Amish Christmas Memories (Indiana Amish Brides Book 2)

by Vannetta Chapman

  “And you can’t remember any details of your past?”

  “Not at first. A few things have returned since then—the name of my bruder, that I wore sunglasses, a couple of childhood memories.”

  “How interesting.” Doreen sounded delighted to be presented with such a challenge. She hobbled over to the stove and set a kettle on the burner.

  Caleb glanced at Rachel in alarm. “I’m not sure we can stay long enough—”

  “Nonsense. It’s rude to not offer guests a cup of tea. Isn’t that right, Peaches?” The bird’s head and back were adorned with turquoise blue feathers, but its breast was a bright orange.

  It squawked, “Tea,” and then flew away to perch in the boxed windowsill amid a sea of plants.

  “Macaws aren’t the smartest parrots...”

  “Smart bird.” Peaches’s head bobbed up and down when he spoke.

  “African gray parrots are better at understanding and mimicking human speech, but Peaches is good company.”

  “Good company.” The bird began to groom himself, and Caleb didn’t know whether to laugh or hang his head in his hands. Who let a bird fly around their home? There wasn’t a cage in sight. Doreen made a cooing sound, pulled a baby carrot from her sweater pocket and offered it to the bird, who squawked, “Carrot,” and snatched it from her hand.

  “Do you think you can help me?” Rachel asked.

  Doreen’s back was to them as she fiddled with the teakettle. Rachel glanced at Caleb, then pressed her fingers over her lips in an attempt to hold in her laughter.

  “A cheerful heart is good medicine,” Doreen said, pulling three cups and saucers from her cabinet. There was no place to put them on the counter, so Caleb jumped up and took them, carrying them over to the table. Doreen followed with a metal tin. Her hands shaking, she slowly opened it, dug around among the contents, pulled out three bags and placed them in the mugs. “The Good Book says that.”

  “Proverbs,” Rachel said.

  “Proverbs,” squawked Peaches, though his attention had switched to a solid yellow cat. He dropped to the floor, strutted across the room to the cat, who was lying near the back door, and began to preen it.

  “Yes. Now, some people think herbs are just weeds, but we know better—Peaches and I do. Gotte gives us everything we need. People have been using plants for medicine since Adam and Eve stepped out of the garden—after all, there were no pharmacies then.”

  “What kinds of things do you treat?” Rachel asked.

  “Mistletoe can help with a nervous disposition or high blood pressure.”

  “I don’t have either of those things.”

  “Peppermint helps with sleeplessness.”

  “She doesn’t have trouble sleeping,” Caleb said. If they didn’t move this along, they’d be here all afternoon. They hadn’t come for a botany lesson. In fact, he couldn’t quite remember now why he’d thought this would be a good idea.

  If Doreen heard him, she chose not to respond.

  “Rhubarb is useful for eczema or arthritis.” Her hands shook as she reached for Rachel’s and covered them with her own. “Now, your situation is unusual. I would normally use ginkgo leaves for someone who is confused, but you seem mentally alert.”

  “Ya, I think I am.”

  “What you need, what I’ve put in your cup, is rosemary.”

  “Rosemary?” Rachel asked.

  “Rosemary,” Peaches squawked, flying across the room and landing on the table.

  Caleb jumped backward, causing his chair to scrape against the floor. He couldn’t believe he was seeing a large blue-and-orange bird on a kitchen table. Certainly, that couldn’t be healthy.

  At the same moment, the kettle whistled. Caleb jumped up. “I’ll fetch that.” He did not want to drink anything Doreen gave him. What if the parrot had been in her cabinets? What type of disease could they catch from the bird? Or the cats? He might as well eat off the barn floor.

  Rachel seemed nowhere near as tense as he was. In fact, she actually seemed to be considering drinking the rosemary tea.

  He filled their cups, then stood behind Doreen, telling Rachel with hand motions not to drink or eat anything. Rachel, being more than a little mischievous, smiled at him, raised the cup to her lips and nearly drained the contents in one swallow.

