Amish Christmas Twins

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Amish Christmas Twins Page 3

by Shelley Shepard Gray


  E.A. moved over on the mattress so he could sit beside her. “I don’t think I could concentrate on anything right now.”

  “Why?” He played with one of the ties at her nightgown collar. “I promise, the kinner had a gut day. And I kept them safe. Neither of them ever left my sight.”

  “I didn’t doubt that for a second.” She looked at him fondly. “Actually, I guess I was just thinking about how glad I am to have married you.”

  He straightened. “Is that right? What made you think about me?”

  “You’re so silly. Of course I would be thinking of you. You’re a wonderful man, Will. So caring of Jemima and Roy.”

  “They’re good for me. E.A., when we were walking in the woods, there was a time when I had a child on each side of me. All I could think about was how proud I was that they were mine.”

  “Isn’t that something? I had thought it would maybe take months to feel like Jemima and Roy were ours. But I love them already.”

  “I do, too. Now I know what it feels like to be a parent. I would do anything I could to help them.”

  “I would, too.” She reached for his hand. “I don’t know how we’re going to tell them our news.”

  “I know. I was thinking . . . do you suppose maybe we could wait until after Christmas?”

  “After Christmas?” She couldn’t help the sound of dismay that was in her voice.

  “I know it’s going to be hard on you. I know you want to tell your parents, and you probably aren’t feeling too good, and you’re going to have to be pretending that you are just fine.” He flushed. “You know? Never mind. We can do whatever you’d like.”

  “I don’t want them to feel like they aren’t important to us. I can keep the secret, but I want to tell my parents, too. Maybe I can tell them privately.”

  “Jah. We can do that.”

  He sounded doubtful, though. Was it because he knew her or he knew her parents? Was he worried that they’d spill the secret?

  “I’ll make sure that they know they can’t tell anyone.”

  “If you tell your family, I’m going to have to tell mine.”

  “I know, Will. But I don’t see any way around it.” She looked down at her middle. “Especially since my body already seems to be changing.”

  “I didn’t think you would be showing already. Is that normal?”

  She chuckled. “I don’t know, but I guess it doesn’t matter if other women experience the same things. That’s what’s been happening to me.”

  He wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “You’re right, sweetheart. Whatever is happening is the right thing for us.”

  She decided right then and there that she would wait a little bit longer before telling anyone else about their news. There was too much at stake.

  Chapter 6

  Seven days before Christmas

  Unfortunately, all of E.A.’s good intentions about keeping the babe a secret flew out the window the next morning. Just as they were getting ready for church, her stomach decided that it didn’t want to keep her breakfast. She barely made it to the bathroom in time.

  But unlike the other times she’d gotten sick, her nauseous feelings didn’t dissipate a couple of minutes later. Instead, her stomach was churning so much, she ended up sitting on the bathroom tile with her back against the wall.

  “Mrs. Kurtz?” Jemima called out. “Mrs. Kurtz, are you all right?”

  E.A. could hear the worry in Jemima’s voice, but she didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t lie—and even if she wanted to, she knew a falsehood wouldn’t be believed, anyway. Feeling weak and woozy all over again, she closed her eyes and let out a small moan.

  “Mrs. Kurtz? Mrs. Kurtz, do you need some help?” Jemima asked. A few seconds later, she added, “Are you stuck in there? Do you need Mr. Kurtz to help you get out?”

  E.A. loved Jemima. She really did. But she was so tired of being called Mrs. Kurtz. Most of the time when she heard the words on Jemima’s tongue, she felt a little sad.

  But today, those words felt like little jabs to her heart. When was the girl ever going to learn to trust her? She moaned again.

  A couple of seconds later, Will rapped on the door. “Elizabeth Anne, you need to talk to us, please. Everyone out here is getting pretty worried.”

  Summoning up what she hoped was a cheery tone, she said, “I’m sorry. Jemima, please don’t worry. I’m a little sick, but that’s all. I’m sure I’ll feel better in a few minutes.” A few very long minutes.

