by Erica Vetsch
“Lookit, Daddy.” Liesl stood behind him, hanging on his shoulder and pointing. “It’s the Advent window.” Her voice held awe and anticipation.
Sure enough, the large window on the front porch stood open, and Mrs. Tipford leaned out, handing mugs to folks milling on the porch. Greenery framed the opening, and a pair of lamps sat on small tables on the porch to illuminate the area.
Liesl hopped and tugged. “Can we get down? I want to see.”
“Patience, Poppet. You’ll get your turn.” He wrapped the reins around the brake handle and leaped to the ground. “Let me help Miss Kate first.”
He reached up for her, and instead of assisting her to climb over the side, he carried her across the packed snow. She threw her arms around his neck, and gave a squeal of surprise. “Oscar!”
“Hold tight. We’ll be on the porch in a trice.” He went carefully, mindful of what a fall would do.
“You can’t carry me. I’m as big as a house.”
He raised his eyebrows. “A house?”
She swatted his shoulder. “You know what I mean. I’m perfectly capable of walking. I even promised to hold on to your arm when I was on the snow.”
“This is easier.” And, if he admitted it, nicer. She was a small woman, her pregnancy notwithstanding, and she wasn’t much of a burden. Her head rested briefly against the black wool of his coat, and a ripple of awareness went through him. He inhaled the scent of soap and lavender, a feminine combination that made his thinking a bit fuzzy.
“I’m going to be a spectacle, being carried around like an infant. What will folks say?” Her whisper brushed across his cheek.
“That you’re being well taken care of? That you have good sense in not risking a fall in your condition? Anyway, it’s nobody’s business but ours.”
She did draw some curious looks, but folks parted to allow him through, and others called greetings.
“Here you are.” He deposited her on the front steps. “Wait here. I’ll be back.”
He noted her flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes as he turned away. He’d definitely surprised her. And himself. He hadn’t planned on carrying her. It had just sprung into his mind at the last moment, and he’d done it.
She’d fallen asleep this afternoon almost as soon as he insisted she sit down for a moment, confirming his suspicions that she was tired and needed more rest. And she’d looked so peaceful, her hands resting on the mound of her unborn baby, her head tucked into the corner of the big chair, lashes fanning her cheeks.
Pretty as a picture.
He stopped in the snow on his way back to the wagon, guilt stomping hard through his chest. Digging under his coat, he found his pocket watch and flicked it open, tilting it to catch the moonlight.
Gaelle’s picture stared up at him, tucked into the lid of the watch, her eyes warm, looking right at him, her hair coiled high and falling in a cascade over her shoulder. She had given him the picture as an engagement present, cutting it to fit into his pocket watch so he would always have it close to him.
She was the love of his life, the only woman who would ever have his heart, and the only woman who should ever even have his notice. He loved her with everything in his being, and he had promised at her graveside that he would never love another.
And he had no intentions of going back on that promise.
Anyway, what woman would want him, when he would forever love Gaelle? He’d never ask a woman to take second best.
He glanced at the photograph once more before closing it and tucking it into his pocket. It was good to remind himself of his priorities. He’d made a promise to his dead wife, and he should focus his attention only on raising their daughter. His boots scrunched on the snow as he threaded his way back to the wagon.
Liesl all but flew into his arms as the elder Amakers climbed out of the wagon box. “Hurry, Daddy. I see children.”
A fist squeezed his heart. It had never occurred to him that she might be lonely for someone other than him to play with. Not until they had company in the house and he saw her blossom. “We’ll get there. You won’t miss anything.”
Mrs. Amaker carried the square box of cookies, tied up with a red ribbon. Her lined old face caught the light from the front windows, and Oscar was startled by the change that came over her. Her smile broadened, and a glow he’d never seen lit her expression. It was as if she’d shed ten years and a ton of burden. He began to see what Kate had meant about Inge Amaker’s love of the season and Kate’s desire to make this one extra special for her. They all walked up onto the porch.
