Her Amish Christmas Choice

by Leigh Bale

“How so?”

  “Debbie wasn’t Amish. Neither was Dallin.”

  Julia placed her elbow on the table and leaned forward, feeling confused. “No, but they were both dishonest. So, is it just the Amish church you object to? Or Martin?”

  “Both, I’m afraid. They are one and the same. If you go with that young man, he’ll...he’ll...”

  “He’ll what, Mom? Why don’t you like him?”

  Mom pushed her bowl away, obviously having lost her appetite. “I don’t dislike him. But you’re too freethinking to be Amish. You have a mind of your own and shouldn’t have to suppress that. And honestly, I’m afraid he’ll corrupt your ideas. The Amish aren’t like normal people.”

  Julia laughed. “That’s a compliment, Mom. And what are normal people like? I’m not sure I’ve ever met one.”

  Mom frowned. “Amish men dominate their women. They rule their homes with an iron fist.”

  Julia was aghast. Her father had been such a kind, gentle man. She couldn’t imagine being married to a dominating brute. “How do you know what Amish men are like?”

  “I...I’ve heard things over the years. I knew some Amish women once, before you were born.”

  “You like Hank well enough. He comes upstairs and you feed him all the time,” Julia said.

  “He’s no threat to us. He’s just a boy with Down syndrome and he deserves a little kindness,” Mom said.

  “But you don’t seem to like Martin at all.”

  “He’s a fully grown man and he doesn’t have Down syndrome,” Mom said.

  Her justification seemed a bit off to Julia and she released a sigh. “I’m just going to church with him. It’s not as if I’m going to become Amish. It’s just this one time.”

  Her mother continued to gaze at her and Julia felt compelled to explain.

  “I asked him some questions about his faith and he’s the first person to give me straight answers that I liked. I don’t know why you disapprove so much.”

  “Because he’s Amish, dear. Amish. They don’t even use electricity,” Mom said.

  Julia snorted as she scooted her chair back from the table. “Well, neither do we.”

  She glanced at the freshly painted ceiling where a light fixture was attached. Because they had no power, the bulbs were dead and they were still using kerosene lamps to light their way.

  “That will change once we can pay to have an electrician repair our power problem. When do you think we’ll be able to afford that?” Mom asked.

  No longer feeling hungry, Julia set her bowl in the sink and filled it with hot soapy water. “It could be a little while. We’ll have to see how the grand opening goes. I want to ensure we have enough money to pay our bills first. Since we’ve lived without electricity even before we moved to Colorado, I thought we could wait a little longer and save some money.”

  “Yes, we can wait,” Mom conceded.

  “And I’m going to church tomorrow. It’s just one time and it’ll probably come to nothing. But I’d really like to go.”

  Mom released a deep sigh. “Suit yourself.”

  What else could Sharon say? Julia was a grown woman. But they didn’t speak while Julia washed and Mom dried the dishes. Julia could feel the tension in the air like a living, breathing thing. She hated having friction with her mother. Again, she thought about backing out and not going but had no idea how to get word to Martin so he wouldn’t drive all the way into town to pick her up early in the morning. Once he arrived, it wouldn’t be fair to tell him he’d come all this way for nothing. Right?

  “I’m tired and going to bed now. Remember that I love you more than anything else in the world.” Mom leaned close and kissed her cheek.

  “I know. I love you, too, Mom.” Julia spoke quietly, not knowing what else to say.

  She watched as Mom picked up a lamp and carried it to her bedroom. She limped slightly, indicating that her hips were hurting her. The apartment was small but warm and cozy and Julia felt safe and happy here. She didn’t want trouble with her mother.

  Surely this wasn’t worth arguing over. She’d go to church with Martin this one time and that would probably be the end of it. No more questions. No more curiosity about God. That would please her mother. Surely everything would return to normal. She hoped.

