His big old house felt especially empty today, and he could hardly wait to get out of there. When he’d been a small child, it had felt much the same. His father gone, his mother sad and exhausted when she came home from work, and his grandfather elderly and distant. At least next door he had people who cared about him. A place where he would not have to be lonely.
Getting to go next door into the bustle of other children playing, and the sheer joy of Keturah’s kitchen had felt like the difference between coming out of the dark and going into the light.
As he walked through the snow, carrying the brightly-colored fruitcake tin to the Hochstetlers, he wondered what Cassie was doing this Christmas day. She didn’t have any family; at least none with whom she was close enough to visit for Christmas. The childhood she’d described to him, with her parents dying in a car crash, then living with a bachelor uncle until she went away to college, had always sounded rather sterile. He didn’t even know what family traditions she might have grown up with as a kid. Cassie never wanted to talk about anything from her past. He always figured it was because losing her parents as a teenager had been too traumatic, so he never pried.
Chapter 16
By the time Rachel got home, she was aching for sleep, but seven-year-old Bobby was buzzing around the house, waiting for her to arrive.
“Santa came!” he shouted, as she came through the back door. He grabbed her hand and started tugging her into the living room. “Come see.”
“Let me take my coat off first,” she laughed, brushing snow off her shoulders and shaking it out of her hair. “You go on in and I’ll be right there.”
“Okay, but hurry!” He ran toward the living room. “I have lots of presents to unwrap!”
“Welcome home.” Her husband, Joe, gave her a quick kiss, and helped her take off her police jacket.
“It’s good to be home,” she said. “The roads are awful and there were three wrecks to deal with, or I would have been here sooner. Why don’t people have enough sense to stay home when the roads are iced over?”
“When are you going to give up and figure out that people don’t have any sense? Except maybe for me and you—and sometimes I’m not so sure about us. I was worried about you,” Joe said. “I hope you’re not hungry. I’m afraid Bobby is going to explode if we don’t get in there soon.”
“Did you have a rough morning holding him back?” She unbuckled her utility belt and laid it on a high shelf.
“Do you even have to ask? Bobby has been up since five.”
“Oh dear.”
“I let him dig into his stocking. That helped a little.”
“Hurry up, Rachel.” Bobby poked his head into the kitchen, “Santa brought me a lot more presents this year than he did last year.”
“I’m not surprised.” She shot a glance at Joe. “Santa must have had a better year than last.”
“Santa did have a rather hard year last Christmas,” Joe said.
“How do you know?” Bobby asked, a worried look on his face. “Did Santa tell you?”
“No, son,” Joe said. “I read about it in the newspaper.”
“Why?” Bobby said. “What happened? Why did Santa have a hard year?”
Rachel had experienced this sort of thing before with Bobby. The little boy had such a tender heart, he often took comments they made more seriously than they intended.
Joe looked a little desperate as he searched his brain for an answer. “I think the elves went on strike for better wages or something.”
“Oh.” The pull of presents was too strong for Bobby to inquire any further. He ran back into the living room.
“The elves went on strike?” Rachel whispered. “That’s a new one, Joe.”
“What did you want me to say?” he whispered back. “Was I supposed to tell him that the reason he has presents this year is because Daddy and Uncle Darren’s restaurant is finally making some money?”
“Hi Rachel,” Darren waved from where he sat cross-legged on the floor next to the tree. “I’ve been trying to protect the presents. Bobby is of the opinion that shaking a box to guess what’s inside doesn’t count as opening it. I’m afraid some of them are getting a little worse for wear.”
Rachel sank onto the couch, rejoicing in the fact that she had a healthy, happy little stepson whose only problem was deciding which present to open first. It was a nice counterbalance to what she’d dealt with earlier—the sight of that poor mother’s body after the wreck. She tried to wipe away the memory, at least temporarily, so that she could enjoy this moment, but the mystery of who the Christmas baby belonged to stayed in the back of her mind.
“Okay?” Bobby held a red box in his hand, decorated with a gold ribbon.
“Sure,” Rachel said. He might as well open that package first. It contained only a bathrobe and matching pajamas. Bobby needed them, because he was growing like a weed, but they weren’t the most exciting present under the tree.
“Don’t we need some Christmas music?” Darren said.
“Absolutely.” Joe jumped up from the couch. “I’ll take care of it.”
As Frank Sinatra’s voice wafted through the air, Rachel began to relax. It had been a hard year as Joe and his brother tried to make a go of their sports restaurant. They had named it Joe’s Home Plate, based on Joe’s former career as a professional baseball player.
Their gamble had paid off and, as it did, she’d seen something inside Darren change. Instead of being the neer-do-well brother who always had a hand out to his more successful brother, Darren had found his niche—and that niche was working beside Joe. For the first time since childhood, their relationship was solid, and both of them seemed more content than she’d ever seen.
Now, if only Darren could find a good wife to settle down with! Rachel would welcome having a sister-in-law.
“Thank you for the robe and pajamas, Rachel,” Bobby said, dutifully.
“I imagine there are some toys in there too, buddy,” Rachel said.
“Yay!” Bobby dove beneath the tree for another package.
