by Sarah Price
“You going to his house for supper then, tomorrow?”
Oh, he had asked her. A dozen times. But Elsie didn’t want to be a bother. They had all those kinner and dairy work. His wife, Melinda, was always busy baking bread or making cheese to sell in town. Like so many others, they struggled to make do, but they certainly didn’t have enough for one more mouth. At least that was what Elsie constantly told Menno when he invited her to visit for an evening meal. His persistence was not as strong as her desire to not be a bother to anyone.
“Nee,” Elsie said. “With all the work he has to do, too much bother to come get me, I told him.”
At that, Rachel Ann frowned. “Now Elsie,” she said, taking the applesauce back and dishing some in her own bowl. “You can’t be like that. And you need to eat.”
“I’m eating now, ain’t so?”
Rachel Ann frowned. “You need a gut supper on Christmas, I reckon!” Pause. “But you also need a gut supper every night!”
“I eat,” Elsie said feebly, knowing that it wasn’t always exactly true. If Rachel Ann hadn’t stopped by, Elsie never would have reheated that soup for supper. She would have gone to bed without having eaten a thing.
“And if you don’t start eating right, I’m going to have to make you some new dresses! You’ve lost weight, Elsie,” she fussed. “But look at this dress I have on. It’s a new fabric from the dry goods store. So soft and warm. Here, touch the bottom!” Without waiting for her response, Rachel Ann lifted up the corner of her dress and thrust it into Elsie’s hand. “Isn’t it just divine? Mayhaps I’ll make you a dress anyway. You’d like right smart in a new maroon dress from this fabric.”
She continued to talk, filling the room with a joyful noise of happiness and stories from her life that Elsie found herself staring at this amazing young woman. Rachel Ann had always been a jovial person, quick to smile and laugh. Other women called her easy-going, kind, and big hearted. Elsie was blessed to also call her a neighbor.
Was it already eleven years since Rachel Ann had moved into the farmette next door? They had been young and just married but less than six months. It was only four acres and not large enough to sustain a living through farming. So her husband, John David, hired himself out as a landscaper, doing what he could to drum up business from the Englischers that lived nearby. There were always plenty of people who were too busy for yard work. The only problem was that John David didn’t drive. It was hard to travel too far and he certainly couldn’t bring lots of equipment.
It was happening to more and more families. The larger farms passed down from generation to generation. Still, with many Amish families having eight to ten children, that left a great need for homes since farms were in short order.
The overflow was noticeable by all. Some of the towns located just outside of Lancaster were overcrowded. Major roads were clogged with traffic, especially during the summer when tourist season was at its peak. Developments were springing up overnight on what used to be rich farmland. Some families were moving west. Missouri and Montana were increasingly popular. The others tried to make due with newer houses on smaller properties. They would have enough property for a horse and a few cows and chickens. They could certainly have a nice sized family garden. But that was about it.
Still, it wasn’t the housing that was a problem. It was work. Indeed, without farming and with limited positions in Amish stores, there simply weren’t many options. Despite their best efforts to avoid the worldliness of the non-Amish, finding work among the Englische was often the only solution.
In the case of Rachel Ann, Elsie knew that the family fell into the category of one that was struggling financially. Rachel Ann worked from before sunrise to well into the night, making cheese and jams to sell at the roadside stand where their eldest daughter, Mabel, worked during the summer and after school. She was only ten years old but her long hours, standing in the dilapidated road side food stand, added considerable income to the family.
“My Mabel made that applesauce this fall past,” Rachel Ann said proudly. “Made 200 quarts for sale and another 100 quarts for our own pantry!”
“She’s a gut girl,” Elsie said, and she meant it.
“She’s out with her youth group right now,” Rachel Ann said, her voice happy and cheerful. “She and John Junior. Running with the school group to sing Christmas carols at the older people’s homes.” For a moment, Rachel Ann flushed. They both silently wondered if the group of children would stop at Elsie’s to sing a tune or two.
