by Amy Clipston
A line of families moved slowly up the road through the snow toward the schoolhouse. Naomi couldn’t help but think that the scene looked like a painting. The sky above them was gray, and the snow resembled a beautiful white fog engulfing the families who moved through it like apparitions dressed in dark cloaks and coats, some carrying gas lanterns, which glowed in the dark winter afternoon. The white, one-room schoolhouse was covered in the blowing snow, and buggies peppered with large, white flakes surrounded the little building.
They reached the schoolhouse at the end of the path, and Naomi shivered while stepping into the large room. A coal-burning stove provided warmth from the blustering cold afternoon. Rows of desks, benches, and folding chairs filled the center of the room, which was packed with children and their families. Paper snowflakes hung like mobiles fluttering from the ceiling, and drawings, including nativity scenes, angels, wreaths, and candles decked the walls. Similar drawings filled the blackboard at the front of the room. A makeshift curtain consisting of a few sheets hanging over twine hung at the front of the classroom in front of a raised platform that served as a stage next to the teacher’s desk.
Naomi, Lizzie Anne, and her mother sat on an available bench. Her father and Elam, her eldest brother at the age of nineteen, joined the men at the back of the room. Since Lizzie Anne had completed eighth grade last year, she’d graduated and was no longer a student at the school. Naomi greeted friends and chatted about the cold weather, while scanning the crowd consisting of members of her church district and families she’d known since her family moved to this district when she was sixteen, eight years ago.
Sylvia, Levina, and a group of their schoolmates hurried through the room, passing out handwritten pieces of paper with the schedule of program events, including Christmas-themed poems, songs, and skits. Naomi smiled, remembering her own happy memories of Christmas programs she’d participated in during eight years of school. She’d relished participating in the program with the other children. It was one of the highlights of every school year.
A mutter fell over the crowd and then the voices were silent.
“Good afternoon,” Lena, the teacher, said. “Danki for coming to our program. The scholars have worked very hard, and we hope you enjoy it.” She then glanced around the room. “Okay, kinner. Let’s begin!”
The students lined up at the front of the classroom, the older children in back and the younger up front. Naomi spotted Susie standing with her cousins. When her gaze met Naomi’s, she waved and grinned, and Naomi’s heart warmed.
While children sang a round of Christmas carols, Naomi couldn’t help but join in, as did many of the adults surrounding her. After the carols, the teacher rang a bell, and the children began acting out their skits and reciting their poems.
When Naomi’s youngest brothers and group of friends presented impressions of their favorite animals, Naomi laughed and glanced at her smiling mother. She cut her eyes toward the men in the back of the room and found Caleb watching her, his eyes intense. With her cheeks blazing, Naomi turned back to the front of the room. She wished the sight of the widower didn’t turn her insides to mush, but his eyes had mysterious power over her.
After several more skits, the program came to an end with another round of Christmas carols. The children invited the audience to join in, and Naomi tried to concentrate on the songs. However, her thoughts were focused on Caleb’s intense green eyes and how they caused her body to warm.
As “Joy to the World” came to a close, the audience clapped and the children beamed.
Lena moved to the front of the room, her young face shining with a smile. “Danki for coming to our program,” she said. “Please don’t forget that Sadie Kauffman has invited us to come to her home for a little party. Frehlicher Grischtdaag!”
While conversations broke out around her, Naomi’s stomach flip-flopped. She hoped she could convince her mother to skip the party in order to avoid more idle and awkward conversation with the Kauffmans.
Her mother leaned over. “I didn’t know that we were going to Sadie’s or I would’ve brought a covered dish.”
Naomi shrugged. “Oh well. We can give out the candy and then head home. I’m sure the children are tired and —”
“Naomi.” Her mother squeezed her hand. “It’s Christmas. I’m certain Sadie will understand that we forgot a covered dish. It’s about fellowship. The kinner will love being with their freinden a while longer.”
