An Amish Husband for Tillie

by Amy Lillard

  A sob escaped her as Mamm wrapped her arms around her, and Tillie cried.

  * * *

  “Mims, really,” Levi started. He looked at the three huge stockpots on the stove. “I’m not going to be able to eat all this food in the next month, much less between now and Christmas.”

  “The weather is turning bad, probably as early as tomorrow,” Mims said. She stirred the last one, tapped the wooden spoon against the rim, and laid it across the top of the pot.

  Levi sucked in a breath to protest further, then let it out in a sigh. When Mims got like this, there was no changing her mind.

  “Maybe if you found yourself a husband you wouldn’t feel so obligated to take care of me.”

  She whirled on him, propped her hands on her hips, and shot him a withering stare. “Married or not I would still need to take care of you, dear brother.”

  He had hoped to get more of a rise out of her. It was better by far than thinking about Christmas and all that he had lost.

  “And this should be just enough food to get you through to Christmas.” Mims wasn’t taking into account the packages of food still sitting in his icebox. He had to admit to himself, if not to her, that he enjoyed the company. And he wasn’t admitting that it would mean that he wanted company all the time. But sometimes he didn’t want to be all alone. It was weird. When he was alone, he wished someone were there. When someone was there, he wished he were alone. He supposed that was unhappiness at its finest.

  “And you need to eat it,” she said with another stern look. “Your clothes are hanging off you. It’s much easier to make food than it is new clothing.”

  He found no need to tell her that he just wasn’t hungry these days. Everyone said that was simply grief and it would change. But he knew that it wouldn’t until after he got past Christmas.

  There had been a time when Christmas had been his favorite holiday. He loved everything about it: families coming together, good food, exchanging presents, preparing for a new year. To him Christmas was like the turning point of winter. After Christmas he started looking forward to a new planting season. In the spring, people tended to their horses to get ready for the new season. They needed new leather goods. It was almost like starting over, and it all stemmed from Christmas. Or at least in his mind it did.

  “I do like your decorations though.” Mims nodded toward the cedar boughs lying on the mantel. “I love the smell of cedar. Christmassy.” She smiled at him as if encouraging him to agree with her.

  How could he refuse? “Christmassy,” he agreed. Mary had always decorated with pine boughs, so at least that part was different. At least that part wasn’t so nostalgic for him.

  “Do I see some mistletoe in there?” Mims asked.

  “Jah,” he said.

  Tillie and Eunice had found a few sprigs of real mistletoe and holly with red berries and placed it throughout the fragrant cedar.

  “Don’t you go off kissing anyone,” Mims said with a laugh.

  Levi couldn’t help it; he chuckled, though the sound was rusty and unused.

  “There’s my brother.” Mims turned away, but not before he saw the sheen of tears in her eyes.

  He was worrying his family, and he was sorry for it, but he was struggling. Surely they understood that. “Just give me time, Mims.”

  “I worry,” she said.

  He nodded. “I know.”

  She started back toward the kitchen—to stir the pots once again, he was certain, even though it hadn’t been very long that they had been unattended. “Don’t do anything . . . stupid.”

  “I won’t.”

  She didn’t say what she really meant. She was worried he would hurt himself. Had he been that depressed, that his family would worry so about him? The idea was unthinkable. Jah, he missed Mary. He missed his baby. Or maybe the idea of his baby and the family that would never be. But he wasn’t so far gone that he would forget everything that he had been taught his whole life.

  And it was just so much harder at Christmastime.

  He and Mary had talked about what would happen if she had the baby early, maybe even on Christmas Day. Their child would share a birthday with Jesus. And Christmas reminded him of the family of Bethlehem, which reminded him of the family he would never have.

  Suddenly Tillie Gingerich’s face popped into his thoughts. He hadn’t heard anyone say with any great conviction what was to become of her and the child she carried. It had ripped his heart out every time he saw her at the wedding, then he realized he was just being selfish. Tillie could no more help her circumstance than he could help his own. They were all at the mercy of God’s will.

  While Mims stirred the pots on the stove, Levi made his way into the living room. He sat down in the rocking chair and stared at the mantel that Tillie had decorated with her mamm just a few days before. He appreciated the effort. He appreciated the sentiment. Even though he didn’t feel much like celebrating. He supposed Tillie probably didn’t either. She had been the talk of the after-church meal; she’d been the talk of the wedding two days later. He was certain she was the talk of every quilting circle and Christmas party that was happening this week. Every get together, every cousins’ day. Every casual meeting over pie. He supposed if they were talking about her that they would no longer be talking about him. But somehow that thought wasn’t the least bit comforting.

  Chapter Twelve

  There were too many people.

  Tillie tried to find a corner that was a little out of the way, but everywhere she went there was someone. Baby Samuel, her cousin, her brother, always someone. It was nothing more than a family holiday get-together, but she couldn’t get a moment alone.

  She braced her back against the wall and faced the room as a whole. She stared out over the sea of smiling, laughing faces. Christmastime seemed to bring out the joy in most everyone. How could it not? It was maybe the best holiday of the year. And knowing it was coming sure made the cold weather easier to bear. But this year Tillie didn’t feel quite the same about Christmas. Not now anyway. There were too many things at stake, too much to think about. Too many mistakes.

