by Karen Kirst
Oscar listened, but didn’t pay much attention, used to her prattling. He slid the coffeepot to the front of the stove and reached into the cupboard for the coffee beans. But the little sack wasn’t there. Rows of canned fruit and vegetables stood neatly on the shelves.
“The church ladies brought those, some from each of them. Mrs. Tipford said it was to help you feed the Amakers. Grossmutter…” She looked at him out of the corner of her eye, and he knew she was “mistaking” the name on purpose, but he let it slide. “She took everything out of the cupboard and put it all back in different places. The coffee is in here.” Liesl scooted off the chair and went to the corner hutch. She tugged open the top bin. “See, it’s close to the grinder, too.” She pointed to the coffee grinder on the wall. “It’s more…’fishent, Grossmutter says.”
Which he took to mean “efficient.” Her vocabulary was certainly expanding with the presence of guests in his home. He quickly ground some beans, wincing at the noise, and got the coffee brewing.
Martin came through from the workshop, wiping his hands on a towel, his cheeks red from the cold. A hot cup of coffee would do the old man some good. Oscar glanced at the clock. It was nearly time to head over to the Amaker farm to tend the chores, and he wanted to have a word with Martin beforehand.
Liesl beamed and patted the chair next to her. “You can sit here. Daddy, guess what we did today? Before the ladies came, me and Grossvat—Mr. Amaker fixed that bridle you said was broken. I got to hand him the tools, and he poked a new hole in the strap…” She went on for several minutes, detailing the repair with surprising accuracy, while Oscar nodded his thanks to Martin. Yet another chore he’d meant to get to that was now done.
The ladies’ meeting broke up. The pocket doors opened, and several of them streamed through. In their bright dresses, chattering away, they reminded him of a flock of birds. They put on bonnets, tugged on gloves, gathered belongings, talking all the while.
As he dug a pair of thick-walled enamel cups from the cupboard—thankfully, the dishes were in the same place they’d always been—he noted that Kate had remained seated in his big armchair, and someone had pushed the footstool in front of her. She was talking to one of the older ladies, holding her cup of tea on her rounded belly, clearly enjoying the company.
What was it about women that seemed to get them so happy and full of energy just by being together? Being around too many people for too long made him edgy and tired, but Gaelle had thrived on company. He poured the coffee, handing a steaming cup to Martin and taking up his own.
“Oscar.” Mrs. Tipford bustled over, tying her bonnet strings. “Thank you again for opening your home. Liesl may have told you, but if not, I wanted to let you know that the church ladies all raided their larders and sent along some canned goods and supplies to help the Amakers. And I brought some donated clothing for Inge and Martin.” She put her hand on his arm. “Kate tells me that you are responsible for her clothing. That’s so considerate of you.”
Oscar jerked his chin, letting her know he heard her.
“Anyway,” she said brightly. “We’ve got things well in hand now for all the festivities. Hard to believe it’s only a few weeks until Christmas.”
He set down his cup and headed outside to help the ladies into their wagons and buggies. They all thanked him, telling him how glad they were to see him at church that week, how they missed his wife at their gatherings. He nodded, reminded over and over why he had avoided town and church and people for so long. He felt smothered, and when the last visitor pulled out of the drive, he sighed with relief.
Returning to the house, he let Rolf inside. The dog went first to Liesl, nosing her, licking her face, checking on her, then to his water dish, lapping happily before trotting into the living room and nudging Kate’s hand. She had clearly become a favorite of Rolf’s.
Inge began picking up teacups and spoons, piling things onto the tray. Liesl hopped off her chair and joined her, bustling about, mimicking the older woman in a way that made Oscar smile but also ache a bit. Another reminder of how much she’d missed by not having Gaelle in her life.
Kate, he was thankful to see, remained in the chair, her head tucked into the wing, eyes closed. Rolf flopped onto the rug beside her.