  * * *

  The following morning, it was still dark when Martin pulled his horse into the parking lot at Rose Soapworks. A single light gleamed from inside the store. Taking a deep inhale of crisp air, he stepped out of the buggy. As he walked toward the front door, he could see puffs of his breath and knew the first snowfall of the season would hit any day now.

  There was no need to knock. Julia must have been watching from inside because she stepped out onto the porch and met him at the bottom step.

  “Good morning, Martin,” she said softly, her eyes bright, her pale skin glowing in the shadows.

  “Guder mariye, Julia,” he returned.

  “Guder mariye,” she repeated with perfect pronunciation.

  He smiled as she laid a gloved hand on his arm and he accompanied her to the buggy. She wore a long, wool coat, her plain gray scarf tucked high around her neck. Though he could see her ankles and knew she must be wearing a dress, her low-heeled black shoes were quite simple by Englisch standards. She’d pulled her long hair back in a tidy bun at the nape of her neck and wore no makeup that he could see. For an Englisch woman, she dressed quite plain, but he knew his mother would not approve of the large gold buttons on her coat.

  As he helped her into the buggy, he was highly aware of the energy pulsing between them. “Is your mudder not coming with us?”

  Julia shook her head. “No, she’s not happy about me going either.”

  He glanced at the dark building. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to create conflict between you and your mudder. It’s important to honor your eldre in all things.”

  “Eldre?” she asked.

  “Your parents.”

  She repeated the word several times, as if trying it out on her tongue. “My mudder would rather I not go but she knows I’m a grown woman who can make her own choices.”

  He jerked, pleasantly surprised that she had used a Deitsch word in her vocabulary. But contention was not of Gott and honoring parents was highly important to all Amish people.

  “Where’s Hank?” she asked as she settled herself on the cold front seat.

  He reached for a quilt his familye kept in the back for traveling during the winter months. “He’s at home, helping set up for church.” Martin spread the quilt across her legs.

  “Danke,” she said, sliding her hands beneath the heavy fabric and pulling it up to her waist.

  Again, he was surprised. “You’re speaking Deitsch now?”

  She shrugged, a light smile teasing the corners of her lips. “It seems appropriate. Maybe you can teach me your language.”

  Ah, he liked that, but he couldn’t explain why. She was so different from most Englischers he’d met. So humble and eager to learn and try new things. “You don’t think your mudder would mind?”

  “Ne, I can handle my mudder,” she said.

  Again, he smiled, inordinately pleased by her efforts to speak his language. Taking the lead lines into his hands, he slapped them lightly against the horse’s back.

  “Schritt!” he called.

  The horse stepped forward.

  “I’ll bet Hank wasn’t happy to be left behind today,” Julia said.

  Martin smiled, remembering the temper tantrum his younger brother had thrown when he’d been told he couldn’t ride into town to pick up Julia. “Ne, he was not happy about it at all.”

  Neither would his mother be pleased when she found out that Sharon wasn’t accompanying them. The only reason his father had agreed to let Martin pick up Julia alone was because he thought they’d be chaperoned by her m
other. But there was no help for it now.

  “Is Hank your only sibling?” Julia asked.

  “Ne, I have three sisters and another brother. I am the eldest.”

  Her eyes widened and she stared at the road. “Wow! That’s six children! Your mother, er, mudder must have her hands full.”

  He chuckled at her comment. “Do you think that’s a lot?”

  “It sure is. Most people only want one or two kids these days. Or none at all.”

  “Not us. Children are precious to my people. The average Amish familye has six or seven kinder. We want all the gut Lord will send us. We believe kinder are a gift from Gott.”

  “That’s a nice way to look at it. But isn’t that a lot of extra mouths to feed?” she asked.

  He shrugged. “Ja, but they also make many hands to work on the farm. And as they marry, our familye expands and we have many people we can call on whenever we need help during times of trouble.”

  She smiled. “Many hands make light work, or so my mudder always says.”

