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

by Susan Rohrer

  These weeks, she’d never forget.

  She wrote about getting to know Aunt Hope, and how they’d whisper late into the night about every little thing. She recounted what fun ice-skating was and how fascinating the hospital had been, despite Aunt Hope’s still-mending wrist. Entries on what she experienced in the English church weren’t so very Amish, but Bethany would understand.

  There was the rosy color in Leanne’s baby’s cheeks to document, and what it was like to cook with gas instead of their wood-burning stove. It made her blush all over again to write how she’d been wearing that English uniform and caroling into a microphone for the sake of Aunt Hope’s job.

  When it came to the details with Daniel—well, they seemed almost too precious to confide via pen and paper. Her heart swelled just to think of the things he’d said to her, and the miracle of what was growing between them. These were secrets she would only write on her heart. She would save them to share with Bethany face to face.

  One thing was for certain. This had been a trip she would always remember. How quickly the time had passed. Though so different from what she had known, life in the city had become familiar, and not so frightening as it once had been. It was easy to see how the English world could grow on a person, and how quickly the use of technology could become an everyday practice. She had never considered it a hardship to do without such things. Then again, until now, she hadn’t had much basis for comparison.

  Despite the differences, some of the essentials seemed exactly the same. When morning came, she rose, said a prayer of thanks, and began to make breakfast for everyone, just like she always did at home. Work at the Café Troubadour was brisk, but no more so than her regular chores. What she enjoyed, she realized, were not the glittery trappings of modern life. It was the people she lived and worked with there that were finding a place in her heart. Customers were beginning to ask for her, and call her by name. Even Goldie. Now, Christmas week was upon them. It was hard to believe that, in just a matter of days, they’d be boarding the train once again.

  Charity placed napkins and utensils around a booth at the café. There was something satisfying about resetting a table that Daniel had freshly bussed. She loved exchanging those affectionate looks with him in passing. They communicated so much. Daniel had become a treasured part of her days, and she relished every moment with him.

  Frank and Myrna were growing on her, too. Also, Shep was a sheer delight. What a special man he was, always a smile and a kind word, and never a complaint. She wondered just how it was that he’d learned all the music he seemed to know, how despite his blindness, his fingers found their way so effortlessly across the piano keys. It must be a gift, she decided.

  Charity watched as Shep accompanied Aunt Hope, his faithful guide dog lounging at his feet. Shep softly swayed on his bench as Hope sang to the café’s patrons. It wasn’t a carol Charity had heard before, but the melody was liltingly pleasant. Most of all, it was the lyrics that caught her attention. It was something about a vow to be home for Christmas, a promise to be counted on for certain, whether in reality or in a dream.

  There was such a faraway look in her Aunt Hope’s eyes as she sang that particular song. There was a bittersweet longing, the likes of which Charity hadn’t yet seen. She could only hope her aunt meant those words she was singing, and that something in that song was helping her to make peace with the idea of finally returning home.

  Something about Ivan was growing on Charity. It was hard to put her finger on exactly what it was. Maybe it was pity over his childhood. Maybe it was the way he kept going to Aunt Hope’s church and remained such a jubilant part of the choir each Sunday, even after she had broken things off with him. It could have been the shoeblack stains on his fingertips, how it told of much hard work. Then again, it was probably the way he’d wait outside the Troubadour each night at closing time, wanting to see Aunt Hope safely back to her apartment.

  Manhattan was pretty at night. Charity had to admit it. Though a crush of sights and sounds, it seemed more tranquil somehow, once night fell. There was something blissful about strolling back toward Hope’s apartment—Daniel at her side, and Ivan at Aunt Hope’s—the city sparkling with a million lights. It begged her to drink in the moment.

  Along the way, they came upon a makeshift forest of fresh cut Christmas trees. Aunt Hope paused. She took an evergreen bough in her hand, leaned close, and drank in the aroma.

  The tree vendor ambled over. “We got your blue spruce, your balsam fir, scotch pine... Take your pick.”

