One Child

by Barbara Cameron

  Sarah bit her lip and blinked at the sudden rush of tears. “You’re such a gut friend to remind me that I must have faith. That’s what David keeps saying.”

  “You’ve been a good friend to me too,” Lydia told her, and she moved to hug Sarah again. “You listened to me when I needed it.”

  Sarah smiled. “That’s what friends are for.”

  The two women moved toward the kitchen.

  “You and Miriam are more than friends,” Sarah told her. “I’ve always felt that you were like sisters to me—and especially since Linda and her husband moved to Ohio. I miss her.” Sarah sighed. “I was hoping they’d be here this Christmas, but John is having surgery and can’t travel.”

  “Perhaps they can come for Easter.”

  “We hope so.”

  “Goodness,” Lydia said, her eyes widening as she looked at the plates set out on one counter. “Just how many kinds of cookies did you bake?”

  Sarah laughed. “I lost count. But Seth is here. None will go to waste.”

  The house filled quickly as more friends and family crowded in, bearing covered dishes and platters that wafted delicious aromas.

  Her favorite uncle and aunt were the last to arrive. “We stopped to check on your parents,” Aenti Mary said, as Sarah helped her hang her bonnet, coat, and shawl on pegs in the mudroom. “They’re feeling better, but they aren’t going to join us.”

  “The flu really laid them low,” Sarah said. “It won’t be the same without them tonight, but it’s best they stay in with this weather.”

  “It was gut you asked everyone to come earlier,” Onkel Sam said, hanging up his own things. “Bad storm coming in tonight.”

  “Everyone’s here,” Sarah told him, rising on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. His graying beard was bristly and cold.

  He held up his Bible. “I remember how when you were a little girl you would sit at my knee and listen to me read the story of Jesus’ birth.”

  “It’s still my favorite,” she told him.

  “Well, then, let’s get started.”

  After greeting everyone, Samuel took a seat in the place of honor, the most comfortable chair by the fire. The kinner raced to sit at his feet, just as Sarah had once done. She took a seat on a nearby bench and watched as, with great ceremony, her uncle fixed his reading glasses on his long, narrow nose and opened the Bible.

  “‘This is how the birth of Jesus Christ came about,’” he began.

  There was singing, much singing, of the old hymns in German after the Scripture and the readings. Sarah loved hearing the voices of her friends and family rise in songs of the season. There was no accompaniment; their voices were all that were needed to lift the songs to heaven. If she faltered a little on a song about the birth, no one noticed. David looked over at her, as if knowing that her thoughts had drifted to the baby they wished for. She smiled to reassure him.

  The kinner were well behaved as usual, but Sarah saw them looking in the direction of the kitchen. Many of them had helped prepare the food, or made homemade candy or sweets for gifts. But it wasn’t just eagerness to eat. All of them knew that when this day was over, Second Christmas, the gift-giving day, would be that much closer. Although the gifts, often homemade, would be modest compared to Englisch standards, they were still a treat to be anticipated and enjoyed.

  Finally it was time for the food: roast chicken, filling, mashed potatoes with browned butter on top, a bounty of vegetables that had been canned after the summer harvest. And the desserts! Oh, my, there were so many desserts . . . pumpkin and apple and custard pies, several strudels, a shoestring apple pie made by Seth’s mom, and every kind of cookie from molasses to ginger to raisin puff. Several of Sarah’s cousins took over the task of making and serving kaffi.

  Sarah felt David’s eyes on her as she moved around the room, offering a plate of cookies.

  “Everything looks wonderful,” one of her aunts paused to say as she looked over the plate of cookies. “You’ve outdone yourself, Sarah.”

  “Danki.”

  David watched his wife as she moved about, seeing to the needs of their guests. After two hours, the strain was showing. Others might not notice, but he knew the signs. He walked over to join her as she offered cookies to Miriam.

  Seth appeared at her elbow and chose a lemon snowflake cookie from the plate. Popping it into his mouth, he chewed appreciatively. “Mmm, I think this is my favorite.”

