Her Amish Christmas Choice

by Leigh Bale

  “Ja, once Julia converts, she will make a good fraa for Martin. You must be excited to have a new schwardochder.” Lori smiled at Linda.

  Fraa? Schwardochder? Julia’s ears perked up at the two unknown words. Hmm, she’d have to ask Martin what they meant, but she feared she already knew.

  Like a bolt of lightning, Mom’s words rushed through her head. Was it possible Martin’s people were only being kind because they hoped to nab her as a new convert to their faith? And what if they found out she had no intention of joining them?

  A sick feeling settled in her stomach. Julia hated to disappoint Martin and his family. And once again, those old feelings of hurt and betrayal came crashing in on her. Dallin and Debbie had lied and used her. They’d taught her to distrust people.

  She wasn’t going to convert to the Amish faith simply because they had chopped her wood and helped in her store. She had to know deep within her heart that the Amish faith was true. She would only convert if she believed in their religion with all her heart. For whatever reasons, Mom didn’t approve of the Amish and didn’t want them here. Though she’d always longed for siblings and a family of her own, Julia loved her mother most of all. She would never do something to defy or alienate her mom. No, not ever.

  Besides, Martin hadn’t spoken of marriage to her. They weren’t even romantically involved. They were just good friends. Weren’t they? That was all they could ever be. Because she was Englisch and he was Amish.

  But what if his family and the rest of his congregation had made incorrect assumptions about her relationship with Martin? What if they thought she was going to marry him?

  She’d have to broach the subject with Martin. But if he thought she was going to join his Amish faith and abandon her mother, he was dead wrong.

  * * *

  “Have you invited Julia to church on Sunday?”

  Martin whirled around and found his mother standing nearby, leaning against a sturdy broom. She spoke in Deitsch.

  He had just set the giant mixer into place in the workroom and was wiping off a splotch of grease from the large stainless steel bowl. Julia was in the retail part of the store, painting the trim on an old chest of drawers. The chore was perfect for her since it didn’t require the use of her injured hand. It was early afternoon—almost time to leave for the frolic supper.

  “I...I didn’t have to. She asked if she could komm.” Even though he was a grown man, he felt tongue-tied on this subject.

  “Ach, that’s gut,” Linda said.

  Something hardened inside of Martin. He didn’t want to get his hopes up that Julia would join his faith.

  “Mamm, you mustn’t expect too much,” he said. “I don’t want to push Julia. She’s told me her mudder doesn’t approve and she has no intention of joining our faith.”

  Linda nodded wisely, her cheeks plumping with her smile. “And yet, she asked if she can komm to church again. That means she is interested. So, we shall see. The gut Lord works in mysterious ways. Julia may receive a conviction of the truth without intending to. Only time will tell.”

  Linda turned and reached for her black traveling bonnet and heavy shawl. “We’re going heemet now, to pick up the other kinder and my casserole dish. I’ll see you at the bishop’s farm for supper.”

  He nodded but didn’t speak as she called to the other women. They came at once, bidding Julia a cheery farewell. Setting her paintbrush aside, she hugged each one in turn. It seemed odd that they were all such good friends, yet Julia insisted she didn’t want to become one of them.

  Stepping outside, he saw the men had gathered most of their tools and were climbing into their buggies to go home. Their laughter mingled with the mild breeze. Hank was with his father, though the boy was arguing just now. Martin could hear him complaining that he wanted to stay with Julia.

  “You’ll see her at the frolic supper later on. Now komm,” David said.

  Thankfully, the boy went willingly. Martin suspected his father had purposefully taken Hank with him, to give Martin time alone with Julia. His parents hadn’t said so but he knew they hoped Julia would be baptized and Martin would marry her. Funny how they accepted Julia now that they thought she would join their faith. He just hated to disappoint them.