  Aunt Hope turned. “Pure heaven, aren’t they?”

  Charity took a whiff. “By now, Dat has brought cut greens inside from the woods. I suppose the twins helped him to arrange them this year. I’ll bring the holly in from the yard on Christmas Eve so the berries will be fresh yet.”

  Daniel took in the scent. “Getting close now.”

  “Who lights the Christmas candle these days?” Aunt Hope asked.

  “I do. Or I should say, I have.” It touched Charity to realize that Aunt Hope remembered their family tradition after so many years. “It’ll pass to the twins next, although I don’t know which one will do it. Aaron thinks it should come to him since he was born first. But Dat said it’s the candle or carving the turkey. Of course, Aaron doesn’t want to give that up either, but one or the other will go to Isaac.”

  Aunt Hope smiled wryly. “I’d definitely hold out for the candle.”

  The tree vendor straightened a stately tree. “Just so you know... These beauties are all twenty-five percent off since it’s Christmas week.”

  Ivan’s eyes lit up as he turned to Aunt Hope. “Would you like one? I would be glad to carry it for you.”

  Aunt Hope looked over the tree longingly. Finally, she shook her head with a glance toward Charity and Daniel. “No. Christmas trees...see, Ivan, the Amish, they don’t really have them in their homes. Their decorations are much simpler, so—”

  “A wreath, then,” Ivan went on, “for your door. I insist.”

  Charity glanced between them. “A wreath is just a small gathering of greenery. Could be a good compromise.” Daniel nodded in agreement.

  Aunt Hope pressed her lips. “Well...”

  Ivan took Aunt Hope by her good arm. “Let me do this. Come over here, and we will pick out a nice one.” She looked back only briefly as Ivan led her away, toward the display of wreaths.

  As they waited, Charity wandered the lot with Daniel. Soon, they were surrounded by evergreens. In a way, it was as if the city had disappeared. Charity took in the aroma of balsam. “Not quite like the woods at home, but wonderful still.”

  Daniel took Charity in his arms. He drew her close. “I think I like having more trees around me than people,” he confided.

  Playfully Charity stepped away. “Should I leave you, then?” She didn’t get far before Daniel pulled her back into a kiss. In the chill of the night air, his warm lips were especially inviting. It was as if he were communicating with her, freely expressing just how much she meant to him. After a moment, Charity broke away from him. She couldn’t help blushing. “Daniel, they’ll come back.”

  “And if they do...?” Daniel drew Charity into yet another kiss.

  “They’ll see,” Charity whispered, her lips barely leaving his.

  “Yes,” Daniel acknowledged, not seeming to mind at all. “They’ll see that I love you more with each passing day. That I want you to be my wife.”

  Charity gazed at Daniel, stunned. How far they’d come in such a very short time. There had never been anyone else for her, not in her whole life growing up as his friend and neighbor. But there was so much they hadn’t talked about yet, so much they hadn’t said before this trip.

  Everything in her wanted to accept his proposal immediately. She longed to talk all about being published at church, to commit to a life with him amongst the Amish. But how could she not feel torn by the unresolved situation with Aunt Hope? Still, there was no mistaking it. The pull of his heart
on hers was undeniable. Where were the words?

  Taking her hands in his, Daniel looked full into Charity’s face. He never wavered, almost as if he knew what she was thinking. “I realize that you have family obligations,” he began, “and that there are many things you need to put to mind yet. I promise, I will do my best not to press you. But when we get back, know this is my intent.”

  Hope unlocked her apartment, then stood aside for Charity to enter. Ivan lingered at the door with Daniel, examining the burnished brass knocker. No doubt, he had spotted it as a place to attach the wreath. Men love a project, Hope recalled. They would waste no time embarking upon this one.

  Inside, Leanne wrapped a soft cotton blanket around her freshly changed baby. Hope was surprised to see a box of diapers and an array of infant products on the coffee table. Frankly, Hope hadn’t expected to see the baby still there at all. Hadn’t Leanne’s appointment with the adoption agency been that afternoon?

