A Christmas Haven

by Cindy Woodsmall

  Maybe he should put his foot down and insist that he and Magda leave. But he’d given his word that he would stay to help, and he wanted some time around this Red person. Red was in his home interacting with the women while being open and vulnerable.

  Wasn’t this how families were meant to be with each other?

  For years his gut had said that men weren’t supposed to shove all emotion out of sight, come up with a plan, and demand everyone fall in line behind them.

  Is this what the Word meant by “abundant life”? To experience the fullness of the heart, mind, and emotions? To give room to all of it in one’s own self and in others without trying to suppress or control it?

  A desire to write overtook Arlan. He couldn’t talk about this, not like the Zooks were doing, but he could write about it until he felt clearheaded and calmer.

  What was happening in this room is what he wanted—to embrace life with honesty and vulnerability.

  Twelve

  Ivy poured steaming, fragrant coffee into ceramic mugs that were sitting on a serving tray. Mamm’s fresh-out-of-the-oven sourdough coffee cake smelled even better. Bishop Benuel and his wife, Cheryl, were at the old but sturdy wooden table, along with her Mamm, Holly, Red, Arlan, and Magda. Their conversation was lively with laughter interspersed.

  Magda stood and joined Ivy at the kitchen counter. “No coffee for me, denki, Ivy. What can I help with?”

  Ivy looked across the spacious kitchen. “You could cut the coffee cake, put it on the little plates, and pass it out. The plates are sitting next to the dessert.”

  “Sure.” Magda removed a knife and serving spatula from their drawers. She was so sweet and such a hard worker. It seemed unfair that she and Arlan had needed to run from their own family.

  Ivy picked up the tray of coffees, walked to the large table, and started passing them out. The usual nice cross breeze from the open windows was refreshing, and the overcast sky helped the kitchen and dining room to be not so hot, even in late July. Her great-grandfather must’ve known how to position the house and windows when he built the place so many years ago.

  Cheryl patted Holly’s hand. “How are things progressing with Joshua’s instruction and plans for your upcoming wedding?”

  Every person had to go through instruction to join the faith and marry. Most were like Joshua and waited until the summer before they married, but Holly had gone through hers years ago.

  Holly fiddled with the cloth napkin in front of her. “Well, he’s still going through instruction, but…”

  Ivy placed a mug of coffee in front of her sister. She and Holly had talked about this for hours two weeks ago, just like their Saturday nights of old. When Holly asked Ivy if something was bothering her of late, it’d been all Ivy could do to hold her tongue. She wanted to tell her sister everything, but Holly had enough on her.

  Benuel sipped his black coffee. “You sound as if you’re concerned about something.”

  Holly sighed. “Bishop Stephan has a great heart, according to all I’ve heard about him, but he’s very old-fashioned. Josh and I are going about our days as if we’re going to have our wedding this December, but right now the bishop hasn’t decided if we can marry. You can probably guess why not. He doesn’t want to even discuss our wedding plans until October.”

  Their bishop nodded. “I know your career path isn’t conventional, but I’ve seen the benefits of it throughout your years of working for Lyle. I know Stephan well. He’s a fair-minded person. I’d suggest having a meal, and let’s all gather and talk about it. Maybe Stephan and I can have a conversation before the meal and that’ll help soften his heart. Still, the fact that he’s allowing Joshua to continue instruction speaks of good will.”

  “Denki.” Holly seemed to be speaking both to Benuel and to Magda, who’d just placed a piece of coffee cake in front of her, the bishop, and his wife. “I hope so.”

  Ivy placed mugs in front of her brother and Arlan and then put the last mug at the empty spot where she’d sit in a moment.

  Benuel scooped up a corner of his coffee cake with his fork. “I remember when you went through instruction at seventeen, Holly. Was that really eight years ago?”

