Amish Celebrations

by Beth Wiseman

  Bruce was pacing, the check still in his hand, when Joan returned.

  “Who turns down three thousand dollars?” He held up the check, shaking his head.

  Joan sat down in one of the chairs facing his desk, so Bruce went and sat down across from her.

  “The Amish are simple people. You know that.” Joan locked eyes with him. Something was different about her, even though Bruce couldn’t put his finger on it. Maybe different makeup? He didn’t think she’d done anything new with her hair. But there was something. “You can’t always throw money at a problem, Bruce.”

  He grinned. “Well, it can’t hurt the problem.” When she scowled, he tried again to figure out what was different about her, but when she didn’t stop frowning at him, he said, “I hear you, Joan. I know money can’t fix everything.” If that had been the case, he’d have spent his entire fortune to save Lucy.

  “Do you know what that little girl told me?” Joan sat taller, and for a split second, he thought he saw Joan’s lip tremble, but his assistant wasn’t one to cry. He could count on one hand the times he’d seen her cry over the past twenty years. “She said she wasn’t supposed to know that her mother was here seeing Santa Claus, but she overheard her parents talking. Then she said that Santa Claus had misunderstood her, that they don’t need money. She said they needed help, that her mother needed help.”

  Bruce raised both shoulders, then lowered them slowly. “What kind of help?”

  Joan folded her hands in her lap and squinted one eye at him. “I suppose I can guess. The kind of help a young mother needs when she’s got a crew of little ones close in age.”

  “Isn’t that just something you get through?” Bruce wasn’t sure since he’d never had any kids of his own.

  “Yes, of course. And we all have meltdowns in the process.” She paused, a faraway look in her eyes. “But this is something else, I think.” Refocusing on Bruce, she said, “I’d like to take a day off later in the week and go visit that young woman and her children, if that’s okay with you.”

  Bruce didn’t think he’d ever denied Joan time off. “Sure.”

  “It’s something else the little girl said to me. It greatly disturbed me, and I’d like to just pay them a visit.”

  Bruce nodded. “Okay.” He waited for her to elaborate about what the child said, but Joan just sat there. Bruce was still trying to peg whatever it was that was different about her, squinting as he tilted his head to one side.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  He grinned, pointing a finger at her. “Because there is something different about you today, and I can’t figure out what it is.”

  She chuckled. “Well, you are very observant.” She tapped a hand to her knee. “Okay, I’m heading back to my office. It’s my day to play collection agency, so I have lots of calls to make.”

  After she stood up, he said, “Aren’t you going to tell me what’s different?”

  “Nope.” She raised her chin, followed by a thin-lipped smile.

  For the second time in the past thirty minutes, Bruce rubbed his chin, lost in thought. Joan was an open book. She’d always been that way, transparent. Now she wasn’t telling him what the little girl said, and she wasn’t telling him why she looked different.

  He shook his head and buried himself in a file. But he couldn’t concentrate on the drawings he was supposed to be reviewing. Something niggled at him in a strong way.

  Something about Joan.

  CHAPTER 3

  Gabriel’s stomach began to churn on his way up the porch steps, triggering guilt. He should be excited to come home to his family after a hard day’s work. But he was always afraid of the chaos that awaited him. Would all of the kinner be accounted for? Would supper be burnt and a sandwich in its place? How many children would be wailing or in need of attention? He could cope with all of that, even if it made him fearful at times. But the one thing he dreaded the most was the misery in his wife’s eyes, as if she’d been sentenced to prison for a crime she hadn’t committed. And with each day that passed, he felt them slipping further and further away from each other.

  He took a deep breath, filling his lungs with cold air before he opened the door. The fire in the fireplace was barely flickering, mostly orange coals glowing amid a heap of ashes. Sidestepping a pile of toys, he slowed his pace and stopped. It was quiet. Eerily quiet. By the time he reached the kitchen, his heart hammered against his chest. Where is everyone? He eyed the pot on the stove, and when he lifted the lid, a pleasant aroma wafted up his nostrils, but when he put a finger to the side of the pot, it was cold. They’ve been gone awhile.

