“I want to kiss you again right now.”
“You do?”
“Ya, but I believe your parents can see us from the sitting room.”
“I’m sure they can.”
So he reached over and snagged her hand instead, laced his fingers with hers and said, “Tell me about this porch. What you’ve done, it’s amazing.”
“I told you about my mamm’s seasonal depression. She says she doesn’t suffer from it as much as she once did, and the doctor we visited, he said it’s related to our hormones and that’s why hers is better.”
“So you only have, what...twenty or thirty more years to deal with it.”
She laughed when he said that, and another part of Caleb relaxed.
“The doctor offered medicine, which I will take if I need to, but so far things are better, and I guess...I guess it’s because I’ve finally found what I feel satisfied doing.”
“This room has Rachel written all over it.”
“Mamm said to think of it as my room, my shop.”
A display of finished knitted projects adorned an open cabinet with small handwritten prices affixed to each item. Another part of the room was dedicated to turning the lamb’s wool she’d purchased into yarn. It included a basket with several sizes of carding paddles. There were also spools and cardboard spindles, a spinning wheel and what looked like several jars of dye.
“How did you learn to do all of this?”
“There’s an older woman in our church who taught me some of it. The rest, I checked out books from the library and searched for information on the computer.”
They both laughed at the mention of a library computer, remembering that long-ago argument about what was and wasn’t proper.
Colorful skeins of yarn hung from hooks along one wall. Rachel stood and pulled him over to them. “These are the color of the sheep’s wool, and these I dyed myself.”
“What did you use?”
“All natural things because people who purchase the yarn or the finished items, many of them are Englischers, and they want to know that no harsh chemicals are used.”
“What sort of natural things?”
“Berries mostly, evergreen for those and roots for the browns.”
She showed him some of her finished things—sweaters and blankets and scarves and baby blankets.
“It’s hard to believe that you’ve done all this since Christmas.”
“I’ve had a lot of time on my hands, and Mamm was right when she says it’s best to keep busy.”
“You sound better. You have sounded better for many weeks now.”
Rachel nodded, her kapp strings bouncing, and he was reminded of her lying in the snow, her hair fanned out around her and her complexion frighteningly pale.
Pulling him back over to the rocking chairs, she lowered her voice—not so her family wouldn’t hear. They had to already know what she was telling him, but perhaps it was simply difficult for her to discuss.
“At first, I thought my depression was a result of the accident.”
“You wrote that your doctor said that was possible.”
“It’s so embarrassing, to admit to having these feelings...”
“Please don’t be embarrassed with me. I care about you.”
She squeezed his hand, then leaned back and set her rocker into motion. “I’m learning that many people care about me. Only, I couldn’t see that before. Apparently, this has been a problem since I first left school, and my parents wanted me to speak to the bishop or see a doctor, but I refused.”
“Because you were ashamed?”
“I suppose, or maybe I thought it wouldn’t do any good.”
Caleb rubbed his thumb over the grain of the rocking chair’s arm. No doubt Ethan had made the chair. He was a fine carpenter.
“When my mamm finally told me how she suffered with the same thing, I didn’t feel like such a freak anymore.”
“You’re not a freak. You’re a beautiful, kind woman.”
“Some of it is seasonal, we think. It’s called SAD—seasonal affective disorder.”
“And you said that you’re not taking any medicine for it.”
“Not at this time—perhaps I will next winter, if I need it. But this room...the sunshine helps. Doing something I love.”
“The knitting.”
“Ya, it helps, too.”
Which left Caleb with quite the predicament, because he wanted to ask Rachel to marry him. He had come here to do that very thing, but how could he take her from a place where she was flourishing? How could he ask her to move away from the family that cared so much for her?
Yet he couldn’t move away from his parents.
He was their only child.
He simply could not leave them alone.
“Do you have a headache?” Rachel jumped up. “Mamm has some over-the-counter medicine.”
“It’s okay. I’m just tired, I think.”
It was later that evening, when he was tossing and turning in the extra bed in Ethan’s room, that Rachel’s brother finally said, “Maybe if you talk about it, you’ll stop keeping me awake.”
So they did, and that turned out to be a very good thing.
Because suddenly, without any doubt, Caleb knew exactly what he needed to do.
* * *
Rachel barely had any time alone with Caleb.
On Friday they visited the auction. Ethan purchased a half dozen alpacas. Caleb and Ethan went back on Saturday to see to their delivery.
Sunday dawned sunny and beautiful.
Though they could still often have winter weather in March in northern Indiana, for the day at least, spring had arrived.
Rachel put on her Sunday dress, fussed over her hair, which she then covered with a kapp, and made her way downstairs.
“Caleb is out in the barn with Ethan and your dat.”
“I thought he might be.”
“He’s a nice young man, Rachel. I think Gotte brought you two together at the exact time when you needed each other most.”
Rachel didn’t answer that because she didn’t know how.
