by Amy Lillard
“No,” Hannah said. “I thought it might be fun for the kids.”
Essie, Aaron’s eight-year-old daughter, jumped up and down in place. “I want to color cards. I want to color cards.”
Laura Kate, the oldest of the Zook girls and by far the most serious, gave her sister a reprimanding look. “We all want to color cards, and see? We don’t have to yell about it.”
“Do I have to?” Andy was fifteen now and way too grown up to do something as silly as color cards for another person. That is, unless there was a girl his age involved. Then he might want to.
Hannah smiled at her son. “Not if you don’t want to, but I have a feeling that when Brandon and Shelly get here, they’ll color cards with us.”
Andy idolized Brandon. Tillie was certain he was probably about the coolest thing Andy had ever seen. Brandon had been raised English, drove a car, had a girlfriend he still claimed wasn’t his girlfriend, and went to school on the computers in the public library in town. She was certain that to Andy, Brandon’s life was about as interesting as could be.
When Hannah had come back to Pontotoc, she rejoined the Amish church and married Aaron, and Brandon had moved in with Leah. Now he lived with Leah, Jamie, and Peter in a little house near town. He helped out Leah in her shop—he and his not-girlfriend Shelly, that is. There was an apartment above the shop that was now empty, but Tillie figured once Brandon graduated from high school, he would move into the apartment himself. He was independent that way, like a lot of English kids. And she had to admit he took his mother’s return to her religion fairly well, though she had a feeling he was still dealing with the fact of learning that Aaron, not Mitchell McLean, was his father.
“If you say so,” Andy said and headed for the kitchen.
“I’ll get all the things,” Tillie said.
Mamm helped Mammi into her room and got her settled down with a puzzle book and a cup of tea while Hannah gathered the girls plus Andy around the table.
“Mom?” Brandon yelled.
“In here,” Hannah called.
A moment later Brandon and Shelly appeared in the dining room doorway.
Hannah immediately went over to hug her son. Tillie could only imagine how hard it was for Hannah to give up Brandon so she could follow her convictions and marry Brandon’s real father. Hannah and Brandon seemed to have a special bond. Maybe it was just everything they had gone through after Mitch’s death, but Leah adored Brandon almost as much as his mother did, and Tillie was sure that it was a comfort to her sister to know that her son was well taken care of.
Hannah squeezed Brandon tight, then gave a quick hug to Shelly as well.
“What are y’all doing?” Brandon glanced around at the supplies Tillie had placed on the table. There were Christmas stickers of all sorts, some glittery, some puffy. Most were snowmen and wreaths made from sprigs of holly, but she noticed that a few sheets had Santa Claus faces on them. But they were giving the cards to people who perhaps had once believed in Santa, so what was the harm in that? She wasn’t sure the bishop would see it that way, but it was done now. Kind of like the baby she carried.
Then not at all.
“Your mother wanted to do something Christmassy,” Tillie said. “Then she came up with the idea of making Christmas cards to take to the veterans’ hospital or the nursing home.”
Brandon clapped his hands together and rubbed them in anticipation. “I love making Christmas cards.” Definitely not something Tillie would’ve expected him to say before he met Shelly, but he was a smart boy in doing things his girlfriend liked even though she wasn’t his girlfriend.
Hannah shot Andy an I told you so look.
He shrugged and pulled out a chair, plopping down next to Laura Kate.
Once everyone was settled around the table with markers and colors and glitter glue and stickers and everything else they had available to create Christmas cards in order to make someone’s holiday a little brighter, she felt the baby kick. It wasn’t an unusual phenomenon. She had heard that being up and about rocked the baby to sleep, so babies tended to be less active when the mom was active. Now that she was sitting still, he, or she, woke up and demanded a little attention of her own. Tillie rubbed her belly to soothe the child.
“Everything all right?” Hannah shot her a sharp look.
Then of course all eyes turned to her.
“I’m fine,” Tillie said.
