“I did. I was afraid to, like you’re afraid now. I told myself it would be better if she didn’t know how I felt, but your mamm already knew. She only needed to hear it from me.”
“And she agreed to come here—to Indiana.”
“Ya—eventually she did.”
“What of her parents?”
“They moved to Maine, where one of her bruders had settled with his family.”
“I don’t remember any of this.”
“They died somewhat young, at least it seems that way to me now. Funny how our idea of old age changes the more years we tack on. But they were happy there. And your mamm? I believe she’s been happy here.”
Caleb could lean forward and just see Rachel and his mamm sitting at the table. Both were cradling mugs of tea, the steam rising. Rachel seemed calmer. Perhaps his mamm was right. Maybe a mug of hot tea could cure many things—including homesickness and regret.
“I know the proper thing is to take her home, and I think it’s best if I don’t tell her how I feel. She’s been through so much already. It would be wrong for me to add one more thing...”
“So you’d make her decision for her.” His dat had stopped whittling and was watching him now, waiting.
“You think I should tell her.”
“I’ve already said as much. Rachel’s a grown woman, with a gut head on her shoulders and a big heart. Trust her, and while you’re at it give Gotte a little credit, that He didn’t lead you down this road for no reason. Believe that He has a purpose and a plan.”
The evening passed quickly—what Caleb thought of as their last night together. It wasn’t. They still had Sunday, but he couldn’t help thinking that he wouldn’t see her again, that he’d miss her. They exchanged gifts with Rachel. Her cheeks were flushed, and she continually glanced his way. When she handed him a half-finished sweater, he acted as if he was going to slip it on over his clothes.
“Nein. You can’t wear it until it’s done.”
“You mean it’s not?” He held it up and studied it with one eye closed. “I thought maybe my arm went here,” he said, pointing to a hole.
“Give it back.” She attempted to pull it away from him as she laughed and blushed.
“So you’re going to finish it?”
“I am.”
He rubbed his chin and said, “I suppose you could mail it to me.”
Suddenly the levity between them vanished, as they all remembered anew that this was their last weekend together.
His mamm jumped up to pull a freshly baked peach pie from the oven. His dat pretended he needed to add wood to the blazing fire.
“How about a game of checkers?” Caleb asked gruffly.
“I beat you the last three times.”
“Which doesn’t mean you’ll do so again.”
He told himself to treasure the memories they were making, but in his heart he kept hearing the echoes of his father’s words.
Rachel’s a grown woman, with a gut head on her shoulders and a big heart.
Trust her.
Give Gotte a little credit.
Believe that He has a purpose and a plan.
His dat was spot on, as was usually the case. The question was what he planned to do about it.
Chapter Eleven
Rachel had thought the next day would be difficult. They had a quick breakfast and then bundled up to ride together to church—the second service she’d attended with Caleb and his family. This time was completely different. It seemed the Amish grapevine had been hard at work. Everyone had heard the good news about Rachel. The women hugged her or gave her a pat on the arm. The men nodded and smiled as if their own daughter had been found. It seemed natural at lunch to sit with Beth and Gabriel and baby Simon and Caleb.
“I’m going to miss you all,” she admitted.
Gabriel darted a glance at Caleb and then he said, “There won’t be anyone here to give Caleb a hard time with Christmas plays or inappropriately blue dresses.”
“He told you about that?”
Gabriel laughed when Caleb tried to hit him with a roll. He caught it and stuffed half of it in his mouth.
Beth seemed to understand the feelings Rachel was wrestling with. “You can come back in the spring, for the shearing of the alpacas.”
She glanced at Caleb, who looked as if he was holding his breath.
“Ya. I’d like that.”
He reached for her hand under the table, interlaced his fingers with hers. And for a moment she believed that everything was going to be all right. The day passed in a blur of moments that she vowed to hold on to, memories that she hoped would last her until spring.
* * *
The next morning, she was worried that goodbyes would be difficult, but it seemed that Rachel had cried herself dry the evening before. All that was left was a dull ache as she realized how much she would miss Ida and John and even the alpacas.
She promised to write.
Ida blinked back her tears, and John continually cleared his throat. By the time Rachel and Caleb boarded the bus, the snow had begun to fall again.
“The bus driver assured me the weather won’t slow us down,” Caleb said. “In case you were worried.”
“I wasn’t.”
“At least we have plenty of room.”
There were only about ten passengers on the bus, but still they’d chosen to sit next to each other. What good was having your own row to stretch out in? Rachel didn’t want extra space. She wanted to be with Caleb. But how could she be with him and still be reunited with her family? And what if...what if he didn’t even care for her as she did for him?
Did she love Caleb Wittmer?
Could a person fall in love in such a short time?
But then their time together hadn’t been ordinary in any way. From the moment she’d opened her eyes in his home and looked up into his face, she’d felt as if she’d been living a fairy tale that was both terrible and wonderful beyond her wildest dreams.
“Nervous about seeing your family?”
