There were eleven poetry recitations, five short skits, and two readings in all, and everything culminated in the students singing “O Come, All Ye Faithful” as a rousing end to a wonderful-good afternoon. After that, there was a half hour of audience singing—one of Rose’s favorite parts. She joined her voice in unison with the others as they heartily sang the familiar carols, beginning with “It Came Upon a Midnight Clear.”
By the time the play was finished, the children were eager to give their presents to the teacher—apples and oranges, links of sausage, jams and jellies, embroidered hankies, quilted potholders, and even a couple of hams. Each of the children in turn received wrapped candies and two new pencils and a pen from the teacher.
The members of the audience were remembered, as well, with candy canes. Rose noticed Mattie Sue removing the wrapping from hers, all smiles. Dear little girl, Rose thought, hoping her Christmas might be truly happy in every way. She wondered how things were going for her sister and brother-in-law, since Brandon was clearly reliant upon Hen to get around.
When will his sight return? And what then?
Sometime later, during the merry mingling which followed the conclusion of the program, Rose noticed Silas present for the first time. Just as she presumed, he’d come, though he wasn’t standing with his family, but rather was wedged into the far corner.
At first, Rose thought he was alone, but the young woman standing near him turned slightly—Rebekah. The two of them appeared deep in conversation, though Silas was definitely doing most of the talking. He was laughing now, and Rebekah beamed in evident delight as she shifted, allowing Rose a better view. Rebekah was a very attentive listener, her eyes focused on Silas as he leaned forward, face alight as they talked. Had he ever looked at Rose with such tender affection?
Then, as if Rose’s steady stare had sent out a signal to him, Silas turned and caught her eye, his face reddening. Suddenly, Rose’s face felt too warm as an uncomfortable moment passed between them . . . and lingered. Yet, in that awkward moment, the truth was laid bare: Silas’s heart plainly yearned for Rebekah.
All during the sleigh ride home, Rose considered the undeniable affection she’d witnessed between them. She recalled the other times she’d inadvertently observed their fondness for each other. The shared looks, the furtive smiles—it was as if they were magnets, unable to stay too far apart. Even Rebekah’s returning to Lancaster County confirmed that.
The sky was windswept and blustery, and Rose shivered in the straw as the muted clip-clops of horses’ hooves padded against the snow. She slipped her arm around Mattie Sue, who was sandwiched cozily between Rose and Hen. Mattie’s hands were burrowed deep into her fluffy white muff, and she kept her head down against the cold.
Manes flying, the horses pulled the sleigh around the bend and into the driveway. Rose filled her lungs with the frosty air and sent a silent prayer for wisdom heavenward.
And then, amidst the sparkling snow and crisp air, she knew just what to do.
After all, it’s Christmas, she thought.
Christmas morning, Mattie Sue woke up early and crawled into Hen’s bed to snuggle. She whispered that she’d made a present for Daddy. “But don’t tell, okay?”
Hen sleepily agreed.
“He doesn’t think Santa Claus comes here . . . but that’s all right.”
Hen gave Mattie a peck on the forehead.
“It’s more fun to give presents, anyway,” Mattie Sue announced. “I like watchin’ people when they open them.”
“That’s so true, honey. It’s better to give than to receive.” Hen kissed Mattie’s forehead and hoped Brandon’s eyes might somehow be opened to the wonder of Christmas this year.
Her husband was still sleeping when Hen made her way down the steps to start cooking breakfast. She made a few notes on her small tablet near the sink as she thought ahead to the big turkey dinner scheduled for just before noon. Three of her married brothers—Josh, Enos, and Mose—were coming with their families. Her four remaining brothers had plans to have Christmas dinner with their in-laws. Often such holiday celebrations extended well into February, given the many siblings and combinations of in-laws and other relatives eager to see them and share a feast.
