, The Dakota Series, and the Buggy Spoke Series for younger readers. She also wrote The Healing and A Second Chance, as well as several Christmas romances set among the Amish: Mary’s Christmas Goodbye, The Christmas Visitor, The Little Amish Matchmaker, Becky Meets Her Match, A Dog for Christmas, and A Horse for Elsie. Linda has coauthored Lizzie’s Amish Cookbook: Favorite Recipes from Three Generations of Amish Cooks!
OTHER BOOKS BY
LINDA BYLER
SADIE’S MONTANA SERIES
LANCASTER BURNING SERIES
HESTER’S HUNT FOR HOME SERIES
THE DAKOTA SERIES
CHRISTMAS NOVELLLLAS
BUGGY SPOKE SERIES FOR YOUNG READERS