  Waving goodbye, Martin rounded the house to the backyard. For some reason, he wanted to be alone for a while. Several tidy piles of firewood had been set back away from the house. All the wood had been cut except for one cord of tree stumps. The men had left that work for Martin to finish.

  Lifting the chisel and ax, he placed them on a stump and brought the ax down hard. The crack of the wood sounded in the air as he split it into hand-size pieces. The physical labor felt good and before long, he had to remove his warm coat.

  “It’s hard work, huh?”

  Martin jerked around and found Julia behind him, a safe distance away from the ax. Sitting on a tree stump, she gestured to the scattered wood he’d tossed aside until he was finished and ready to stack it in a pile.

  He smiled, not minding the work at all. “Ja, but very worth the effort.”

  “My father told me once that firewood warms you twice. When you cut it and when you use it to heat the house.”

  Embedding the steel of his ax into the stump, he rested his forearm on the wooden handle. He chuckled, the sound coming deep from within his chest. “Ja, your vadder was a wise man.”

  “What does fraa mean?” she asked suddenly.

  He tilted his head, wondering where she’d heard the word. Probably from one of the women inside. “It means wife.”

  “And what does schwardochder mean?”

  “Daughter-in-law,” he said.

  “Oh, I was afraid of that.” She frowned, looking down at the ground.

  “Is something wrong?” he asked.

  She shook her head but wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Ne, nothing is wrong. Nothing at all. It’s just that I overheard the women talking today and...and... Martin, do your people think you and I are a couple? That we’re more than friends?”

  She spoke in a rush, her face flushing red. Martin stared, taken aback by her blunt question.

  “I’m not sure what they think.” He spoke truthfully, feeling suddenly at a loss for something intelligent to say.

  “What about your parents? What does your mudder think?”

  Here it was, the topic he’d been avoiding. It was an odd situation, really. Julia was his employer. She had hired him to do a job. And because she had saved little Rachel from being scalded, his people had come to her aid at the soap store. But they were just friends. They couldn’t be anything more.

  Could they?

  “My mudder wishes I would marry but she knows you are Englisch,” he said.

  “And my mom wants me to remain Englisch,” she said.

  “Ja, it seems both our midder are at cross purposes. But they only want what they believe is best for each of us.”

  “Midder?” she asked.

  “One mudder, two midder,” he explained.

  She nodded, repeating the new word. Each time he gave her a new Deitsch word, she seemed to remember it easily. And over the past couple of weeks, they had been adding more and more complicated words and phrases to her dialogue. She was now able to piece together simple sentences.

  “My mudder believes that women are treated like chattel by your men. She thinks Amish women are no more than servants to their husbands and that their entire life is filled with drudgery.” Her eyes were filled with sadness, as if she hoped this wasn’t true.

  He snorted and reached for his coat, sliding his arms into the sleeves before shrugging it up around his shoulders.

  “I can’t speak for what goes on in other Amish homes, but my mamm is definitely not a servant to my vadder. He calls her his queen and treats her well. He counsels with her and they make plans together. He seeks her opin
ion on all matters. Mamm and my sisters help in the barn, shop and field. Likewise, my daed, brothers and I help in the garden and around the house. I have even hung laundry. Once I marry, I plan to treat my fraa the same way.”

  She nodded. “Okay. Thank you for that explanation.”

  “Honestly, I think my vadder is more afraid of Mamm than he is of the bishop. And that is saying a lot,” he said.

  She laughed, the sound high and sweet. It seemed to melt the frigid ice of their conversation. But in his heart of hearts, Martin couldn’t imagine ever abusing Julia or any woman. In fact, the thought of someone hurting her made his chest tighten and his hands tremble. He was a pacifist and had been taught to turn the other cheek but he truly didn’t know what he would do if he ever caught someone abusing Julia.

  A door slammed somewhere inside the house and she jerked her head in that direction. “It’s getting late.”

  He flashed a smile. “Ja, we should leave for the supper.”

