Amish Celebrations

by Beth Wiseman

  Mary eased away from him. His eyes were filled with tears. “Gabriel, what is it?”

  “Mei mamm is sick.”

  Mary was quiet as her husband explained about Elizabeth. A typhoon of emotions engulfed her. Fear for Elizabeth, regret she hadn’t known sooner. But her mind bustled with ways she might be able to help her mother-in-law.

  It took a few moments for Gabriel to gather himself, but when they walked back into the kitchen, both Mr. Hanson and Joan were fussing over Leah and Katie, playing peek-a-boo and laughing. Mary smiled at the way the babies responded to their new friends. Even Rachel Marie was in on the game, covering her eyes and laughing.

  “I’m sorry about that,” Gabriel said. “I learned today that my mother is ill, and I needed to tell Mary about it.”

  “Oh dear.” Joan’s eyes widened as she focused on Gabriel. “I’m sorry to hear that. Is there anything we can do?”

  “Nee. Thank you, though.” Gabriel hung his hat on the rack by the door, then sat down in an empty chair by Leah, taking time to kiss the baby on the cheek. “They have been traveling to Philadelphia for my mother to get therapy for dementia, but they’d been trying to spare us this news.”

  “That’s a long trip,” Bruce said as he leaned back in his chair. “And it’s not a trip that can be made by buggy, I’m sure.”

  Gabriel shook his head. “Nee. But mei sisters and their families live there, so at least they have a place to stay. But it is still a hardship on them.” Her husband had already told Mary privately that his mother didn’t want folks around here to know about her condition, so she was a little surprised that Gabriel shared with these people he didn’t know well. But maybe that was why he felt comfortable telling them—they were outsiders. Although, as Mary glanced at Joan, the woman didn’t feel like an outsider at all.

  “I will pray for them, Gabriel.” Joan smiled a little before she looked at Bruce. “We should probably be on our way.”

  Mary cleared her throat. “You should stay for supper. There’s more than enough, and it’s the least we can do for the kindnesses you’ve shown us.” She glanced at Gabriel and wondered if she had overstepped. Her husband wasn’t going to change his opinion about outsiders overnight, no matter how kind and helpful Bruce and Joan had been, but he nodded.

  “Ya. Please stay.”

  “Well, I do enjoy these babies.” Joan touched Katie on the cheek and smiled, and then she winked at Bruce. “Seems like someone else does too.”

  Rachel Marie coughed, and everyone turned her way, but she took a sip of water and didn’t seem to notice that all eyes were on her. Mary wondered if there would ever be a time she didn’t worry about her oldest daughter.

  But for today, she was going to be grateful for her family, her husband’s honesty and change of heart, and she was going to pray for Elizabeth. A sense of strength was wrapping around her, a need to be stronger.

  Bruce thanked Mary for the meal, and when their hostess asked if they would like to stay for devotions, Joan said yes. Bruce wasn’t sure how to get out of it. Gabriel asked if Bruce wanted to join him in the living room while the women cleaned the kitchen, but then he said, “Actually, I think I’ll bathe Leah and Katie while the women take care of the kitchen. But please, relax on the couch. I’m very appreciative of the work you did around here today.” He paused, looking away. “Always so much to do, and I just hadn’t gotten to that fence.”

  “It did me a world of good to work outside.” Bruce smiled, and after Gabriel was gone, he looked down at the tear in his trousers. He chuckled a little. Working in a pair of eighty-dollar slacks and fixing the fence for an Amish family he barely knew when it was forty degrees outside hadn’t been on his radar. But he’d enjoyed the work, and the family was kind. Joan was right to follow her calling. Bruce thought again about the forthcoming devotions, unsure if he was ready to commune with God, but he was considering it.

  Gabriel laid Leah in her crib upstairs. Mary joined him and got Katie settled in her crib. He’d told Mary that things were going to be different, that he was going to help out more. Mary said that she felt stronger when Joan was around, and that the older woman encouraged her to keep to a schedule that allowed for flexibility. Gabriel still wasn’t sure about close friendships with outsiders, but his heart had been warmed to see Bruce—as he insisted they call him—and Joan interacting with their children, and Gabriel shouldn’t let one past event define who they were friends with. His mother’s incident might have been Gabriel’s first recollection of the outside world when he was young, but he had to believe that not everyone outside of their community was dishonest.

