“You mean for always?”
“It’s a possibility.” Rachel’s hands tightened on the wheel, but she kept her eyes straight forward.
“Would you live with me there?”
“Well . . . no, I mean Aunt Lydia’s not my aunt.”
“Then I don’t want to live there either,” Holly declared.
“But it’s a farm, Holly. With cows and horses and trees to climb and cousins to play with. You might decide you really like it.”
Holly didn’t say anything now, but her arms were folded across her front in a stubborn gesture, and her expression seemed to be a mixture of sadness and fear.
“Anyway, I hope that you and I will always be together, Holly.”
“Really?” She sounded hopeful.
“Of course.” Rachel reached over and smoothed her hand over Holly’s hair. “I love you, sweetie. You know that. I love you more than anyone else in the whole wide world.”
Holly beamed at her. “I love you too, Aunt Rachel. More than anyone in the whole wide world too. I mean now that Mommy and Daddy are . . . gone.”
Rachel felt the lump growing in her throat and was afraid she was about to start crying again, but then, seeing a dark gray buggy ahead with a triangular SLOW sign on the back, she decided to use this as a distraction—for both of them.
“Look, Holly,” she said eagerly, slowing the car and pointing down the road. “There’s a horse-drawn buggy up there.”
“Really?” Holly leaned forward. “There’s a horse too?”
“Yes. You’ll see it in a minute, when we pass it.”
They followed the buggy for a while, and then, seeing there were no other cars coming their way, Rachel eased the car into the other lane and slowly passed the buggy, putting down her window enough to hear the clip-clop of the horse’s hooves.
“What a pretty horse!” Holly exclaimed.
“It is pretty.”
“And look at the funny man and woman,” Holly said eagerly. “They’re all dressed up like the olden days. Are they going to be in a Christmas program too?”
Rachel remembered the Christmas program at Holly’s school before school let out. The children had put on a version of Dickens’s A Christmas Carol. “No,” she said slowly as she pulled in front of the horse-drawn buggy. “Those people dress like that all the time, Holly.”
“Why?”
Expecting questions like this, Rachel had done some research on her computer last night, reading up on the Amish, in hopes that she’d begin to understand them better herself. Unfortunately, by the time she’d turned off her computer, she felt more confused than when she’d started. From what she could tell, there were a lot of different kinds of Amish and they didn’t all believe and do the same things, although there did seem to be a few commonalities. Perhaps that was all she needed to explain for now.
“The people in that buggy are Amish,” she began.
“Amish? What is Amish?”
“Amish is like a religion. Kind of like how we go to church . . . sometimes.” Rachel knew this was an understatement, but she had to start somewhere.
“Oh, so they dress up like that to go to church?” Holly nodded as if this made sense. “But is it Sunday?”
“No. It’s Saturday. Actually, they dress like that every day. The Amish people are kind of old-fashioned. They live the way people lived two hundred years ago.”
“Two hundred years ago?”
“Even more probably. The Amish believe it’s wrong to use things like electricity or machinery or cars. In fact, that’s why you’ll see lots of horses and buggies today. It’s how they get everywhere.”
“They go everywhere in buggies with horses? That would be fun.”
“Yes, although it would be slow.”
“I wouldn’t care if it was slow.”
“There’s another horse and buggy coming toward us now,” Rachel pointed out.
“Will there be lots of horses and buggies?”
“Yes. We’re in Amish country now. You’ll see lots of buggies and people wearing old-fashioned clothes.”
“This is fun.”
“And your aunt Lydia and your cousins are Amish too.”
“My aunt and cousins are Amish?” Holly’s tone grew more excited. “Will they be dressed old-fashioned too?”
“Yes, I’m sure they will, and their house will be different too.”
“How will it be different?”
“I’m not sure exactly, but they won’t have electricity.”
“No electricity? How do they turn on their lights?”
“They have different kinds of lights. Maybe even candles.”
“Candles? That sounds like fun.”