Naomi shook her head, determined to avoid fellowship at Sadie’s home. “Ach, I don’t—”
“Naomi!” Susie rushed over and grabbed Naomi’s sleeve. “I’m so froh you’re here! I was hoping you’d see the program. Wasn’t it great? What’s your favorite Christmas carol? Mine is ‘O Little Town of Bethlehem.’ When I was little, I used to sing it all the time. How about you? Do you like to sing?”
Susie’s father approached with a gentle smile. “Susie, you have to give her a chance to answer a question before you spout off six more.”
The little girl giggled. “Ya, I guess you’re right. Let’s start with the most important question: What’s your favorite Christmas carol?”
Although she was aware of Caleb’s stare, Naomi kept her eyes on Susie. “My favorite is ‘O Little Town of Bethlehem’ too.”
“That’s wunderbaar gut! It was my mamm’s too!” Susie grabbed Caleb’s hand and yanked him closer. “This is my dat. His name is Caleb.” She glanced up at her father. “Dat, this is mei freind Naomi I’ve been telling you about. She likes to quilt, bake, and sing, just like Mamm did!”
“It’s nice to finally meet you, Naomi.” His smile was warm as he held out his hand. “I’ve heard an awful lot about you.”
With her heart in her throat, Naomi hesitated for a split second before taking his hand. The warm feel of his skin caused her breath to pause as her eyes locked with his.
“Are you coming over to my Aenti Sadie’s house?” Susie asked, breaking the trance.
“Oh,” Naomi said, pulling her hand back. “I don’t know. I think I —”
“Please?” Susie’s eyes were hopeful.
Naomi glanced up at Caleb.
“I think it’s going to be a nice time,” he said.
Nodding, Naomi finally gave in and smiled. “I’ll be there after I help my mamm round up my siblings.”
Gripping two mugs of Robert’s homemade hot cider, Caleb weaved through the crowd in Sadie’s family room for a second time and then back into the knot of people in the kitchen. He scanned the faces in search of Naomi’s pretty smile. She’d seemed hesitant to join him and Susie at Sadie’s house; however, she’d gathered up her siblings and steered them out the schoolhouse door and into the falling snow.
While her parents took their buggy to the house, Naomi and her siblings had walked the short distance from the schoolhouse to Sadie’s home. He’d lost track of her amongst the group during the trek down the road toward Sadie’s house, but he’d seen her younger sisters running around the house with Susie and a group of children. He hoped Naomi had chosen to stay with them. He was determined to speak to her for longer than that brief introduction they’d shared at the schoolhouse. He’d been captivated by her beautiful brown eyes and dimple while he’d watched her smiling and laughing during the children’s program. Her warm handshake stirred something deep in his soul, a feeling he hadn’t experienced since he’d lost Barbara.
When he spotted Naomi standing by the back door, his steps quickened. She was still wearing her cloak, and he hoped she wasn’t planning to hurry out the back door before they spoke again.
Moving toward her, he cleared his throat. “Naomi,” he said, slipping between two laughing little boys.
“Oh, Caleb,” she said. “Hi.” Her cheeks flamed a bright pink. It seemed she was always blushing. He couldn’t help but wonder if she always blushed in a man’s presence. Whatever the reason, he found it adorable, and he was certain Naomi wasn’t the temptress his sister had described.
“I hope
you aren’t planning on leaving.” He held out one of the mugs. “I brought you some of Robert’s famous hot cider. It’s the best I’ve ever had.”
“Danki.” She sipped from the cup and smiled. “Ya, it is gut. It’s even better than my dat’s, but I would never tell him that.”
Caleb laughed. He opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by a group of young girls who ran by screeching through the kitchen on their way to the stairs leading to the second floor. Leaning in close to Naomi, he inhaled her flowery scent that must’ve been from her soap or shampoo. “Do you mind the cold?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Cold is fine.”
“Want to go sit on the porch so we can hear each other speak?” He nodded toward the back door. “Then we don’t have to compete with the kinner. I’m surprised Robert hasn’t yelled for the kinner to keep it down, but I guess he knows he can’t control the crowd.”
