A Simple Amish Christmas

by Vannetta Chapman

  Her mamm was in the bedroom, settling her dat for the evening, and Reba had gone to bed early, suspiciously eager to turn in with one hand held protectively over her apron pocket and the other clutching an empty shoebox she’d found in the bottom of Annie’s closet.

  Though darkness had settled around the fields over an hour ago, Adam had returned to the barn in order to work on a mysterious gift for his bride.

  Which left Charity and Annie alone by the warmth of the stove, sewing last-minute Christmas presents.

  “How does it feel to be in lieb?”

  “Charity Weaver. You cannot be talking about Samuel.” Annie pulled harder on the knotted thread, tugged it through the broadcloth linen, and stuck her finger with the needle.

  Popping it in her mouth, she glared at her sister.

  “Don’t glare at me. I wasn’t careless with the needle. Is it bleeding?”

  “No, it’s not bleeding.” Annie examined her finger under the light. “But it’s sore, and you distracted me. Now tell me about Samuel’s clinic.”

  Charity raised an eyebrow as her needles clicked away on the blue and gray scarf she was knitting for Reba. “In the winter, he takes the large tack room and puts wooden benches inside along one wall. Then he curtains one or more of the stalls for privacy, and that’s where he sees people.”

  “There in the barn?”

  “Ya. And he always has his sign up. It’s only a handwritten sheet of paper, but I’ve never been there when it wasn’t on the wall and on the table where people signed in.”

  “What does it say?” Annie let her sewing rest in her lap.

  Why couldn’t she remember any of this?

  She’d been to see Samuel herself when she was young— once when her throat had swollen and she couldn’t swallow a thing. He’d made her say “Ahh,” shined his light down her throat, and sent her right on to Doctor Stoltzfus, who had prescribed antibiotics.

  But she remembered nothing about his barn or home. Her visit there must have been when Samuel first began practicing, maybe a year or so before the accident that killed his fraa and boppli.

  Charity dropped her voice an octave, imitating Samuel’s tone and serious manner. “This is not a medical facility. Neighbors help neighbors, but I am not authorized to dispense medicine. Please go to the Englisch facility if you think you need a licensed medical doctor.”

  Annie smiled and resumed sewing. “You do a fair imitation.”

  “Danki. In the summer, buggies line the yard and folks sit around under the shade trees, waiting until he calls them in. It’s easier on the kinner if they can be outside.”

  “At the Englisch hospital where I worked, we had a playroom with toys.”

  “Do you miss it?”

  Continuing with her row of stitches forming a neat hem on Adam and Leah’s linens, Annie didn’t reply right away.

  “I miss the kinner,” she finally said, her voice low and honest like the cry of a bleating lamb. “But the city was not for me. I couldn’t have stayed there much longer. It pulled at me, made me naerfich deep inside.”

  Charity’s knitting needles paused. “I didn’t think anything ever rattled you. You were always the rock that didn’t budge— like Dat or Adam.”

  Annie’s laughter bubbled up, causing her to slip a stitch. “I suppose I had you fooled so you’d mind me when you were small.”

  They both glanced over at Rebekah as she opened her bedroom door. “Is there room by the fire for one more?”

  “Ya. Especially if you bring the plate of cookies,” Charity teased. As Rebekah sidetracked to the kitchen, Charity leaned toward Annie. “Are you positive you’re not a little in lieb with Samuel? You act like one of Reba’s new kittens when he’s around. Is that how love feels?”

  Annie’s heart beat faster and her palms began to sweat so much that she feared she’d stain Adam and Leah’s gift.

  She stopped to blot her hands against her apron, met Charity’s quizzical gaze, but before she could answer her question, before she could deny such an absurd thing, Rebekah had joined them, and they turned the conversation to the Christmas meal, which was exactly a week away.

  But she thought of Charity’s comment later that evening as she readied for bed and again the following morning. She did feel like a new kitten when she was around Samuel—clumsy, warm, alive. Was she in love or could she be coming down with the flu?

