by Leslie Gould
“Denki.” Noelle would need to get the kitchen unpacked on Monday and the shopping done. She could then start baking on Tuesday and finish up, with Moriah’s help, on Wednesday.
Moriah continued to stand with her arms crossed. Noelle wasn’t sure what to say. They used to be close—the best of friends. But then Moriah had married about the time Jesse left for Montana. Perhaps Noelle, deep in her own grief, hadn’t been as happy for Moriah as she should have been. And then when Moriah’s husband had died a year ago, their relationship had grown even more strained.
When Moriah drifted off toward a group of women, Jesse headed toward Noelle. In her experience, no one was as determined as Jesse King when he put his mind to something.
“Could we talk?” He nodded toward the window seat on the enclosed porch, in the nook that used to be their special spot.
As much as Noelle wanted to flee, she was curious to hear Jesse’s side of the story. She followed him to the window seat but sat as far away from him as possible and crossed her arms.
Jesse exhaled. “I need to know why you didn’t want me to come back.”
Was he trying to pin their breakup on her? “You chose to stay in Montana.”
“You were angry with me,” he said.
Noelle shook her head, baffled. “Of course, I was angry with you. We’d had a fight and you left in the middle of it.”
“I had a train to catch.”
Noelle stared at him until he looked away.
“Jah, I shouldn’t have gone. I see that now. I didn’t realize how bad your Mamm was at the time.” His eyes stayed on the floor.
She tried to choose her words carefully. “Even though we’d had a fight, I expected you to come back.”
He crossed his arms and met her eyes again. “That’s not what I heard.”
She stood.
“Noelle.” His voice sounded defensive.
The Jesse she used to know was honest and willing to take responsibility for his actions. Now he was being deceptive—and manipulative.
She fled, slipping into the kitchen. Ten minutes later she managed to eat with the first sitting. Thankfully, Dat did too.
After the meal, he was tired and wanted to go home. Relieved for an excuse to leave, Noelle told Barbara good-bye, ignoring the baby still in the woman’s arms. Barbara gave her a sympathetic look but didn’t say anything. Noelle’s face grew warm, and the shame burned straight through her all over again. Why hadn’t Barbara told her he’d married? And then that his wife had died?
Dat was quiet on the way home. When he closed his eyes, Noelle assumed he’d fallen asleep. But then he said, “If we love, we grieve. It cannot be helped.”
Had he seen her outburst? When Dat didn’t say any more, Noelle’s thoughts returned to Jesse. She had loved him. Then grieved him. And then here he came, stirring everything up again.
“The challenge,” Dat added, “is not to close off our hearts to love. We have to find ways to embrace hope and joy in our lives.”
Noelle stared straight ahead at the horse’s sloped back. Hope. Joy. Love. All included in Dat’s brief words—all included in Holly’s Advent story. Wise words. But also impossible words. She couldn’t imagine what it would take for her to open her heart again.
After Dat had settled down for a nap, Noelle wished she could get started on unpacking the Kicha, but no work was allowed on Sunday. Dat might not notice when he woke up, but Ted could stop by at any moment. Or Salome. Both would rebuke her for her sin of working on the Sabbath, with no hesitation.
Instead, she stood at the living room window and watched the sunlight sparkle on the brilliant landscape. Out in the field was the frozen pond where she and Jesse used to skate. She thought of the snowmen they’d built and the snowball fights they’d had. Racing across the ice. Making snow angels. Going for moonlight rides in his sleigh. There was no season she loved more than winter, and nothing she’d loved more than spending frosty days with Jesse.
She’d feared Jesse would grow bored with her, since she was so quiet and shy. Because he was so gregarious, outgoing, and such a people person, she was always surprised that he wanted to be with just her. But, at the time, it seemed he genuinely did. It wasn’t that they didn’t spend time with others. They did. At Jesse’s side, she enjoyed the interaction with others.
But it seemed he’d been bored with her all along, causing all of her hopes and dreams to shatter. Without even an explanation.
