by Sarah Price
Bethany walked into the room, carrying two empty baskets. “More rolls needed.” She walked past her mother and headed to the counter, where there was a big container of fresh rolls.
“Oh, Bethany,” Edna said in a casual voice, “everyone enjoyed your ham loaf the other night.”
Mary looked at her daughter and noticed that her cheeks flushed pink. “You made ham loaf?”
She nodded. “I made some yesterday for Edna’s guests on Wednesday.”
“The leftovers were right gut,” Edna said. “In fact, John had three helpings.”
Bethany’s cheeks grew even more flushed.
“Did he now?” Mary tried to hide her smile. “A gut appetite is always a sign of a gut worker.”
“Or a gut cook,” Edna tossed back at her.
“Mayhaps both.”
Carrying the refilled bread baskets, Bethany hurried back into the far section of the room, where the guests’ tables were set up.
Edna came over to the kitchen table and sat down opposite Mary. “I suppose you don’t have anything more you want to share with me?”
Mary blinked. Did Edna really think that she’d disclose more information about Bethany and John? “Not unless you have something to share with me.”
Frowning, Edna sighed. “I know nothing, Mary. Except that something is going on.”
“Well, as I said, I have seen John stop by the house a couple times recently,” she admitted.
“And he was very eager to pick her up and drop her off when he wasn’t working.”
Mary stole a peek to make certain Bethany was still occupied. “Do you think that . . . ?”
“I do think that . . .”
Neither one of them wanted to say the actual words. Mary sighed. “Then I guess we’ll just have to keep thinking ‘that’ until one of them confirms what ‘that’ truly is.”
Edna stood back up. “So infuriating, isn’t it? I don’t think we gave our parents so much to think about, do you?”
At that comment, Mary gave a little laugh. Surely her friend spoke in jest. Back when she was growing up, things were different. There wasn’t so much influence from the outside world, and the rules were even stricter. Mary had no doubt that their parents had wondered and fretted over their children during those courtship years. It was hard to not butt into a courting couple’s business, that was for sure and certain.
“Oh, I’m very confident that our parents did their own amount of speculation during our running-around years. We were probably just as—if not more—secretive.”
“Well, then, I feel terrible for putting my maem through this.”
Bethany walked back toward them. When she saw them at the table, she stopped short. “What are you two laughing about?”
“Parenthood,” Mary said. “The joys of raising children.”
Bethany made a face and continued toward the sink.
“I’m excited about Tuesday, aren’t you, Mary?” Edna asked her.
“Having the families get together in the evening is a wonderful idea.”
Edna glanced at Bethany. “It was your dochder’s idea.”
Bethany looked as if she might refute the claim, but it was easy to see that Edna was teasing her.
“But seriously, Edna, are you sure you want to have it here?” Mary asked. She felt terrible that Edna would have to do all that work by herself on Saturday when she should be enjoying her first day without people coming for the noon meal. And then Tuesday, everyone would come to her house and she’d be left with that mess. “After all the entertaining you’ve done for so many people. Mayhaps Wilma or Verna could host the supper.”
“I’d have it no other way, Mary Ropp.”
“Well, I won’t argue then.” She wasn’t about to quarrel with her friend. “It will be roomier here, that’s for sure. And mayhaps you can ask Wilma’s dochders to come help clean up on Monday.”
Edna stared at her, a look of bewilderment on her face. And then, realizing that it was Mary teasing her this time, she broke into soft laughter.
“Mary! I almost thought you were serious.” She shook her head. “Nee, I have my helper, that’s for sure and certain. If she’ll come back in the spring, that is.”
Mary turned to look at Bethany, uncertain whether or not she had heard Edna. But when Bethany shut off the water and turned away from the sink, she gave Edna a shy smile.
“I’d like nothing better than to help you, Edna.”
Edna gave a sigh of relief. “Gut! Because after having had you by my side, I don’t think I could do it without you.”
It was a bittersweet moment for Mary. Her daughter was coming into her own at last, and for that, Mary was thankful. But it also meant that, come spring, Bethany would be gone again. She had missed having her around all day, and now, with a more permanent work relationship being discussed, Mary realized that this was only the beginning, especially if their suspicions about John’s interest in Bethany came to fruition.
Chapter Fifty-Two
Oh, how she loved the school pageants!
Bethany sat at one of the small desks and, with her hands folded on her lap, watched as the children sang their Christmas hymns. Their faces were so angelic and pure, the light practically shining from their eyes. Standing in front of the schoolhouse, dressed in their Sunday dresses and suits, they exuded cheer and joy as they performed for their parents, grandparents, and neighbors.
The teacher had decorated the school with simple greens from a nearby pine tree, tied with a white ribbon and positioned at the bottom of each window. And several candles flickered from the edge of her desk. At the back of the room was the long table, covered with sweets and treats for the children after their pageant was over.
The building was packed with people who had come to watch the annual pageant. It was always full, the men usually standing in the back while the women sat at desks and benches that had been brought in to accommodate the audience. It was a building filled with love.
This, Bethany thought, is what Christmas is all about.
