Her Amish Christmas Choice

by Leigh Bale

  To love and marry outside his faith, he would be shunned by his people. They wouldn’t speak to him nor take anything from his hand. He couldn’t do business with them. He couldn’t do anything. For those reasons, he would never do anything to get himself shunned, no matter how much he longed for a wife and familye of his own.

  At that moment, a stream of women came from the house carrying a variety of bowls and platters of food. The moment he saw the flash of Julia’s bright skirt, his senses went on high alert. Not wanting to appear too eager, he forced himself to drag his gaze away as she carried a tea service over to Dawdi Zeke and set it on the table. Little four-year-old Rachel Geingerich followed with a plate of cookies for the elderly man. The girl stumbled across the uneven grass, almost dropping her cargo before Julia rescued her.

  “Here, let me help you.” She spoke kindly to the child as she took her arm while the girl regained her footing.

  “Danke,” Rachel said, her voice high and sweet as she set the plate on the table next to Zeke.

  “I will be going into the mountains in a few days, to collect some firewood,” Martin said. Speaking in Deitsch, he’d purposefully changed the subject. If his father wasn’t interested in helping gather the wood, he didn’t want Julia to know.

  David tilted his head. “Why do you need firewood? It’s late in the season and we have plenty here for our needs.”

  “It’s for Julia and her mudder. They have recently arrived in Riverton and will need fuel for their wood-burning stoves. I thought I could go get some before the snow flies.”

  “Ach, it sounds like it’s time for a frolic.” Bishop Yoder slapped his hands against his thighs and smiled wide.

  “I can help,” Jakob Fisher offered.

  “And me also,” Will Lapp said.

  “Ja, we can get a work party together and take care of the chore in one trip. We might need an additional day to cut the wood into smaller pieces but that shouldn’t be too difficult,” the bishop suggested.

  Martin nodded, eager for their help. A frolic was usually work-based, with men and women helping to accomplish a specific task. It was a time for catching up on one another’s business while they worked to bless someone else’s life. And it always included a nice meal at the end. He had wondered how he would have time to bring in enough fuel for Julia’s needs before the first snowfall.

  Within a few minutes, the frolic was organized and he couldn’t help feeling overwhelmed by the willingness of his Gmay to pitch in. It was one of the reasons he loved his faith so much. Service was an integral part of the Amish religion and he was overjoyed to be a part of it.

  “Rachel! Look out!”

  Martin whipped around and saw little Rachel reaching for the teapot filled with scalding hot water. As if in slow motion, he saw the child standing on tiptoe to grasp the handle of the teapot with her tiny hands. Sitting in front of her was a cup and saucer. No doubt she intended to pour a cup of tea for Dawdi Zeke. But the pot tilted, the lid slid off and the steam rose from the opening as hot water sloshed over the rim.

  Seeing the danger, Martin tried to react, but he wasn’t quick enough. Instead, Julia knocked the pot askew. It tipped over but, instead of dousing Rachel’s head with boiling water, it washed over Julia’s left hand and wrist.

  “Ouch!” Julia cried. She shook the hot water off, then held her hand close to her chest to ease the pain.

  Before Martin could take another breath, he saw her skin turn a bright, angry red. Tears filled her eyes and he shot out of his seat.

  “Mamm! We need cold water now,” he yelled.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his mother turn, see the dilemma and send a boy sprinting to the spring house. Linda grabbed a pitcher of chilled water from off one of the tables and hurried over to Julia.

  “Put your hand in here. There, my liebchen,” she cooed as she thrust Julia’s entire hand and wrist into the cooling liquid.

  “Eli! We need Eli now!” Martin searched the congregation for the man.

  Eli Stoltzfus stood up from his place at the opposite end of the yard and came running. “What is it?”

  “She is badly burned,” Martin said.

  While Martin got Julia a chair to sit on, Eli inspected her injuries. Tears freely ran down her face and she bit her bottom lip. Martin thought she was doing an admirable job of trying not to cry. It took everything within him not to cry, too. How he wished he could take her pain upon himself. He hated to see her injured.