  But she didn’t feel sick, she felt excited.

  So she enjoyed breakfast, checked the supplies in her quilted bag—even though she knew Samuel would have everything she’d need—and thanked the Lord for sunny weather. Driving the buggy to Samuel’s place would be no problem.

  Chaos ruled in the house at the moment, but instead of annoying her, the activity energized her even more. Her dat stumped around the living room in an attempt to show Rebekah he’d be fine spending the entire day in the barn with Adam.

  “I believe my legs are stronger, from having to carry these casts around so long.” He limped across the room’s entire length again, the longer cast making a hollow thumping sound echoed by the crutches he now used.

  “Catch her!” Reba called sharply.

  “I am not picking up your rat.” Charity pulled on her gloves and walked toward the door. “Mother, tell her she can’t ride with us if she insists on carrying rodents in her pockets.”

  “Come here, Priscilla.” Holding a small piece of cracker out to the field mouse—which she had apparently named—Reba coaxed the mouse out from under the stove. “Don’t be afraid of Charity—she’s all bluster.”

  Annie wasn’t a bit surprised when the creature crawled into her schweschder’s hand.

  Quicker than a raindrop falls to the ground, Reba slipped the mouse into her apron pocket and fastened the button over it against any further escapes. Reba was the only person Annie knew who had sewn button straps over her pockets. With a huge smile on her face, she pulled on her coat and turned to Charity.

  “I’m ready.”

  “Oh no, you’re not. I told you before, no mouse is riding with us.”

  “Mamm—” Reba turned toward her mother, a petulant look on her face.

  Adam burst through the front door, and all conversation stopped.

  “We have a transportation problem.”

  Everyone froze in the midst of pulling on coats, gloves, and scarves.

  “What are you talking about, son? I checked the buggies myself last night.” Jacob hobbled over to the door on his crutches.

  “Problem isn’t the buggies, Dat. It’s the horse.” Adam pulled off his gloves, strode to the table, picked up one of the fresh cinnamon buns, and began eating it. When Annie slapped him gently on the back of the head, he moved out of her reach but continued eating.

  “What? These smell heavenly. Can’t a man eat?”

  “He can after he explains the problem. We’re all ready to go our various ways.” Her impatience surged through her.

  “Your schweschder’s right. I was headed into town in one buggy with Reba and Charity,” Rebekah said. “Annie was taking the other to Samuel’s to help him with Saturday patients.”

  “And I was coming out to the barn to work for the day, alone, with no women-folk around.” Jacob scowled and thumped nearer to the table.

  “Hold on.” Adam set his sweet roll down on the table and brushed his hands off on his pants. “I didn’t say anyone had to cancel. I said we had a problem. The older mare has something wrong with her shoe. I noticed her favoring it last night. Now she won’t stand on it.”

  Annie groaned and plopped down on the couch. The older mare was the one horse she trusted herself to drive.

  “Still have two buggies,” Jacob reasoned. “Charity’s harnessed Blaze to the smaller buggy a few times. No reason Annie can’t drive her.”

  All eyes turned to Annie.

  “Oh, no. I love your new horse, Dat. I brush her nearly every night, but I’ll not be driving with her harnessed to the small buggy. I’d end up in the next count
y by the time she tires.”

  “I wouldn’t mind trying,” Rebekah said slowly, “But I’m headed into town—probably not the best destination for her first formal trip.”

  “Charity can handle her.” Adam reached for another cinnamon bun, stepping even farther away from Annie as he did so. “And don’t slap me for eating. A man thinks better as he eats.”

  “ ’Course I can drive Blaze,” Charity declared in her no-nonsense way. “But I was headed into town with Mamm.”

  Annie sailed across the room to her. “You wouldn’t mind coming with me, would you, Charity? Just this once. I’m sure we could use an extra hand, and think of the people you’ll be helping.”

