A Plain & Fancy Christmas

by Cynthia Keller

  “Would you sit with us?” Rachel realized having her sister there would be good for moral support. Besides, Sarah was the other person with whom she was most anxious to discuss this. “I want to tell everybody something.”

  Sarah nodded, filling the kettle with water and turning on the stove’s propane gas–powered burner. She stood there, waiting for the water to heat up as Rachel began to speak.

  She tried to lay out the whole series of events without leaving anything out. When she got to the part about the doctor’s error back at the hospital, Leah King put her sewing down on the kitchen table and folded her hands in her lap. She sat, listening, her face expressionless. Isaac King tilted his head, as if trying to take in every word, but avoided looking at his daughter. Sarah said nothing, but made her cup of tea and brought it to the table, where she sat sipping the hot liquid, her eyes locked on her sister. At the mention of Ellie having been right outside the house, Sarah started. Isaac King put his elbows on the table and rested his head in his hands. Rachel described how much she resembled the other King siblings. Leah rose and went over to the sink, pretending to be washing something that was already clean, apparently needing an excuse to turn her back to them. Rachel saw all this, but forced herself to go on. When she finally explained that Ellie wanted to come to the farm to meet all of them, Leah whirled around to face them again, unable to hide her shock. No one spoke.

  Sarah broke the silence first. “Is this person really part of our family?”

  Rachel bit her lip. “She’s your sister. I’m the one who’s not really related, not by blood.”

  Isaac shook his head. “No, Rachel,” he said fiercely. “You are ours. You are Amish. You’ve been baptized. This is your life and we are your people, forever.”

  Rachel looked at her mother, standing by the sink. She hadn’t spoken or moved. “Are you all right?”

  Leah seemed confused. “This girl, this woman … You are saying she’s our child. But she’s English, not Amish. She lives in New York City. No husband, no children. She works at a job to take care of herself and lives alone.” She frowned. “How can we hope to know this person as our child?”

  “If this is true,” Isaac said, “she is also our child whether we know her that way or not.”

  Anger flashed in Leah’s eyes. “I knew it was a mistake to go to the hospital.” She glared at Rachel. “You were the only one not born at home. Look what they did!”

  Rachel recoiled at the outburst. Her mother quickly collected herself.

  “I didn’t mean that. I shouldn’t say such a terrible thing.” She put her hands over her face, distraught.

  Isaac went over to stand next to his wife, as if to transfer strength to her, but he addressed his words to Rachel. “You are our daughter.” There was pain in his eyes.

  Sarah reached across the table to take her sister’s hand. “We are all united in one family. We live our lives by our faith and in the best way we know how. Nothing can change that.”

  Rachel was filled with gratitude. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  She glanced over at her mother and was stunned to see tears rolling down her cheeks. Rachel couldn’t remember ever seeing her mother cry. She was afraid to ask if she was upset because she had been given the wrong child instead of the one who was truly hers, the one who might have brought her far more happiness over the years. Leah, seemingly unable to bear any more, left the room. Her husband went after her.

  Rachel turned to her sister. “Did you see that?”

  “She was crying! I can’t believe it.”

  “What will happen now?”

  Sarah opened her mouth to speak but seemed to be at a loss for words. “Oh, Rachel,” she said at last, “I don’t know. I guess this woman from New York will come here.”

  “What about Katie? What do I tell her? She’s not actually related to anyone else here.”

  Sarah’s eyes widened at the reminder of her niece. “No! It’s not possible!”

  “Think about it. If I’m really this Rachel Lawrence, then Katie is related to them, too. Not to this family at all.”

  Sarah shook her head. “This is too much to understand right now.” She stood up. “We should go to sleep now and talk it over in the morning.”

  “No,” Rachel burst out, “we’re not going to understand it any better in the morning. I’ve been trying to understand it for weeks, and I still don’t.” Stunned by her own vehemence, Rachel took a deep breath.

  Sarah, anguish on her face, put her arm around Rachel’s shoulders. “It will all work out. Things always do, right?”

  “Yes, of course,” Rachel murmured. She did her best to smile as Sarah headed for the doorway leading back to her house.