It was a custom among the Amish for the school aged children to visit those that were older or widowed or infirmed. They would sing carols as a way of warming the homes of those who were quite often lonely during the winter months, especially during the holiday season.
Elsie always kept crocheted bookmarks and doilies handy in case the children came by. She remembered the last Christmas when Stephen was still with her. The children had sung such a beautiful iteration of Shepherds! Shake Off Your Drowsy Sleep. She could still hear their sweet, innocent voices as they sang her favorite verse:
Hark! Even now the bells ring round,
Listen to their merry sound;
Hark! How the birds new songs are making,
As if winter’s chains were breaking.
Hearing the children had lifted Stephen’s spirits, despite the fact that he was ailing even back then.
“I know it’s cold out but I bundled those two children right gut and sent them with warm potatoes in their pockets!” She laughed as if the thought amused her. “John Junior was horrified at the thought, walking around with a steaming potato in his pocket but that Mabel told him that he’d sure be appreciative later on! Can’t wait to hear about it.”
“And your John David? Where is he that you can spend supper with me?” Elsie asked slowly, with a touch of guilt in her voice. She felt guilty knowing that Rachel Ann was not with her husband and her own family on Christmas Eve. She didn’t want to come between a man and wife on such a special night. After all, she thought, who am I to take Rachel Ann away from her family?
It was as if Rachel Ann could read her thoughts. She set her fork down and reached over to cover Elsie’s hand. With steady eyes, she stared at the older lady, a soft smile on her face. “Don’t you worry about that John David. I made certain that he and the other kinner were just fine, Elsie. You always worry about everyone else. Mayhaps it’s time to let others worry about you, ja? Stop fighting others’ wish to care for you…at least just for once.”
Elsie stared at Rachel Ann, speechless. The words that she had just spoken echoed in her brain. It hadn’t been that long ago that someone else had said similar words, almost verbatim. Once again, she found herself floating in her memory to a time way back when…
It was her mamm. She wasn’t doing well. Her breathing had slowed and she struggled to talk. She had been suffering for months while the cancer was spreading. During that time, Elsie had never left her side. She spent every waking moment with her mamm, even sleeping in a chair beside the bed at night so that her mamm never had to be alone.
During the day, Bruder Stephen would give Elsie some relief. He would sit with their mamm so that Elsie could hitch up the horse and buggy to run some errands in town. There was always the need to do food shopping at the Natural Food Store down Mulberry Lane. The quick errands were welcomed respites but she often found herself worrying the entire time, hoping that Stephen hadn’t left Mamm’s side. Other times, Elsie tended to some chores in the house: laundry needed washing, floors needed scrubbing. There was always something to do when Stephen offered to spend time with Mamm. Rarely, Elsie simply took a nap in the bedroom. She didn’t realize it at the time but it had been well over two months since she had slept in her own bed at night.
Elsie never complained.
Instead, she knew that each day was a blessing from the Lord. She woke up and, after seeing that her mamm was still breathing, Elsie would fall to her knees and send her prayers of gratitude to Go
d. One more day, she would pray each morning. That’s all I had asked for in my prayers and, once again, you provided. I thank You, Lord.
Elsie would spend hours reading to her mamm from the Ausbund or daily devotionals. Mamm especially loved the sixteenth verse of Song 87 of the Ausbund:
So let us now love God,
However not with words alone,
But in truth and in deed,
Upon earth in all places,
Let us do good to His children
All Together,
God will have pleasure in this,
When we esteem His children.
Often, her mamm would wave her hand when she was finished, indicating that she wanted Elsie to repeat what she had just read.
“It’s all about loving God through loving His children,” her mamm would say with a raspy voice. “And you, dear Elsie, are one of His children, indeed.”
