An Amish Wife for Christmas

by Patricia Davids

  A sly grin curved Gemma’s lips. “What if this backfires and he does like me better?”

  “Then I will be happy for both of you and you can name your first daughter after me.”

  Gemma laughed and returned to setting the table. Bethany resisted the urge to look out the window again. It was possible Michael had made his way to the cabin without her seeing him, but she hoped he would at least stop by and let her know he had taken possession.

  The rumble of a car announced the arrival of Pastor Frank. Bethany went to the front door to greet him and saw Michael turning in from the highway in a small cart pulled by a black-and-white pony. To her chagrin, he simply waved and went past the house on the track that led to the cabin. She tried not to let her disappointment show. She stepped aside to allow Frank to enter the house and closed the door against the chilly afternoon. It was clear Michael wasn’t eager to see her again.

  * * *

  After seeing Bethany’s smile fade when he drove past her home, Michael almost changed his mind and went back. Almost. His best course of action was to see as little of her as possible. Out of sight, out of mind. He hoped. While he found her attractive, he couldn’t offer her anything but a business partnership. To encourage anything else would be grossly unfair.

  The cabin he had rented was set back in a small grove of trees up the hillside behind her place. As she had promised, the road up to it was well marked and had been plowed recently.

  A small weathered barn came with the cabin and he stopped Jesse’s pony beside it. A quick tour proved it would be enough for his two buggy horses and his buggy when he got one. The only drawback to the property was the steep hillside behind the barn. With his bum leg he’d never be able to get down to the bottom and lead his horses back up when he turned them out to pasture in the summer. He unharnessed the pony and led him inside to a roomy stall. Jesse had supplied Michael with enough hay and horse chow to last him a week.

  He moved the horse feed inside and left the hay in the back of the small wagon. He was thankful to see a water pump stood near the barn. It would make keeping the animals watered easier even in the winter.

  As he was heading to the cabin with his duffel bag over his shoulder, he saw the dog come trotting up the road. She had followed him from town as he’d hoped she would. He had tried to coax her into the cart, but she’d refused to have anything to do with it even after he lifted her into the bed. “You’re a good girl. I’m glad to see you made it.”

  She ignored him and went to explore in the barn. Michael put his bag down on the porch and tried to open the door. It was locked. He was sure Bethany had told him it would be unlocked. He tried again to make sure the door wasn’t just stuck but it wasn’t.

  He made his way to the back door with difficulty. The snow was deep enough in places to leave him unsure of his footing. If not for his cane and the wall of the cabin, he would have fallen several times. After all his struggles he found the back door was locked, as well. He could see that it had been opened recently by the arch of snow that had been pushed aside. A trail of footprints led from the stoop up the hill into woods. They were small footprints, those of a woman or a child.

  Making his way back to the front porch was easier. The dog was sitting by the door waiting for him. He looked at the house below him on the hillside. It seemed he would have to face Bethany after all to get the key. He made his way down the road and knocked on her front door.

  Chapter Five

  The moment Bethany opened her door Michael knew he was in trouble. Her bright smile and the eagerness in her eyes pushed at the mental wall he had erected to keep people from getting too close.

  He didn’t want to shut her out. He wanted to be worthy of the friendliness she seemed so willing to share.

  “You have decided to join us, after all. Come in, Michael. Please have a seat.” She stepped aside and gestured for him to enter.

  He shook his head. “I’m not here to eat.”

  Disappointment replaced the eagerness in her eyes. “Oh? What can I do for you, then?”

  She moved back and he stepped inside. The dog squeezed in to stay at his side. Bethany frowned slightly but didn’t say anything.

  The house was typical of the Amish houses he’d seen all his life. From the entryway a door to his right led directly into the kitchen. Beautiful pine cabinets lined the walls. The floor was covered with a checkerboard pattern of black-and-white linoleum. The windows had simple white pull-down shades instead of curtains. The delicious aromas of Bethany’s home-cooked meal filled the air. His stomach growled.

