Christmas Comes to Morning Star

by Charlotte Hubbard

  Instead of trying to feed him, she put him back in his carrier. She packed his warm bottle among the containers of hot food in the cooler, donned her wraps, and brought the hitched buggy to the house. By the time everything was loaded, Marietta was fifteen minutes later than she’d intended to be when she started to the work site.

  But we made it, she thought as she glanced at Levi. His carrier rode on the front floor of the buggy, where she could see him, and the rig’s rocking motion soothed him into a half-sleepy state again. Marietta hoped he’d remain quiet while she was serving lunch, but who could tell? The whack of a hammer or the whine of a power saw might startle him, and then she’d have to start her settling routine all over again.

  There are some advantages to staying single, ain’t so?

  Though she’d always longed to be a mother, Marietta hated to admit that she might not be cut out to handle the stresses of parenting—which came so naturally to her married friends, for whom having babies and small children underfoot was the rule rather than the exception. She warned herself not to get swept away in a haze of romantic fantasy whenever she thought about Glenn, because he was a package deal. And once she’d said Yes and I do, there would be no going back to her peaceful maidel state.

  As the new Detweiler home came into view, Marietta set aside her conflicting thoughts. The structure closely resembled the house that had burned down, except—because the weather had been too cold for painting—white siding covered the outside. The new windows still bore manufacturer’s stickers, and the gray roof shingles shone dully in the sunlight.

  All around the foundation, dirt had been pressed into place so the rain would drain away from the house, and the remainder of the yard was covered with snow. With the original trees and outbuildings still in place, the Detweiler place didn’t look much the worse for wear, although Marietta suspected the lawn would be a muddy mess come spring. No trace of the fire remained, which had to be a big relief to Glenn and Reuben when they came here to work.

  Levi’s squawk drew Marietta from her woolgathering. When she drove the rig behind the house, where other buggies and a couple of pickups were parked, she was pleased to see Reuben stepping out the back door.

  “Hey there, lunch lady!” he called out cheerfully. “What can I help you with?”

  Marietta set the buggy’s brake. “Denki for coming out, Reuben. If you’ll take the baby inside and stable the mare, I can handle the food containers.”

  Glenn’s dat opened the buggy door and reached for the carrier’s handle. “You can handle anything you put your mind to, Marietta,” he remarked without missing a beat. “Mighty kind of you to take on all of us Detweilers. The middle two aren’t much trouble, but the oldest and this youngest one, we’re a handful, ain’t so?”

  Marietta laughed. “You tend to keep each other occupied, so it all works out, Reuben. How’s the work going today?”

  He lifted the basket from the floor. “Not as fast, with Pete missing,” he replied. “Even so, our Mennonite friends have put in some extra time with us, so we still figure we’ll move in a few days after Christmas. Depends on when a couple of appliances we’ve ordered arrive—and our beds.”

  As he stepped away with the baby, Marietta slid down from the seat onto the ground. “Bet you’ll be really glad to be home again, jah?”

  Reuben’s expression was a mix of emotions she couldn’t interpret. “Well, there’s a difference between being in a house in the same spot and being home,” he said softly. “Glenn says the same thing. What with everything being shiny and new, it seems almost too fancy to live in, you know? Or it just feels like somebody else’s place rather than ours.

  “But I won’t complain!” he added, putting on a bright smile. “Thanks to all the help from our friends, we’ll have a roof over our heads again real soon.”

  He glanced at the baby, who was starting to fuss despite the bandanna pacifier in his mouth. “Better get this little guy inside. I’ll tell the men to wash up.”

  As Marietta opened the rig’s back compartment, where she’d packed the containers of hot food, she pondered what Reuben had just said. Most women she knew would be ecstatic about having new floors and appliances and fresh walls, but maybe it was different for men. When she entered the kitchen carrying her cooler and a canvas tote full of disposable tableware, she stopped to look around. Men’s voices rang in the bedrooms above her, so she had a moment alone to assess the room.

