A Simple Amish Christmas

by Vannetta Chapman

  “It’s funny now,” David said, standing and brushing off his clothes. “We’ll see who’s laughing when the laundry has to be redone.”

  He reached for her hand to pull her out of the hay when suddenly the light was blotted by someone standing in the doorway.

  Annie’s hand went to her chest, her heart rate doubling. She must have made a sound, for David’s hand curled around hers and he pulled her to her feet, placed a steadying hand on her elbow.

  “It’s only Samuel,” David said.

  “You scared the breath out of me,” Annie sputtered. “I didn’t hear your buggy drive up.”

  “Apparently you didn’t,” Samuel said in a voice colder than the morning frost.

  Instead of stepping into the barn, he remained in the doorway.

  Annie shielded her eyes but still couldn’t make out his expression with the sun blazing behind him.

  “I’ll have the buggy ready for you in a few minutes, Annie. Unless you’d rather wait now.” David put a few steps between them, and Annie had the most absurd idea he did it in order to put Samuel at ease.

  “Danki. I’m not sure if I’ll be going right away or not—”

  “Don’t change your plans for me.” Now a clear edge sharpened Samuel’s voice.

  “Of course I can change my plans.” Annie stepped toward him, was finally able to make out the frozen expression on his face. “It’s just I wasn’t expecting you.”

  “Obviously.”

  Annie shook her head, as if she could clear it, could make sense of his mood or his words. “I don’t know what you mean. I don’t understand…”

  She looked to David for an explanation, but he merely shrugged as he picked up the harness and carried it toward Ginger’s stall.

  When she turned back toward Samuel, he was gone.

  Gone? Where could he have possibly gone?

  She hurried through the door and caught up with him as he opened the door to climb into his buggy.

  Samuel didn’t know what he’d seen in the barn between Annie and David, and he sure didn’t want her explaining it. Not now.

  He needed to go home, needed to get back to work, needed to get his life back on track.

  “Samuel, where are you going?”

  “I’m going back home.”

  “But, why did you come by?”

  He reached into the back of the buggy, pulled out the pup, and dropped it into her arms.

  “I wanted to bring you this. I’m needed on the far side of the district to check on a sick family.”

  “Would you like me to go with you?” Annie’s arms curled around the pup, and her eyes went from it to him, imploring him to explain, but he didn’t fall for her supposed confusion.

  He knew what he’d witnessed.

  He was a man of science after all, and facts were facts. He was man enough to face up to them.

  “Samuel? Would you like me to come with you to help?”

  “No, Annie. I wouldn’t.” He picked up the reins, stared out over Smokey’s ears, out past Jacob’s fields.

  “Was iss letz? Why are you angry?”

  He closed his eyes for a moment. What he wanted most was to go back in time, to go back four weeks and not allow his heart to unthaw. Then he wouldn’t be feeling this pain, and he wouldn’t have to explain to her what had happened, what he’d seen.

  But he’d worked in medicine too long to allow something to fester—best to get it over and done with.

  “I’m leaving because I saw how it is between you and David.”

  “How… what?”

  “Annie.” Suddenly he ached with fatigue, doubted whether he could drive the rig home. How had he thought he could find the energy to start over, to be the husband she would need?

  “Come down out of the rig. Talk to me.”

  He allowed his eyes to linger on her then. Though her voice had landed somewhere between anger and scolding, her bottom lip trembled and she pulled it in between her teeth and worried it as she waited.

  “No. Don’t you see, Annie? David’s what you need. I knew that. Somewhere inside I suppose I’ve always known. Then when I walked into the barn and saw the two of you…”

  “We were only talking.” She clenched her arms around the puppy at the same moment a single tear escaped from her right eye.

  Both tore at his heart, but he knew he was right.

  He couldn’t turn back now.

  “Ya, but can’t you see? David is young like you are. David doesn’t have…” His hand went out in front of him, took in the fields that held no crops. “He doesn’t have the history I have. David and you have more in common than we do.”