Hen looked forward to Brandon’s finally meeting all her brothers, yet she knew she ought to go easy with him on any social expectations. The pain in his ribs and broken arm, as well as his continuing headaches, made him uncomfortable and touchy, even with pain medication. He’d come here, after all, to rest and be cared for. Hen had seen to it last evening after she and Mattie had returned from the school to have a quiet supper alone as a family. Brandon had seemed somewhat subdued, though he had appeared to make an effort to be pleasant. Even so, she sensed he was already weary of his predicament.
She tried to put herself in his shoes, hampered by sudden blindness and, as time passed, wondering if today would be the day his sight might return . . . or if seeing again was even possible.
When Brandon came slowly down the stairs in his bathrobe and slippers, he ran his hand along the wall to find his way into the kitchen, then reached out to locate the counter, where he came to stand near her. “Merry Christmas, Hen,” he said. “I didn’t have time to get you or Mattie Sue anything.” He blinked and rubbed his stubbled chin. If her husband went much longer without shaving, his face would soon blend in with Hen’s father’s and brothers’ . . . and their beloved bishop’s.
“Oh, don’t worry,” she said, guiding him. “After all, the best gift is being together.” When Hen smiled up at him, she wished with all of her heart that Brandon could see the smile meant just for him.
Sol was thankful Hen, Rose Ann, and their brothers had swiftly prepared the large kitchen to accommodate the extra family members now seated around the extended table. Red and green Christmas decorations, brought along by their school-age grandchildren as surprises for Sol and Emma, adorned the windows. Sol was especially pleased his wife had made an effort to be present, as well, sitting in her wheelchair to his right at the head of the table.
While the womenfolk scurried about to get all the hot dishes on the table, he looked down the row on the right side and noticed Hen’s husband perched stiffly there on the long wooden bench, his cast situated between his chest and the table’s edge. Mattie Sue leaned her head against Brandon’s good arm, stroking his hand, and Sol struggled to keep his emotions in check.
Once the stuffed turkey and gravy, mashed potatoes, corn, homemade noodles, lima beans, and chowchow were set before them, Sol waited till everyone was seated with folded hands. Then he said a warm “willkumm” to Hen’s husband. His elder daughter’s face shone with both joy and perspiration from working over the hot cookstove. “Most of all this Christmas, we are grateful to God for sparing Brandon’s life,” he said.
Everyone at the table nodded and said “jah” in agreement, and Brandon offered a somewhat self-conscious nod in return.
Then, bowing his head, Sol prayed the silent Sege—blessing—for these gracious provisions from the Father’s own hand. He made the customary sound in his throat and raised his head, reaching for his water glass. He looked toward dear Emma and asked her what she’d like to eat. When she indicated she wasn’t very hungry, he coaxed her to at least have a small slice of turkey and some potatoes, which she accepted.
The tinkle of Emma’s fine glassware and best china was soon accompanied by the pleasant hum of family chatter. Josh and Enos, the more talkative of his sons present, tried to strike up a conversation with Brandon as they sat across from him. Even Hen attempted to draw out her husband, but the man was silent, clearly wounded inside and out.
Solomon ate his fill, ever mindful of his family and precious wife. Halfway through the meal, he leaned toward her. “Just say when you’re ready to lie down again, dear. I’ll help ya back into bed.”
After all the serving dishes had been passed, Mattie Sue slipped out of her spot on the bench and came over to ask Emma if she wanted any food from t
he far end of the table. Sol’s heart was warmed by Hen’s little girl. He thanked the Lord for each grandchild there at the table today, as well as those celebrating Christ’s birth with other family members nearby.
Keep them ever in your loving care, O Father.
Hen and Brandon excused themselves to return next door, and Mattie Sue asked politely if she might stay and play with her close-in-age cousins. Hen agreed, pleased to see her daughter so anxious to be well mannered. She’s come such a long way.
At the little Dawdi Haus, Hen stayed with her husband to help him up the stairs to rest. He said his head was throbbing and had been all during the dessert offerings of fruit pies, carrot cake, and chocolate chip cookies. “I thought dessert would never end,” he concluded.
“My family does love sweets,” she agreed, letting him lean on her arm as he moved toward his bed.
