by Amy Clipston
“I think you’re right.” He sank onto the bench beside her and swallowed a shiver. He should’ve grabbed his coat from the peg by the door, but he was more focused on having an uninterrupted conversation with her than how he would weather the crisp December air. “We’ll definitely have a white Christmas this year.”
“Do you prefer white Christmases?” she asked before sipping from the mug.
“Ya.” He shrugged. He hadn’t thought much about Christmas since he’d lost Barbara. “How about you?”
She mirrored his shrug. “Ya. I figure if it’s going to be so cold, it might as well snow and make the scenery schee as a celebration of God’s glory and our Savior’s birth.”
“I have to agree with that.” He drank the hot cider and watched the snowflakes for a moment while trying to find a way to keep the conversation going. “What are your family Christmas traditions?”
“Ach, you know, nothing out of the ordinary.” She set the mug down on the bench beside her. “We have the Christmas table with a place set for each of my siblings. I’m the oldest, and I love helping my mother set it up the night before. We put out little toys and candies for each of the kinner. I love seeing their faces Christmas morning. We have a big breakfast and then my dat sits in his favorite chair and tells the Christmas story from the book of Luke. It’s wunderbaar. I look forward to it every year. How about you?”
Caleb studied the flakes that fluttered down onto the snow lining the wooden porch railing while he considered his answer. In all honesty, he and Susie hadn’t really practiced any traditions since they’d lost Barbara. Last year, he gave her little gifts Christmas morning, and they’d placed a poinsettia on the mantle. But they didn’t sing Christmas carols or share the Christmas story like they’d done when Barbara was alive. Beyond the Christmas program at school and a dinner shared with a neighbor, it seemed like just another day without Barbara.
“Susie and I don’t really have any traditions anymore,” he finally said. “We seem to just take things day by day with God’s help.”
Naomi’s expression was sad. “I’m sorry for your loss.” Her sweet voice was a mere whisper.
“I appreciate how nice you’ve been to my Susie,” he said, placing his mug on the seat beside him. “You’ve taken a lot of time to talk with her, and not many adults seem to care enough to do that. Danki.”
Her smile and dimple were back. “Oh, it’s nothing.” She waved off the comment. “She’s an easy girl to love.”
“She’s quite taken with you,” he said, studying her eyes. “You seem to have a gift with kinner.”
Her cheeks were pink again, and he was certain it was more than just the cool breeze that colored them. “I’ve had a lot of experience with my siblings. My mamm once said I should’ve been a school teacher, but I thought quilting was the talent God wanted me to share.” She paused as if gathering her thoughts. “Susie is a very special little girl. I’ve enjoyed spending time with her.”
He nodded. “I believe she feels the same way about you. She’s talked about you constantly since we met at the farmers market.” He shook his head, embarrassed. “I’m sorry we made a scene that day.”
“You didn’t make a scene. It’s scary when you think you’ve lost a kind. I took my siblings to the park one day last spring. My littlest brother, Joseph, was only four and wandered off while I was tying Leroy’s shoe.” She frowned. “I was scared to death with worry. There’s a little stream that runs through the park, and I was certain he’d drowned.” She laughed. “It turned out he was hiding behind a nearby tree, pretending to be a squirrel.” Her expression was serious again. “But I understand how you felt at the farmers market. When you’ve lost sight of a child, your mind runs away with the most horrible possibilities of what could’ve happened to them.”
The understanding in her pretty eyes touched him. “I feel like I’ve become even more protective of her since I lost Barbara,” he said. “I guess it’s because she’s all I have left.”
Naomi hugged her cloak closer to her body. “You must miss her so.”
He nodded. “Every day.”
“May I ask …?” Her voice trailed off.
“What?” He rubbed his arms as the frosty air seeped into his skin. He wished he could run in and snatch his coat without losing a moment of conversation with Naomi.