  “Don’t I have a say in this? Two nights ago you stood in the garden and asked me, you asked me if I’d like to have you come calling.”

  “Well I’m un-asking now.”

  “And I have no say in it?”

  “You said it all with the way you were looking at him.”

  “You’re being unfair. I don’t know what think you saw, but you’re wrong.”

  He shook his head, gathered the reins more tightly in his hands. “No, I’m not. You need someone like David. You deserve him, and I deserve—”

  He bit off the words even as the image of Rachel popped into his mind.

  Why hadn’t he realized it earlier?

  Of course, his duties lay in Ohio.

  And it was the reason he hadn’t mailed the letter he’d written.

  The reason it still sat on his desk at home.

  Annie’s voice pulled him back. “You deserve who, Samuel? Look at me. I have a right to know.”

  He considered not telling her but knew if he didn’t then she wouldn’t go on with her life.

  David pulled Jacob’s mare, hitched to the buggy, out of the barn. He was a good man, David. He would be a good husband to her.

  The best way to show Annie how much he cared about her would be to help her move on, help her move in the direction of what was best for her.

  He could accomplish it by telling her about Rachel.

  “Who do you deserve?” Her question was a whisper, a broken promise waiting to be heard.

  “Mary’s schweschder has been asking me to move to Ohio. She has two small boys who need a daed.” He refused to look away until the weight of his words had sank in, had registered fully. “Her name is Rachel.”

  Annie stepped back away from his buggy, hopped back—as if she’d been slapped. “You’ve never mentioned her before.”

  “I know I haven’t. I didn’t want to move. Didn’t want to accept…” he swallowed, pushed the words out past the lump forming in his throat. “Didn’t want to acknowledge my obligations.”

  He glanced at her once more.

  Arms crossed, clutching the puppy to herself as if she might fly to pieces. She continued to stare at him, as tears ran in rivulets down her face.

  Stared at him as if he were someone she didn’t know.

  And perhaps that was the truth.

  So he murmured to his mare and drove away.

  24

  Annie stared down at the squirming pup in her arms.

  She glanced up when the sound of Samuel’s buggy, retreating down their lane, registered in her heart.

  “Would you like me to take the hound?” David’s voice was quiet, and he stood a few feet from her, still back and toward the barn.

  Annie turned slowly, after she’d brushed at the tears with the heels of her hands. She knew her face must look a mess, but there was nothing she could do about it now.

  “Ya, please.”

  He accepted the warm bundle from her arms, and the little hound immediately began licking him on the chin. Still, David didn’t smile. He did pet the pup, attempting to calm it, and studied her with a concerned look.

  He didn’t say anything, or ask anything.

  He simply waited—like a friend or bruder would.

  “What just happened, David?”

  “I believe maybe Samuel misunderstood wh
at he saw.”

  She nodded in agreement, pulled in a deep steadying breath as they returned to the barn.

  “But I tried to explain. He wouldn’t even listen. He…” Her words fell away. Perhaps it wasn’t proper to be discussing this with David. She should wait. Speak with her mamm tonight, but that was hours away, and she had a weight on her heart threatening to crush her.

  “Samuel walked in at the worst possible moment, Annie. I wouldn’t be too hard on him. Maybe if you give him time to reflect on what he saw, he’ll reconsider. Or maybe if I go and speak with him—”

  “No.” She reached out, touched his arm. “You’ve been a gut friend to me, but this isn’t between you and Samuel. If he can misinterpret such a small thing, if he won’t even hear me out, then perhaps he isn’t the man I thought he was.”

  David frowned as he tucked the puppy into a wooden kennel they’d made for him, made and hidden in her dat’s office portion of the barn—a portion Reba didn’t enter without permission. “I’ve never known Samuel to be the jealous type, though. Or hasty in his judgment. Something else must be at work here.”