“It is loud in here. Sitting outside sounds gut,” she said.
He held the door open for her and followed her out onto the sweeping, wraparound porch. She lowered herself onto a bench and shivered.
“Bad idea?” he asked.
She shook her head. “It’s nice out here. The house was getting stuffy.” She gestured toward the snowflakes dancing across the white pasture. “From the looks of those clouds, this snow may not stop any time soon.”
“I think you’re right.” He sank onto the bench beside her and swallowed a shiver. He should’ve grabbed his coat from the peg by the door, but he was more focused on having an uninterrupted conversation with her than how he would weather the crisp December air. “We’ll definitely have a white Christmas this year.”
“Do you prefer white Christmases?” she asked before sipping from the mug.
“Ya.” He shrugged. He hadn’t thought much about Christmas since he’d lost Barbara. “How about you?”
She mirrored his shrug. “Ya. I figure if it’s going to be so cold, it might as well snow and make the scenery schee as a celebration of God’s glory and our Savior’s birth.”
“I have to agree with that.” He drank the hot cider and watched the snowflakes for a moment while trying to find a way to keep the conversation going. “What are your family Christmas traditions?”
“Ach, you know, nothing out of the ordinary.” She set the mug down on the bench beside her. “We have the Christmas table with a place set for each of my siblings. I’m the oldest, and I love helping my mother set it up the night before. We put out little toys and candies for each of the kinner. I love seeing their faces Christmas morning. We have a big breakfast and then my dat sits in his favorite chair and tells the Christmas story from the book of Luke. It’s wunderbaar. I look forward to it every year. How about you?”
Caleb studied the flakes that fluttered down onto the snow lining the wooden porch railing while he considered his answer. In all honesty, he and Susie hadn’t really practiced any traditions since they’d lost Barbara. Last year, he gave her little gifts Christmas morning, and they’d placed a poinsettia on the mantle. But they didn’t sing Christmas carols or share the Christmas story like they’d done when Barbara was alive. Beyond the Christmas program at school and a dinner shared with a neighbor, it seemed like just another day without Barbara.
“Susie and I don’t really have any traditions anymore,” he finally said. “We seem to just take things day by day with God’s help.”
Naomi’s expression was sad. “I’m sorry for your loss.” Her sweet voice was a mere whisper.
“I appreciate how nice you’ve been to my Susie,” he said, placing his mug on the seat beside him. “You’ve taken a lot of time to talk with her, and not many adults seem to care enough to do that. Danki.”
Her smile and dimple were back. “Oh, it’s nothing.” She waved off the comment. “She’s an easy girl to love.”
“She’s quite taken with you,” he said, studying her eyes. “You seem to have a gift with kinner.”
Her cheeks were pink again, and he was certain it was more than just the cool breeze that colored them. “I’ve had a lot of experience with my siblings. My mamm once said I should’ve been a school teacher, but I thought quilting was the talent God wanted me to share.” She paused as if gathering her thoughts. “Susie is a very special little girl. I’ve enjoyed spending time with her.”
He nodded. “I believe she feels the same way about you. She’s talked about you constantly since we met at the farmers market.” He shook his head, embarrassed. “I’m sorry we made a scene that day.”
“You didn’t make a scene. It’s scary when you think you’ve lost a kind. I took my siblings to the park one day last spring. My littlest brother, Joseph, was only four and wandered off while I was tying Leroy’s shoe.” She frowned. “I was scared to death with worry. There’s a little stream that runs through the park, and I was certain he’d drowned.” She laughed. “It turned out he was hiding behind a nearby tree, pretending to be a squirrel.” Her expression was serious again. “But I understand how you felt at the farmers market. When you’ve lost sight of a child, your mind runs away with the most horrible possibilities of what could’ve happened to them.”
The understanding in her pretty eyes touched him. “I feel like I’ve become even more protective of her since I lost Barbara,” he said. “I guess it’s because she’s all I have left.”