Hen fetched Brandon an extra quilt in case he was chilled. She suspected Dad was assisting Mom to a nap about now, as well. Brandon sat on the bed in the spare room, looking forlorn. A single tear rolled down his cheek and he brushed it away, turning toward the wall.
“Brandon, hon . . . it’s all right. You’ve been through the wringer. Of course you’re feeling lousy.”
“I don’t want sympathy.” His voice was soft, not accusing.
She stepped back, away from the bed. “Okay, then, I’ll leave you be.”
Brandon leaned back slowly, cautious of his fractured ribs and arm. “If only I could see, I think I could manage the rest of this nightmare.” He groaned as he lowered his head onto the pillow. “I really need to return to work in a couple of days.”
In due time, Hen thought, trusting God for Brandon’s healing. Oh, she truly wished she could do something more to ease his pain, but she’d already given him the prescribed dose of pain medication for now. The doctor had warned him not to take more so as to prevent his becoming addicted to the very thing that could bring him momentary comfort.
Hen returned to the main house to help with clearing the table and doing up the mountains of dishes, thankful for some time with her sisters-in-law and Rose Ann. They talked together in the front room as the children played games, and then joined in singing a few carols.
Later, Hen slipped in to see her mother, who was lying on her daybed, looking at the ceiling. Hen went over and kissed her on the cheek. “A blessed Christmas to you, Mom,” she whispered. “Not long now until you see the specialist.”
Mom’s eyes sparkled. “I’m holdin’ on as best I can.”
“Is there anything I can do for you before I return to Brandon?”
“No, dear girl.” Mom shook her head slowly. “You just take care of that husband of yours. First things first, jah?”
Hen patted her hand. “I’ll see you this evening at suppertime.” Then Hen had an idea. “There are oodles of leftovers from dinner. Would you like to invite the Brownings over for supper tonight?”
“Oh, could we?” Mom’s eyebrows rose. “That’d be awful nice.”
Hen realized once more how much Beth’s compassionate attention had endeared her to Mom. “I’ll see what Rose or I can do.” With that, Hen pulled up the soft crocheted afghan to cover her. “Try to rest now.”
Nodding, Mom closed her eyes, a contented look on her sweet face.
I’ll ask Mose to stop by Brownings’, she thought. Mose didn’t like to sit in one place for very long and was probably already itching to be outside again. Hen went to find him, feeling excited about trying to make the heartfelt wish come true for her mother on this most joyful of days.
Chapter 36
After Brandon’s rest, Hen and Mattie Sue brought out all
the beautiful squares for the bed quilt Hen was in the process of making for Mattie. They sat together in the little front room, describing the design, as well as the colors for the Double Nine Patch quilt design. With his fingers, Brandon examined the difference between the interior and outline stitches.
When the squares were neatly put away again, Mattie Sue had the idea to let her daddy smell the various berry jams Hen had canned. “Can ya guess what flavor this is?” Mattie Sue said as she sat on his lap, holding one small spoonful after another up to his nose.
Hen thought Brandon’s expression seemed softer . . . but then, it was Christmas Day. She hoped he wasn’t merely tolerating Mattie’s and her attempts to entertain him and make him feel like a part of their lives.
Soon Mattie gave him the paper chain she’d made, placing it in his left hand. He seemed pleased as he felt each one of the loops. He kissed Mattie’s cheek and thanked her, promising to buy a belated Christmas present for her after he felt better, then donned the chain around his neck as a sort of paper scarf. Mattie Sue giggled and offered to take him outside to help feed the baby goats.
Brandon shook his head. “I’ve had enough for one day,” he said somewhat brusquely, more to Hen than to Mattie Sue. “Don’t feel bad, Mattie Sue, all right?” His tone was kind again as he spoke to her. “I just need to sit here and rest.”
“Okay, Daddy. Maybe tomorrow, then?” Mattie Sue went to the stool beneath the wooden pegs and got down her coat, scarf, and black outer bonnet.
After Mattie had gone outdoors to tag along with Dawdi in the barn, Hen told Brandon she was scheduled to work at the fabric shop tomorrow. “But I’ll be glad to take the day off to stay with you,” she offered.
