Her Amish Christmas Choice

by Leigh Bale

  Julia met the woman’s formal gaze. Her white prayer kapp stood out in sharp contrast to her simple black dress, tights and shoes. She wore a crisp, white apron over her dress that Julia found quite lovely.

  “Komm and join us,” Linda whispered, indicating that Julia should follow her.

  The spacious interior of the barn had been swept to an immaculate cleanliness. Looking up, Julia saw rows of hard backless benches lined up where numerous worshippers sat. As she passed, Julia felt the people’s eyes on her. A few smiled but some frowned. Whether they disapproved because they were late for the meeting or because she was Englisch, Julia wasn’t sure.

  Rather than sitting with their families, the assembly was seated by gender and age with all the men and boys on one side of the room and all the women and girls on the other. Martin had already explained that this segregation had nothing to do with discrimination but rather symbolized accountability to the authority of the church.

  Linda perched on a front bench, indicating that Julia should join her. Julia did so, clasping her hands tightly in her lap. Martin joined his father opposite her. Sitting next to his father, Hank made a sound of exuberance and lifted a hand to wave hello. Martin’s father scowled and shook his head and the boy settled down.

  David and Martin immediately joined in the song but Julia didn’t know the words. Linda handed her a hymnal titled Ausbund but it didn’t help much since the words were in German. Their voices united in a laborious tempo without musical accompaniment.

  Glancing about, Julia noticed many gazes resting on her. Some looks were open and curious but others were downright hostile. When she met their eyes, people looked away, as though embarrassed to be caught gawking. Julia felt suddenly awkward. Even though she wore modest clothes and her long hair was tied back in a bun, the brightly flowered print of her skirt seemed garish and out of place in comparison to the sedate solid colors and prayer kapps of the Amish women.

  Remembering Martin’s request from the day before, she was determined to keep an open mind and try to feel with her heart. She glanced his way, feeling rather anxious. And that’s when he did something that immediately put her at ease.

  He smiled and winked.

  “Ahem!”

  Martin’s father cleared his throat and Julia looked away, reminding herself to be reverent. This was church, after all. A place to worship God. She hummed along with the song. The slow tempo made it easy enough to follow. It went on and on but seemed rather sweet and she found that she enjoyed the worshipful feeling in the room. For this period of time, she pushed aside all her worldly cares and relaxed, focusing on God.

  Hearing her humming, Linda tilted her head slightly and smiled with approval.

  Finally, the singing ended and the preaching began. The words were spoken in Deitsch and Julia understood nothing at all. But as she gazed at the minister’s intense expression and heard the loving emotion vibrating in his voice, a feeling of peace settled over Julia and she felt the devout message deep in her heart. She was certain Martin would explain the topic on their way home.

  The moment church ended, Julia was surrounded by people.

  “Julia!”

  She whirled around and found herself engulfed in a solid hug by Hank.

  “Oof!” She tried to disengage herself. “Hallo, Hank.”

  “Wie bischt du?” the boy greeted her rather loudly.

  “Hank, that’s enough. Remember your manners.” Martin tugged his brother’s arms free from Julia.

  “But Julia’s my girl,” the boy exclaimed, drawing a number of surprised gasps.

  “That’s nonsense.” Linda’s eyes widened with disapproval.

  Martin snorted. “She’s just your friend. Remember? But you must not hug her. It isn’t proper.”

  Linda breathed a sigh of relief and nodded at her son.

  “But I want...” Hank began.

  Martin turned away, ignoring the boy. He quickly introduced Julia to Bishop Amos Yoder, Deacon Darrin Albrecht and Minister Jeremiah Beiler, their only minister. The three men gazed at her with cautious smiles that didn’t quite meet their eyes. She sensed their hesitation.

  “Your mudder did not komm with you today?” Bishop Yoder asked politely.

  Julia blinked, surprised that he’d known her mom might be here. She shook her head. “I’m sorry, but she isn’t feeling well and chose to stay at home.”

  “Martin has told us she has lupus. I hope it isn’t serious,” the bishop said.