  “You’re sick?” Roy asked, his voice sounding so close she wondered if he was leaning against the other side of the door. “E.A, are . . . are you going to go to the hospital?” His voice was frantic.

  “Nee. Of course not.”

  “Are you sure? How come we can’t go in and you won’t come out?”

  Oh, goodness. What a pickle.

  She saw the door handle jiggle right before it opened. Will peeked in, his expression somber. When he saw her on the floor, he looked pained. “Jem and Roy, we’ll be right out,” he said before closing the door.

  “I’m sorry about this,” she whispered.

  He squatted down on his haunches in front of her. “I’m sorry you feel so sick. Are you going to be okay?”

  “Of course. It’s just a bad case of morning sickness.” She lifted a hand. “I can get up now.”

  Instead of taking her hand, he stared at her intently. “Elizabeth Anne, it’s time to talk to them.”

  Her mouth watered as she tried to pull herself together. “But—”

  “Keeping this secret is making things worse for the kinner, not better. Their lives have already been uprooted many times. Keeping this a secret is causing them more stress that they don’t need.”

  He was right. She was being selfish and thinking only of what she wanted to deal with right at that minute. Resolving to be better, she held out a hand. “Help me up?”

  Looking relieved, he stepped forward and held out both of his hands. After she was steady on her feet, he ran the faucet in the sink, put a washcloth under it, and then handed it to her.

  The cool, wet fabric soothed her warm skin as well as her nerves. Just as she was about to ask where he wanted to have this conversation, the door creaked open and two dear little faces peered at her. Will had been right; they looked frightened half to death.

  “See?” she said to them. “I’m okay.”

  Jemima just gaped.

  Roy, on the other hand, wrinkled his nose in obvious disbelief. “E.A., I’m sorry, but you don’t look okay at all. You look like you’re gonna get sick again all over the floor.”

  “Don’t say that,” Jemima said.

  “But it’s true.” Roy shifted from one foot to the other. “I mean, don’tcha think?”

  “Jah, but we’re not supposed to tell her that,” Jemima whispered back.

  As queasy as she felt, E.A. couldn’t help but chuckle at their conversation. Will had been right. She wasn’t going to be able to keep this pregnancy a secret any longer. “I think it’s time we had a little talk.”

  “About what?” Roy asked.

  “I’ll let you know that answer in a minute. For now, you two go sit down in the living room, please. I promise that I’ll be right there.”

  Both children waited a minute. It was obvious they were afraid to let her out of their sight.

  “I promise, I’ll be right there,” E.A. continued in a firm voice. “But first, Will is going to help me straighten my kapp.”

  With obvious reluctance, Jemima and Roy backed away before disappearing from sight.

  When she heard their footsteps fade down the hall, she said, “I hope they won’t be too upset.”

  “They won’t. A boppli is a wonderful thing. Wunderbaar.”

  E.A. completely agreed.

  But she also realized that sometimes babies arrived at the most inopportune times. She feared this was one of those instances.

  Chapter 7

  E.A. laughed softly as she f
inished telling Jemima and Roy the news. “So that, children, is why I was feeling so bad this morning. It wasn’t because I was deathly ill—it’s because I’m going to have a baby.”

  Will reached for his wife’s hand. “I know it’s a surprise, but it was a mighty big surprise for us, too,” he said with a fond look at E.A. “However, I have a feeling that if you take a big breath and give yourselves some time to adjust to the idea, you both are going to feel as delighted as we do.”

  Though everything inside her wanted to kick and rail, Jemima only nodded. “I understand, Mr. Kurtz.”

  “You understand?” Will looked confused . . . and maybe sad, too?

  “Jah.” Remembering her manners, she smiled. “You are right, Mrs. Kurtz. This is gut news. I’m happy for you.” She wasn’t, but she couldn’t really say that. Actually, she couldn’t really do anything but sit there and wish she was somewhere else.

  No, wish that she was back in time, sitting in her old house with her real parents. That’s where she wished she was.

