An Amish Christmas: A Novel

by Cynthia Keller

  “I know we’ve gone back to 1742,” Lizzie said with sarcastic sweetness, “but could you please wake me when it’s the present again?”

  Meg yanked open the door. “Not funny, Lizzie.” She looked past her daughter to scan the hallway. “And please shush. They might hear you.”

  The girl rolled her eyes. “Relax, there’s no one up here but us. I looked. But come on, Mom, we’re in some kind of time warp. We’re in Little House on the Prairie! Which, by the way, was on the bookcase downstairs! Are you kidding me? Please just get us out of here tomorrow first thing.”

  James looked up at her. “How should I do that, Liz?” he asked in annoyance. “Build a car with paper-towel tubes and duct tape?”

  Lizzie’s expression turned dark. “I don’t care what we have to do, but I’m not staying here a minute more than I have to.”

  Meg kept her annoyance in check. “Go on back to your room. We should all get some rest.”

  “It’s nine-thirty! Who goes to bed at nine-thirty?”

  “Tonight,” Meg replied, “we do. And remember to make your bed in the morning and clean up after yourself in the bathroom. We’re guests, so let’s behave like guests.”

  “It’s weird up here, all deserted. Everything’s so ugly.”

  “Good night, sweetheart.” Meg gently closed the door.

  “Sure, what do you care?” Lizzie’s complaints grew fainter as she moved down the hall. “You’re not sharing a room with someone who thinks this is the eighteenth century.”

  Meg felt she couldn’t move another muscle. She found one of her nightgowns in her suitcase, slipped it on, and crawled under the covers, falling instantly into a deep sleep.

  Waking up now, she was amazed that her body, which had felt tired but fine the night before, could be so stiff and sore.

  She looked at James, asleep in the other bed, then reached for her watch on the night table. The slight movement made her feel as if every single muscle in her body were screaming in protest. It was seven-forty.

  “James,” she called out, slightly panicked, “wake up! We’re supposed to be downstairs at eight. That’s in twenty minutes!”

  He mumbled something and rolled away from her voice. With a long groan, Meg forced herself to sit up.

  “You have to get up,” she said with more force as she made her way to her purse for the small bottle of ibuprofen she always kept there. She was particularly sore on her side, where James had collided with her at the moment of impact.

  “Oh, wow, everything aches.” James stared at the ceiling, tentatively stretching out his arms.

  “Here, you want two of these?” She held out the bottle. Whatever their problems were, for now she would have to put aside her resentment toward James to get through the situation. “We have to wake the kids up. I’m sure they’re dead asleep, and we’re supposed to have breakfast now.”

  Grumbling, the children threw on their clothes and headed downstairs, Lizzie still limping slightly. By the time they had all assembled in the kitchen, it was nearly eight-thirty. Meg saw that Sam had a huge, angry-looking lump on his forehead, but he didn’t say anything about it, so she didn’t bring it up.

  They found five places set for them at the table, including glasses filled with orange juice. There were several boxes of cereal, a plate with chocolate-chip cookies, doughnuts, and what appeared to be homemade zucchini bread, plus a bowl of strawberry preserves. Next to all of that were pitchers with milk and water. The room was dim, and Meg realized that the windows were the only source of light. Of course, she thought. No electricity, but it was daytime, so it wouldn’t be necessary to light lamps or candles.

  Meg looked around. “I have to say, this house is so clean, you could perform brain surgery on the floor of any room.”

  The Hobart children sat down at the table and glowered. Lizzie touched the flowered plastic place mat with distaste. “Gross.”

  “These aren’t normal cereals,” Will complained. “What is this, all generic?”

  “They’re the same as cornflakes and Cheerios,” James answered.

  “My bed was so hard, I might as well have slept on the floor. And if I hadn’t had my own blanket, I would have frozen to death under that thin thing they had on the bed.” Lizzie reached for a cookie.

  Meg ignored her remarks. “Did you see their daughter?”

  “I saw her at some point, but she woke me up by accident, and it was dark, so I don’t know if it was when she came in or got up to leave.” Lizzie grinned. “Maybe she was out until all hours. These people are party animals.”