  Holly had joined the faith at a young age to show their bishop that her heart was all in even though she desired to get her GED and her licensed practical nurse degree. It’d taken time for Benuel to come around and see the benefits of an Amish woman working in a pharmacy and getting enough education that she could legally give advice and discuss medication with their people.

  Mamm stirred some sugar into her coffee. “Ya, eight years. And it’s been almost eleven since my Ezra died, if you can believe it.” Mamm looked directly at Ivy, and their eyes met. Her Mamm didn’t need to speak the question aloud. Are you really going to leave?

  Ivy had been only fifteen when she watched Holly join the church. Holly was so committed to bringing medicine to the area’s Amish communities that she was willing to submit to the full rules of the Ordnung while still a teen.

  Benuel turned to Red. “I’m sorry Cheryl and I haven’t had a chance to drop by sooner. We’re glad to have you back home, Red.”

  Red stretched his arms back and laced his fingers together behind his head. “It feels good to be home. Did Mamm tell you we’re going to build up the dairy herd again?”

  Ugh. This again. Ivy stabbed her coffee cake a little too hard, making the fork clink loudly against the plate.

  If the bishop noticed, he didn’t show it. “She mentioned you and Arlan have a plan.”

  Red clapped Arlan on the shoulder. “I’ve known this man for only two weeks, but I can tell you he has the right skills when it comes to cows and dairy farming. Our own little herd is noticeably making more milk, and he’s been on the farm only for…How long again?”

  Arlan’s eyes moved to Ivy’s and lingered for a moment before he returned his attention to the bishop. “Almost six weeks.” He knew how she felt about adding more cows. Why was he doing this?

  “Right.” Red used his fork to pick up the remaining crumbs of his cake. “And since he’s staying until December, think of all the progress we can make. We’re getting some cows to replace the ones we gave up, supposedly on loan, after Daed died, and we also intend to acquire some less-than-ideal cows for cheap that Arlan can get into good milking shape.”

  Would they have more cows than they’d had before Daed died? No, no, no, this was not the plan! Red wasn’t staying, not forever. What if he went back to Rocks Mill and married Emily after all? Or found a new girl in another district or state? And Arlan, sure as the sun, wasn’t staying. What would Ivy do when they left Mamm with an even bigger herd of cows to deal with?

  She couldn’t listen to this conversation and continue to hold her tongue, and with the bishop around it wasn’t the time for her to speak up. It seemed clear that Mamm hadn’t told Benuel anything about Ivy’s plans to leave, which made things easier on Ivy. She stood and started gathering the plates and mugs of those who had finished their snack.

  Arlan stood too. “Let me help you with the dishes.”

  Magda stood. “It’s my place, not—”

  Arlan barely lifted his hand in a “stay there” motion to his sister. “You’ve hardly touched your cake. You eat. I’ve got this, Magda.”

  Ivy wished they’d both remain at the table and let her fume in peace. “No, I’m fine. You don’t have to.”

  “I insist. Just because I grew up without running water in the sink, it doesn’t mean I don’t know how to wash some plates and cups.” He gathered a few of the dishes that were near him.

  The bishop and his wife chuckled, and Red went back to giving more details about the cows.

  Ivy walked into the kitchen with her hands full of dishes and plunked them on the counter next to the large double sink.

  Arlan came up behind her. “You’re mad. Wh
y?” His voice was low enough that no one in the dining room could hear him, especially with a separate conversation going on.

  “We’ve already had this conversation.”

  “But Red’s home now. That changes everything.”

  Ivy plugged the left side of the sink with the stopper and twisted the hot water knob hard to begin to fill it. “Red is no more staying permanently than you are.”

  “No, he said—”

  “He’s grieving over his breakup. Whatever he says his plans are during this time doesn’t count for a hill of beans.” She squirted a generous amount of liquid soap into the water. “I can’t…I won’t dedicate my entire life to milking cows. Or spend months helping Mamm get them all back to wherever you’re going to get them from. I have plans…” She trailed off. Should she bother sharing with someone who couldn’t understand?

