She was just pulling a pan of gingerbread men from the oven when there was a knock on the door and Lizzie peeked in.
“Hi.”
“Hi.” Surprised, Rebecca smiled.
Lizzie bit her lip and paused, looking shy. “Can I come in?”
“Ya.” Rebecca set the pan of cookies on the counter. “Does your dat know you’re here?”
Lizzie started to nod but then she shook her head. “I keep asking him when we can come see you and every day he says, Not today, Lizzie. So I brought myself. I miss you.”
Rebecca felt a twinge in her heart. “I miss you, too. But your dat needs to know where you are.”
She picked up her cellphone and handed it to Lizzie. “Call your dat and tell him you walked over here.”
Lizzie’s gaze went to the cookies. “But he’ll make me go home. I want to stay and help you with the cookies.”
“So ask your dat if you can stay awhile and help.”
Lizzie called her dat and Rebecca didn’t have to hear what he was saying. The look on the kind’s face spoke volumes. She asked if she could stay and make cookies with Rebecca and her bottom lip trembled at whatever he said. She nodded and held out the phone to Rebecca. “He says I should ’pologize and he wants to talk to you.”
She took the phone. “Ya?”
“I didn’t know she was there,” he said quickly.
“She told me. She wants to stay and make cookies.”
“I don’t want her to be a pest.”
“She isn’t. I don’t mind if she stays.”
He sighed. “I’ll come get her in an hour.”
“Allrecht.” She broke the connection and turned to Lizzie. “He said he’d come get you in an hour.”
Lizzie’s eyes shone. She took off her coat and bonnet and hung them up. Then, without being asked, she went to the sink and washed her hands. “I like making gingerbread men best of all.”
“Me, too.” She used a spatula to transfer the cookies from the baking sheet to a rack to cool. “Sit at the table and you can decorate them.”
Lizzie climbed up into a chair and bent her head over a cookie. Rebecca watched her bite her bottom lip as she carefully applied icing and then raisins for eyes and candies for buttons. She noticed some of the candies disappeared into Lizzie’s mouth, but she figured that was part of the fun and couldn’t resist popping a couple of them into her mouth, too.
Oh, she’d missed the man but she’d missed his dochder, too.
“This is fun!”
Rebecca nodded and piped icing on a cookie.
“Are you having fun, too?” she asked seriously.
“I am. I’m glad you came along to help me.”
“Maybe I can come and help you decorate more cookies another day?”
Tears burned the backs of her eyelids at the wistfulness in her voice. “Maybe.” She didn’t dare promise anything. “Have you baked any cookies with your dat?”
She shook her head. “We were too busy helping Aenti Hannah until Onkel Levi came home the day she came home from the hospital. Daed’s been doing a lot of laundry he got behind on, and we’ve been cleaning our house up.”
“Maybe the two of you can make some this week. I can give you the recipe.”
“That would be nice.”
“Why don’t you pick out some of the cookies and you can take them home when your dat comes for you?”
“Really?”
“Really.” She rose to get a tin for the cookies and brought her recipe box and a pen back to the table. “I think you should eat one of the cookies now to make schur they taste gut, don’t you?”
“Ya!”
“I’ll get you a glass of milk.”
“Danki, Rebecca.” Lizzie chose a half dozen different varieties of cookies and placed them carefully in the tin. One of her gingerbread men went on top.
Rebecca poured a glass of milk and set it down in front of the little girl. Then she sat and flipped through her recipes. “Which cookie do you think you want to make with your dat?”
“The gingerbread men.”
So she copied the recipe onto a card and wondered what Samuel would think when Lizzie carried it home.
She kept her eye on the kitchen clock and had Lizzie ready to leave when an hour had passed. Samuel was on time and barely had a chance to climb the steps to the back porch before she sent Lizzie out to meet him. Then Lizzie ruined everything by turning and running back to throw her arms around her legs.
“Danki for letting me come over.”
