A Christmas Mourning

by Laura Bradford

  “Ahhh. I understand now.” The swing creaked ever so softly as Diane pushed to a stand and reclaimed the cookie plate. “He’s sensitive to such links because of what he’s gone through in leaving the Amish.”

  She blinked away the hint of moisture in her eyes and, instead, squared her shoulders. “I want to fix this one. I owe him that.”

  “Oh?”

  “Aunt Diane, before I got to know Jakob the way I do now, I really thought I’d spend the rest of my life as a single person.” Then, realizing how her words could be taken, she rushed to explain. “And who knows, maybe I will. But Jakob has brought me a lot of joy these past few months. I guess I’m thinking I have a chance here to do the same for him.”

  “I’m pretty sure you already do that, dear.” Diane plucked a cookie off the plate and held it out for Claire to take. “Just by being you. But I suspect you’ve got something else in mind at the moment?”

  Claire lifted the cookie to her lips and nibbled off a bite. “I want to find that Christmas spoon.”

  From anyone else, she might have thought the woman’s answering laugh was mocking in nature, but coming from Diane, she knew it was something more. And, sure enough, the woman’s warm brown eyes narrowed in on Claire’s. “If I didn’t know you as well as I do, Claire Marie Weatherly, I’d remind you that this spoon has been missing for twenty-six years. But since I do know you, I know that doesn’t matter. If there’s a way to track it down, you’ll do it.”

  “Thank you.” She took a bigger bite of her cookie and considered her options. “Remember what you said earlier? When we were at the schoolhouse? About items from the original schoolhouse being sold to raise money for the upkeep of the grounds? Do you think a log of those items might have been kept? You know, for accounting purposes or something?”

  “I don’t know but I’ll give you Peggy’s number and you can ask.”

  Claire stopped chewing and stared at her aunt. “Peggy? Who’s Peggy?”

  “Peggy Granderson. She was on the tour center’s board when the schoolhouse was first acquired. If there was a log kept regarding the sale of those original items, Peggy would know.”

  • • •

  For the umpteenth time since she opened the gift shop that morning, Claire took in the clock on the wall and wished it were noon. Sure, it had been a good day so far in terms of Heavenly Treasures’ bottom line, but the steady stream of customers had made it impossible to do anything with Peggy Granderson’s list beyond verify that it had, indeed, come across the fax line.

  She’d been tempted to take a peek at it several times over the past three hours, but every time she inched toward the machine, one of her shoppers would ask a question. One question turned to another question and the next thing she knew she’d be behind the register, ringing up a handful of items.

  It was a good problem to have and she knew it. But still, the thought that an end to Jakob’s decades-old guilt could potentially be mere steps away was maddening.

  “Is there something wrong?”

  Startled, she shook off her woolgathering and set her sights on the tall Amish man gazing down at her with worried eyes. “Ben! I didn’t hear you come in!”

  “I came in the back door with a new cedar chest for you to sell.” He reached up, cupped his clean-shaven chin inside his hand, and studied her closely. “The last customer waved at you as she walked out the front door, but you did not wave back. That is not like you.”

  She darted her attention toward the front of the store, only to slump her shoulders when she spotted the customer in question crossing Lighted Way, shopping bag in hand. “I-I guess I got a little distracted when she was leaving.”

  “Have you not had a good day?”

  “No, it’s been good—great, even,” she rushed to say. “It’s just been . . . busy.”

  “But that is good, yah?”

  “It is.” She mustered a smile for her hatted friend and then peeked, again, at the shop’s large plate glass front window. “This is the first lull I’ve had all morning.”

  “Perhaps you should sit and rest,” he countered.

  She waved off his concern, stepping out from behind the counter as she did. “Really. I’m fine. You just caught me thinking about—wait! You went to that school, too! With Jakob.”

  His brows dipped down above deep blue eyes. “School?”

  “The one-room schoolhouse that’s part of the tour center!”

  “I have not been in that building since I was a boy,” he said, dropping his hand to his side.

