by Erica Vetsch
The old man nodded. “And perhaps we could discourage Kate from needing to help with the chores.”
Oscar sensed he had an ally. “Exactly. I already told her I would see to her cheeses, though I’ll be glad when this last batch is done being turned and such and can just sit there on the shelf and ripen. I don’t want her on those open cellar stairs by herself.” He helped Liesl, who was struggling to pull a chair up to the washtub, lifting her to stand on the seat.
Inge set a plate of oatmeal cookies on the table. She had an apprehensive bend to her eyebrows, and a tentative look in her brown eyes.
“Herr Rabb...” Her voice was meek as she refilled his coffee cup.
“Please, call me Oscar.”
“Oscar, there is something I would like to ask.” She fingered the knot of the kerchief she often wore over her snowy hair.
Kate stirred, blinked a few times and yawned, stretching. She spied them through the pocket doors, and pushed herself up. He frowned. Her nap hadn’t been long enough.
She came into the kitchen, bracing her hands against her lower back. “I’m sorry. I must’ve dozed off.”
“Daddy,” Liesl said, plopping teaspoons into the wash water. “Grossmutter says we can have an Advent window here in our house, if you say it’s all right. The big one in the parlor. On day sixteen.” Liesl hopped on her toes, her braids bouncing on her shoulders. “And then people from town will come, and we will have good food and music and singing.”
He paused, a cookie halfway to his mouth.
“I don’t think Grossmutter meant to tell your daddy so suddenly, sweetling.” Kate cupped Liesl’s head. “Oscar, the ladies were organizing the Advent tour. The Amakers have always taken one of the days, and Mrs. Tipford thought, since we were staying here, you wouldn’t mind if we took our turn using your front window.”
Oscar was familiar with the Advent tour. When Gaelle was alive, their house had been one of the stops. But that had ended two Christmases ago, and he had no desire to resume the tradition. If they wanted to plan the town events and go to every single one, he wouldn’t stop them, but he refused to be included.
Liesl hopped off her chair and came to lean into Kate’s side, looking up. “Tell me again what happens to the window?”
Kate sat herself at the table, and put her arm around the child. “Every day, beginning December first, people decorate their front window for Christmas. Pine boughs, paper chains, strings of beads, paper stars, whatever they think will look pretty.” Her eyes had a faraway look, remembering. “Each evening, visitors go to the next house on the list, singing and eating good food and sharing the Christmas season. One after another, houses are visited, until it is Christmas Eve night.”
“What happens then?” Liesl’s eyes were round, and her lips parted in anticipation.
“On that night, we all gather in the center of town, and the children of the town carry lovely stars they have made, and they sing songs about the Baby Jesus coming to earth to be our Savior. They walk through the town, sharing the Good News. Then we meet at the church for the Christmas Eve service, and afterward there will be hot chocolate and Christmas goodies.”
“And we all go home to wait for Christmas Day!” Liesl clapped, bouncing and grinning. “And there are presents and good food and the Christmas story.”
“Yes, and family and being thankful for all God’s blessings, especially sending us Jesus to be our Savior.” She smoothed Liesl’s hair and gave her a squeeze.
Oscar swallowed the last of his coffee, forcing down bitter thoughts. Christmas wasn’t a time of thankfulness and family for him. It was a huge reminder of his loss. And now his house was going to be on the Advent tour? He should put his foot down, insist that they keep his place off the list. It was one thing to let Inge make some Christmas food, and for Kate to help him with a gift for Liesl, but to have half the town visit? To be expected to visit them? Because he couldn’t have them come to his place and not reciprocate.
No, he wouldn’t do it.
Kate rubbed her stomach. Was the baby moving around in there? She leaned over and dropped a kiss on Liesl’s head, a gesture so natural it stunned him.
He was reminded that she had been nothing but gracious to his rambunctious daughter, answering her thousand questions every hour, teaching her through example, always kind. At a time when no one would blame her at all if she was concerned with nothing but her own future, she was trying to make things better for her family, and his.
