An Amish Christmas

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An Amish Christmas Page 6

by Patricia Davids


  Surprised by his request, she said, “Nee, I do not mind. Do you know how to drive a horse?”

  “I think I can. I’ve been watching you do it.” Taking the reins, he sat up straight and guided Molly down the highway.

  After watching for a few minutes, Karen said, “That is goot. I think you’ve done this before.”

  John smiled at her. “I think you’re right.”

  “Perhaps you are ex-Amish.”

  The moment the words left her mouth her heart sank like a stone. If John had taken the vows of their faith and then left the community, all would shun him. She would have to shun him.

  He didn’t seem to notice her concern. “The sheriff did discuss that possibility.”

  Dismissing the idea as unacceptable, she said, “You don’t speak or understand our language. Surely you could not forget the tongue you grew up with.”

  He shrugged. “Who would think I could forget my own name? As far as I’m concerned anything is possible.”

  Racking her mind for local families with members who’d strayed, she quickly came up with several. In their tight-knit community, she was sure she knew all the young men who’d left. The only one close to John’s age would have been Isaac Troyer’s son who left almost ten years ago. He looked nothing like John. The others she could think of who had left the community were much younger men and a few young women.

  There were at least three families who had moved into the area recently. If they had members leave the faith before coming to this church district she didn’t know about them.

  In less than a quarter of a mile, they reached the lane of another farm. John turned the horse onto the narrow road. Karen said, “When we get to the bishop’s house, you should stay in the buggy.”

  “Why?”

  “So that I may speak privately to Bishop Zook and ask if he can assist you.”

  “And if he says no?” John’s tone carried a hint of annoyance.

  “Bishop Zook is a wise and much-respected man. If you have his permission to speak to the members of our church it will open many doors that might otherwise be closed to you.”

  John relented. “All right. I’ll follow your lead.”

  “Goot.” She nodded her satisfaction.

  Driving the buggy up to the front of the house, he drew the mare to a stop. Before Karen could step out, Joseph Zook walked out of the house toward her. “Guder mariye, Karen,” he called cheerfully. “What brings you here today?”

  “Good morning, Bishop. I have brought someone to meet you. This is John Doe, the man who was found unconscious beside our lane.”

  Concern furrowed the minister’s brow. “I have heard the story. I am glad to see that you are recovered, Mr. Doe.”

  “I’m not quite recovered, sir.” John touched the bandage on the side of his head. “I have no memory of my past. I’m hoping that you can help me.”

  “I am sorry for your injury, but how can I help?”

  “Do you recognize me? Have you ever seen me be fore?”

  The bishop studied him intently then said, “Nee, I have not.”

  Karen could feel John’s disappointment in the slump of his body beside her. She addressed the bishop. “John wishes to speak to members of our church to see if anyone knows him or knows something about him.”

  The bishop studied Karen intently. He switched to Pennsylvania Dutch. “You must be careful, Karen. To become involved in this outsider business is not a good thing.”

  She bowed her head slightly. “How can helping an injured man be a bad thing? I feel that this is what God wants me to do.”

  “Be sure it is God’s will you are seeking, Karen, and not your own.”

  “I will heed your advice, Bishop.”

  The bishop turned his attention back to John and spoke in English. “You may speak to members of our church if they wish it also. I will pray that you find the answers you seek, young man.”

  Karen watched the bishop walk away. She had been warned. Her support for John must be limited and above reproach. She reached for the reins but John ignored her outstretched hand, turning the horse easily in the yard and sending her down the lane.

  Karen put the bishop’s warning behind her. “You have driven a buggy many times.”

  “Maybe I’m just a fast learner.”

  “Perhaps.” Her spirits sank lower. How many English knew how to drive a buggy? Not many. It seemed more likely that her earlier assumption was correct. John had been raised Plain.

  If he had left the church before his baptism, he would be accepted by most of the Amish in her community. If, on the other hand, he had rejected the church after baptism he would be considered an outcast until he made a full confession before the congregation.