  She didn’t explain that lupus was very serious. “She’ll be fine after she rests awhile.”

  “Perhaps she’ll komm with you next time,” Linda suggested.

  “You must tell her that she is willkomm to join us anytime.” The bishop lifted his bushy eyebrows in expectation, his bearded face showing nothing but friendship. And in that moment, Julia saw nothing to fear in his kind, intelligent eyes. She decided then that she liked Martin’s parents and the church elders.

  “Ja, perhaps,” Julia said.

  “I noticed you are speaking some Deitsch.” David’s voice was filled with approval.

  Julia shrugged, feeling a bit shy. “A little bit but I fear I mispronounce most of the words.”

  “Already, she is learning quite fast,” Martin said.

  “I’m gonna help teach her, too,” Hank blurted, looking mightily pleased with himself.

  “Ach, that is gut. Soon, you will be able to understand what is being said during the preachings,” Jeremiah Beiler exclaimed.

  “Ja, that is very gut.” Linda smiled, too, her expression one of relief.

  They all beamed at her and Julia thought it must be because they thought she was serious about becoming Amish. The fact that Martin was unmarried and had brought her here today must worry them. She was Englisch, after all. A woman of the world. No doubt they preferred her to learn Deitsch and join their Amish community rather than pull Martin out of his faith.

  But the fact was, she and Martin were just friends. She was here as a one-time guest and had no intention of joining the Amish faith. Especially since her mother didn’t approve.

  Linda glanced at the door and lifted both her hands in the air. “Ach, I’m the hostess today and here I stand around visiting. I should be in the kitchen helping with the meal. Would you like to join me?”

  Julia met the woman’s gaze, eager for the distraction. “Of course. I’d love to.”

  As they turned and headed toward the house, Julia changed her mind when Martin didn’t move from his place beside his father. She realized he wasn’t coming. Perhaps meals were considered a woman’s chore and he was expected to remain with the men. Because she wanted to be polite, she followed Linda.

  They crossed the green lawn and Julia noticed numerous long tables set up in the backyard. Sitting beneath the branches of a tall elm tree, a rather elderly lady spoke in a loud whisper that wasn’t really a whisper at all and carried clear across the yard.

  “If you ask me, Martin has become so desperate for a wife that he’s now looking at the Englisch girls,” the elderly woman said. “You mark my words. Martin will be pulled out of our faith if something isn’t done to stop it.”

  “Marva, what are you saying?” a middle-aged woman asked with incredulous wonder.

  “Just that we might lose him,” Marva said, lifting her head in an imperious gesture.

  Linda came to a halt, staring at the two women as her face contorted with fear and disapproval.

  Seeing Linda’s expression, the middle-aged woman hurried to alleviate the situation. “Ach, Martin would never abandon his faith. He’s steadfast. That’s why he brought the girl here. Surely she’ll convert.”

  “And what if she doesn’t?” Marva asked, her lips pursed like a prune. Looking straight at Linda, she seemed to challenge her, not caring at all that Julia was listening to their words.

&nb
sp; “Idle gossip is an unworthy endeavor,” Linda said before turning toward the house.

  Marva released a pensive “harrumph.”

  Julia followed after Linda but heard Marva’s parting comment.

  “The girl seems vaguely familiar to me, though I can’t remember how. I feel as if I know her from somewhere,” Marva said.

  “You probably saw her in town once,” the younger woman said.

  “Ne, I don’t think so. I feel certain that I know her from my life back in Ohio, though I don’t see how since she’s so young and it’s been many years since I lived there.”

  Julia slipped inside behind Linda. As the screen door clapped closed behind her, she breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe she didn’t belong here after all.

  Linda paused in the laundry room, resting a hand against her heart, taking deep inhales.

  “Are you all right?” Julia asked.

  “Ja, I’m sorry you had to hear that. Please ignore what they said. Marva Geingerich is a Swartzentruber and doesn’t approve of anyone,” Linda explained.

  “A Swartzentruber?”

