An Amish Family Christmas

by Murray Pura

  “The bishop?” Rebecca pulled back to look at his face and eyes. “And how was that?”

  “We talked over everything just like we did a year ago. He told me he thanked God that I had come home alive but that nothing has changed as far as the church is concerned. I’m still to be shunned for going to war...if I don’t repent.”

  “And he knows you’re here talking with me? That you spoke with Mother and Father and our brothers and sisters?”

  “Ja. I have three days to repent. If I don’t, the bann is back in force.”

  Micah looked at Naomi, who was standing in the doorway. “Hello.”

  “Hello,” she replied.

  “It’s been a long time.”

  “Yes.”

  “I wrote you every chance I could.”

  “You knew I wouldn’t be permitted to see the letters.”

  “Someone must have them. There are more than fifty.”

  Naomi dropped her eyes. “What good did it do to make the effort? I asked you not to go to war and you did anyway. You knew how hard it would be on me.”

  “On both of us,” Micah said quietly, leaving his sister and walking toward the door.

  “It’s the same old argument. You wanted the war more than you wanted me. Or our way of life.”

  “I didn’t want the war. I wanted to save the lives of the men in the war, friends and foes. I went as a medic and I wanted you to understand that.”

  “Well, I didn’t understand a year ago and I don’t understand today. So what’s the point of our getting together again?”

  “You are my wife.”

  “That made no difference to you when you enlisted.”

  Micah put his hands in the pockets of his desert uniform. “The bishop asked that we resume living together. But we’re not to eat with each other or share the same bed or have any relations with one another, and I may not attend worship services or do business with anyone in the Amish community. I can work the farm, and we can sit under the same roof.”

  “And never talk.”

  “Not after Sunday, no.”

  “Unless you repent.”

  Micah shook his head. “Naomi, how do you expect me to stand before God and tell him I’m sorry I saved the lives of hundreds of men and women—American, Canadian, British, Dutch, Afghan? How could I honestly say that to him and mean it? I didn’t take life, Naomi, I gave it back to those who had almost lost it. I gave it back in the name of God and Jesus Christ. You want me to say that was wrong?”

  Naomi didn’t reply.

  “This isn’t how I wanted our first meeting to begin.” Micah’s voice grew soft, the softness she remembered. “I’m here because my combat tour ended and I’ve been discharged. I knew nothing of the accident that took the lives of your parents and Ruth. I’m so sorry. God himself knows how sorry I am. I may have left here because I felt the Lord wanted me to bind up the wounds of the fallen. I may have enlisted and been shunned by our people. But when I left, I left loving your family. They knew that.”

  Naomi’s eyes were still lowered. “Yes, they did.”

  “I left loving you.”

  She was silent.

  “I wanted you to understand,” he almost whispered.

  “Understand what?” Her voice took on a sharp edge. “What did you expect me to understand?”

  “That I couldn’t sit back and watch soldiers and civilians being killed without doing something about it. That I needed to do my part to ease the pain and suffering. That I needed to heal like Jesus healed. That I felt it was a calling in my heart from God.”

  “But you are Amish.”

  “I didn’t kill.”

  “You helped the war effort.”

  “I helped women and men and children return to their homes alive. That was the effort I made. I love you so much, Naomi. I need you to understand that was the effort I made.”

  Again she didn’t know what to say to him.

  After a moment he asked, “Where’s Luke?”

  “Upstairs in his room.”

  “I’m going to look in on him.”

  Naomi lifted her face. “He won’t know you. He won’t speak.”

  “In three days you won’t speak to me again, so what is the difference?”

  Micah brushed past her and went into the house and up the staircase. Naomi and Rebecca looked at each other.

  Rebecca shrugged. “How can we argue with him? Everything he says sounds right.”

  “Not for an Amish man.”

  “But God is not an Amish God, is he? He is everyone’s God. How can I say the Lord didn’t put in his heart this desire to save people from the bombs and bullets of war?”