She cast him a glance, and with a guilty start, she dropped her arm from around Liesl.
He’d told her to keep her distance and not let his daughter get too attached.
With the way Liesl was looking up at Kate right now, it was probably too late.
Chapter Eight
“What about this one?” Kate held up a length of pale blue fabric scattered with yellow flowers.
Liesl pursed her lips, tapping them with one finger, so serious Kate wanted to laugh. “No. That’s not it.”
“Well, sweetling, we’re just about out of choices. And time. You need to make up your mind.” Kate moved aside the blue calico while Mrs. Hale waited behind the counter to cut the fabric once they reached a decision. Oscar and Grossvater would be returning for them soon, and Grossmutter already had her foodstuffs purchased and ready to go.
Still, Liesl dithered, touching one fabric after another, doubt in her eyes. She’d chosen several already, but those were for everyday dresses. This one was supposed to be for her new Christmas dress.
At last, her hand dropped, and her chin lowered. Before Kate knew what was happening, a fat, glistening tear rolled down Liesl’s cheek and splashed on the floor.
“What is it, sweetling?” Kate wished she could kneel easily so she could look the child in the eye. Spying a ladder-back chair by the door, she took Liesl’s hand, drawing her along. When Kate was seated, she wrapped the girl in her arms, kissing her head. “Sometimes there are so many choices we get overwhelmed, don’t we? It’s all right.”
Liesl burrowed her head into Kate’s shoulder, hiccupping sobs forcing themselves out of her throat.
“Are there just too many choices?” Kate asked.
“No-o-o-o.”
Patting her back, rocking her slightly, she rested her cheek on Liesl’s hair. “What is it, then?”
The bell over the door jangled, and a gust of cold air came in with Oscar. Kate took the ends of her cloak and wrapped them around Liesl, who continued to cry.
“What’s wrong?” Oscar dropped to one knee, his big hand covering his daughter’s back. “Is she hurt?”
Kate shook her head. Liesl tugged away from her and launched herself into Oscar’s arms, sobbing into his neck. He held her close, rising to his feet, and Kate stood, too, feeling a failure. How had a shopping expedition for a Christmas dress turned into a crying child?
Oscar hugged her close and whispered in her ear, swaying slightly. “Shh, just tell me what’s wrong.”
“I...don’t...want...a...Christmas...dress.” The sobs nearly strangled the words, but she got them out.
“Why not, Poppet? I thought you wanted a pink dress with blue flowers.”
“You said I could only make one wish for Christmas.” She straightened in his arms, her face tear-streaked. “If I can only have one wish, I want a baby, not a dress.”
Oscar’s eyes met Kate’s over Liesl’s head, wide and a bit panicked. So Liesl hadn’t been deterred by thoughts of a pretty dress. She still wanted a baby.
Kate dug in her reticule and drew out her handkerchief. She stepped close, dabbing at Liesl’s wet cheeks, aware that Mrs. Hale was hearing every word and that Oscar had no idea what to say.
“Sweetling, you don’t know what you’re asking. Babies aren’t something you can just ask for as a Christmas present. A book or a
toy or a new dress, yes, but not a baby.”
Liesl frowned, drawing back. “But I have been praying, every night. Daddy, you said Jesus hears and answers our prayers.”
Kate turned away, smothering her smile, not wanting Liesl to think she was laughing at her. Ah, the faith of a child.
Oscar puffed out his cheeks. “Poppet, that’s true. Jesus does hear and answer our prayers, but sometimes, the answer is no.” He leaned his forehead down to touch hers. “And that’s what I am telling you. No. You cannot have a real baby for Christmas. I know you don’t understand.” He put his hand gently on her lips to stifle the protests coming. “But someday you will. For now, you need to trust me. Is there something else you would like for Christmas instead?”
Her brown eyes swam with tears, and her chin quivered, making Kate’s heart break. “No, Daddy.” She buried her face in his shoulder again.