  “You said that about the last one,” Miriam reminded him, but her tone was fond. “If you don’t stop eating so many cookies, your stomach will burst.”

  He patted it and grinned. “It will be worth it.”

  When he reached for another, Sarah smiled and drew the plate back. “I’ll wrap some up for you to eat later. Tomorrow, perhaps?”

  “Your wife is cutting off my cookie supply,” Seth complained to David.

  Sarah held out the plate to her husband. “Cookie?”

  Instead of taking one, David took the plate and handed it to Seth, then grasped Sarah’s hand and led her from the room.

  “Thanks!” Seth called after them.

  “David, we have guests,” Sarah protested, but she kept the smile on her face.

  “They can do without us for a time,” he said quietly, refusing to let go of her hand. When they reached the kitchen, he took her other hand. “Look at me, Sarah.”

  Slowly she did as he asked. “I’m fine, David. Really.”

  “I told you before, Sarah,” he said, looking deep into her eyes. “There is no need to pretend with me.”

  “David, please. We talked about this earlier and ended up saying things we regretted.”

  He dropped her hands and stepped back. “Fine.”

  She threw up her hands. “See what I mean?”

  “Well, how am I supposed to feel? I thought we were doing better the last several months, that we were getting over the miscarriage.”

  “Getting over it?” Sarah whispered. “How do you ‘get over’ losing a baby?”

  He ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know.” He gave a quick glance at the doorway. “But we were doing better,” he repeated. “Then the past two weeks . . . I’ve felt like I can’t say the right thing, do the right thing.”

  She nodded. “It’s the anniversary. Naomi told me it was hard for them.” She took his hand and squeezed it. “But things feel different tonight. I’m enjoying myself, I really am. I’m glad everyone came.” Rising up on her toes, she gave him a quick kiss. “We should be getting back to our guests.”

  There was a joyful shriek, and two-year-old Rebecca ran into the kitchen and threw her arms around Sarah’s knees. Laughing, Sarah bent to pick up the child. “Where are you going, glay hotsli?”

  “Sorry, she got away from me!” Ruth, one of Sarah’s cousins, tried but failed to give her daughter a stern look. She bent down. “Come to your mamm.”

  Giggling, Rebecca just held on tighter to Sarah. “Farah,” she cried, using her version of Sarah’s name.

  It cut at David to see the way Sarah closed her eyes as she held the little girl. Then she opened them and handed Rebecca to her mother with an overly bright smile.

  “I’m enjoying teaching your kinner again this year. I can’t wait until this little one joins us.”

  “Me either,” her mother said dryly. “She can be a handful.”

  Ruth’s husband appeared in the doorway behind her. “Ruth? We should be leaving now.”

  She turned to look at him. “So early?”

  “You remember we talked about the weather. Everyone’s getting ready to go.”

  “And I am sure they are no happier than I am,” replied Ruth. “Oh well. At least the storm didn’t come in time to keep us from visiting today.” She bounced Rebecca on her hip. “Come, let us get your coat on.”

  Their guests found their wraps and said their good-byes.

  “We had such a wonderful time,” Aenti Mary told Sarah as the women cleaned up the kitchen. “I thought I wo
uld take some food by to your parents’ house on our way home.”

  Sarah hugged her. “Thank you. Tell them that I love them and hope to see them tomorrow. If they can’t come here, I’ll visit them.”

  Aenti Mary patted her cheek. “I will. They would have enjoyed seeing how you carried on their tradition tonight in your home.”

  One by one their guests left, bundled up against the rapidly lowering temperature. Snow swirled in the door each time it opened. Finally, the door stopped opening and shutting.

  And David was alone with his wife.

  “I’m glad that they don’t have far to travel with a storm coming. But God will watch over them.”

  Sarah nodded and turned to start straightening the kitchen, but David reached out and caught her hand, pulling her into his arms. She laid her head on his shoulder, and he held her. And finally she let go, as she hadn’t let herself do all the time they had entertained, all the hours leading up to it, all the days before.