  He resisted the urge to stay and make her smile again. “The cabin is locked. I can’t get in.”

  Bethany cocked her head slightly. “Are you sure? Maybe the door is just stuck.”

  “I’m sure. The back door is locked, too.”

  “Why does he need in the cabin?” Ivan demanded, scowling at Michael.

  Bethany gave her brother a sharp look. “Michael is going to be living there. Daadi rented the place to him. Do you know anything about the cabin being locked?”

  “I don’t know why you’re asking me,” Ivan snapped. “Every time something goes wrong I get blamed.” He pushed to his feet and rushed out of the room.

  Color blossomed in Bethany’s cheeks as she glanced at her guests. “I apologize for Ivan’s behavior. I thought he was doing better. Jenny, did you lock the cabin?”

  Jenny shook her head, making the ribbons of her kapp dance on her shoulders. “I play there sometimes with Ivan and Jeffrey, but I didn’t lock the door.”

  Bethany met Michael’s gaze but quickly looked away. “I believe there is a spare key in Grandfather’s bedroom. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go find it. It may take me a moment or two. I’m not sure where Daadi kept it.”

  The dog suddenly left Michael’s side. He made a grab for her and missed. “Mutt, get back here.”

  She ignored him and went to investigate the new people in the room. She gave the young Amish woman and the Englisch fellow at the table a brief sniff, then rounded the far end. Jenny had her hands out. The dog settled her head in Jenny’s lap and looked up with soulful adoring eyes as the girl scratched her behind her ears.

  “What a beautiful dog.” Jenny stroked her soft fur. “I think she likes me.”

  Michael walked over and took hold of a length of black nylon webbing Jesse had fashioned into a makeshift collar. “I’m afraid she hasn’t learned any manners.”

  “What’s her name?” Jenny asked.

  “Mutt.” He still wasn’t sure he would keep her, although she seemed to have attached herself to him. Maybe she would like Jenny better and stay here.

  The slender man in Englisch clothing rose to his feet. “Mutt is not much of a name but it’s better than Cat. I’m Pastor Frank Pearson. You can call me Frank.” He swept a hand toward the young Amish woman seated across from him. “This is Bethany’s friend Gemma Lapp and you must be Michael Shetler.”

  The pastor held out his hand. Meeting new people made Michael uneasy. He rubbed his sweaty palm on his pant leg before taking the man’s hand in a firm grip. “I take it you are the chess player.”

  Frank’s expression brightened. “I am. Do you play?”

  “Now and again.”

  “We’ll have to arrange a match someday. I’m sorry you didn’t get to meet Elijah. He was a true master of the game. He told me quite a bit about you.”

  Michael grew cold. “Is that so? I don’t know what he could have told you. We never met.”

  The pastor’s expression didn’t change. “He said you came highly recommended by an old friend of his. I believe it was George Meyers and that you grew up near Sugarcreek in Ohio. My grandmother was from the Sugarcreek area, but she left many years ago. Please, have a seat.”

  It had been a long day and Michael just wanted to get settled in a place of his own. He
accepted the invitation mainly because his leg was aching.

  “Would you like some kaffi?” Gemma asked.

  He nodded. She rose and brought him a cup and saucer with three pale yellow cookies on the plate. “These are lemon crinkles. My specialty. I hope you like them.”

  “Danki.” The coffee was black and bracing. The cookies were light, tart and delicious.

  “You can’t call her Mutt,” Jenny said from the other end of the table.

  “Why don’t you name her?” Gemma suggested.

  Jenny peered into the dog’s eyes. “I’m going to call you Sadie Sue. Do you like that name?”

  The dog barked once and everyone laughed.

  “That settles it,” Michael said. “She is now and forever Sadie Sue.”

  “How are the cookies?” Gemma gave Michael a smile every bit as sweet as the pastry.

  “They’re delicious. They remind me of the ones my grandmother used to make.” He prayed Bethany would hurry up before he was subjected to more questions. She came back in the room a few seconds later.

