Christmas Gift for Rose (9780310336822)

by Zondervan Publishing House

  “So, Rose …” Vera’s words interrupted her thoughts. “I have to know: what changed things? I was surprised to see Jonathan here today. Last time we spoke you were disappointed in him. You didn’t want to talk to him, after what he’d done.”

  Rose set her tatting to the side. “Mem didn’t tell you?”

  “Ne. Tell me what?”

  “I know the truth, Vera. I realize I should not be so harsh on Jonathan when I …”

  Vera paused her rocking slightly. “The truth about what?” The gaiety had disappeared from her eyes, replaced by a troubled frown.

  Rose straightened in her seat. The grim reality that they weren’t really sisters settled as an ache in her chest. She felt a stab of remorse for bringing it up now. I should have just enjoyed this moment with Vera … enjoyed the talk of Jonathan’s love.

  “Rose?” Vera’s voice raised an octave. She placed the baby on her shoulder to burp him.

  “The truth of who I am. The truth of my real parents.”

  Vera’s mouth opened slightly. “You didn’t know?”

  “No … I didn’t. How could I know that?” Rose felt her lips draw into a taut line. “And you knew this whole time and didn’t say something. Maybe it could have come up in a conversation once or twice: ‘Rose, do ya ever wonder why we don’t look alike? Why you look not like anyone else in our family.’ Maybe you could have told me a little about the people who birthed me. That would have been a start.”

  “Surely you remember them, Rose.”

  “Barely. Just a few memories, but for so long I thought they were just part of a dream.”

  “A dream?” Vera bounced the baby as she patted his back. “I just assumed you’d remember.”

  “Didn’t you wonder why I never talked about them?”

  “I just thought it was too hard.” Vera’s lower lip quivered. “Ne. It was more than that. I believed that you didn’t need to talk about them—that you became part of our family. I thought that we were all you needed … You fit in so well. You have to admit, Rose, that you have a special bond with both Dat and Mem. There were times I daresay I was even jealous. The rest of us came from Mem, but you were an unexpected gift.”

  “You’re jest saying all this, trying to make me feel better.”

  “Is that what you think?”

  “I don’t know what I think anymore.” An ache grew in Rose’s heart. “I don’t know how I feel, except for the sense I don’t fit in—not anywhere.”

  They both sat quietly for a moment, the ticking of the clock and the rocking of their chairs on the wooden floor the only sounds. Vera’s face grew ashen, and she looked at the fireplace with a vacant stare. Rose’s words hadn’t been kind, but they were the truth. If this family loved her, surely they should have said something more—could have done something more to help her understand before now.

  “When did Mem tell you about your family and whatnot?”

  “Last night.”

  “Did you feel as if you fit in yesterday?”

  “Ja.”

  “Then … remember that, Rose. When the ferhoodled thoughts come, remember you do have a place. You are with us for a reason. Your heart was settled here, was it not? Knowing about them doesn’t change anything about us.”

  They sat quietly after that. Rose wanted to believe Vera’s words, but nothing seemed further than the truth. She’d fit in before because she didn’t know any different. But now?

  Rose peered out the window, wondering if it was the clomping of horse’s hooves she heard coming down the road or the creaking of the breeze in the trees. After a minute she knew it was only the breeze.

  She thought again about the letter left by her birth mother for Mem and Dat. She thought too about the package Stan and Betty had left. What had been in it?

  She looked at the wind-up clock on the wall, shocked by how many hours had passed since her family had left. She stood and moved to the window. It was dark out there; night had draped over them, but had provided no warmth in doing so.

  “Don’t worry. I’m sure they jest got a late start,” Vera said. “You know how Dat gets when he and Ruth’s Samuel get talking about their childhood hunting trips.”

  Rose nodded, but the knots in her stomach didn’t loosen. Maybe that was the reason for the mounting tension—she hated for the house to be so quiet. She didn’t like her family gone and the rooms so hollow. With so many brothers and sisters there was rarely a quiet moment, but the quiet—the stillness—caused her more pain than any storm.

