Patricia Davids Christmas Brides of Amish Country: An Amish ChristmasThe Christmas QuiltA Hope Springs Christmas

by Patricia Davids

  John changed into the plain clothes with mixed feelings. Once again Karen had come to his rescue. Was it possible his affection for her was nothing more than misguided gratitude? She had been there for him at every turn.

  No, he didn’t believe it. Maybe he didn’t remember what loving someone felt like, but being near Karen felt like love.

  The trousers were a little big at the waist and the cuffs fell over the top of his shoes. They would need to be shortened, but they would do for today. The shirt was a better fit. He searched for belt loops and found none. He clipped on the suspenders and raised them over his shoulders but they didn’t feel right. In his mind old men wore suspenders.

  Maybe it just felt odd wearing another man’s clothes.

  After pulling on the jacket John stared at the black felt hat lying on the table. The hat was the crowning touch. It, more than anything else, would make him appear Amish. Should he wear it? What would Karen think? Would she like him better in plain clothing?

  Sighing, he hung the hat on a wooden peg by the front door. He didn’t want to pretend he was something he wasn’t.

  Stepping outside the grandfather house John brushed at the creases in the coat. Summoning his courage he walked to the main house front door and entered. Karen was rolling out pie dough on the kitchen counter. She turned around to study him with a flour-covered rolling pin in one hand. There was a smudge of flour on her cheek. His hand itched to brush it away but he knew such attention would be unwelcome. Anna was nowhere in sight.

  “What’s the verdict?” Spreading his arms wide, he turned around slowly.

  “You look Plain, John Doe.”

  Dropping his arms, he tucked his hands in the pockets of his trousers. “Who knows, maybe I am. Would that make a difference to you?”

  She turned back to the table and resumed rolling the dough. “I don’t think you are Amish. You don’t know the language, you don’t know our ways.”

  He took a step closer, not understanding why he needed to push the issue. “But if I were Amish, would that make things right between us?”

  She paused. “Nee. It would not.”

  “Why?”

  Facing him, a gentle expression filled her eyes. “You cling to me because you know no one else.”

  Was she right? Hadn’t that very thought crossed his mind only a few minutes before? He refused to accept it. “You make me sound like a child, Karen. I’m not.”

  “Give yourself more time, John. Your answers may yet come to you.”

  “Okay, that’s fair. But you should know something. How I feel about you isn’t going to change no matter what I discover about myself.”

  Spinning on his heels, he headed out the door. He had a job interview to get to. He had to start building some kind of life for himself. He wasn’t clinging to Karen because she was the only woman in his life. He had to prove that to her.

  He would get a place of his own, live in the community, make friends among them. Eventually, he would become one of them.

  Was such a thing possible? He wasn’t sure.

  If it was, he would do it. Then Karen would see his feelings were genuine.

  He was crossing toward the barn when the sound of a car reached him. As he watched, Sheriff Bradley drove into the snow-covered yard.

  Chapter Twelve

  The tires of the sheriff’s SUV crunched loudly on the crisp snow as he pulled to a stop beside John. Opening the vehicle door, Nick stepped out. “Afternoon, John.”

  John dipped his head. “Sheriff. What brings you out here?”

  “Not good news I’m afraid. I wanted to let you know we got a report back from the FBI on your DNA and fingerprints. You’re not in their system.”

  John’s last bit of hope crumpled like a wadded piece of paper. He was no better and no worse off than he’d been five minutes ago. He still had a plan. He still needed to get to his job interview. “Thanks for the update, Nick.”

  “I’m sorry it wasn’t better news.”

  John’s gaze was drawn to the house. “I guess that means I’m stuck here.”

  “My offer of a place to stay in Millersburg still stands, John. I think you’d be better off in town.”

  “I appreciate that, but I’m doing okay.”