  “Mary?” he called out when he was back in the living room. “Wie bischt! I’m home.” Gabriel hurried to the stairs, taking them two at a time as he called his wife’s name again, but after a quick look in all the bedrooms, he was sure they weren’t home. He looked out the window in the boys’ room. It was close to dark, but he could see Mary’s buggy in the barn. And in the distance, he could see a buggy coming down the narrow road to their house. The churning in his stomach relocated to a burning pain in his chest as he ran down the stairs, out of the house, and across the yard to meet the visitor.

  Breathless, he stared into his father’s eyes. “It’s Rachel Marie, isn’t it?”

  His father nodded. “Ya. Mary called a driver from the shanty, and once he arrived, she piled all five kinner into the van and went straight to the hospital.” Daed reached through the open window of the buggy and touched Gabriel’s shoulder. “The girl is going to be all right. I think she just gave Mary a scare when her face turned a frightening shade of blue, like it does sometimes, but they’ve already put Rachel Marie through the normal drill, and Mary will be heading home with her soon. We have the other four kinner at our haus. Big Jake’s boy works at the hospital. You know, he went Englisch and all, and he delivered the other children to us when he could see Rachel and Mary would be awhile. He will also drive them home.”

  Gabriel tried to slow his breathing as his teeth chattered. Thank You, God. “Danki for coming out here to let me know, Daed.”

  “Your mamm and I knew you’d be frantic when you didn’t find them at home.”

  Gabriel nodded, swallowing back a lump of worry that had been forming in his throat. “We’ll make arrangements to get the rest of the kinner tomorrow morning.”

  Daed lowered his eyes for a few moments before he looked back at Gabriel.

  “Um . . .” His father ran his hand the length of his beard. “Jake’s boy is picking up the rest of your bunch from our haus on the way home.”

  Gabriel’s heart sank to the pit of his stomach as more guilt scurried to the surface. He loved his children, but it sounded heavenly to have only their oldest daughter at home tonight. No bath-time squabbles, no mound of dishes in the sink overnight, and only Rachel to tend to. Maybe Gabriel and his wife could even spend some time in the bedroom doing something besides sleeping. Mary’s head barely hit the pillow each night before she fell into a deep slumber.

  “Danki again, Daed.” Gabriel gave a quick wave before his father backed up the buggy, and he cast his eyes to the darkening sky. And thank You, God. How many times had they prayed for Rachel Marie’s good health? The Lord continued to bless them, and Gabriel was going to keep that in mind when his exhausted wife and five children got home.

  As he cleaned the dishes in the sink from Mary’s supper preparation, he thought about his parents. Gabriel had three sisters, all considerably older than him and living with their families in Philadelphia. Gabriel was an uncle to their combined fourteen children. He could recall his parents babysitting his sisters’ children often before the girls and their families chose to leave the district for something less conservative. The move had been hard on his parents, but his folks were grounded in Old Order traditions, with no desire to relocate somewhere more liberal.

  He dried his hands on the kitchen towel, then turned the burner on to warm up the stew. Women’s work. But Gabri
el had learned long ago that Mary had trouble keeping up with the household and the children, so he tried to help when he could. His thoughts drifted back to his parents. It was clear they didn’t want to babysit Gabriel’s children. Gabriel thought he knew why—his home and family life were just too disorderly for his aging parents. But his acknowledgment of that fact stung and brought forth a lump in his throat.

  “I’ll only be a few minutes,” Mary whispered to Jake as Rachel slept on one of the long seats in the van. Her heart had sunk when she’d heard she had to pick up the other four children tonight. What would one night with just Rachel Marie have been like? Maybe a quiet supper, devotions with Gabriel, and an early night to bed? What would an extra few hours of sleep mean? Everything. But Rachel Marie was okay this time, and she silently thanked God for that.

  Elizabeth answered the door holding Leah as Katie tugged on Elizabeth’s blue dress. Leah was trying to catch her breath from crying. Her youngest always cried. The corners of her mother-in-law’s mouth edged up for a few seconds, but barely enough to even call it a smile. Mary saw the twins rolling on the floor in the background.

  “Danki for keeping the kinner, Elizabeth.” Mary reached out her arms to take Leah.