  Beside her, Roy inhaled and exhaled noisily. Then he did it again.

  E.A. looked alarmed. “Roy, what is wrong? Are you sick?”

  “Nee. I’m takin’ deep breaths, just like Will said I should.”

  Both Mr. and Mrs. Kurtz laughed. “I’m glad you’re doing as I asked, but it was just an expression, Roy,” Will said. “I meant that sometimes when God gives you something unexpected, it’s a gut idea to take a moment to reflect on it.”

  “I’m reflectin’ real hard.”

  Roy took another big, deep breath, which was really annoying. “Stop it, Roy,” Jemima said.

  He looked hurt. “But I’m reflecting.”

  “Oh, brother.” He was also being stupid.

  E.A. chuckled. “That’s a mighty gut pun there, Jemima.”

  She smiled, even though she had no idea what a pun was, but right now she didn’t care. “Is that all we needed to talk about, Mrs. Kurtz?”

  Will’s expression fell. “Jah, Jemima. Do you have any questions, though? We can talk about the baby, if you’d like. Or Christmas. We can talk about anything that might be bothering you.”

  She knew that wasn’t true. Neither Will nor E.A. was going to like to hear about anything that she was thinking about. “I don’t have any questions.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. Can I go to my room now?”

  “Jah, but I thought you were going to help me put together baskets for some of the widows in the area?” E.A. asked.

  “I’ll help you, but, um, I just need to go get something up in my room first.”

  Roy eyed her curiously. “What do you need to get, Jemima?”

  “That’s none of your business,” she snapped. Why couldn’t she just leave the room?

  “Sorry! I was just asking!”

  “I’m older, you know. You don’t have to know everything that I do.”

  “You don’t have to be so snippy, either.”

  “Oh, children. Let’s all calm down,” E.A. said.

  “I am calm. I’m just trying to go to my room! Can’t I leave now? Please?” Tears filled Jemima’s eyes. She turned her head away before anyone else could see.

  But of course they did.

  Will got to his feet. “Roy, let’s go to the mudroom and put on our boots and coats,” he said in a tone that sounded far too chipper. “You can come help me clear off the walkway.”

  Roy practically slid off the couch in his haste to be Will’s helper. “I’m a gut helper, but I’m gonna need gloves, too.”

  “Jah. Of course,” Will said as he rested a hand on her brother’s head. “We’ll get gloves for both of us. Let’s go. If we get our work done fast, we’ll have time to make a snowman, jah?”

  Roy practically started jumping up and down. “Jah. I’m gut at making snowmen, too.”

  As they disappeared from sight, E.A. smiled at Jemima. “I believe that brother of yours is as excited as a puppy in a field of rabbits.”

  The picture E.A. created was a good one, to be sure. But instead of relaxing her, it made Jemima sadder. There was no telling what her next set of foster parents would be like. Would they paint pretty pictures with their words or take the time to encourage her brother? She couldn’t imagine they would be so blessed two times in a row. No, the new foster parents would probably be more like Dan and Shirl.

  As her sense of doom heightened, Jemima got to her feet. She had to get out of the room before she burst into tears. “So, may I?”

  “You may, but may we talk for a moment before you leave?”

  “What do you want to talk about?” Jemima knew she sounded sullen and rather rude, but she didn’t want to talk about the baby anymore. She really didn’t want to pretend to be excited for E.A. and Will.

  No, all she wanted to do was go lie down on her bed, hug her pillow tight, and try not to think about what was going to happen. Her foster parents were going to have their own children; they wouldn’t need Jemima and Roy.

  “If you wouldn’t mind sitting down again, I’ll tell you. I promise, I won’t keep you here long, dear.”

  Dear? Did that mean she cared? Reminding herself that it was only an expression, Jemima sat back down and stared at her feet.

  “Jemima, you look so worried about the future. I hate to see that.”

  “I’m not worried,” she said quickly.