  Will laughed and high-fived his sister.

  The door opened, and Catherine Lutz came inside, her face flushed with the cold. Will and Lizzie immediately fell silent. Sam poured himself a bowl of cereal.

  Catherine removed her black cape, talking cheerfully as she hung it on a hook. “Good morning. I thought you might need some more sleep, so I just put this out. I can make you some hot food now. Eggs and ham? Coffee?”

  “No, thank you,” James answered. “This is plenty. But coffee would be great.”

  David Lutz appeared behind his wife, wiping his feet on the doormat before he came in. “Ah, I’m in time to sit with you. How are you folks feeling today?”

  “Like the doctor warned us,” Meg said. “We’re stiff, but it’ll pass.”

  David sat down at the head of the table. “Would one of you like to say grace?”

  Sam, who had been reaching for the milk pitcher, froze, then dropped his arm into his lap. Will’s and Lizzie’s eyes widened.

  Meg had no idea what constituted grace for these people. She doubted James did, either, which he confirmed with the note of doubt in his voice. “Uh, thank you, but no. It’s your house, so please, you go ahead.”

  David nodded. “Our Father, who art in Heaven …”

  Oh, thought Meg with relief, it’s the Lord’s Prayer. What had she been expecting? She and James joined in, their children sitting silently, the two elder ones doing a poor job of hiding their pained expressions. The Lutzes, Meg saw, either didn’t notice or were gracious enough to pretend they didn’t.

  “Where is everybody?” Will asked when they had finished. He took a bite of a doughnut. “Are you the only people here?”

  David smiled. “Oh, there are lots of people here. The younger children are at school. The older ones are doing chores. Some of our children are married and don’t live here, but they’ll be by at some point. They live in the houses nearby, so the grandchildren run in and out a lot, too. Be careful you don’t trip on them.”

  “Whoa,” said Lizzie in surprise before she caught herself.

  Meg realized that her daughter had never been exposed to an extended family living so close to one another. They barely had relatives, much less ones that might run in and out a lot.

  “You didn’t get to meet Amanda yesterday,” Catherine said to Lizzie, “but she’s breaking up the ice in front of the barn, and she’ll be in a little later.”

  Lizzie’s forced smile matched the tone of her words. “That’s great.”

  Catherine brought over a pot of coffee and poured cups for Meg and James. “It snowed a little during the night, but mostly there is ice now.”

  “When you’re done with your coffee,” David said to James, “we can find out the situation with your car. I’ll take you over to the repair shop.”

  James looked grim. “We’d better find out what we’re dealing with. Thanks.”

  Meg saw that her children had finished eating. “Kids, why don’t you clear your plates, then run upstairs and make your beds?”

  “Sure, you bet.” Will jumped up with false cheerfulness.

  Meg happened to catch James’s eye. She saw he was no more pleased with their older children’s behavior than she was.

  Finally, David and James left, and Meg was alone with Catherine, helping to clean up.

  “How many children do you have?” Meg asked, stacking dirty dishes in the sink. She tried to ign
ore the soreness that accompanied her every move.

  “Nine,” Catherine said.

  “Nine children,” Meg echoed in amazement.

  “Two are married. You met Jonathan and Eli. There’s Amanda, who’s sixteen, and Benjamin, who’s seventeen. The youngest are Aaron and Rachel. They’re eleven and eight. They were visiting at my sister’s house last night. And then there’s my daughter Barbara. She’s getting married next week.” Catherine began washing the dishes.

  “Really?” Meg asked in surprise. “Next week?”

  “Yes. We’re having family and friends from all over to celebrate.” She gave a little grin. “And do lots and lots of eating. The lunch and evening supper will be across the road at Joseph’s house. He is one of the married children I told you about. About three hundred people are coming.”

  Meg reached for the small towel that was resting near the dish rack. She tried to picture herself being as calm as this woman if she were having three hundred guests at her house in a week.

  “How will you manage …” Meg hesitated, wanting to ask more, but fearful she would say something foolish.