  “Ja, the Swartzentrubers are Old Order Amish and shun any and all change. Marva just turned eighty-nine and thinks she knows everything. I don’t happen to share her opinions. Now, komm and slice some bread.”

  Through the open doorway into the kitchen, Julia saw numerous women milling around the counters in organized chaos as they prepared the noon meal. The buzz of their voices mingled together in happy banter. Their dresses were identical with a myriad of solid dark colors, white aprons and kapps. She watched in fascination, stunned by the enormous amount of food they had placed on a trestle table.

  Without another word, Linda hurried over to the table and handed Julia a loaf of homemade bread and a knife. The women greeted them.

  As they worked, Linda made introductions. Naomi Fisher, who looked to be about sixty-five years of age. Lori Geingerich and her four-year-old daughter, Rachel. Lizzie Stoltzfus and Abby Fisher, who were both newlyweds and appeared to be about Julia’s age. Sarah Yoder, the bishop’s wife. And several other older women. They were all friendly and smiled in welcome.

  “I’ll try to remember all your names.” Julia gave a little laugh as she slid the sharp knife through the loaf of bread.

  “Don’t worry. You’ll soon know all of us quite well and we’ll be gut friends.” Abby spoke in a buoyant voice.

  Lizzie looked up from where she was slicing red apples beside the sink. “Martin tells us that you’re opening a soap studio in town.”

  Everyone turned to look at her and Julia’s guard went up like a kite flying high.

  “Ja, that is why I want to learn Deitsch. So I can speak with all of you when you come in to my new store,” Julia replied.

  There. That was good, wasn’t it? An open invitation to visit and be friends.

  Sarah Yoder laughed out loud. Not a sarcastic laugh but simply one of good humor. “That’s nice, but I’m afraid we all make our own soap. We really don’t have a reason to buy it elsewhere. In fact, Lizzie sells soaps, too.”

  Oh. Maybe her attempt to find common ground hadn’t worked after all. She hadn’t expected to be in commercial conflict with any of them.

  “Um, perhaps you’d like to sell some of your soaps on consignment in my store,” she offered.

  Lizzie nodded. “Perhaps.”

  “May I ask what fragrances you use in your soap making?” Julia asked.

  Naomi waved a dismissive hand before returning to the pot of soup she was stirring. “We don’t use fragrance. That would be too worldly for our needs.”

  “But Julia sells her soaps to the Englisch, don’t you? So I’m sure you use fragrance. That’s what appeals to your Englisch customers. We do the same when we make things to sell to the Englisch, but we don’t use it in our own homes.” Sarah spoke in a kind tone.

  Julia smiled, trying not to show her anxiety. She gazed at the beautiful rag rug beneath her feet, thinking it would take time to get used to these people and their ways. “Yes, that’s true. I sell my soaps to anyone who will buy them.”

  “Ach, I don’t know any self-respecting Amish woman who would buy soap when she can make it herself,” Naomi said. Again, there was no cruelty in her statement but just a simple truth.

  A flush of embarrassed heat suffused Julia’s face. She was quickly learning how self-sufficient the Amish were. “I...I’m sure all of you are great soap makers. Perhaps you might teach me some of your methods.”

  “That sounds fun. And maybe you can teach us some of your techniques,” Abby said, smiling sweetly.

  “Absolutely. And I love the color of your dress. Did you make it?” Julia eyed the lovely dark rose color, thinking all of their dresses were beautiful in their simplicity.

  “Ja, we make all our clothes,” Abby said.

  At that moment, Marva Geingerich, the old Swartzentruber woman, came into the room. The thud of her cane pounded the bare floor with each step. With her presence, Julia’s hands felt trembly.

  “If you become Amish, you’ll have to learn to sew.” Marva spoke the words in a stern, warning voice.

  Linda lifted her head. “Ach, there’s nothing to sewing. I’ll teach you. If you can make soap, you can certainly learn to sew.”

  Julia wasn’t sure she wanted to learn. Nor did she plan to join the Amish but she didn’t say so. Instead, she changed the subject.

  “This rag rug is beautiful. Did you make it?” she asked Linda.