“You’re wilkumm.” She started to say ‘Merry Christmas’ since it was less than a week away but hesitated, afraid it would just make Lizzie ask awkward questions. Lifting her gaze, she looked at Samuel, then glanced away.
“You’re coming to the schul Christmas play, right? Daedi told you about it?”
He hadn’t but she wouldn’t tell Lizzie that. It would only lead to more questions.
“Of course. You know several of my nieces and nephews are in it, right?”
Lizzie nodded. “See you.”
Turning, Rebecca went into the house and threw herself back into her baking.
She filled the days before Christmas with work and tried not to think about Samuel and Lizzie.
She and Cassie met in town for their annual Christmas lunch. Rebecca enjoyed hearing how happy her freund was and listened to her talk about the brief honeymoon she and Steve had enjoyed in Philadelphia.
When Cassie asked about Samuel, Rebecca pretended all was well. She didn’t want to get depressed or make Cassie sad when she was so happy. They’d talk about it in the New Year, just not now.
Some things were best left not talked about.
* * *
Samuel felt his heart leap when he saw Rebecca walk into schul the day of the Christmas play.
Then it fell when she met his gaze and looked away.
He hadn’t invited her but what had he been thinking? She had nieces and nephews who attended the one-room schul, so of course she’d attend. He watched her greet familye and freunds as she walked over to deliver the big box of cookies and cupcakes she’d brought to Teacher Mary Liz.
Hannah nudged him. “Go say hello. You know you want to.”
“Nee.”
“Stubborn.”
“Hannah,” Levi murmured. “Let the man be.”
“If I do, he’ll never make up with her.”
“It’s his business.”
“He’s my bruder. He’s my business.”
Levi rolled his eyes. “We should take our seats. They’ll be starting soon.”
The desks the pupils sat at were shoved to one side of the room and chairs had been brought in. As they took their seats, Lizzie peeked out from behind a curtain that had been strung up. When she saw them, she waved and then ran out to hug Samuel.
“Daedi! Rebecca came!”
“I see.”
She grinned at him as he straightened her halo made of bright-gold garland. “Thank Aenti Hannah for helping you with your costume.”
“Danki, Aenti Hannah.” She smoothed a hand over her flowing white gown and then leaned down and smiled at Sarah Ann in Hannah’s arms.
“Do you think she’ll wake up and watch me be an angel in the play?”
“She might.”
“We have a doll baby lying in the manger like Baby Jesus. Teacher Mary Liz says it’s not safe to have a real-life boppli with all us kinner bouncing around. But I’d watch the boppli and make schur it didn’t get hurt, because I’m the Harold Angel.”
“Herald Angel,” Samuel corrected, trying not to grin.
“Herald Angel,” Lizzie said, nodding.
“Lizzie!”
She glanced over and saw Teacher Mary Liz gesturing at her. “I gotta go.” She scampered off and vanished behind the curtain.
The seats around them filled. Samuel held his breath when Rebecca looked around and then sat next to her mudder.
“Have you talked to her yet?” Hannah murmu
red in his ear.
He shook his head. “Let it go.”
She sighed. Luckily, Sarah Ann stirred and stole her attention. Then Mary Liz strode to the front of the room and everyone fell silent as she welcomed them, introduced the play, and took a seat at the side.
Lizzie walked out and fidgeted with her halo and frowned. Samuel held his breath. They’d practiced her lines for hours. What if she’d forgotten them? Terror clutched him.
Then she began. “An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, ‘Do not be afraid. I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people.’”
She faltered for a moment and looked in his direction. He began mouthing the words and she picked them up again. “‘Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is Christ the Lord.’”
Samuel let out the breath he’d been holding. She looked in his direction and grinned at him, then stepped back and another kind began speaking.
“She did gut,” Hannah whispered.
He nodded, trying not to be prideful. But he told himself that it couldn’t be wrong to feel a little pride in how his dochder had done. He wondered if God ever looked down and felt pride in what His kinner did.