“Yes, and they don’t have phones or computers. Or TV or DVDs.” Rachel was well aware that Holly enjoyed her DVD movies. In fact, she suspected that her mini DVD player was in one of the bags, along with some of her kids’ DVDs.
“Oh . . .”
“But they have other things to do.”
“Like ride horses?” Holly said eagerly.
“Yes. And farm chores.”
“Like milk cows?”
“Maybe.”
“This is so exciting, Aunt Rachel. We’re going to Aunt Lydia’s farm and they’re going to be like olden-days people.”
“Yes . . . it is exciting.” However, as she said this, she only felt a fearful sense of foreboding. What if Holly fell in love with the Amish lifestyle? What if she didn’t want to go home to Chicago? And, really, could Rachel blame her? What child wouldn’t want to live in a beautiful part of the country, on a farm, with horses and cows and cousins? How did Rachel expect to compete with that?
It was late in the afternoon when Rachel turned into the settlement where Aunt Lydia lived. By now the clouds were thick and low overhead, and unless she was mistaken, these clouds would bring snow. At least they’d make it there safely before the first flakes flew, and perhaps it would just be a dusting.
“Walt called your aunt Lydia yesterday,” Rachel said as she watched for the Miller mailbox. “To tell her we were coming.”
“I thought you said they don’t have phones.”
“I guess some of them have phones, but not in the houses.”
“Oh.”
“It’s kind of like going back in time,” Rachel said. “Like we’ll be living in the olden days for a while.”
“Will we wear old-fashioned clothes too?” Holly asked eagerly.
“Well, no, I don’t think so.”
“Oh.” Now Holly sounded disappointed.
“There it is!” Rachel pointed to the mailbox with the right address and the name Miller on it. “That’s the place.” She peered down the graveled road to where a plain white two-story house was situated and, not too far from it, stood a dark red barn—almost like something you’d see in a children’s picture book. “Aunt Lydia’s farm!”
Holly clapped her hands. “Hurry, hurry.”
“I thought you didn’t mind going slow,” Rachel teased as she turned onto the driveway. “Like the horse and buggy.”
“But this is a car.”
Rachel parked the little red car in front of the house. She knew it looked out of place and the neighbors might wonder, but she didn’t know where else to park it. She had barely turned off the ignition before Holly was out of the car and dashing up to the front door. “Come on, Aunt Rachel,” she yelled.
Rachel hurried to join her eager niece, but as she got closer to the porch, she heard angry barking and turned to see a big black dog streaking across the yard toward them. He did not look friendly. Rachel dashed over to grab Holly just as the front door opened.
“Get back, Blue!” a woman wearing a charcoal gray dress shouted at the dog. “Stay.” Now she glared at Rachel as if she wasn’t expecting visitors. Her faded brown hair was streaked with gray and pulled back into a severe bun that only intensified her harsh expression.
“Hello,” Rachel said in a friendly tone. “Is this the Mill
ers’?”
“Ja.” The woman nodded briskly, studying them with icy blue eyes. “I am Lydia Miller. This is our farm.”
“Did Walt Swanson call you? The attorney from Chicago?”
“Oh, ja, ja.” Her expression softened with realization as she turned from Rachel to peer curiously at Holly. “You are Miriam’s daughter?” She knelt down, looking intently into Holly’s face. “You are little Holly?”
Holly nodded somberly.
Now Lydia put her arms around Holly, holding her tightly. “Oh, my little lamb,” she said. “My poor little lost lamb. Danki Derr Herr. You have found your way home.”
Rachel just stood there on the porch, shivering as she witnessed the warm familial embrace. In their haste, she’d left her coat in the car, but she noticed that snowflakes were just starting to fly and the icy wind was picking up. The weather was nothing, however, compared to the chill that rushed through her heart just now. She felt certain this was it—she was losing Holly.
Lydia stood now, wiping some tears from her cheeks as she looked over at Rachel. “Danki, danki.” She smiled, which made her suddenly seem younger. “Thank you for bringing Holly to us. We will take very good care of her. You can be sure of that.” She just stood there now, as if waiting for Rachel to leave.
