by Beth Wiseman
“Both of you, carefully step to your right and sit in a chair until I get this glass swept up.” Mary worked as quickly as she could. She’d left her three daughters with a stranger in the next room. When she returned, breathless, she smiled. Rachel Marie was sitting up, Leah was in Joan’s lap, and Katie was sound asleep in the playpen.
“I hope you don’t mind, but I could hear that you had a situation in the kitchen, so I went ahead and changed Leah’s diaper.” She tapped a finger to the end of Leah’s nose, which produced another smile. “And Rachel has been telling me about her ordeal at the hospital last night.” She winked at Rachel. “You’re a very brave girl.”
Mary opened her mouth to say something, but speaking was going to bring forth crying. She was so tired, and feeling like a failure as a mother was a heavy load as well. Mary and Joan locked eyes. For a split second, she was sure she saw her mother, and a tear slipped down her cheek. She tried to talk again but just lowered her gaze. The anniversary of her parents’ death had been the week before. The buggy accident was nine years ago, and as much as Mary wanted her mother to speak to her from heaven, she was sure Mamm would be disappointed in Mary’s mothering abilities.
“Don’t cry, Mamm.” Rachel’s tender, sweet voice echoed in Mary’s head, but instead of looking at her daughter, she found Joan’s kind eyes again. Still holding Leah, the older woman sat down beside Rachel Marie on the couch.
“Sometimes even mommies cry,” Joan said softly. “And your mommy probably does need a little help right now.” She winked at Rachel. “Maybe an angel whispered that in my ear.”
“Or Santa,” Rachel said in a whisper. Mary would have to make sure Rachel understood that only God made things happen, not Santa Claus. But as she glanced around at her messy house and dabbed at her wet eyes, it seemed like something she could get to later.
Joan smiled as she stood up with Leah. “You know, I find myself with nothing to do the rest of the day.” She moved a little closer to Mary. “Do you remember me telling you that my grandchildren lived far away?” Mary nodded. “It would mean the world to me if I could just spend a little time with these precious children today.”
Mary thought about her mother-in-law and the way she seemed to avoid her grandchildren. But this woman was a stranger. And she could already hear Gabriel saying, “She’s not Amish.” Her husband’s parents were more traditional than most, not having evolved with the times, and Gabriel had followed their lead, despite the bishop’s leniency about some things. None of them had cell phones, which had become more popular over the years. Neither Gabriel nor his father relied on gas- or diesel-powered farm equipment. Elizabeth used outdated kitchen tools even though battery-operated mixers and such had been available for a long time.
Rachel excused herself to the bathroom, and Joan waited until Rachel was out of earshot before she spoke.
“Perhaps you could take care of some other things while I’m here. Or even take a nap.” Joan smiled.
Mary couldn’t nap. She didn’t trust this woman enough for that. But having someone watch the children while she caught up on household chores would be a welcomed gift. It should have felt wrong, but it didn’t. “Are you sure?”
“I raised four children. We all need a little help from time to time. It’s the hardest job on the planet. And I really would love to spend some time here. But first”—Joan chuckled—“we’re going to need an apple turnover and some coffee.”
Mary felt lighter for the moment. And again, for a split second, she thought she saw her mother in this woman’s eyes.
Bruce leaned back in his chair and tapped a pencil against his desk. He’d planned to talk to Joan first thing this morning, but he’d forgotten she’d taken a day off. Dating employees wasn’t something he encouraged or forbade, but he was curious about the man who took Joan on a date on a Thursday night. He’d already scanned the employee roster. There was only one Matt employed at Hanson and Associates, and Bruce had only been around the guy a few times. He was an architect who had been on the payroll about a year, a single guy who had to be ten or fifteen years younger than Joan.
He set down the pencil, wondering how this Matt fellow could be a good fit for Joan. She was his employee, but also a good friend with a heart as big as Texas. Maybe she’d suspected her son would be moving out soon. Perhaps she was afraid of being alone. Bruce could understand that. But why a man so much younger than she?