  “You have a bad scald,” Eli told her.

  “Are you a doctor?” Julia asked, her voice vibrating. She looked pale and frightened.

  “Ne, but I am a certified paramedic.”

  The boy returned with a bucket of water from the spring house. Eli submerged her hand in the fresh, chilled liquid.

  “I...I didn’t know the Amish could be paramedics.” Surprise flashed in Julia’s eyes. She looked so incredulous that several people around her chuckled.

  “You’d be surprised what we can be,” Eli spoke without looking up.

  The paramedic studied her skin. Martin was stunned to see huge blisters forming right before his eyes. They covered the top of her hand and fingers and extended up her wrist.

  The commotion had brought the attention of almost the entire congregation. Hank crowded close to see what was amiss.

  “Julia! Are you all right?” the boy asked, his eyes wide with anxiety as he pushed his spectacles up the bridge of his nose. Always kind and loving, he rubbed her shoulder in a circular motion.

  At that moment, Julia appeared to be gritting her teeth. She nodded and showed a weak smile to the boy. “Don’t worry, Hank. I’m all right.”

  But she wasn’t. Martin could tell by looking at her wan face and the angry red burns. The fact that she would offer comfort to Hank when she was in distress caused Martin’s respect for her to grow. She wasn’t a weak or silly woman. She was strong and compassionate and filled with faith.

  If only she were Amish.

  “Ach, you poor dear,” Naomi said.

  “She saved my Rachel. Did you see? If she hadn’t knocked the pot aside, it would have spilled boiling water all over my little girl.” Lori Geingerich spoke with disbelief as she hugged Rachel to her chest.

  “Mamm, is Julia gonna be okay?” Rachel asked, her voice quivering with tears.

  Linda answered instead. “Of course she is. We’re going to take gut care of her.”

  She also rested a comforting hand on Julia’s back. Seeing his mother’s compassion for this Englisch woman caused a hard lump to form in Martin’s throat. How he loved his familye. How he loved his faith. It didn’t matter right now that Julia was an outsider. In this moment, they would care for her like they would one of their own.

  “We could put butter on the burns,” Sarah kindly suggested.

  “Ne, Eli says that’s the worst thing we can do for a burn since it holds the heat into the wound. Cooling compresses are best,” Lizzie said.

  “Ach, I’m glad to know that. I’ll remember next time one of my kinder gets burned,” Sarah said.

  “We should take you to the hospital as soon as possible.” Eli spoke to Julia, ignoring the comments around him. “I’m afraid you’ll experience a bit of pain for a while. Let’s keep your hand submerged in the water while we drive you into town.”

  He glanced at Martin.

  “Ja, I’ll get the buggy.” With a sharp nod, Martin sprinted toward the pasture where the road horses were grazing.

  “Mar-tin! I wanna come with you. Julia’s my girl,” Hank called to him.

  Martin slowed and glanced over his shoulder, ready to bark an irritated command for his brother to stay behind. He didn’t have time to deal with Hank right now and didn’t want to argue with the boy.

  Thankfully, David clasped Hank’s arm and pulled him back. “You’ll stay right h
ere with your mudder and me, sohn. Too many people will slow things down and Eli needs to get Julia to the hospital quickly.”

  “Ah!” Hank grouched.

  Martin hurried on, jumping over the fence surrounding Mamm’s vegetable garden. As he passed, his booted heels sank deep into the graveled driveway. He’d get the horse harnessed and ready to go right now.

  As he lunged through the gate, the road horses scattered and he forced himself to slow down so he wouldn’t spook them. One thought pounded his brain. He had to help Julia. She was hurting badly. He had to get her some relief soon. While he’d watched Eli tending her wounds, he’d felt so helpless. So powerless to do anything for her.

  And what would he tell her mother? He was responsible for Julia. It had been his job to keep her safe. He hated the thought of telling Sharon that he had failed.

  Now, he had a mission. Something concrete that he could do for her. His horse was well rested and could race him and Eli into town with Julia. They could be at the hospital within twenty-five minutes.