  “No, I know that, but that’s exactly what I’m talking about.” With one final glance at the window, she hooked her thumb toward the rear hallway that led to the stockroom, her office, and the door to the alleyway. “Peggy Granderson, one of the founding members of the Heavenly Tour Center, faxed me over a list of items that were inside the schoolhouse when they purchased it from the Amish. I’m hoping that I can track down something Jakob lost.”

  “Did he take you to the school?”

  “No. He hasn’t been in that school since he was a boy, either.” The echo of Ben’s boots against the tiled floor came to a stop behind her and she turned. “What’s wrong?”

  “It has been more than twenty-five years since we went to school in that building. If Jakob has not been back, how could he lose something?”

  Again, she motioned for him to follow. “That’s why I requested the list. Because the last time Jakob saw it was the morning of your final Christmas program inside that schoolhouse.” When they reached the office, she snaked her hand around the open doorway and flicked on the overhead light. “And I guess I’m thinking there’s a chance it got lumped in with the items left behind when the town purchased the building.”

  She was aware of his eyes as they followed her across the tiny office to the fax machine and the single-sheet ledger she’d been unable to look at until that moment. “In fact, if all goes well, it’ll be right here on this list and I’ll have an actual starting place.”

  But a first and second glance at the list of items detailed on the ledger yielded no mention of a spoon, Christmas-themed or otherwise. “Or not,” she whispered.

  “I am sure it cannot be important after so many years, Claire.”

  “That spoon has been important to Jakob this whole time.” Claire crumbled the list in her hand and tossed it into the wastebasket beneath her desk. “I just didn’t know about it until the other night.”

  “You fret over a spoon?” he asked.

  Perching on the edge of her desk, she nodded, the disappointment over her first dead end making it difficult to concentrate, much less string together a coherent explanation. “It wasn’t just an ordinary spoon, Ben. It was a Christmas spoon and it was special . . . to Jakob and his mother.”

  Silence filled the space between them as she found her thoughts drifting back to Jakob’s living room and the book of drawings he’d created to document his otherwise undocumented life as a young Amish boy.

  “I believe I remember now.”

  She heard the gasp as it escaped her lips, but she was already on to its verbal equivalent before it really registered. “You remember Jakob’s Christmas spoon?”

  “Yah. There was much to do that morning before the program. We practiced our songs and verses instead of playing outside. The girls were happy because it was very cold that day. But me and Jakob . . . we wanted to run and jump.”

  “Go on,” she urged.

  “When we were done, and waiting for the buggies to bring our mamms and dats, Jakob showed us a spoon. It was very shiny. I remember Sarah calling it fancy. I knew it did not look like spoons in my house.”

  “It belonged to Jakob’s mother.”

  “Yah. From her English days.” Ben started to lean against the wall but stopped himself. “The spoon is lost?”

  She shook away the image of Jakob’s lingering pain and, instead, pushed off the desk to close the gap with Ben. “He hasn’t seen it since that day.”

&nb
sp; “And Jakob wants you to look now? After all this time?”

  “He doesn’t know I’m looking.” At the confusion on her friend’s face, she cast about for the best way to bring sense to her actions. “Jakob is a good man, Ben. He lost everything in his past when he left to become a police officer. You know this.”

  “Yah.”

  “His only real connection to his life with the Amish is through his memories. And, with the exception of losing that spoon, he treasures them all. But that memory still hurts him deeply because he feels he let his mother down—that he robbed her of a connection to her past.”

  “I do not see Grace looking sad, Claire.”

  “And I’m sure she’s not, Ben. But you and I didn’t grow up with her as our mother. We didn’t see the mist in her eyes when she brought out that spoon to share with her children every Christmas morning. We didn’t hear the stories of how her grandparents had used it to stir her favorite peppermint hot chocolate. We didn’t see the smile on her face as she talked about her childhood. Jakob did. And it haunts him to this day.”

  Something about Ben’s slow nod lodged her emotions squarely in her throat and made it impossible to utter another word. Eventually, it was Ben who spoke, his normally strong voice showing signs of understanding. “I do not remember the spoon after Jakob showed it to me. But maybe Fannie Lapp does.”

