A Simple Charity

by Rosalind Lauer

  “Why do you always say the same thing, Tommy?”

  “Because that’s what babies do when they’re learning to talk.” Fanny pressed a kiss onto his chubby cheek. Not even a year old yet and this one was babbling all the time. Fanny knew that the “Da” syllable was one of the first things most babies said, but she knew if Thomas were here they would joke that the boy was already asking for his dat.

  This would be their first Christmas without Tom, and so far every tradition, large and small, had brought him to mind and heart. After Thanksgiving dinner, when they had put all the adults’ names into a hat to pick for the gift exchange, she had wanted to put Thomas’s name in. When she and Elsie had wound some pine greens and cones into a swag, she had wished Thomas was there to hang it in the front room. When Will practiced his lines for the Christmas program, over and over again, oh, how Tom would have enjoyed hearing it! The boy was not built for memorization, and Teacher Emma wanted him to say the lines exactly as they were written.

  She could imagine her husband’s amusement over that. Thomas would joke that rambunctious Will had met his match in Teacher Emma, and Fanny would have to hide a smile so as not to rile Emma and Will.

  How she wished Thomas could have been there to be a part of their lives. But Gott had other plans for her good husband, and she was beginning to accept it all: the cold, empty spot in their bed, the need to step up and make decisions for this household. This was no mistake; she was right where Gott wanted her to be, and lately He had granted her the grace to see that.

  And the wisps of longing for Tom did not make Fanny blind to her many blessings. She had six children, a roof over her head, a side business that was about to open up, and some new friends in Anna and Zed. There was much to be grateful for.

  Two casserole dishes sat atop the stove—one for tonight’s dinner and one to take over to Anna, who was still using a walker and was unable to make the trip to Ohio for the holidays. Fanny knew they had best get the dish over to Anna before the day got away from them.

  On the way to hitch up the buggy, she stopped in at the carriage house, where Zed was working on the stairs. A box of new laminate flooring was open, and Zed was piecing together panels with a shiny, dark finish.

  “Looks like real wood,” Fanny said with an approving nod. She knew it was easier to install and clean than hardwood floors. Cheaper, too. Tommy leaned out of her arms and reached for the piece of flooring, and Zed held it steady, letting the baby boy inspect it.

  When Tommy grasped the edge and pulled it toward his mouth, Zed took it away with a grin.

  Zed held up two grooved boards. “See how they snap together like puzzle pieces? With the way these panels fit together, it will only take me a day or two to finish the stairs.”

  “That’s good progress. At this rate, we might be open by the first of the year.”

  “Though unfinished stairs are not going to stop anyone from coming in if she needs your help,” Zed said. “I’ve learned that.”

  “Sometimes Gott has surprises in store for us all,” Fanny said as she surveyed the welcoming new space. Last month, with so many young couples getting married, her eyes had been opened to the path that Gott had been leading her along. So many weddings! And within the year, there would be many, many pregnant women needing help delivering their babies. Large families were the Amish way of life, and often when you looked around at church or other gatherings, there were babies, babies everywhere. She smiled. This center couldn’t open soon enough.

  She told Zed that she was off to visit Anna, and he assured her that he would keep Will busy if he got home from school before Fanny returned. The center was Will’s usual place to go after school. Zed had the boy working on a project—a secret that brought a delighted smile to her son’s face. Fanny didn’t know what it was, but she enjoyed watching the bond grow between Will and Zed, who seemed to enjoy having the boy around while he worked.

  Anna’s door was answered by Susie King, a bright-eyed teen with the agility and energy of a chipmunk. When Fanny had heard Susie would be working for Anna while she recovered, she had thought the cheerful girl a good complement to Anna’s no-nonsense personality.

  “Come in, before you catch cold.” Susie motioned them in and quickly closed the door behind them. “It was only twenty degrees when I left my house this morning. I was shivering! But Remy set some warming bricks in the buggy to take the chill off.”

  “It’s warmed up a bit, but I think we’re due for some light snow.” Fanny set Tommy on the floor. He toppled over on his side, weighed down by his bulky snowsuit, but rolled onto his belly so that he could peer up at them like a turtle peeking from its shell.

