An Amish Second Christmas

by Beth Wiseman

  Gideon started talking to her in Deitsch, but Katherine interrupted him. “Nee, when you’re at home, talk to me in Englisch.” It was Gideon’s first year of school, so he’d just started learning Englisch as a second language. “It’s gut practice for you.”

  “Daed is in a box in the dirt. I saw him put there.” Her son pointed to his large drawing on the wall. An outsider might not have recognized it as a coffin in the middle of a bunch of stick people, but Katherine did.

  “Nee.” She leaned forward until she was close enough to gently grasp Gideon’s chin, lifting his eyes to hers. “Daed is in heaven with God and Jesus and your mammi and daadi.” Why was Gideon so fixated on thinking his daed was in the ground? From an early age, all of her kinner had been schooled about the Lord and taught the ways of the Ordnung. “Only Daed’s body was buried. Daed’s soul went to heaven.”

  For the hundredth time, Katherine tried to explain this to her son, frustrated that the other children had accepted this as truth by the time they were Gideon’s age. But maybe it had been easier for the others because they didn’t have to apply it to the death of their own father.

  “Mom!”

  Katherine stood up and got to the bedroom door just as Linda blew into the room carrying a box wrapped in silver paper with a purple bow. Her face was red and her teeth chattered.

  “You don’t have to yell.” She touched her daughter’s icy cheek. “Were you outside?” She nodded to the box. “And what’s that?”

  “I saw a man in the driveway. By the time I got outside, he was in his car driving away.”

  Katherine rushed to the window in time to see a blue car going down the road. She rested a hand on her chest.

  Linda joined her at the window. “This was on the rocking chair on the front porch.” She handed the box to Katherine and smiled. “It has your name written on it.” Her daughter bounced up on her toes. “Your first Christmas present!”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Mary Carol didn’t think she’d ever get tired of kissing Abraham Fisher. She just wished that she didn’t feel so guilty about it. Everyone in her house—except maybe Linda—was still mourning the loss of their father. Mary Carol heard her mother crying softly in her room sometimes. Stephen wouldn’t say much to anyone. And Gideon had taken to drawing all over the walls, something he’d never done before. Mary Carol missed her father so much it hurt, but she was trying to give herself permission to find happiness again. And she was doing that with Abe. She’d known him all her life, but they’d only been dating for a few months. He’d just recently gotten baptized, something she hoped was the first step in what would lead to a marriage proposal.

  Abe kissed her again, then pulled away. “I can tell you’re distracted.”

  “What?” Mary Carol twisted the tie of her kapp between her fingers and tried to still her chattering teeth. Now that she was in her rumschpringe, they were spending more time together, but this was the first time they’d come to the abandoned farmhouse off Black Horse Road. Mary Carol was afraid the structure might collapse on them, but it was much too cold to sit in the buggy. The battery-operated heater in Abe’s buggy had quit working earlier in the day.

  Abe reached for her hand and squeezed. “You’re feeling bad about being happy.”

  She’d done her best not to let it show. “Sorry.”

  “It’s okay. I can just tell when your mind goes somewhere else.” Abe blew a cold fog as he spoke.

  Mary Carol snuggled up against him on the couch. The blue-and-red-checkered fabric was faded, and the cushions sagged in the middle. The house had been vacant for years, but from the looks of things, they hadn’t been the only ones seeking privacy and a little relief from the weather.

  “I wonder who else is coming here.” She pointed to an empty Coke can on a TV tray next to an old tan recliner.

  Abe got up and walked to the chair. “Maybe this has been here for a long time.” He lifted the can and smelled it. Mary Carol giggled.

  “Do you think smelling it will tell you how old it is?” She stood up and walked toward him.

  “Ya, maybe, smarty-pants.” He grinned as he tossed the empty can back and forth, his teeth chattering like hers. “Let’s look around.”

  “Not upstairs,” she said quickly. “I’m already worried the second floor is going to fall in on us, or we’re going to step on a loose board down here.”