  “Do you think Bruce and Joan are Christians?” he whispered to Mary as he carried the lantern, both of them tiptoeing out of the girls’ room. “Bruce looked uncomfortable during devotions.”

  “Ya, they are Christians. Joan even prayed with me earlier in the day. But she told me that Bruce struggles with his faith. Apparently he took the loss of his wife quite hard, and Joan said he turned away from the Lord.”

  An alarm sounded in Gabriel’s mind, but he wasn’t going to allow it to control his choices right now. “Maybe we can help him find his way back.”

  Mary threw her arms around him in the hallway. “I love hearing you say this, and I think the changes we are both making will benefit all of us. But”—she eased away—“I feel badly for all the ill thoughts I’ve harbored about your mother. I just assumed she didn’t want to be around us because the children weren’t well behaved and because I’m not the best housekeeper. But I’m going to do better, and I’m thinking of ways I can help your mother.”

  They started down the hallway but slowed their pace when they got to the twins’ room. Both boys were tucked in bed. Samuel had a flashlight under the covers, but Gabriel chose to let it go. The boy liked to read and seemed to drift to sleep with a book, much like his father.

  When they got to Rachel Marie’s room, they paused again. Joan was softly reading a passage from Rachel’s Bible to her as Bruce looked on.

  “Look at the way Bruce is watching her.” Mary spoke so quietly that Gabriel could barely hear her.

  “Who? Rachel?”

  “Nee. Look at the way he is watching Joan. I’ve seen the way she looks at him too.”

  CHAPTER 11

  Bruce was nearing Joan’s street when his longtime friend said, “What a wonderful day this was.” She chuckled. “Some hard work, but helping that girl feels right to me. She won’t get it all figured out overnight, and I suspect those twins have plenty of mischief up their sleeves, but she needed to know she wasn’t alone. Parenting is the hardest job on the planet.”

  “You’re a good woman, Joan.” Bruce glanced in her direction before he turned onto her street. Even in the darkness, her eyes sparkled. Plenty of people had told Joan that she had “the light” over the years. Bruce wasn’t sure he ever understood what that meant until today. She lit up a room with her smile, she had goodness to a fault sometimes, but she also seemed to walk in God’s light. Bruce wanted to stay in her shadow on that trek.

  She touched his arm. “And you’re a good man,” she said. He’d hugged Joan hundreds of times over the years, he and Lucy both, but the feel of her hand on his shoulder was different today. His heart beat faster than normal. His jealousy over the time she’d spent with Matt was more than just a protective instinct. He loved Joan. Lucy had loved her too. So, what’s different? Something was different.

  “I guess you and Phillip will go to Texas for Christmas?” Bruce didn’t relish the thought of spending Christmas alone again, but it seemed better than the alternative—making small talk and pretending to be festive. He was sure a colleague or friend would ask him to dinner, like the past few years, and he’d decline again this year. But if Joan invited him for Christmas, he had decided he would go.

  “Actually, this will be the first Christmas without my family. Ever.” She moved her mouth from one side to the other, ping-ponging her dimples from one cheek to the ot
her. “Phillip informed me that he is planning to move out, but it won’t be until after the holidays. But he is going skiing in Colorado with two other young men over Christmas break. And the rest of the kids are taking their children to Disneyland over the holidays. They asked me repeatedly to join them, but that’s just not my thing. So, we will celebrate after the first of the year.”

  “Hmm . . .”

  “What about you? Will you choose to be alone on Christmas again this year?” Joan pointed a finger at him. “Yes, I know you were by yourself last year, even though you said otherwise at the time. Lucy wouldn’t like you being by yourself. You know how much she loved the holidays.”

  Bruce flinched. “Sorry. I just wasn’t ready to be around anyone on Christmas Day.” He tried to construct a sentence in his mind, a way to ask Joan to spend Christmas with him, but his nonverbal attempts didn’t sound right in his head.