“Nein. I’m... The thing is that I’m remembering more.”
“That’s gut, right?”
“It is.” As the bus pulled out of Montgomery, she told Caleb about her older brother, how they had all doted on him, since he was the only boy in a home with four young girls.
“I suppose he’s married.”
“He’s not, actually. There was an incident with a girl—she left our Amish community to attend an Englisch college. It broke Ethan’s heart, and he wasn’t ready to try again.”
“Sounds as if you care for him.”
“Very much. He’s a hard worker, and a gut man. A real blessing to my parents.”
“And your schweschdern?”
“Miriam is the oldest.” She stared out the window, wondering what all she had missed in the last three weeks. Was that how long it had been? Seemed longer. Seemed like a lifetime. “She’s expecting, in the spring, I think.”
“You’ll be an aenti.”
Rachel smiled at that thought. She could see her sister now, the way her pregnancy had just started to show. Why was it that her memories that had stayed locked away for so long were now washing over her like waves?
“You’ll like Clara and Becca. They’re younger, but gut girls. Clara is the baby of the family—she’s nine. She loves to work outside with the animals, especially the goats. One time...” Rachel realized that Caleb had pulled away from her, was rubbing at the middle of his forehead. “Are you feeling ill?”
“Nein.”
“Wishing you hadn’t—”
“It’s nothing like that.” He pulled in a deep breath and then slowly released it. “This is where I want to be, Rachel—with you. When you started talking about your family, I realized I hadn’t really thought about meeting them.”
�
�You weren’t going to simply leave me at the bus station, were you?”
“Your parents said they’d be there to meet you.”
“So we wave goodbye and then you start right back home?”
“Not exactly.”
“Do they even have another bus going south later today?”
“I don’t know.” He reached for her hand, intertwined their fingers. “I simply hadn’t thought it through.”
“You’ll be staying the night, Caleb Wittmer, with my family. You can sleep in Ethan’s room. There’s an extra bed.”
“Are you sure I won’t be a burden?”
“There’s always room for one more in an Amish home.”
“I suppose.”
“You can go home tomorrow, and be back in time to have Christmas dinner with your parents.”
He nodded as if what she said made sense. Rachel sensed a wariness in his eyes, though. Perhaps he was ready to be rid of her, but then she looked down at her hand clasped in his and knew that wasn’t true. So why was Caleb nervous about meeting her family? And what could she do to put his mind at ease?
She never expected to fall asleep, but the next thing she knew she was dreaming about playing in a creek—splashing water and throwing a ball as a large dog swam after it.
“We have a Labrador.”
“What?” Caleb had been reading the book on alpacas that he’d borrowed from the library. He snapped it shut and adjusted his back against the window so that he could study her.
“A Labrador. She’s white and loves to swim.” Rachel shook her head, trying to rid herself of the cobwebs. “I think her name is Biscuit.”
“Anything else? Anything about...what happened to you?”
“Nein. Nothing.” She pulled out her knitting to continue working on Caleb’s sweater. But she couldn’t focus, couldn’t remember if she was supposed to knit or purl. Afraid she would mess it up, she set aside the project and began rooting around in the bag that Ida had sent. She pulled out the thermos and a Tupperware container full of peanut-butter squares. As she was passing the snack to Caleb, she looked out the window and saw a large truck pass.
“I rode in one of those.”
“That? An eighteen-wheeler?”
“Ya. I—I...” Suddenly her throat was dry and her heart was racing. She tried to focus on her breathing, as the counselor had told her. Don’t force the memories, Rachel. Breath and relax, and eventually you will remember the things you’ve forgotten.
“Are you okay?”
Caleb’s voice sounded as if it was coming to her down a long tunnel. She pushed the container of sweets into his lap and ducked her head between her knees.
“Uh-oh. Are you going to be sick? Should I ask the driver to pull over?”
She shook her head, realized he couldn’t see that and forced herself to sit back up. “Nein. I was just a little...narrisch.”
“Maybe you need to eat.” He handed her a peanut-butter bar and unscrewed the cap on the thermos.
She didn’t think eating would help, but the worried look on his face was more than she could bear, so she nibbled at the cookie and took a sip of the coffee, then watched another large truck trundle by.
“I remember climbing up into it.”
“The truck?”
“Ya. I was walking down...down a road, and it was very dark. There was a lot of traffic, and I didn’t know...didn’t know what to do.” The nausea threatened to overwhelm her again, but she breathed deeply and pushed through the memory. What she was remembering wasn’t happening to her now. It couldn’t hurt her. “I had ridden in a car before that, but then...they were nearly to their destination and so they let me out.”
“On the side of the road?”
“Nein. A station—a gas station, I guess. It was late, and I didn’t want to admit that I was lost.” The fear had been nearly paralyzing. She remembered that clearly. How her legs had been shaking, and she’d hopped from the passenger van, assuring the man and woman that she would be fine. “I didn’t know what to do, didn’t know where I was, and no other cars came, so I started walking...down the highway.”