  Charity reached into her coat pocket even as she shook her head in exasperation. “Here’s my list for the store, Mamm. At least I won’t be riding with a mouse!” Then she opened the front door and trudged off in the direction of the barn.

  Annie glanced from Adam to her father. “Are you sure she can handle Blaze behind the buggy? I don’t want to end up in a ditch.”

  “Your schweschder can handle the mare without any problem. She’s a strong hand about her when it comes to horses.” Jacob chuckled. “The man will be lucky who snatches up Charity.”

  “Man maybe, animals not so much.” Reba scooted out the front door before either parent had a chance to correct her.

  Soon they were all climbing into their respective buggies, and Jacob and Adam were waving them off. Annie would have waved back, but her fingers clung to the seat for dear life as Charity gripped the reins and clucked to the horse, and Blaze galloped away.

  “I thought you could control her,” Annie managed to gasp.

  “I am controlling her. We’re right side up, aren’t we?”

  “Barely. Can’t you slow her down?”

  Charity rolled her eyes and jerked on the horse’s reins. When she did, Blaze stopped hard, throwing both girls forward and nearly off their seat.

  Annie reached out an arm to break her schweschder’s fall, much as their mamm used to do when they were small. The reaction was so instinctive, and so unnecessary given they were grown women, that it threw them both into a fit of giggles.

  Blaze first tossed her head, then proceeded to nudge through the snow looking for something to nibble.

  Charity wiped at the tears springing from the corners of her eyes. “Hold these reins, mamm,” she teased. “I need to have a talk with my horse.”

  Annie would have refused the reins, but Charity had already tossed them into her hands and climbed out of the buggy without waiting for an answer. Walking in front of the horse, she spoke soft and low, but even from where Annie sat she could hear the authority in her schweschder’s voice.

  It reminded her of what her dat had said—Charity was fine with horses. How would it translate to a man? She hadn’t stopped to think of her schweschder marrying. Charity had always seemed like a little girl to her, but watching her walk back around and step up into the buggy, she realized that was no longer true.

  In fact, she was guilty of the very same things she had been angry with Samuel about. She had neglected to notice Charity had grown up, exactly as Samuel had refused to acknowledge that she was no longer a young girl.

  Charity clucked to Blaze, who moved out at a much steadier pace.

  “How do you like working at the store with Mamm?”

  “I don’t mind it.” Charity shrugged, then glanced at Annie curiously as if to determine what lurked behind the line of questioning.

  “Which isn’t the same as liking what you do every day.” “Didn’t say I like it, said I don’t mind it.” Charity jerked on the reins when Blaze made to break into a faster trot.

  “So would you like a different job?”

  “No. I suspect any other job would be the same to me.”

  “I don’t understand.” Annie cornered herself in the buggy and studied her schweschder, now thoroughly curious.

  “What’s there to understand?” Charity looked at her with such an open expression that Annie immediately thought of her bruder. With Adam things were usually quite simple. Perhaps life was the same for Charity.

  “What do you like about working in the store?”

  “I need to work somewhere, and the store is interesting enough. I enjoy seeing different people every day, and the hours pass quickly.”

  “All right. And what don’t you like about it?”

  Charity reached up and adjusted her kapp. “I don’t especially like being cooped up in one place all day long.” She started to say more, but stopped herself, blushed slightly.

  “What is it? What were you about to say?”

  “You’ll say I’m too young.”

  “Of course I won’t. I was just thinking how you’re no longer a girl. I hadn’t realized how grown you’ve become.”

  Charity seemed to consider her confession as she focused on Blaze for a few seconds. “When the girls your age come in to the store, with their little bopplin or expecting one soon, then I know what I want to do.”

  “You mean—”

  “Ya, that’s exactly what I mean. And I know it’s different for you. Because you have your nursing you love to do. I want a home of my own, though. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.” She settled back against the buggy seat, her voice losing some of its confidence. “I suppose I sound gegisch.”

  “You don’t sound gegisch at all, Charity. Is there a special boy you have your eye on?”

  “No. Of course not. You’d know if I was seeing someone.”