  Naomi glanced away. “Let’s finish the dishes.”

  “I should go.”

  “Why?”

  “Because your husband has returned, and you need to live with him in this house, not me.”

  Naomi made a face. “Some life. We’ll be like ghosts to one another. How can I ask him to help me with Luke when I can’t even explain to him what I want?”

  Rebecca bit her lower lip. “I feel out of place.”

  “Please don’t go. It’s going to be hard enough without losing you too.”

  “You’re not losing me.”

  “You’ll be a mile away. Of course I’m losing you.”

  Rebecca folded her arms over her chest. “Well, I’ll speak with Micah about it. And my parents. And the bishop. Let us see what they will say about such an arrangement.”

  Naomi nodded. “All right.”

  “Until then I will remain here with you.”

  Naomi smiled. “Danke.”

  Rebecca offered her a small smile in return. “Bitte.” She came over and took her friend’s hand. “And I’ll be praying for you, ja, for you and my brother. He has come home alive. This should be a happier day for you, my sister by marriage and by God.”

  “Of course I’m happy to see that he’s alive. I just don’t know what to do. I’m an Amish wife but he’s not an Amish husband.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “He won’t repent, so the shunning will continue. How Amish is that of him to keep doing this to our marriage?”

  “Let’s pray about all of it and see what God will do. It may be that my brother isn’t the only one who has to budge on this.”

  Naomi’s eyes widened. “What? Me? What can I do? Agree with him so that we’re both expelled from the church?”

  “I’m not thinking of you. I’m thinking of the bishop and the ministers.”

  “Them? When do they ever change their minds?”

  “Let’s wait and see. Meanwhile, I hope you have enough feelings left in your heart for my brother that you can embrace him and welcome him home.”

  Naomi passed a hand over her eyes. “I don’t know what I’m able to do. Micah and I haven’t talked in a year. We haven’t been able to write. Now my family is gone and he is here, but I still feel utterly alone.”

  “Well, try a hug anyway. It can’t hurt.”

  “I think it can.”

  They both went back into the house as Micah came down the staircase. His face had tightened, and its lines had deepened.

  “What’s Luke’s prognosis?” he asked Naomi.

  “Prognosis?” she responded. “You sound like a doctor.”

  “That’s the way I’ve sounded for the past year. Is he on medication?”

  “Ja.”

  “BZD?” asked Micah.

  “Ja.”

  “Do they connect the onset of the catatonia with head trauma from the accident?”

  “They say they understand so little about catatonic states. They can only guess.”

  “Well, if a person is fine before an accident and has catatonia immediately afterward, I think it’s a good guess. What’s become of the drunk driver?”

  “His trial is set for the spring. He can’t leave the state.”

  “So...”

  “So he’s home with his family and getting ready f
or Thanksgiving.”

  “And you were at home when the accident occurred?”

  “Ja.”

  Micah nodded, turning over what she had just told him. Then he went to a closet by the door and took a dark winter coat off a peg. It was at least a size too small, but he pulled it on over his uniform. A broad-brimmed black hat that had belonged to Naomi’s father went on his head. It also was too small, but he left it on.

  “What are you doing?” asked Naomi.

  “I’m going to pay my respects to your mother and father and Ruth.” He paused as he opened the door. “Would you like to join me?”

  “Oh, I don’t think so, no.”

  Rebecca shot an annoyed glance at her, but Naomi ignored it, picking up the dishtowel and returning to the plates and cups.

  Through the window the two young women could see Micah leading the black gelding, Maria, from the barn and harnessing her to the buggy. He spent a moment talking to the horse, stroking the side of her neck until she nickered and bent her head to tug at his coat with her teeth. After that he climbed up into the driver’s seat.

  Words suddenly made their way into Naomi’s mind, words and strong memories of her wedding ceremony.

  “Do you have confidence, brother, that the Lord has provided this, our sister Naomi, as a marriage partner for you?”