  “Ja, I used all the leftover scraps of cloth I’ve collected over the years.”

  “Maybe you would like to sell your rugs in my store on consignment, too,” Julia suggested.

  Linda paused as she filled a teapot full of boiling hot water. Then, she smiled wide. “Ja, I would like that. That’s very generous of you.”

  Julia shrugged. “The way I look at it, any kind of business can be good for all of us.”

  Several women stopped their various chores to look quizzically at her, but Julia just ducked her head and kept slicing. She realized then that making soap was simply part of Amish life. Rather than finding common ground with these women, Julia sensed that she had offended them and she wasn’t sure how to make things right. Perhaps it would be best to shut her mouth, get through the meal and hope that Martin took her home soon. Except for sitting on a hard bench all morning, she’d done nothing today. No real physical labor. But it didn’t seem to matter. She was absolutely exhausted and ready to leave.

  * * *

  “Martin, I see you’ve brought an Englischer to church with you today.”

  Martin turned and saw Ezekiel Burkholder gazing at him intently from where he sat at the table waiting for his noon meal. At the age of ninety-five, Dawdi Zeke, as they called him, was the eldest member of their Gmay. With sparkling gray eyes and shocking white hair and beard, the man was still spry and in complete control of his mental faculties.

  Martin walked over to the old patriarch and sat down opposite him. “Ja, she is an Englischer. Her name is Julia Rose.”

  Several men, including Martin’s father, Bishop Yoder and Deacon Albrecht, sat nearby and Martin realized he was about to get a grilling from them. Before he left this evening, Martin had no doubt they all would know everything they possibly could about Julia and her family. He couldn’t help wondering if she was facing the same dilemma inside the kitchen. What was taking her so long? She’d gone inside the house with his mother some time ago and he was anxious to know how she was doing.

  “How did you meet this woman?” Dawdi Zeke asked.

  Martin explained about his job at Rose Soapworks.

  “It’s gut that you are earning money to pay for your barn. But what are your intentions with this woman?”

  Here it was. The question Martin had known would come up eventually. A question he wished to avoid.

&nb
sp; “I have no intentions at all. She is just a friend and my employer. She expressed an interest in my faith so I brought her to church. I also invited her mudder but she didn’t want to komm,” he said.

  “He is even teaching Julia to speak Deitsch,” David said. His comment was accompanied by a round of ahhs and approving nods.

  “The best marriages start with a man and woman becoming gut friends,” Dawdi Zeke said.

  Several men nodded again, including David, who sat back in his seat, his gaze narrowed on his son. Martin could feel their intensity. Unless Julia converted to their faith, becoming friends with the Englischer could only lead to trouble. Especially for an unmarried Amish man in desperate need of a wife.

  “When I marry, I will wed an Amish woman or not at all,” Martin reassured them, noticing that his father’s tensed shoulders relaxed a bit. “But Julia has expressed a great interest in our faith, so I felt it was my duty to lead her to the Lord.”

  There, that was good. It was the truth, after all. Martin knew that none of the men could argue with this logic. Though they didn’t actively proselytize, they still had an obligation to teach the truth when someone asked them for the information.

  “That is gut, as long as you are vigilant and careful not to be swayed to accept the worldly values the Englisch seem to cherish,” Bishop Yoder said.

  “Ja, you must be wary lest this woman tries to entice you to an Englisch life,” Deacon Albrecht added.

  Martin soon found himself receiving all sorts of advice on how to stay strong in his faith while leading Julia to the truth. Having anticipated this beforehand, he took it all in stride.

  But as he listened, his thoughts turned to Julia. When they’d first arrived late to the meeting, he could see that she didn’t want to be here. He could see the panic written all across her face. Her eyes had widened with amazement, her forehead crinkled in confusion. What seemed normal and mundane to him must seem so strange and eccentric to her.

  Then, the minister had started to speak. Julia’s attention had been rapt on the man. As she listened, a look of peace had covered her glowing face. She looked so innocent and pure sitting there in his father’s barn. He’d felt highly attracted to her. But just one problem: she wasn’t Amish.