  “On an Amish farm? Look, I’ve got nothing against the Amish, I’ve got family who are Amish, but why cut yourself off from contact with the outside world? I mean, who knows, maybe you’ll see something on the six-o’clock news that sparks a memory about a place or someone you know. You’re insulated here, John. That may make remembering even harder.”

  “Maybe, maybe not.” John crossed his arms over his chest.

  “Suit yourself, but you might want to be asking yourself why you’re hiding out here.”

  Staring at his boots, John pushed a clump of snow aside with his toe. “For one thing, someone tried to kill me. You haven’t a clue who that was. I think I’m safer here than I would be on the streets of a city.”

  “You’re probably right about that.”

  Looking at the sheriff, John said, “Thanks for your concern. If anything new comes up you know where to find me.”

  “All right. I just wanted you to know that I’m not giving up. I’m going to keep digging.”

  “I’m not giving up hope either, but there comes a point when I have to move on. I’ve read dozens of stories about people who’ve been missing for decades. I’ve even read about people like me. People who never recover their memory. I have to prepare myself for that possibility.”

  To his surprise, John got the job with Reuben Beachy at the harness shop. His success had more to do with Reuben’s outright curiosity about John’s condition than John’s skill with the tools of a harness maker’s trade.

  The spry, elderly Amishman whistled or hummed continually while he worked on his large pedal-operated sewing machine. John’s job was to take orders over the phone and from customers as well as cutting lengths of leather or synthetic biothane into the sizes his boss needed.

  Reuben, as it turned out, had been making harnesses for more than sixty years. He made gear for everything from mini to draft-size horses. Recently, he had added leather dog collars and leashes to his inventory. Most of those he sold to dealers out of state.

  Chuckling, Reuben confided to John on his first day at work, “A product with ‘Amish Made’ guarantees it is of goot quality and ‘green’ because we make it without the use of electricity. The English like that now. Once we were seen as backward people, but now they think we are on to something. It always makes me laugh.”

  It wasn’t the only thing that made Reuben laugh. Every day he regaled John with witty comments and funny stories. Having seen the more serious side of the Amish, John was happy to see that humor had a place in the tight-knit community. By the end of his first week at work, John realized he had made a genuine friend.

  Leaving a customer at the front counter, John entered the work area and approached the oversize sewing machine where the gnomelike bearded man toiled. “Reuben, David Miller is here to pick up a new harness he ordered.”

  Reuben stopped pedaling. “Would that be Pudgy Dave Miller or Smokey Dave Miller?”

  “I’ve got no idea. How would I tell?” The man was a lean muscular farmer.

  Ruben cackled. “Ach, we have so many people with the same names around here that we need nicknames to tell them apart. Pudgy Dave has blond hair. He isn’t pudgy now, but he sure was when he was a boy.”

  “Then it must be Smokey Dave out front because his hair is brown.”

  Rubin rose from his seat and moved to where several large boxes were stacked on a bench. Selecting one, he handed it to John. “This should be it.”

  “Are you going to tell me how Smokey Dave got his name?”

  “His house caught on fire. They saved the place, but he got a nickname real quick.”

  “I guess that makes sense.” John took the box to the waiting customer, collected the money then turned over the closed sign.


  Reuben was putting away his supplies when John returned to the room. As he was clearing away the leather scraps, Reuben said, “My mother’s name was Miriam. What was your mother called?”

  John waited for something to pop into his mind but nothing did. Finally, he shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t remember.”

  “Which way is Texas from here?”

  “Southwest,” John answered without hesitation.

  “Ever been there?”

  “I don’t know. Are we going to play Twenty Questions every night when we close up?”

  “This is a strange illness you have, John Doe.”

  “No kidding.”

  “I know a good faith healer if you want to try one. I know you English don’t set much store by that kind of thing, but Elmer Hertzler has a way with herbs.”

  “I’m coming to accept the fact that I may not remember more than snatches of my previous life.”

  “If that is what God wills, it is good that you should accept it.”

  “Reuben, what does it take to become Amish?”