  He nodded. “Exactly. I have a large familye I can depend upon. I’ll never be alone no matter what.”

  She was quiet for several moments, as if thinking this over. “It would have been nice when my vadder was ill to have familye members to depend on. But I was on my own. It’s been difficult being an only kinder.”

  “Kind,” he corrected. “Two children are kinder, but one child is kind.”

  She smiled at his explanation and doggedly repeated the words. “I always wanted a brother or sister, or both. My mudder just wasn’t able to have any more after I was born.”

  “If your parents wanted more, I’m sorry to hear they couldn’t.”

  “My mom told me she almost died giving birth to me.”

  Martin grunted in acknowledgement. “It happens that way sometimes.”

  “What is the word for brother and sister?” she asked.

  He gave her the words and waited as she repeated them several times.

  “Do you really want to learn Deitsch?” he asked.

  She hesitated. “Ja, I think I’d like that very much. It could be useful when the Amish come into my new store to do business.”

  He smiled, unable to contain his delight. “Then I’ll do my best to teach you.”

  They rode in silence for several minutes, enjoying the view of the sun peeking over the tops of the eastern mountains. Fingers of pink, gold and purple painted the valley below. A cluster of black-and-white cows stood grazing in a fallow field, the nubs of dried grass glistening with a layer of early morning frost.

  “It’s so beautiful here,” Julia said.

  Martin looked at her, seeing the peaceful contentment on her face. “Ja, it sure is.”

  “Why is marriage so important to your people?” she asked.

  He looked away, embarrassed to be caught staring. “Ach, because familye is so important to us. Without marriage, there is no familye and no kinder and our way of life would die. Do you...do you want children one day?”

  Oh, maybe he shouldn’t have asked that. It might sound too presumptuous.

  A soft smile curved her lips. “Ja, someday if I ever get married.”

  “Do you...do you want lots of kinder, or only one or two?”

  “I think I’d like more, but that’s a long way off.”

  He nodded, accepting this. After all, he could never be her husband so it really didn’t concern him.

  “I may never marry,” she said.

  He snorted. “Of course you will. Everyone weds. Don’t they?”

  After all, he still wasn’t married. But the thought that he might remain a bachelor all his life had never taken hold in his mind. He hadn’t found a suitable wife yet but he knew deep in his heart that he would one day. He’d always had faith that Gott hadn’t abandoned him. But lately, he wasn’t so sure.

  “Many people choose not to marry. Or they postpone marriage for a long time. They choose a career instead,” she said.

  He blinked, staring straight ahead at the black asphalt. “Why can’t they have both?”

  She shrugged. “I guess they could.”

  “I want a large familye. When I die, I doubt I’ll be concerned that I didn’t earn enough money. I’ll be concerned with how I treated my familye and whether I spent enough time with them. That is what really matters. Your familye is all you get to take with you in the end.”

  She looked down at her hands folded primly in her lap. He hoped he hadn’t said anything to upset her. After all, he was laying quite a bit of new information on her and it could be rather overwhelming.

  “I can’t imagine living my life alone either but sometimes we don’t get a choice in the matter.” She spoke so softly that he almost didn’t hear.

  Her words sounded so lonely, so hollow, that he felt a rush of empathy for her. And then he knew that neither of them wanted to be alone. Neither of them had chosen not to marry but the opportunity to marry someone who could make them happy had never come their way. Yet.

  For the first time in a very long time, Martin wondered if he might remain a solitary bachelor after all.

  Chapter Six

  The rhythmic clip-clop of the horse’s hooves on the pavement seemed so relaxing to Julia. Still, a feeling of anticipation buzzed through her. This was her first buggy ride and her first time attending an Amish church meeting. Everything about Martin seemed new and interesting. It had been a long time since she’d enjoyed a fun outing with friends. But this was so much more. Finally, she could explore the feelings she had for God. Her relationship with God had been pretty lean up to this point and she was hungry to learn more about the Lord.