“I’m Holly’s other aunt,” Rachel said a bit helplessly. She felt dismissed, but wasn’t ready to budge.
“Oh?” Lydia looked surprised. “You are her aenti?”
“Yes, I’m Michael’s sister. Miri’s sister-in-law. Didn’t Walt explain all that to you?” Rachel asked.
“I did not understand all that the man told me on the telephone the other day. I was so shocked, so sad, to hear of my sister’s death. This morning, my brother, Benjamin—he lives next door—he gave my husband a message. I thought Holly would be delivered to me this week. I did not know she would arrive today.”
“Well, if it’s too soon, Holly and I can go to a hotel in town and—”
“Oh no, no—it’s not too soon. I am glad to have Holly now.”
“Oh.” Rachel glanced back at her car. “Well, she has a lot of things in the car. I should help her carry them inside and unpack.”
“Oh no.” Lydia held up her hands. “She has no need for your English things here. We will give her what she needs.”
“But she has her toys and clothes and—”
“No, no.” Lydia firmly shook her head. “She will not need those.”
Holly was looking up at Rachel with a look of fear and insecurity, as if this wasn’t how she’d planned this either. Suddenly Rachel knew she could not—she would not—despite this strong woman’s determination—simply abandon her only niece like this.
“I’m sorry,” Rachel began slowly, gathering her thoughts as she spoke. “But Holly has been through a lot. Everything here will be very new to her. If I can’t stay here to help her with this transition, she must at least have her things.”
“Aunt Rachel?” Holly reached for her hand, imploring with terrified eyes. “You’re going to stay here too, aren’t you?”
“Well, I . . . maybe I should find a hotel in town. But don’t worry, I won’t leave you—”
“Oh no, no—you do not have to stay in a hotel,” Lydia declared. “You will stay here with us for the night.”
“If it’s no trouble.” Rachel felt a small trickle of relief.
“Oh, it is no trouble.” She stepped back now, opening the door. “Come in, come in. Welcome to our humble home.”
They went into a stark large room, and spying a wood-burning stove in the corner, Rachel went over to it, hoping to thaw herself out a little. Holly stayed right beside her. As she hovered by the heat source, Rachel surveyed the room, taking in the simple wooden chairs, the benches, and a plain-looking side table with a simple wooden clock and several kerosene lanterns on it. Although this room wasn’t as stylish or glamorous as Miri and Michael’s Chicago apartment, there was a similarity. Probably it was the bare wood floors and the spartan furnishings. Maybe this was where Miri had gotten her sense of style from.
“My husband, Daniel, and the children are working. There is much to be done before the next storm.” She paused to light one of the lanterns, then went over to a simple wooden staircase. “I will show you your room. You can put your things in it if you like.”
She led them up the dimly lit narrow stairs and down an equally dark and narrow hallway. “The boys sleep in this room.” She nodded to a room with three narrow beds. “And this is Sarah’s room. You will share with her.” She pointed inside a sparse-looking room with only one bed topped with a plain-looking quilt with even blocks of blue and burgundy and gray. Although it appeared to be a full-sized bed, it didn’t look big enough for three.
“We all sleep in the same bed?” Holly asked.
“I did not know your aenti was coming to stay.” Lydia looked perplexed as she set the lantern on a small wooden dresser. “I will send the boys to the neighbors to borrow a cot for the night.”
Rachel thanked her, but wondered if a night in a hotel might not have been the best bet after all. Perhaps it wasn’t too late to insist that both she and Holly should spend their first night in a hotel. Maybe that would make for an easier transition for everyone. But by the time they went downstairs, the snow was falling hard and fast and thick, and the idea of driving the little old car back into town during a blizzard was unappealing. Besides, Rachel reminded herself, this was only for one night—and it might even be interesting. But now she needed to come up with a way to pry Holly out of Lydia’s eager hands. Hopefully by early in the day tomorrow.
6
Worried that their Amish hostess might go into shock seeing all of Holly’s English possessions, Rachel encouraged Holly to leave a lot of her stuff in the car. “Just for the night,” Rachel said as she put the bag containing Holly’s American Girl doll and clothes back in the trunk. “We can figure it all out better tomorrow.”