  “Nah.” Abe pushed back the rim of his straw hat. “These old farmhouses were built sturdy, probably by gut Amish folks.”

  Mary Carol hugged herself to keep warm as she followed Abe into the kitchen. “Nee, Mr. Porter lived here until he died, and he wasn’t Amish.”

  “I know, but he was in his seventies. I heard mei daed talking about this house once. He was telling mei mamm about three men who were staying here, but he stopped talking when he saw me, and I didn’t hear the rest. But I think he said it was about a hundred years old. So it could have been one of our ancestors who built it before Mr. Porter lived here.” He pointed to an electrical outlet to the right of the sink. “Mr. Porter probably had it wired for electricity.” Abe opened one of the cabinets, which was empty, then he shuffled sideways and opened the rest.

  “Ew,” Mary Carol said when she saw the skeletal remains of a small mouse. She took a step back, and Abe came to her and wrapped his arms around her waist.

  “I was warmer when we were on the couch.” He towered over her as he pressed his lips to hers. In thirty years, would kissing Abe still give her this heady feeling?

  She eased away from him and shivered. “It’s much colder here in the kitchen.”

  Abe pointed to the window above the sink. “When I was looking in the cabinets, I felt the cold air blowing from here. Needs caulking around the panes.” He latched onto her hand and they returned to the living room. The only furniture was the couch, the recliner, and the tray. She wanted to see the second story, but one of the steps was missing a piece of wood, and part of the handrail was broken off about halfway up. They were about to sit when Mary Carol noticed something in the corner of the room.

  “Look.” She pointed to a roll of silver wrapping paper, a reel of purple ribbon, a pair of scissors, and some tape. “Someone’s been wrapping Christmas presents.” She sat down beside Abe on the couch. “Maybe we shouldn’t be here.”

  Abe cupped her cheeks in his hands, and she decided not to worry about it. After a few more minutes, she eased away. Abe’s breathing was ragged, and she could feel her heart pounding. These were indicators that it was time to stop. She wondered how many other couples—Englisch or Amish—had made out on this very couch. “I probably need to get home.”

  Abe took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. “Ya, probably so.” He stood up and offered her his hand. Mary Carol trusted Abe not to go too far with her, but it was getting harder and harder to keep tabs on his roaming hands. Sometimes she was tempted to give herself to him, but she’d made a vow to God that she would wait until she was married. She was only eighteen, but that was a fine marrying age. Mary Carol planned to be baptized soon, so maybe Abe would ask her before too long. Her parents had been eighteen when they got married. But every time she thought about a wedding, she thought about her father. Maybe it was too soon to be thinking about celebrating such things.

  A blast of cold air met them when Abe opened the front door, and they rushed to the buggy. Mary Carol had told her mother she’d be home in time to help with supper. She hoped she wasn’t late.

  Katherine sat down on her bed and stared at the gift. Luckily, Linda had gotten distracted shortly after the package arrived and hadn’t pestered her about it.

  She turned up the lantern on her bedside table and took a deep breath. What if this man was a threat to her family? It was an additional worry she didn’t need.

  She slid the purple ribbon from the package, then slowly peeled back the silver paper to reveal a saltine cracker box. She gave it a gentle shake before she turned it end over end and listened to the contents shift.
A strange choice for a gift box.

  The box opened easily at one end. She peeked inside before she dumped it on her bed. Photographs. Dozens of them. All of Elias. And a few of Katherine and the children.

  She tried to blink back the tears that rushed to her eyes. There was a photo of Elias at an auction not long before he died. Another was of Katherine and Elias outside the pizza place. She picked up a snapshot of Elias holding Gideon and could no longer stave off her tears. She brought it closer to her face, and it took her a minute before she realized it had been taken just two days before the accident. She quickly glanced at the rest of the pictures, but fear was catching up with her other emotions. She unfolded a yellow piece of paper that was mixed in with the photographs.

  Katherine wiped her eyes and put on her reading glasses. The penmanship was shaky, barely legible.