  The next morning, Rachel went with Katie to help her in the chicken pen, collecting eggs and feeding the chickens. The sense of dread she had felt upon first learning the name Rachel Lawrence had returned in full force. The familiarity of the noisy pen, chickens clucking and running around their legs, was soothing. She wanted to treasure each moment of her life before it was permanently altered by the arrival of this woman, Ellie.

  Katie clucked back in amusement at the chickens as she tossed out the feed. While she checked the birds’ water supply, Rachel watched Katie, the side sections of her blond hair tightly twisted in the traditional Amish style and all of it neatly hidden beneath her white kapp. Her hazel eyes were bright. The little girl caught her mother’s gaze and smiled. It had been such a long road back from Jacob’s death, Rachel thought. She could only pray this new situation wouldn’t be too much for Katie to bear.

  Impulsively Rachel put her arm around Katie. “There’s nothing like family. You love them, and they love you, always.”

  Katie looked at her questioningly. “Well, of course. How could they not love you?”

  “They do, yes, absolutely. Always.”

  Katie made a face to express how odd she found her mother’s remarks. But Rachel wasn’t looking at her. She was just hoping that what she said would turn out to be true.

  Chapter 9

  Ellie was so nervous, she felt like she was about to jump out of her skin. In the brief note she had received the week before, the Kings had invited her to come at noon. The note was handwritten by the mother—her mother, she corrected herself—on a piece of plain white stationery, suggesting she join them for dinner this Saturday at twelve o’clock. It was signed “Sincerely, Leah King.” Ellie wasn’t sure what to make of the formality, or the fact that the woman made no reference to the circumstances of such a meeting. But she would be there, and at noon on the dot.

  She thought carefully about what to wear and decided that overdressing would be weird and underdressing would be insulting. She settled on navy pants and flats, and a pale pink blouse.

  At last it was time to leave. For this trip, she chose a black rental car, more sedate than the previous red one. She recalled driving these roads the last time, almost in a daze, not knowing what she would find or if she was sure she even wanted to find anything, but compelled to continue. Today, she felt only panic, plus her usual stomachache in one of its stronger phases. Even though she was the one who had pressed for this meeting, she wondered if she would live to regret it. She might hate this family, or—and this could well be much worse—love them so much she would be embittered by what she had missed. Her mind raced, considering the various reactions she could have to them, or they might have to her. Each scenario was grimmer than the last.

  At eleven-forty, she pulled off the road in front of the Kings’ farm. She glanced in the rearview mirror to be sure she was presentable. Her palms were damp, her mouth dry. She took a quick swig of water from the bottle she had stashed in her bag. As she capped and set it in the cup holder, she looked up to see Rachel King come out of the house. She must have been watching from behind one of the green window shades. Perhaps she was nervous as well. That possibility had never occurred to Ellie.

  She turned the car onto the driveway, which led to an ope
n space toward the right of the house. Her fearful anticipation grew almost unbearable as she got closer. She could see behind the house to make out what was probably a stable, plus an enormous barn and large fields of crops in the distance. Rachel King stood on the porch, dressed just as Ellie had seen her that first time, in a simple, midcalf-length dark dress and an apron, with her hair beneath a white head covering with untied strings hanging down. She had no expression on her face. Ellie forced herself to smile as she reached for the door handle.

  Deep breath, she told herself, as she stepped outside.

  “The other Rachel,” Ellie said, coming toward the porch steps. She smiled again.

  “You are Ellie. We’re expecting you.” She stuck out her hand.

  Ellie heard the faintest lilt of a slight accent, but nothing in her words or expression could be interpreted as welcoming.

  Sticking out her hand in return, she received a quick, firm handshake. “Thank you for having me. I know this is an odd situation.” She gave an awkward laugh. “That doesn’t begin to describe it, really.”

  Rachel’s small smile was forced. “This is what you wanted.”

  Ellie tried to hide her surprise at how sharply she spoke the words.

  “Please come in.” Rachel held open the screen door. “Our parents are waiting.”