  She glanced at him once more. How could a man confess his sins if he had no memory of them? He looked happy at the moment driving Molly along at a steady pace. The cold rain had stopped and the sun peeked out. Up ahead on the road, Henry Zook, the bishop’s youngest son, was traveling to market in his farm wagon. John slowed Molly to follow behind him. When the way was clear and free of traffic, he sent Molly high stepping around the wagon.

  When the mare drew level with the other horses she suddenly picked up her pace eager to get in front of them.

  “You’ve got some speed, Molly girl,” John called to the horse.

  Instead of letting the mare keep her fast pace, he reined her in and grinned at Karen. “I’d love to let her go and see just how much she’s got.”

  “Why don’t you?” she asked, hoping to hear the right answer.

  He shook his head. “No, she has too many miles to haul us yet. It wouldn’t be kind to wear her out on a joyride.”

  Looking straight ahead, Karen smiled inwardly. “What ever you have done in your past life, you care about animals. You can add it to your list of things you have discovered about yourself.”

  “Now if I can only locate a pencil sharpener,” he added drily.

  “What?” She tipped her head to stare at him in confusion.

  “Never mind. Where to next?”

  “Up ahead is the farm of Elam Sutter. He and some of his family moved here from Pennsylvania almost two years ago. Elam is getting married next week.”

  Twisting in the seat, she grasped his arm as excitement rippled though her mind. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of it sooner. It makes perfect sense.”

  “What makes perfect sense?”

  “Perhaps you were coming for the wedding. Elam’s fiancée, Katie Lantz, lived out in the world for several years. She knows many English. That must be it.”

  John tried not to get his hopes up but Karen’s excitement was contagious. He asked, “Why didn’t they report me as missing?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe they weren’t sure when you would arrive. Maybe your coming was a surprise for them.”

  He wanted to believe her scenarios but he was growing used to disappointment. Still, his palms began to sweat. “We will see soon enough.”

  As they rolled into the yard, John saw four other buggies lined up beside the barn. He drew Molly to stop in front of the house.

  Karen withdrew a large box from the back of the buggy. John took it from her and followed her to the front door. He was surprised when she didn’t knock but went right in. The spacious kitchen was filled to overflowing with enticing smells of baking and the happy chatter of a half dozen women engaged in cleaning and polishing every surface in the house.

  The oldest woman in the room came forward drying her hands on her white apron. With a bright smile on her face, she said, “Karen, how nice to see you.”

  Karen said, “I’ve brought some of my mother’s best bowls and platters for you to use at the wedding, Nettie.”

  “Wonderful. They will come in handy. I’ve forgotten how much work it takes to get ready for a wedding dinner.” Nettie indicated a place for John to set his burden.

  Karen said, “I have come with another errand, Nettie. Everyone, this is John Doe, the m
an who was found injured on our farm.” Karen smiled encouragement at him.

  The room grew quiet. John felt everyone’s eyes on him. He scanned their faces looking for any hint of recognition. He saw nothing but blank stares. Either they had no idea who he was, or they were very good actresses. Once again his hopes slipped away. Why didn’t someone know him? Why?

  Looking over the group, Karen asked, “Where is Katie?”

  Nettie said, “She is upstairs changing the baby.”

  One of the other women stepped forward. “Are you a friend of Katie’s? I am Ruby, her future sister-in-law. This is my sister Mary, my sister-in-law Sally Yoder, and this is my mother, Nettie Sutter.”

  John nodded to them. “I’m not sure if I know Katie. I sure hope she knows me. The injury to my head robbed me of my memory. Karen thinks I may have been coming to the wedding.”

  Ruby and Mary exchanged puzzled glances. The two women were in their late twenties or early thirties. They were clearly related to Nettie. The women shared the same bright blue eyes, apple-red cheeks and blond hair although Nettie’s was streaked with silver. They all wore plain dresses with white caps and white aprons.

