Naomi’s Christmas

by Marta Perry

  “As long as it is something appropriate,” he said finally. “That would have pleased Ada.”

  Seth nodded, as if understanding that pleasing Nathan probably wasn’t a possibility. “Denke, Nathan,” he said, using the Pennsylvania Dutch word without hesitation. “I’ll be careful in what I choose.”

  With that, Nathan supposed he had to be content. He went in search of the children, trying to dismiss the idea that he had been unkind.

  If asked, he would have said that he had forgiven Seth for what he’d done to his family. But Nathan had to admit, if only to himself, that if he couldn’t forget it when he saw the man, he probably hadn’t done a very good job of forgiving, either.

  Nathan and the children weren’t back yet when Naomi emerged from the grocery store. She suspected that Christmas secrets were under way, and she’d have to be careful when they returned not to look too closely at any packages.

  She loaded the groceries into the buggy and closed the door. A glance down the street told her that Nathan and the children weren’t even in sight. Maybe she had time to run into the harness shop for a word with Bishop Mose while she waited. Since he shared a hitching rail with the grocery, she’d be able to see when Nathan reappeared.

  Patting the mare, snug under the blanket Nathan always put on when the animal had to stand in cold weather, she went quickly toward the shop door. If Bishop Mose had customers with him, her conversation would have to wait, but if not, it was in her mind to tell him that she had tried to make peace with Daad, even though it hadn’t turned out well.

  The shop was warm and quiet, redolent of the scents of leather and oil. New harnesses and halters hung on pegs along the wall, but much of the work was in repairing and remaking used harnesses, along with saddles and bridles belonging to the Englisch customers.

  Bishop Mose sat at one of his work benches, a strip of leather in front of him, but he stood when he saw her and came to the counter, smiling. The heavy apron he wore over his clothes was stained with neat’s-foot oil.

  “Naomi, I thought that was you I saw going into the grocery.”

  She approached, feeling the familiar sense of welcome that always seemed to flow from the bishop. “I’m waiting for Nathan and the kinder to return from doing some shopping, so I thought I would drop in to see you.”

  “And to tell me something, I think?” His shrewd blue gaze rested knowingly.

  Her throat tightened. “Ja. I spoke to my daad, to say how sorry I am for the breach between us. I tried to explain why I prefer working for Nathan to moving in with my brother. But he seemed…”

  She stopped, not sure she wanted to bring up Daad’s assumption about her and Nathan.

  “Ja?” Bishop Mose waited, seeming patient enough for however long this conversation might take.

  She ought to tell him everything, so that he heard it from her and no one else. “He had heard some foolish talk about Nathan perhaps wanting to marry me.” She suspected her cheeks had turned scarlet. It would be a relief to press her cold hands against them, but she didn’t. “When I told him I was sure Nathan had no such idea, I thought that would reassure him, but it just made him angry. He wouldn’t listen to me, and he said that if I wouldn’t agree to do as he said, he had nothing else to say to me.”

  Tears stung her eyes, and she tried to blink them back. There had been moments when she’d been able to forget Daad’s words, but talking about them brought the pain back.

  “This has hurt you.” The bishop’s voice was quiet, maybe even weary with the weight of his people’s problems.

  “Ja. I do not want to be at odds with my father. But what else can I do?”

  He shook his head slowly. “Nothing,” he said simply. “Sometimes that is the hardest answer to receive. We always think that there is something we can do, ain’t so? It’s hard to accept that there are times when we can’t do anything except wait for the good Lord to act.”

  “But Daad—” Will he ever forgive? She couldn’t seem to say the words, but Bishop Mose probably knew without her saying them.

  “Your Daad is hurting himself by his unbending attitude, but he doesn’t know that yet. We will have to pray that he comes to see the truth for himself.”

  “You are right.” She managed a smile. “It is hard to do nothing.”

  Bishop Mose smiled in return. “Listen for God’s guidance, and don’t close your heart. Perhaps you’ll even find that Nathan is not so opposed to marriage as you suppose.”