Later, after all the presents had been opened, and Darren and Joe were helping Bobby set up a train set, Rachel set out Lydia’s Christmas cookies and four mugs of cocoa that she had put on a tray.
“What kind of Christmases did you have when you were little, Rachel?” Darren asked, as he fit two pieces of train track together.
“Traditional; a lot like this, before my mother and father died,” Rachel said. “Mom was Englisch and Dad didn’t mind her making a fuss. In fact, I think he enjoyed it. Everything changed after I went to live with my Amish aunts. No tree, no decorations, no Frank Sinatra. One or two gifts, maybe, after we’d had breakfast. Then later, we’d climb into the buggy and drive to some relative’s house, where there would be more relatives, and more food.”
“Not terribly exciting then?”
“No, but it was cozy and we definitely ate well. That’s one thing you can always count on when you are getting together with Amish people—eating really well.”
“So, what’s the plans for the rest of the day?”
“After we get the train set up, we’ll go over to visit Rachel’s aunts.” Joe chuckled. “Where I think it is safe to assume that we can plan on eating well?”
“Always a safe assumption with Aunt Lydia around,” Rachel said. “We are having brunch there. They are expecting us about ten o’clock.”
“Brunch?” Joe asked. “Your aunts actually used the word ‘brunch’?”
“I know, it doesn’t sound like a word an elderly Amish woman would use, but that’s what Lydia said. I think the idea of ‘brunch’ is starting to catch on in the Amish community. Afterward, I will have to go back to work. I need to help Ed track down the relatives of a Jane Doe we got last night.”
Both Darren and Joe stopped what they were doing, looked at her, and spoke at once. “A Jane Doe?”
“Yes.” Using careful words for Bobby’s sake, she briefly told them about her night.
Joe took the cell phone. He shook his head. “I don’t know her, but what a pitiful photo.”
“I’ve never seen her, either,” Darren said, after he’d studied it. He handed her the cell phone. “I would not want your job, Rachel.”
“Sometimes I’d rather not have my job, either,” she said. “But we have a newborn baby in limbo right now. I need to find some relatives to take her in, and soon.”
Chapter 17
Rachel’s biggest challenge this morning, besides staying awake, was making herself shelve the problem of the mystery baby long enough to enjoy being with her family. She itched to begin working on the case, but that would not be fair to her aunts or to Joe and Bobby.
It was always a struggle not to bring her police work home with her, but her worries about their Jane Doe shouldn’t be anyone else’s problem. Especially not on Christmas day.
As she approached her aunts’ Sugar Haus Inn, she stopped for a moment in front of the door, took a deep breath, mentally tried to erase all concerns, smiled wide and opened the door.
“Boo!” Anna had been hiding beside the door, waiting on her.
Rachel jumped, gasped, and placed her hand on her chest. “Goodness, Anna! You scared me!”
This time, Anna really had succeeded in startling her. Rachel had not been expecting Anna to choose this moment to play her favorite little trick on her.
Anna beamed, thrilled with her success. Quickly, she slammed the door in Joe’s surprised face so she could do it all over again. She opened the door to his knock.
“Boo!”
Joe feigned great surprise, as did Bobby and Darren. This was Anna’s one and only joke and everyone who knew her and saw her delight in it always went along with it.
“Look, Anna!” Bobby said, holding up a new book. “Look what Mommy got me!”
Rachel loved it when Bobby called her Mommy. She hadn’t pressed the issue, and he still wavered. Sometimes she was Rachel, and sometimes she was Mommy. It might be wishful thinking, but she thought the ‘Mommys’ were beginning to outnumber the ‘Rachels.’
She had given Bobby permission to bring one of his gifts with him. The one he chose was perfect to share with Anna. It involved photos of every kind of seashell imaginable. Even though it was not a child’s book, it was so fascinating she knew Bobby would enjoy it.
Bobby and Anna were great friends. Anna immediately went to her favorite spot on the front room couch, and held out her arms. Rachel pulled Bobby’s hat and coat off just in time for him to go barreling over to show Anna his prize.
Yes, Anna and Bobby were great friends—just like Anna and Rachel had been when she was a child. Anna’s gentle, childlike mind made her a favorite with all the young relatives. Her sense of perpetual wonder made sharing small treasures especially gratifying.
Bobby crawled up beside her and they began to marvel over the photos in the book.
“I have this one,” Anna pointed to a picture in the book, excitedly. “And this one.”
“What a good choice you made for your son,” Bertha commented. “So much wiser than those electronic gizmos every Englisch child carries around these days.”
“Thank you, Bertha.” Rachel chose not to mention the fact that Santa had put one of those gizmos under the tree for Bobby as well. In fact, she thought it best not to mention Santa at all. Or the gizmo.
Lydia entered the living room, wiping her hands on her apron. “Brunch is ready.”
“Did your dummkoffs leave?” Rachel asked.
“They did,” Lydia said. “About an hour ago.”
“Dummkoffs?” Bertha asked.
Lydia blushed. “I was not as kind last night as I should have been when Rachel dropped by. I said some ugly things about the guests who left this morning.”