Sometimes, the ladies from the church would come to visit on a Saturday morning. On these days, Elsie would hustle about the kitchen, eager to bring fresh meadow tea for refreshment on warmer days or quick to offer them fresh, homemade oatmeal cookies. The ladies would laugh good-naturedly, amazed with Elsie’s insistence on serving them when it was their intention to give Elsie a break for an hour or so.
“No time for a break,” she would explain softly. She didn’t finish the sentence but they knew what she meant. After her mamm passed, she thought, then I can take a break.
“You’re wearing yourself out, Elsie,” her bruder complained. “You need to rest.”
“Nee,” she retorted without so much as a second thought. “Mamm never rested when we were kinner, ain’t so? She was always there for us. I need to be there for her now.”
Stephen had merely frowned at her. “You are always there for everyone, Elsie.”
And then came the day…
Her mamm was feverish but more coherent than in days past. Elsie was placing ice chips on her lips and talking with her, asking her mamm if she wanted a cool cloth on her head or if she needed to use the toilet. Her mamm reached out a weathered and tired hand, placing it on Elsie’s arm. The gesture caused Elsie to stop talking and cease fussing over her mamm.
“Elsie,” her mamm whispered.
“What is it, Mamm? More chips? Or, mayhaps, some applesauce?” She reached for the plastic cup of crushed ice that she had on the metal folding table by her mamm’s bedside.
“Stop. You worry too much about everyone else,” her mamm said, her voice thick and raspy. “When will there be time to worry about yourself, Dochder? Soon enough will that time come that you must let others care for you for a spell.”
“Mamm?” Elsie asked, confused. Her mamm never spoke like that to her.
“Don’t fight others caring for you anymore,” her mamm whispered, the words barely audible.
Those were the last words that her mamm ever said to her. Not even an hour later, she fell into a sleep, a sleep that never ended and one that left Elsie stunned as she stared at the shell of woman that looked so peaceful in death. She was well into her 70s. Her death shouldn’t have come as a surprise and certainly not as a shock. But Elsie felt an emptiness grow inside of her as she stared at her mamm. She didn’t even call for Stephen to tell him. She sat there, holding the now cold hand of her mamm, knowing that once she’d let go, she’d never feel it again.
“Elsie?”
Rachel Ann’s voice startled her out of her remembrance. Snapping back to the present, she gazed at the young woman before her. She was so full of life and love, optimism and hope. Had Elsie ever had such joy in her life?
Indeed, she thought, probably not. When she was younger, she took care of the younger kinner. When she was older, she took care of her siblings’ children. As she aged, she began to care for her older parents. Finally, it was Stephen’s needs that she tended until, at last, there was no one left to care for. No one, she realized, but myself.
“I’m sorry,” she said, shaking her head. “I must be getting ferhoodled in my old age.”
Rachel Ann gave her an understanding smile. “It’s getting late. You must be tired. I didn’t mean to take up so much of your time, chatting about the going-ons at my house and about my kinner! But you let me just clean up these dishes, lickety split!”
“I can help,” Elsie said meekly, still shaken by the memory of her mamm’s last words.
“Of course you can,” Rachel Ann said, stressing the word can. “But you let me take care of this. And I still want you to consider coming over tomorrow for Christmas supper. No gut being alone on Christmas.”
There was that word again: alone. Elsie knew that the opposite of alone meant being with people, lots of people. And that meant she was infringing on other’s quality time with their family. It wasn’t their fault that she didn’t have family left anymore, she thought with sorrow in her heart. Yet, for just a moment, she wondered what it would be like to accept such offers of kindness.
“That’s not my fate,” she whispered.
Rachel Ann looked up from the soapy water in the kitchen sink. “What’s that, Elsie?”
Shaking her head, Elsie forced a meek smile. “Nothing, Rachel Ann. Just getting tired, tis all.” As if on cue, the clock in the sitting room rang eight times.
“Goodness me!” Rachel Ann exclaimed as she glanced at the battery operated clock on the stove. “Look at the time! I didn’t realize it was so late! You go on get yourself ready for bed, if that’s what you want. I’ll just let myself out, then.”