“That must have been terrifying.”
“The trucker pulled over on the side of the road, and at first I thought to run, but it had begun to snow, and I was shivering...”
“Do you remember anything about him?”
“Only that he was an older man, a grossdaddi. He had pictures of his grandkinner tucked up on the dash. I remember thinking he couldn’t be bad because of those pictures.”
Caleb placed another peanut-butter bar in her hands. She looked down, surprised to find she’d eaten the first. And the nausea? It seemed to be receding.
“Did you maybe leave your coat in the truck?”
“The bathroom.” Rachel shook her head, surprised that she could see the truck and the van and the bathroom so clearly. “I took it off in the gas station’s bathroom so I could wash my hands. Even took off my kapp and bonnet so I could attempt to rebraid my hair. I left them both there, across the top of the stall door.”
“And walked out into the cold.”
“Didn’t even realize it until I was down the road, and then it seemed too far to go back. I remember thinking that if I just kept walking I’d see something I recognized.”
“But you didn’t.”
“We went through a large city... I remember the maze of freeways.”
“Indianapolis.”
“And then we crossed some farmland, and I looked out and saw... I must have seen an Amish barn, or something that looked familiar. I remember telling the old guy that he could just let me out there. He didn’t want to. He kept asking me if I was sure.”
“You were in Montgomery then.”
“Ya. I think so.”
They sat silently, Rachel marveling at all that had happened, how she had ended up on Caleb’s road—lost and confused. He must have been thinking the same thing, because he leaned forward and rested his forehead against the back of the seat in front of them.
“What are you thinking?” she asked.
“Something that has occurred to me before—that if I hadn’t been fixing that portion of fence at the exact moment you stumbled by, that you might have died that night.”
“But you were, Caleb.” She waited until he glanced over at her. “I don’t know what happened, why I was wandering around lost, but I do know—beyond a shadow of a doubt—that Gotte was watching out for me, and that His plan for me? It was you.”
* * *
His plan for me? It was you.
Rachel’s words echoed through Caleb’s mind as they continued their ride northeast. She knitted as they navigated the freeways of Indianapolis, and then she asked to trade seats as they entered the farming country of northern Indiana. Her nose pressed to the window, she looked like a small child, watching for home.
But Caleb knew she was watching for more clues to her past.
When they entered Nappanee, she began pointing out things to him—Amish Acres and Burkholder Country Store and the Dutch Village Market. The town looked like something out of a postcard, with a light dusting of snow covering the cars and people scurrying about tending to their final Christmas errands—Amish and Englisch alike, both preparing to celebrate the birth of Christ.
Something inside of Caleb relaxed in that moment.
Something changed.
Watching an Englisch family pass an Amish one on the sidewalk, he realized that the differences were quite superficial—the way they dressed, the Englisch man pausing in front of a car while the Amish man continued two spaces down to a horse and buggy. Both were men spending a few hours in town with their families on a cold Christmas Eve day.
Who was he to say that the Amish folks were better than Englisch?
Or that conservative Amish was better than those commu
nities that were a tad more progressive? He noticed the woman was wearing a bright blue dress, nearly the color of the one Rachel had been wearing that first day, the color he had found so inappropriate. Why had that mattered to him so much? Now that he knew Rachel, and he did believe that he knew her well, he understood that she was a gut woman. But he might have missed knowing that, or anything else about her, simply because he dismissed her out of hand over the color of the fabric of her dress.
Perhaps he had spent too much of his life determined to emphasize the differences between his community and others.
He’d done it for good reasons.
Fear that the Amish lifestyle might fade away.
Worry that if he had a family, it wouldn’t be possible to raise children as he’d been raised.
Anxiety that their faith might become less important, and their ambition more so.
The answer to those concerns was prayer, not stubbornness. He could see that now as clearly as he could see the color that had blossomed in Rachel’s cheeks. Gotte had prepared a path for her, and that path had included Caleb.
If his Heavenly Father could be trusted with this dear woman sitting beside him, with her care and welfare even at her most vulnerable moment, then Caleb could trust that He was looking out for their faith and community, as well.
“Why are you looking at me that way?” Rachel placed her hand on the top of her head. “My kapp falling off?”
“Nein.”
“Color of my dress is okay, right?”
“Now you’re giving me a hard time.”
“I want to make sure I’m presentable.” Her smile practically sparkled. “Am I?”
Caleb’s heart filled with gratitude. He didn’t know what their future held, but he did know that Rachel was going to be okay. “What did you ask me?”
“If I look presentable. If my dress is okay.” She bumped her shoulder against his.
“It’s fine—quite pretty.”
“Why, thank you, Caleb Wittmer.”
“You’re welcome, Rachel Yoder.”
Then they were pulling into the Goshen bus stop, where only one family stood waiting—one family, but three buggies. He could tell they were together because they were huddled in a group—men, women and youngies. It would seem that the entire family had come to welcome Rachel home.
Amish Christmas Memories (Indiana Amish Brides Book 2) Page 15
