The Amish Christmas Candle

by Long, Kelly; Beckstrand, Jennifer; Baker, Lisa Jones

  Suddenly, she heard her mother say her name, and Lydia caught everyone regarding her. She grimaced when she realized she’d barely heard a word. At that moment, reality hit her, and she straightened her shoulders and beamed.

  It donned on her that even without Anna, Christmas season was off to a great start. And it was because of her unusual meeting with John King. To her realization, as she met his gaze, something inside of her told her that this wasn’t the last she’d see of him.

  * * *

  That evening, Lydia breathed in the woodsy scent of greenery and the vanilla fragrance from her homemade candles and smiled satisfaction. As she cleared the table and scraped dirty dishes from the table, she thought back on the afternoon to the ride home in John’s truck to the wonderful dinner conversation to the regretful expression on his face as he’d waved good-bye to her outside in the cold.

  Letting out a sigh, she stopped to glance out the small window above the kitchen sink. Propping her elbows on the countertop, she rested her chin on her palms and bent her knees while she stared at the barn in their backyard.

  She glimpsed the black buggy underneath the small shed roof. A goat meandered back and forth from the shed to the house. But she barely saw what was right in front of her.

  Instead, she imagined the front of King’s Bakery and grinned. Of course, it was impossible to see where John worked because it was several miles away. Still, she visualized it, imagining John in the back, stocking shelves as the pleasant scent of cinnamon filled the air.

  She could almost see the big black letters of King’s Bakery on the shop’s window. And she could hear the bell sound as she opened the door to go inside. She gazed outside and eyed the gravel drive that led to the blacktop.

  When a dull ache in her ankle made her close her eyes, she lifted her foot and turned it a bit to take some weight off, hugging her palms to her hips while a sigh of satisfaction escaped her.

  She put her hand over her mouth as lights from a vehicle briefly illuminated the road in the distance. Without thinking, she migrated to the living room and lowered her gaze to the single red candle in the window sill. As she stared with emotion at the homemade decoration, her thoughts drifted to Anna.

  How am I going to think of a Christmas blessing without you? How can I see this change in my life as a positive thing?

  She swallowed the hard knot that obstructed her throat.

  Automatically, what she’d discussed with John floated through her mind until she finally took a seat in the nearest rocker and propped her foot on the stool next to it.

  As she sat back in the chair, the light throbbing in her ankle came and passed while she inhaled the pleasant vanilla scent of the white homemade candles that burned nearby. Thankfully, her pain wasn’t nearly as bad as what she’d expected it to be when she’d fallen.

  White candles lined the windowsills. Soft orange flames offered the Christmas spirit until she considered the goal she needed to decide. She frowned.

  Only one wasn’t burning. The wick in the center of the red candle. The decoration that had been especially selected by her and Anna last year to represent this year’s Christmas blessing.

  It would, hopefully, burn on Christmas Eve when that very blessing finally came to fruition. But what’s the blessing?

  Lydia pressed her pointer finger to her lips while she contemplated the potent question. As the moon lit up the sky in-between scattered stars, she considered John’s opinion that even though a loved one wasn’t physically present, they were still with you, really, because of how you’ve shared a relationship and how they’ve affected your life. Like the situation with his beloved uncle.

  She thought a moment. Of course, death certainly wasn’t uncommon, but Lydia felt sorry that John had lost someone he’d been so close to. John’s loss spawned guilt that Lydia had complained about her sister being away when John would have to wait till eternity to see his uncle. Stretching her legs, Lydia’s thoughts drifted to Anna. A smile tugged the corners of Lydia’s lips upward.

  Think positive. Her dilemma with her sister wasn’t nearly as dire as John’s situation with his uncle. After all, she would still be able to unite with Anna on occasions. Holidays. Weddings.

  Suddenly, something even more disturbing unexpectedly floated into Lydia’s thoughts, and she stiffened. What would she give Anna for Christmas?

  Lydia closed her lids a moment, seriously pondering another dilemma. When she opened her eyes, the question lingered on her mind.