  Susie took the casserole dish from Beth. “And what is this?”

  “Yummasetti,” Beth answered. “Still warm from the oven. It’s for Anna’s dinner.”

  “Smells delicious,” Susie said, straightening.

  “Put the dish on the oven,” Anna called from across the room where her leg was propped up on a stool. “That’ll keep it warm.”

  “You can make a few meals out of this, Anna. Oh, it’s making my mouth water!” Susie carried it into the kitchen, following Anna’s instruction.

  “And how are you doing, Anna?” Keeping one eye on her little crawler, Fanny took a seat in the rocking chair beside the elderly woman. “How’s the leg feeling?”

  “Stronger every day, though I don’t have the pep that I once had. The thought of taking a horse and buggy all over the district to deliver a baby makes me weary. It’s a good thing you’ve got your clinic ready to go. You’re ten minutes by horse and buggy. In good weather, I could even walk or take a scooter.”

  The thought of dear old Anna riding a scooter warmed Fanny’s heart; the woman was a dedicated midwife.

  “Do you need anything from the bulk store?” Fanny asked. “I’m planning to go tomorrow.”

  “The pantry is full, thanks to a sunshine box that was delivered yesterday.” When Amish folks were sick or injured, a sunshine box was usually set next to the checkout in the store. As folks paid for their purchases, they added donations of flour, peanut butter, or coffee for the party in need. “Susie just finished unloading everything.” Anna patted the arms of her chair. “So much generosity in our community. I never thought I’d be needing charity, but here I am, grateful for the help.”

  “It must help in your recovery to know that groceries and housework are all taken care of.”

  “That it does.”

  Beth dropped to her knees beside a low table containing a Nativity scene. “Aw. A little lamb.”

  “Don’t touch,” Fanny warned. Beth loved to play with the statues in the crèche, lining the characters up like ants marching to the manger under the star.

  “It’s all right,” Anna said. “Just be gentle.”

  “I will.” Beth picked up the baby sheep and set it outside the manger scene. “I’m lost, and I don’t know where to go,” she whimpered. Then she picked up a wise man and set him down facing the lamb. “Just follow the star,” she said.

  Anna shot Fanny a look of amusement, and Fanny nodded. “Beth enjoys playing with the manger scene, more than any of her dollies. The story of the Savior’s birth always fascinates the children.”

  “It fascinates young and old alike,” Anna assured her. “How’s young Will doing at school?”

  “He’s getting on better. We hear him practicing for the Christmas program at night.”

  “He’s a little candle,” Beth added. “And he says, Oh, no! I’m too small. And then he blows out his candle.”

  “Something like that,” Fanny said, leaning forward to pick up Tommy. “Teacher Emma wants Will to memorize the lines exactly because they rhyme, but he has trouble getting it right.”

  “The poem about the little candles?” Tenderness softened Anna’s craggy face as she gazed down at Beth and Tommy, who was crawling up beside his sister. “I remember that one from when my children went to school. How does it go? ‘Ten litt
le candles, Jesus bade them shine, but selfishness snuffed one out and then there were nine.’ ”

  Beth’s eyes opened wide in amazement. “That’s it! That’s the one.”

  “It’s surprising what sticks in the memory and what time washes away,” Anna said. “It’s a very good story. Do you know what happens in the poem?”

  Beth’s lips were pursed as she gazed up at Anna and shook her head.

  “There are ten candles, and each one makes the mistake of turning away from Gott’s love. And when that happens, the candle’s flame goes out. So one by one, the candles are blown out.”

  “And then what happens?” Beth asked.

  “The last little candle is brave. He keeps his light shining, and his good example spreads to the other children. So at the very end, they share his light, and all ten candles are lit again.”

  Susie came in with two mugs of tea. “Oh, ten little candles? That was one of my favorite parts of the Christmas program. My brother Simon is a candle this year. He used to dread the Christmas program, he was so quiet. But now he’s got lots to say. Adam said it’s as if someone pulled the plug on the tub.”

  “How wonderful for Simon,” Fanny said as Susie set down her cup of tea. It was good to know that the members of the King family were thriving after what they had been through.