  “Lapp?” Claire echoed. “As in Daniel, the toymaker?”

  “Yah. Fannie was married to Daniel’s oldest brother. When Luke passed, Daniel moved her to the house his parents lived in before their death.” A quiet whinny from the alley beside Heavenly Treasures propelled Ben out of the office and across the stockroom. At the back door, he turned and nodded in farewell.

  “Wait,” Claire said, following him through the door and onto the stoop. “Why do you think Daniel’s sister-in-law might be able to help me?”

  “She was our teacher that year.”

  • • •

  It was just after six o’clock when Claire locked the gift shop’s back door and headed down the alleyway that separated Heavenly Treasures from Shoo Fly Bake Shoppe. It had been a long day with little time to stop and breathe, let alone sit down. Yet as tired as her feet were at that moment, the last thing she wanted to do was head east toward the inn and the cool glass of lemonade her aunt would invariably have waiting.

  No, today she needed to head west into the Amish countryside. If she timed it right, Fannie Lapp would be cleaning up after supper by the time Claire knocked on her front door.

  A quick vibration against her side had her reaching into her purse and pulling her cell phone from its depths. A quick glance at the screen had her smiling before the phone was even at her ear.

  “Hi, Aunt Diane.”

  “Are you done at the shop, dear?”

  “I am.” At the end of the alley, she turned right, glancing up at her shop’s front window as she did. A year earlier, when she’d opened Heavenly Treasures, everything about owning her own business had been new. But now, thanks to time and experience, it was all running much more smoothly and she was glad. “I know this is my usual night off at the inn, but I also know you usually wait to eat with me. Don’t do that tonight, okay? I have a stop to make before I head home and I have no idea how long it’s going to take.”

  “Did you find Jakob’s Christmas spoon on the list Peggy faxed you?” Diane asked, the hope in her voice impossible to miss.

  “No.” Guided by the smells wafting through the open windows of Heavenly Brews Coffee Shop, Claire followed the sidewalk to the end and stepped onto the gravel roadway that signaled the end of the shopping district and the beginning of Amish country. “Thankfully, the day wasn’t a total waste in that regard. Thanks to Ben, I should say.”

  “Oh? How so?”

  She lifted her chin to the evening sun and reveled in the feel of its warmth against her skin. “He suggested I talk to Fannie Lapp.”

  “Fannie Lapp? Why?” Diane asked.

  “She was Jakob and Ben’s teacher the year they moved from the old schoolhouse to the new one.” She followed the road as it wound its way between farmlands to the north and farmlands to the south, her gaze skirting the various crops. At any other daytime hour, Amish men would be visible in the fields, working side by side with their sons. Their noticeable absence at that moment, however, signaled the end of the workday just as sure as any watch ever could. Now, instead of working in the fields, the men and boys were seated around their kitchen table with their families, talking and eating. “Maybe, with any luck, Fannie will remember something that can help me find his mother’s Christmas spoon.”

  “It sounds like a good plan, dear. Should I wrap a plate for you for when you return? I made chicken and dumplings.”

  The instantaneous growl of her stomach made her laugh. “If you have some left . . . sure. But if you don’t, no worries, okay? I mean, if all goes well at Fannie’s, I just may have to make yet another stop before I come home.”

  A moment of silence was followed by the distinctive sound of Diane clearing her throat. “Please don’t get your hopes up too high, Claire. I think talking to Fannie is an excellent idea but even with that, it’s been nearly twenty-six years. I can’t remember where I put the book I was reading last night, let alone a utensil nearly three decades ago.”

  She knew the woman was just trying to keep her feet rooted in reality, but it wasn’t a reality she was ready to concede to yet. Maybe something she said to Fannie would spark a memory that could help . . .

  “I know. But I have to try. For Jakob.”

  Diane’s smile was audible through the phone. “He’s a lucky man, that Jakob Fisher.”