  Martin’s hands trembled as he harnessed the horse to the buggy. He forced himself to calm down. But he dreaded driving Julia home to her mother afterward. Dreaded the accusing look that would undoubtedly fill Sharon’s eyes. She didn’t want Julia to come to church with him and look what had happened.

  Julia had to be all right. She just had to be. Because nothing else mattered now except her.

  Chapter Seven

  “Oww!” Julia dropped the bucket of coconut oil on the floor with a thump and cradled her injured hand close against her abdomen. It was midmorning the day after her accident and she was at home, struggling to accomplish her work.

  “I thought you were upstairs resting.” Sharon came up behind her, picked up the heavy bucket and set it on one of the new industrial-strength shelves Martin had built for her last week.

  A strong gust of wind buffeted the front porch but the overhanging canopy didn’t budge an inch. Martin’s work was quality and she was grateful for his skills. But the leaden clouds filling the sky were a bad premonition and she feared the weather might change before they were able to go into the mountains for firewood. She hated the thought of parting with more precious funds to buy the wood from a vendor in town but they might not have a choice.

  “There’s too much work to take it easy. I need to accomplish something productive today.” Using her right hand, Julia picked up a birchwood mold and stacked it on a shelf with a variety of other wood and silicone molds.

  As Eli Stoltzfus had predicted, the doctor had wrapped the burns on her left hand and wrist in loose gauze until she looked like she wore a white boxer’s glove. The thick packing helped cushion the wound while it healed but it was cumbersome and difficult to manage. Because her skin had blistered, the wound could become infected. Thankfully, the scald had been superficial and would heal in time for her to make more soap before her deadline...but not soon enough for her.

  At least she still had the use of her right hand. But she was stunned to discover just how much she needed two good hands to do her chores. Simple tasks like washing her face or brushing her hair had become difficult. Also, the copious padding of the compress made it rather difficult to do anything with precision. If nothing else, she was fast acquiring compassion for people who had to deal with such disabilities on a permanent basis.

  “The doctor said you should take it easy for a few days.” Sharon rested a fist on her hip as she stood next to the doorway.

  Martin was outside in the parking lot, cutting pieces of gray Formica to finish the countertops. Soon, he would be ready to install the glass partition to separate the workroom from the retail part of the store.

  Julia stepped over to the new glass display case she’d purchased secondhand from the grocery store in town. Using her good hand, she dipped a rag into a bucket of hot soapy water, wrung it out as best she could, then scrubbed one of the shelf inserts.

  “I’m not an invalid, Mom,” she said. “As long as I don’t use my left hand, I should be fine. We have a store to get operational. If I sit upstairs all day, we won’t be ready for our grand opening the first of December and I’ll go stir-crazy.”

  “Excuse us, please.”

  Julia turned. Martin and Hank stood in the open doorway holding a long sheet of Formica. Both he and Sharon stepped back as the men carried the heavy piece over to the framework for the new counter and laid it into place.

  “That looks wundervoll. It should be easy to clean and won’t show the grime and dirt at all.” Julia eyed the slate-gray Formica with approval.

  Sharon frowned. “You’re speaking their language now?”

  Julia blinked, then nodded. “It’s been fun to learn some of their words and phrases.” She’d been studying the Scriptures at night and praying, too. For some reason, she had an insatiable desire to learn more about God.

  Sharon cast an accusing glance at Martin, biting her bottom lip as if to keep from telling him off. Her animosity toward the Amish man was palpable.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be upstairs resting?” Martin asked Julia. He wore leather gloves and laid a hand on top of the new countertop.

  Lifting her eyebrows in an I told you so expression, Sharon peered at her daughter. “You see? Even Martin agrees with me. You should be upstairs.”

  “I can clean the cabinet for you,” Hank offered. He stepped close and took the wash rag from her hand.

  “Danke, Hank,” she said, though she doubted he would be as thorough as her. To make him happy, she would let him clean most of the grime off the shelves, then return later to make sure the job was pristine.