  “Found it.” She held the key aloft.

  Michael grimaced as he stood and leaned heavily on the table. He had been sitting just long enough for his leg to stiffen. When the sharp pain subsided he picked up his cane.

  “Are you all right?” Bethany asked, reaching a hand toward him.

  Her sympathy irritated him. He hated when people treated him as if they expected him to topple over at any second. “I’m fine.”

  “How were you injured?” Gemma asked softly.

  His throat tightened. He couldn’t draw a full breath. The walls of the house started to close in. He needed to get outside. “I’ve got to get going.”

  He saw the confusion in Bethany’s eyes, but nothing mattered except getting enough air. He pushed past her and went out the door. On the porch he stopped to scan the yard and outbuildings for signs of danger. Was someone lurking in the woods beyond the road? He took a step to the side and backed up to the wall of the house so that no one could get behind him. Sadie followed him out and sat at his side, nuzzling his hand. He stroked her head.

  After a few deep breaths of the cold air, Michael’s panic receded. It was okay. There wasn’t any danger. He took one step away from the safety of Bethany’s house and then another, glad to escape without having her watch him fall apart.

  * * *

  Gemma propped her elbow on the table with her chin in her hand. “Did that seem odd to anyone else?”

  Bethany had to admit Gemma was right. “He acted like he couldn’t get out of here fast enough.”

  “I hope it wasn’t my cookies.” Gemma sat back and folded her arms across her chest.

  Pastor Frank took a sip of his coffee. “I don’t think it was anything we said or did. Michael has been through a rough time.”

  Bethany turned to Frank. “What do you know about him?”

  “Only a few things that your grandfather shared with me. I don’t feel it’s my place to repeat what was said.”

  Gemma arched one eyebrow. “Okay, now you’ve made me curious.”

  Frank smiled but he shook his head. “Many people tell me things in confidence. I take that responsibility seriously. I think it’s enough to say that Michael came to New Covenant seeking privacy and a chance to heal in body and mind.”

  “Is there anything we can do for him?” Bethany asked.

  “We can invite him to our Thanksgiving dinner,” Gemma suggested. “He shouldn’t spend the holiday alone.”

  Pastor Frank nodded. “Good idea. Treat him like you would anyone else. Be friendly, be kind, be compassionate, don’t pry. I suspect he will discover soon enough if he truly belongs here.”

  Gemma rolled her eyes. “One winter was enough to convince me I didn’t belong here. I don’t mind snow, but when it gets so deep you can’t see the cows standing out in it, that’s too much snow.”

  Bethany chuckled. “And yet here you are facing another winter in northern Maine.”

  “I can’t. What would you do without me?”

  “I honestly don’t know,” Bethany admitted. Gemma was a dear friend and she would miss her terribly if she ever left New Covenant.

  “Gemma, will you serve the peach pie and ice cream for me? I must speak with Ivan. His behavior tonight was not acceptable.” Bethany braced herself for a verbal battle with Ivan as she climbed the stairs to his bedroom. She knocked softly. He didn’t answer.

  She opened the door and discovered he wasn’t in his room. Her conversation with him would have to wait but it would take place. He wasn’t getting out of it this easily. She checked the other rooms and the attic, knowing he sometimes liked to hide in those places, but she didn’t find him.

  When Bethany came downstairs she joined the others and enjoyed a slice of pie and ice cream. When everyone was finished, Gemma began clearing the table.

  Pastor Frank patted his stomach. “That was a very good meal. Invite me more often, Bethany.”

  She summoned a smile. “Come anytime. I’ll feed you.”

  He laughed as he rose and got ready to leave. She handed him his gloves after he finished buttoning his coat. “I’m glad you came tonight, Frank. We have missed your company.”

  “I’m glad I came, too. What did Ivan have to say for himself?”

  She clasped her hands together. “He wasn’t in his room. He must have slipped out the back door. What am I going to do with him?”