  I know pictures are not allowed, but following the loss of a loved one, photographs can bring much comfort. I think the bishop—and the Lord—would think it’s okay for you to have these. I hope they will bring you a little bit of happiness.

  I’m leaving this on your front porch because I haven’t gotten up the nerve to talk to you. I don’t know if you’re even going to want to talk to me, but I know you’ve seen me around. I’m not a stalker or anything. I won’t cause you any troubles. I’m just an old man with a borrowed camera that enjoys taking pictures of your family. Or I should say, our family.

  I will be at the coffee shop on Tuesday morning at nine o’clock if you would like to meet. The coffee shop where you and Elias used to go sometimes.

  Katherine held her breath as she reread the last couple of lines.

  Kindest Regards,

  James Zook

  Katherine was a little girl the last time she saw James. Even back then, he walked with a limp, although she didn’t know why. Like the other Amish men in their community, he’d grown a long beard following marriage, and Katherine remembered him being a deacon in the church. He no longer had a beard, and his dark hair was now long and peppered with gray.

  She stood up and paced the length of her bedroom, trying to decide what to do. Part of her wanted to meet Elias’s father because it would give her back a piece of her husband. But why had the man disappeared all those years ago? And why was he sneaking around? The thought of him taking pictures of the family was disturbing. And why were so many taken shortly before her husband was hit by a car?

  James Zook had abandoned his wife and only son over thirty years ago. And to Katherine’s knowledge, no one had heard from him since. Had he been living right here in Paradise?

  She sat down on the bed and flipped through each picture again. Whatever his intentions, her father-in-law was right about one thing. Pictures were not allowed by their people, but seeing them made her feel something she hadn’t felt in months: comforted.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Katherine arrived at the coffee shop early and ordered a black coffee. As she waited at the table, she prayed that the Lord would bless her with the right words today. Elias had rarely talked about his father, but his departure had left scars. Over the years, the pain had been mostly replaced by anger and resentment. She wasn’t sure her husband would approve of this meeting. She’d chosen not to say anything to the children. Not yet.

  James came in the door and walked directly to her booth. He stood in front of her for a few moments before sliding into the booth across from her.

  Katherine cleared her throat. “Hello.” She noticed right away that he and Elias both had the same nose, long and narrow. Her husband had also been blessed with incredible blue eyes that he had obviously inherited from his father. The most noticeable difference between Elias and his father were the lines of time feathering across James’s face, and whereas Elias had been gifted with a lovely set of straight teeth, this man’s bottom teeth crossed in the front.

  “Am I late? I hate to be late.” His eyebrows drew together in an agonized expression, his eyes fixed on her as he waited for her response.

  “Uh, nee. I-I don’t think you’re late.” Katherine’s stomach churned. “Would you like some coffee? You have to order it at the counter.”

  “I don’t drink coffee, but danki.” He folded his hands on top of the table. Katherine noticed a stain on his wrinkled blue shirt. He wasn’t wearing a coat. She studied his face, noticing he looked a bit disheveled and needed a shave.

  “Do you still speak Pennsylvania Deitsch?” Maybe Elias’s father had left his family but resumed his Amish lifestyle within another district.

  “I remember a few words.” His face split into a wide grin. He was missing a couple of teeth toward the back. “Did you like the pictures?”

  Katherine swallowed hard, wishing her stomach would settle down. “Ya, I did. Danki.”

  “I have lots more.”

  “Mr. Zook . . . why didn’t—”

  “Just James,” he said as he sat taller. “We’re family.”

  Katherine took a deep breath and wondered if Elias was watching from heaven. “Why didn’t you make yourself known to Elias before he died? And why the pictures?”

  James’s eyes darted around the room as he blinked his left eye a few times. Then he locked eyes with her. “I’m being followed, so I can’t be too careful.”

  Katherine looked around the small coffee shop, then back at him. “Who is following you?”

  He tapped a finger to the side of his face. “I’m not sure. But I think it’s the FBI. That stands for Federal Bureau of Investigation.”