  “I’m sorry,” she cried, wetting the shoulder of his jacket with her tears. “Sorry, sorry, sorry.”

  David stroked her back. “What are you sorry for?”

  “For being so sad sometimes. For thinking of myself too often. For . . . for . . .” She paused, then plunged on. “For failing you.”

  He pulled back then and frowned at her. “You have not failed me.”

  “But—”

  “I’ve told you time and again that you didn’t fail us. God has a plan for us, Sarah. You must believe that.”

  “I’m trying.”

  “I know,” he said, gathering her to him again. “I know. It’s hard, but we must be patient. The doctor said there’s no reason why we can’t have kinner. We must trust God to send them.”

  The storm started two hours later, with a fierceness they only saw several times a year. Sarah was grateful that all their friends and family would be safely tucked in their homes. The wind howled, and snow splashed against the windows.

  “Ready for bed?” David asked.

  “Be right there.” She walked over to the table by the front window and turned off the battery-operated candle she’d put there for the holidays.

  Hand in hand, they walked to the stairs and were halfway up when they heard someone pounding on the front door.

  Chapter Two

  Sarah looked at David. “Who would be out on a night like this?”

  David started back down the stairs, but she clutched his arm. “Wait! It could be someone bad—”

  “Or it could be a neighbor needing help,” he reminded her.

  “Look out the window first!” she cried, following him. Reaching into a drawer, she pulled out a packet of matches and lit the lamp that stood on a table near the door.

  The pounding got louder as David approached the door.

  “Help! We need help!”

  “Who is it?” David called out.

  “My name’s Jason. Our car went off the road!”

  “David, no! Don’t open the door!” Looking at him fearfully, Sarah touched her fingers to her lips and shook her head.

  David gave her a level look. “Sarah, let me handle this,” he said.

  “Please, I couldn’t find any other houses in the storm,” the man shouted. “I left my wife in the car, and it’s freezing out here.”

  David opened the door immediately.

  “I was about to give up hope!” the man said hoarsely, stumbling inside.

  Sarah was relieved to see a tall, thin man who wore wirerimmed glasses and an expensive looking Englisch-style dress jacket. She guessed he was in his thirties. As Miriam had done earlier, he took off the glasses and wiped at the fog on them.

  “I’m David Fisher, and this is my wife, Sarah.”

  “Jason Stevens. We’ve been driving around for hours,” he said. “I have no idea where we are.”

  “Paradise.” David shut the door.

  “Paradise, Pennsylvania,” Sarah added with a smile when Jason looked disbelieving.

  “Oh. Wow. We really did get lost. Kate’s always teasing me about not wanting to ask for directions.” He held out his cell phone. “I can’t get reception. The storm must’ve knocked out the towers. Can I use your phone?”

  David and Sarah exchanged a look.

  “We don’t have a telephone,” David told him.

  “You mean it’s dead.”

  “No, we don’t have a telephone in the house—” He broke off as the man stared at him, then his glance swept around the mudroom. His eyes widened as he saw David’s black felt hat and Sarah’s bonnet hanging on pegs on the wall.

  “You’re Amish.”

  “Yes. We have a cell phone I use for my business, but if yours isn’t working, I doubt mine is either,” David said. “You’re welcome to shelter here until the storm is over.”

  Jason cast a worried look behind him. “I left Kate in the car. I have to go back and get her right away.”

  “How far away is it?” David asked him, reaching for his coat. He pulled on boots, a wool scarf, and his hat. “I’ll go with you. Maybe I can get it started.”

  “It doesn’t matter if we get it started. I slid off the road.”

  “Then you’ll stay here tonight.”

  “Thank you.” Jason looked at the door. “Can we go now? I’m so worried about Kate.”

  “David, stop at the telephone shanty on your way,” Sarah suggested. “Maybe the regular phone lines haven’t been knocked down in the storm.”

  “Gut idea.”

  She watched him leave, her heart in her throat. He was walking off with a stranger into a bad storm. Quickly she sent up a prayer for her husband’s safety.