Naomi hugged her cloak closer to her body. “You must miss her so.”
He nodded. “Every day.”
“May I ask …?” Her voice trailed off.
“What?” He rubbed his arms as the frosty air seeped into his skin. He wished he could run in and snatch his coat without losing a moment of conversation with Naomi.
“Nothing.” She cleared her throat and glanced back toward the pasture. “The snow is beautiful, ya? I could watch it all night.” She looked at his arms. “You should go get your coat. You don’t want to spend your Christmas visit in bed or at the hospital with pneumonia, do you?”
“Naomi, you don’t have to change the subject,” he said with a smile. “You can ask me anything.”
Standing, she pursed her lips. “You’re going to catch a cold.” She slipped in the door and returned a few moments later with a coat. “I grabbed one from off the peg by the door. It’s my father’s, but I don’t think he’d mind if you borrowed it during our visit.”
“Danki.” He pulled it on. Although the coat was a little large in the shoulders, it was warm. “What were you going to ask me?”
She bit her lower lip as if choosing her words. “I was wondering what happened to Barbara.” She held a hand up, palm out. “But if it’s too painful to share, I understand. I don’t mean to pry into your life.”
“It was Christmas Eve two years ago,” he began, staring across the pasture. “We were so froh and excited back then. She was pregnant with our second kind and due at the end of January. Although she was feeling tired, she insisted that we celebrate with her cousins who lived on the other side of town. She’d baked a torte … Susie had helped her while they talked and laughed.”
The memories flooded his mind like a rushing waterfall, with every detail bubbling forth, from the smell of her baked raspberry dream torte to the sight of her honey blonde hair sticking out from under her prayer kapp.
“I’d wanted to stay home because Barbara said that she had some back pain, but she’d insisted we go,” he continued, lifting the mug of cider. “She’d even invited our neighbors to join us, and looking back, I’m certain she did to give herself an excuse to go no matter what.” He chuckled to himself. “Barbara was good at that — finding ways to get what she wanted. Not that she was deceitful. She had a heart of gold. She knew our neighbors were celebrating Christmas alone that year, and she wanted to give them froh memories.”
“She was very caring,” Naomi said softly.
“Ya, she was.” He glanced over at her, and her lip twitched as her eyes filled with tears. He hoped she didn’t cry. He didn’t want to cause her an
y sadness while they visited together. He also didn’t want to cry and show too much emotion in front of her and seem as if he were weak.
“We’d spent all afternoon with her cousins and had a gut time,” he said. “We ate too much, and the kinner played well together while sharing their Christmas candy and toys. We stayed much later than we should’ve, but Susie was having so much fun with her cousins.”
He sipped the cider and looked back over the pasture as the memories of that tragic night gripped him.
“On the way home, I was riding in a buggy behind her and witnessed the whole thing.” His voice quavered. He cleared his throat before continuing. “Barbara had wanted to ride back to our house with our neighbor and her family. For some reason, Susie insisted on riding with me. She said she was afraid I would get lost if I rode home alone.” He snorted at the irony.
“She’s such a thoughtful kind,” Naomi whispered, wiping a tear.
“A pickup truck ran a red light and …” His voice trailed off as the graphic images of the crash flooded his mind. He shook the memories away. “My neighbor and her family suffered bruises and scrapes. But my Barbara and our unborn baby took the brunt of the impact.” His voice fell to a whisper. “They were killed instantly.”
“I’m so sorry.” Tears glistened in Naomi’s brown eyes. “I can’t imagine how difficult it was for you and Susie.”
He wiped his eyes, hoping to prevent any threatening tears from splashing down his cheeks. “The month that followed her death was a blur. Of course, God was with me the whole time, and I believe He still is.” He paused and pulled at his beard while gathering his thoughts. “To be honest, the most difficult part has been the day-to-day routine, the things we do without thinking twice. You know, getting Susie ready for school, making her lunch, combing her hair, going to bed alone at night. That’s when I miss Barbara the most.”