“I think maybe you were overly tired from the cookies you stayed up so late making for them?” Rachel said.
“Probably,” Lydia confessed. “I was very tired.”
“Are you talking about those beautiful cookies our guests refused to take with them this morning because you had not used organic flour?” Bertha asked.
“Yes,” Lydia said. “Those guests.”
“Hmmph! Let us enjoy our morning together and not speak of them again.”
Rachel couldn’t resist. “You mean they were not strangers who were ‘angels unaware’?”
“Nein,” Bertha said. “Definitely not angels. Imagine someone having the nerve not to appreciate Lydia’s cookies when she’d been up half the night baking! Now, we will have our own Christmas and never speak of those Englisch people again.”
Although it was not the Amish way to shower one another with an abundance of gifts at Christmas, Rachel and Anna had a tradition. She gave Anna a gift of scented bubble bath every year. Anna, in turn, gave Rachel a carefully selected box of scented bath salts. They had done this for years. Anna happily used up her bubble bath ever year. Rachel, on the other hand, rarely took the time to luxuriate in a tub. She much preferred a quick shower, which caused her bath salts to generally go unused. Down through the years, she had amassed quite a collection. Throwing them or giving them away was inconceivable because Anna had gone to great pains to select just the right one each year, which made them precious to her. And so, an abundance of bath salts had become part of the décor of her bathroom.
To Bertha and Lydia, she gave a subscription to Mary Jane’s Farm, which was a relatively new magazine that some of her younger Amish friends were beginning to discover. It was packed with gardening, crafts, and cooking advice.
Darren gave the aunts some flower seeds; a gift Rachel had suggested. The aunts had bought one present only, but it was meant for the whole family. It was a new sled for Bobby that he was expected to share.
And that was all that was exchanged. A new sled for their family. Some bath salts, flower seeds, and a magazine subscription.
Many Englisch would consider such a Christmas to be Spartan in the extreme. But Rachel and her aunts were well-satisfied, as was Bobby who immediately went sleigh riding with his dad and uncle the minute the last gift was opened.
The Amish, as a people, were not against the giving of gifts. In fact, Rachel’s aunts were such giving people, it sometimes seemed that they were forever making or giving her something throughout the entire year. Some gifts were small, but some were large.
For instance, Rachel and Joe’s bed was resplendent in a wedding-ring quilt that Bertha and Lydia had pieced and quilted over one long winter. Since Joe preferred a king-sized bed, this had been a huge undertaking. Rachel seldom visited her aunts without walking away with a sack of windfall apples from the small orchard in their backyard, or a loaf of Lydia’s bread, or some small treasure Anna decided Rachel desperately needed.
Anna’s gifts tended toward pretty rocks, brightly-colored bird feathers, and bouquets of wild flowers. Of course, Anna, herself, was gift enough. Her love for everyone she came into contact with permeated the Sugar Haus Inn. Aunt Bertha’s gifts tended to be in the nature of wisdom and advice.
When Joe, Darren, and Bobby went to try out the sled, Anna wanted to be part of the outdoor fun too, so Rachel helped her put on her heavier coat, made certain she had a warm head covering, woolen scarf, boots, and gloves before she went out.
By the time Rachel came back to the kitchen, the table had already been cleared, and the sink readied for dish washing with hot, soapy water and clean drying cloths laid out and ready.
“You are not yourself this morning,” Bertha said. “Although I cannot decide if it is worry or simply fatigue.”
“It’s a little of both,” Rachel said. “Last night was tough.�
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“Then tell us what happened after you left us last night,” Bertha said. “Lydia was afraid that the police radio squawking meant trouble. We will talk while you help me wash dishes and you will tell me all about it.” She pointed toward the chair they kept in the kitchen. “Lydia, you sit down. You’ve done enough this morning.”
“Danke,” Lydia said. “It will be good to give my feet a rest.”
With Bobby safely out of earshot, Rachel plunged her hands into the hot water and told Bertha and Lydia about the wreck, the baby, and Keturah Hochstetler’s part in it all while she washed dishes. Bertha listened while she dried and put the dishes back into the cupboards. Lydia, whose hands were rarely still even when she was supposed to be resting, was working on some knitting.
“Keturah is a strong one,” Bertha said, with great admiration when Rachel had finished the story. “That was not an easy thing for her to do. No one could better care for the babe than Keturah and her daughter-in-law.”
“Yes, but unless we find the family soon, I’m afraid the baby will have to be put in foster care anyway.”
“Foster care is not a good place?” Lydia inquired.
“Sometimes it is, but not always,” Rachel admitted.
“Ach, then. It is an easy decision,” Lydia said. “Leave the babe with the Hochstetlers for now. She will be loved and fed and well taken care of. No one loves a baby more than Keturah.”
“It won’t be legal to leave her there for long. Social services will need to get involved.”
“Then you need to find that family and soon,” Bertha said, as though that was the end of the conversation.
“It might not be easy,” Rachel said. “And there might not be any family member able or willing to take the baby.”
“Then I will pray about it.” Bertha gave a quick nod as a punctuation to the statement. “And God will sort it out.”
Chapter 18
Love Rekindled: Book 3 Page 8