“So when are you going to have that baby?” Essie asked without even taking her eyes off her picture. She colored with focused intent, her tongue sticking out one side of her mouth.
“Esther Zook, that is not a polite thing to ask someone.” Hannah turned a stern look toward her youngest.
Essie stopped coloring and looked up. Her gaze traveled from Hannah to Tillie and back to Hannah again. “If I don’t ask, how am I supposed to know?”
Hannah pressed her lips together, to keep from laughing Tillie was sure. That was Essie, something of a pistol. “You don’t always need to know. We don’t talk about such things.” At least not mixed company. Women talked a little, but not much. And definitely not like the English women did at the day care center where Tillie had worked.
“If you say so,” Essie said, clearly not convinced.
“I say so,” Hannah said.
Everyone continued coloring their pictures, drawing holly and candles. Brandon and Shelly even drew Christmas trees with ornaments on theirs.
“When you’re done with that,” Mamm said from the doorway, “you can go out into the woods and pick some pine boughs to decorate the mantel.”
Shelly nodded enthusiastically. “It’s a good day for that.”
“They’re calling for storms,” Brandon said.
Hannah shook her head. “They always say that and then it blows over. I’ll believe there’s snow when I see the snow.” But they all knew snow in Mississippi was a rare thing, especially this early in the year. They were more apt to get ice than snow, and having an icy Christmas just wasn’t the same.
The baby kicked again and Tillie decided it was time to walk around a bit. She wasn’t sure if the baby didn’t like her being still or if she was enjoying the time of playing imaginary kickball when Tillie sat down.
“Finished?” Hannah asked.
“Jah.”
Hannah stood as well. “Okay, everybody finish up, and then we’ll find a snack.”
Essie clapped her hands. “I like snacks.”
Tillie bit back a smile as she ducked into the kitchen. Essie was the kind of kid who liked everything.
“Did you see Levi Yoder today?” Mamm asked.
“Jah,” Hannah said as Tillie nodded.
Mamm pressed her lips together and shook her head sadly. “He’s having a hard time.”
Hannah nodded. “I know what it’s like to lose a spouse, but Mitch and I had grown apart before he died. So it’s not quite the same.”
“Jah,” Mamm added. “He looks thinner every time I see him.”
Tillie rubbed her belly while the baby’s kicks subsided.
“I know for a fact Mims goes over there every other day or so,” Hannah said.
“She’s a good sister,” Mamm said.
“I’ve offered to help, but she says she has it all under control,” Hannah said.
“I guess these things just take time,” Mamm said.
Time. Everything needed time. Time to heal. Time to grow. Time to mourn. Time to change. It was all about time. And for some reason, since it was Christmas, it seemed to go by slower, each day a little harder than the one before. If time was so valuable, shouldn’t its passage make the loss or even the change easier? But Tillie didn’t ask her sister or her mamm. It wasn’t a question that truly needed an answer. It merely was. And she certainly didn’t want them to know her own struggles. As Mammi would say, she made her bed; now she had to lie in it.
Levi Yoder needed time. Tillie needed time. She supposed they all needed time at some point or another. But today, seeing
all the looks, the people who shook their heads not knowing that she saw, the people who didn’t care that she knew they disapproved—altogether it made her wonder if she would be able to make it through this transition. Times like this morning at church made her wonder if there was enough time at all to get back in the good graces of the Amish in Pontotoc.
* * *
The combined scents of pinecones and vanilla would forever be Christmas for her. Tillie lit the fat white candles her mother put aside for Christmas each year. To Tillie they smelled heavenly, like home. Times like these she could close her eyes and imagine that everything was just as it should be, even though it wasn’t. Or maybe it was. That was the hardest part of all for her to understand. Were her sin and shame part of God’s plan? Would God plan something like that? How was she supposed to know? And who was she to ask? If she went to the bishop, it would appear that she was being manipulative, twisting things to suit her own purpose. And that surely wasn’t what she wanted. No, what she wanted was direction. And despite daily prayers, she had none. She was merely floating, getting through to Christmas and then on to the new year. Who knew what would happen after that? Well, she would have the baby. And if she were to stay in Pontotoc, she would have to marry Melvin and join the church. Her transgressions were definitely new to their community. No one just left, got pregnant, and came back unmarried, even for a short while.