  “Everyone helps,” Catherine said. “Lots of people cooking, serving food, cleaning up.”

  Meg dried a pitcher, feeling ignorant and nosy at the same time. She didn’t ask any further questions, and Catherine finished the rest of the dishes without volunteering anything else. When she was done, she excused herself. “It’s laundry day. I know you’re not feeling well, so you rest.”

  “You know, Catherine, I really don’t know what will happen with the car,” Meg said. She paused, unsure what she wanted to say or ask.

  It was obvious the car wasn’t going to be ready to go anywhere today, but they had no place else to go. Maybe the Lutzes would take them to a motel or something. Meg dreaded the idea of the five of them cooped up in a motel room for an indefinite period. Not to mention the cost. Yet they couldn’t impose on these people any further. For all Meg knew, they hated having non-Amish people in their house.

  Catherine looked at her. Her eyes, Meg realized, were a pale blue. They crinkled at the edges as she gave Meg a warm smile. “You’re welcome to stay here as long as you wish.”

  “I … We can’t …”

  “You can if you want,” Catherine said simply, heading out through another door leading from the room.

  Chapter 8

  Having persuaded Catherine that she was indeed up to performing some sort of work, Meg sat on the couch next to a veritable mountain of towels. Catherine had brought them to her from an outside clothesline, and they were cold and rigid from the December air. Meg shook them out as best she could with her sore shoulders, then folded them into thirds and in half. She paid close attention to the task, wanting this minimal contribution to be done properly. These people clearly had very high standards, at least in housekeeping, and she didn’t want anybody to have to redo her job, small as it might be.

  Meg found it was a relief to become totally engrossed in the task. She didn’t have to think about the fact that she and her family were stranded with virtually no money, or that their only form of transportation was a twisted wreck that might not even be fixable. Nor did she have to think about how furious she was at her husband, who had lied to her, basically stolen all the family’s money only to throw it away, and brought them to this point. She could also block out the vague but horrible image of what their immediate future would look like when they figured out how to get from here to her parents’ house.

  Shake, fold, smooth, put to the side. The graying, scratchy linens made her recall the white towels in the bathrooms of their house in Charlotte. Lots of detergent, bleach, fabric softener, and a hot dryer kept those enormous Egyptian-cotton bath towels fluffy and blindingly white. They held a sweet, lightly performed scent, noticeable only when she wrapped herself up in one, an especially cozy feeling after it had been resting on the electric towel rack, warming on a winter’s morning. Meg picked up a towel from the pile and held it to her nose. No perfume, but she found that she liked its absence, the smell of fresh air somehow infused into the rough fabric, making her want to take a deep breath.

  Bracing, she thought, but probably not so inspiring when you’re dripping wet on a freezing morning.

  The door opened, and Meg tensed as she saw the expression on James’s face. His mouth was set in a way that told her the news was not going to be good.

  “What happened?” she asked. “You’ve been gone for hours.”

  He unzipped his jacket. “The place they towed it to suggested we might want to get to a shop that specializes in vintage cars. So we did that. But the guy there can’t even do anything until the insurance guys take a look. Someone will come by today or tomorrow, hopefully. They’ll call us at the phone outside here, or I’ll have to keep calling them.”

  “Is it a big deal to fix?”

  “The guy gave it a quick look while I was there. He said there’s extensive damage from the front fender all the way to the rear quarter panel. In other words, lots of bodywork needed on the driver’s side.”

  “How long will that take?”

  James scowled. “That’s the thing. He said a week or two.”

  “A week or two?” Meg repeated. “We can’t stay here for that long.”

  James gave her an exasperated look. “What would you have me do, Meg? You sound like Lizzie. I can’t snap my fingers and get us out of here. If you have any ideas, please feel free to share them with me.”

  They were interrupted by Sam, who had been outside with his sister and brother. Meg had told them all to go for a walk earlier when their whining about how bored they were had become too much for her.

  “Hey, sport, what are you up to?” James asked Sam.

  “They were fighting too much. Besides, I’m freezing.”