  Chuckling, Reuben winked. “An Amish mamm and daed.”

  “All joking aside, can an outsider join the Amish church?”

  “It has been done, but not by many. The ones I know who have tried have all left within a few months.”

  That wasn’t what John wanted to hear.

  Reuben sensed his disappointment. “If you admire our devotion to God, John Doe, be more devout in your own life. You don’t need a black hat for that. If you think our plain, frugal ways are good, become plain and frugal in your life. We do not live fairy-tale lives as the English make us sound.”

  “I know that. I’m trying to be devout. I’m living plain, but I believe the Amish faith is the life for me.”

  Reuben stroked his long gray beard. “You are serious.”

  “I am. I think God placed me here for a reason.”

  Suddenly, Reuben started chuckling again. “You mean you’ve fallen for an Amish girl. That’s the usual reason a man starts asking questions about our religion.”

  John felt searing heat rush to his face. “That may be part of it, but it’s not the only reason I’m interested in learning more about the Amish faith.”

  Reuben wagged a finger at him. “Just remember, Adam had it pretty good in Eden until he started listening to a woman.”

  “They can’t be all bad. You’re married.”

  “Ja, three times. I maybe should have quit at two.” He began chuckling again. “Don’t tell my Martha I said that.”

  John smiled. “I won’t. Three times? I thought the Amish weren’t allowed to divorce and remarry.”

  “We are not. My first wife died in childbirth a year after our wedding. My second wife took sick and died from cancer. That was a hard time for me. Martha lost her husband to a stroke about the same time. Two years later we wed. I thought we had a lot in common, but it seems we didn’t. If you are serious about becoming one of us you will need to learn the language and live among us for a time.”

  “For how long?”

  “The English, always in a rush. Until you are accepted as one of us. It make take a year or it may take five years.”

  John quelled his need to rush forward into this new life. He wanted, needed, to belong somewhere. “Anna Imhoff is teaching me the language.”

  “Good. I can help with that, too. You should speak to Bishop Zook. He is the man who could help guide you.”

  John hesitated. Would it cause trouble for Karen if her bishop knew an outsider was interested in courting her? It wasn’t that they had done anything wrong, but with John living on her farm it could give that impression. “Thanks, Reuben. I’ll think on it.”

  “Pray about it, John Doe. God’s wisdom is far beyond our own understanding. Now come, it’s payday for you.” Reuben led the way to the cash drawer and began counting out John’s wages for the week.

  Happy to have money that he’d earned himself, John pocketed the bills. After hitching one of Eli’s horses to his borrowed cart, John swung by the grocery store on his way home. Leaving his horse at one of the hitching rails at the front of the store, John noticed Molly dozing at the next rail down.

  Inside the store, he quickly spied Karen. Now that he left early for work each day and spent his free time working with Eli’s horses, John saw her only at breakfast and for an hour or so in the evenings after supper. Normally her family surrounded her but today it appeared that she was alone.

  Taking a cart from the line by the doorway he pushed it in her direction. Her eyes brightened when she caught sight of him.

  He counted out several bills and offered them to her. “You’re just the person I wanted to see. I’d like you to take this.”

  She placed two sacks of sugar in her cart. “What is that for?”

  “You do all my cooking. I feel I should contribute more than just my rent.”

  “Especially after you got my father to lower it?” she suggested.

  “Okay, yes.”

  “Very well.” She extended her hand.

  He made a sad face at his money. “Goodbye, hard-earned cash. When you go into Karen’s pocket I know I’ll not see you again.”

  She struggled not to smile at his teasing. Snatching the money from him, she said, “Ja, when money goes into my pocket it does not come out easily.”

  “So I’ve heard.”

  “Are you liking your new job?”

  “I do. Reuben is a fine man to work for. It tickles him that I can’t remember things. He’s worse than Anna and Noah combined, with all his questions.”