  As much as she was tempted to ask about it, Hope reminded herself not to push. Just like Hope, Leanne was at a crossroads. She faced a decision that would define the rest of her life, and she needed to make it herself.

  Ivan released the knocker with a clack. “Daniel, do you have some twine?”

  Charity removed her bonnet. “You could use some of my thread. I have a heavy gauge spool that would work.” With that, Charity was off to fetch her sewing basket.

  Leanne bounced the baby in her arms, an eye toward Ivan at the door. “Well, good. You got a wreath to hang. It’s about time it started lookin’ like Christmas around here.”

  As she took off her coat, Hope wandered over toward Leanne and the baby. “Leanne, I thought... What’s all this?”

  Leanne used a small cloth to blot spit-up from the baby’s face. “I know. I know. I told you I was givin’ him up this morning. I even went by the adoption place. But he’s so little... I decided to keep him a few more days. Let him get stronger, you know?”

  It was a delicate subject Hope knew she needed to broach. Better not to loom over Leanne for this. She took a seat beside her on the sofa. The baby’s eyes fluttered to a close as he drifted off to sleep. So tiny and sweet. No wonder Leanne had found it difficult to part with him. Surely, bonds were already growing as she’d been nursing him at her breast.

  Hope loved everything about babies, from the scent of an infant’s head to its impossibly tiny fingers and toes with those paper-thin nails. How long had she dreamed of having a child of her own one day? The nagging questions for her were always where and with whom. That was part of what had made the decision to reject Ivan’s proposal so difficult. Her own procrastination gnawing at her, she turned to Leanne. “You know it won’t be any easier to give him up down the road.”

  Leanne stroked her baby’s soft tuft of dark hair. “Tell me somethin’ I don’t know. Truth is, I hate to give him up at all. I just don’t see how I can work and take care of him. Poor little guy don’t even have a name yet. How pitiful is that?”

  Hope thought about how much easier it was to see answers for Leanne than it was for herself. Perhaps it was her maternal instincts kicking in, or maybe the fact that Leanne wasn’t much more than a child herself. “There is a way, you know.”

  Leanne shook her head. “Okay. If I couldn’t face my parents when I got pregnant, how am I supposed to tell them I have a baby?”

  Regret washed over Hope. It was one of those familiar waves that would ebb in time, then come back to crash on her all over again. She had waited too long to go back to her own parents, till her mother had passed. It all seemed so final, so unchangeable for her, but maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t too late for Leanne.

  “Leanne, your mom and dad... Are they good people?”

  Leanne’s eyes misted at the thought. “They’re over-the-top fantabulous people. They’re everything I’m not.”

  Hope empathized. She’d thought that about her own parents, more times that she could count. Her mother had been an extraordinary woman of faith. She was reflexively forgiving and kind, with an underlying strength that seemed far beyond her petite frame. She’d had a gift for encouragement, something Hope tried to emulate.

  Gently, Hope stroked the baby’s head. “You carried this baby when a lot of girls wouldn’t have. I think that’s pretty great.”

  Leanne brightened noticeably. She looked almost dumfounded. “Really?”

  Just then, Charity returned with the heavy thread and scissors. She passed on her way toward the door.

  Hope put a comforting hand on Leanne’s shoulder. “Yeah. I do. And I can’t help but think that your mom would want to meet her grandson.”

  Panic chased across Leanne’s expression. “Oh, I don’t know.”

  “He’s their family, too,” Hope assured. “And that bond, it’s bigger than all the mess-ups and all the miles you could ever put between you.”

  Leanne wrinkled her nose. “I thought about callin’ plenty of times. It’s just... I can’t seem to pick up the phone.”

  Hope glanced over to the door where Charity and Daniel helped Ivan with the wreath. She looked back at Leanne, her voice steadied by personal conviction. “They’ll take you back, Leanne. I know it. Just like my family would take me.”