  Annie thought back over his words, about her deserving someone younger, about his obligations to Rachel. But she couldn’t explain that to David—not without the tears spilling again.

  Instead, she reached forward and caressed the pup. “He’ll be all right here?”

  “Ya, it’s plenty warm, and Reba won’t be able to hear him from the main part of the barn. It’ll be a nice surprise.”

  “Danki,” Annie said softly, then stood and stumbled out into the December day. It seemed less bright now, though of course it wasn’t. The sun still shone in the sky.

  Christmas Eve.

  Where had all the hope and joy of Christmas gone?

  Climbing up into the buggy, she headed down the lane, toward the Smuckers. If she could do nothing here, perhaps she could do some small good there.

  This time, when Annie pulled up in front of the Smucker home, no one stepped out on the front porch to greet her.

  Actually, it looked like no one was in the house, though laundry did hang from the line.

  She also noticed Mr. Smucker working out beside the barn.

  Might as well knock on the door, though. She’d driven this far.

  Sharon answered the door after her second knock. The girl appeared to have gained a bit of weight in the short time since Annie had seen her.

  “Annie, I didn’t expect you to come by today.”

  “I was thinking of you,” Annie replied honestly. “May I come in?”

  “Of course.” Sharon opened the door wider, then stood there as if unsure what to say next.

  Finally she offered, “My mamm went into town to pick up a few last-minute things for Christmas.”

  “That’s all right. Maybe you and I could visit a little while.”

  “Would you be needing to examine me again?” A look of concern passed over the young girl’s face, and Annie wondered again why the exams bothered her so.

  “No, Sharon. Not unless you’re feeling differently.”

  “Feel about the same—though my boppli seems to grow each day.” She placed her hand on top of her protruding stomach. “Don’t remember my mamm being so big with my little bruder.”

  Annie smiled, trying to put her at ease. “It’s different with everyone. Some women carry their babies to the front, so the stomach looks and feels larger. Other women carry their babies more to the back. They look smaller, but with the smallness comes more of a backache.”

  A genuine smile crossed Sharon’s face for the first time. “I’ll take the big stomach, then. What with the gas and the going to the bathroom so much, I don’t need a backache too.”

  They stood there for a moment, afternoon sunshine spilling into the living room, when the sound of a teakettle pierced the silence. “I was just making some hot tea. Can I make you a cup?”

  “That would be gut.” Annie followed her into the kitchen and resisted the urge to take out her patient book and start making notes. Sharon’s color was gut, she was moving around easily, and the gas and increased urination sounded normal enough.

  They settled across the table from one another, each holding a mug of hot tea.

  “How’s the knitting coming?”

  Sharon beamed at her now. “Wunderbaar. I had knitted before, but only scarves and small things. Since I haven’t…” she stumbled, pushed on, “left the house, I’ve had a lot of time to learn how to make booties, caps, even little sweaters. I’m actually becoming quite talented with the knitting needles.”

  Annie’s temper rose toward Mr. Smucker for not allowing Sharon to leave the house. She tamped it down and focused on Sharon. “It’s gut you’re using your time well. The baby will be here before you know it.”

  “Ya.” The young girl gazed down into her tea, took a tentative sip. “That’s where Mamm is now. In town buying more yarn… and things.” She pulled her bottom lip in, worried it, then glanced out the window at the bright sunny day. When the tears began to spill over, she pushed away from the table, mumbled “Excuse me,” and fled.

  Annie waited for a few minutes, then rose and rinsed out the glasses. When Sharon still didn’t return, she became concerned and went in search of her.

  She walked back to the room she’d examined her in, stopped at the door standing slightly ajar. Soft sobs from the other side tore at her heart.

  She knocked lightly, then pushed the door open.

  Sharon lay on her side, facing the wall.

  “May I come in? I don’t want to intrude, but I’d like to make sure you’re all right before I leave.”

  “I’m fine,” Sharon mumbled.