  With one swift motion, she stood and stepped quickly back to the table where she ran a clean dish rag over the top. It was difficult to focus on her task at hand as the potent question stabbed at her until she stopped what she was doing and eventually made her way to the side of the room that offered a view of the yard.

  She gazed off into the distance, seeing nothing. Darkness had set in. But the eerie howling of the wind meeting the cracks in the house was easily heard. Every once in a while, a limb from the pines would meet the dwelling in a sound that reminded her of a bale of hay meeting the barn floor after Daddy shoved it over the edge of the loft.

  She yearned to offer her sister something extra special this year. A gift that Anna would think of as special. Lydia swallowed an emotional knot from her throat, struggling to decide her options.

  Finally, she rested her palms on her hips and gazed out at the stars. Trying to decide on a present, she smiled a little as she recalled the gift Anna had given her last Christmas.

  The beautifully wrapped box had contained two balls of yarn of gorgeous shades of blue. The colors had reminded Lydia of the sky. There was a light hue that resembled the sky on a cloudless day. And another darker shade, that resembled how it looked right before a storm.

  Anna had interpreted the simple gift in two different ways. It had been a joke, sort of, because Anna was fully aware that Lydia had never acquired enough patience to sit down and knit.

  At the same time, the yarn had been a token of encouragement. Lydia was fully aware that Anna had always loved making warm things. She especially enjoyed soft scarves and hats.

  Anna yearned for Lydia to experience the same joy, fully aware that getting Lydia to knit something was unlikely. It was no secret that Lydia’s strength was in her cooking, and Anna’s strongpoint lay in sewing and knitting.

  Lydia pressed her lips together in a straight line. She still didn’t know what to buy for her sister, but she focused her full concentration on coming up with an answer.

  Finally, she gave up and returned her attention back to John. As she contemplated his reassuring manner, she stretched her legs so both heels rested on the hardwood floor. His positive outlook on how things worked warmed her inside. She drew in an appreciative breath, blew it out, and the tenseness in her neck went away.

  A calm, easy sensation swept up her arms and settled comfortably in her shoulders. At that moment, she recognized something that had just happened because of John King. That Anna was gone for the Christmas season hadn’t spoiled the blessed season at all.

  Even without Anna, Lydia would decide a wonderful Christmas goal and like always, she would do her best to make that goal materialize. In fact, as she focused on what to make happen, this year’s Christmas dream came to her.

  Her pulse picked up to a more enthusiastic speed as she leaned forward. The goal was so obvious, why hadn’t she thought of it earlier?

  * * *

  That evening, John shoved his hands into his pockets as he traversed his family’s large backyard to the barn. He closed his eyes a moment as the strong, cold wind hit his face.

  The building blocked a large part of the gust. Inside of the barn, he unbuttoned the top of his coat to allow for more arm movement as he reached for the oversized rake hanging on the wall and continued to corral dirty straw from the cattle area into a large heap.

  While he worked, wind whistled through the cracks of the old structure. Although the building was far from warm, its four solid walls served to protect from
the cold. As the metal prongs made a light scraping against the concrete floor, he breathed in the all-too-familiar scent of straw and cattle and sighed satisfaction.

  Silently, he credited his father for their large herd. John paused to utter a quick, thankful prayer for his healthy large brood of siblings and the two loving people who’d raised them in a loving Christian home.

  As he compared them to Lydia’s parents, he stopped and took in the docile animals around him. He smiled a little while as the dinner conversation with her folks flitted through his head.

  Strangely, despite that her family was far smaller than his own, he’d felt quite at ease at their table.

  Deep in thought, he continued his work, eventually loading fresh clean straw into the stalls and spreading it evenly across the floor.

  Halfway done with his task, he stopped again to rest, watching the cattle get comfortable in their fresh bedding. Without warning, Lydia Schultz’s beautiful, kind face popped into his mind and stayed there.