“All right.” He cradled her head, a frustrated tilt to his mouth.
Grossvater stepped into the store, bundled to the eyes in a coat and scarf. He tugged down the muffler. “Are we ready?”
Buttoning her coat, Inge nodded. Kate raised her brows to Oscar. “We got a few yardages cut, enough to start on the wardrobe you asked for.”
He nodded. “You go ahead. Liesl and I will be along in a moment.”
Mr. Hale accompanied them, carrying the groceries, and Kate took the paper-wrapped bundle of fabric and notions from Mrs. Hale with a tight smile. Outside, the cold wind took her breath away. It had snowed overnight, a few inches, and now the snow lay in hard-packed ridges and drifts, while some areas were blown clear of snow altogether by the brisk wind.
“Today I can believe that Christmas is only six weeks away.” Inge tugged on her mittens.
“All set.” Mr. Hale put the box of groceries into the wagon bed. “See you folks on Sunday if the weather holds.”
Kate clambered up over the front wheel, and when she got into the wagon, she felt a pang along her side. Gasping, she pressed her hand to her abdomen.
“You are all right, Kate?” Martin asked, helping his wife get settled on the board seat in the back.
She winced, rubbing her side. “Yes, just a twinge.” Forcing a smile, she eased down onto the wagon seat and turned. “Nothing to worry about.”
Inge nodded. “The baby has not so much room now.”
Not much at all. Another six weeks seemed a long time, and yet it was rushing by, too.
Oscar and Liesl emerged from the store, and Liesl had a happier look on her face. Oscar carried a large, paper-wrapped bundle, and Liesl had a smaller one clutched in her hands. After placing their things in the back of the wagon, Oscar swung Liesl aboard. She hurried to sit between Martin and Inge on the board seat.
“What have you got there, little one?” Martin asked.
“It’s a surprise.” She held the little package primly in her lap.
“Ah,” he said, his eyes twinkling. “Surprises can be fun.”
Kate turned to face forward. Surprises could be fun, though not always.
“It is a good thing,” Martin continued, “that God is never surprised, though. He always knows everything. What we are thinking, what we are feeling, what has happened in our lives and what is going to happen. We do not need to fret or worry, because God is never surprised.”
“But He can surprise us from time to time.” Oscar slapped the lines and chirruped to the team.
Kate nodded. This entire last year had been one surprise after another, and not many of them what she would consider good. But, she reminded herself, God was good, and He wasn’t surprised, and she would trust, because He had never failed her.
When they arrived back at Oscar’s home, Kate couldn’t help but wonder at the sense of comfort walking into the farmhouse gave her. She felt more at ease here than she’d thought possible after that first, awkward night and morning when Oscar had made it clear he was uneasy having them there.
What about now? Would he be relieved to have them gone? To have his house back? No more trips to town for errands that were not his, no more extra chores, no more people cluttering up his life?
Kate untied her cloak slowly, realizing that whether he would miss them or not, she would definitely miss him and Liesl. Oscar might be a man of few words, but his actions spoke volumes. He had denied them nothing they needed and given them much that they did not.
Liesl marched into the room, the bobble on top of her hat wobbling as she ran to the parlor and put her “surprise” packet onto the ottoman. She shrugged out of her little plaid coat, dropping it on the floor.
“Miss Liesl.” Kate looked at the coat.
“Oh, I forgot.” She brought the garment to Kate to hang by the door.
They stepped out of the way as Martin and Oscar brought in the packages and boxes. Grossmutter was already at the stove, stirring up the fire. She dipped water into the kettle.
“Some hot tea will warm us up.”
“Can I have cammic tea again?” Liesl climbed onto a chair and began removing foodstuffs from the carton.
“Of course, Schätzchen.” Grossmutter brushed her hand over Liesl’s hair. Kate loved the bond growing between those two. Having the high-spirited little girl around had helped take Grossmutter’s mind off their troubles.
Oscar carried in the package of dress goods. “Where would you like this?”