  “That’s a girl.” Doreen dunked her own tea bag up and down. “I think your beau will enjoy it, as well. What was your name, young man?”

  “Caleb.” He shrugged back into his coat. “I just remembered somewhere we need to be.”

  “Need to be,” the bird squawked and jumped to Doreen’s shoulder, where it began to poke its beak in the woman’s purple cap.

  “One of the reasons I wear the cap in the house.” Doreen smiled as if she’d said the most clever thing. “It’s better than having my hair preened. Peaches is very affectionate.”

  Caleb wanted to leave—immediately.

  Rachel was in much less of a hurry. She wouldn’t meet his gaze, and he couldn’t quite tell if she found this situation humorous, or if she was simply hiding the anger she was going to unleash on him once they were back in the buggy. Not that he would blame her.

  “Danki for the tea, Doreen. Do we owe you anything?”

  “For a cup of tea?”

  Caleb had walked around the table and was pulling Rachel to her feet. She continued trying to thank Doreen. Peaches was squawking about seeds and carrots. Yet another cat had jumped into Caleb’s vacated seat. He felt as if he was caught in a bad dream.

  * * *

  Rachel’s life had been topsy-turvy since she’d opened her eyes with no memories the week before. It had been dramatic and terrible and frightening and difficult. Today was like the cherry on someone’s ice-cream sundae. She honestly didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

  Caleb practically pulled her out of Doreen’s house—the bird was still squawking and one of the cats tried to follow them outside, but Doreen scooped it up in her arms. Rachel glanced back to see Doreen standing in the doorway, Peaches on her shoulder, one cat in her arms and another rubbing against her legs. The dear old woman waved at them and hollered, “Come back anytime.”

  Which didn’t seem likely.

  Caleb seemed intent to get her into the buggy as quickly as possible. Even the gelding, Stormy, seemed surprised to see them back so soon. How long had they been inside Doreen’s house? Fifteen minutes? Twenty at the most.

  She climbed up into the buggy and pulled the buggy blanket over her lap. Caleb jumped in, called out to Stormy and took off at a speed that had the gelding tossing his head and threatening to break into a gallop.

  And then it happened. All of the tension and worry and anxiety of the last week caught up with her. She sat forward and covered her face with her hands.

  “I’m sorry, Rachel. I really am.”

  She took two deep breaths—she knew what was coming, but was powerless to stop it.

  “That was one of my worst ideas ever. I’d heard that Doreen had gone a little strange, but I had no idea...” Caleb touched her shoulder. “Are you okay?”

  He called to Stormy and pulled the horse over into a parking area. “Are you—are you crying? Wait...you’re laughing?”

  Her shoulders shook and her laughter came from a place deep inside. She laughed until she had to clasp her stomach from the ache. Tears sprang from her eyes, and every time she thought she had control of herself, she’d glance at Caleb—Caleb, who was staring at her with eyes wide and a look of disbelief on his face—and she’d dissolve into laughter again.

  He waited her out and handed her a handkerchief when she seemed to be finished.

  “Oh, my. I haven’t laughed that hard since my sister fell in our pond trying to pull in a fish.” Another puzzle piece, and she knew then, she was convinced, that there would be more until her life resembled something
that she recognized. “The look on your face when Peaches jumped on the table made me wish I had an Englisch camera.”

  “Never seen anything like it.” He crossed his arms as if he was still perturbed about the whole thing.

  “And your pantomiming not to drink.” Laughter spilled out of her again and she wiped at her eyes.

  “So why did you drink it?”

  “I thought that was the reason you took me there—to receive Doreen’s cure.”

  “You did it to spite me.”

  “Actually it simply seemed polite, and I didn’t think a little rosemary could hurt me. Seems my mamm used to add some to our tea when we had a headache.”

  “Cats all over the place, plants everywhere, that bird... It was a nightmare.”