  “Ja.”

  “Do you also have confidence, sister, that the Lord has provided this, our brother Micah, as a marriage partner for you?”

  “Ja.”

  “Do you also promise your wife that if she should in bodily weakness, sickness, or any similar circumstances need your help, you will care for her as is fitting for a Christian husband, Micah?”

  “Ja.”

  “Do you promise your husband the same thing, Naomi? That if he should in bodily weakness, sickness, or any similar circumstances need your help, you will care for him as is fitting for a Christian wife?”

  “Ja.”

  “Do you both promise together that you will with love, forbearance, and patience live with each other and not part from each other until God will separate you from death?”

  “Ja.”

  Naomi dropped the dishtowel and ran to the door, flinging it open.

  “Micah! Warten Sie eine Minute! Ich komme mit dir!”

  He pulled back on the reins, and the mare came to a stop.

  “Sind Sie sicher?” he asked her. Are you sure?

  “Ja, ich bin mir sicher.”

  She pulled on her coat and wrapped a dark scarf about her throat.

  “You’ll keep an eye on Luke?” she asked Rebecca as she pulled on woolen gloves.

  “Of course.”

  “I’m not sure when we’ll be back.”

  “Take all the time you need.”

  “All the time we need? We need a lifetime.”

  Naomi rushed out the door and strode across the farmyard to the buggy, her head erect, her back straight. Micah watched her come and waited, the leather traces in his hands. Rebecca saw her say something to Micah, one gloved hand on the side of the buggy. Then she climbed in beside him.

  Not for the first time or the last time, Rebecca marveled at the beauty God had bestowed on the slender, dark, and flashing-eyed woman who was Naomi Miller by birth and Naomi Bachman by marriage. But along with the beauty, he had also bestowed a fiery temper and a backbone as stubborn and unyielding as steel.

  “I have no idea how you are going to bring the two of them together again, Lord,” Rebecca whispered as the buggy rolled down the lane to the road. “But you made the marriage, and you put the desire to be a medic in Micah’s heart, so it’s your problem. All I can do is pray and remind you of that.”

  Three

  The day had been astonishing enough already with Micah’s return from Afghanistan. Now Naomi witnessed something else just as astonishing. Micah walked ahead of her into the plain cemetery of plain gray stones and plain brown grass, found the fresh mounds of earth at her family’s graves, knelt by them, and wept. And not just any sort of weeping. It was loud and sharp, and it covered his face with tears and seemed to come from the pit of his soul.

  Naomi herself began to cry just watching him and listening to his pain. He had been close to Ruth and her mother and father, but she had no idea he would feel the loss so deeply. Now and then he had shed a tear in the year of marriage they had enjoyed before he enlisted, but nothing like this. She didn’t know if she should touch his shoulder or kneel beside him or speak a word of comfort or what she should do. So she went back and sat in the buggy and prayed and waited.

  This man I married is a stranger to me. I do not know him. I do not understand him.

  She watched as he stood and searched the pockets of her father’s winter coat for a handkerchief. He found a white one, unfolded it, and wiped his eyes and cheeks as he made his way back to the buggy. Climbing up beside her, he said nothing. He shook the reins, and Maria pulled them back onto the road. He was staring straight ahead when the words came, and there were not many of them.

  “You don’t know how it feels to think you were thousands of miles away saving the lives of people you’d never known but totally unaware the ones you loved most were dying in a wreck at the side of a highway.”

  He took them down a side road and stopped at the house they had lived in for a year before he left to join the army. It was white and simple, two stories, nothing to distinguish it from countless other houses scattered up and down the roadway except that its windows were boarded up with large sheets of plywood.

  “What did you do with our beef cattle?” he asked her.

  “Papa took care of them as you wished. They’re in a pen he built about three hundred yards behind the house.”

  “They never roam free as they did with us?”

  “Ja. Papa had a long fence built around our acreage so they could do that.”