  “Are you nervous?” Martin asked, giving a quick flick of the lead lines to keep the horse going at a steady pace.

  “A little,” she confessed.

  “Don’t be. Everything will be fine.”

  He then described what she should expect. How the church meeting would culminate with lunch afterward. Of course, she had a zillion questions but he answered every one. Their animated discussion brought her a sense of exhilaration. It tantalized her intellect and made her immensely happy. Martin’s calm voice sounded so reasonable. It made her feel as if she’d known him all her life. He demystified God and made her feel closer to her Heavenly Father.

  Though the day was crisp, the bright sun glimmered in the eastern sky. As they pulled into the yard of his family’s farm along Cherry Creek, Julia gazed at the wide pastures surrounding the two-story log house and enormous red barn.

  Martin pointed at several black-and-white cows standing in a pasture at the side of the barn. “Those are our milk cows.”

  Julia blinked, feeling as if she’d stepped back in time to a quaint, bygone era of wholesome living.

  Fields of hay lay fallow with brown stubble from the autumn harvest. The barbed wire fences were straight and orderly, the flower beds bordering the house cleared of frozen flowers and weed free. Not surprising. She’d already learned that Martin was hardworking and fastidious. No doubt his parents had taught him well.

  The place seemed deserted. No one was there to greet them.

  “Schtopp!” Martin called, pulling the buggy to a halt.

  They paused next to a long row of black buggies parked along the outer fence. A plethora of horses grazed peacefully in the pasture next to them.

  “You have so many horses,” she said.

  “They aren’t ours. Those are the road horses everyone uses to pull their buggies. I’ll put our horse in with them and then we can join the meeting,” Martin said.

  He hopped out and came around to assist her. The feel of his strong hand supporting her arm as she stepped down caused a warm sensation to cascade over her. She quickly straightened her skirt and patted her hair, hoping she looked all right.

  “You look fine,” he sa
id, as if reading her thoughts.

  She realized that was huge praise coming from this man. She’d already learned the Amish weren’t given to frivolous compliments and his words pleased her enormously.

  She caught the low thrum of voices lifting through the air in song. She turned toward the barn, a feeling of curiosity pulsing over her. The singing continued in long-drawn-out a capella unison. Male voices mingled with female in a solemn hymn that reminded Julia of a medieval movie she’d seen once. The sound was eerie yet beautiful.

  “They have started. We must hurry.” Martin spoke low.

  She caught his urgency as he quickly unhitched the horse from its harness. They must be late.

  “Komm.” He turned and beckoned gently to her.

  Julia followed as he hurried toward the barn. An older man with a full gray beard and no moustache stood at the entrance. He wore a black frock coat and felt hat. His dark, penetrating gaze shifted briefly to her and she felt his curiosity.

  Her sense of ease immediately shifted to absolute panic. What was she doing here? These people were strangers. Perhaps her mother had been right and she wouldn’t be welcomed. Oh, why had she come?

  “It’s all right.” As if sensing her unease, Martin spoke softly beside her. His soothing voice helped settle her nerves.

  “Julia, this is my vadder, David Hostetler.” Martin made the introduction in a low whisper that wouldn’t disturb the singing.

  “Hallo,” she greeted the man softly, holding out her hand. He took it and squeezed gently, his gray eyes crinkling with a warm smile.

  “Willkomm to our home,” he said. Then, he faced Martin. “Du bischt schpot!”

  Julia caught the mild tone of impatience in David’s voice but no anger.

  “Ja, I know we’re late. I’m sorry,” Martin whispered.

  “Where is her mudder?” David asked, peering behind them.

  “Mrs. Rose chose not to komm with us today,” Martin explained.

  With a brief nod, David lifted a hand to indicate they should enter the barn. A matronly woman stood just inside, as if waiting for them.

  “Julia, this is my mudder, Linda Hostetler.” Again Martin spoke low.