  After she took off her coat and bonnet, Marietta walked slowly around the kitchen. From what she recalled of Sunday services in the Detweilers’ previous house, it had been about the same size but arranged a bit differently. Reuben had made a valid point: the dark gray countertops, white cabinets, and pale yellow walls were excruciatingly clean and fresh. The holes for a stove and refrigerator gaped like the spaces in Billy Jay’s mouth where he’d lost baby teeth.

  It looks like nobody lives here.

  Marietta set aside her puzzling thought. Many was the time she and Molly had discussed the improvements that would make their careworn old home more efficient, but it wasn’t her place to make suggestions for the Detweilers’ new place. As she began setting out stacks of plates, napkins, and cups, Levi let out a wail upstairs—which meant it wouldn’t be long before the men scattered to escape the baby’s earsplitting racket. There weren’t any rugs to absorb the sound, so she could imagine how his cries echoed in the empty rooms above her.

  Glenn was the first one to enter the kitchen, smiling despite the fussy baby on his shoulder. Before he could say anything, Marietta pulled the bottle of warm goat’s milk from between the big pans of chili and corn bread that had kept it warm.

  “He was too fussy to take it at home,” she explained.

  Glenn blinked. “You think of everything! Denki, Marietta.”

  Moments later, a blissful silence filled the kitchen, with only the undertone of Levi’s sucking and gurgling. Marietta didn’t spend too long looking at father and son, even though the picture they made tugged at her heartstrings. Soon Gabe and the rest of the construction crew were coming in to get their food, so she focused on pouring their water and setting out the butter, jars of jelly, and the pan of corn bread.

  “Oh, but this looks wonderful-gut!” Gabe said as he ladled chili into a bowl. “We spent the morning installing the toilets and bathroom sinks, so I’m ready to chow down.”

  Glenn set Levi’s empty bottle on the countertop, glancing at Marietta as he spoke to his coworkers. “You fellows go ahead and eat. I’ll walk Levi for a bit to settle his stomach—so maybe it’s a gut time to give you a tour of the place, Marietta?”

  Her first thought was that she should stay to serve the meal, but these grown men could surely help themselves, couldn’t they? The invitation in Glenn’s chocolate brown eyes held a message only for her—something he didn’t want to express in front of his friends.

  “I’d like to look around, jah,” she admitted. “Judging from the mudroom and the kitchen, everything’s nearly finished.”

  “Almost,” Howard put in as he placed two squares of corn bread on his plate. “Considering that this spot was just a pile of frozen-over ashes a couple of weeks ago, we’ve made incredible progress.”

  Marietta nodded at the fire chief’s assessment. As she followed Glenn out into the front room, which still had plywood subflooring, she noticed cans of paint sitting in one corner.

  “Now that the plumbing’s all installed, we’ll finish the painting,” her tour guide remarked. “What sort of flooring should we choose for this room? Which is easier to keep clean, wood floors or a nice vinyl?”

  When Glenn turned to face her, swaying gently with the baby on his shoulder, Marietta wasn’t sure what to say. She hadn’t missed the way he’d phrased his questions with we—and something told her he wasn’t alluding to his father.

  “I—I’ve always thought wood floors were homier in the front room and the bedrooms,” she replied hesitantly. “And with the newer type of coating t
hey put on hardwoods these days, they’re as easy to maintain as vinyl. But it’s not my money being spent, and it’s not my house, so—”

  “But it could be.”

  Glenn’s words were whispered, but to Marietta they sounded so loud and clear that the crew in the kitchen had surely heard them. She glanced back to where the men were eating and hurried toward the far end of the large front room.

  “Marietta, please can we talk upstairs?” Glenn pleaded softly as he followed her. “I’ve got words on my heart that just have to come out.”

  Her pulse pounded into high gear as she nodded. Her mind was spinning so fast, she barely saw the lustrous oak newel post, banister, and stairway as she hurried up toward the second story.