“Happy Christmas, Mrs. Tipford.” Mrs. Amaker handed over the box. “Your home looks very...festive. Just what my heart needed today.”
Mrs. Tipford leaned far out over the sill and opened her arms to hug the older woman. “Ah, Inge, it is so good to see you smile. Happy Christmas. I can’t wait to see what you brought. You always make the best Christmas treats.”
“Happy Christmas, Mrs. Tipford,” Liesl recited as she had been practicing at home. Then she grinned and blew the pastor’s wife a kiss. Oscar’s brows rose. She wasn’t just emerging from her shell, she was exploding from it.
His eyes sought Kate, who stood off to the side, chatting with Mrs. Frankel, who held a blanket-wrapped baby. George had a toddler on his arm and his hand on the head of a boy of about four or five. Other Frankel children milled around, eating cookies, laughing and talking.
Per Schmidt and his family arrived, and Mrs. Schmidt carried a fruitcake on a platter. The thing looked like it weighed a good five pounds and was studded with fruit and nuts.
“Oscar, good to see you. We’re heading out to the hill behind the house for some nighttime tobogganing.” Pastor Tipford had a lantern and a pole. “Lots of folks brought their lanterns, so we should have plenty of light. It’s not much of a hill, but it works for the kids. You’ll come, right?”
Oscar looked at Liesl, still in his arms, wearing her plaid wool coat, her face surrounded with a white rabbit-fur trimmed hood. “Can we, Daddy?”
Her eyes pleaded with him, brown and deep and so like Gaelle’s it almost hurt. He didn’t want to toboggan. He didn’t want to pretend to be having a good time, and yet, he couldn’t disappoint her. She needed this, even if he wanted no part.
“Sure. I haven’t been on a toboggan since I was knee-high to a short horse.”
George came off the porch, several children in his wake. “We’ll come, too. The ladies said they’d get the hot chocolate heating up.”
As Oscar trudged through the snow, he wondered at how much his life could be turned upside down by giving one act of kindness...kindness that he’d been sort of coerced into. Offering a single night’s hospitality to a family in need had changed everything. For the last month, he’d done things he’d never anticipated, like making cheese, and giving his wife’s clothes to another woman, and attending church regularly, willingly doing laundry, and now a community function with more than a dozen families.
He missed his peaceful, quiet days where he had Liesl all to himself, didn’t he?
“Do you want to ride with me?” he asked his daughter.
“Yes. Can we go fast?”
So fearless. He hugged her and strode to the top of the hill to wait their turn. At intervals along the slope, townsmen had hung their lanterns on poles to light the path. There were a few sleds and toboggans to share, and with whoops and hollers, riders swept down the snowy track.
When it was their turn, Oscar put Liesl in front of him, settling her between his legs, and wrapping his arms around her. “Ready?”
“Go, Daddy!” She bounced on her seat.
He pushed off, and down they went, the night air like a cold rushing river against his face. As Pastor Tipford had said, it wasn’t a very long or very steep hill, just right for kids, and almost before they started
, they were at the bottom, piling off and laughing.
Liesl brushed her hair out of her face with her pale blue mittens, giggling.
“Can we go again, Daddy?”
One of the older Frankel girls came over and bent at the waist to talk to Liesl. “I’ll take you if you like. You can ride with Frannie and me.” She indicated her sister.
Liesl looked up at him. “Can I, Daddy?”
He looked up the hill, and then at her eager face. She shouldn’t come to any grief riding with the older girls. “You may. I’ll be here waiting when you come down.”
Liesl beamed and the elder of the girls offered her hand.
“I’m Nancy.”
“I’m Liesl.”
“I think you live across the road from us.”
They climbed the hill, Liesl’s laughter reaching him, and a piece of his heart cracked a bit. She was getting big, no doubt about it. His baby wasn’t a baby anymore. It was good that she was getting out and about, meeting people, but he hated the idea of sharing her.
“You look like you could use this.”