  “Come over here.” Meg moved the folded towels away and patted the couch beside her. “I’ll warm you up.”

  Sam sat down, and she put her arms around him, vigorously rubbing his back through his fleece jacket. She kissed the top of his head as he leaned in to her. James went over to the sink to get himself a glass of water. Meg guessed he felt as uncomfortable as she did prying into their hosts’ cupboards or refrigerator.

  One of the doors opened, and the three of them looked up at the sound. An elderly man, slightly stooped, stood in the doorway. His hair was nearly white, and he had bangs falling across his forehead, plus a long, full beard. He was dressed just like all the other men they had seen in the house, in black pants with suspenders and a dark blue shirt. He wore a black vest as well.

  “Ah,” he said, smiling. “Our visitors.” He came forward, moving to take a seat at the big table. “I am Samuel Lutz. David is my son.” He jerked a thumb in the direction of the door from which he had emerged. “We live there.”

  James went over to introduce himself and Meg and shake Samuel’s hand. Then Samuel turned his attention to Sam. “And who is this young man?”

  Shyly, Sam identified himself.

  Samuel Lutz’s eyes lit up. “Ahh, another Samuel! Very good!”

  Sam obviously hadn’t put his name together with the name of this odd-looking man. “Oh. Yeah.”

  The older man smiled. “We will be good friends, then. I will call you Young Samuel.”

  Sam looked uncomfortable but said nothing.

  “I heard we had visitors. I wanted to meet you before the crowd comes in for lunch. My daughter-in-law will be here soon, I think, to put it out.”

  As if on cue, Catherine joined them from outside. She was in conversation with a young girl dressed much like she was, down to the white head covering with the untied strings.

  “Hello,” said Catherine. “This is my daughter Amanda. She and your daughter are in one bedroom.”

  “Oh, yes.” Meg looked at the girl with interest. “Lizzie said she didn’t get a chance to meet you last night.”

  “I was out,” Amanda answered with the family’s accent, “but I got up early, so we
never talked.”

  “But now it is lunch, so you’ll meet her.” Catherine moved to the kitchen area and opened the oven door to check on what she had inside. “Everyone will meet everyone.”

  Amanda pulled open a kitchen drawer.

  “Thirteen,” Catherine said. “Plus some little ones. Maybe three.”

  Amanda nodded and reached into the drawer to pull out flatware.

  Meg whispered to Sam, “Run outside and get your sister and brother. We all need to help.”

  By the time the table had been set and everyone was assembled, there were seventeen people. They all seemed to be speaking in a language that sounded like German, although Meg couldn’t be sure. As soon as they saw the Hobarts, they switched to English.

  The Lutz family said grace silently, and Meg realized the spoken grace when they first arrived probably had been done for their benefit. Introductions were swift, and she didn’t remember all of the names. A few stood out. The older man, Samuel Lutz, was married to Leah. Somewhat stout, with a full face and lips, she was polite but no more than that, lacking her husband’s genuine warmth. Two men arrived with small children in tow, and Catherine explained that their wives were baking. Meg had no idea why that meant they had to miss lunch, but it didn’t seem like the right moment to ask. She knew she would remember Barbara, a bubbly young woman who was introduced as the daughter getting married the following week. Jonathan, the older of the two sons who had helped them the night before, also joined them at the last minute.

  Meg’s children, silent with the strangeness of it all, seemed taken aback by the size of this lunchtime gathering, which apparently was a daily occurrence. Catherine indicated that the two teenage roommates should sit next to each other, and Amanda greeted Lizzie with a smile and obvious interest. Lizzie barely returned her greeting and said nothing more to her. The men and women took their places on opposite sides of the table.

  With Meg and a stone-faced Lizzie joining them, the women helped serve what seemed like an endless succession of overflowing bowls and platters. The main meal consisted of bean soup, chicken in gravy, meat loaf, buttered noodles, brussels sprouts, peas and carrots, creamed corn, and hot biscuits with butter. The Hobart children ate little, pushing the food around on their plates, until they got to the desserts, which included pound cake, apple dumplings, rice pudding, and mixed fruit.