  “It’s okay if you are. I mean, I know that it can be hard when something occurs that seems to come out of left field. But I guess you know that.”

  Oh, she did. She knew far too well what it felt like to go from wishing that she could have hot fudge sauce on her ice cream to wishing that she had her parents again. There was no comparison.

  But how could she put such things into words? She couldn’t, especially if it risked making E.A. sad. Will would be very upset with her, and might even be so mad that he wouldn’t let them stay until Christmas.

  “All I want to do is get something from my room.”

  Looking disappointed in her, E.A. nodded. “I’m sorry, Jemima. Of course you may do that. How about you meet me in the dining room in a half hour or so? We’ll work on the baskets and then maybe make some pretzels.”

  Jemima scooted off the couch and hurried to her room. She closed the door and leaned up against it. And then slid down the wood until her head was resting near the floor. It was uncomfortable and the wood floor was cold, but she was safe. No one could come inside without her knowing.

  Only then did she start to pray for Jesus to watch over her and Roy this Christmas. She wasn’t sure if He was listening, but just in case He was, she made sure to say “please” a whole bunch.

  Chapter 8

  E.A. waited thirty minutes, which had been difficult, since each minute felt like two hours. Then she walked back upstairs. A dozen emotions warred inside her. She didn’t know how Jemima was feeling, not really. Her parents were still alive, and they were still living in the home E.A. had been born in. She’d never had a social worker assigned to her or lived with one foster family after another. She’d never even had a little brother to feel responsible for.

  No, the only thing E.A. and Jemima had in common was that Jemima was nine years old and E.A. had once been a little girl as well.

  But then she remembered that they had something more than that. They had love. E.A. already loved Jemima and Roy, and she wanted them in her life for years and years. She wanted to protect them and show them that even though life could sometimes be very, very hard, there were also good things that happened.

  She didn’t know if she had the right words to convey all that, but she knew she had to try. Feeling a little better, even though she worried that it was the exact wrong thing to do, E.A. at last knocked lightly on Jemima’s door.

  There was a pause and a sniff. “I’ll be right out,” she said at last.

  The little girl’s voice was hoarse, and she sounded so resigned that E.A. gave in to impulse and opened the door without waiting anoth
er second. To her surprise, the door almost hit Jemima’s leg when it swung in.

  Jemima scooted a few inches down.

  “Oh, honey. Look at you, sitting on the floor.” E.A. sat down next to her.

  “You don’t need to sit here, too.” Jemima was looking down at a hand, which was pressed flat on the edge of the beige area rug that covered a portion of the wooden floor.

  “I’m not so big that I can’t sit here with you.” She smiled sadly at her. “Jemima, I know we are still getting used to each other, but I think you need to know that I, um, like you very much.” She almost said “love,” but she was afraid to scare the child off.

  “You don’t have to say that.”

  “I am saying it because it’s true, child. I do like you a lot. You’re a likeable person.” She smiled softly. “You are sweet, and bright, and you care about Roy so much. If you had come into my sewing shop, I would want to know you better.”

  “Oh.”

  “You know, we haven’t talked a lot about your parents.”

  Jemima’s head whipped around. “Who?”

  “Your real mamm and daed. I know they were good people, and I know that they died in a car accident, but I don’t know much else about them.”

  Jemima’s blue eyes turned conflicted. “They were nice.”

  “I’m sure they were, but what was special about them?”

  “Special? I don’t know what to say.”

  “Why don’t you tell me about Christmas?”

  “Christmas?”

  “Jah. What did they do at Christmastime? Did your mother like to bake cookies? Did she send Christmas cards?”

  Jemima froze, then slowly nodded.

  E.A. leaned back against the wall. “My mother has always loved Christmas. She’s the type of person who starts making Christmas presents for other people in July or August. And, don’t tell anyone, but she secretly loves to sing Christmas carols.”

  “Really?”

  E.A. chuckled. “One time my daed and I caught her singing ‘Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer’ when she thought she was alone in the house.”

  “I don’t think my mother sang that.”

 

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