Bruce began tapping the pencil against the desk again. Joan’s youthful glow and contagious smile made her look younger than fifty-two, even with her silver hair. He could see why any man, even one a decade younger or more, would be interested in her. But what could she see in him? Bruce supposed Matt wasn’t a bad-looking man, but what could they have in common? Joan had buried a husband at a young age and raised a family, with the last child about to be on his own.
All the analyzing had kept him unfocused on work for most of the day. Looking at the clock, he was surprised it was almost five. He wondered how Joan’s day had gone with the Amish woman and her children. It didn’t surprise him that Joan would reach out to someone in need, but there seemed to be an urgency in Joan’s mission that Bruce couldn’t grasp. He knew it was something the little girl had told Joan.
But right now he was more concerned about why Joan had gone on a date with Matt.
He was going to call her this evening. Just to chat, the way he’d planned last night. But first, he was going to find out more about this Matt fellow.
CHAPTER 5
Gabriel got his horse settled in the barn, then crossed the front yard toting his lunch pail. He’d made himself a ham and cheese sandwich that morning for lunch and tossed an apple in with it. Occasionally he longed for the taste of his mother’s chicken salad, which she used to send with him for work when he lived at home. But those days were years behind him, and he’d gotten used to making his own lunch after the twins were born.
As he pulled his black coat snug around him, breaths of cold air reminded him that it wouldn’t be long until Christmas. But as soon as the thought came and went, he silently prayed that this would be a good night, one filled with less disorder and maybe a little calmer than the usual way of life they’d settled into.
He opened the door, and a beefy garlic aroma filled his nostrils as he walked into a tidy living room. At first his chest tightened, recalling the empty house he’d come home to when Rachel Marie was in the hospital, but he turned an ear toward the kitchen and heard voices.
Gabriel felt as if the clouds had parted and revealed a slice of heaven to him, showering him with blessings. Leah and Katie were each in a high chair nibbling on crackers. When did we get a second high chair? Rachel Marie was helping Mary set the table by placing a steaming loaf of freshly baked bread in the middle. Gabriel couldn’t recall the last time he’d had anything besides store-bought bread, unless his mother sent some their way.
The twins were sitting at the table, quiet and patient. Gabriel could practically see the halos around their heads, and for a brief moment he wondered if he was dreaming.
“Good afternoon.” Mary smiled as she carried a pot filled with something that smelled wonderful. “Beef stew,” she said. “A new recipe.”
Gabriel’s wife resembled the seventeen-year-old girl he’d married, her cheeks rosy red, a smile on her face, and not a hair out of place from beneath her kapp. She looked happy, and a warm feeling settled over him. He’d felt like a failure for so long. Mary’s shortcomings when it came to family were his burdens to bear as head of the household. But at this moment he’d never been prouder of his wife, even if pride was frowned upon. He eyed the scene, hoping to capture it like a picture to take out and remember later if things went back to chaos.
“Mamm’s new friend spent the day with us, and she showed Mamm how to cook and clean and take care of babies.” Rachel Marie sat down in a chair beside Leah and wiped the baby’s mouth with a napkin before helping her drink from a small plastic cup.
Gabriel w
ished the friend who helped was his mother, but Rachel Marie would have referred to Gabriel’s mother as grandmammi. “What new friend?” Who in their district would have time to spend the day with Mary and the children? Gabriel should have told Mary how good everything looked and smelled, but in his mind he was already thanking God for this new friend, whoever she was.
“She’s Englisch.” Rachel Marie took in a long, deep breath, a reminder that she wasn’t well, but her cheeks were filled with color like Mary’s today. The hairs on the back of Gabriel’s neck prickled. He wanted to be grateful to this person who’d helped his wife, but he’d also worked hard to teach his children that they were unequally yoked with outsiders, thus they should always be polite to the Englisch but not seek close relationships.