  She shook her head. The bishop was wise, but on this subject he was wrong. Despite those moments in the kitchen when Nathan had touched her, she knew him well enough to know the answer.

  “Nathan never thinks of that, I’m sure.” Or did he? There had been moments when she’d seen his awareness of her. But she couldn’t build hope on something so fleeting. “In his heart, he is still married to his first love.”

  And what of her? She had told herself she only wanted to be Nathan’s friend, but was there something deeper buried in her heart? If so, she must ignore it. She was afraid to hope, and the suggestions of others that she and Nathan might marry only emphasized that if Nathan did think of marriage, it would be for the children’s sake.

  “Ah.” Bishop Mose paused for a moment, looking at her. “Do you remember my wife?”

  “Ja, of course,” she said, surprised at the turn of subject. “Everyone remembers how devoted you were to each other.”

  “Ja, we were.” He smiled, as if the memories were happy ones. “There is something everyone does not remember, though. My Sarah was not my first love.”

  Naomi blinked. “I didn’t realize…No one has ever mentioned…” She let the words trail off, not sure what to say to this unexpected confidence.

  “They have forgotten.” Bishop Mose’s eyes were misty, as if he were looking back into the past. “I have nearly forgotten, myself, but it is true. Sarah always knew that she was not my first love. But to my great good fortune, she was my last love.” He reached across the counter to pat Naomi’s hand. “Life sometimes has great surprises in store for us.”

  Someone else had said something like that to her, and she couldn’t think who it had been. But it made sense. Certainly her life had changed completely in only a month.

  “Denke, Bishop Mose.” She hesitated, thinking that there was something more she should say. “I do not think that Nathan and I will ever be together, but I am content to know that I am doing what I should.”

  He glanced over her head, and she realized he was looking out the window. “I see Nathan and the kinder coming, so you must go. You are in my prayers.”

  Nodding a good-bye, she went back out to meet Nathan and the children. Joshua and Sadie came running to her, and her heart filled with love for them.

  Love, yes. But not hope, because hope dashed would be too painful to bear.

  Nathan climbed down the ladder from the attic, balancing the box containing Ada’s nativity scene under one arm. It was dusty from not being used, and that gave him a sense of shame. He should not have let the putz sit in the attic for so long.

  Sliding the ladder back into place, he closed the attic hatch and carried the box downstairs. He had been wrong to keep Ada’s putz shut away from her children for so long, but now he would make that right.

  The aroma of baking lured him to the kitchen. Naomi turned from the oven, smiling, and deposited a sheet of Peppernuts onto the cooling rack.

  Sadie, standing on a chair at the counter, clapped her hands. “Can I taste one, Naomi? Please?”

  “They must cool first, or you will have a scalded tongue.” She glanced at him. “Besides, I think your daad has something to show you.”

  “Ja, I do.” He set the box on the end of the table. “But where is Joshua?”

  “He’s outside, helping Isaiah and your daad finish up some shoveling.”

  A fresh layer of snow had fallen overnight, delighting the kinder. Naomi gave Nathan an assessing glance, as if to wonder whether that would arouse
his protective instincts.

  “They will see that he doesn’t get hurt, I know. But Daad should not be shoveling.” Frowning, he headed toward the door.

  “But, Daadi, what’s in the box?” Sadie hopped down from her chair to pursue him.

  “I know,” Naomi said, answering him, not the child. “But I also know it’s impossible to keep your daad from doing what he thinks he should. That’s why Isaiah and Joshua are there, sharing the shoveling with him.”

  Nathan nodded, admitting the truth of what Naomi said. No one could convince Daad he couldn’t do everything he used to.

  “Maybe I can get him to komm in and see this, as well.” He nodded toward the box and then smiled at Sadie, her hands clutched in eagerness. “Just be patient, my little girl. As soon as Joshua and Grossdaadi are here, I’ll show you what that box has in it.”

  Naomi headed for the stove. “Some hot cocoa wouldn’t go amiss, I’m thinking. Maybe by then the Peppernuts will be ready to eat. Can you get some mugs out, Sadie?”

  She nodded, dashing toward the cabinet while Nathan went out the back door.