  After the bishop had left, Tillie had cried for a bit, then pulled herself together. She had made mistakes, shameful, shameful mistakes. But they were done and now she had to live with them. And as much as she hoped and prayed that Amos Raber would go to Ethridge to talk to the leaders in their parent community and come home with the perfect solution for what she was to do to get back in the good graces of God and the church, she knew that wasn’t going to happen. They would demand that she marry Melvin. They would demand that he come back. They would demand a confession in front of the church, a kneeling confession while they laid their sins out for all to see. There was just one really big problem with that. She knew in her heart of hearts that Melvin was never coming back to Pontotoc. She’d been there almost a week and he hadn’t come after her yet. A sad little part of her wondered if he knew that she was even gone. Even as impossible as it was, the thought made her breath clog in her chest in a knot that seemed to grow with every bit of air she tried to take in. She hated Christmas, she decided. She hated the party. She hated it all.

  Again she searched the happy faces of the people around her. Her whole family had turned out, from Mammi Glick all the way to Leah and her new family. David, Jim and Anna and all their kids, everyone. And everyone there was happy.

  Everyone but her.

  And why? Because the whole idea was pointless, having a party to welcome her back home. She was never going to be allowed back into the community. Not without Melvin and wedding vows. And if she was never going to be allowed to return, what was she doing there now? Torturing herself? Torturing her family? Prolonging the inevitable?

  She couldn’t take it anymore. She had to get out of there. She swung herself off the wall and out the door. She thought she heard someone call her name, or maybe they were just talking about her. After all, she was the talk of the community. But going from one room to the next wa
s not enough. The dining room was as crowded as the living room was; doubly so. She couldn’t stay any longer. Without a second thought, she wrenched open the front door. She hurried across the porch, down the steps, then started up the long drive.

  Her thoughts tumbled over themselves. She had to get away. She was never going to survive in Pontotoc. Melvin was never coming after her. She would never be allowed to join the Amish church. And they would not allow her to stay in her conservative community as a single mother. Her family was shamed. It was all her fault and the stupid choices she had made. The weight of it was more than she could bear. She just had to get away.

  She walked with no particular direction in mind. Just away.

  Away.

  The word echoed inside her head. She had to get away. Away from her family. Away from Christmas. Away from everything that she loved.

  Her tears started, hard and wet, leaving streaks where they ran. They were silent tears. Some sad, some angry. But the anger was at herself. The mistakes she had made. There were enough tears that at first she didn’t feel the sting of the ice against her cheeks. Or rather, she didn’t recognize it for what it was. That storm everyone said was coming had finally arrived.

  Great. She had picked the perfect night for her escape. She ignored the cold stinging her cheeks and just kept walking.

  She walked as fast as she could down the narrow lane, not paying any mind whether she turned right or left when she got to the end of the red dirt drive. Away.

  Freezing rain continued to fall. It was dark, the only lights the glow coming from the Amish houses and the occasional security light at the English homes dotted throughout. Some lived in trailers; most lived on farms. It was early enough that people were still awake, and their lamps cast yellow glows from their windows. It was just enough to keep her going. She could hear the splat of the rain as it hit the leaves of the kudzu, the rocks, and the road.

  Sleet might have been better. Or even snow. But the rain clung to her, wet the hem of her skirt, soaked through her stockings and shoes. Ever since she’d been back, since that first day at church, she had been dressing in the traditional Amish clothing, but who was she trying to kid? She was never going to be allowed to be part of their community. She pulled her sweater a little tighter around her shoulders, vaguely wishing she had grabbed a coat on her way out of the house. Even a light jacket. True outerwear was a definite necessity when trying to escape in the winter. She could just chalk that up as another of her grand mistakes.

  She stopped in her tracks as a pain seared across her belly. She bent over double and rubbed the spot. It subsided and turned into an ordinary stitch in her side. She couldn’t seem to get enough breath. She started to walk again, smoothing her hands over that spot to ease the sting.

  She should have gotten a coat. She should have stayed in Columbus. She should have never left Pontotoc in the first place.

  There went hindsight again. She pulled on the sides of her sweater, trying to draw it closer to her even though the rain had started to seep through. It was no easy task to hold the ends of her sweater together and still massage that cramping pain in her side.

  Mistake upon mistake. She stepped wrong, her foot coming down on a loose rock. Her ankle twisted. She stumbled, nearly fell, then caught herself. The freezing rain was mixed with sleet now, but it was no better than it had been before. In fact, it was coming down harder. Her teeth began to chatter. She was freezing. She had to get inside. She had to find someplace for cover. It was too far to go back home.

  Her ankle hurt as she hobbled on it. Stupid, stupid mistakes.

  Lord, please. I’ve made more than my share of mistakes. I’ve not listened to the people who love me. And now I’m out here freezing. Please help me find the answers. Amen. But it wasn’t just Tillie who needed help. She needed help for her child. If she froze to death, so would her baby, and that could never be. She had made mistakes in being with a man who wasn’t her husband, leaving her family and the Amish behind, but she couldn’t call the child she carried a mistake. She just couldn’t. The child within her was a miracle, and she should treat it as such. She had to get herself and the baby someplace warm and dry. She could see the outline of something up ahead.

