Bright Christmas: an Amish love story (Redeeming Romance Series)

by Susan Rohrer

  Daniel looked up. “How do you mean?”

  Charity searched for words. There was no turning back now. “I’m not really sure. You seem somehow...displeased with me.”

  His brow knitted. “Do I?”

  Charity put the doll down and moved to Daniel’s side on the sofa. She lowered her voice. “Is it because I kissed you?”

  “No, not at all. Believe me.”

  “Is it because I gave the money I made to Leanne?”

  “No. Of course, not.”

  Charity sat back, still unsettled in her spirit. “Then, it is something.”

  Daniel seemed to mull it over briefly before he turned his attention back to her. “You did well. Singing.”

  “Is it because I sang in harmony? Or with the piano?”

  “No, it’s... You did seem to enjoy it.”

  Charity studied him intently. “Does that give you some concern?”

  Another moment or two passed before Daniel responded. “I suppose. That you would come to like it too well yet.”

  “Daniel, I was helping Aunt Hope. It was the only way. She needs her job.”

  “Not if she comes back with us.”

  Charity let out a sigh. He was right. “No. I guess not, but...” Why was she so conflicted? Life with the English hadn’t been at all what she’d imagined it would be. It was not void of faith or the simple joys she relished in Amish life. There were just different joys to be discovered. Suddenly, it dawned on her. She was, indeed, feeling the pull of the English world. Dat had told her to expect it, but in fairness, it didn’t seem like such a bad thing.

  She studied Daniel. “You don’t like it here much, do you now?”

  Daniel raised a brow. “It doesn’t matter so much if I like it or not. This isn’t our life.”

  “It’s Aunt Hope’s life, though. And she’s a part of me.”

  “She hasn’t been. Not anymore. Not since she chose to leave us.”

  Nothing in Charity wanted to challenge Daniel. Yet, honesty compelled her. Somehow she should find the strength she needed. Before she could hold them back, tears overtook her. “I know what you’re saying, Daniel, but at the same time... I guess I don’t know anymore. Not for sure.”

  Daniel set aside the paints and lovingly turned to her. “What? Tell me. What do you not know? There’s nothing that you can’t share with me.”

  As she searched his eyes, what she saw was compassion. She really could tell him anything, even the hard truth that was troubling her. “If she won’t come back with us, I don’t know if I could keep shutting her out, just because she lives in the world. I’m sorry, Daniel, but is that so wrong? Aunt Hope trusts the same Gott that we do. She lives our faith. She is kind and giving.”

  “And she has abandoned the vows of her baptism, vows she made to Gott,” Daniel whispered. He glanced toward Leanne’s door. “She has broken the heart of her father. She has deserted her family, her friends. You have to see it in that light.”

  Charity tried to absorb it, but his words wrestled with the conviction growing inside her. “She would have visited if she’d felt welcome to come and go. I’m sure. With the changes, there are others within our district that let loved ones who were once shunned visit on occasion. The bishop allowed it. And they at least exchange letters from time to time.”

  Gently, he covered her hand with his. “Charity, people look up to your father. They respect mine, too. Yes, there are those few at home who are starting to make these concessions, but by far, they’re in the minority. It’s just the Beacheys. That isn’t the example our fathers have set, or that they’ve asked us to honor.”

  Charity nodded, understanding. Still, it was hard to fathom what good cutting her Aunt Hope off completely had done. “Dat says she has written to us every Christmas. We’re the ones who don’t respond. Can you imagine how she would feel after this?”

  Daniel laced his fingers into hers. “I’ve thought about this, too, Charity. And even if we did respond, if we let her visit, the problem is that she’d never come back to stay. Then, more and more, others would join the few who want to do it now. You know they would. In and out, English and Amish, till the life we know would be lost forever.”

  Charity absorbed it thoughtfully. He had an undeniable point, and he had made it with such patience. It made her admire him all the more. It told her she was safe with him. That she could reveal the deepest secrets of her heart.

  “Yes, Daniel. I know what you’re saying, but... Between us, does it ever set you to wonder? Do you ever question these things at all?”

  Daniel sat quietly. “No.”