Her mother had told her, in the unsteady way she spoke after her stroke, that the pain would ease with time, and it partly had. Noelle had stopped thinking about Jesse every moment of the day, stopped mulling over the fight they’d had that morning he came to take her to the train station. Stopped searching her memories for what had gone wrong.
But as she stared across the frosty expanse, it all came tumbling through her mind again.
Mamm had her stroke the day before, and Noelle had left a message for Jesse saying she couldn’t go and asking him to stay too—but he hadn’t received it. He came bouncing up the sidewalk to the Dawdi Haus, excited for their trip together. A cousin on his mother’s side had moved to Montana the year before and had asked Jesse to ranch with him. Jesse wanted Noelle to see the place, to decide if she thought she could live that far away from her parents. If so, once they returned, the two of them planned to join the church, marry, and move to Montana. If she didn’t think she could live that far from home, they would still come back and join the church and marry, but figure out a way to make a living in Lancaster County.
But once Mamm fell ill, Noelle couldn’t leave. That morning, she’d asked Jesse not to go, but he insisted he should. He believed because her mother had survived her stroke that everything would be all right. “I need to do this for us,” he said. “I’m fine with you staying, but I need to go.”
When she’d yelled at him, “Go then, just go!” he’d turned away from her, puzzled, and did just that, promising he’d be back in a few weeks. When he didn’t return and instead dated an Englisch girl, she was crushed. That wasn’t the Jesse she knew, the one she’d given her heart to. He’d abandoned her.
For the first two years, memories of him stalked her. She willed them to stop, even begged God to take them away, but they wouldn’t leave her. Finally, as Mamm grew worse, the memories became less vivid. And then when Mamm died, Noelle felt doubly abandoned.
And now, with Jesse’s return, she couldn’t deny that the hollow, unsettled feeling she’d fought for so long to banish was growing stronger again.
As she turned away from the dazzling sunlight reflecting on the snow, she remembered the Advent calendar from Holly and headed to her room. She opened the first little window with a star on it, in the top left-hand corner, popped out the piece of chocolate, and then read Why? John 3:16. She didn’t know a lot of verses by memory, but she knew that one. She didn’t need to look it up in the Bible Mamm and Dat had given her when she’d joined the church. For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son . . .
She slipped the chocolate into her mouth and then let it melt. Literally. A creamy warmth flowed through her. Holly was blessed with good ideas, an amazing talent, and the ability to sell. If only Noelle could say the same about herself.
Over the next three days, she accomplished all of her tasks, while caring for her father too. As she and Moriah packed the cardboard boxes on Wednesday evening, Noelle asked her niece if she’d go with her to the market.
“Nee.” Moriah placed the last apple pie in the box. “I have other plans.”
Noelle bristled but then remembered it was nearing the one-year anniversary of Moriah’s husband’s death. Eugene had been herding cows across the highway when a truck came over the hill. The driver slammed on the brakes but still plowed into him. He’d died instantly.
Perhaps Moriah was thinking about him too because she said, “I feel so bad for Jesse, losing his wife.”
Noelle didn’t respond. She felt badly too, but her emotions sti
ll churned. She didn’t trust herself to say anything.
Moriah’s eyes glistened. “When Eugene died, Jesse sent me a sympathy card. He would have been married by then, but he didn’t say anything about that, just how sorry he was for my loss.”
That sounded like Jesse—at least the man she once knew.
Moriah brushed at her eyes. “Did I tell you I found out when his wife died?”
Noelle shook her head as her chest tightened. Jesse had been married. They had a baby. His wife had died. She could hardly comprehend it all.
“Right after giving birth.”
Noelle gasped.
Moriah nodded. “Isn’t that awful? Jesse lost his wife and became a single dad all in one day.”
Noelle struggled to catch her breath.
“You’re not still mad at him, are you? Not after everything he’s gone through.”