  He realized he was smiling. Naomi was having such a good effect on Sadie. A month ago she’d have been wailing about opening the box right this minute, and now she was cheerfully helping Naomi while she waited.

  How had Naomi come by such skill? By having inherited the responsibility for her younger brothers and sisters when she was so young herself? Perhaps it was simply a God-given gift. If so, God had blessed Nathan’s family with that gift, too.

  Getting everyone to stop shoveling involved some negotiating, but finally Nathan had all of them inside, shedding coats and mufflers and exclaiming at how wonderful gut the cookies smelled.

  “Pfeffernuse,” Daad exclaimed, bending over the cookies to inhale, giving them the Pennsylvania Dutch name. “I haven’t had these since your mamm used to make them. Smell the spice in them.”

  “You can eat, not just smell,” Naomi said, sliding some warm cookies onto a plate. “Komm, sit down. There is coffee, and the hot chocolate will be ready in a moment.”

  “Now will you tell us what’s in the box, Daadi?” Sadie slid onto her chair while Joshua pulled off his boots.

  “Ja.” Nathan lifted the lid off and was visited by a sudden memory of Ada packing the figures away after that last Christmas they had together. She had put the newspaper, now yellowing, around each of the figures. She…

  He swallowed, pushing away the thoughts. This was about the kinder, not about him. He lifted out the topmost figure—a shepherd holding a lamb in his arms.

  “It’s the putz.” Joshua crowded close to him. “I remember. We put it up at Christmastime.”

  “I remember, too,” Sadie echoed, but Nathan felt quite sure she didn’t. His throat tightened.

  “The putz helps us remember the story of Christmas,” Naomi said, as if she knew he needed help. “We can look at the shepherds, the animals, the wise men, and the angels all there to worship the baby Jesus.”

  “There is a stable, ain’t so?” Joshua furrowed his forehead. “I think Mammi had us put fresh straw in it.”

  Nathan couldn’t speak for the pictures that were crowding his mind, so again, Naomi did it for him.

  “I’m sure your mammi did. This was her putz when she was a little girl, and I remember her putting straw around it every year. We used to play with it when I came to see her, telling each other the story of that first Christmas.”

  Nathan stepped back from the table, inviting Naomi to take over with a quick gesture of his head. She slipped into the chair nearest the box.

  “Let’s see what else we can find.” She handed a wrapped figure to each of the children to open, and they aahed with the appearance of a golden-winged angel and a gray donkey.

  Isaiah leaned over the box, his face as excited as those of the children. “We had one of these when we were little, remember, Naomi? You brought it out and we set it up while you told us the Christmas story.”

  “Let’s do that,” Sadie said instantly. “Tell us the story, Naomi.”

  “I think we should get the straw first,” Joshua said, not willing to give up the one detail he had remembered. “And decide where to set it up. It can’t stay on the kitchen table.”

  “Why not?” Sadie demanded. “I want it here.”

  “Joshua is right,” Naomi intervened. “Once we have all the pieces out, we will find a spot for the putz in the living room, where we can look at it and remember the story and tell it every day. But Sadie is right, too. We can tell the story while we get the pieces out. We will tell it many times in the next few weeks, because it is a very important story, ain’t so?”

  The kinder nodded, both mollified. They continued to uncover the pieces. Naomi began telling the story, her narrative interrupted by interjections from Isaiah and comments from the kinder as each figure emerged from its wrappings.

  Nathan took a few steps back from the hubbub around the table and realized Daad was standing beside him, watching.

  “I am ser glad you got Ada’s putz out again,” Daad said, his voice quiet. “It is gut for the kinder to have it. They will remember their mamm as well as remember the story of Christmas.”

  “Ja.” Nathan’s throat still seemed too tight to say more. He didn’t regret the decision to get out the putz, but he hadn’t expected it to provoke such strong feelings.

  “Christmas is a time for missing the ones we love who have gone on ahead of us.” Daad seemed to know exactly what he was thinking. “I long for your mamm more at this time of year. Sorrows seem deeper, but joy seems brighter, as well. And Naomi has brought much joy to this house, I think.”