  He placed the plates he was carrying in the soapy water. “What are your plans, Ivy? It’s clear they don’t involve farming.”

  “Nee, they don’t.” She picked up a sponge from the dish drainer. “I…I’ve started a party-planning business with my Englisch friend Tegan.”

  He looked at the sink and then the dirty dishes beside it, seeming unsure where to start on the task. “Is she the one I’ve seen pick you up and drop you off several times since I’ve been here?”

  Ivy moved the faucet to fill the other side of the sink with clean water for rinsing the dishes. “Ya. I’m planning to move into an apartment with her. It’s the only way I can do all I need to do to grow the party-planning business.” She plunged her hands into the soapy water, washed a plate, and then slid it into the rinse water. “There are clean dish towels in the drawer directly under the drying rack. I’ll wash. You dry and stack them on the counter.”

  He nodded and removed a worn towel from the drawer. He was standing an awkward distance from the sink as if he didn’t want to be too close to her.

  She stretched her arm and passed him the now-clean plate. “You’re not surprised that I want to plan parties for the Englisch?”

  He dried the dish and placed it on the counter. “No, you were plenty clear about your dislike of the Old Ways the first morning I was here.” He didn’t sound disappointed or judgmental.

  She looked out the open window above the sink. The sky had darkened, and it smelled as if it was about to rain.

  She passed him another clean plate. “I suppose if I told you my thoughts, it’s not like you could think worse of me.” And why did that bother her?

  He kept up with her pace, and the stack of dishes grew. “I don’t think bad of you, Ivy. You’re kind and hardworking. I just disagree with you about most things, it seems. But I wouldn’t take it personal if I were you, because of late I seem to disagree with myself about most things.”

  Her eyes met his, and his held a spark for life she hadn’t noticed before. She shuddered. “Conflicting thoughts and emotions—ugh.”

  He grinned. “Ya.” He pointed at her. “That’s the feeling, isn’t it?”

  She chuckled and nodded. “But everyone will disagree with me once they know my plan. Still, that doesn’t make me wrong any more than your people disagreeing with your actions makes you wrong.”

  “Maybe so.” He barely shrugged one shoulder.

  “Maybe?”

  “Kumm on, Ivy. We can’t compare my leaving home with Magda—who was very sick—to your longing to plan parties.”

  The desire to kick him out of the kitchen grew, and her face flushed hot. Did he have to be so calm and…and…right? She washed the remaining plates in quick succession and passed each toward him, not looking at his face as he took the dishes from her. There were only eight people eating coffee cake. Why were there many more plates than that to wash and lots of flatware?

  He stacked each plate with a gentle clink. “That aside, and regarding the cows, you might not think much of it, but this farm could have real value. Your brother and I like the idea of being able to make money while we’re here. And if your Mamm wanted to sell the farm one day, with our planned updates it might be more appealing to a buyer, especially to a hobby farmer who doesn’t intend for the farm to be the main source of income. At the least it couldn’t hurt for everything to be in good running order. Maybe the Troyers of Troyer Yogurt and Cheese would be interested in this place, or maybe another young man would be interested in living above the carriage house and working here with your Mamm if everything was in good shape to begin with.”

  “You’ve really thought this through, haven’t you?”

  “I have, and I’m pretty sure your Mamm shouldn’t have to sell her home in order to let you follow your dreams.”

  Was she pushing her Mamm to do something Mamm didn’t want to do? All this time Ivy had believed that the dairy farm was a burden Mamm couldn’t enjoy but was holding on to because of a weird sense of love and duty to Daed. Had her own selfishness caused her to ignore what Mamm really wanted?

  “I’ll be here with your family for a while. It’s five months until December, when Magda’s baby will be born. I don’t know Red’s long-term plans, but he’s not leaving anytime soon either. Let us work on the herd. I won’t leave you with a mess. I’m committed to stay and get the new herd and the old farm running smoothly. I’m not going to leave until you have hired help to replace me, I promise.”