Jacob appeared as one of the three wise men dressed in a shiny gold crown and purple cloak and carrying a gift, but he didn’t have any speaking lines. He waved to his eldres and nearly dropped the carved box before getting a stern look from his teacher and assuming a reverent pose looking down at the Baby Jesus.
Samuel recognized a number of Lizzie’s little friends as they stepped out and recited poems and performed in skits. He saw other eldres silently mouthing the lines their kinner spoke just as he had when Lizzie played the angel. Just like him, they appeared relieved when their kind finished and beamed as he had.
Young voices lifted in sweet harmony singing Christmas hymns. One of the oldest pupils sang “Stille Nacht”—“Silent Night” in German—in tones so pure they sounded like crystal. A hush fell over the audience and then a kind called out, “Merry Christmas!” and everyone laughed.
The pupils took their bows and rushed into their eldres’ arms, and then it was time for the refreshments that lined a long table. Samuel and Lizzie had baked gingerbread men according to Rebecca’s recipe and brought a big container of the ones that had turned out best. The first batch had been tossed out to the chickens, but Samuel thought the second batch had been pretty gut.
“I want to show Rebecca our cookies,” Lizzie told him, pulling him by his hand. “You come with me.”
“You can go by yourself,” he said quickly. “I want to get some coffee.”
“Nee, you come,” she insisted.
He opened his mouth to refuse again when he saw Rebecca looking in their direction. Her eyebrows rose in question. There was no way to refuse without her knowing.
“Fine.” He walked with her over to Rebecca.
“Did you see the gingerbread men I made with my daed?” Lizzie asked her.
“Not yet.”
Lizzie took her hand and led them both to the refreshment table. “There,” she said with satisfaction. “Aren’t they pretty? Daedi read the recipe and we made them yesterday. We only burned a couple when we started. Daedi said he’d give them to the chickens but they wouldn’t eat them.”
Samuel picked up a cookie and shoved it into Lizzie’s mouth to silence her.
Rebecca laughed. “I burned a lot of things when I first started cooking and baking.”
He cast about for some way to get away from her. Then Miriam walked up and began talking to Lizzie.
“The punch looks gut. Can I get some for either of you?” Samuel offered.
“Nee, danki,” Rebecca said. “I’m going to say hello to Hannah and head on home. It’s been a busy week.” She walked away quickly.
“I’d like some punch,” Miriam said.
“I will get it,” Lizzie mumbled around her cookie. She was ladling the bright-red liquid into a paper cup before Samuel could stop her. He’d never know if she could have managed the task herself, for another kind jostled her elbow as he reached for a cookie and red punch splashed down the front of Lizzie’s angel robes. She let out a bloodcurdling scream and dropped the empty cup to stare at the stain spreading down her front.
Rebecca rushed back. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s punch, not blood,” Samuel said quickly. “Lizzie, hush! You’re scaring everyone.”
“It’s all over my dress!” she wailed.
“It’ll come right out,” Rebecca soothed. “Come on—we’ll go soak it in some water in the bathroom sink.” She led Lizzie toward the restroom at the rear of the schul.
“You’d think it was the end of the world,” he muttered.
“Well, it seemed like it to her,” Miriam told him calmly. “That’s kinner for you. I’ll take a cup if you don’t mind getting it for me.”
He carefully ladled a cup of the punch and handed it to her, then served himself. They stood there sipping their drinks. Samuel shifted his feet, feeling awkward with her. Had Rebecca said anything to her? he wondered.
“Hannah looks wunderbaar,” Miriam said as she looked over at her. “Rebecca tells me she’s doing really well.”
He nodded, not schur where this was going.
She turned to him. “Life’s a risk. Love’s a risk. You can get through life without love. But do you want to?” She walked over to toss her paper cup in the trash. “Merry Christmas, Samuel.”
She walked away, leaving him to his thoughts.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Rebecca came home from the schul play feeling restless and edgy.
It had been so hard seeing Samuel and Lizzie there, especially when Lizzie performed and then came over wanting her to see the cookies she’d baked with her dat.