“Tomorrow?” He looked helpless suddenly . . . even disappointed.
“I can call in first thing in the morning from the phone shanty to let Rachel know I’m not coming. She’d understand.”
“Would you, Hen?” he asked, relief flooding his voice.
“I certainly will.” Rather taken aback, Hen realized again how dependent Brandon was on her while he waited for his sight to be restored. Her husband had put his life on hold, and at least temporarily, he could not look farther ahead than a single day. The thought that Brandon needed her gave her hope.
Rose was thoroughly delighted when Beth and her father arrived at suppertime. All smiles, Beth sat beside Mamm during the meal consisting mostly of leftovers, though Beth and her father had brought along some fudge prettily wrapped in green cellophane to share. Beth made a point of saying that her father had helped her make it as a Christmas surprise for their neighbors and friends. “Especially for you, Mrs. Kauffman,” Beth said, turning toward her.
While they ate, Rose wondered whether the Brownings might soon pull up stakes to move to South Carolina to be near Mr. Browning’s widowed mother, as Beth had feared. But Mr. Browning spoke very little, though he seemed to enjoy their company—perhaps he’d chosen not to speak of it on such a happy day.
Meanwhile, Beth told Mamm she was counting the hours until her aunt Judith arrived, “sometime in January.” Mamm reached over and stroked the back of Beth’s head, smiling and nodding and treating her like one of her own daughters.
The evening ended on a blissful note when a group of Amish couples knocked on the back door and sang “Silent Night,” which moved Mamm to tears as she sat in her wheelchair near the woodstove.
As the voices rang out into the cold, moonlit night, Rose thought how much fun it would’ve been to carol around the neighborhood with this group . . . and her betrothed.
If Rebekah hadn’t come to town and spoiled everything, she thought. Nonetheless, Rose knew the truth was more complicated than that. She and Silas had grown apart because each of their hearts was drawn to another.
After dark, Rose was very surprised when she saw Silas’s courting buggy pull partway into the driveway. She had been redding up the kitchen after yet another round of desserts with her parents, who had already retired to their room.
Not knowing what to think, she wrapped up in her warmest shawl and went outside to meet him. “Hullo, Silas.”
“Merry Christmas,” he said with a quick nod. In his hands was a large green box with a silver bow, which he offered to her. “I didn’t want you to think I’d forgotten to get you someth
ing, Rose Ann,” he said almost shyly.
“Oh, Silas . . . it’s nice of you.” She realized how cold it was and invited him inside. “You can warm up by the kitchen stove,” she said. “No one’s up just now.”
He agreed and followed her inside as she carried his gift, wondering what it could be. Then she remembered what she’d planned to do. Waiting till they’d pulled chairs up next to the cookstove, she turned to him. “I appreciate your present, Silas, but there’s something I’d like to say.”
A frown passed over his brow.
“I’ve been thinkin’ quite a lot lately,” she began. “About us—our engagement, I mean.”
He reached for her hand. “Rose Ann . . . what’re ya saying? Is it about what you said last time—about us maybe spending some time apart?”
“Jah, ’tis.” She paused, gathering strength. “I’ve seen how you look at Rebekah, Silas. And honestly, I believe you care more for her than you prob’ly realize.”
In the flickering light from the belly of the cookstove, he looked down at their entwined hands. A second or two passed before he spoke. “Rebekah’s coming was unexpected.” He looked at her, his gaze steady. “Truth is, I didn’t realize till lately that I still care for her.” He shifted a little in his seat. “But I don’t want to hurt you, Rose Ann. I’d never want to do that.”
She nodded; she’d anticipated that he’d be the dutiful beau. “That’s awful nice of you, Silas. But . . . really, it’s not reasonable for you to be engaged to me when Rebekah is the girl you truly love.”
He squeezed her hand, then released it. “You needn’t be so kind about this, Rose.” His voice was thick with emotion.
“Kindness has nothin’ to do with it.” Her heart hammered in her ears—never had she imagined speaking so freely to Silas about such things.
The Judgment Page 24