  While he considered his evening with her, a strong, unfamiliar emotion tugged at his heart. He didn’t recognize the gentle, reassuring sensation. Even so, it wouldn’t leave him alone. For some reason, it sprinted up his arms and settled in his shoulders while he added to the straw.

  To his surprise, his thoughts wouldn’t leave the Amish girl he’d just met. He didn’t know her well, but what he was sure of was that thinking about her made him grin. And he didn’t doubt why. She was such a generous, sharing spirit.

  As one of the horses entered the barn with a loud whinny, he wondered how Lydia would fit in with his eleven brothers and sisters. With his parents. Storm, the favorite horse to the little ones in his family, approached John and begged for attention.

  Laughing, John accommodated, running an affectionate, reassuring hand over the long cream-colored face. While he did so, the wind grew stronger. The creaking of the structure became louder. Every once in a while, a limb from the tall oaks made a dull sound against the building.

  And Lydia Schultz’s smile and enthusiasm filled his head until he shook it in surrender. Why can’t I get her off my mind? And how does she live without siblings? I’m sure I couldn’t survive without my brothers, sisters, and nieces and nephews. I love a noisy, love-filled home. In fact, I can’t recall a time without laughing, crying, or talking. And over all of my years, I have no idea how my mother managed to keep everyone’s laundry done. Or food on the table. Even with the help of my sisters.

  His mother washed every Tuesday and Friday morning. She was, without a doubt, the most organized person he knew. Of course, she had to be. The best cook, too. Automatically, he wondered if Lydia’s parents had yearned for more offspring. As the great strength of the wind tried to heave open the large doors, he acknowledged that he couldn’t wait to start a family of his own.

  Boys, girls, gender didn’t matter. What counted most was being together in a loving, Christian home. Automatically, his thoughts centered around Lydia. As Storm sucked up water from one of the troughs, the sound broke through John’s thoughts, and he chuckled. “Remind me to teach you some manners, pal.”

  While the friendly horse gave a swift shake of his head, water drops hit John in the face. But he didn’t focus on the beads hitting his face. Instead, he considered Lydia and how very little he knew about her.

  Amazingly, it seemed as if he’d known her his whole life. How could that be? He tried common sense. Perhaps it’s her friendly, caring nature. Or maybe it’s the enthusiastic sparkle in her eyes when she speaks. There’s something in her tone and her obvious sincerity that makes me want me to listen to her all day long.

  The mere thought of her prompted his heart to pick up to a happy pace. He drew a deep breath and blew it out in frustration. Why on earth was she on his mind so often? He silently chastised himself. He had keen instincts and Lydia seemed the epitome of everything good and wholesome.

  Obviously, her parents were fine people. Most of all, so was the girl. He loved everything she appeared to be: good and truthful. Of course, she was of the Plain Faith, which meant that there was even more reason to admire her.

  The Amish are hardworking folks. Loyal to their church. Their word’s good. But I’m Mennonite. He frowned. Because of that, I’ve got to stymie my interest in her. Because I’m sure she plans to join the Amish church. And I’m already a devout Mennonite.

  He rested his palms on the rake and tapped the toe of his black boot to a nervous, uneasy beat. Besides, we’re total opposites. She enjoys spontaneity. I like the same schedule every day. I hold my worries inside. She talks about hers. There are many reasons why I’ve got to quiet my feelings for this girl. And fast.

  * * *

  Lydia separated the eggs, placing the whites into one bowl and the yolks into another. She wiped her hands after dropping the shells into the lined garbage bag.

  “You do make the best sponge cakes,” Mamma said as she stepped inside the kitchen.

  “Thanks, Mamma.”

  “The little ones you’ll have someday will appreciate your culinary skills. You’ve definitely got a baker’s talent.”

  “Mamma, I’ve been thinking a lot about what to get Anna for Christmas. You got any ideas?”

  Mamma stepped beside her and rested an affectionate hand on Lydia’s shoulder. “Let’s see, now. She loves to knit and sew. Maybe you could buy her some material?”