Her heart had stopped when she heard the kind’s bloodcurdling scream. She’d rushed over to see what was wrong, and for a hideous moment she’d thought Lizzie was seriously hurt. Thank God the red stain on her white angel robes was just Christmas punch.
Lizzie had been beside herself, embarrassed at the accident and upset that the robes had been ruined after her Aenti Hannah had gone to so much trouble sewing when she was caring for a new boppli. Rebecca had taken her into the schul bathroom, comforted her, and dried her tears. She’d helped her take off the robes and started them soaking in cold water in the sink. And then she’d quietly gone to ask Teacher Mary Liz if she had some emergency clothing. Of course she did. Kinner had accidents of one type or another all the time, and a dress had been found and put on Lizzie in no time.
Then Rebecca had had to take Lizzie by the hand and lead her back to her dat and say gut nacht and walk away.
She’d driven home, unhitched the buggy, and put Daisy in her stall and come inside. And now she didn’t know what to do with all these feelings welling up inside her.
She climbed the stairs, took off her dress, and hung it in the closet. But when she opened her dresser drawer, she reached for an old dress she used for chores and went back downstairs. She got out a mop bucket and scrubbed the floors, polished the living room furniture, and cleaned the downstairs bathroom.
Then she went to the closet where she’d hidden Christmas presents. She took the shirt she’d sewn for Samuel and the basket of cleaning supplies and went upstairs. The door to the nursery was always kept closed. Tonight she opened it and walked inside. There was a thin layer of dust along the windowsills and on the hope chest at the foot of the bed in the room. She cleaned the sills and then knelt to wipe the top of the chest.
And then her fingers moved without her willing them and opened it. The scent of cedar rose up. She picked up the knitted layette she’d made and then tucked away. Pale green, not blue for a sohn or pink for a dochder. There was a small quilt that had been given to her by Amos’s mudder. It was worn from use but oh so precious. She ran her fingers over the tiny stitches a
nd frayed corners and then folded it and placed it in the chest again.
With a sigh, she set Samuel’s present inside. She couldn’t give it to him now. She’d save it and one day maybe there would be a man she could give it to. She closed the chest. The tears came then, and she put her head down and cried herself out.
Worn out from exertion and emotion, she felt hollow inside. Going downstairs, she stowed the basket of cleaning supplies, then sat down at the kitchen table with a cup of chamomile tea and stared out the kitchen window. Snow began to fall in big swirling flakes. It was so quiet tonight. Stille Nacht, she thought, remembering the hymn that had been sung so poignantly earlier today.
“I don’t know what’s happening, God,” she said. “What your plan is. I’m so confused.” She touched the pot of poinsettias Samuel and Lizzie had brought her one day. If she’d had daisies, she’d have pulled off the petals one by one, she thought. He loves me; he loves me not.
I thought Samuel was the one You set aside for me after Amos died. And now I guess he isn’t. But why did You bring him here and have me fall in love with him, have him ask me to marry him, and then have him take it back?
When she heard no answer to her question, she rose, put her cup in the sink, and climbed the stairs to her bedroom. She fell into bed like a stone and slept almost immediately.
She walked through the snowdrifts on the road without a coat but she didn’t feel cold. Snow came down thick and white and she couldn’t see a foot ahead of her, but she wasn’t frightened. She could hear Samuel’s voice in the distance. Her heart lifted. All would be well when she found him.
Something stirred in her arms. She looked down and saw that she carried a blanket-wrapped bundle. Lifting a corner of the blanket, she smiled at the boppli. Mine, she breathed joyfully. Mine and Samuel’s, and Lizzie’s, too, for she wants a boppli as much as a mudder.
The air turned cool suddenly and she covered the boppli’s face and hurried on. “Samuel! Samuel, where are you?”
But she didn’t hear him answer so she walked faster and faster, calling his name more urgently as she struggled to see through the whiteness surrounding her. And then the whiteness parted and she could see the road clearly. There was Samuel’s farm just a few feet away.
The Amish Midwife's Hope Page 23