Mary sat down at the table and didn’t say anything, so Gabriel took off his coat and hat, joining the rest of his family. After they’d bowed their heads in prayer, Gabriel reminded himself to be appreciative and grateful. Perhaps God had answered his prayers, but as often happens, not in a way Gabriel would have expected.
“So, who is your new Englisch friend?” He held out his bowl when Mary nodded to it. She spooned several ladles of stew for him. Next she filled Samuel’s bowl.
“She’s the elf lady from the mall.” Rachel Marie offered her bowl up next.
Gabriel raised an eyebrow as he looked across the table at Mary.
“Santa’s elf.” Mary winked at Gabriel, which would have been a welcomed gesture under different circumstances. He knew Rachel Marie had visited a Santa Claus at the store, and he knew about the check that had arrived—a check that he instructed Mary to return immediately. “She works for, um . . . Santa. The children and I saw her when we went on our errand. Remember me telling you we were going?”
Mary was talking in code to keep Rachel Marie from knowing about the returned gift, but Gabriel’s hunger pains transformed into churning balls of worry. “Why was she here?”
“She was in the neighborhood.” Mary shrugged. “And she wanted to drop off some apple turnovers for us. She ended up staying.”
“She has two jobs.” Rachel sat taller, smiling. “Working for Santa Claus and in a tall building too.”
Gabriel didn’t respond to his daughter as he stirred his stew. “She was here all day?” A stranger had spent all day at his home with his family. He glanced around the table at his clean and well-mannered children and at his lovely, calm wife. Was this woman an angel of mercy or . . . trouble? Gabriel suspected the latter. He recalled the last Englischer they’d gotten too close to, and things hadn’t ended well.
Mary pulled her white nightgown over her head, brushed her teeth, and headed to bed. Gabriel was already lying down. Normally he would have a book in his hands and then read for a while until he fell asleep—or so he said. Mary fell directly to sleep each night, so she was never sure how long he stayed up. But Gabriel didn’t have a book tonight. Instead, his hands were folded in his lap. It had been such an extraordinary day for Mary, and she was bubbling with leftover energy she planned to share with her husband. She snuggled up to him and kissed him on the neck.
She was confused when his neck tensed and he didn’t reciprocate any affection. Early nights with all the children tucked in and sleeping were rare. She eased away.
“What’s wrong?”
Gabriel twisted to face her, running a hand through her hair. “You look beautiful,” he said in a whisper, his eyes flickering from the light of the lantern, which met with the moonlight streaming in through the window. “And everything was great tonight, the meal, the kinner, the clean haus . . . all wunderbaar. But . . .”
Mary swallowed back the knot forming in her throat. Joan had lent her a much needed helping hand today, but she’d also given Mary ideas about how to organize her time and tend to her children. Mary wasn’t going to have a perfect house tomorrow, and things would still be in disarray, but she was hopeful she could take control of her life by applying some of Joan’s suggestions.
“What’s wrong?” she finally asked as her lip quivered.
Gabriel reached for her hand and squeezed. “I’m just worried that you let a stranger into our house, that she was with you and the children all day, and . . . she’s Englisch.”
Mary had grown up in a home that encouraged friendships between good people in general, whether Amish or not. It wasn’t how most of the families in her district thought, but Mary’s parents didn’t grow up Old Order. They’d been Beachy Amish—or New Order as some called it—prior to making a choice to join the Old Order. Some of her family’s less stringent rules and beliefs had carried over from that district to here.
Gabriel’s family was the opposite. For generations the Kings had adhered to the teachings of the Ordnung, with little leniency, even if the bishop approved a new and more modern way of life. Most Amish families were allowed use of a cell phone for business and emergencies, but Gabriel’s parents didn’t have one and neither did Gabriel and Mary.
“She didn’t feel like a stranger,” she finally said as she tucked her dark hair behind her ears. “She felt more like a . . .” She paused, reconsidering whether to verbalize her thought.