  “Honestly.”

  “It seems you do.” From the look he returned, Charity could tell that Daniel was more than concerned. He broke her gaze sadly.

  All at once, Leanne burst through her door, shattering their silence. Daniel released her hand.

  Leanne marched straight to the coffee table where Daniel had been working and slapped Charity’s money down. “There! Count it if you want.” The pile of coins she’d pilfered came next, in fitful handfuls, fished from her pockets. “That’s all of it.”

  Charity raised her hands. “Leanne, stop. You don’t have to do this. Just put the quarters back in the tip jar along with what I gave you. This whole thing can stay between us.”

  “I’m a runaway,” Leanne spat. “I’m giving up my own baby to who knows who. I totally ripped Hope off. And, what, you’re not gonna turn me in?”

  Daniel shook his head. “Turning you in... That’s... It’s just not our way.”

  The front door opened. Aunt Hope eased into the room. Charity’s gaze darted to Aunt Hope as Leanne wagged an insistent finger at Daniel. “No, your way is... See, you don’t have to say a word. Uh-uh. You just sit there all glowy and wonderful, showing up what a complete mound of mess I am!”

  Hope strode to Charity’s side. “Leanne!”

  Charity rose. “It’s all right.”

  Hotly, Leanne blurted. “No, it ain’t all right!” She turned to Aunt Hope. “I stole your tips, then she gave me what I needed to pay you back. So, go ahead. Here’s your chance. Go on, boot me!”

  A bewildered look on her face, Aunt Hope faced Leanne. “Leanne... I’m not going to put you out of here.”

  Leanne flashed from Charity and Daniel. She whirled back to Aunt Hope. “None of y’all get it, do you? I’m a bad person. I royally destroy everything I manage to touch. I got nobody! I been crampin’ somethin’ awful all day and got nothin’ to go to a doctor—”

  Aunt Hope’s eyes widened. “You’re in labor?”

  “No, course not. Can’t be,” Leanne winced. “I still got a month to go before—”

  Charity exchanged a concerned glance with Aunt Hope. “How long between the cramps?”

  “What difference does it make?” Leanne squeezed at her middle.

  Taking Leanne by the arms, Aunt Hope focused straight into her eyes. “Leanne, stop. I want you to answer me, just one question. How long between the cramps?”

  Leanne shifted restlessly. “I don’t know. It’s not like I’m counting. Couple-three minutes maybe.”

  It hadn’t been so very long since Charity had assisted in the birth of Daniel’s cousin, Lydia’s baby. Lydia had borne up very bravely. She’d barely whimpered, despite the length of her labor. Still, pushing had to have been so very painful. Even just watching how traumatic that birth had been had left Charity lightheaded. Thank Gott for the midwife, though. Thank Gott that, step-by-step, that midwife had talked her through the entire process with Lydia. Charity laid a hand on her heart.

  Please Gott, help me remember.

  Leanne lay on the futon, buckled over with a contraction. Charity checked beneath her skirt, just as the mid-wife had shown her with Lydia. Charity caught her breath. The baby was already crowning.

  Aunt Hope burst in with her keys. “We should get her to the hospital.”

  Charity shook her head. “There’s no time. She’s too close.”

&nb
sp; Leanne writhed. “I’m having this baby now?”

  Gently, Charity lowered Leanne’s skirt. “Soon. Just breathe.”

  Panic raced across Leanne’s face. She searched Charity’s eyes. “You know how to do this?”

  “So I do,” Charity nodded, as much for Aunt Hope’s sake as for Leanne’s. “Aunt Hope, would you please ask Daniel to boil some water? Use it to sterilize a sharp knife and a needle from my sewing kit. There’s some thread in there, too.”

  Leanne trembled. “You have to cut me?”

  “Just the cord, let’s pray.”

  Aunt Hope started for the door. “I’m calling an ambulance. I’m not going to let her—”

  “I told you no ambulances!” Leanne screamed. “I can’t pay for no hospital!”

  Calmly, Charity intervened. “Aunt Hope, it’s almost time. They couldn’t get here anyway. The baby is in a good position. We’ll be all right. Just tell Daniel what I need.”

