by Susan Rohrer
Aunt Hope inhaled. “Sounds heavenly.”
Charity sighed, recalling the aroma. “Of course, Dat, he saw me eyeing that piece of pie. He told me it was my choice. I could eat it first, if I wanted. I admit I started to, but when I was just about to take a bite, he got that little smile Dat sometimes gets. You know, Aunt Hope?”
“Sure do,” she smiled.
Charity resituated the uniform. “Anyway, what Dat told me was that the pie would taste even sweeter if I saved it for the right time.”
Aunt Hope nodded with recognition. “Same way Oma introduced ‘the talk’ to Nathan and me. Only it was rhubarb pie. Nathan was very big on rhubarb.”
Charity glowed. “Still is.”
Leanne kept on painting, a vexed expression wrinkling on her lips. “Well, you know, your whole waitin’ bit, that’s real folksy and all, but I still think it’s weird.”
Mercifully, silence reigned. What more could be said? What a relief to just return to her hemming. With each stitch, Charity continued to ruminate on the conversation. Daniel certainly had been quick to state his view that kissing was permissible during Rumspringa. Yes, he had held her hand—more than once, now—but he had not so much as grazed her cheek with his lips. There had certainly been plenty of opportunity, but he had not taken it.
She stole a glance at his face. What would it be like if he ever expressed his heart to her in that way? Would he ask first? Would he simply draw her close? How it would come to be, she didn’t know. The only thing she was certain of was that she was finally allowing herself to feel that pull of desire.
Charity helped Aunt Hope dab her face dry with a soft terry towel. Even simple tasks presented a new challenge with only one good arm to use.
“Guess I’ll have to get the hang of doing all kinds of things right-handed,” Aunt Hope supposed. She attempted to hang the damp towel on the bathroom bar. “Sorry about that whole inquisition in there. I know how it feels to be put on the spot.”
Charity reached over to help pull the towel through for her. “It’s okay. I’m not ashamed of who we are.”
Aunt Hope caught Charity’s eye in the mirror. “I guess the truth is that I have been. Not ashamed so much as... I don’t know. I’ve only hinted about it to Ivan. Must be some reason I never told people out here who I was.”
Charity turned away from the mirror to Aunt Hope’s face. “You say was. But it’s still who you are, Aunt Hope. You’re still a part of us. That is, if you want to be.”
Aunt Hope leaned against the bathroom counter thoughtfully. “With you here, I feel that, but most of the time, especially at this time of year, it’s... I’m like Leanne said. I’m kind of out there.”
It pained her to see the bittersweet sadness in Aunt Hope’s eyes, but in a way, Charity thanked Gott for it. It provided the opening she needed. She could finally say what had been rumbling around in her mind all evening. “You know, I saw some rhubarb at the market today. It’s out of season for us, so Dat would never expect it. But we could surprise him for Christmas dinner.”
Aunt Hope lit up. “You would take it to him for me?”
Ever so gently, Charity thought. “Well, I could, and I would, but... Oh, Aunt Hope, just think how much better it could be if we took it to him. Together.”
Aunt Hope drew back. “Oh, wow. Wouldn’t that be amazing?” Chagrinned, she held up her brightly painted cast. “Of course, this cast isn’t exactly the plainest thing.”
Charity’s heart swelled. Clearly, Aunt Hope was actually entertaining the idea. “Can you imagine their faces if we rode up together with his favorite pie? And Opa...Opa would cry he’d be so thrilled.”
Aunt Hope’s face slowly fell. “Ah, Charity... Honey, it’s—”
Charity quickly raised a hand. “Don’t say no, yet. Please. Just wait. Give it time. Think about it.”
Aunt Hope dropped her head. “Okay, but—”
“Promise me. Just that you’ll think.”
Aunt Hope seemed to ponder it skeptically. “Just think.”
“Just live with the idea for a while yet,” Charity suggested.
As Daniel piled a stack of linens on the sofa, Charity dropped to her knees. A few of his curly wood shavings had fallen to the floor.