  She stood and turned toward the house. “If you’ll give me a few minutes, I’d like to change out of my dirty work clothes.”

  He nodded. “When you’re ready.”

  Watching her go, his thoughts were a jumble of turmoil. She was curious about his faith but had no intention of converting. Mamm thought she might be convinced otherwise. But Martin would not force her. She would have to come to his faith of her own free will. Otherwise, she could change her mind later on down the road. Years could pass and then they’d have disastrous consequences. It must be her choice alone.

  Tugging the ax free of the tree stump, he put it away in the shed so the damp weather wouldn’t cause it to rust. His father had taught him to be fastidious and careful in everything he did. It was who he was. And in choosing the woman who would one day be his wife, he could be no different.

  He walked to the front of the house and leaned against the porch railing as he waited for Julia. She was so different from the Amish girls he knew. So independent. He wasn’t sure he could get along with such a woman. In the Amish faith, wives were partners with their husbands but the man had the final word on important issues.

  But something had changed between him and Julia today. Something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. They had actually discussed having a deeper relationship. But that wasn’t possible. They were only friends and nothing more.

  Chapter Nine

  “They’re here! They’re here!”

  Julia heard Hank’s cry from clear across the yard as Martin turned his horse into the pasture. As they walked toward Bishop Yoder’s farmhouse, she saw the boy running toward them, his short stocky legs moving as fast as they could go.

  Since her left hand was still bandaged, she had let Martin carry her ham-and-potato-cheese casserole for her. Though they only had another hour or so of sunlight left before it got dark, the November day was crisp yet pleasant. The perfect evening for a fall frolic.

  “Mar-tin and Julia!”

  Hank cried their names over and over until he reached them. Though he didn’t touch her, he immediately sidled up next to Julia.

  “You’re finally here,” he said, panting and sweating from his exertions.

  “Hallo, Hank. Wie bischt du?” She smiled at the boy.

  “I am gut! But we’ve been waiting for you and I’m about half starved.” He skipped along like a little child rather than a fifteen-year-old boy.

  Julia laughed at his melodramatic statement. “I’m sorry we’re late.”

  “Ach, it’s allrecht. We can eat now you’re here.” Hank flashed a good-natured grin in spite of the loud rumblings of his stomach.

  Children raced across the yard in a game of chase while the teenage youths bunched together to discuss their day. The gathering was just like that on Church Sunday, except that everyone still wore their work clothes. But no one was eating. They were obviously waiting for her and Martin.

  “Is the entire Gmay here?” Julia spoke low to Martin.

  “Ja, and they’re happy to see you,” he said.

  Julia wasn’t so sure. The men sat at the tables or stood talking in clusters while the women bustled about setting out food. Since she’d attended one of their church gatherings and had worked with many of them at her soap studio, Julia knew most of them by name.

  “I hope they’re not irritated to be kept waiting,” she said.

  “Ne, of course not. You are their guest of honor. They only wish your mudder could be here, too,” he said.

  She stumbled over the uneven ground. Holding the casserole with one hand, Martin shot out his free hand to steady her. He just as quickly released her but not before she felt his firm, strong fingers around her arm.

  Realizing his people were watching, Julia felt a flush of embarrassment. “Many of them have been working at my place all day. I would think they’d be sick of me by now.”

  Martin shook his head. “Ne, that isn’t our way. Gott expects us to care for and serve one another.”

  His words touched her deeply. Was he for real? His attitude seemed so different from Dallin’s. Whenever she’d asked her ex-fiancé for help, he’d done so begrudgingly. Not with a willing heart and a smile. “I don’t know how to ever repay them.”

  “No payment is necessary.”

  His words reminded her of a scripture she’d read last night about when Jesus gave His apostles a new commandment to love one another as they loved themselves. “Then you will just have to let me know when you have another work frolic and I will be there to help.”

  He smiled at that. “Gut! I am glad to see you understand how hard work can bless everyone.”