She had thought a lot about the buggy ride she’d taken with John to see the lit-up houses. Clearly people who lived outside of her community celebrated Christmas in much different ways from the Amish. She knew that just from the way people talked and from things she had personally observed over the years. Always at Christmastime, tourism picked up in Shipshewana, the traffic heavier on the streets. Whenever she had to go to the store, it was more crowded—the stores filled with people buying Christmas presents.
But that wasn’t the way of the Amish.
Christmas was about being together to celebrate the birth of Jesus. It was a time to sing and to share, to eat and to laugh. Gifts were kept small and always practical. And lights were limited to a few battery-operated ones or plain white candles.
To Bethany, Christmas was about showing love to God and Jesus. Nothing else mattered. She felt that the flashing lights and over decorated houses took away from God’s gift. Bethany couldn’t imagine enjoying the holiday if she had to celebrate it any other way.
She felt her mother’s hand on her arm. Tearing her eyes away from the front of the room, Bethany saw her mother leaning toward her. “I thought you said John wasn’t going to make it,” she whispered and then nodded toward the back door.
Startled, Bethany quickly turned to follow her mother’s gaze. Sure enough, there stood John, his hands behind his back as he rocked a little bit on his feet in perfect time with the song being sung by the children.
She couldn’t have stopped herself from smiling if she tried.
Somehow seeing him there made everything right. If she hadn’t realized it before, now she knew that Christmas wouldn’t have been complete without John Esh standing in the back of the room, watching the children honor Jesus through their singing.
Turning back around to face the front of the room, Bethany tried to focus on the children. But her mind remained on the back of the building where John stood. She sat there for a few m
inutes but then gave up trying.
“I’ll be right back,” she whispered to her mother.
Quietly, she slipped out from the desk chair and made her way to the back of the schoolhouse.
“Bethany.” His whispered greeting could barely be heard over the children’s song.
“You came.”
He smiled and leaned down to respond in her ear. “I wanted to enjoy Christmas with you.” His eyes traveled to the front of the room. “All of Christmas.”
For the rest of the pageant, she stood by his side, enjoying the hymns. As usual, the children saved the best one for last: “Silent Night.” Outside, with the sun already beginning to set, the room grew darker as the children sang in German.
Stille nacht! Heil’ge nacht!
Alles schläft; einsam wacht
Nur das traute hoch heilige Paar.
Holder Knab’ im lockigen Haar,
Schlafe in himmlischer Ruh!
By the time they got to the last verse, Bethany felt as if her heart would burst as tears welled in her eyes. Such a beautiful song, and hearing the innocent voices sing it as one only enhanced its impact on her.
After the song ended, Bethany and John went over to where Mary still sat. John helped her get up and assisted her toward the area of the school where everyone was gathering.
“What a nice surprise,” she said to John. “I thought you had to work today.”
He nodded, his eyes traveling from Mary to Bethany. “I asked to leave early so that I could be here.” His gaze stayed on Bethany. “I didn’t want to miss this. It’s been quite a few years since I’ve been inside a school haus.” He looked around, taking in the blackboard and Bible verses hanging on the walls. “I haven’t really missed it.”
Mary laughed. “It’s smaller than you remember, I bet.”
“Indeed, it is.”
“And did you enjoy the pageant?” Bethany asked.
“I most certainly did.” He smiled at her. “It was nice to hear the songs and see those children honor God in such a loving and innocent way. You were right, you know.”
Surprised, Bethany tilted her head. “About what?”
“The pageant does put you in the mood for Christmas.” He leaned down and whispered, “Just like snowy nights at the pond and brightly lit Englische neighborhoods.”
She couldn’t help but smile. “Ja, John, those things do put you in the mood for Christmas, too.”
“Looks like we’re both showing each other new things.” He gave her an impish grin. “I like it.”
“Me, too,” she whispered, uncertain whether or not he heard her.
Chapter Fifty-Three
On Saturday morning, just as everyone was about to leave the breakfast table, Elmer surprised Edna by clearing his throat and asking that everyone stay for a few extra minutes.
“What’s this about, Elmer?” she asked in a hushed voice.
“Just clear the table and then bring over the coffeepot, if you don’t mind. It’s time for a family meeting.”
Without asking another question, Edna got up and gathered the breakfast plates. For now, she set them on the counter by the sink. She’d wash them later. Her curiosity was certainly piqued by Elmer’s most unusual request.
After refilling the coffee cups, she set the pot onto the table, making certain that it rested on a pot holder to protect the table from a burn mark. Then she sat down and stared, wide-eyed, at her husband.
Elmer straightened his shoulders and tilted his chin, adopting a serious look. He reached up and stroked his beard. That was when Edna knew something important was on his mind.
“It’s almost Christmas,” he started in a slow, deliberate manner. “And I often do a lot of reflection at this time of year. God sent His son to us, an innocent and pure baby, to take on the sins of the world.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Edna noticed Jeremiah and Jonas fidget.
“Christmas represents new beginnings and change. So many things changed for the people of Israel because of God’s gift. So many things changed for people everywhere in the world, and they continue to change. All because of God’s gift.” He paused and reached for his coffee mug. Slowly, he took a sip. It was clear that he wasn’t about to rush this discussion.