Daniel tucked a pillow into a cotton case. “I’ll get that.”
“It’s no bother.”
“I know,” Daniel answered. “That’s one of the things I love about you.”
What did he just say?
Tossing the shavings into a waste can, Charity let Daniel’s words echo in her mind. Saying that he loved things about her was not so very far from saying that he loved her. She nudged him playfully. “One of the things?”
Daniel set the pillow aside. He sat on the sofa and patted the cushion beside him. “I suppose there are others yet.”
Charity eased onto the sofa beside Daniel. “You suppose?”
“I suppose.” Daniel put a finger to his lips, then took Charity’s hand. “Come with me.”
“Now? Where?”
Daniel led Charity to Hope’s door. He grabbed her cape off the hook and draped it around her shoulders. “Shhh... I want to show you something.”
Hand in hand, Daniel led Charity up the two additional flights of stairs to the top of the building. Her heart rose with each step, as light as a feather. Where was he taking her?
“I found this earlier, while you were making supper.” Daniel opened the steel door on the upper landing, and led her out to the flat rooftop. “Okay, use your imagination. Look past the air conditioner. And beyond the electrical box there. Look way up, above all the buildings and the city lights. Pretend the glow is...like it’s a reflection of what’s above it. Just look up, at the stars.”
Charity took into the crisp night air. She tilted her face up to drink in the twinkling heavens. “Ja, well... Look at that. Same sky, huh?”
“So it is.”
“It’s almost like we’re back where we belong.”
Daniel returned an inviting smile. “That’s what I thought, too.” He brushed back a lock of hair that had escaped Charity’s kapp. His fingers lingered on her cheek, so affectionately, before returning to his side.
Charity blushed. It was hard to know just what to say. “She’s thinking about coming home with us, you know.”
“Really?”
Charity nodded. “She promised. Just to think, but it’s a start.”
Daniel was visibly pleased. “That, it is.”
Charity whispered with a conspiratorial chuckle. “I felt like Dat, putting the pie out in front of her. We’ll just let her look at it for a while yet. Take in that scent of home.”
Daniel stood silently for a moment, looking full into Charity’s face. “You know what’s home to me?”
“What?”
“You are, Charity. You have been for so long.”
“Daniel...”
“Shhh...” Daniel took Charity’s hand. Charity accepted it, savoring his touch. He looked down at their interlaced fingers, then back into her face. “It’s not just that I love things about you, Charity. I love you. I think I always have.”
Tears brimmed in Charity’s eyes. Never had she heard words like this. She raised Daniel’s hand to her face, and then brushed it with her lips.
It was impossible to miss the longing in his eyes.
“Dat was right,” Charity smiled. “It’s all the sweeter when you wait.”
“Charity... We don’t have to prove anything to any—”
Gently, Charity put a finger to his lips. “Shhh...” She stroked his handsome face. The sight of him took her breath away. Her heartbeat quickened as he quietly held her gaze.
To be sure, she had waited a long time for this moment. Now that it had come, it caught her completely by surprise. She’d always wondered how it would be, how she should receive something as intimate as a first kiss. But suddenly, at the deepest part of her, she found an undeniable desire to give that gift to him. Initiating didn’t se
em so Amish. No, not at all. But under the glorious starlight of Gott’s heaven, it did feel completely right.
She searched Daniel’s eyes. They were filled with that same longing she felt, but his posture remained respectful. He was waiting for her to be ready.
At the core of her being, she knew that she was.
Slowly, she drew Daniel close, and into an exquisitely tender kiss. Years of yearning poured from her. His lips were so receptive. So soft and expressive. It was almost...well, it was as if they were communicating in a language that neither of them had ever known. All sense of time vanished. When they parted, neither spoke. They just stood, washed in wonder, bathed in the glow of the night.
As Charity pulled back the covers, Aunt Hope marked her place in the play she was reading. She set it aside, rose from her chair, and flicked off the light.