  The teenager, Sally, had red hair and freckles, but she wasn’t smiling in welcome the way the others were. Her eyes held a frightened, guarded look. She said, “I will go get Katie.”

  Spinning around, she opened a door and rushed up the stairs beyond.

  He waited, not taking his eyes off the stairwell. After an eternity, he heard footsteps coming down. The woman who entered the kitchen was dressed in the same Amish fashion as the others, but her hair was black as coal. She came toward him with a perplexed expression in her dark eyes. He held his breath, not daring to hope.

  Stopping in front of him, she said, “Emma Wadler mentioned that she had met you at the inn, Mr. Doe. I’m sorry I can’t be of any help. I don’t recognize you.”

  He could barely swallow past the lump in his throat. A vicious headache, brought on by his frustration, sapped his strength. He managed to say, “I’m sorry we interrupted your afternoon. Thank you for your time.”

  Nettie spoke up, “Would you like some tea? I have the kettle on.”

  He shook his head, eager to escape before the pounding in his temple made him sick.

  Katie said, “Elam is in his workshop. Perhaps he has met you before.”

  After looking at John closely, Karen said, “Come with me. I will show you the way.”

  He followed her outside into the fresh, cool air. Only then did he realize how hot the kitchen had been. Breathing deeply, he struggled to master the pain in his head.

  “Take slow deep breaths,” Karen said, standing at his side.

  “I’m okay. How did you know?” If he kept his eyes closed the pain wasn’t as bad.

  “My mother used to get migraines. Do they happen to you often?” she asked gently.

  “Two or three times since I woke up in the hospital.”

  She led him toward a small bench set beneath the bare gnarled branches of an apple tree. “Sit here. I will fetch Elam.”

  John was in no shape to argue. Leaning back against the rough bark of the tree, he let his mind go blank. Slowly, the pain receded.

  “Hey, buddy, think fast.”

  John’s eyes popped open as he threw up his hands to catch the apple being thrown at him. Only there was none. He was alone. He closed his eyes again and rebuilt the scene in his mind.

  The tree overhead was lush with green leaves and heavy with fruit. Yellow apples. He was sitting on the cool grass with his back against the trunk of the tree. A hot breeze flowed over his skin, making him glad of the shade. Birds were singing nearby. An occasional raucous cry sounded from among them. He heard the drone of insects, then the pad of footsteps approaching.

  Close by, a woman’s voice, low and sweet said, “Here is my geils-mann loafing under a tree.”

  He tried to turn his head to see her face, but found himself staring at his boots, instead. The harder he tried to see her, the more rapidly the scene faded.

  “John? John, this is Elam Sutter.”

  Opening his eyes, John saw Karen standing in front of him. Blinking hard, he looked around. The tree branches were bare. The lawn was brown and curled in winter sleep. Behind Karen, a tall, broad-shouldered man in a dark coat and black Amish hat stood regarding him intently.

  Sharp bitterness lanced through John at the loss of his brief summer memory. His identity had been so close he could almost touch it and now it was gone.

  How often could his mind be torn in two this way without finally ripping into pieces?

  Chapter Six

  Disappointment drained John’s strength. The memory was gone. He couldn’t get it back, but Karen and her friend were still waiting for him to speak.

  He forced himself to rise and extended his hand to Elam. “I’m pleased to meet you, Mr. Sutter. I guess Karen has told you why I’m here.”

  Elam’s grip was strong and firm. “She has. I do not know your face, John Doe. I wish I could be more help.”

  “Thank you. I’m sorry we interrupted your work.”

  The sound of the front door closing made them all look toward the house. Katie came out wrapping a black shawl around her shoulders. John happened to glance at Elam’s face. The soft smile and the glow in the Amishman’s eyes told John this was a love match. When Katie reached them, Elam slipped an arm around her waist to block the cold.

  She said to John, “Are you sure you won’t come in for a while? We have hot apple pie and coffee if you’d like.”