  Our parents. Apparently, she had come to her own terms with this mess, and chosen the approach she would take. It was a good one, Ellie realized, reasonable and workable. She hadn’t ever considered it that way.

  She followed Rachel into a large room, painted pale blue and lit by the sunshine of the June day. There they were. Her real parents. A man seated at a large table set up for lunch, a woman stirring one of several pots sending up steam on the stove. He got to his feet as soon as Ellie entered the room, and she could see he wore black pants with suspenders and a dark green shirt. The woman, wearing glasses, her face scrubbed clean and devoid of makeup, was dressed in an outfit nearly identical to Rachel’s, a full black apron over a long, plain, burgundy-colored dress, her light brown hair hidden under a white cap. She stared at Ellie. Then, she murmured something in another language, and put down the spoon she was using, coming toward her. She took both of Ellie’s hands in her strong ones and stared into her eyes as if drinking in the sight, saying nothing.

  Ellie felt herself getting lost in that stare. She recognized this woman. Not as someone she had seen before, but as someone deeply connected to her. Was it possible to recognize your mother if you had never met? She didn’t believe that. Maybe it was the familiarity of seeing her own skin coloring and eye shade, her nose and her lips on someone else. It was as if she were looking at a picture of herself that had been aged by computer.

  The woman’s face broke into an enormous smile. “You are Ellie.”

  The same words Rachel had used outside, but a different world of meaning in them this time. Wonder and warmth.

  She turned to her husband. “Isaac, it is our Rachel.”

  He joined them, his smile genuine if not quite as wide. It dawned on her that these people might have their own mixed feelings about opening up this Pandora’s box.

  She took in his beard, the lack of mustache, and the bangs across his forehead. This odd-looking man is my father, she thought in amazement.

  “Welcome, child,” Isaac said. “Come and sit down.”

  She followed him and Rachel to two large chairs near a sofa, where they sat as Leah King hurried to the stove to turn off burners and give a final stir to her food before joining them. No one said anything, and Ellie was unsure if she should speak first. The huge room, she saw, was simple, only a calendar and a clock on the wall, as well as a framed document of some sort, done in calligraphy. The windows let in daylight, but it was still too dim for Ellie’s taste. Shelves in one corner revealed neatly arranged books and games. Several hooks by the front door held straw hats with black bands, plus a black bonnet, and over the doorway, she saw a painting of a farm that appeared to be done on the extra-long blade of a saw. A wall extended partway into the room to divide the kitchen from the living room area where they sat. Everything was spotless. She took it all in, from the unsophisticated furniture to the bucolic scene of the saw painting. It didn’t seem possible for her to feel any more out of place than she did at that moment. She noted with some apprehension that the kitchen table was set for a huge group.

  She actually felt a childlike urge to squirm with discomfort as she felt all eyes upon her. “I’m sorry I’m a little early,” she began.

  Leah sat down beside her and waved her hand dismissively. “We are glad you are here. It was a long drive?”

  “Less than four hours.”

  “And you make that trip whenever you want.” Rachel’s tone was cold.

  Ellie looked at her in annoyance. “The road travels in both directions. You could make it whenever you want, too.”

  Another silence.

  “So,” Leah said, “this is a big shock for everyone, no? The hospital and that doctor did the biggest mistake they could do. And here we are.”

  Ellie noted that Rachel looked at her mother in surprise, as if she hadn’t expected her to get right down to it. For her part, Ellie was grateful to Leah for breaking the ice. She turned to her.

  “I didn’t know what to do when I found out. But once I was sure the story was true, I had to find you. Thank you for agreeing to see me.”

  “Of course we would agree,” Isaac said. “We—”

  He was interrupted by the arrival of a young girl, around ten or eleven, Ellie guessed. She recognized her at once as the girl who had been pushing the younger children on the swings outside the day she had first driven here.

  The girl stopped short when she saw they were seated with a guest, and waited, as if for instructions.

  “Katie,” Rachel said, her tone softer than Ellie had yet heard it. “Come here.” She waited until Katie had approached. “This is our guest, Ellie Lawrence. She is a friend of Grandma and Grandpa’s. Ellie, this is my daughter, Katie Yoder.”