  Lydia offered a simple shrug of her shoulders while she considered Mamma’s idea. As she mixed half of the sugar into the whites, she turned just long enough to catch the amused rise of her mother’s brow. “What?”

  “What do you mean, what?”

  “You’ve got that look on your face. That expression that tells me when you’re thinking something you’re not saying. Tell me what’s on your mind.”

  “I was just thinking.” Her mother began to pull the silverware from the drawer and polish each individual fork. “Anna always longed for you to knit. Didn’t she give you some yarn last Christmas?”

  Lydia nodded, not diverting her attention from her task at hand. “You know that I’m the cook and Anna’s the seamstress. I wouldn’t even attempt to begin to be half as good as her in that area.”

  Lydia stopped a moment to consider what she’d just said. She frowned. Because she was contradicting her very own outlook on change. She welcomed it!

  As she began mixing again, an idea started flitting through her mind until she straightened her shoulders and turned quickly toward her mother. “That’s it, Mamma! I’ll knit Anna a gift with the yarn she gave me last Christmas!”

  Mamma joined her with a smile. “That’s my Lydia. Always up for a challenge. I think that’s a wonderful idea.”

  While Lydia beamed at knitting something for her sister, she was convinced that whatever she did with the yarn would truly be special for Anna. Something made from the beautiful hues of blue would definitely stand out from anything else that Lydia could buy. And even though Lydia didn’t have the slightest idea what she’d make, she was, without a doubt, most certain that whatever it was would bring her sister great joy.

  * * *

  That evening, Lydia glimpsed the balls of yarn on her bed and shoved out a determined breath. With skepticism, she eyed the two silver knitting needles that she’d borrowed from Mamma.

  I confessed to John that I enjoy change. There’s no better time to really prove it than the present. She’d never yearned to knit. Now, she was going to do it. For her sister.

  Attempting to focus on what needed done, she began her project, unraveling some of the strand. She knew how to knit. Anna had taught her. Now, like it or not, it was time to put what she’d learned to use.

  As the needles clicked, she made herself comfortable against the headboard, leaning back and bending her knees so that the yarn rested in between her legs.

  An hour later, what she’d accomplished prompted her to draw in a breath that was a combination of surprise and joy. As she continued her work, she allowed her thoughts t
o wander to when her sister would be home.

  Lydia smiled a little. As the kerosene heater warmed the room, the burning candles surrounded her, providing enough light for Lydia to knit. The anxiety she’d experienced at the start of her project slowly evaporated and she found herself dreaming of Christmas with her sister.

  While the smell of cinnamon candles floated deliciously through the room, she wondered how many dumplings Mamma would make. There would be lots of people. Tons of food. Gifts. Laughter. Lydia imagined opening her gifts. Even better, she envisioned handing hers to each member of her family.

  She studied what she’d done so far and smiled a little. The most difficult part of knitting had been deciding to do it. Now she actually enjoyed picturing the expression of great joy and appreciation on Anna’s face when she held Lydia’s gift in front of her.

  Lydia wanted this particular work to be a special surprise. Something that would show Anna just how much she really loved her. And Lydia would save this particular present until all others had been opened.

  She smiled while she dreamed of the cinnamon roll drive Christmas Eve and her family gathering Christmas day. And I thought this year was going to be the worst Christmas ever. It will be the best. A blue knit scarf is the perfect gift for my sister!

  * * *

  A couple of days later, John looked toward the entrance of the bakery. As it opened, Lydia stepped inside. The bell sounded. A huge gust of cold air accompanied her.

  Automatically, he laid down his metal tray of pastries and stepped to close the door for her. After returning her friendly greeting, he motioned to a circular table next to the fireplace. As she moved to the chair, he pulled it out for her and gently pushed it closer to the table after she’d seated herself.

  While they looked at each other, that all-too-familiar excitement that he experienced when he was around her zoomed up his arms. He quickly found his manners and glanced at the area behind the counter. “Lydia, this is Hannah, one of my sisters. Hannah, Lydia Schultz.”