  If I left it would mean quiet rooms … Then I’d truly be alone. The thought was more than she could bear. How could she leave the Amish, leave her family? Even if it meant she would never know about her real family, she wouldn’t be alone. The unknowing would be easier than the leaving, the missing, wouldn’t it?

  Outside the wind picked up, and something banged around on the porch. She was certain she heard the buggy now. Rose hurried to the window and then slipped into her sweater, rushing outside. The icy air smacked her forehead and seeped through her layered clothing. She tucked the sweater tighter around herself, to no avail.

  The black buggy matched the night, but she could make out the motion of the wheel spokes turning until the buggy stopped just outside the barn.

  “Rose, yer going to catch the fright of cold.” Mem was the first down off the buggy. “Is everything all right? Anything wrong with Vera? With the boppli?”

  “Ne, everything’s fine. I was just seeing if you needed help with anything.” Rose grasped her mem’s hands in her own. She clung to Mem’s wool mittens as if they were a lifeline.

  Mem frowned and concern flashed in her gaze. “I’m here now.” She helped Louisa off the buggy, then turned back and weaved her arm through Rose’s. They walked together toward the house.

  “Is anything the matter?” Mem asked again.

  “There are things you haven’t told me yet—like what was inside the package. Mem, I need to know everything.”

  Nine

  THEY WAITED UNTIL HER OLDER SIBLINGS AND FAMILIES had left. They waited until the little ones were put to bed. They waited until Dat left them with a soft “G’night” as he headed upstairs.

  Rose pulled out one of the kitchen chairs and stood as she watched Mem sink down into the one across from her. Dat had built the long table when they were first married. He’d had so much faith they’d have a large family together, he’d used long planks without cutting them down.

  “Tea?” Rose asked.

  “Ne. Thank ye, though.” The look on Mem’s face made it clear this was not a sociable visit. The same ache as the time she’d lost a baby after the twins were born pulled heavy on her face.

  Her mother looked weary. So weary.

  “Mem, can you tell me what happened next?” It was one question. The one Rose had been thinking about again and again. She sat, running her hand over the smooth wood of the table that had hosted hundreds of meals in this growing family.

  “They were gone.” Mem smoothed her apron. “No one saw them go, of course. No one was looking or watching. Why would they?”

  Rose sat silent, waiting for her mem to continue.

  “We asked around town, and we kept asking. The first night everything was fine. It was as if you were just sleeping over. We had potato soup, and you ate more than Dat that night. We started realizing then how bad off things had been.”

  “And after the first night?”

  Mem’s lower lip quivered. “It was so hard to hear you cry. You wanted your mom, your dad, and your older brothers. And you asked about your little sister the most. You’d shared a bed with her, we finally figured out. I think you felt responsible for Daisy. You didn’t understand that she had died. Everyone was gone and you couldn’t understand why.”

  “Daisy?”

  “Ja, Rose. That was her name. Yer mother did enjoy flowers.”

  “It makes sense, then.” Rose didn’t ask about her brothers. How many older brothers did she have? Sometimes
faces had come to her in her dreams, smiling blond boys, but it was enough just to think of her little sister for a while.

  “How long was I sad, Mem?”

  “Things got better when you started sharing a bed with Vera. And …” Mem looked away. “At first we tried to keep your family’s memory alive, but ev’ry time we brought them up it just brought pain. Soon it was easier jest to stop talking about them completely. I don’t know if it was the right thing. I don’t know …”

  Rose stood and moved toward her mother. She sank onto the floor next to her. How many days had she sat by her mother’s feet as a child—just so she could be close to her and watch her mend or sew? More than she could count.

  Rose knew she should focus on all that was good in her life. That’s what this day—Thanksgiving—was about. God had cared for her and brought her into this family. She had grown and become strong and healthy in so many ways.

  “In a year’s time you fit right in and stopped asking about your family,” Mem said. “We also moved the five miles from Charm to Berlin to be closer to my parents. They both passed away the next year, but we stayed. There were many times I wanted to talk to you about it, Rose, but the truth was I forgot in a way too. You seemed mine.” Mem reached out and patted Rose’s head. “You are mine … and don’t you forget it.”