He turned to Martin. “I was thinking, to make things easier on both of us, it might be a good idea to bring your cattle over here to my place. I’ve room in my byre if the weather is bad. Otherwise, they can stay in the pastures here, and it would save all the trips next door. Most of your cattle are coming into their dry season, so they wouldn’t be much work, and since I only have the one milk cow, and she’s a Jersey, they’ll be easy enough to tell apart. I can haul feed from your place by the wagonload before the snow flies.”
Martin frowned into his cup, but before he could speak, he tucked his mouth into the crook of his elbow and coughed. The spasm lasted for a while, and when he was done, his face was red, and he held his chest. “It is a lot of trouble for you to make so many trips to help with the chores.”
“It’s not that. I don’t mind, but it would put my mind to rest if you were able to stay indoors until your cough is better, and it would save me a heap of time if all the livestock was in the same place.”
The old man nodded. “And perhaps we could discourage Kate from needing to help with the chores.”
Oscar sensed he had an ally. “Exactly. I already told her I would see to her cheeses, though I’ll be glad when this last batch is done being turned and such and can just sit there on the shelf and ripen. I don’t want her on those open cellar stairs by herself.” He helped Liesl, who was struggling to pull a chair up to the washtub, lifting her to stand on the seat.
Inge set a plate of oatmeal cookies on the table. She had an apprehensive bend to her eyebrows, and a tentative look in her brown eyes.
“Herr Rabb…” Her voice was meek as she refilled his coffee cup.
“Please, call me Oscar.”
“Oscar, there is something I would like to ask.” She fingered the knot of the kerchief she often wore over her snowy hair.
Kate stirred, blinked a few times and yawned, stretching. She spied them through the pocket doors, and pushed herself up. He frowned. Her nap hadn’t been long enough.
She came into the kitchen, bracing her hands against her lower back. “I’m sorry. I must’ve dozed off.”
“Daddy,” Liesl said, plopping teaspoons into the wash water. “Grossmutter says we can have an Advent window here in our house, if you say it’s all right. The big one in the parlor. On day sixteen.” Liesl hopped on her toes, her braids bouncing on her shoulders. “And then people from town will come, and we will have good food and music and singing.”
He paused, a cookie halfway to his mouth.
“I don’t think Grossmutter meant to tell your daddy so suddenly, sweetling.” Kate cupped Liesl’s head. “Oscar, the ladies were organizing the Advent tour. The Amakers have always taken one of the days, and Mrs. Tipford thought, since we were staying here, you wouldn’t mind if we took our turn using your front window.”
Oscar was familiar with the Advent tour. When Gaelle was alive, their house had been one of the stops. But that had ended two Christmases ago, and he had no desire to resume the tradition. If they wanted to plan the town events and go to every single one, he wouldn’t stop them, but he refused to be included.
Liesl hopped off her chair and came to lean into Kate’s side, looking up. “Tell me again what happens to the window?”
Kate sat herself at the table, and put her arm around the child. “Every day, beginning December first, people decorate their front window for Christmas. Pine boughs, paper chains, strings of beads, paper stars, whatever they think will look pretty.” Her eyes had a faraway look, remembering. “Each evening, visitors go to the next house on the list, singing and eating good food and sharing the Christmas seas
on. One after another, houses are visited, until it is Christmas Eve night.”
“What happens then?” Liesl’s eyes were round, and her lips parted in anticipation.
“On that night, we all gather in the center of town, and the children of the town carry lovely stars they have made, and they sing songs about the Baby Jesus coming to earth to be our Savior. They walk through the town, sharing the Good News. Then we meet at the church for the Christmas Eve service, and afterward there will be hot chocolate and Christmas goodies.”
“And we all go home to wait for Christmas Day!” Liesl clapped, bouncing and grinning. “And there are presents and good food and the Christmas story.”
“Yes, and family and being thankful for all God’s blessings, especially sending us Jesus to be our Savior.” She smoothed Liesl’s hair and gave her a squeeze.