  Daad’s words startled Nathan. They confused him a little, as well.

  But they were true, weren’t they? He could see for himself how happy the kinder were under Naomi’s guidance. And he knew how happy he was to have Naomi here, as well.

  He felt a moment of panic. What was he thinking? Naomi could not take Ada’s place. No one could. And yet he couldn’t seem to get the idea out of his head.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  To Naomi, the days seemed to fly past. That always happened in the weeks leading up to Christmas, but this year she was busier than she’d been since Isaiah and her sisters were small and she’d had all the running of the house to do as well.

  The doll she was making for Sadie was nearly finished. It had taken longer than she expected, since she could only work on it in the evenings after she’d returned to the grossdaadi house. Sadie was too inquisitive, and there was no place at Nathan’s where she might easily hide it. Tonight she was putting the final stitches in the cape, sitting in her rocker near the stove in her small, cozy kitchen.

  Naomi let the sewing rest on her lap for a moment as her gaze moved around the room. Even though she spent most of her time at the farmhouse, she still appreciated the fact that here she had her own things around her—the rag rug on the floor that Grossmammi had made, the chair where her mamm had rocked the kinder, the tea towels her sister had made for her hung neatly on their hooks.

  Despite the grief Naomi felt over the breach with her father, she was content. That was what she’d told Bishop Mose, and she believed it was true. Still, she couldn’t help the tiny hope in her heart as every day seemed to bring Nathan closer to her. Perhaps, one day…

  A flicker of light from the driveway between the houses startled her, even as she heard the crunch of tires on the gravel. Who would be coming to see her after dark? More likely it would be someone for Isaiah and Libby.

  But the car drew into the pull-off by her back porch, and she heard women’s voices along with the slam of car doors. It must be Paula—who else could it be?

  She hurried to the door and swung it open. Paula, for sure, stepping carefully over a patch of snow, but it wasn’t Hannah, her niece, with her. It was Leah Glick.

  “Paula, Leah, wilkom.” She couldn’t help an edge of anxiety in her voice. “Is anything wrong?”

  �
��What could be wrong?” Paula pressed a cold cheek against hers. “Ach, that old heater of mine doesn’t work so well anymore. I near froze Leah to death getting here.”

  “It wasn’t any colder than riding in a buggy in this weather,” Leah said, already hanging up her bonnet and coat in the hall.

  “Komm, schnell. The kitchen is nice and warm.” Naomi hurried them in, her thoughts revolving around the unexpectedness of this visit.

  Paula set a laden basket on the table. “I wanted to bring you some Christmas goodies to share with the kinder. I’m sure you have cookies of your own, but what is the sense of being a baker if I cannot share with my friends?”

  Naomi smiled and nodded, moving automatically to put the kettle on, but concern threaded along her nerves. Leah was not saying enough, and Paula was saying too much. Something other than Christmas cookies had brought them here tonight.

  She looked from Paula, still chattering about the bakery, to Leah, who smiled but avoided her eyes.

  “What is it?” She interrupted Paula’s tale of the number of jars of honey she’d sold. “I can see that something is wrong. Please, just tell me what it is.” Her mind leaped ahead to possible answers. “Something is wrong with Daad? Or one of Elijah’s family?”

  “No, no, nothing like that.” Leah put an arm around her waist and guided her to a chair. “I told Paula you would guess there was a problem the minute we came in.”

  “Ja, well, no point in starting out with trouble,” Paula said, her voice a little testy. “We’ll sit down here, and when the kettle boils we’ll have a nice cup of tea, and we’ll talk about it.”

  Naomi sat, clutching Leah’s hand. “Tell me.”

  The two women exchanged glances, as if neither one was willing to start. Then Leah nodded, accepting responsibility.

  “There are rumors flying around the valley. You have not heard anything?”

  “If you mean about Daad talking to Bishop Mose about me—”

  “Ach, no, that is old news,” Paula said. Her round, kindly face was set in worried lines that contrasted sharply with her usual good humor. “This is about you and Nathan.”