  Horrorstruck, Leanne erupted. “No! I can’t do this. It hurts!”

  Charity leaned forward, her gaze quite intent. “Leanne, I want you to look at me.” Try as she might, she could not catch the thrashing girl’s eyes. “No, right here, Leanne. Breathe with me.”

  Methodically, Charity demonstrated. Finally. Leanne started to match Charity’s breaths. Charity whispered to Aunt Hope. “Can you get started with those things we need?” A look of grave concern weighed heavily on Aunt Hope’s face, but she left compliantly.

  Charity turned back to Leanne, her words measured and sure. “When I say so, I’m going to need you to push. Until then, just keep up your breathing, okay?”

  “Okay,” Leanne whimpered.

  By the time Hope reached the kitchen, Daniel was already running water into a stainless steel pot. Instinctively, she reached into a cabinet for a tempered glass pitcher. “Even with a gas stove, the microwave’s faster. But we can’t use metal in there.”

  Daniel hesitated. Just as she expected, he was avoiding the microwave. Out of respect for them, she’d avoided it, too, up until then, but he would just have to understand.

  Determined, Hope edged Daniel out of her way. She swiveled the faucet to her side, and started to fill the pitcher. “Look, Daniel, boiling water is boiling water. God created electricity anyway. What do you think lightning is? The microwave just harnesses that power. You know what? If it’s sin, I’ll take it on me. Just let me do it.”

  Raising his hands, Daniel stepped back.

  Hope felt horrible immediately. She, of all people, should be more compassionate about where he was coming from. Still, the memories that this moment evoked flooded back in excruciatingly vivid detail. She had boiled water then. She had coached Grace with her breathing as Aaron and Isaac had entered this world, one right after the other. She had held Grace’s sweet hand until all the warmth drained out of it and the spark of life had left her eyes. There was an absence about that look that she would never forget.

  Hope checked the slowly filling pitcher. Get it together, she coached herself. Let him help how he can. “I’m sorry. I’m just... There’s a hand sharpener in the drawer to put a fresh edge on that knife. Could you give me a hand with that?”

  Daniel opened Hope’s utensil drawer and started to root around. “She’ll be all right.”

  Hope shut the spigot off. “With all respect—and I’m really trying to give you that, Daniel—you don’t know she’ll be all right. You can’t know that. Only the good Lord does.” She placed the water pitcher into the microwave and started it.

  Daniel located the sharpener. “Charity has helped birth a baby before. My cousin, Lydia’s.”

  “So had I,” Hope recalled. “I also watched her mother die, exactly this way.” She hurried into the living room and grabbed Charity’s sewing kit.

  Daniel began to draw the knife’s blade against the sharpener. “Has no woman ever died giving birth in a hospital?”

  Returning, Hope pulled the lid off Charity’s basket. “I’m sure some do. That’s not the point.”

  Daniel sharpened the knife expertly. His words were calm, yet penetrating, all at the same time. “And did you abandon the city because of it?”

  “Daniel...”

  “No, you didn’t. Because, as sad as it is, people die. It happens in hospitals, and it happens at home. It’s a part of life.”

  Hot tears burned Hope’s eyes. “Grace did not have to die.”

  Daniel took it in contemplatively. “We all have to die sometime.”

  Wiping her face, Hope pulled a needle from Charity’s kit. Long buried anger burned in her throat. “She was the best friend I had in this world, and she did not have to leave us. Not then.”

  They turned at the sound of a newborn’s cry.

  Hope threw open the door to Leanne’s room, just in time to see Charity rise with the fretful infant. Leanne reached out, soaked with emotion. Hope closed the door and slumped against it. She pressed a hand to her heaving chest. So far, they were okay.

  Charity beamed at Leanne. “You have a son.”

  Leanne laughed through her tears. “A boy? Oh, look... Can I?”

  Carefully, Charity extended the baby to Leanne. “You can hold him. There.”

  Hope watched wordlessly as Leanne gazed in amazement at her son. From all appearances, she would be all right.

  “Look Hope. He’s so little. And, yikes. So gunky. Is that okay?”