He turned. Kate stood there with a mug of hot chocolate.
“What are you doing out here? I thought you were staying on the porch.” He frowned.
“Relax. It’s a very short way, and Mr. Hale lent me his arm. I wanted to see the fun. It’s hard not to join in.” She lifted her delicate chin. “I’ll have you know, I’m a champion tobogganer, and if I wasn’t in my current state, I’d be racing to get to the top of that hill and have a ride.”
A laugh surprised him. “I imagine you would be. Good thing you’re grounded.” He took the mug. Even through his gloves, he felt the warmth of the hot chocolate. Mrs. Hale carried a steaming kettle, several coffee mugs hooked over her fingers, and Mrs. Tipford passed around plates of cookies. It seemed everyone had come to the base of the hill to watch the sledders.
When all the hot chocolate had been drunk and the last ride had been taken, Pastor Tipford gathered everyone together. “Friends, before we depart tonight, I want to thank you all for coming, and I think it appropriate that we pray and thank our Heavenly Father for this Advent season. Won’t you join me?”
Everyone formed a circle, joining hands. Kate put her red-mittened hand into Oscar’s palm, and Liesl took his other.
As the pastor prayed, disquiet rose in Oscar’s chest. It felt too right to be here. Too nice. He wanted to yank his hand away from Kate, scoop up Liesl and run to the safety of their home. He wanted to remember why he had withdrawn from the community two years ago. He didn’t want to celebrate a season that only punctuated his sense of loss and regret.
But he stood there in the snow, cheeks tingling with cold, holding a woman’s hand. A woman he admired for her courage, her resiliency, for her loyalty. A woman whom he couldn’t seem to get out of his thoughts.
He’d been worried about how Liesl would feel when the Amaker family left, but now he realized that he wouldn’t be unaffected himself.
Which made him feel all the more guilty.
What would Gaelle say?
Chapter Eleven
“I need you to promise, Daddy.” Liesl sat up in bed and took his face between her hands.
“I already said it was all right.” He took her hands in his and lowered her to her pillow. “Now, you’ve had a big night, and it’s time for sleep. Nobody will disturb your box under the sideboard.” Though why she cared about a cardboard box, he couldn’t imagine. But she did, and she was earnest about it. She had talked about it the entire ride home from the Tipfords’, surprising Oscar. He’d thought she’d fall asleep in the wagon after all the excitement of the day.
“You’ll make sure Miss Kate and Grossmutter and Grossvater know you’ve promised?” She let him tuck her arms under the blankets.
“I’ll make sure they know. Are you going to tell me what this is all about?”
Shaking her head on the pillow, she pressed her lips together.
“All right, Poppet. Keep your secret. Sleep well.” He pushed himself up from the side of her bed and reached for the lamp.
“Daddy?”
She was stalling. “What is it, and this better be the last thing for tonight.”
“Is it all right to pray to Jesus for what we want for Christmas?”
He paused. “I think it is fine to ask for what you want, but you have to be ready for whatever answer Jesus gives. Sometimes He has to say no, just like I do. It doesn’t mean that He doesn’t love you. It means He wants the best thing for you, and that might not be the thing you think you want.” Oscar sat on the side of the bed again and stroked her hair. “And that doesn’t just go for little girls. It goes for grown-ups, too. We don’t always get what we want, just because we pray for it.”
And didn’t he have reason to know it?
“What is it that you’re praying for now?” Though he had an idea.
“It’s a secret. For me and Jesus.”
“Is it about a baby?” He couldn’t keep the sternness out of his voice. “We’ve been over that. You might get a doll for Christmas, but you’re not getting a real, live baby.”
She blinked, and her eyes looked suspiciously bright for a moment, but she shook her head. “It’s something else.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose, shutting his eyes. It had been a long day, and if tonight was any indication, it was going to be a long month, especially if everyone in his house insisted on attending every Advent party. Tomorrow it was the Zanks’ place, and the night after the Slocums’. Though he should be relieved that Liesl had apparently abandoned the notion of getting a real baby for Christmas, now she had something else on her wish list, and she wasn’t sharing.