  Still holding the baby against his shoulder, Glenn reached for her hand as they reached the upper landing. “Marietta,” he whispered again. “It’s a blessing to have a new house, for sure and for certain, but it won’t be a home unless you join us here. Please will you marry me?”

  Marietta’s mouth dropped open, and her cheeks blazed. The first image that popped into her startled mind took her back to the day when they’d buried Elva Detweiler. At the meal after his mamm’s funeral, Glenn had shocked the crowd by cornering Lydianne at the dessert table and pleading with her, loudly enough that everyone could hear him.

  If I knew you’d be my wife, even if I had to wait awhile, I could make it from one day to the next. I’d have a life again.

  Recalling what Glenn had blurted out that day suddenly put everything into perspective for Marietta. Perhaps God had been speaking to her through her uncertain thoughts earlier this morning, and He was probably warning her again now. No matter how much she’d come to care for the man who stood before her with such an earnest expression on his face, she—and Glenn—needed to know if he was speaking out of love for her, or out of desperation.

  “I—are you sure about this, Glenn?” she asked gently. “It was only a couple of months ago, in October, that you were saying the same thing to Lydianne. And only a few months before that, in July, you lost your Dorcas.”

  Glenn’s Adam’s apple bulged as he swallowed hard. “I was out of my head with grief—didn’t know what I was saying—”

  “So maybe you should give this matter some more time, jah?”

  “—but now that I’ve been with you, Marietta, I—”

  He pivoted, releasing her hand with a harsh sigh. “I guess my heart and soul haven’t been watching the calendar as closely as you have. Time doesn’t mean a lot when you’ve been left alone, except that the days stumble by and the nights feel so desperately endless. I fell head over heels for you last night, when we were all together on the couch, and I thought you felt the same about me.”

  Marietta clasped her hands in front of her, pondering what she should say next. Over Glenn’s shoulder, little Levi was watching her, his face dimpled with recognition that touched her deeply. If Glenn left—if he took his boys with him—her life would have some large empty spots for a while.

  But she would still have a life.

  “You’ve had a tough time of it, Glenn,” she murmured, praying that her words would say what her heart sincerely meant without sounding cruel. “You and your boys and your dat mean the world to me, and it’s been such a blessing to get to know you better while you’ve been staying with us these past couple of weeks. But—”

  “Jah, there’s always a but,” he muttered.

  Marietta paused. She had just turned down his proposal of marriage, so he had reason to be cross. If she didn’t tell him her truth, however, the potential for misunderstanding would always loom between them.

  “I can’t possibly imagine how devastated you’ve been these past several months, Glenn—how desperate you must be to have a wife again and to have someone caring for your boys,” she said softly.

  Glenn showed no sign of refuting her, or of leaving, so she continued carefully.

  “But I am not desperate,” she said. Marietta grasped the upstairs railing to anchor her thoughts, noting how smooth and flawless the woodwork felt in her hand. “Molly and I have made a satisfying life for ourselves, and even if she eventually hitches up with Pete, I will still have a home and a business that supports me. I’m thirty-five, and I’m a cancer survivor. I’m in no hurry to marry—and I refuse to marry for any reason other than a love that makes me deliriously happier and more complete than I already am.”

  Glenn still faced away from her, swaying with his baby boy as though his life depended upon it.

  As the silence ticked by with each beat of her heart, Marietta wondered if she should stay or go. She really hadn’t given Glenn anything to respond to, she realized. She’d simply stated her side of the story. After a few more excruciating moments, Marietta started down the stairs.

  “Wait—please,” Glenn murmured. As he looked over the railing at her, his doleful brown eyes resembled those of a forlorn dog begging forgiveness for misbehavior.

  Marietta stopped, gazing up at him.

  “I guess I never thought of it that way—what you said about already having a satisfying life, not really needing a husband,” he continued. “I always assumed that women who didn’t marry felt they’d been passed by—felt like outsiders in our Amish society, which is based on couples having families.”

  She shrugged. “Some women do.”