  “Go rest and beheef dich.” Martin nudged her shoulder, urging her away from the cabinet.

  “What does that mean?” Julia asked, determined to stay right where she was.

  “It means behave yourself. Something which you seem to have a lot of trouble doing,” Martin said.

  Julia laughed, thinking his choice of words quite funny. She was bored upstairs and her mind was racing with all the work needing to be done. With her damaged hand, she wouldn’t be able to help Martin go into the mountains to collect firewood. Snow would soon fly and she wasn’t sure what they would do without fuel to heat the building. The electrical heating system was certainly of no use to them now. Not without power. If the store got too cold, their customers wouldn’t want to visit. But she didn’t want to purchase the wood either. So, what could she do?

  “That’s right. For once, I agree with Martin,” Sharon said.

  Martin glowered and Julia thought he was angry with her until she saw a twinkle in his eyes and his lips twitched with a suppressed smile. Again, she laughed and repeated the Deitsch phrase, noticing her mother’s frown. Obviously, Mom didn’t like her learning the Amish language.

  “I’m not going upstairs, so stop badgering me. I’m not in pain and there is too much to be done...” She began the argument but never got the chance to finish. “Hey! What is that?” She pointed out the wide sparkling windows that fronted the store.

  Pulling into the parking lot and lining up along Main Street were six empty hay wagons pulled by the largest draft horses she’d ever seen. Approximately thirty Amish men accompanied the wagons.

  “Ach, there’s Daed!” Hank ran outside to greet his father.

  Sure enough, David Hostetler sat in the driver’s seat of one big wagon.

  “It’s a frolic,” Martin said.

  “A frolic?” Confused by this turn of events, Julia and her mother followed Hank and stood on the front porch. The chill wind buffeted them and Julia folded her arms against the bitter cold.

  “Ja, a work frolic.” Without explaining, Martin went to speak with his father and Bishop Yoder. A number of Amish women hopped down off the wagon seats and headed toward the store.

  “Harvest season is over with, so what are they doing here with their wagons?�
� Rubbing her arms briskly with her hands, Sharon whispered the question to her daughter.

  Julia shrugged. “I...I think they’re here to get firewood for us.”

  She was fascinated by the sight. How she longed to ride in one of the wagons pulled by two large Percherons or Belgians. Since she knew little about horses, she wasn’t sure what breed they were. She could just imagine Martin driving the big animals as he plowed and planted a hayfield. It sounded fun and exciting to her.

  “Hallo, Julia.” Linda Hostetler waved and smiled pleasantly as she stepped up onto the porch.

  Sarah, Naomi, Lizzie and Lori waited nearby, each wearing their black mantle coats and white prayer kapps and smiling shyly. Even Marva Geingerich had accompanied the women into town. She stood beside the bishop’s wife, her black traveling bonnet pulled low across her face as she gazed at Julia with a severe scowl. Julia chose to ignore the elderly woman. After all, she had done nothing wrong and refused to feel shame simply because Marva disapproved of her.

  Holding her injured hand close against her abdomen, Julia stepped down off the porch to greet the women. “Hallo! What are you all doing here?”

  “We are having a frolic. We have come to help with your work,” Linda explained with a wide smile.

  Abby Fisher stepped up onto the porch. She smiled sweetly as she handed an apple pie to Sharon before speaking in perfect English. “Hello. This is for you.”

  “Um, thank you.” Sharon nodded, looking stunned and skeptical.

  Hank ran over to Julia and handed her a yellow tulip bud that had been in a warm spot of the yard and had just started to bloom. “This is for you, because you’re my girl.”

  The tip of his tongue protruded slightly from between his thick lips as he looked at her with those big, innocent eyes and a silly grin.

  She gazed at the flower. “Danke, Hank. I’ll put it in some water.”

  She reached out and patted his cheek, smiling as sweetly as she could. Then, she looked at the wagons again and blinked. She’d heard the word frolic yesterday at church but didn’t understand its meaning. “What’s going on? What is a frolic?”