  She stopped washing a coffee mug and studied him. Maybe she was too close to the situation and too busy trying to get Mamm situated so she could break free. Still, the situation with the cows had a good chance of landing in Ivy’s lap when all things were done. “Fair enough. But you’re still imposing a future on a home that you’re only visiting.” She rinsed the mug and passed it his way.

  He dried it and set it next to the plates. “Maybe I’m not seeing everything right, but are you sure you are? I can’t believe you’re willing to leave all this to plan parties. Aren’t you allowed enough freedom without needing to leave?”

  She should’ve known it’d come back to this. She took her wet hands out of the sink and dried them on her apron. “Look, you’ve had four silos full of rules on you your entire life, and now that you’re down to two, you think this is freedom.”

  He turned to look her in the eye. “Everything has rules, Ivy. But can anything else give you what exists right here among your people?”

  The simplicity of his words hit with force. He had a way of looking at things that left her speechless. She shrugged, hoping to finish this task in silence. Once done washing the flatware and mugs, Ivy dried her hands on the kitchen towel. “Denki for the help.”

  “You’re welcome.” He hung his towel on a peg. “Oh, I need to ask a favor.” He reached in his pocket. “Would you put this in the mail for me?” He handed a small white envelope to her. “Your Mamm gave me a stack of paper to write on when I arrived, but I don’t have a stamp.”

  “So this is the girl, right? Lorraine?”

  “Ya, that’s her.”

  Ivy waved the letter at him. “Well at least I know you won’t always be here, bringing in cows, stirring up trouble, and daily adding more manure to this farm and my life.”

  He laughed.

  She tucked the letter in her dress pocket. Their conversation had confused her. Even when they disagreed, it was nice talking to him, but his points made it even harder to leave her Mamm. At least the letter in her pocket was some assurance that he’d move on. And so would she.

  Thirteen

  With a wood-splitting maul in hand, Arlan set a small log on the stump, spotted a crack, and aimed for it with the maul. The wood split in two. He tossed the smaller piece on the growing woodpile and split the larger piece again.

  The afternoon breeze had plenty of summer heat, but the aroma it carried hinted that fall was coming. Throughout summer he always looked forward to the arrival of September, and today was that day. The heat hadn’t rel
ented, but the shadows were growing longer, and it was just a matter of weeks before refreshment arrived. The nights were already cooler.

  The letter in his pocket weighed on him, just as it had for a month. He leaned the splitting maul against a log and pulled out the letter. Lorraine’s perfect penmanship was easy to read, so the words were clear, but he read it again, hoping to see something he’d missed the first umpteen times. He’d become compulsive about skimming it every hour. Something was off, as if God was trying to tell him something beyond what could be seen on the page.

  Dearest Arlan, I’m disappointed in the position you’ve put me in. I either have to betray you or the church. Please rethink what you’re doing. Magda is young and unmarried, and her desires can’t dictate your decisions. You need to return to your community and do right by your parents before you ruin us. We’ve waited so long to be together, and it can happen now. You should be making plans to move here, not hiding your sister. I’ve told no one where you are, but I’m begging you to rethink this. As it stands, you’ve made me a part of your lies and deception too.

  He stared at the words, searching for answers. Her overreaction was his fault. He should’ve written a series of letters and eased into the part about Magda being pregnant.

  Maybe they could return home now. It was likely their parents were ready to accept Magda’s condition without insisting she do things their way. But for reasons Arlan was unsure of, he had no burning desire to try to set things right with his Daed or the bishop.

  Magda was thriving here. Arlan needed to write to Lorraine again and this time focus on easing her concerns, but how?

  “Hey.” Ivy’s voice startled him. She had a tray with a sandwich and lemonade.

  He closed the letter and put it in his pocket. “Hi.”

  “Mamm sent me, saying that you didn’t come in for lunch and that dinner is simply leftovers and sandwiches.”