Oscar swallowed the last of his coffee, forcing down bitter thoughts. Christmas wasn’t a time of thankfulness and family for him. It was a huge reminder of his loss. And now his house was going to be on the Advent tour? He should put his foot down, insist that they keep his place off the list. It was one thing to let Inge make some Christmas food, and for Kate to help him with a gift for Liesl, but to have half the town visit? To be expected to visit them? Because he couldn’t have them come to his place and not reciprocate.
No, he wouldn’t do it.
Kate rubbed her stomach. Was the baby moving around in there? She leaned over and dropped a kiss on Liesl’s head, a gesture so natural it stunned him.
He was reminded that she had been nothing but gracious to his rambunctious daughter, answering her thousand questions every hour, teaching her through example, always kind. At a time when no one would blame her at all if she was concerned with nothing but her own future, she was trying to make things better for her family, and his.
She cast him a glance, and with a guilty start, she dropped her arm from around Liesl.
He’d told her to keep her distance and not let his daughter get too attached.
With the way Liesl was looking up at Kate right now, it was probably too late.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“What about this one?” Kate held up a length of pale blue fabric scattered with yellow flowers.
Liesl pursed her lips, tapping them with one finger, so serious Kate wanted to laugh. “No. That’s not it.”
“Well, sweetling, we’re just about out of choices. And time. You need to make up your mind.” Kate moved aside the blue calico while Mrs. Hale waited behind the counter to cut the fabric once they reached a decision. Oscar and Grossvater would be returning for them soon, and Grossmutter already had her foodstuffs purchased and ready to go.
Still, Liesl dithered, touching one fabric after another, doubt in her eyes. She’d chosen several already, but those were for everyday dresses. This one was supposed to be for her new Christmas dress.
At last, her hand dropped, and her chin lowered. Before Kate knew what was happening, a fat, glistening tear rolled down Liesl’s cheek and splashed on the floor.
“What is it, sweetling?” Kate wished she could kneel easily so she could look the child in the eye. Spying a ladder-back chair by the door, she took Liesl’s hand, drawing her along. When Kate was seated, she wrapped the girl in her arms, kissing her head. “Sometimes there are so many choices we get overwhelmed, don’t we? It’s all right.”
Liesl burrowed her head into Kate’s shoulder, hiccupping sobs forcing themselves out of her throat.
“Are there just too many choices?” Kate asked.
“No-o-o-o.”
Patting her back, rocking her slightly, she rested her cheek on Liesl’s hair. “What is it, then?”
The bell over the door jangled, and a gust of cold air came in with Oscar. Kate took the ends of her cloak and wrapped them around Liesl, who continued to cry.
“What’s wrong?” Oscar dropped to one knee, his big hand covering his daughter’s back. “Is she hurt?”
Kate shook her head. Liesl tugged away from her and launched herself into Oscar’s arms, sobbing into his neck. He held her close, rising to his feet, and Kate stood, too, feeling a failure. How had a shopping expedition for a Christmas dress turned into a crying child?
Oscar hugged her close and whispered in her ear, swaying slightly. “Shh, just tell me what’s wrong.”
“I…don’t…want…a…Christmas…dress.” The sobs nearly strangled the words, but she got them out.
“Why not, Poppet? I thought you wanted a pink dress with blue flowers.”
“You said I could only make one wish for Christmas.” She straightened in his arms, her face tear-streaked. “If I can only have one wish, I want a baby, not a dress.”
Oscar’s eyes met Kate’s over Liesl’s head, wide and a bit panicked. So Liesl hadn’t been deterred by thoughts of a pretty dress. She still wanted a baby.
Kate dug in her reticule and drew out her handkerchief. She stepped close, dabbing at Liesl’s wet cheeks, aware that Mrs. Hale was hearing every word and that Oscar had no idea what to say.
“Sweetling, you don’t know what you’re asking. Babies aren’t something you can just ask for as a Christmas present. A book or a toy or a new dress, yes, but not a baby.”
Liesl frowned, drawing back. “But I have been praying, every night. Daddy, you said Jesus hears and answers our prayers.”