  “Ach, you’re welcome, Sarah. I’m sorry we can’t keep the kinner overnight.” Elizabeth picked up Katie before she closed the door behind Mary and Leah. Sarah was Gabriel’s sister’s name, but Mary didn’t say anything about the name slipup.

  Mary waited for her mother-in-law to give a reason why the kinner couldn’t stay the night, but Elizabeth practically ran to the couch and began stuffing diapers, baby wipes, snacks, and two bottles into the diaper bag. “Time to go, boys.” She walked to where the twins were rolling around.

  Once Elizabeth had herded them all toward the door, Mary thanked her again as she swallowed back tears in her throat. As she walked to the van, she cried out to God in her mind. Please, Lord, help me. I need help.

  Bruce fluffed his pillows behind him and began flipping TV channels with the remote. He landed on It’s a Wonderful Life. Jimmy Stewart at his finest. He reached for his cup of raspberry tea. Lucy had loved this classic Christmas movie—and raspberry tea. Bruce could still see her in bed next to him, but the vision wasn’t as strong. The first few months, the scent of his wife had comingled with memories in a way that was awful and wonderful at the same time. But now he seemed lost in a time warp where he was unable to move forward, but the past was fading. He’d never forget Lucy, and he’d love her until the day he died, but he couldn’t see her as clearly in his mind’s eye.

  Joan. His longtime assistant and friend was at the forefront of his mind this evening also. He pictured her dressed as an elf and smiled. After a few moments he picked up his cell phone and found her phone number. When Phillip answered, Bruce held the phone out to make sure he’d dialed the right number, and he had.

  “Hey, buddy. Your mom around?” Bruce remembered when Phillip was born. He’d always been a good kid. Is twenty a kid? It seemed so to Bruce.

  “Hey, Bruce. No, she’s not here right now, and she forgot her phone.”

  “Oh, okay.”

  “But actually, I’m glad you called.” Phillip exhaled a heavy breath of air. “I’m moving out in a couple of weeks. A guy at work has a room for rent. His roommate got married, and he’s making me a good deal. It’ll be closer to work too. But I’m worried about leaving Mom alone. Maybe you can help me soften the blow.” He chuckled a little.

  “Well, it sounds great to me, but you’ll be the last kid to leave the nest, so I suspect it will be a little rough on her. But I think she’ll be okay.” Bruce paused as he pictured Joan shuffling around that big house by herself. “I’ll keep an eye on her.”

  “Thanks, man. I appreciate it.”

  Bruce glanced at the clock on his nightstand. “Where’s your mom at this time of night anyway?” Joan avoided nighttime driving if possible.

  “Well, can you believe this . . . She’s on a date.”

  Bruce stiffened as he sat up. He couldn’t recall Joan ever going on a date. She probably had when she was younger, but Bruce hadn’t known about it. “Uh, oh. Anyone I know?”

  “Yep. That guy at your office. Matt.”

  Bruce searched his mind. There were sixty employees at his company, and the name Matt wasn’t ringing a bell. “I can’t place anyone named Matt. What department is he in?”

  “I’m not sure, but he’s an architect.”

  Bruce let out a half-hearted grunt. “Well that narrows it down.”

  “Hey, man . . . it’s your company. You’d know better than me.” Phillip chuckled. “Yeah, she was pretty excited. She got her hair done and bought some new makeup that she said would cover her wrinkles.” He laughed. “I figure since the guy works at your company, he’s probably pretty safe.”

  So it was her hair and makeup that looked different.

  “You want me to give her a message?”

  Bruce scratched his forehead. “Um, nah. That’s okay. It can wait.”

  After he’d wished Phillip a good night and hung up, he swung his legs over the side of the bed. He’d bought a huge bag of chocolate chips since late-night sweets had become a habit. But he wasn’t hungry. He tried to force a yawn, but he wasn’t tired anymore either. His chest was so tight he could barely breathe. Maybe I’m having a heart attack. He took a deep breath and quickly ruled out a heart attack, even though he’d never had one. But his stomach cramped and churned like he’d been punched in the gut.

  Joan . . . and Matt. The churning worsened.