  “Uh, ya. I know.” She recalled a horrific crime that had occurred in the area when she was very young. Even though her parents had kept the details from Katherine, she remembered hearing that the FBI was in Paradise. She took a sip of her coffee and kept her eyes on him.

  “I used to be one of them. That’s why I don’t drink coffee. Got burned out on it.” He leaned back against the booth and folded his arms across his chest. “I’m privy to a lot of top secret information, so they keep a tail on me. But I have no intention of telling them what I know until I’m safely behind the pearly gates.” He leaned forward and folded his hands atop the table again. “How old are you?”

  Katherine tried to find her voice, relieved that Elias wasn’t here to see his father like this. “I’m, uh . . . thirty-eight.” She forced a smile. “James, can you tell me why you’re taking pictures of my family?”

  He sighed, and Katherine got a whiff of his breath. She struggled not to cringe. She prayed that James wasn’t dangerous, just crazy.

  “I came here to see Elias, but I was nervous to meet all of you.” His eye fluttered again before he went on. “I took a bunch of pictures in case Elias sent me packing, figuring I’d at least have pictures to look at sometimes.” He shrugged. “But that car hit him not long after I got here.” Frowning, he started counting on his fingers. “Six or seven days. No . . . actually it was twelve days after I got here. Possibly a week.” He sighed. “It could have been three days.”

  Katherine wasn’t a drinker, but she’d seen Widow Kauffman adding brandy to her coffee on more than one occasion. Katherine didn’t think that sounded like a bad idea right now. She took another sip of coffee as she wondered what James had been doing for the past thirty years. “So, are you living here in Paradise?”

  “For now. The Lord sent me here. The same way He sent me to Michigan to work with the FBI.” He hung his head for a few moments before he looked back at her with sad eyes, one of them beginning to twitch again. “We can’t question the Lord.” He shrugged and grinned. “Why would we, right? He’s God.” Then he chuckled. Loudly.

  Katherine moved her eyes about the room. Two elderly couples on the other side of the shop chatted, not seeming to notice James’s outburst. Katherine nodded. “Ya, you’re right. We don’t question the Lord’s will.” She paused. “James, did you continue practicing our faith after you left here? Did you live in another Amish community?”

  He stared at her with a blank expression. “Of course not.
”

  “Oh, it just wondered me if you might have.”

  Leaning forward, he put his palms flat on the table and spoke to her in a whisper. “They don’t take Amish people at the Federal Bureau of Investigation.”

  “Ya. Of course not.” Katherine smoothed the wrinkles from her dress. “James, I need to ask you not to take any more pictures of me or mei family. It is very unsettling. And can I ask you to please stop following me? I’m happy to meet you here for coffee from time to time.”

  He leaned back again and waved a hand in her direction as he grunted. “No worries. I won’t be here long.” He shook his head. “To tell you the truth, I thought I would have been gone long before now. But our Father extended my stay.”

  Katherine hoped she didn’t have to get the Englisch authorities involved. “Where are you staying?”

  “I’d rather not say.”

  Katherine inhaled a slow, steady breath, and as she released it, she willed herself to stay calm and sympathetic. She had a great-aunt who was mentally ill. “Okay. But you will stop following me, right?”

  “I will.”

  Katherine drank the last of her coffee. “I should go now. It was nice to see you after all these years.” Forgive the lie, Lord. “I’m sorry you weren’t able to visit with Elias while he was alive.”

  “I didn’t really care for that funeral your people threw for my son.”

  Katherine’s breath caught in her throat. She tried not to think about the funeral and how difficult it had been to say good-bye to Elias’s earthly body. “You were there?”

  “Only at the grave site, and I stayed under the patch of trees at the back of the cemetery. I couldn’t hear what was said.” James frowned. “But it was clear that there wasn’t near enough fanfare for my son. No flowers or music.”

  “Have you forgotten that Amish funerals are plain? We don’t do those things.”