Sudden tears pricked her eyes. They were sharp and fell before she had a chance to blink them back.
“What’s wrong?” Of course Mamm was behind her. Eunice Gingerich had a talent for knowing just when one of her kids needed her, whether they wanted her there or not.
“I was just thinking about Levi Yoder.” Now where had that come from? Thinking about Levi Yoder was a sight easier than thinking about her own problems. But that didn’t mean she had really been thinking about him. So why had his name popped onto her lips so easily? “I was just wondering if he had any Christmas decorations up.”
It might’ve been the most ridiculous thing she had ever said. Why would Levi have up Christmas decorations? He lost his wife two months ago. His wife and his baby. Tillie was certain he dreaded Christmas almost as much as she did.
It wasn’t Christmas so much that plagued her, but the story of Mary having a baby, being a virgin. Joseph willing to raise that child. Having to travel so close to her due date, giving birth in the barn. Somehow Tillie felt more kin to Mary than she ever had. And yet she had never felt further from God.
“I suppose if he has any Christmas decorations it’s because Mims has gone over and put them up for him.”
“Jah,” she said. “I suppose you’re right.”
“Why all the worry about Levi?” Mamm asked.
Tillie only shrugged. “I don’t know. Just you guys talking, I guess.”
“I suppose it wouldn’t be a terrible idea if you wanted to ride out there tomorrow and see if he has Christmas decorations or needs something done in the house.”
“We could, yes.” The thought of helping Levi Yoder, of maybe cleaning his house, putting up some Christmas decorations, doing their best to add cheer to the place, somehow that made her feel a little better. Like she was indeed going to be able to come back into the community, be a part of it, be accepted. If nothing else, perhaps it was just a bit of atonement that she needed.
Mamm nodded and smiled. “It’s settled, then. First thing tomorrow morning right after breakfast we’ll head over to Levi Yoder’s and help out a neighbor.”
Tillie returned her smile. “It’s a deal.” A wave of warmth washed over her. Christmas spirit? Or merely the thought of doing something good after all the shame she had brought her family?
Or perhaps because of the shame he wouldn’t want her within ten feet of him. The thought was sobering, and she remembered his stare from earlier in church. She had no idea what was going on behind his eyes as he stared at her. She wasn’t even sure why he was looking at her with a room full of other faces to view.
Chapter Eight
“How long do you think it’ll be before the bishop comes to visit?” Tillie asked.
As decided on Sunday they had headed out to Levi Yoder’s house first thing Monday morning after breakfast. Libby had begged to go with them, but Mamm had insisted she stay behind in case Mammi Glick needed anything.
“When do you think the bishop’s coming?”
“I wish I knew. I thought he would have been here before now, but . . .” She trailed off with a small shrug.
They both knew that the bishop would be knocking on their door one day soon to get things straightened out. A woman couldn’t just come back pregnant and expect everything to fall in line. The only holdup, as far as Tillie could see, was Christmas. Either the bishop was trying to be kind and allow them Christmas in order to get things together or he was merely too busy with his own celebrations to give her more than a passing thought. For now.
“Well, he’s coming,” Mamm conceded. “I just don’t know when.” They rode along in silence for a moment. The day was bright and cool, just like the previous day had been, even though the weatherman continued to warn about storms. It was all the talk at church yesterday afternoon and all the talk at supper the night before. It seemed that all the men could talk about were the storms coming, rolling through Northeast Mississippi and promising weather that they hadn’t seen in a long time. Honestly, Tillie thought most of the men were a little dramatic when it came to the weather, but there was no telling farmers that. Even in the wintertime.