“Nothing.” She cleared her throat and glanced back toward the pasture. “The snow is beautiful, ya? I could watch it all night.” She looked at his arms. “You should go get your coat. You don’t want to spend your Christmas visit in bed or at the hospital with pneumonia, do you?”
“Naomi, you don’t have to change the subject,” he said with a smile. “You can ask me anything.”
Standing, she pursed her lips. “You’re going to catch a cold.” She slipped in the door and returned a few moments later with a coat. “I grabbed one from of the peg by the door. It’s my father’s, but I don’t think he’d mind if you borrowed it during our visit.”
“Danki.” He pulled it on. Although the coat was a little large in the shoulders, it was warm. “What were you going to ask me?”
She bit her lower lip as if choosing her words. “I was wondering what happened to Barbara.” She held a hand up, palm out. “But if it’s too painful to share, I understand. I don’t mean to pry into your life.”
“It was Christmas Eve two years ago,” he began, staring across the pasture. “We were so froh and excited back then. She was pregnant with our second kind and due at the end of January. Although she was feeling tired, she insisted that we celebrate with her cousins who lived on the other side of town. She’d baked a torte … Susie had helped her while they talked and laughed.”
The memories flooded his mind like a rushing waterfall, with every detail bubbling forth, from the smell of her baked raspberry dream torte to the sight of her honey blonde hair sticking out from under her prayer kapp.
“I’d wanted to stay home because Barbara said that she had some back pain, but she’d insisted we go,” he continued, lifting the mug of cider. “She’d even invited our neighbors to join us, and looking back, I’m certain she did to give herself an excuse to go no matter what.” He chuckled to himself. “Barbara was good at that—finding ways to get what she wanted. Not that she was deceitful. She had a heart of gold. She knew our neighbors were celebrating Christmas alone that year, and she wanted to give them froh memories.”
“She was very caring,” Naomi said softly.
“Ya, she was.” He glanced over at her, and her lip twitched as her eyes filled with tears. He hoped she didn’t cry. He didn’t want to cause her any sadness while they visited together. He also didn’t want to cry and show too much emotion in front of her and seem as if he were weak.
“We’d spent all afternoon with her cousins and had a gut time,” he said. “We ate too much, and the kinner played well together while sharing their Christmas candy and toys. We stayed much later than we should’ve, but Susie was having so much fun with her cousins.”
He sipped the cider and looked back over the pasture as the memories of that tragic night gripped him.
“On the way home, I was riding in a buggy behind her and witnessed the whole thing.” His voice quavered. He cleared his throat before continuing. “Barbara had wanted to ride back to our house with our neighbor and her family. For some reason, Susie insisted on riding with me. She said she was afraid I would get lost if I rode home alone.” He snorted at the irony.
“She’s such a thoughtful kind,” Naomi whispered, wiping a tear.
“A pickup truck ran a red light and …” His voice trailed off as the graphic images of the crash flooded his mind. He shook the memories away. “My neighbor and her family suffered bruises and scrapes. But my Barbara and our unborn baby took the brunt of the impact.” His voice fell to a whisper. “They were killed instantly.”
“I’m so sorry.” Tears glistened in Naomi’s brown eyes. “I can’t imagine how difficult it was for you and Susie.”<
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He wiped his eyes, hoping to prevent any threatening tears from splashing down his cheeks. “The month that followed her death was a blur. Of course, God was with me the whole time, and I believe He still is.” He paused and pulled at his beard while gathering his thoughts. “To be honest, the most difficult part has been the day-to-day routine, the things we do without thinking twice. You know, getting Susie ready for school, making her lunch, combing her hair, going to bed alone at night. That’s when I miss Barbara the most.”
Naomi wiped her eyes again. “That would make sense. You miss her the most when you’re alone with Susie or just plain alone.”
He nodded, impressed by her understanding of his loss. “That’s it exactly. It’s funny how your life can change in a split second. One minute I was riding down a road thinking about how much fun I’d had at the little party and listening to my little girl chatter endlessly about Christmas. Then the next moment I was trying to hold my emotions together while I held my little girl at the scene of the accident.”