  Her daughter. Ellie struggled not to stare. “It’s very nice to meet you, Katie,” she managed to get out. From Rachel’s description of Ellie as a family friend, it was obvious the girl hadn’t been told anything.

  “Nice to meet you, too.” She looked directly into Ellie’s eyes, her gaze expectant and open. Ellie was struck by what seemed like a sense of innocence combined with maturity.

  The little girl turned to her grandmother. “Should I put out the food yet?”

  Leah stood. “Yes, it is time for dinner. The others will be here soon.” As she moved toward the stove once more, she turned to Ellie. “Rachel’s sisters and brothers will be here, too.”

  Ellie surmised that Katie might not have been told the truth, but the other family adults had been, and they would all be there to look her over. That’s not fair, she reprimanded herself; maybe they were coming to welcome her. She wished she didn’t feel so uncomfortable. This visit wasn’t going at all the way she hoped. It was like swimming through molasses, trying to guess everybody’s feelings and intentions.

  Suddenly, it seemed, the room was full of people, men and women approaching to be introduced. It was difficult to keep them all straight. Rachel had two younger sisters, and Ellie got those two names down first, Sarah and Laura. There was a brother, Judah, a tall, broad-shouldered man with a beard but, like Isaac, no mustache. He had glasses and an open smile, and looked to be between thirty and thirty-five. There was another brother who seemed much younger than Rachel, but whose name she forgot, along with those of the various spouses. Lastly, Rachel’s grandparents came in. They moved slowly, and looked as if they had led lives of hard work, but not unhappy ones. Ellie wondered where Rachel’s husband was; she expected to see him among the family members. Perhaps he was away, or they were divorced. No one mentioned him, and she decided it was probably wiser to follow their lead.

  Everyone offered words of welcome that were polite, but their faces remaine
d impossible to read. The group assembled around the table, men on one side, women on the other. Ellie was vastly relieved that she noticed the arrangement before plopping herself down on the wrong side. She caught sight of Rachel’s youngest brother looking at her from across the table with outright curiosity, but a broad smile. Grateful, she smiled back at him. Daniel, she remembered, this one was Daniel. That should be easy to remember. He was the only man without a beard, and without a wife. And, she thought, startled by the idea, he looks a lot like me.

  There was a silent prayer before the meal started. Ellie sat, motionless, confused about what was expected of her, and hoping she wouldn’t commit some horrible faux pas. All the women plus Katie started bringing what seemed like countless platters and bowls of food to the table. Ellie was afraid to offend her hosts by refusing what was offered to her, so she filled her plate with a little bit of everything: pot roast, macaroni and cheese, beets, potato salad, and asparagus. For dessert, she accepted chocolate pudding, ginger cookies, pineapple upside-down cake, and apple fritters, which she recognized as such only when someone offered them by name. She took the smallest bites she felt she could politely get away with, thinking that she normally didn’t eat this much food in a week, much less one meal. Not to mention, she said to herself, that this meal was a cholesterol festival. The others had no trouble finishing whatever they took, most of the men having additional portions.

  The conversation was limited. Only Leah King seemed animated, her eyes sparkling, as she chatted about the farm, and the milk and food crops they sold. It was apparent to Ellie that she was trying to relay information without alerting little Katie to the fact that something odd was going on. Ellie wished she could stare at each person at the table in turn, maybe learn something about them. Of course, that was impossible. Besides, she knew she was the one under their scrutiny that day.

  When Isaac King asked about Ellie’s family in New York, there was total quiet in the room as she explained that her father was a surgeon, and her mother did a lot of charity work. She described Nick and A.J. as well. She could see them all running this information through their minds, assessing it and then probably attempting to connect their Rachel to these people. Ellie added that her parents were extremely anxious to meet Rachel, and hoped she would come to New York as soon as she felt ready. No one commented. Ellie wanted to kick herself for adding that; this wasn’t the time to bring it up, nor should she have mentioned it in front of the whole family. She quickly changed the topic by describing the neighborhood where she lived, which led to a brief explanation of her public relations job.