Still, there were three and a half weeks until Christmas. She’d probably let him know before then what it was.
“All right, Poppet. You say your prayers and get some sleep. There’s lots to do tomorrow.”
He stood and took the lamp, leaving it on the hall table with the wick turned down low. He left her bedroom door open halfway. When he came to bed, he’d blow out the flame.
When he got to the kitchen, Inge was hard at work, mixing bowl in her arm, stirring something with a wooden spoon. Martin sat at the table with Kate, several papers spread in front of them. Oscar recognized the letter from Martin’s brother, Victor.
“What if we sell the yearlings? They aren’t purebreds, so we’ll only get the beef price for them, but it would be something,” Kate said. She drew one of the pages toward her, pencil in hand. “With the rest of the cheese money and the sale of the yearling calves, we could make the mortgage payment.”
Martin nodded. “We could, but we would then have no money to build a house to live in. And no money for food and supplies for the next year until we could sell cheese again.” He dragged his hands down his face. “The money we have is like a handkerchief. And we keep trying to stretch it into a tablecloth. We can make the mortgage payment, but only if we spend every last cent, including money from selling the yearling calves, when it is not the time to be selling. We will not get top dollar for them. Not until spring when the buyer can turn them out on grass instead of having to feed them through the winter.”
Kate leaned back, tossing her pencil onto the pages. “And building the house wouldn’t be enough. We would have to furnish it with something. Beds, blankets, food, clothing. If we paid off the mortgage, we wouldn’t have enough for even the barest necessities, not for an entire year. And with the baby coming, we’ll need even more things. And I can’t get a job, not and care for the baby and make cheese all summer.”
“I think we have no choice. We will have to take my brother’s offer. We can sell the farm, pay off the entire mortgage and have some left over. Perhaps enough that we can take our own rooms somewhere in the city and not have to live in the factory
.”
“Are there any other options?” Kate asked. “Is there any way we can keep our farm?”
Martin pushed his spectacles up on his forehead and rubbed his eyes.
It seemed there was little else the Amakers could do than sell out. Even if they didn’t have the mortgage to pay, replacing the house and possessions would’ve been hard. As it stood, they’d be at least able to get away with a bit of a nest egg once they sold the farm.
“Will you sell to Siddons?” Oscar didn’t fancy him for a neighbor. Not that Mr. Siddons would live on the farm. He’d install tenant farmers, sharecroppers.
“If we had more time, we could have an auction. For the land and the livestock.” Martin butted the papers together into a neat stack. “But with things the way they are, we will need to take the best offer we can get. Mr. Siddons has indicated his interest, but I have not settled on my price.”
Inge opened the oven door and pulled out a hot pan, while Oscar leaned in the doorway, hands in his pockets. The smell of baked chocolate filled the kitchen, cozy and homey.
Oscar sniffed. “What’s that you’re making, Mrs. Amaker? It smells wonderful. In fact, my house has smelled like fresh bread and cookies every day since you walked through the door. There’s always something tasty in the cupboards now.”
Inge set the mixing bowls in the washtub. “It is Brünsli. Christmas brownies. For tomorrow’s Advent window visit. It is the Zanks’ turn, and we must bring a gift.”
Oscar had never been to Bill Zank’s house. He wasn’t even sure where the feed store owner lived. The prospect of another trip to town, another evening of fellowship with friends...he inhaled again the fragrant, chocolaty aroma coming from the oven.
“If we’re going out again tomorrow night, I had best get into the workshop and finish up the wedding chest. We can deliver it when we go to town.” He started to turn away, then stopped. “Liesl wanted me to remind you that the area under the sideboard is not to be disturbed.” He pointed to the walnut cupboard that sat up on legs, leaving perhaps eighteen inches of space underneath. A cardboard box lay on its side, the open top facing the kitchen.