  Karen chuckled. “I see you are wearing your plain clothes.” She had given John several pairs of shortened pants as well as a couple of shirts. They went a long way toward stretching his meager wardrobe. He no longer had to spend the evenings wrapped in a quilt at home while his jeans dried over a chair in front of the stove.

  John leaned on his cart as Karen piled several large bags of flour in her cart followed by two big cans of shortening. He said, “Reuben’s going to help me with my Amish, too. Don’t tell Anna. I want her to think I’m improving because of her teaching.”

  A slight smile curved Karen’s lips. “I won’t breathe a word.”

  It was nice talking about ordinary things, walking beside Karen, doing a simple thing like shopping. “Anna’s really excited about her Christmas program. She keeps asking me if I remember that I said I would come.”

  “It is the one time that Amish children are encouraged to perform. Although we strive to remain humble before God and the world, you will see many proud parents and grandparents in the audience. And you will enjoy the entire program as most of it is in English.”

  “That’s a relief. My Pennsylvania Dutch isn’t progressing very fast.”

  “Nee. Do not disparage yourself. You are doing well.”

  She had noticed. His spirits lightened. “I was wondering what kind of Christmas presents would be appropriate for me to get the children?”

  “Only little things.”

  “Define little things for me because an iPod is a little thing and I’m pretty sure that’s not what you’re thinking of.”

  “Colored pencils for Anna. A board game for Noah. Things like that. Homemade gifts are best.”

  John couldn’t think of any simple thing he could make or buy that would be appropriate to give Karen. Perhaps Reuben could give him some ideas.

  He said, “Okay, that’s a start. Tell me what an Amish Christmas is like. Will you get a tree or decorate?”

  “Nee, we do not allow ourselves to be distracted from the meaning of the day by such commercial things. We put up some greenery in the house, but Christmas Day is for reflecting about our Lord’s birth. We will have family and friends over or we will travel to visit others. We do much visiting this time of year.”

  He hadn’t considered he might be spending Christmas alone. The thought was utterly depressing. He strived to sound casual when he asked, “What are your plans
for this year?”

  “Nettie, Elam and Katie will have dinner with us on Christmas Day. Some of our cousins are coming, too. It will be fun. On second Christmas we will be traveling to visit some of my mother’s family in Pennsylvania for a few days.”

  “What’s second Christmas?”

  “The twenty-sixth. It’s when we exchange gifts. Goodness, I have so much baking to get done before then.” She perked up and pushed her cart down the aisle.

  John drew back to let another shopper past, then he stepped up beside Karen again. She was comparing the prices of poppy-seed filling on two brands. John asked, “What kind of gift would your father like?”

  “Save your money, John,” she chided. “You do not need to get gifts for our family.”

  “Yes…ja, I do.”

  She pressed her hand to her lips to hold back a giggle without success.

  “What?” he demanded.

  “It seems funny that you want to be like us.”

  “Your family, the Amish lifestyle, it’s really all I know.”

  Sadness clouded her bright eyes. “A hen may sit on a duck’s egg until it hatches, but the baby will still be a duckling and not a chick.”

  “I’m not a hapless egg. I have a choice about how I want to live my life. God has given me that. I don’t know what I was in the past, but I know what I want in my future.”

  “And what is that?” she asked quietly.

  “You.”

  As she stared at him in openmouthed shock, he smiled at her then rounded the corner of the aisle, picked up the things he’d stopped for and went to check out.

  That evening Karen kept her composure through supper and the rest of the evening, but when John announced he was going to turn in she made an excuse to follow him a few minutes later.

  He waited for her outside. She raised her shawl over her hair against the chill night air. A sliver of moon low in the west illuminated the nighttime farm. The combination of moonlight on snow gave her just enough light to see John’s face.

  Suddenly, she was beset with doubts. Had she misunderstood him earlier today? She had been so shocked by his words that she hadn’t been able to demand an explanation. The moonlit setting and her racing heart were making it difficult to broach the subject.