  As they reached the group, Julia saw that they all looked tired from their day’s labors but they didn’t complain and they all wore happy smiles on their faces. Yes, Julia understood what they were feeling. It was the fatigue and the joy of accomplishing wonderful things that day. She decided then that she loved the Amish work ethic.

  “Hallo!” several of them called to her.

  Julia smiled and waved, then immediately went to help the women lay out the meal. They welcomed her like a long-lost friend. Since it was a potluck, everyone had brought food items to contribute to the feast. A variety of casseroles, pickled beets, breads and pies were arrayed on the long tables. Julia pointed to where Martin should set her casserole, happy that she had contributed to the meal.

  “That looks delicious.” Linda nodded at the dish and hugged Julia.

  Feeling happy inside, Julia smiled and returned the woman’s embrace. “Danke, but I can’t take credit. My mudder made it. She wanted me to pass on my thanks to all of you.”

  Linda drew back in surprise, her eyes wide, her mouth curving in a smile. “Ach, your mudder made the casserole? That was nice of her.”

  “Ja, very nice.” Several other women stood nearby, nodding in approval.

  “But she didn’t want to join us?” Lori asked.

  “Ne, I’m afraid she isn’t feeling well.”

  “I’m sorry to hear she is sick,” Abby said.

  “She has gut days and bad days. I’ll let her know you asked about her,” Julia said.

  “How is your hand?” Eli Stoltzfus stood up from the table to greet her and nodded at the bandages.

  “Gut. I get the bandages off the day after Thanksgiving. Thanks to you, the doctor believes I will have very little scarring,” she said.

  “The thanks should be to Gott,” Eli said, his gaze direct yet humble.

  Julia nodded in understanding. She was gradually learning that the Amish were a meek people who didn’t seek praise. It was their way to give all the credit to God, which was just one more thing she liked about them. More and more, she was coming to realize the Lord wanted them to serve one another.

  “Let us pray,” Bishop Yoder called in a loud voice to get everyone’s attention.

  They each went very
quiet and bowed their heads, even the small children. After the prayer, they ate their meal. Martin came to sit next to Julia and she felt instantly relieved. Somehow his presence eased her fears. She was worried about upsetting her mother, yet she also wanted to please herself.

  “Vie gehts?” he asked low.

  “I am fine. Don’t worry so much,” she responded.

  He smiled at that. She was trying to reassure him, yet she still felt a little uncertain.

  “Do you have plans for Thanksgiving dinner?” he asked.

  She nodded. “Ja, my mudder always roasts a turkey.”

  “Just the two of you?” Linda asked from behind as she reached past them to fill their glasses with water.

  “Yes, just us two,” Julia said, wishing her father was still here.

  “You could join us, if you like. We have plenty of room,” Linda said.

  “Oh, thank you. But my mother looks forward to cooking every year.” Knowing her mother would never agree to having dinner with Martin’s family, Julia forgot to speak Deitsch. She was grateful when Linda didn’t push the issue.

  As Julia ate, she met Martin’s gaze. The two of them didn’t need to speak for her to know exactly what he was thinking. He was worried about her. He wanted her to feel happy and comfortable among his people. And she did, for the most part.

  “Where did you say you were from, girl?”

  Julia looked up and saw Marva Geingerich sitting across the table from her. “I’m from Kansas.”

  Marva narrowed her eyes, her forehead crinkled in a deep frown. “And who are your people?”

  Julia forced herself not to stutter as she responded to the old matriarch. She always got the feeling that this woman didn’t like her and that made her feel uncomfortable. “My parents are Walter and Sharon Rose. You met my mother last week.”

  “Hmm. And what was your mudder’s maiden name?” Marva asked.

  “Miller,” Julia said, trying not to bristle at this interrogation.

  “Miller?” Marva’s lips thinned with disapproval. “I knew a lot of Millers among the Amish when I lived in Ohio.”