“But Ivy will be cold and lonely out here,” Holly protested.
Rachel shrugged. “Okay, but we can’t take it all in. Just take what you really need,” she told her. So, loaded down with a lot of bags, they clumped up the stairs and Holly began unpacking some of her bags. Before long, Sarah’s sparse little bedroom became cluttered and crowded with fluffy bright-colored items that looked completely out of place—as if they were not truly welcome in this world. Part of Rachel felt guilty about this invasion. Yet another part of her felt like this family might as well see what Holly was accustomed to. Just because Lydia had legal custody of Holly didn’t mean she could control who Holly was or who she’d been.
“You’re here!” A girl wearing a plain blue dress very similar to Lydia’s burst into the room just as they were finishing up. She paused, looking around her room with an astonished expression. “What is all this?”
“My stuff,” Holly said. “Are you Sarah? Is this your room?”
“Ja. I’m Sarah.” She smiled shyly.
“I’m Holly. I’m your cousin.”
“I know that. How old are you?”
“I’m six—but I’ll be seven on Christmas.”
“Your birthday is Christmas?”
“It’s the day before Christmas. Christmas Eve,” Holly proclaimed proudly.
Sarah nodded with approval. “That is nice.”
Holly just shrugged, then pointed to Rachel. “This is Aunt Rachel. Her birthday is three days before mine.”
Sarah looked as if she was figuring something in her head. “Is your birthday on Tuesday?” she asked Rachel.
“Yeah, I guess so,” Rachel said, not eager to be reminded. Now she smiled at Sarah. “When’s your birthday?”
“I just had it. November thirtieth. I turned eleven.”
“Wow.” Holly looked impressed. “That’s pretty old.”
“Ja. But not as old as my three brothers.”
“You have three brothers?”
“Ja.” She held up three fingers, counting them off. “
Jacob is the oldest. He’s seventeen. And Noah is fifteen. They’re both out of school now. Ezra is thirteen. He’s still in school like me.”
“Wow.” Holly looked stunned. “That’s a lot of brothers.”
“Ja. But now I have a sister.” Sarah put a loving arm around Holly’s shoulders.
“I’ve always wanted a sister,” Holly said, but she gave Rachel a sideways glance, as if she was unsure.
“You have got one now,” Sarah proclaimed. Then she frowned at all of Holly’s stuff. “But Mamm will not be happy to see all this.”
“Who is Mamm?”
“Mamm?” Sarah’s brow creased. “Our mother. That’s Mamm.”
“Oh.”
“Amish use some different words,” Rachel explained to Holly.
“Ja. We speak English mostly, but we also speak the Dutch.”
“Which is a form of German,” Rachel explained and then wondered why she’d bothered. So much for Holly to take in. Why add to it?
“And what do you call your father?” Holly asked with adultlike interest.
“We call him Daed.”
“I called my daddy Dad sometimes. But mostly I called him Daddy.”
“I’m sorry that your parents died,” Sarah said with a serious expression. “I never met my aenti Miriam. She was Mamm’s only sister, and Mamm thinks I look like her.”
Holly peered at Sarah, looking her up and down, but then she just shook her head. “No. My mother was older and bigger than you.”
Rachel chuckled. “I think she means her coloring. See, Sarah has golden brown hair like your mommy did. And her eyes are the same color of blue.”
“Oh.” Holly nodded. “I guess you do look like Mommy. Maybe she looked like you when she was a little girl.” Holly reached over to take Rachel’s hand. “My mommy says I look like Aunt Rachel.” She smiled up at her. “That’s right, isn’t it?”
“That’s what your mommy used to say,” Rachel said quietly.
Sarah spotted Holly’s American Girl doll and pointed at it with a shocked expression while her other hand flew up to cover her mouth. “Mamm is not going to like that.”
Holly grabbed up Ivy with the possessiveness of a protective mother. “Why not? What’s wrong with her?”
A Simple Christmas Wish Page 5