Charity climbed into bed. “If you’d like to keep that lamp on to read, I don’t mind.”
Aunt Hope sat on the bed. “That’s okay. I know how that play ends. Very Greek. And I suppose I have enough tragedy in my life.”
Aunt Hope had definitely known tragedy. How difficult it must have been to lose her closest friend—Charity’s own mother—in childbirth. “Dat always says that you cannot appreciate joy until you have shed many tears.”
Aunt Hope ran her fingers along the holly on her cast. “Nathan knows what it’s like to lose someone you’ve loved.”
“He does.” It was a truth Charity had long known. Even as early as it was in her relationship with Daniel, she couldn’t imagine what it would be like to lose him, to know she would never see him again this side of eternity.
With her right hand, Aunt Hope set her alarm clock.
“Have you ever been in love, Aunt Hope?”
“Once or twice,” Aunt Hope noted. “Sort of.”
“Really?”
Aunt Hope set the clock back on the nightstand. “Ancient history now, but...there was this boy back home.” She settled under the sheets.
“Amish?”
“Through and through. You probably know him. Joseph Glick.”
Recognition gleamed in Charity’s eyes. “Yes, he’s very nice. He’s a good friend of Dat’s. Married to Constance. They have six children and, from the looks of it, another on the way.”
Aunt Hope situated her pillow. “That’s good. Good for them.”
There was an unmistakable tinge of regret in Aunt Hope’s voice. It made Charity feel bad that she’d asked at all. Had she touched an old wound? “I’m sorry, Aunt Hope. Does that hurt you?”
“No, no. Not anymore,” Aunt Hope answered. “He started calling on Constance just before I left. Never knew how I felt. I left because of your mother, but...he’s part of the reason I didn’t hurry back. At least, at first he was. Then, by the time I was over him, I’d kind of fallen in love with life here. And that was that.”
Charity curled over on her side. There was something so wonderful about being able to talk this way with another woman, especially since Bethany was so far away. Charity hesitated to pry, but Aunt Hope’s openness encouraged her. There was so little she knew about her aunt, and so much more she wanted to know. “So, it wasn’t Ivan...the second time.”
Even in the moonlight, Charity could see a glint in Aunt Hope’s eyes. She could hear the nostalgia in her voice.
“Well,” Aunt Hope began, “maybe it could have been, but... I guess we’ll never know.”
The faint rumble of traffic continued. It was not so quiet there at night as it was at home. A car alarm wailed insistently.
Aunt Hope shook her head. “Goodnight, Charity.”
“Goodnight, Aunt Hope.”
Though they did their best to settle in, both of them remained wide-awake. With all that had just transpired, Charity could not stop thinking. Her mind reviewed those stolen moments with Daniel, over and over again. It was a secret that burned inside of her, longing to be shared. Quietly, she whispered. “I kissed him tonight.”
Aunt Hope rolled back over on her side. “Just now? In there?”
A smile curled on Charity’s lips. “He took me up to the roof to surprise me, but I think I was the one who surprised him.”
“You kissed him?”
“So I did.” Charity beamed. “Our secret, okay?”
“Always.”
Charity felt the color rise to her cheeks. “Dat likes him as a match for me.”
It was a while before Aunt Hope responded. “I understand why that’s important. I do. But, Charity, tell me... Are you in love with him?”
“I am.” It was the strangest thing. Though she hadn’t realized it until that very moment, everything in Charity was sure. She was also certain that she wanted Aunt Hope to be the very first to hear it.
eleven
Hope swallowed hard. The Café Troubadour was humming with activity, and there she was, sporting that elbow-to-wrist cast. Normally, a horde of hungry patrons would be considered a very good thing, but on this particular day, it complicated matters. Frank would hardly take her injured wrist as good news. At least Charity and Daniel had come. Hopefully, that would offset the blow.
It didn’t take Frank long to spot her. There was even a dash of sympathy as he shook his head. Any way you sliced it, her work would be compromised.