  CHAPTER 4

  Mary sat on her bathroom floor with the door shut and the water running in the sink. She could still hear Leah screaming from her playpen, and she’d left Katie in the playpen also. Rachel Marie was keeping an eye on the twins, who were rolling toy cars across the wood floor in the kitchen. It didn’t take long for the boys to find mischief, and Rachel Marie liked to feel in charge even though she was younger.

  She covered her face with her hands and cried. The soothing sound of the running water calmed her and kept her children from hearing her. She only needed a few minutes. Sobbing never helped. It almost always left her with a headache. Then she’d return to her children and do her best to meet all of their needs.

  After a couple of minutes, she stood up and turned off the water as a wave of nausea wrapped around her. Mary tried to recall if she’d eaten this morning. Yes, I had eggs and a biscuit. Then she brought both hands to her chest, stared at herself in the mirror, at the dark circles, then cried again. Am I pregnant? The thought caused her knees to go weak, and Leah’s cries were becoming louder. Mary blew her nose and dried her tears as best she could before she went to the baby.

  “There, there,” she said as she picked up Leah, who was wet again. Katie was on her back in the playpen sucking her thumb, her eyes heavy. Samuel and John were still in the kitchen, and Rachel Marie was now lying on the couch resting. Mary thanked God again that her oldest daughter was okay, just tired. As she set to changing Leah’s diaper, she heard a car coming. Oh no. She glanced around the living room. Two plates on the coffee table, a spilled glass of milk, and toys everywhere. Leah was only in a diaper, Katie had a spill on the front of her light blue dress, and the boys had dressed themselves. Mary hadn’t paid attention to what they were wearing. Rachel Marie was covered with a blanket on the couch.

  Mary walked to the window with Leah on her hip. A woman stepped out of a maroon car, and Mary tried to place where she’d seen her. The older lady was within a few feet of the porch when Mary recognized her. The Englisch woman who read to her children earlier in the week, the one who had dressed like an elf in the store. Mary could feel her face turning several shades of red when she opened the door.

  “Wie bischt. Hello.” Mary pushed back strands of hair that had fallen from beneath a kapp that was surely on crooked. She couldn’t recall the woman’s name. “Can I help you?” She hoped the woman wasn’t here to convince her to take her b
oss’s check.

  “I hope you don’t mind me stopping by. I was in the neighborhood, and I couldn’t resist dropping off these apple turnovers.” The Englischer held up a box. “I know that all of you Amish folks are wonderful bakers, but these are different.” She laughed, which lent a more calming effect than the running water in the bathroom had done. “You’ll just have to trust me.”

  Mary remembered the woman’s name. Joan. With Leah still on her hip, quiet now, Mary accepted the box. “That’s very kind of you. Danki.”

  “Hello, sweet Leah. How are you today?” Joan smiled, then Leah did too. Mary almost smiled, which would have been the first in a while.

  Mary could already feel the burn of embarrassment rising in her cheeks, but she couldn’t leave Joan on the front porch shivering. “Would you like to come in?” Please say no.

  “Well, I wouldn’t mind spending a little time with these angels, but I don’t want to impose.”

  Leah couldn’t have picked a worse time to bolt from Mary’s arms and into Joan’s, who chuckled as she took hold of the baby.

  “Please come in.” Mary stepped aside, watching Joan closely, waiting for a look of disdain to cross her features, but if she’d noticed the state of Mary’s living room, she didn’t let on.

  Rachel Marie sat up. “You’re the elf lady.”

  “Why, yes I am.” Joan’s blue eyes glowed as she bounced Leah on her hip. “And you are Rachel Marie King.”

  “Did you come to help Mamm?”

  Mary gasped as she scowled at her daughter. “Rachel Marie. Please hush.” Then she turned to Joan. “I’m so sorry, and I apologize for the mess. We were at the hospital last night with Rachel Marie, and I’m just . . . a bit behind.”

  Joan stopped bouncing Leah, and almost instantly Leah began to cry.

  “I think she has a wet diaper. I was just about to change it when you arrived.” Mary walked toward Joan to retrieve Leah, but there was a loud crash in the kitchen. “Excuse me.” Her heart thumped in her chest as she walked faster, stopping just over the threshold. Samuel and John stood over a broken fruit bowl, their rounded eyes lifting to hers as they both mumbled apologies.