Kate took it. “I’ll put it in the parlor for now.” She’d wait until the kitchen was clear to spread out fabric and begin cutting out dresses, pinafores and nightgowns for Liesl. It still bothered her that the child had been so upset about a Christmas dress. What else might they give to her that would make her happy?
Martin sat at the table, his shoulders hunched. His cough was a bit better, though he still looked tired. The medicine Dr. Horlock had sent helped, but what he really needed was a long rest without worries.
Oscar returned from putting up the team, and he carried one more package. Shrugging out of his black coat, he dropped it onto a hook and set the paper-wrapped bundle on the end of the table.
“Can we do it now, Daddy?” Liesl asked.
Oscar smiled at the little girl as she hopped on her toes. Kate marveled at how quickly her moods could change.
“Let me get warmed up first, Poppet. The surprise will keep for a few more minutes.” He pulled up a chair and sat, taking the cup Grossmutter handed him.
“Look, Daddy. I have cammic tea.”
“Just what is ‘cammic’ tea, anyway?” He looked into her mug.
Kate smiled. “I believe she means cambric tea. It’s tea and milk.” Mostly milk, in fact. “I remember when my mother first gave me cambric tea. When the church ladies came over for a quilting bee. I felt quite grown up drinking tea with the ladies.”
“Where is your family now?” Oscar asked.
She rubbed her belly as the baby thumped her side. “My parents passed away when I was fourteen. I lived with my mother’s aunt until I married, and she’s gone now, too. Martin and Inge are my family now.”
He looked thoughtfully at her, and she felt her cheeks heating for some odd reason. She wanted to smooth her hair and fuss with her collar, find something to do with her hands. So strange.
Martin set his cup down. “I had a letter from my brother.” He reached into his sheepskin-lined vest and pulled out an envelope.
Inge’s lips trembled, and the lines on Martin’s face grew deeper. He handed the envelope to Kate. “Would you read it, please?”
Oscar lifted Liesl into his lap. “Do you want some privacy? We can go into the other room.”
“It is all right. I have read the letter, and you will need to know what it says.”
Kate took the envelope, drawing the pages out with a sense of foreboding. She smoothed the papers out on the table. The letter had been
written with a bold, clear hand, easily legible.
“Martin,
“I hope you got my telegram. You did not send an answer, so I am following with this letter.
“Too bad about your house, but maybe it is for the best. Father never wanted you to leave Cincinnati in the first place to take up farming. After we broke our backs farming in Switzerland, he wanted better for us in America. I know you always hated the tannery, but it looks like you need it in the end. Though you are old enough now, you should be thinking of retiring. I am not sure what good you will be in the factory, but I will find something.”
Kate looked up, hurt and angry for Martin. His brother, many years his junior, sounded so unfeeling, unkind. As if it were a foregone conclusion that Martin would fail as a farmer and have to return to the family business.
Martin looked into his tea mug, and Inge rested her hand on his forearm.
Kate continued reading.
“I will not have a place for you to stay until after the new year. The factory janitor is retiring, and I suppose you can have his position. The job comes with a two-room apartment at the back of the factory as part of the wages. I know you said you had your grandson’s wife with you. Is she needing a job, too? I’m not running a charity here, Martin. She will have to live with you in the rooms I can provide, or she’ll have to find a place of her own. It’s one thing to help out my old brother, but my great-nephew’s relict? That’s asking a bit much.
“Can you manage the train fare to get here? If not, I suppose I can advance you the money against your wages. Still, you have the farm to sell and the livestock. That should bring in enough to get you here, even if you have to split it with the widow.”
He signed the letter “Victor.”
Kate let the pages fall to the table. This was the man upon whose mercy they were to throw themselves? Someone who only reluctantly would give his aging brother a janitor’s job and a pair of rooms in a tannery? Someone who had no sympathy, no thought for how hard it would be to leave their home?
Someone who clearly didn’t want her as part of the arrangement?