Hope glanced over at Shep as he played a piano intro for Myrna. She raised the microphone to sing:
“I heard the bells
On Christmas Day,
Their old familiar carols play,
And wild and sweet,
The words repeat,
Of peace on earth,
Good will to men...”
When she got back from hanging up her coat in the locker room, Frank was at the cash register. He was wrangling with a jammed tape. That wouldn’t improve his mood, not on a day like this.
Silently, Hope sent up a prayer. It hadn’t been the first time that morning, but she knew she could use all the help she could get.
Through the pass-through window, she spotted Daniel. He had already started scrubbing a pot, back in the kitchen. Such a hard worker. Amish, through and through.
Charity followed at a discreet distance behind her, wearing her lengthened uniform. Frank wouldn’t be crazy about the kapp over Charity’s bun, but he’d just have to deal with it.
Light applause came from the dining floor as Myrna’s carol came to a close. No time like the present to approach Frank. She threw back her shoulders and ambled his way.
Frank fed a fresh tape into the register. He barely looked at her. “My condolences and whatnot, Hope. But did you notice we’re into the holiday rush and you can’t even tote a tray?”
Hope gathered the mangled tape and pitched it into the recycle bin. “I’ll cover the counter and the register one-handed. Charity can take my tables.”
“Our wait staff sings,” Frank insisted. “No exceptions. I told you, Charity can help in the kitchen, but sorry, Hope. There are a lot of talented wannabes lined up for your job.”
Hope shot a glance at Charity. For her sake, she wanted so much to make this work. She watched as Charity quietly took it upon herself to venture onto the restaurant floor.
Hope turned back to her boss. “Frank, please. We’ll figure it out. Daniel is a great worker. He’ll help keep the kitchen going for you.”
Frank popped the side of the register back into place. “It’s simple arithmetic, Hope. I can’t pay three people to do one person’s work. Let alone that the customers here expect their servers to entertain.”
“Oh, come on, Frank. They’ll love her. And she’ll work for tips only.”
Stubbornly, Frank headed back toward the kitchen. “Not if she don’t sing.”
Hope slumped. It seemed the battle was lost. Then, she heard the sound of a pure young voice, coming from the stage. Hope looked over, astonished. Charity stood at the microphone, tentatively at first, singing a cappella. Soon, Shep softly picked up the melody on the piano.
“Oh, little town of Bet
hlehem,
How still we see thee lie,
Above thy deep
And dreamless sleep,
The silent stars go by.”
Halfway through the kitchen door, Frank stopped in his tracks. Slowly, he turned back. Hope watched breathlessly as he scanned restaurant’s service floor, monitoring his customers’ faces.
Normally, chatter continued when other staffers sang. This time, conversations ceased. Diners turned in their seats. They were all rapt on Charity, especially Hope. She did glance toward the kitchen briefly, in time to see Daniel as he stepped to the pass-through window. His gaze was so intent. It was also impossible to read.
Sitting at the counter, Goldie shot a cynical smirk Hope’s way. “Touching, but so not secular. Isn’t there an ordinance against those kind of carols yet?”
Myrna stepped in to heat up his coffee. “Last time I checked, this was still a free country.”
Hope pushed Goldie’s grousing aside. There was something that felt almost holy to her about the moment. Clearly, the rest of their customers were feeling it, too. Some began to sing along. Hope instinctively found herself wandering to the stage, adding her rich alto to Charity’s lilting soprano.
“Yet in thy dark streets shineth,
The everlasting light,
The hopes and fears
Of all the years,
Are met in Thee tonight.”
Shep smiled as Hope joined Charity beside the piano, her voice blending with Charity’s as only family could. By the second verse, it seemed the whole restaurant was singing along, swept up in the miracle of the moment.
Everything in Hope sang. There had always been something about music that lifted her spirit, but this was even more so. In reality, she was in New York City, standing on a small stage in a not so chichi café. But inside, where it really mattered, harmonizing with Charity transported her. It took her to that place where, for so many years, she’d desperately longed to be. It took her home.