  A smile curled across Charity’s lips. “He’s fine. We’ll get some salt and clean him up.”

  Leanne drew her infant close. “Shhh, Darlin’. It’s all right. I’m here. I’m here.”

  Serenely, Charity looked up. Hope leaned her head back against the doorjamb, relieved beyond words. No matter the circumstances, a new life had safely come into this world. It seemed a sacred privilege to be part of it.

  When Hope emerged from Leanne’s room, she found Daniel waiting quietly. He was far from an expectant father, she thought, but he still had that familiar look of concern on his face as he stood there. It reminded her of Nathan’s expression when the twins had come, so many years ago. What a bittersweet responsibility it had been to break the news to her brother that, while he was the father of two infant sons, his dear wife had died in the process.

  Hope did her best to shake off the past as she moved to Daniel’s side. “They’re fine. Charity did a good job.”

  Daniel nodded.

  As hard as she tried to prevent it, a tear slipped down Hope’s cheek.

  Tenderly, Daniel brushed her shoulder, then sat down on the couch. “It was a long time ago. But I am sorry for your loss.”

  Hope wiped her face. “It was Charity’s loss, too. Her mother.”

  Daniel’s eyes were filled with understanding. “Yes. And your best friend.”

  Hope sat beside him, deep in thought. “Did you know Charity’s mother?”

  “I was only seven, so not much, but my parents knew her,” Daniel replied. “They said she was a good woman. We all stood with her at her burial. It rained that day. Seems like an odd memory.”

  So, he had been there. Daniel never intended to hurt her, but even the mere mention of Grace’s burial plagued her. At the time, she’d been far too overwhelmed with grief and anger to even think about attending. Instead, she’d found herself leaving them all. She’d quietly slipped away from everything and everyone she had ever held dear. Even when she’d told Nathan she’d just be revisiting her Rumspringa, she’d known it was much more.

  Hope exchanged a solemn look with Daniel. “I wish I had done things differently. I guess I just couldn’t face saying goodbye to her, and acting like it was okay. I didn’t think I’d miss my family as much as I did. Still do.” She shook her head and shrugged her shoulders. “And now my own mother is gone. Can’t change that.”

  Daniel shook his head softly. “No. But you can change your future. You can come home now.”

  Hope breathed in deeply. She really should consider it. Seriously, this time. For a moment, she allowed
herself to think it: I’m going home. But as soon as those words crossed her mind, the realities she knew she’d have to face came tumbling over top of them.

  She turned to regard him. “Tell me something, Daniel. Honestly, I’m not trying to be adversarial. I just really need to know. Not what you think I’d like to hear, but the truth.”

  Holding her gaze, Daniel nodded. “All right.”

  Hope paused. This was sensitive territory. “I know your community is more conservative than some about childbirth, and even then, a few of the younger generation differ about medical care. I also understand the financial challenges since the Amish have no health insurance. So, I just have to ask...” She took a measured breath. “If it were Charity’s life on the line—if she were the one you could save by going to a hospital to give birth—would you take her to one?”

  A sober expression formed on Daniel’s face. “I believe what they teach us,” he started, “that it is not about the death we fear, so much as the life we choose to live.” Daniel paused. “It would be agony, yes. It would be the greatest test of my faith.” He stopped again, his eyes glistening. “Honestly, I don’t know. But I hope I would choose to have our children born in the comfort of our home, and trust Gott to do what’s best.”

  Hope nodded, taking it in. A part of her wanted to rail at him. Why would he stand so stalwartly by such outdated medical practices, even at the risk of a life so precious as Charity’s? But the other part of her admired his conviction, and the love he so clearly had for her niece.

  Daniel was every bit like Nathan, Hope realized. He was a good, devout man who would love Charity every single day that she had breath. But the thought that Charity’s life could be unnecessarily cut short, that weighed as heavy on her heart as the decision she had to make. Either way, she realized, she would be grieving again. One way or another, she would have to say goodbye.

  thirteen

  As the days added up to nearly three weeks in the city, Charity found herself falling into a rhythm. Night after night, she’d record what had happened in a journal. She had started it for Bethany, but she realized that she wanted it just as much as a keepsake for herself.