  “Didn’t you love spending time with those children? They are just precious.” Joan paused. “You know, they invited me to have Christmas with them. Gabriel’s parents will be with his sisters in Philly, so it will just be Mary, Gabriel, and the kids.”

  Bruce smiled. “They invited me too. I was surprised since I barely know them.”

  She touched his arm again. “Good people recognize good people. And I think we should go.”

  Bruce put the car in park. He considered shaking his head and telling her he couldn’t, but a small inner voice whispered, Go.

  Mary threw up her breakfast before she’d even had time to clean the kitchen. She suspected her morning sickness would take hold of her for the first three months, as it had with her other pregnancies. The boys were out of school since Christmas was only two days away. After she’d gathered herself, she told the twins to sit at the kitchen table, that she needed to talk to them.

  “We are going to do things a little differently around here.” Mary put her hands on the back of a kitchen chair, glancing back and forth between Samuel and John. She pointed to a piece of paper on the table. “That is a list of chores that each of you will take care of. On the right side of the page is an empty box. When you complete the task, you get a star in that box. Once you have ten stars, you get a special treat.”

  It was the first of many changes Mary planned to implement in her effort to run her household more efficiently. She’d been concerned that a reward system for the boys wasn’t in line with a proper upbringing, but Joan had just chuckled. “We do what we can to keep our sanity,” she’d said.

  For the first time in her life, Mary didn’t feel alone. She could be a good mother and a good wife, and most days would never run perfectly, but she would do her best through prayer and patience.

  After the boys joined Rachel Marie in the living room, Mary set to baking two loaves of bread that she’d kneaded earlier. Gabriel came into the kitchen and wrapped his arms around her waist, tickling her neck with his beard.

  “Katie and Leah both have clean diapers, and they are in the playpen.” He kissed her softly behind her ear. “I have an idea for Christmas.”

  Mary turned to face him, and he kissed her tenderly, like a whisper at first, then with enough passion for her to consider abandoning the dishes. But she knew the babies wouldn’t be napping for a while. “What’s that?” she finally asked.

  She listened as her husband told her his thoughts about the holidays. “I think it’s a wonderful idea,” she said, kissing him again.

  Bruce woke up Christmas morning to the first snowfall of the season, and by the time he’d showered and eaten a light breakfast, a blanket of white covered his yard and car. He picked up his keys from the hutch by the front door, lingering at Lucy’s picture smiling back at him. Hesitating, he wondered if he should stay home.

  Go.

  Smiling, he eyed himself in the mirror, all repacked into the Santa Claus suit, by special request of Miss Rachel Marie King. The child had gone to a nearby shanty and called Bruce the day before, asking if he could please wear the Santa suit when he came for Christmas dinner. It seemed strange that she’d make such a request since Santa wasn’t part of Amish tradition. But it was Christmas, so Bruce figured he would indulge her. He’d asked her on the phone if it would upset her parents, and Rachel had assured him that it wouldn’t.

  He drove slowly to Mary and Gabriel’s house since a light layer of ice was forming on the roads. Large snowflakes cascaded from above, sticking to his windshield. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen a white Christmas.

  When he arrived at his destination, Joan was carefully stepping on the stone slabs that led to the porch, holding her hands out to each side for balance, a plastic grocery bag over her arm.

  Bruce caught up to her. It wasn’t until then that he realized he’d forgotten to stuff a pillow under his Santa jacket.

  “I wasn’t sure you’d make it.” Joan turned to face him, smiling. Her hair was in a tight ponytail, her rosy cheeks dimpling as she spoke. She wore a black coat that fell almost to her knees, and it was buttoned to her neck. But the green hose and pointed green shoes gave her away along with the elf hat she was carrying. “Why in the world do you think Rachel would call and ask us to dress up?” She laughed. “Very atypical for an Amish girl.”

  Bruce instinctively latched onto her elbow as they walked up the icy steps.

  “Oh my.” Joan looked above the door at a sprig of mistletoe. Bruce felt his face turning red. Then she knocked on the door.

  “There’s a note.” Bruce pointed to a piece of paper behind the screen, attached to the wood door.