  Alone in her bedroom, Hope slid open her bottom dresser drawer. She felt beyond her cardigans and socks, deep into the back, and pulled out a small bundle, wrapped in tissue. How long it had been stowed away, Hope wasn’t sure. She only knew it felt like reaching back in time, to a far away place, to an era that seemed far too distant to recapture.

  Almost reverently, Hope unfolded the tissue. Inside was her old prayer covering, the white kapp she’d worn so long ago, after being baptized at seventeen. Bittersweet memories flooded. Even then, she’d known her motives hadn’t been entirely pure. She had given her life to the Lord to be sure, but there was something else she’d been given over to that day, something she’d never told anyone, no one except Charity’s mother, Grace.

  It was a secret Grace had taken to her grave.

  That long-regretted truth, that was the reason Hope had committed to the Amish life as hastily as she did. Without question, her profession of faith had been sincere, but when she was completely honest with herself, she had made it at the time that she did in the hopes of impressing that young man: Joseph Glick.

  A few years older than she, Joseph had already been a member of the church. He’d been following in the footsteps of his father, their bishop. Joseph was so handsome, so committed to the Amish way of life. He’d been very friendly with her at a number of the singings, while undecided about whom he might pursue as a wife. Constance had been closer to his age, but in Hope’s mind, she’d seen herself as being every bit as mature.

  So, she had donned this very white kapp.

  She had rushed to take her vows.

  And she had secretly prayed that Joseph would take notice of her as the woman she was becoming.

  What a fraud she was. She hadn’t deserved him at all. It hadn’t been long afterward that Joseph began to call on Constance. When he did, it had pierced Hope beyond what she’d felt she could survive. Only Grace had known how she had wept for him. Only Grace had realized how deeply she had repented, how she’d tarnished the purity of her baptism with unrequited longing for a man.

  Funny, how quickly her feelings for Joseph had faded. She had long gotten over him. That pain had paled as the girlhood crush that it was. But the gaping wound that had remained open for seventeen years, that had been the devastating loss of Grace, so very soon to follow.

  It hadn’t seemed possible that Grace could have been so alive, so brimming with joy over the birth of twin sons, then gone forever in the very next moment. Modern medicine could have saved her, yet she’d held Grace’s hand and watched her die, before Grace ever even cradled her own sons.

  That had done it for her. That was when she’d packed what little she owned and gathered all the money she had to her name. It had been far too difficult to face her parents.
It was cowardly, but she had made her excuses to them in a letter.

  Only Nathan had seen her slip out. In his brotherly way, he had done his best to calm her. She could still hear his voice. How he tried to persuade her to give herself time to grieve along with the rest of them. But she had shut his pleas out, far too distraught to listen.

  That was when she had boarded the train in town. She’d made her way to New York City. That week, she had taken off her kapp for the last time, and sheared her long hair for the first. She had sold her locks to a place that made wigs for cancer patients. To think it would cover another woman’s head helped her get over her guilt in cutting it. Shame had lingered, but it ebbed over time.

  All those Plain dresses she’d brought to the city... What had she been thinking? How out of place she’d felt wearing them from the very first day. She’d picked up some English clothes, gotten her G.E.D. and gone straight to work amongst them, without a word of who she was, or what her upbringing had been. Day after day, she’d distanced herself from the person she had been. She’d drifted farther and farther from the family she adored.

  Lost in thought, Hope barely noticed when Charity entered.

  Charity saw the kapp in her hands immediately. “You still have yours.”

  A nostalgic smile crept across Hope’s lips. “Just the one. I figured I’d need it if I ever went back.” Hope turned toward the mirror. For the first time in many years, she eased the covering over her shoulder-length tresses. Silently, Charity stepped up behind her as she studied her image.

  Hope drew the kapp’s ribbons forward over her shoulders. “Wow. Weighty little thing.”

  Charity nodded. “Means a lot.”

  “Brings a lot back,” Hope confessed.

  There were times it seemed that Charity could see right through her, just the way Grace always had.