  “Carrot,” Rachel squawked, and then she was laughing again, only this time Caleb joined her.

  She was rearranging the blanket on her lap, trying to get control of her emotions, when he reached across and placed his hand under her chin, turning her face toward him. His touch caused her stomach to do funny things, or maybe that was the burst of laughter or even the rosemary tea.

  “You’re something else, Rachel. You’re a special woman. Did you know?”

  “Because I can laugh at an old woman’s attempts to lighten other people’s loads?”

  “Because you can find the humor even in an extremely uncomfortable situation.” She had the bizarre thought that he was going to kiss her then, but instead he pulled back his hand and picked up the horse’s reins.

  They continued toward home, and though the clouds still pressed down, Rachel’s heart felt lighter. “Parrots are known for their problem-solving abilities, and the African gray she mentioned? It’s said they have the intelligence of a five-year-old but the temperament of a two-year-old.”

  “A two-year-old that never grows up.”

  “Indeed, but I suspect Peaches is a good companion for Doreen.”

  Caleb shifted in his seat. “Are you going to the restaurant tomorrow...to work?”

  “I suppose. I really should find a job. Sitting around all day isn’t helping me, though the knitting...it makes me feel calmer.”

  “Wasn’t the schoolhouse on Amos’s list?”

  “Ya. I thought I would try it if the restaurant doesn’t work out.”

  “Maybe you should try the schoolhouse first.”

  “Why? I’m not sure they really need me. Most schools have only one teacher. Amos said the teacher in your community could use an extra hand during the holidays, preparing for the school play and all. I had the feeling it was a charity position if nothing else worked out for me.”

  “I know Martha. She’s a gut teacher, but she definitely has her hands full. Our schoolhouse is brimming with children. Plans are to build another and divide in the summer.”

  “Why do you think I should work there?”

  “Because you know things.”

  “I know things?”

  “Ya. Like about the parrots.”

  “Oh, that was just...something I remembered.”

  “And the snake. Remember all the things you told me about snakes?”

  “Why did I know that?”

  “I think maybe you were a teacher before. That would even explain the book of poetry you were carrying with you.”

  Rachel stared out the window at the snowy fields. Could she see herself teaching? She supposed she could. She wasn’t sure she had the temperament for it—her moods were too up and down, but perhaps it had been something that she was good at.

  She turned toward Caleb and studied his profile. He was a nice-looking man, and he was trying to help her. “Your last idea was terrible.”

  “True.”

  “I want to continue seeing Dr. Michie.”

  “Can’t blame you. She probably doesn’t have cats or parrots in her office.”

  “But I think you might be right.”

  “You do?”

  “Ya. I’ll go to the schoolhouse tomorrow. We’ll see what Martha says.”

  Chapter Nine

  The next week flew by for Rachel.

  She saw Dr. Michie two more times. Though she was still remembering very little of her past, she was learning to cope with her current situation. She didn’t mention her moods to the doctor. Frankly, she was embarrassed that she woke each day feeling as if she couldn’t crawl out of bed. Once up, after she’d had coffee and eaten, her mood usually improved. If the weather was sunny, she walked to the little one-room school. If it was snowing or if the wind was blowing, Caleb or John drove her there. As far as the evenings went, some were good and some were bad. Wasn’t that true for everyone?

  She kept her appointment with the medical doctor who had treated her at the hospital. Dr. Gold assured her that she was healing, and reminded her that “these things take time.”

  Martha was easy to work with. She was a few years younger than Rachel, and she planned to marry as soon as school was out. There would be openings for two new teachers, since the board had decided to proceed with plans to build an additional schoolhouse on the far side of the district. Rachel sometimes wondered if she should apply for the job, but as Dr. Michie had told her, “Don’t worry about making tomorrow’s decisions today.”