That was the last thing Elsie wanted. Going to bed early meant she would wake up early. She’d be waking up alone for the first time on Christmas Day. There was nothing she dreaded more than that. Certainly there would be no visitors. Everyone would be busy sharing a warm Christmas breakfast with their own families, whether it was a simple fare of eggs and toast for those struggling to make ends meet or a more elaborate breakfast for those who were better established.
Chapter Five
It was the middle of the night when she woke up. The room was dark and quiet. She was alone.
Or was she?
For a long time, she laid in bed and listened to the quiet. No noise. No movement. Nothing.
Then, she heard it. The gentle tick, tock, tick tock of the clock in the sitting room. At first, it was soft, barely audible. But as the quiet faded away, the noise grew louder until she felt as if she was in the same room with the clock. Clearly, she thought, there is no more sleep for me this evening.
Pushing back the quilt, she sat up and eased her legs over the side of the bed. The air in the room was surprisingly warm, not cold as it normally would be in the middle of a December night. She purposefully kept the house cold at night as she found that she slept better that way. But not tonight. Tonight, as she has predicted, she had gone to bed too early and now she was wide awake, in the dark, on an early Christmas morning…and alone.
“Oh help,” she muttered to herself.
Elsie? Elsie? Can you get up? Can you hear me?
She blinked in the darkness. Where did that memory come from? That voice?
Call for help.
She shut her eyes and concentrated. She searched the depths of her memory. Had she ever needed anyone to call for help? Oh, she had been sick in her day. A cold here, a flu every few years. But she had never needed “help.” Where was this memory hiding in her past? She frowned and tried to dust the cobwebs from her brain. But nothing came to mind.
I just found her here. She was alone.
It was a male voice. A young male voice, at that. Familiar but yet, she couldn’t place it. At least not at first.
We had told her to let us take care of her, the voice said.
Now that voice was recognizable, even despite the grief: It was Menno’s.
“Stop!” Elsie exclaimed out loud, a bead of sweat suddenly appearing on her forehead. She felt hot, wishing for a moment that she could step outside and let the coldness of the Christmas Eve night wash over her, cooling her and er
asing the memories that were so daunting and sad.
Quickly, she stood up and reached for her robe. Covering her shoulders, she hurried to light the lantern on her nightstand by dragging a match against the strike pad that she kept on the wall right by the door. The flame whispered as it cast a glow in the room, which only grew as she lifted the glass hurricane and lit the wick. Waving the match, she made certain it was out before she set it in the small glass bowl that she kept on her nightstand for just that purpose.
Alone?!
A different voice repeated that offending word. She suddenly realized how horrible that word sounded. Alone. It reverberated in her head. After all of these years, was that what she had to look forward to? Being alone? Being haunted by memories of the past and visions of the future? It was certainly not an appealing thought.
Elsie clenched her teeth and grabbed the lantern, hurrying out of the bedroom. The realization that senility was starting to set in frightened her. She hoped that leaving the bedroom would make it go away. What would happen to her, she wondered, if she told anyone that she was hearing voices talking about her at night?
In the kitchen, she put water in her dented silver kettle and placed it on the stove. Flipping the knob, she listened to the hissing noise of the flame emanating from the stovetop. It was a reassuring noise. Something she was used to. Anything to get the echoes of the word alone out of her head, she thought.
When had it gotten to this point? Why was she the last of the family and the one to face a future of loneliness on her own? Everyone else had passed away, gone to meet the heavenly Father, while she was left behind to wake up to an empty house and a deep silence that was only broken by the whisper of words in her head.
She stood at the back kitchen window, staring out at the farmer’s field behind her house. In the moonlight, it looked silvery blue with shadows casting over the empty fields. On the horizon, just barely, she could make out the outer buildings, the dairy barn and the horse stables. The house was smaller and completely dark except for one light, a simple glow from an upstairs window, a glow that seemed to grow brighter as she was watching it.