  “Is there someone you want to be seeing?” Annie tried to think back over the days since she’d been home. Had there been anyone her sister had paid special attention to?

  “There isn’t, but I have a lot of fun watching you and David.”

  “Charity Weaver.”

  “And you and Samuel.”

  “You’re being ridiculous.” Annie suddenly needed to push the blanket off her lap as heat flooded her cheeks.

  “I don’t know if I’m ready yet, but when I watch you, I think I want to be ready.” Charity seemed oblivious to how embarrassed Annie had become. “And when I watch Adam and Leah, I know their relationship is the kind I want. I think it’s worth waiting for too. Don’t you?”

  They were nearing Samuel’s land, but Charity turned to Annie now, studied her, waited for her reply.

  “Ya, I do think it’s worth waiting for.”

  “I see how much Adam and Leah care for one another, see how they’re willing to wait until the marrying season, wait until their home is ready and they can be together, and I know I can wait until the right person comes along.”

  Annie nodded, suddenly humbled by her little sister’s wisdom.

  Unfortunately, Blaze chose that moment to show off for the other horses. Throwing her head, she sidestepped, then attempted to speed toward Samuel’s barn.

  Charity took the reins firmly in hand, growled out a command that was incomprehensible to Annie, and saw them safely to the hitching post.

  But not before more than a few of the neighbors had turned to stare at the Weaver girls.

  14

  Though outside, the day remained briskly cold, warmth and people filled the inside of Samuel’s barn as sunlight filled the day. In Samuel’s work area, his potbellied stove heated what served as the waiting area.

  But the activity of the thirty or so people gathered and the sun shining through the loft windows warmed even the stalls where he and Annie saw patients.

  And they did see patients.

  Working beside Samuel during the day, in the barn, was a completely new experience for Annie.

  For one thing they were surrounded by people she’d known all her life.

  For another, Charity kept popping in with bizarre questions and a teasing look in her eye.

  “Should I separate the patients who are vomiting from the ones who aren’t?”

  “Are you two willing to look at a sick bird?”

  And Annie’s favorite, “Th
is young man would like to bring his sheep with him into stall three. Should I allow it?”

  The young man she referred to was four years old, and he had no intention of letting go of the sheep he’d turned into a pet—a sheep he referred to as Stank.

  Charity was the one to discover that the boy didn’t cry a bit as long as his right hand remained buried in Stank’s somewhat foul-smelling wool. The boy, Luke, had clean rags completely swathed around his left hand.

  “I’m so sorry.” The young mother hurried over to where the boy stood with his sheep. She straightened the straw hat on the boy’s head, explaining as she did so, “We have a large flock of sheep. For some reason Luke attached himself to this one. Every time I turn around he’s out in that old pen with this sheep. I can’t seem to keep him away from the animal.”

  “What’s wrong with your hand, Luke?” Samuel knelt down next to Luke, since there would be no picking the animal up and setting him on the bench.

  Annie stepped back as she watched Luke tilt his head. With wide, innocent blue eyes he carefully considered Samuel. After giving Stank’s wool a final comforting tug, he touched his hurt hand with his well one. “Tripped while I was following my sheep. Bumped it against a nail.”

  Luke’s frown became a smile as he remembered the most important part of his story. “Stank licked it for me, though, and Mamm bandaged it up.”

  The hand was bandaged to twice its normal size, so that it looked as if the boy wore a baseball mitt made of gauze. Annie was relieved to see that Luke could still move his arm well, which meant infection hadn’t moved up his arm. He also didn’t appear to have any fever.

  Samuel’s gaze traveled from the boy to the animal then back again. “Stank’s a fine pet to take care of you, Luke.”

  “Ya.”

  “And your mamm was smart to wrap it up.”

  The boy nodded, threading the fingers of his good hand back through Stank’s wool.

  “I need to unwrap the bandages, though, to take a look. Miss Annie’s going to help me. Is that all right with you and Stank?”