  “He’s a good boy,” Anna agreed, accepting one of the mugs. “I remember when he was born.” She tapped her chin, giving Susie an assessing look. “Actually, I was midwife when you and your sister were born. Twins! That can be tricky.”

  Obviously at a loss for words, Susie gave a shrug and a wan smile.

  Fanny thought it best to change the subject. “Everyone is looking forward to the school program. It really brings out the meaning of Christmas.”

  “It helps build confidence when children recite prayers and poems,” Anna said. “But not every child excels in school, and it’s good that Zed is teaching Will how to do repairs. A young man should know how to use a hammer and saw.”

  “Will is learning a lot, and he sticks to Zed like glue. You should see the way he follows him around.” Fanny rose from her chair to fetch her son away from the manger scene, but Susie dropped down to her knees and said she would watch Tommy.

  While Susie sat between Tommy and Beth, entertaining them with stories about the animals in the manger, the older women had a chance to talk quietly. Fanny invited Anna to join her family for second Christmas. “Many folks are stopping in on the twenty-sixth. Some of the new parents are bringing the babies. Why don’t you join us? Caleb will come ’round in a buggy to pick you up.”

  Anna lowered her mug, explaining that she had already accepted an invitation to join Bishop Samuel and his family for second Christmas. “But I’m grateful, Fanny. You’ve taken on quite a lot of work while I’ve been down with this injury, and you’ve gone out of your way to watch over me. I just got a letter from my daughter, and she says she can rest easy knowing that I’m being well taken care of.”

  Fanny brought the mug to her lips to hide the beam of pleasure that warmed her. A tender bond had been woven between them, but it wasn’t something most Plain folk put to words. “We must keep you on the mend. The women of our community need you.”

  “And you. You’re a capable midwife. What would you say if I told you I’m thinking about retiring?”

  “No.” Fanny’s jaw dropped. “You can’t go, Anna. Women need someone with your experience, and I still have a lot to learn. Besides …” She lowered her mug. “I was looking forward to the two of us working together. The fun’s just beginning.”

  “I’m not going anywhere right now.” Anna shifted, scowling down at her heavy cast. “I can’t get far with a heavy weight like that on my leg.”

  The matter was too important to let it dwindle away in a joke. “Please, don’t leave Halfway now, Anna. There’ve been so many changes in the past year, my head is still spinning. I can’t imagine trying to open the birthing center without you.”

  “Changes can shake us up, but sometimes for the better.” Anna reached over and patted Fanny’s hand, an unusual show of affection for the older woman, but a treasured one. “Just when the caterpillar thought the world was over, it became a butterfly.”

  Although they were interrupted by the children, Anna’s words echoed in Fanny’s mind, like a call through the hills.

  Excitement and snowflakes swirled in the cold night air as carriages arrived at the one-room schoolhouse. For Fanny, the Christmas program at school was one of the highlights of the season, and this year her hopes were high since Will was participating for the first time under the guidance of his sister and teacher, Emma. Will had been subdued during the ride, understandably nervous about getting his part right. Although Elsie and Caleb had tried to distract him by singing some Christmas carols, Will kept peeking out the side of the carriage. The merry songs did amuse Tommy and Beth, who tried to sing along.

  “So you’ll watch for me, Mamm?” Will asked Fanny, his brown eyes opened wide. “Remember, I’m one of the little candles.”

  “I’ll be watching and listening, too,” Fanny assured him, patting his shoulder. She longed to bend down and fold his lanky body against her in a hug, but she knew that would be a mistake here, with other parents and classmates watching. Such displays of affection were best kept in the home, anyway.

  Will skipped ahead, climbing onto the schoolhouse porch amid a rush of parents and children.

  The sight of families flowing into the schoolhouse filled Fanny with joy. Adam King corralled Simon, Ruthie, and little Katie inside, and Remy was right behind him, their petite baby Essie bundled in a blanket and knitted pink cap. Fanny called a merry Christmas to Thomas’s cousin Edna, who was watching her son James make the step onto the porch.

  Such a wonder, to see James walking. He quickly adjusted his crutches and strolled into the school smoothly, followed by his wife, Rachel.

  “Gott is healing him,” Fanny said quietly.