  A mailbox. Where there was a mailbox it was certain that there was a barn or a house or some kind of outbuilding where she could huddle in for the night. She had thoughts of warm hay and softly breathing animals. The perfect modern-day Nativity scene, warm and glowing.

  She turned down the drive. That’s what she wanted. That’s what she needed. Someplace warm, someplace dry. She could just picture it in her head. There was a light on in the window of the house. But she couldn’t disturb whoever lived there. Then they would be witness to yet another of her mistakes. If they even took her in. Too many people in their community got one look at her large belly and turned away. They were shamed by her shame, and they could barely stand to look at her. Of course, they could talk about her, but that was a different matter. She didn’t want to be turned away. It was better by far to sneak into the barn tonight and ride out the storm. Tomorrow everything would look different. Surely tomorrow everything would look brighter.

  Or maybe tomorrow she should call Melvin and beg him to take her back, even though the last place she wanted to be was the English world. At least there, they didn’t look at her like she was the greatest sinner of all. At least there, she was just another pregnant woman, no special story. She felt around the side of the barn until she found the door. Thankfully, it was open, and she slid inside, grateful to be out of the weather. Not that shelter alone was much good. It was still freezing in the barn. So much for those visions of warm and toasty hay in a manger at Christmastime. It was freezing.

  Tillie found a lantern and lit it. At least now she had light to see where she was. Indeed, it was the main barn. She could hear the cows shifting, and close by the horses most likely used to pull the owner’s carriage. She was sure there were a couple of Belgians stored somewhere inside to pull the plow, for most everyone in Pontotoc farmed, at least a little piece of land.

  So far she was out of the rain and she had light, but the lamp could not provide the heat she needed.

  She slipped out of her wet sweater and pulled on the black coat hanging on a hook just inside the door. The sweater had provided little protection against the weather, and the rain and sleet had started to seep through and soak her dress.

  But at least the coat would keep her warmer than a sopping wet sweater. Her teeth still chattered, and her hands still shook. Her fingernails were blue underneath.

  She blew on her hands, hoping to bring better circulation back to her fingers. Surely just a little more time in the barn and she would be warm. Well, warmer. She would settle for warmer at this point.

  She had half a mind to find the carriage horse and sneak into the stall with it. Perhaps she could steal a little of its heat to warm herself. But the idea seemed a little strange. She supposed it would work, but it still seemed strange.

  Or she could take off her stockings and shoes that were soaked through. What would that help? She didn’t know. She could be colder without them. Well, she doubted she would be much colder.

  She blew on her fingers again, somehow managing to bite her tongue as her teeth chattered. “Ow!”

  What a mess she had made of things! She was out in the middle of who knew where, in wet clothes, in a freezing barn, and she had just bit her tongue. And she was pregnant. She had really done it this time.

  Maybe she could find an empty stall filled with hay. Maybe just being in a smaller space would make her feel warmer. She could cover up with the hay and hope she didn’t sneeze all day tomorrow. She supposed sneezing the day after was better than freezing the day before.

  Before she could carry out this new mission, she heard a loud bang coming from the end of the barn. She jumped, the noise as loud as a thunderclap. The side door. She must not have closed it all the way when she came in. The wind caught it again and
slammed it against the frame.

  Tillie jumped once more. She blew on her fingers and hurried toward the door. It would do no good to stay in the barn if she let all the cold air in. Of course, her side still hurt and her ankle throbbed, the one she had twisted on the rock. So hurrying wasn’t quite best the option for her. The door slammed twice more before she got to it. She reached out with a very cold hand to pull it closed when suddenly her fingers were caught in a vice grip.

  “You!”

  Tillie stared at her hand, then up into the angry face of Levi Yoder.

  * * *

  Levi couldn’t believe the sight before him. Tillie Gingerich in his barn on the worst night of the year. Weather-wise, anyway.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked. To hear her, a stranger would think it was her barn.

  “I think that’s my question to you.”

  She pulled her hand from his grasp, and he reluctantly let her go. She was frozen through. He didn’t know how long she had been in his barn, but she had pulled his extra coat on over a dress that was darkly stained with water. The spots had a stiff look to them, as if they were almost frozen themselves. Her teeth chattered and her hair was damp. Her prayer kapp had crumpled to a mess of linen on the back of her head.

  “How did you get here?” he asked. That was probably a better question.

  “I walked.”

  He couldn’t believe it. “You walked in this weather?”

  “It wasn’t like this when I started out.”

  “Without a coat?”

  She waved away his question.

  “Why are you here? Why did you come here?”

  She pulled on the ends of his coat, her hands covered by the sleeves. He hoped it was warming. She had been so cold when he touched her.

  “I didn’t come here on purpose. I got caught in the storm.”

  “Again, why?”

  She shook her head.

  Fine. She didn’t want to answer. It wasn’t any skin off his nose if she stayed in his barn overnight. It wasn’t like she was going to harm the animals or steal his coat. Though at this point he figured she needed that worse than he did.