  “I’m pretty sure I’m the lucky one in this equation, Aunt Diane, but thank you.” As she came around a second, gentler bend in the road, Claire instinctively switched to the south side of the road in an effort to put as much distance as possible between herself and the wooded land on the north. Even now, months later, the mere memory of finding Josiah Beiler waiting for her in those same woods made her skin grow clammy and her pace quicken. If the nightmares didn’t stop, she’d have to talk to someone. But for now, she could hold the memory at bay with her plan to find the missing Christmas spoon. “Anyway, I’ll give you a call as I’m leaving the Lapps’ to let you know if I’m heading straight back or stopping at Jakob’s first.”

  “I’d appreciate that, dear. And good luck. I hope Fannie can help.”

  “I hope so, too, Aunt Diane. I really do. Anyway, I’ll talk to you soon.” When she was sure she’d cleared Josiah Beiler’s property, she dropped the phone into her purse and crossed back to the north side of the road. Up ahead and to the right was the dirt lane that led to Daniel Lapp’s toy shop. Behind the house he shared with his wife, Sarah, and their six children, was another, smaller home where his parents had lived until their death. Now that they were gone, his widowed sister-in-law resided in the home alone but likely took meals with Daniel and his family.

  As she made her way up the driveway, she took a moment to draw in the peacefulness of her surroundings—the barn cats stalking blades of grass, the cluck of the chickens in a nearby pen, the occasional exhalation of a horse from the barn.

  “Good evening, Claire!”

  She paused in front of the main farmhouse and did her best to isolate the location from which the familiar voice had come, but a glance at the first-floor windows turned up nothing.

  Footsteps off to her left, though, did.

  “Daniel, hello.”

  The bearded toymaker approached with long, purposeful strides and a mixture of curiosity and genuine warmth on his narrow face. “I did not hear your kin’s car.”

  “That’s because I decided to walk. It’s the best way to truly enjoy the peace of such a beautiful summer evening.” Claire hooked her thumb over her shoulder. “Are you just now getting ready to sit down for supper?”

  “No. Supper is done. But perhaps there is cake to be shared.”

  Realiz
ing how her question was being interpreted, Claire rushed to clarify. “I was hoping maybe I could speak to your sister-in-law, but didn’t want to interrupt if she was eating.”

  A flash of surprise chased curiosity from his dark brown eyes but it didn’t last long. Instead, he lifted his finger to guide her attention to the smaller home no more than thirty yards from his own. “Fannie is right there, on her front porch. I am sure she will be happy to see you.”

  “Thank you, Daniel. Please tell Sarah hello for me.” She turned and made her way across the mouth of the driveway to the smaller version of the main house. As was the case on Daniel’s porch, there were two hand-crafted rocking chairs positioned to provide an uninterrupted view of the fields. Fannie looked up as Claire drew close. “Fannie? I don’t know if you remember me but I’m—”

  “Claire Weatherly. You own Heavenly Treasures—the shop where Grace Fisher’s granddaughter worked until she married Eli Miller, and where Bishop Hershberger’s daughter, Annie, works now.” Fannie lowered her knitting needle to her aproned lap and waved Claire onto the porch. “You’re also the one who came to Esther and Eli’s wedding with Grace’s son, Jakob.”

  “I am.”

  “Please sit.” Fannie reclaimed her needle and pointed at the empty rocker to her right. “My second son, Mark, and his wife are to have another baby this fall. I am making a blanket to keep the young one warm.”

  She felt the smile ignite across her face at the news. “Oh, how wonderful. New babies are always so exciting.”

  “So what can I do for you, Claire Weatherly?”

  Slowly, she lowered herself onto the second rocking chair and took a slow, deliberate breath. Why she was suddenly nervous made no sense. One look at Fannie Lapp and the hint of a twinkle in her dark brown eyes was enough to put the woman’s disposition on par with her brother-in-law’s. Then again, it didn’t matter to Claire’s cause if Fannie was kind or not. What mattered was what, if anything, the former teacher could remember about the delicate silver spoon Jakob had brought to school and lost.