She had thought for a moment the night before that Caleb was going to ask her to marry him—but then his mood had suddenly changed, and he’d gone to bed. Was he having second thoughts? She’d been completely honest with him about her moods, about her condition, and she wouldn’t blame him if he decided that she was too much to take on. At the same time, she was no longer ashamed of her condition, or of the feelings she struggled with.
She understood that everyone she met was dealing with something. It was only that some people’s struggles were more visible than others.
Rachel felt good now, stronger, but she knew there would still be dark days ahead.
Now that she knew why, that thought didn’t frighten her as much as it once had.
The Sunday service was one of the finest that she remembered—the preaching was particularly moving, the singing beautiful and the luncheon delicious. Caleb spent some of the time with her, but he also went off with her bruder to join a game of baseball, and once she saw him speaking with their bishop. It was a wunderbaar day, but she’d barely spent any time alone with him. The next week would fly by, and then he’d be returning home.
What had she expected to happen?
Her life wasn’t a romance novel, where the beau dropped to one knee and pulled out a sparkling diamond ring. They didn’t even wear rings. And yet, a part of her had thought that something would be settled between them.
They had nothing scheduled for Monday, and her bruder and dat had committed to helping a neighbor repair his barn. Caleb offered to go with them, but Ethan shook his head, her dat said, “Not necessary, but danki,” and her mamm pushed another cup of coffee into his hands.
“Perhaps Rachel could take you to see the s
choolhouse, where she used to teach. It’s a pleasant walk.”
Caleb had grown up attending a one-room schoolhouse, same as she had, same as nearly every Amish child did. She didn’t think there would be much for him to see there, but then again they had nothing else planned. The day had turned slightly cooler and rain was expected before the end of the week. Clouds scudded across the sky, occasionally blocking the sun.
She supposed her life was like the sky. Some days would be sunny and others filled with rain. The thought caused her to think of blue, and she wondered whether blueberries could be used as a dye. Her thoughts often turned to her knitting, and with it a keen sense of satisfaction.
The schoolteacher had the children sing a few songs for their visitors. Afterward she let them go to recess early and told Caleb how much help Rachel had been when she had apprenticed there. Rachel still had very little recollection of those days.
It was when they were walking home, Caleb holding her hand, the March wind blowing the last remnants of winter away, that she saw the curve in the road, and she remembered.
She stopped suddenly, pulling Caleb to a halt, since he was still holding her hand.
“What is it? Are you okay? What’s wrong?”
“This is where it happened.”
He didn’t ask what she meant—instead he waited. He understood that this was a pivotal moment.
“I was walking home, a bit vexed that the school day hadn’t gone well. I remember thinking I wasn’t very gut at being a teacher, that I might never find what I was gut at.”
She moved forward slowly, looked left and right, and then knelt down and touched a place on the ground where rocks were poking up through the soil.
“The car came around the corner so fast. One minute I was lost in thought, and the next I realized he was going to hit me. It was...blue—not a truck. I jumped out of the way at the same moment that he swerved, and I lost my balance. I remember thinking that I was going to stain my dress, and then nothing—nothing until I woke up in the family’s van, unable to remember who I was or what I was doing there.”
Her arms had begun to tremble. The memory was so strong that her heart raced as she recalled her fear and the throbbing in her head when she was in the van, and how nauseous she’d felt—how alone.
Caleb knelt beside her, put his arms around her and waited.
When she’d composed herself, she said, “It’s a weight off me, to know...to have at least that memory back.”
She didn’t realize that she was crying until he reached forward and wiped away her tears.
“I’m not glad it happened to you, Rachel, but I am so very thankful that Gotte used it to bring us together.”
They walked the rest of the way home in silence. When she turned toward the front porch, Caleb tugged on her hand and nodded toward the garden. So they went there, found her mother’s bench and sat and watched the birds hop from bush to bush, searching for seeds.
“I need to tell you something.” He waited until she turned her attention completely to him. “I love you, Rachel Yoder, and I want to marry you.”
“You do?”
“I do. I’ve told you of my feelings many times, on Christmas Day, and in our letters.”
“I was afraid you were having second thoughts.”
“Nein. I’m sure of my feelings. It’s only that...”
“Are you worried about my moods? About my condition?”
“I am not. You are perfect exactly as you are. Everyone struggles with something, Rachel. At least you are dealing with your situation.”
“Am I not conservative enough for you?” Perhaps she shouldn’t have gone on and on about her knitting business, about the yarns and dyes, about her hopes to sell in Englisch shops.
“You are perfect. Conservative or liberal doesn’t matter so long as we share the same faith. We can work out our differences.”
“Then what is it? I hear a but in your voice.”
“I can’t leave my parents. I can’t leave them alone.”
“And I wouldn’t ask you to.”
“This is what I am struggling with. I see how much better you are here. How can I take you from this place? Your family...”
“Is loud and complicated and exhausting, and I love them, but, Caleb, my family is my roots. They always will be.” She looked down at their hands. It felt so natural for her hand to be cradled in his. “You? You are my future.”
“Your bruder said as much.”