  Glenn sighed deeply. “I didn’t get the answer I wanted from you today, but you’ve given me something to think about. And you gave me gut insights about the flooring. I guess I’d better leave it at that rather than saying anything more, digging myself into a deeper pit, ain’t so?”

  Marietta couldn’t help smiling. “There’s that, jah.”

  He rolled his eyes. “You’re not going to help me one little bit, are you?” he asked in a lighter tone. “But remember this, Marietta: Billy Jay may have drawn your birthday card—and that was entirely his idea—but we all signed it. And we all meant what we said.”

  She nodded. Recalling the love expressed in that hand-drawn card made her throat so tight, she didn’t trust her voice.

  “So I guess I’ll go eat some of that fine chili and corn bread you brought before my cohorts gobble it all down,” Glenn continued, sounding somewhat recovered from the intensity of their conversation. “Denki for bringing our lunch today, Marietta. If you’ll take Levi, Dat and I will bring your pots and dishes back with us this evening.”

  He’d given her a graceful way out, so she took it. Marietta preceded him into the kitchen and chatted briefly with Gabe and the other fellows while she fetched her wraps. Glenn put the baby back in his carrier and covered him lightly with his blue crocheted blanket before handing him over.

  “Gut to see you—and thanks again for lunch,” he remarked with a smile she couldn’t quite interpret.

  Marietta nodded, hoping their onlookers weren’t speculating about what might’ve passed between them while she was supposedly touring the rest of the house. As she stepped outside, she inhaled deeply to clear her head with crisp winter air. She was lifting the carrier into the rig when she figured it out: Levi had dirtied his diaper, and pretty badly, by the smell of it.

  This is how it would probably be if you and Glenn got hitched. Don’t husbands always pass off a stinky baby to their wives as a sign of their devotion?

  Marietta laughed out loud. For the time being, she’d sidestepped that issue, hadn’t she?

  As she drove down the road toward home, she had mixed emotions about turning down the only marriage proposal she’d ever received. “But You were talking to me, Lord, in my doubtful thoughts, and I’m glad I listened,” she said aloud. “If we’re going to do this, Glenn’s got to get it right—for his sake, and for mine, as well.”

  Chapter 22

  Pete floated up to a higher level of awareness, yet he was unsure of whether the disjointed images in his mind were memories or dreams. He had no idea how long he’d been asleep or what had caused the long-running succession of mental movies that
seemed to make no sense. Some of the faces that flitted through his mind seemed vaguely familiar, while others appeared grotesquely misshapen and frightening. He was becoming more cognizant of pain all over his body—his left leg and arm hurt like the dickens—but he had no idea how to alleviate it. He had a sense that he wasn’t in his own bed, but where was he?

  He did know, however, that the sounds around him were becoming more distinct—and that one of them was morphing into a voice.

  “Hey, Shetler, you really need to wake up now.”

  Shetler—what was that? Pete was on the verge of calling up a definition, but the voice continued before he could figure it out. There was a metallic jingle and other sounds coming from a lower level, but he couldn’t place those, either.

  “I won’t be able to hold Riley on the floor much longer, Pete.” The speaker sounded closer to his ear now, and more insistent. “If he makes a scene and the nurses find out I sneaked him in, we’re in big trouble here.”

  Woof. And another jingle.

  Pete tried desperately to remember what those sounds meant—partly because they weren’t making any demands of him, the way the voice was. He couldn’t handle demands yet, so he tried to retreat back into the quiet mental void he’d emerged from. But it wasn’t working.

  “Riley, sit, boy! Jah, this is Pete, but he’s not ready to see you yet.”

  Riley . . . Pete . . . Sit, boy! Once again he was aware that those words had meaning, but he couldn’t nail them down—

  A sudden crunch of moving weight landed on his left side—his bad side—and as a cry escaped him, something wet and rough was bathing his face. The smell was earthy and gamy and—

  “Riley, get down! You’re hurting him!”

  A shrill beep-beep-beep made Pete’s head throb with a whole new flash of sensation—