  Annie entered the room, sat on the side of the bed. “It’s normal to be emotional while you’re pregnant. Faith Blauch told me she cried enough to fill up a milking pail the two weeks before little Noah was born.”

  Sharon sniffled, rubbed her nose against the arm of her dress. “What would Faith have to cry about? Faith has a husband.”

  Reaching forward and pulling Sharon’s hair back away from her face, Annie wondered how to answer that—she recognized it for what it was.

  A heart’s cry.

  “Is that what this is about? You having no husband?”

  Sharon didn’t answer, but her crying lessened a bit.

  “I don’t know your situation, Sharon. I don’t know how you arrived at this point or what happened before today, but I do know one thing. The boppli growing inside you is a miracle— one I’m eiferich about. One you will love and your family will love.”

  Still sniffling, Sharon sat up, her back against the headboard, her legs—which Annie could now see were a bit swollen— propped up on the mattress. “Do you truly believe that?”

  “I do, every word of it.”

  Sharon stared at her a minute, and Annie knew she was being sized up, realized Sharon was making a decision. Finally she sighed, reached for a handkerchief on the little table between the two beds, and said, “I didn’t imagine it being this way.”

  “Being pregnant?”

  She shook her head, then waved her hand at the bassinet sitting at the foot of her bed. “This. Life. When I started seeing Keith, he said he loved me. He acted different from Amish boys—exciting and different.”

  Plucking at the bedspread, she didn’t look up for a few seconds. When she did, Annie thought the tears pooling in her eyes would spill again. Instead, she raised her chin, stared out into the hall. Something like a shiver passed over her.

  “What are you thinking of now, Sharon?”

  “It’s nothing.” Her voice grew smaller. “It doesn’t matter.” “It might make you feel better if you told someone, though, and if you asked I would keep it between the two of us.”

  Sharon looked at her then as though Annie might offer the one road back to a place she longed to be. “I didn’t want to. He said it wouldn’t hurt, said all the Englisch girls did. He said if I cared about him I would.”
>
  Annie waited, her heart hammering. Waited though she knew what Sharon’s next words would be.

  “Still I couldn’t, because it’s against our ways. Seeing an Englisch boy was one thing, but being with one in such a way—I knew it was wrong.” The tears spilled now, but just two of them, as if a sacrifice of two tears to his memory was plenty.

  “Then he went away for a time. He said it was with his work, but I think he meant to punish me. When he came back, I wanted him to stay. Wanted to show him I did care about him, so I… I did what he asked.” She rubbed her stomach, not really talking to Annie any longer. “Only twice, but I suppose that’s all it took.”

  Annie reached out, covered Sharon’s hand with her own.

  “When he went away the second time, he didn’t come back.” Sharon glanced down, her gaze locking on Annie’s hand over hers. When she looked up, the tears were gone. “And you know what?”

  “What, Sharon?”

  “I don’t want to see him either. I can do this. I can do this on my own.”

  “But you don’t have to do this on your own, sweetie. Because you’re surrounded by people who care about you.”

  “Even my father?” Her words were sharp like a stone.

  “Even your father. Our dats might have a hard time accepting some things, and they might have difficulty when life curves away from the road Amish normally take, but Sharon, never doubt your father loves you. Give him time. Pray for him. I know this is going to work out fine.”

  She enfolded the girl in a hug, left her there to nap, then quietly left the house.

  Annie had the maturity to walk away and let things be, but Phillip Smucker picked that moment to walk from his barn to his house.

  He looked up, saw her, and stopped.

  Annie thought for a moment he might turn and walk back into the barn, but he didn’t. He nodded once and kept walking toward the house. “Annie,” he said.

  “Mr. Smucker.” She waited there by her buggy, thinking he would pause at least to inquire why she was there. When he headed toward the porch steps instead, she moved in front of him. “I’d like to talk to you about Sharon.”

  “I’ve nothing to say.” He met her gaze when he said it, then looked away.