“He did?”
“Ya.” He shook his head. “At times it seems like my thinking is muddled. I’m unable to move forward or see a solution until someone points out the obvious.”
“Ethan pointed out the obvious?”
“He told me if I was so worried about taking you from here, to go home and build you a sunroom.”
“And you would do that for me?”
“Ya. That and so much more.”
He pulled her into his arms then, held her in the warm afternoon sun. She breathed in the scent of him, the comfort of his presence, and she prayed that he would never let her go.
“You’re so precious to me, Rachel. You brought color into my life.”
“And you brought hope into mine.”
“You made me look at things honestly, things I’d been too stubborn to see, but now...now I can see that our life is gut—our Plain life is gut, in all its variations.”
“The future might not always be as bright and hopeful as today,” she whispered. The old fear pushed against her hopes and dreams of happiness, but Caleb only laughed.
“We’re both old enough to know that every life has its share of trouble, but we can face those days together. Gotte will see us through.”
“He’s certainly guided us through to this point, and who would have ever imagined the course our lives took.”
Caleb kissed her again, pressed his forehead to hers and whispered, “And He can be trusted with our future, as well.”
Which was a truth that Rachel understood better every day—she could feel it, ringing through her heart.
Epilogue
The wedding took place a short eight weeks later. Rachel had feared those eight weeks would drag by, but in fact they flew. There was so much to do, and she felt a lightness in her heart that she’d never known before.
They married in her parents’ yard, under the tall oak tree. She wore a lavender dress with a matching lavender apron. Her kapp was brand-new. Family and friends and church members filled the benches that had been set up across the grass. Caleb’s parents sat in the front row with her parents. The event would last all day and include lunch, dinner and games for the youngies. A long table on the front porch held the gifts that those attending had brought—dishes and sheets and towels and more than one quilt. They would be living with Caleb’s parents at first, but Rachel knew the items would come in handy.
Although many Amish couples did not take honeymoons, they had opted to travel to Niagara Falls, a place she’d always longed to see. It helped that there was a large alpaca farm in the vicinity that they both had an interest in visiting.
Rachel was looking forward to the trip, but even more than that she was looking forward to returning to the quaint house in Montgomery, Indiana. Caleb had already begun work on a sunroom, for when the days turned dark. “Plus you’ll need a place for your shop,” he noted.
She planned to offer not only her sheep yarn and finished projects, but also alpaca yarn and Ida’s crocheted items. Their days would be full and, hopefully, Gotte would bless them with many children.
Morning sunshine fell through the trees as she and Caleb stood in front of the bishop. Caleb looked terribly handsome in his black suit—a traditional Amish suit that appeared to be brand-new. It wasn’t what he was wearing that pierced her heart, but the way he looked at her.
“Do you,
Caleb Wittmer, and you, Rachel Yoder, vow to remain together until death?” Bishop Joel studied them both over his reading glasses. He wasn’t old as bishops went—not nearly as old as Bishop Amos—and yet there was a quiet wisdom about him. He had been a calming, guiding presence in her life, especially since she’d returned home. She was suddenly grateful for him, and so glad that he was presiding over her wedding.
“We do.”
“And will you both be loyal and care for each other during adversity?”
“We will.”
“And during affliction?”
“Yes.”
“And during sickness?”
Caleb squeezed her hands.
“We will.”
Joel tucked his Bible under his arm and covered their hands with his own. “All of those assembled here, as your frienden and family in Christ, and I, as your bishop, wish you the blessing and mercy of Gotte.”
There were shouts of “Amen” and “Praise Gotte” and even “Hallelujah.” Rachel gazed up into Caleb’s eyes and felt as if his love was showering over her, covering her, blessing her.
“Go forth in the Lord’s name.” Bishop Joel turned them to face their guests. “You are now man and wife.”
Her mamm was crying. Miriam was trying to shift baby Stevie to her left arm and clap at the same time. Becca and Clara were practically hopping up and down, and Ethan and her dat looked proud enough to bust a button. Ida was crying and John had his arm around her.
They walked back down the aisle, through the gathering of family and friends, and Rachel knew that this was a day she’d never forget.
After the ceremony and before the luncheon, Caleb whispered into her ear, “Care for a walk in the garden?”
Which was exactly what she needed to hear.
Her mother’s vegetables were knee-high, and the flowers were a sight to behold.
As soon as they turned the corner in the garden, Caleb pulled her into his arms.
“I love you, Rachel Yoder.”
“Rachel Wittmer now.”
“I love you, Rachel Wittmer.”
And those words were all she needed to hear to make her day the perfect memory. Their first Christmas together would be one that she would always remember, as was their first meeting, when she didn’t know who she was and Caleb hadn’t a clue as to how to deal with a pushy, moody stranger. But her dreams and hopes and prayers were filled with their future together—future Christmases, possibly dark days and certainly days of joy. The stuff of life, and she was ready, finally, to embrace it.
Amish Christmas Memories (Indiana Amish Brides Book 2) Page 18