  So she’d focused on the children and the upcoming Christmas play, and in her spare time she did those things that Dr. Michie had suggested. On the afternoons Caleb picked her up from the school, they drove in a random direction to help her look for anything familiar. A comfortable friendship developed between them and maybe something more.

  Sometimes when she thought of how much she owed the good man sitting next to her in the buggy, how Gotte had blessed her life with the presence of him, she was certain that their friendship would develop into love. Each night she’d allow her mind to play back the events of the day—and more often than not, her thoughts focused on something Caleb had said, or the casual touch of his hand as he helped her into or out of the buggy, or the way her heart raced when she looked up from her knitting and caught him studying her. Was that love? Did she care for Caleb the way a wife cared for a husband? And did he return her feelings?

  The knitting was the only thing that completely relaxed her. Because she had to focus on counting her stitches and following a pattern that she somehow remembered, she wasn’t able to worry or question or think. She found that creating something that would be useful to someone else gave her a sense of satisfaction. Perhaps she had been a skilled knitter in her other life. She might never know. More and more she was coming to terms with that.

  One night she’d stayed up past everyone else. The house smelled of fresh cedar and pinecones and baked desserts. Candles adorned every windowsill, and three wrapped presents in plain brown paper with midnight blue bows were arranged on the top shelf of the bookcase. Ida was in full holiday mode.

  It was hard for Rachel to fathom that it was the week before Christmas. Her dreams of being home for the holidays seemed foolish now. She still didn’t know where home was. She was alone in the sitting room when Caleb’s dat wandered in claiming he was suddenly hungry and needed a small snack.

  He brought back the pitcher of milk, two glasses and the coconut-cream pie that Ida had made for dinner.

  “Actually I’m full, but danki.”

  “You’re very welcome. Since you don’t want any, maybe I’ll just finish it.” He smiled at her and wiggled his eyebrows, as if this would be their little secret.

  Rachel continued knitting. Christmas would arrive before she knew it, and she still didn’t have all the projects done she’d hoped to finish.

  John ate his pie in silence, and then he sat back and stared at the fire in the potbelly stove.

  “When I met Ida, I knew she was the one, but Ida...she wasn’t so sure.”

  Rachel glanced up in surprise. John smiled weakly and th
en turned his attention back toward the fire.

  “She wasn’t being unkind, but she wanted to be sure—absolutely sure was the way she put it.”

  “That’s a rare thing, to be absolutely sure of something, to be beyond-a-doubt sure.”

  “Indeed it is. I was persistent, and eventually she agreed to marry me.”

  “So it was love.”

  “Maybe...or maybe it became love sometime down the road.” He stood and returned his dishes to the kitchen. She heard the water running as he rinsed his plate and cup. When he walked back into the sitting room, he picked up where he’d left off—or maybe he simply said what he’d meant to say all along. “We’ve had a gut life, me and Ida. I’m glad she gave me a chance. Sometimes that is all it takes, you know—giving love a chance to grow.”

  He walked over and kissed her on top of the head, something that surprised Rachel as much as his words. She stayed up another hour, the knitting sitting in her lap unfinished, her eyes on the fire and her heart wondering if she was brave enough to give Caleb a chance.

  * * *

  Caleb was supposed to pick Rachel up the next day. He made the mistake of arriving a few minutes early. There was a literal traffic jam of buggies in the schoolyard. He should have come later, but he hadn’t wanted her to start walking home. It was snowing and nearly dark outside, though the time was only four in the afternoon. A line of buggies waited to pick up children, which was quite unusual. Amish students were made of hardy stuff. They were used to walking to and from school. Next thing he knew they’d be whipping out cell phones to call their parents to come and get them.

  That was a ridiculous thought, and he knew it.

  Still, he didn’t like change—any hint of change caused his anxiousness to rise like cream in a pail of fresh milk.

  Then he walked into the classroom and saw the decorations and the children, and he knew—absolutely knew—that he should turn around and walk back out.

  Too late for that, though. Rachel had spied him and was walking toward him with a strained smile on her face.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.