Mamm drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Tillie’s heart sank. Every time her mother did that it meant something was coming that perhaps neither one of them was going to like. And that’s when she knew that her mamm had told Libby to stay behind not because Mammi Glick might really need something but so she could have Tillie all to herself. “About Melvin.”
Tillie shook her head. But she didn’t say anything. The last thing she wanted to talk about was Melvin. She would rather talk about the baby and what she was going to do after it was born. She had at least a little bit of control over the baby. A baby she could love, hug, dress, and feed, and Melvin . . . Melvin was a grown man. With his own mind. He had made his own decisions, and she had made hers. Right or wrong, good or bad, even though it went against every grain of her Amish upbringing, Tillie did not want to go back to the English world. How could anyone ask her to? How could anyone expect her to? It wasn’t a matter of sins and transgressions; it was a matter of making two of the biggest mistakes she had ever made in her life. Mistakes that had lasting consequences, mistakes she would spend the rest of her life dealing with, and mistakes that caused her to be carrying a child who was no mistake at all.
How could she view her child as a mistake?
But how could she stay?
There was no answer to it.
Life wasn’t going to be easy. In fact, she knew it was going to be awful hard. But it was her life, and she would live it through.
“I don’t think Melvin is coming,” Tillie said for what seemed like the hundredth time. Anytime anybody got her by herself it was the first thing they wanted to know: was Melvin coming to live with her and if so, when? Was Melvin coming to visit? Was Melvin coming when the baby was born?
No.
She had asked him, begged and pleaded with him, sobbed, then cried herself to sleep, waiting for him to change his mind, to tell her that they were going to return to Pontotoc, to their home. But he told her then that his home was no longer in Pontotoc. Her family might live there still, but his had moved away shortly after they left. He had no one in Pontotoc save a distant cousin. But Tillie had left the English anyway, praying that he would follow. Yet she’d been gone for days and he hadn’t come after her; she could only assume that he wasn’t going to.
“The bishop’s going to ask, you know,” Mamm said.
“I know.” The bishop could ask, but it wouldn’t change one thing. It wouldn’t change how she felt. It wouldn’t change how
Melvin felt. It wouldn’t change one single thing.
And she would be forced to leave. Shunned, excommunicated.
“Two weeks till Christmas,” Mamm reminded her.
Tillie nodded. “Are you telling me for Melvin? Or the bishop?”
Mamm took her eyes from the road for a moment and settled them on Tillie’s face. Her mother’s gaze was like a soft caress. Kind and loving. “It’s just . . .” Mamm turned her attention back to the road. “It’s very complicated.”
You can say that again. “I’m sorry.” Her voice caught on a sob, hitched, and raised an octave. She coughed and cleared her throat to ease the tears back down.
“I know.” Mamm’s voice was gentle. Soothing. Understanding. It made her want to cry all the more. How had she messed up so badly in such a short period of time? And what could she ever do to make it right?
“What do you think he’ll do?” Tillie asked.
Mamm shrugged. It was a unique situation Tillie found herself in, to be sure. Any couple caught in a compromising position before they were married were made to wed immediately. The bride wasn’t allowed to wear her white apron and cape and there was shame on the family. But this was something much, much worse, and heaping insult onto injury was the fact that the father of her child was gone. People could say that he would change his mind. People could say that they would talk to him. But she didn’t want Melvin to stay with her out of obligation. There was enough of that going around as it was.
So what did she want?
She wanted to live Amish, but she wanted to have her baby with the peace of the English girls who got pregnant without a husband. And again she thought of Mary on the road to Bethlehem. It was never that simple.
“Here we are.” Mamm pulled on the reins and turned the buggy down the narrow drive. A large tree stood at the entrance. Tillie remembered coming here once before, when she was little. But the property had belonged to someone else then, she couldn’t remember who. One of her friends’ families maybe. Then they had moved up to Adamsville to be closer to Ethridge, like so many did. Then when Levi had married Mary, they had bought the place and set up farm.