Kate turned away, smothering her smile, not wanting Liesl to think she was laughing at her. Ah, the faith of a child.
Oscar puffed out his cheeks. “Poppet, that’s true. Jesus does hear and answer our prayers, but sometimes, the answer is no.” He leaned his forehead down to touch hers. “And that’s what I am telling you. No. You cannot have a real baby for Christmas. I know you don’t understand.” He put his hand gently on her lips to stifle the protests coming. “But someday you will. For now, you need to trust me. Is there something else you would like for Christmas instead?”
Her brown eyes swam with tears, and her chin quivered, making Kate’s heart break. “No, Daddy.” She buried her face in his shoulder again.
“All right.” He cradled her head, a frustrated tilt to his mouth.
Grossvater stepped into the store, bundled to the eyes in a coat and scarf. He tugged down the muffler. “Are we ready?”
Buttoning her coat, Inge nodded. Kate raised her brows to Oscar. “We got a few yardages cut, enough to start on the wardrobe you asked for.”
He nodded. “You go ahead. Liesl and I will be along in a moment.”
Mr. Hale accompanied them, carrying the groceries, and Kate took the paper-wrapped bundle of fabric and notions from Mrs. Hale with a tight smile. Outside, the cold wind took her breath away. It had snowed overnight, a few inches, and now the snow lay in hard-packed ridges and drifts, while some areas were blown clear of snow altogether by the brisk wind.
“Today I can believe that Christmas is only six weeks away.” Inge tugged on her mittens.
“All set.” Mr. Hale put the box of groceries into the wagon bed. “See you folks on Sunday if the weather holds.”
Kate clambered up over the front wheel, and when she got into the wagon, she felt a pang along her side. Gasping, she pressed her hand to her abdomen.
“You are all right, Kate?” Martin asked, helping his wife get settled on the board seat in the back.
She winced, rubbing her side. “Yes, just a twinge.” Forcing a smile, she eased down onto the wagon seat and turned. “Nothing to worry about.”
Inge nodded. “The baby has not so much room now.”
Not much at all. Another six weeks seemed a long time, and yet it was rushing by, too.
Oscar and Liesl emerged from the store, and Liesl had a happier look on her face. Oscar carried a large, paper-wrapped bundle, and Liesl had a smaller one clutched in her hands. After placing their thi
ngs in the back of the wagon, Oscar swung Liesl aboard. She hurried to sit between Martin and Inge on the board seat.
“What have you got there, little one?” Martin asked.
“It’s a surprise.” She held the little package primly in her lap.
“Ah,” he said, his eyes twinkling. “Surprises can be fun.”
Kate turned to face forward. Surprises could be fun, though not always.
“It is a good thing,” Martin continued, “that God is never surprised, though. He always knows everything. What we are thinking, what we are feeling, what has happened in our lives and what is going to happen. We do not need to fret or worry, because God is never surprised.”
“But He can surprise us from time to time.” Oscar slapped the lines and chirruped to the team.
Kate nodded. This entire last year had been one surprise after another, and not many of them what she would consider good. But, she reminded herself, God was good, and He wasn’t surprised, and she would trust, because He had never failed her.
When they arrived back at Oscar’s home, Kate couldn’t help but wonder at the sense of comfort walking into the farmhouse gave her. She felt more at ease here than she’d thought possible after that first, awkward night and morning when Oscar had made it clear he was uneasy having them there.
What about now? Would he be relieved to have them gone? To have his house back? No more trips to town for errands that were not his, no more extra chores, no more people cluttering up his life?
Kate untied her cloak slowly, realizing that whether he would miss them or not, she would definitely miss him and Liesl. Oscar might be a man of few words, but his actions spoke volumes. He had denied them nothing they needed and given them much that they did not.
Liesl marched into the room, the bobble on top of her hat wobbling as she ran to the parlor and put her “surprise” packet onto the ottoman. She shrugged out of her little plaid coat, dropping it on the floor.