  Rose didn’t say anything. She just stared at Mem’s simple black shoes, wondering about her younger sister. Daisy. She couldn’t picture her face, but she guessed she’d had blonde hair too.

  “Jonathan … Does he know?” Mem’s voice interrupted Rose’s thoughts.

  “Ne. I’ve yet to tell him.”

  “I’m sure he’ll understand,” Mem said. “He of all people.”

  Rose knew what Mem meant, and she sank back a little. Jonathan might be able to understand, but would the community? She’d heard what they said when he’d chosen to help as a medic. She’d seen how they treated that Englischer who’d tried to become Amish. They hadn’t confronted her. They didn’t act out against her. Instead they showed only the minimum of kindness that made it clear she was not one of them. What would they say when they discovered the truth about her?

  Unless some already knew. Rose’s brow furrowed as she considered Harold’s words today. He’d thought of her while he was fighting. Thought of her rescue. She pushed out a heavy breath. No, she couldn’t think about that now.

  “The package, Rose.” Mem lifted her gaze. “Do you want me to get it?”

  Rose shook her head. There was enough filling her mind to rob her of any hope of sleep as it was. Enough to weigh on her heart. Rose released a sigh. “Not tonight. I think I’ll try to rest.” Rose stood and let her hand linger on Mem’s arm. “I told Lucy I’d help at the school tomorrow.”

  “It’s good of you to be there for your friend.” Mem rose, too, an inch at a time, as if she didn’t have enough energy to do it all at once.

  Rose hoped she could get some sleep. Sleep would keep the questions at bay … unless the dreams, the nightmares, came again. Last night she’d fallen asleep, and instead of searching the same small house—as she’d always done in her dream—she’d walked down a long, endless road.

  What had she been looking for?

  As she walked to her room, she thought about the Bible story Dat used to read to her and her siblings as a child. It was one that Jesus told about a man who’d had ninety-nine sheep but lost one. She’d never really thought about herself as the lost sheep, until now. Did her birth mother and father still think of her? Maybe so, but they’d never come back. They’d left without looking back. They hadn’t tried to find her over the years.

  Once in her room, she sat on her bed and pictured the shepherd finding the sheep, putting it on his shoulders, and carrying it back to celebrate. She’d been found. She should be thankful. But as Rose drifted off to a fitful sleep ten minutes later, she pictured the sheep still bleating with mournful cries. Even though the fold she was taken to was wonderful, it wasn’t her fold … the one where she belonged.

  DAWN HAD BARELY REACHED ACROSS THE WHOLE expanse of sky when Rose walked the mile to the clapboard one-room schoolhouse. Even though it was only 8:40 a.m., she was late and the door was shut tight. The one window was also shut tight, boarded up for winter to keep out the cold. To anyone passing by it would be hard to believe the small box was filled with a dozen children, but Rose knew that within a few minutes time she’d be surrounded with noise and lantern light and life.

  Her best friend growing up—called Miss Lucy now—had always played school with her younger siblings. She’d been a natural choice to teach and had done so since she was sixteen. Of course, the way Rose had seen her and Benjamin Müller spending time together, she guessed it would be the last year Lucy taught. Rose had no doubt by next fall Lucy would be a bride. Something she wished she could say about herself. Something she felt robbed of … by decisions not her own.

  Rose mounted the steps to the school. Tucked inside her coat was a copy of Heidi. It had been her and Lucy’s favorite book growing up, and they had often read it, and other books, to each other by candlelight during sleepovers. Even Vera—who didn’t care much for reading—would sit and listen while they took turns reading back and forth. And ever since Lucy had started teaching, that had been Rose’s job—coming to school once a week to read a chapter to the students. She enjoyed it as much as they did.

  She opened the door to the classroom, and heat from the potbelly stove hit her face.

  “Hurray!” An excited cheer rose up from some of the girls. Even the boys did not seem disappointed. One child near the front—also named Louisa—raised her hand as soon as she saw Rose.