“Life does have a tendency to change on us in a split second,” Naomi said, holding her mug in her hands.
He raised his eyebrow. “You sound like you speak from experience.”
She shrugged while studying the contents of the mug. “I’ve made plans that haven’t turned out the way I’d thought. Of course, it’s nothing like you’ve experienced. My heartaches have been on a much smaller scale.”
“Your heartaches?” he asked, his curiosity piqued. “Do you want to share?”
Naomi shook her head. “I’d rather not. It’s just silliness.” She sipped more of her drink. “This is the best cider I’ve ever tasted. Makes me thirsty for Robert’s summer root beer. It’s especially tasty with some vanilla ice cream.”
“Ya, it is good. We’ll have to do that next time we come visit,” he said. “Susie and I will be sure to have the floats ready.”
She gave him a surprised expression. “Okay.”
He studied her eyes, wishing he could read her thoughts. “I’ve talked your ear off,” he said. “Tell me about your life here in Bird-in-Hand.”
She shrugged and cleared her throat. “It’s nothing out of the ordinary. You already know that I work at the quilt stand in the farmers market and I help care for my siblings.”
“What do you like to do for fun?” he asked, crossing his ankle onto his knee.
She laughed. “For fun?”
“That’s right.” He nodded. “You have fun, right?”
“Hmm.” She gnawed her bottom lip and hugged her cloak closer to her body. “I enjoy reading with my youngest siblings. Leroy and Joseph are learning quickly how to sound out words.” Her fingers moved to the ties of her black bonnet, and she absently moved them on her chin. “I love to quilt, and we sometimes have quilting bees.” She turned to him, her eyes full of excitement. “In fact, we’re having one here tomorrow, and I hope Susie will attend. She’s asked me to teach her to quilt, and I’d love to give her some instructions.”
He grinned. “She’d love that.”
“Gut.” She smiled. “I guess that’s about it.”
“So everything you enjoy is for someone else?”
She laughed. “I guess so. But isn’t that what God has instructed us to do—to give of ourselves?”
“Ya, He has.” Caleb wondered why she wasn’t married yet. He surmised she was in her mid-twenties. Why hadn’t some eligible bachelor swooped her up?
She gestured toward the front door. “You grew up here, ya?”
“I did.”
“What took you to Ohio?”
“Love.” He folded his arms across his chest. “I met Barbara while she was visiting her cousin here one summer. We courted through letters and the phone for a while, and I made a couple of trips up to visit her. She didn’t want to leave her mamm, who was alive when we first met, so I moved there.”
“Are many of Barbara’s relatives still there?”
He shook his head. “No, just a handful of cousins in neighboring church districts.”
“What do you do for a living?” she asked.
“I’m a buggy maker.”
“Do you ever miss living here?”
He nodded. “Sometimes I do. Sometimes I wish I’d convinced Barbara to come live here, but when I think about that too much, I make myself narrisch, wondering if she’d still be alive. Then again, it’s not our place to question God’s will, is it?”
Naomi shook her head. “No, it’s not.” She then tilted her head in question, her eyes thoughtful. “Do you believe that God only gives us one chance at true love? Or do you think He provides us the opportunity to love more than once during a lifetime?”
“That is a very gut question.” He idly rubbed his beard while considering his answer. “I would say that God gives us second chances. I think Timothy’s youngest sister is a great example of that.” He was almost certain he saw her flinch at the mention of his best friend’s name.
“Ya,” she said softly. “That is a gut point.”
Her eyes were full of something that seemed to resemble regret or possibly grief. He wanted to ask her what had happened to her to make her so sad, but the back door opened with a whoosh, revealing Sadie. Did his sister have a sixth sense when it came to ruining perfect moments?
“Caleb!” Sadie exclaimed, her face full of shock. “What are you doing out here in the cold?” She turned to Naomi and her eyes narrowed slightly, looking annoyed. “Oh, Naomi. Wie geht’s?”