  “No, but thank you. Congratulations on your engagement.”

  “Danki,” Katie blushed sweetly as she gazed at Elam with adoring eyes. John wondered if a woman had ever looked at him that way.

  After bidding the couple farewell, John followed Karen to the buggy. He relinquished the reins to her, knowing his headache wouldn’t let him keep his mind on the road. They were getting ready to leave when Nettie came racing out of the house carrying a large basket covered with a checkered cloth.

  Breathlessly, she reached them and handed the basket to Karen. “This is for you and your family. A couple of my peach pies because I know Eli likes them best. How is he doing?”

  Karen accepted the basket. “He gets his cast off next week, but he must still wear a brace and sling. He is chaffing at the bit to get back to work.”

  “Has feeling returned to his hand?”

  “Some, but he has no strength in it.”

  “The poor man. He’s coming to the wedding, isn’t he?” A faint crease of worry appeared between Nettie’s brows.

  “He would not miss it,” Karen assured her.

  Relief smoothed away Nettie’s frown. “That is goot. And you, Mr. Doe, you are welcome to come to the wedding dinner. There will be plenty of food and there will be other English there, too,” she added with a bright smile.

  “Thank you. That is very kind.” He tried to be noncommittal. Attending the wedding of someone he barely knew seemed presumptuous.

  Nettie fixed her gaze on Karen. “Tell your father…tell him I think about him often. When this wedding fuss is over you must all come for Sunday dinner.”

  “We will look forward to it.”

  John closed his eyes and rubbed his brow as Karen drove Molly back to the highway. The jolting and creaking of the buggy added nausea to his discomfort.

  Karen pulled Molly to a halt when they reached the end of the Sutters’ lane. “Do you still wish to go into Hope Springs?”

  What he wanted was to lie down somewhere dark and quiet and let his mind travel back to that green, hot place and stay there until he saw the face of the woman who had been with him. As much as he wanted to do that, he knew he couldn’t stop now. “Let’s keep going. I want to see as many people as I can today.”

  Karen studied John with deep concern. His color was pale, his eyes sunken with pain. He looked as if he might topple out of the buggy at any second. He kept one hand pressed to his f
orehead in an attempt to block the light from his eyes.

  When she didn’t start Molly moving, he glanced at her. “What’s wrong? I said let’s go into town.”

  She let out a sigh. “Nee, we are going home. You have done too much today. You are in pain and you need rest.”

  He sat up straight to hide his weakness. “I’m fine. It’s just a headache.”

  “Men! Always trying to show how tough they are. Anyone with eyes in their head can see you are done in. We will go home now and that is the end of it. Tomorrow will be here soon enough.”

  “I’ll be okay,” he insisted.

  “Ja. When you have had a rest I’m sure you will be fine.” Clicking her tongue, she urged Molly onto the highway and sent her trotting briskly toward their farm.

  “Are you always this domineering?”

  He had no idea how tough she could be, but he just might find out. “When I must tell a child what to do, ja, I am.”

  “Now you’re saying I’m acting like a child?”

  “A stubborn, willful child.”

  “I’m going to let that slide. I can see arguing with you is fruitless. When did you take over the job of raising your brothers and sister?”

  “I am the eldest daughter. It is expected of me to care for the younger ones. My mother was killed four years ago if that is what you are asking?”

  “You do a good job with them.”

  “They are goot children. They make the job easy.”

  “Even Jacob?”

  “Jacob is in a hurry to be the man of the house. He wants to take over for our father until Papa is well.”

  “But you don’t want him to do that.”

  She hadn’t realized her fear was that transparent.

  “Being a farrier is a hard job. It takes strength. A man must know how to read a horse. Some of the draft horses my father works on weigh nearly a ton. A man can shoe a horse nine times without trouble and on the tenth time that horse decides he wants to kill the farrier.”

  “I didn’t say you were wrong to worry.”

 

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