  Edna patted Fanny’s shoulder and nodded. “Gott is great.” Gentle Edna was so easy to talk to, but somehow they rarely found the time. An Amish woman’s life was chock-full of chores and children, cleaning and cooking. When the growing season ended, it was time for canning. When the garden produce was put up, it was time for holiday baking. One season rolled into the next in an age-old rhythm, sure and steady as the sun rising in the east.

  Inside the big room, conversation popped and crackled like a roaring fire. A few Englishers were sprinkled through the crowd. Two of them were Fanny’s invited guests.

  “Hey, there!” Zoey Jordan waved from a bulletin board that showed a big tree with a student’s name on each leaf. With her wild blond curls and bold red coat, Zoey was easy to spot. She seemed to stand out in any group, and yet Fanny had developed a fondness for her neighbor and for her sister. All Zoey’s color and fluff was simply the frosting—the outward trimmings on a person who made the folks around her smile and feel good about themselves. Meg’s gifts were heavier—more substantial—but just as welcome. In a world where many danced around the truth, it seemed to dwell within Meg, steady and burning.

  Fanny sidled around a group of children to greet them. “I’m so glad you came.”

  “Are you kidding? We’re thrilled to be here. I’ve never been in a one-room schoolhouse before, and I told Will I’d be watching for him.” Zoey paused to wiggle her fingers at Elsie and Beth. “Hello, there, ladies.”

  “This is quite a turnout,” Meg said, glancing around the room, which was quickly filling with people.

  “It’s a big night for families with children. The Christmas program comes but once a year.” She motioned the English women over toward an empty bench. “We’d best find our seats before it’s too late.”

  As the women sat down beside Elsie and Beth, Zoey asked how Emma was doing. “Just last month, we attended Emma’s wedding,” Zoey explained to her sister. “Our first Amish wedding, and it was quite a festive day. You wouldn’t believe the ar
ray of food, and the cookies and cakes? Delish.” Zoey scanned the room, and then pointed Emma King out to Meg. “Emma is the schoolteacher,” she explained. “Fanny’s oldest daughter.”

  Fanny smiled as she watched dear Emma walk up and down the line of pupils, who were far more quiet and organized than the family members settling into seats. With her open smile and watchful eyes, Emma was the perfect teacher. So many little eyes stared up at her with respect and admiration. Fanny felt a flush of pleasure, just observing her daughter at work. Well, Tom’s daughter. Though she’d been mothering Emma for so long, a person would be hard-pressed to tell the difference. Fanny missed having Emma around the house, but she and Gabe had made their home in a small outbuilding on the King farm that had been converted to a living space. Gabe said they’d be moving to a real house as soon as they saved the money. Those two were hard workers, so Fanny reckoned they’d be moving to a house in no time.

  The program got started when Davey King stepped forward. He was Will’s age, only six, a small, nimble boy with a freckled nose and two teeth missing in the front. But, oh, what a booming voice he had!

  “I may be small and very young, but I can still be heard. I’ll raise my voice to welcome you and shout out every word. Merry Christmas!”

  Laughter rippled through the room as Davey stepped back, and then the entire group began to sing “Joy to the World.” Fanny bounced Tommy on her knee in time to the song, as Will caught her eye. He looked so nervous. She gave him a firm smile of support.

  His lips were a stern line as he looked away, off to her right. Then, his brows rose as he spotted something. Or someone.

  Curious, Fanny turned to follow Will’s gaze.

  A few yards away, Zed sat with his arms folded, his steady dark eyes on Will. How wonderful good of him to come! She had wanted him here, but thought that folks might start talking if she invited him as her guest. Perhaps Will had asked him, and Zed had wisely brought his mother, Rose, who had a way of smoothing out the social creases.

  Next came a little play about sweet honeybees, and all the positive things folks could “bee.” Seven children each had a picture that showed a bee and a word. Ruthie King said that a person must be generous. Hannah Lapp said that folks should be charitable. Be reverent, be kind, be unselfish—all such good messages for young and old alike. The last little bee brought it all back to the meaning of Christmas when he talked about being appreciative of God’s love and the Savior born on Christmas Day, and then the little bees buzzed back to the larger group of students.