Forgive and forget was what Noelle had been taught her entire life. But, despite the pain he’d gone through, she hadn’t forgotten what Jesse had done to her. And what was even more surprising was that he, because his mother had left him, had asked her several times if she was serious about her love for him, trying to confirm she would never leave him, never reject him.
Then he’d left her. And rejected her too.
Before she could figure out how to answer Moriah’s question about being mad at Jesse without revealing her own pain, the front door swung open and Salome stepped into the living room. She peeled off her bonnet and shook the snow from it, revealing her gray hair under her Kapp. She called out a hello to Dat as she slipped off her coat.
She waved at Noelle and Moriah. Then she marched, her hips swaying, over to Dat’s side. “My chiropractor said it would do my back good to walk a little, so I decided to come over and see you.”
He smiled up at her, his faded hazel eyes heavy. He’d been twenty-nine when Salome had been born and fifty-five when Noelle came along. Now, at seventy-seven, he was all tuckered out after a lifetime of farming. Of course, grief had worn him down too. He’d been lost since Mamm had her stroke and even more so since she’d died.“Sis,” Dat said. Salome was the only one he called that. Probably because she was the oldest. “How are plans coming for our Family Christmas?”
Noelle turned toward the living room, not wanting to miss a single word.
“Do you think you feel up to it?” Salome asked. “Wouldn’t you rather have a quiet Christmas with just us?”
“Why?” Concern filled Dat’s voice. “Do the other girls not want to gather together?”
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Salome said. “I just thought it might be too much for you.”
Noelle glanced at Moriah, but her niece just shrugged. What was Salome up to? First her reason was that her back was bad, but now she was insinuating Dat wasn’t up to Family Christmas.
“Besides,” Salome said, “maybe it’s time for each family to start doing their own thing. Of course, you’ll come to my house for Christmas, so there’s no need to worry about that.”
Noelle bristled. Where would she go?
“No,” Dat said. “We do not want to stop having Family Christmas. Especially not this year.”
“Well, we may have to.” Salome’s voice grew louder, as if Dat might not be hearing her clearly. “We don’t have a place big enough anymore.”
“The shed,” Dat responded.
“But it’s so cold. And, honestly, we’ve grown by twenty or so between marriages and new babies this year. There are over a hundred of us now. We’d be crowded in there.”
Noelle knew that was false. They held church in the shed once a year. And they’d had last year’s Family Christmas there.
Dat said as much.
“That’s true,” Salome replied. “But we’re too big to sit around a circle like we’ve always done.” She patted Dat’s hand.
“Then find a bigger place.” Dat pulled his arm away.
“Like where?” Salome asked. “And on Christmas Day? Who’s going to have a place we can use?”
Noelle couldn’t stay quiet any longer. “We’ll figure out something.”
Salome pursed her lips together, turned toward Noelle, and then said, “Let me know when you do.”
CHAPTER THREE
The weather had warmed on Wednesday night, turning the snow to rain. All of the world seemed to be dripping and melting and colorless as Noelle rode with Pamela to the market on Thursday morning. She turned her face toward the window, as if she were entranced with the dreary scene. She wasn’t. In reality, she was trying to calm her nerves about working at the market again.
It didn’t help that Holly’s booth was empty when she arrived and remained that way until long after the market had opened. Seeing her was the only thing Noelle had been looking forward to.
But someone else was present. Jesse. He wore a forest-green shirt with his black pants, suspenders, and a pair of work boots. Noelle guessed Barbara was watching the baby. He worked all alone in the furniture booth, kitty-corner from Noelle and behind Holly, selling rocking chairs, hope chests, and bookcases. Why couldn’t he be on the other side of the market, if he had to be around at all?
Several times Jesse tried to catch Noelle’s eye, but each time she shifted her gaze. There wasn’t anything more she wanted to talk with him about. In fact, she wished—with all of her heart—that he would go away.
But neither of them had much business, so when he strode over to her booth she couldn’t ignore him.