“Like a mother?” Gabriel frowned when she nodded. “You have a mother, my mother.”
She clenched her teeth. “Your mother has never tried to teach me how to run my household. I didn’t have siblings. I didn’t have an example to follow. Joan raised four children, and she gave me some great ideas about how to balance all of the things in my life, as well as suggestions about how to discipline the twins.”
Gabriel grunted as a twisted grin took over his features. “You are taking advice about disciplining our kinner from an Englisch woman you barely know?” He threw his hands in the air. “I’d rather put up with a messy house, burnt suppers, and dirty children before we let an Englischer tell us how to run our household.”
“Put up with . . .” Mary blinked back tears. She knew how he must feel about her role as a wife and mother, but hearing him say the words still stung. “And I don’t want your mother coming over to teach me how to run our household.” She bit her tongue, chiding herself for what she was about to say. “Your mother doesn’t want to be around our kinner.” Mary wanted to hurt him as badly as he’d wounded her, and as he lowered his head, she breathed in success—but it didn’t taste very good. “I’m sorry, but you know it’s true.”
He lifted his eyes to hers. “It’s not true. You’re just too stubborn to accept help.”
Mary’s lip trembled as she tried to think before she spoke. “I’m not stubborn. Running a household and taking care of five children is a lot of work.”
“Everyone else does it.”
A tear slipped down Mary’s cheek as she pressed her lips together, vowing not to say anything else. She was a failure, even if for a day a kind stranger had made her feel otherwise.
Gabriel hung his head for a few seconds before he looked up at her. “Mary, I’m sorry. I know you do your best. I love you, and . . .”
She pushed him away when he reached for her.
“Fine.” He rolled over onto his side.
Leah started to cry from upstairs. Katie chimed in a few seconds later. Samuel yelled that the babies were crying, and then faint grumblings from John and Rachel Marie could be heard.
Mary waited to see if Gabriel would offer to help her now that all five children were awake. As their children called out, she waited another minute.
Then she climbed out of bed to take care of their children. By the time she got on her robe and slippers, Gabriel was snoring.
CHAPTER 6
On Monday morning Joan tapped twice on Bruce’s door, then walked into his office before being invited, the same way she’d done for years. But today he shifted uncomfortably, loosened his tie a little, and picked up the familiar yellow pencil he’d taken to tapping on his desk lately.
“How was your weekend?” Joan smiled, glowing in a way that caused his breakfast from earlier to churn
in his stomach, and his pressure on the pencil became so taut, he feared it might snap in two.
Bruce leaned back against his chair, reclining slightly, and he put himself in check with the reminder that Joan was free to do whatever she wanted on her own time. Nevertheless, a muscle in his jaw flicked. “Well, I didn’t have a date over the weekend.” He forced a smile to see if she’d offer up information about her and Matt.
“Nor did I,” she said as she sat down in the chair on the other side of his desk, folding her hands in her lap.
Scowling, Bruce stared at her. He couldn’t recall a time Joan had ever lied to him. “What about Matt? That wasn’t a date?”
She pressed her mouth into a thin-lipped smile, which felt like she was mocking him, and Bruce could see an invisible line of defense building. “My date with Matt was last Thursday, not over the weekend.”
Bruce felt the kick in his shin all the way to his heart. Yep, she’s right. He straightened, moved forward in his chair, and folded his hands on his desk. “We’re friends, right?”
“The best of friends.” Her smile was more genuine now.
“Then why didn’t you tell me you were dating someone here at the office? Did you think I’d give you a hard time about it?”
She raised an eyebrow, barely grinning. “It sounds like you’re giving me a hard time about it now.” She paused, squinting a little. “And we aren’t dating. It was just one dinner.”
Bruce let out the breath he’d been holding as relief swept over him, which was confusing, and it left him with a brain fog he wasn’t used to. “Oh.” He was going to need more time to process this, so he decided to change the subject. “How’d it go with the Amish family Friday?”