  “He’s a troubled boy. All you can do is show him you care about him, give him the opportunity to confide in you and pray he finds the courage to tell you what’s bothering him.”

  “I know he doesn’t want to be sent to live with our uncle. I had hoped learning that he only has until Christmas to mend his ways would be incentive enough.”

  “Unfortunately, it may only add to the pressure he’s under.”

  “Will you talk to him?”

  “As a family friend or in my official capacity as a psychologist? Would your bishop approve of that?”

  Bethany squeezed her fingers together tightly. She wasn’t sure but she was willing to risk more of the bishop’s disapproval. “I think he would allow it but I’m asking as a friend.”

  “Then I will be happy to see Ivan. Bring him by my home any day after school this week. If he’ll come.”

  “I will do that.”

  He started out the door but stopped and looked back. “One more thing. Will you give a message to Michael Shetler for me?”

  “Of course.”

  “Tell him my door is always open if he needs someone to talk to. That’s all. Good night.”

  “I’ll tell him. Good night, Frank.” Bethany closed the door behind him. What did Frank know about Michael’s past that he felt he couldn’t share with her?

  * * *

  Michael unlocked the front door of the cabin and stepped inside. Instantly he knew someone had been there before him. The back door was open a crack. He was sure it had been locked earlier. He crossed the room and closed the door, uneasy at the thought of someone having access. His anxiety level climbed as he thought about trying to sleep in an unsecured place. He thanked God for the dog at his side. A dead bolt and new locks for the doors were a must first thing in the morning.

  The dog stayed by his side as he searched the building. Her calm attitude reassured him that the visitor was long gone. The place was neat and cozy. The cabin was a single room with a tiny kitchen in one corner. A bump out beyond the kitchen contained a modern bathroom with a shower and a propane hot water heater. Two big windows on the south wall let in plenty of evening light. A metal bed frame in the far corner held a bare mattress with a sleeping bag on it. A glance around the room gave him the impression that someone visited often. There were empty food wrappers and several magazines beside the fireplace. Perhaps Ivan and Jenny played here. H
e walked back to pick up his bag near the front door.

  Glass shattered, startling him. Michael saw two boys through the broken window before his leg gave out and he hit the floor. Instantly, he was back in the jewelry store, in the middle of the robbery. He had to get out. He crawled toward the door and pulled it open, expecting another bullet. Someone was screaming. Sirens grew closer. Red lights flashed on the ceiling overhead. The smell of gunpowder choked him.

  A dog started barking. There hadn’t been a dog there that night. He tried to concentrate on the sound. The dog was real. The rest was a nightmare, so realistic he could hear the robbers’ voices, he could see their mask-covered faces, he felt the impact of the bullet and the burning pain in his leg. He kept crawling to get away from them.

  “Mister, are you okay?”

  The new voice, like the barking dog, wasn’t a part of the past. Michael struggled to focus on it. Bethany’s brother was kneeling beside him. He didn’t want anybody to see him like this. “Go away.”

  “I’m going to go get help.” The boy jumped to his feet and ran toward the house down the hill. Michael crawled after Ivan but couldn’t stop him.

  Not Bethany. Don’t bring Bethany.

  It was his last thought before the nightmare sucked him back into the past and made him relive the unbearable. He screamed in pain as a bullet shattered his thigh. He wept as his coworkers were murdered one by one. The wail of sirens grew louder. He knew he was next.

  “Michael, can you hear me?”

  Another voice not from the past.

  “Don’t shoot,” Michael begged, but the gunshots came again and again. He jerked each time.

  “Can you tell me what’s wrong? Are you hurt?” The different voice was insistent. Michael tried to hold on to it. He reached out his hand. Someone took hold of it.

  “It’s Pastor Frank Pearson. We just met. What’s wrong, Michael?”

  “He’s killing them. He’s killing them all. Don’t shoot.”

  “Michael, I want you to listen to me. You’re safe. No one is shooting. You’re in Bethany’s cabin in Maine. No one can hurt you here. You’re safe. Michael, you’re safe.”