He spoke softly and kept a good amount of distance between the two of them, which she appreciated. “Look,” he said. “I just wanted to say hello. And to say how sorry I was when I heard about your Mamm. I should have said that when I first saw you again and at least by the second time. She was a wonderful person—and I know how important she was to you.”
Noelle swallowed hard, trying to dislodge the lump in her throat. Finally she managed to say, “Denki. I heard about your wife. I’m really sorry for you and your baby.”
For a moment it appeared he might cry, but then he managed to smile a little. “I appreciate your kindness.”
Noelle tried to breathe, but the air felt thick and heavy, and it filled her throat.
“I know our conversation didn’t go well on Sunday, but I’m hoping we can—”
“That’s not a good idea.”
“What’s not a good idea?”
Noelle turned. Holly stood in the middle of the aisle, a plastic crate in her hand.
“Nothing,” Noelle muttered.
Holly introduced herself to Jesse. He greeted her and then returned to his booth.
“At least you two are talking, right? That’s a step in the right direction.” Holly’s eyes lit up.
Noelle ignored the comment. She knew Holly was joking—and that she had no idea how much it hurt. “I was afraid you weren’t coming.”
“We had to stop by the college so I could turn in my final paper.”
“College?”
“Lancaster Community College,” she said. “I’m on the slow track. I only take two classes a term. Next week is finals, but my big paper was due today.” She jerked her head toward her brother, who had just shown up, carrying two more crates. “Carlos didn’t have any big papers due this term, which isn’t fair. Right?”
Noelle nodded in agreement, even though she wasn’t sure if it was fair or not. Because she had no one stopping by her booth, Noelle offered to help. Holly gave her the four purple candles, white candle, and wreath to set up. Noelle did so, carefully placing the wreath on the counter and then inserting the candles into the holders. She took a step backward. The purple candles were so rich, and the white such a stark contrast.
Noelle asked Holly if she had any more Advent calendars.
“No, silly,” Holly answered as she switched the light on one of the purple candles. “No one wants those after the first Sunday of Advent. We only sell those in November.”
“Oh,” Noelle said. “I’m enjoying mine.”
“Oh yeah? What’s the verse for the day?”
“Isaiah 7:14. ‘Therefore the Lord himself shall give you a sign . . .’” She couldn’t remember the rest.
But Holly did. “‘Behold, a virgin shall conceive, and bear a son, and shall call his name Immanuel.’” She grinned again. “How do you like the chocolate?”
“It’s delicious. Did you make it?”
Holly shook her head. “My mother does the Advent calendars. She made them before she left.”
“Where’d she go?”
“To be with our grandmother.”
“Oh.” Noelle paused but then asked, “Is she coming back? For your birthday? For Christmas?”
Holly shrugged and glanced at Carlos.
“We’ll see,” he said, his voice deeper than usual.
Noelle wasn’t sure if she should ask any more questions, so she didn’t, but she wondered about the rest of Holly’s family. Where was her father? Did she have other siblings? Aunts and uncles? Cousins?
Salome had said one time that there were more Hispanic people in Lancaster County than Amish people, and that their population had grown rapidly in the last ten years. Noelle had the feeling Salome viewed it in a negative way, but at least she hadn’t been overt about her opinion, for once.
Hopefully Holly had more family around than just Carlos.
In the afternoon, Noelle’s nephew Paul and his wife, LuAnne, stopped by the booth, taking Noelle by surprise.
“We’re Christmas shopping.” Paul was large like his Dat. “Moriah’s watching the kids so we can shop. We’re going in with Moriah to buy a clock for the folks.”
Paul had always loved shopping for Christmas, even though the Amish didn’t give much. A clock for Salome and Ted was a big item.
“We’re also looking for little gifts for Family Christmas,” Paul said.
“Your Mamm didn’t tell you she doesn’t want to have it this year?”
Paul’s voice boomed. “What?”
Noelle’s face grew warm. “Jah,” she said. “She thinks each family should just do their own celebration.” Noelle didn’t have the heart to list all of Salome’s reasons.