  Hurrying into the living room, she knelt at the hearth and got the fire going, then lit the lamps before going to the kitchen to make kaffi. The clock ticked, the sound echoing in the quiet room.

  What was taking so long? She’d never thought of herself as having much imagination, but now her mind whirled with fears and stories of bad things that happened to people caught outside in such conditions, even in familiar territory.

  When she heard the front door open, she ran to it.

  A woman entered, followed by Jason. Then David stepped inside, and Sarah felt her tension drain. He shut the door behind him and shook the snow from the brim of his hat.

  “You were gone so long I got worried!”

  “The car was much farther away than I thought,” David told her.

  “I knew I’d walked quite a distance,” Jason admitted. “I couldn’t see anything in the dark for so long. I was about to give up when I saw the light burning in your window. Sarah, this is my wife, Kate.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Sarah said. “Welcome to our home.”

  “I checked the telephone shanty, and the lines must be down,” David told Sarah as he took Jason’s coat and hung it up. “We need to get them warmed up quickly.”

  As if to confirm his words, Jason shivered. Sarah registered for the first time that he wore a dress shirt and pants with just a medium-weight jacket, hardly the kind of clothes to be wearing when tramping through the snow. His pants were soaked from the knees down, and when he moved, his shoes squished.

  The woman pulled off her knit cap, revealing a small, heart-shaped face and chin-length black hair. Her face was white from cold and strain.

  “Here, let me help you.” Sarah rushed to assist the woman as she fumbled with the buttons of her heavy coat, damp with melting snow.

  “Thanks. My fingers are so cold.”

  Sarah tsked-tsked. “You should have had gloves on.”

  Like her husband, Kate wasn’t dressed for such frigid cold. And although she had on ankle boots, they were dressy footwear, not practical for the elements.

  “We were in the car. I didn’t think we’d have to get out in the weather. It was supposed to just be a quick trip, but we got lost in the snowstorm.”

  She was shaking so hard with cold that Sarah could almost hear her teeth chatter. The last button undone,
Sarah looked on, startled, as the woman shed her coat.

  She caught Sarah’s expression and grinned. “Yup. Pregnant.” She laughed as she rubbed her huge abdomen. “I feel like Shamu the whale.”

  Sarah glanced at David and saw that he’d gone still. As she took the coat from Kate, the other woman’s hand brushed her arm.

  “Your hand is like ice.” Sarah pulled her shawl from a nearby peg and wrapped it around the woman’s shoulders. “Go on into the bathroom, and I’ll get you some dry clothes to wear.” She turned to Jason. “David will find you something to wear too.”

  “Let’s take care of Kate first,” he said. “I don’t want to chance her getting sick.”

  Sarah went upstairs and chose a flannel nightgown. After debating for a moment, she took one of David’s robes, reasoning that it would be roomier for Kate’s protruding stomach than her own garments.

  Returning downstairs, she knocked on the bathroom door and when Kate opened it, she handed in the clothing. “I think you’ll be comfortable in these.”

  “Thanks,” Kate told her, shivering.

  “Just leave your wet clothes in the sink and come get in front of the fire. Or if you want, you can take a bath.”

  “I think I’ll be fine just getting into dry clothes, thanks. The fire sounds great.”

  When Kate came out, she was hugging herself. “This feels so cozy. But I don’t think it’s yours, is it?” She held out her arms to show how she’d had to fold up the sleeves of the robe. Her bare toes peeked out from the hem that nearly touched the floor.

  Sarah laughed. “I thought David’s might fit you better. Let’s get some socks on you.”

  Kate handed them to Jason, and he stared at them blankly, then at her. She raised her eyebrows at him.

  “Oh, right,” he said. He knelt down to put the socks on her feet. “There you go, babe.”

  Kate grinned at Sarah and David. “He keeps forgetting I haven’t seen my feet in a month.”

  Sarah settled Kate on the sofa with a woven throw and brought out a quilt as well and tucked it around her. “How’s that?”