  Joan opened the screen door, then leaned closer to the note. Bruce glanced at the mistletoe and cleared his throat. She turned around and met his gaze, and then she also looked up but quickly handed him the note. “It says to let ourselves in.”

  “I hope there’s not a problem. With five kids, you’d think we would hear some activity, even from out here.”

  Joan turned the doorknob and walked into a dark, quiet living room, Bruce following her.

  “I feel like someone is going to jump out and say, ‘Surprise.’ Or ‘boo.’” Bruce chuckled.

  “Mary? Gabriel?” Joan crossed through the living room toward the kitchen. “Anyone?”

  Bruce caught up with her. “I smell food.”

  Both their eyes landed on a larger piece of paper on the kitchen table. “Another note,” Joan said as she picked it up and read aloud.

  Dear Joan and Bruce,

  A driver picked us up early this morning to take us to Philadelphia to be with Gabriel’s sisters, their families, and his parents. Especially now, having learned his mother is ill, we want us all to be together. We are sorry if we deceived you, but we were afraid that the two of you would each stay home on Christmas Day. And that would never do for Santa and the elf lady.

  Joan laughed.

  There is a turkey with all the fixings inside the refrigerator, ready to be warmed up. Samuel and John stacked plenty of firewood outside the back door. There is even a bottle of eggnog in the refrigerator.

  We are thankful to know you. And we hope that you will enjoy this occasion to celebrate the birth of our Lord.

  Peace be with you, and Merry Christmas,

  Mary, Gabriel, and the children

  P.S. It was Rachel’s idea to ask you to dress up. She said you would understand.

  Joan looked up at Bruce and locked eyes with him, and then she lifted her gaze overhead as she walked around the kitchen. Someone had hung mistletoe in various places throughout the room.

  “You do realize this is a setup, right?” Joan lowered her eyes and found his. She pointed to the middle of the table. “Those candles aren’t normally there.”

  Bruce nodded as he picked up the box of matches that had been left on the table, and he lit the candles. But he couldn’t take his eyes off of Joan for more than a few seconds. He felt like he was seeing her for the first time, in a new and confusing way, but a cocoon of hope calmed his racing heart.

  “Why do you th
ink Rachel wanted us dressed up like this?” Joan waved her arms the length of her body.

  Bruce smiled. “I told her I believed in the magic of Christmas.” He paused. “Rachel told me that she believed in the power of prayer and that I should think about how much magic I would have if I prayed while wearing the Santa suit.”

  Joan folded her arms across her chest, grinning. “Smart girl. How’s that working out for you?”

  “Well . . . I guess I’m about to find out.” He dropped the matches on the table and stared at her. “I don’t want you going out with Matt.”

  Joan’s lips puckered as her eyebrows slanted inward. “Is that so?”

  “He’s . . . he’s not the man for you.” Bruce could almost feel Lucy nudging him on, saying, She’s your best friend. It’s okay to love her. But he looked away, lost in a singular world that longed for companionship, and not from just anyone. He wanted Joan by his side on the remainder of his journey, but he had no idea if that was even something that might interest her. But when her hand cupped his cheek, he felt the warmth in her touch all the way to his soul, and as he locked eyes with her, she smiled, then pointed above their heads.

  Bruce wasn’t sure he remembered how to kiss, but as he leaned down and found Joan’s lips, he lingered there, drawing her close to him, knowing their friendship was evolving into something more intimate.

  “I’ve been waiting a long time for you to do that.” Joan smiled up at him. Somehow her hands were in Bruce’s as they stood facing each other.

  They spent several more moments in each other’s arms, and Bruce was sure they had lots to talk about, maybe curled up on the couch in front of the fireplace later, but they both laughed when Bruce’s stomach growled at them.

  “Let’s get Santa some food.” Joan gazed at him one last time before she took off her coat and made her way to the refrigerator. Thirty minutes later, they had the food warmed and on the table. Bruce bowed his head when Joan did. And this time he had plenty to say. He thanked the Lord for allowing him to see Joan in a way that lifted his sorrow. He would always miss Lucy, but somehow a void was filling, and God was responsible for the joy he felt.