  “I suppose that was expensive.”

  “Not at all. Men from the church had it up in a few days. Mr. Zook supplied the lumber free of charge.”

  Micah looked from the house to her. “No wire?”

  She decided to meet his gaze. “No wire. Papa detested wire. He hated when animals got snagged on it.”

  His eyes lingered on hers. “You’ve grown more lovely in my absence.”

  “Don’t say that.” But she didn’t look away.

  “Why shouldn’t I say that?”

  “Because you’ve been gone too long. And you’ve been silent too long.”

  “No, Naomi, I’ve not been silent. There wasn’t one letter I wrote you where I didn’t say how I ached to gather you up in my arms and hold you close enough to smell the soap you use on your skin and the gentle scent you use on your hair.”

  “Stop it.”

  “Who has the letters? Bishop Fischer? Or did your father keep them in a drawer in his desk? If you opened one of them you would know I have longed for you every day I was away from you.”

  She dropped her eyes. “Well, I will never be able to read them.”

  “So then I’ll tell you how I feel now that I’m here.”

  “Until they order us to cease speaking to one another Sunday night.”

  “My eyes will tell you all you need to know.”

  “Micah—”

  “I saw hundreds of desert sunrises and desert sunsets, Naomi. None of them more beautiful than the beauty God has put in you.”

  She kept her eyes down. “You shouldn’t say such things.”

  “I’m your husband. I’m your lover. Who else should say such things?”

  She couldn’t think of a retort or any sort of response.

  “Where is my clothing?” he asked after a moment.

  “I stored it at our house. In the room you will use.”

  “What room is that?”

  “Well, the room where I’ve put the broken things to be fixed. Your sister has the other spare room.”

  Micah laughed. “So who will come and fix me? You? God? The bishop?”

 
; “None of this is funny.”

  “I disagree, Omi, this is very funny.” He used the pet name she hadn’t heard since his enlistment. “What are you going to stick me in with? Busted clocks? Cracked sinks? Chairs without seats? Porcelain figurines that need to be glued?”

  She tried unsuccessfully to hold back a smile. “There is a cuckoo clock, ja. The farmer and his Percheron won’t come out at noon to look around.”

  “I remember the clock. Well, I’ll squirrel away with my tools and a bottle of glue and spend my evenings repairing him and his friends. Soon enough he’ll be eager to come out like any Amish farmer and see what I’ve done. Old Moses Fischer, he comes to mind.”

  Naomi imagined the bishop’s father and couldn’t stop her smile. “Shh.”

  “Why, with the right bottle of glue and a pair of strong clamps I think I could fix Old Moses up right as rain too.”

  “Oh, hush.” She put a hand to her mouth and her eyes crinkled. “I don’t want to laugh and you’re making me laugh.”

  “That’s good to hear.”

  “A year you’ve had to grow up and you’re still a crazy boy.”

  “Ja, ja, crazy, that’s me.”

  Their eyes came together again and the rich golden brown in his made something hard and stiff and full of edges vanish inside her.

  She looked away from him. “I made up my mind I wouldn’t be kind to you or intimate with you. But now all I can think of is that I haven’t seen your eyes or heard your laugh for a whole year. Your arms haven’t been around me and you haven’t unpinned my hair in the slow and careful way you like to do. I’m a failure at keeping you away from me.”

  She reached out a hand and awkwardly stroked his cheek as if she were a teenage girl touching a boy for the first time. “I wish you could come to some sort of agreement with the bishop and the ministers. I can’t bear the thought of having you under my roof and not being able to touch you. It’s already been more than twelve months. Oh, Micah, it will be an agony. Can you not make peace with the leadership?”

  He put his lips to the palm of her hand as she stroked his skin. The kiss made things move around inside her.

  “Not unless they wish me to be unfaithful to myself and to my God,” he replied.

  “Micah, I can’t endure another season of silence with you. I really cannot.”