  Lucy stood in the front of the room. She was petite and could be mistaken for one of the students by anyone who didn’t know better. Lucy chuckled. “Ja, Louisa, you can go and get Miss Rose’s coat.”

  Louisa had made it her chore every week to retrieve Rose’s simple blue wool coat and hang it on the hook closest to the fire so that it would be warm for Rose when she prepared to walk home.

  “Miss Rose!” Louisa exclaimed, approaching her. “Will Heidi be able to return to her grandfather today?” This was Louisa’s second year in school, and she had already heard the story last year, although none of the students seemed to mind hearing it again.

  Rose slipped her arms out of her jacket, and then tucked her gloves into one inside pocket before handing the coat over to her small helper. “I’m not certain, Louisa.” She winked. “We’ll just have to see, won’t we?”

  Louisa scampered toward the front of the room where the potbelly stove stood, and Rose noticed many eyes turned toward her. Others were setting aside their books and papers, readying themselves to hear the story.

  Rose took two steps and then paused. Emotion overwhelmed her as she noticed the sea of girls in kapps and boys in Amish haircuts. She’d sat in this very room for all her studies, and she’d imagined her children doing the same. But was that possible now? What would the bishop say? Would he allow such a thing as her marrying an Amishman?

  “Rose, are you feeling all right?” It was Lucy’s voice breaking through the fog of her mind.

  Rose glanced up and noticed all eyes on her. “Oh, ja.” She rubbed her hands together. “I’m still jest a little chilled, but I’m gut.”

  She hurried forward to the chair Lucy had set up for her. As Rose prepared to sit, Lucy caught her arm. “If you’re under the weather, Rose …”

  “Ne.” As hard as she tried, she couldn’t blink away a thin layer of tears fast enough. “I am gut. It’s just …”

  Lucy leaned in to whisper in Rose’s ear. “Jonathan?”

  Rose nodded slightly. That was only part of it, but she knew now wasn’t the time to explain the rest. Or ever. Could she always hide the truth? She could try, but it would be an unbearable burden to carry. Better to let it out and then deal with the consequences.

  Rose sat on a wooden stool in the front of the class and opened the book to chapter
eleven.

  “Heidi Gains in One Way and Loses in Another,” Rose read aloud in a strong, clear voice. Deep inside she wished it was the same for her. As far as she was concerned, there was no gain in what she faced.

  The chapter started with Clara’s grandmother showing Heidi her pretty dolls and how to make dresses and pinafores for them, so that Heidi learned to sew. Grandmother also enjoyed Heidi’s reading, but something was missing for Heidi. Someone.

  “She entered into the lives of all the people she read about so that they became like dear friends to her, and it delighted her more and more to be with them,” Rose read. “But still Heidi never looked really happy, and her bright eyes were no longer to be seen. It was the last week of Grandmother’s visit. She called Heidi to her room as usual one day after dinner, and the child came with her book under her arm. The grandmother called her to come close, and then laying the book aside, said, ‘Now, child, tell me why you are not happy? Have you still the same trouble at heart?’”

  The room was silent as Rose read. Every eye was fixed on her and the only sound was the soft breaths of children and the occasional shuffling on one of the long benches as two boys settled in. Lucy’s eyes bore into her, and Rose dared to glance over at her young friend between sentences. Lucy’s worried eyes asked the same question Grandmother had just asked Heidi: “Have you still the same trouble at heart?”

  “Heidi nodded in reply,” Rose read on, her eyes fixed on the page.

  “‘Have you told God about it?’”

  “‘Yes.’”

  “‘And do you pray every day that He will make things right and that you may be happy again?’”

  “‘No, I have left off praying.’”

  “‘Do not tell me that, Heidi! Why have you left off praying?’”

  “‘It is of no use, God does not listen,’ Heidi went on in an agitated voice, ‘and I can understand that when there are so many, many people in Frankfurt praying to Him every evening that He cannot attend to them all, and He certainly had not heard what I said to Him.’”

  “‘And why are you so sure of that, Heidi?’”