“Change.” Elmer set down the mug again. “Change can be good or change can be bad. As an Amish man, I’ve learned that worldliness can lead to change, and frankly, I associated change with bad things. Electricity, automobiles, cellular phones. They all represented change and were to be shunned.”
He met Edna’s questioning stare.
“Recently, we’ve had a lot of change on our farm. Decreased revenue from our milk production led to increased work responsibilities for your maem. Not necessarily good change there.”
Jonas frowned. “But increased work for Maem helped with the decreased profits.”
Elmer nodded. “That’s true. We can always look at things from two different perspectives. And that’s what I’m going to ask you to do when I tell you about some new changes we’re going to have around here.”
The silence in the room felt heavy. Edna caught John giving her an inquiring look, as if to ask her if she knew what this was about. She gave a tiny shrug, indicating that she had no idea where her husband was going with this conversation.
“Change can be good, especially when it benefits the whole.” He scanned the faces of his three sons. “And by whole, I mean our family, those seated around the table today.” He leveled his gaze at John. “And those who might join our family in the future.”
John coughed and averted his eyes.
“So, beginning in the New Year, I am asking John to return to the farm.”
Immediately Jonas and Jeremiah bristled.
Elmer held up his hand. “One of you boys will apply to take over John’s position at the auction haus. The other one will look for employment, possibly in construction.”
Edna’s mouth practically fell open. Elmer was going to send both of the boys to find work away from the farm?
“You can’t do all this farmwork with just you and John!” Jonas cried out. “It’s already impossible with the three of us!”
But Elmer disagreed. “Nee, Jonas. It will be fine with just me and John to tend to it.”
Jonas gave an incredulous laugh.
“It’s true,” Elmer continued. “Let’s face it. Neither you nor Jeremiah is as enthusiastic about farming as John is. And his work ethic . . . well, let’s just say that he knows how to pull his weight two or three times over.”
Edna hoped that Jonas didn’t press his father, for she could imagine how hard Elmer was trying to select words that would not overly upset Jonas and Jeremiah. She snuck a look at John and saw that he appeared as surprised as she felt. Frankly, she hadn’t thought too much about John’s conversation with Elmer earlier in the week. She’d been too busy planning the previous week of serving meals to tourists and preparing for the school pageant later that afternoon. From the expression on John’s face, he, too, hadn’t expected an answer from his father so quickly, and possibly hadn’t expected it to be in his favor.
“But why both of us?” Jeremiah asked.
Elmer gave him a simple explanation. “I don’t want your maem working so hard come springtime. She took on far too much work this fall.”
His words surprised her. She’d never complained about working so hard. It was, after all, her family, and she liked being able to help. “Oh, Elmer. I didn’t mind.”
But Elmer held up his hand, cutting her off before she could say anything else. “Nee, Edna. You need time for yourself, too. You make cookies for Amish Aid, for church, for sick people. You crochet blankets for charity. You make quilts to cover the homeless. And you serve all those meals. While I’m grateful that you had help these past few weeks, I don’t want you taking on so many meals. One . . . maybe two a week. But no more. It’s too much work for you, even if you have help.”
When she heard Elmer list all of the things
she had been doing, Edna realized that he was right. It was too much for just one person. She needed more downtime so that she could focus on the most important of jobs: taking care of her family as well as herself. And the fact that Elmer felt that way made her heart fill with even more love for him.
What a wonderful Christmas gift her husband had just given to her.
Chapter Fifty-Four
Mary stood at the stove, stirring the cranberry sauce so that it didn’t stick to the bottom of the pan and burn. A sugary sweet smell filled the kitchen. She kept thinking back to what Verna had said at Edna’s the previous day. A wedding. Was it possible that John and Bethany would get married?
She knew that they hadn’t been courting each other very long, but Mary also knew that it didn’t really matter. She’d spent far less time with Abram during their brief courtship. When God wanted two people to be together, He found ways to make it happen. At least that was what she believed.
Bethany walked to the stove and peered over her mother’s shoulder. “How’s that coming along?”
“Gut. Almost ready to put into the mold.”
“I’ll fetch it.”
As Bethany went over to the counter, Mary watched her. If what Verna said was true, Bethany might not be living at home for very long. It was moments like these when Mary wished she could’ve had more children. She wasn’t ready to be without her daughter’s company, although she knew that she’d been blessed for the past nineteen years.
Bethany placed the metal mold on the counter. “What’s that look for?”
“What look?”
“You look sad.”
Mary gave her head a little shake. She hadn’t realized that Bethany had been watching her. “It’s just . . . the holidays. Makes me think about a lot of things, I suppose. Memories of the past. Thoughts for the future.”
Bethany placed her hand on her mother’s arm. “Those should both be happy, Maem. No reason to look so forlorn.”
She tried to smile. “You’re right.”
Bethany took the wooden spoon from her mother and stirred the cranberries one more time. “I think it’s ready to pour.” She reached for the pot holders and carefully removed the pot, tipping it so that the liquid filled the wreath-shaped mold. “There!” Standing back, she assessed her work. “That’ll be right pretty on a plain plate, don’t you think?”