“I’m fine, danki.” Naomi rose and stepped toward the door. “How are you?”
“Fine, fine. You must come in out of this cold before you both get sick.” Sadie motioned for Naomi to enter the house. As Naomi stepped through the doorway, she shot Caleb a quizzical expression as if to ask what he’d been doing on the porch with Naomi. “That’s not your coat, is it?” she asked.
Caleb stood and shook his head. “No, this coat belongs to Naomi’s dat. She grabbed it for me when I started shivering.”
Once Naomi was through the door, Sadie stepped back onto the porch and closed the door. “What are you doing out here, Caleb?”
“Just talking with my new freind.” He moved past her. “We were discussing the snow and Christmas.” He shrugged. “That was all.”
She took his arm and pulled him toward the door. “I have plenty of families I want you to meet, so you must come back inside.”
“Yes, schweschder.” He forced a smile and she steered him through the door. As he walked by Naomi and her mother, Caleb rolled his eyes and then smiled. Naomi laughed, and he gave her a little wave.
Sadie guided Caleb toward Irene Wagler who stood with her father and another couple. Caleb nodded a greeting and then glanced back at Naomi, who blushed and looked away.
“Caleb,” Sadie said with a sweeping gesture, “this is Hezekiah Wagler, Irene’s father.”
Caleb shook the middle-aged gentleman’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“You too,” Hezekiah said. “I hear you are a buggy maker. I’ve owned my own shop for thirty years.”
While the man began to describe his shop, Caleb glanced toward Naomi standing with her mother, and his mind wandered back to their conversation on the porch. He wished he could’ve sat with Naomi for much longer, perhaps hours, while they continued their conversation. She was so beautiful and so easy to talk to and he felt a connection to her, as if she could be a kindred spirit.
While he missed Barbara so much his heart ached some days, he felt something new when he looked at Naomi. She ignited a glimmer of hope that he might somehow find love again. Although he could never replace Barbara, he suddenly wondered if he could find happiness and build a life with a woman as special as Naomi. He had the suspicion he could love again, and Naomi King could possibly hold that key.
A smile turned up the corner of Caleb’s lips. The possibility of finding a life mate again filled him with a joy he hadn’t felt in years. He looked forward to exploring that future, but he k
new he had to move slowly and make sure it was right. He didn’t want to do anything to hurt Susie or Naomi.
Caleb turned back to the Waglers, and Sadie shot him a curious look.
Ignoring his sister, Caleb continued to smile and nod while Hezekiah discussed his booming business. He tried his best to look interested and engaged in the discussion, even though his thoughts were on the other side of the room with Naomi.
Caleb would keep his excitement about his evolving feelings for Naomi King to himself and let God lead him. He believed that with God, all things were possible, even the potential of a widower finding love again.
CHAPTER 7
The word quilting refers to the hand stitching of three layers: a pieced top, a layer of batting, and a bottom fabric layered together, then stitched together in a pattern to hold the layers together,” Naomi began while holding up a quilt and showing it to Susie the following morning while they stood together in Sadie’s kitchen.
Deep in thought, Susie scrunched her nose and swiped her hand over the cream, blue, and maroon quilt created in a log cabin pattern.
“See here?” Naomi ran her hand over the pattern. “The top layers were pieced together on the treadle sewing machine I have at my house in my room. The quilting is always done by hand. Then a binding is sewn onto the bottom layer by the machine and hand stitched to the top layer.” She smiled at Susie’s little tongue, sticking out of her mouth as if she were contemplating the meaning of life. “I’m sure you already know that we use what the Englishers consider an old-fashioned sewing machine powered by a pedal and no electricity.” She felt her admiration for the little girl growing by the minute.
Naomi had arrived at Sadie’s that morning along with her sisters, mother, and Lilly. As soon as Naomi stepped in the door, Susie ran over and began chatting without taking a breath—asking question after question about Naomi’s quilt, which she held in her hands. Naomi brought it in order to explain how a quilt was created.
