An Amish Christmas Wedding

by Amy Clipston

  Maybe even a father, with time.

  A morose, silent child looked up at her, his unblinking eyes filled with disbelief.

  “You have to be open to the possibilities.”

  No response. His pale-blue eyes pierced her skin with arrows of disdain and disbelief.

  He was only ten and he didn’t believe in God. Did Henry know? He had to know.

  “I promise you things will get better.” She had wallowed in her own doubt and disbelief after Ian left. Her friends and family had tried so hard to comfort her, but she wouldn’t have it. Eventually they grew tired of trying. Even Mercy, whose guilt over her own happiness sometimes peeked out from behind her smile, seemed to lose patience. “I haven’t had a family member die, but my heart has been broken. It has taken time, but it’s on the mend. Yours will heal too.”

  He sniffed.

  “In the meantime you can take your chair and place it next to my desk.”

  “Huh?”

  “It’ll give you a fresh perspective. You’ll see what I see and must cope with trying to teach a room full of students at different levels and with different strengths. Maybe you’ll see your way toward not being so disruptive.”

  “But—”

  “Move your chair.”

  To her amazement, Tommy did as he was told.

  When she rang the bell to end recess, her scholars tromped inside, sweaty and content. Their faces registered surprise and even some amusement at Tommy’s new location, but no one commented.

  Tommy sat quietly, hands in his lap, for the remainder of the afternoon. Everyone seemed to ignore the broken desk, like a pile of wood kindling, in the middle of the room. Leesa didn’t call on Tommy, nor did she ask him to do any more schoolwork.

  After she tapped the bell on her desk and dismissed the children for the day, she turned to Tommy. “You can clean the blackboard, sweep the floor, wipe down the desks, and stack your desk at the back of the room. Unless you want to put it back together.”

  “The other kinner—”

  “English.

  “The other children were supposed to do chores.”

  “Today you get to do them. What about the desk? Are you putting it back together?”

  He stood and edged toward the blackboard. “I can’t. I don’t have the screws.”

  “As you wish. Clean the blackboard, sweep, and wipe the desks.”

  “That’s my punishment, then, for something I didn’t do?”

  “Tommy, every time you lie to me, it hurts my heart. It hurts God’s heart. He has a ledger. He’s keeping track, and one day you’ll be held accountable for your sins.”

  “If you’re trying to scare me, it won’t work.”

  “Get busy. I have papers to grade.”

  Half an hour later, Tommy’s chores finished and Leesa’s papers graded, she closed the school door behind them and led the way down the steps and across the playground. “It’s a beautiful day for a walk.”

  “I know my way home.” For the first time, a slight quiver ran through the words. “You don’t have to walk with me.”

  “I do. I have to speak with Henry.” Leesa shielded her eyes from the sun with both hands. “Maybe we’ll see a moose again. My bruders saw a bear on Saturday. It took one look at them and scooted into the woods.”

  “You don’t have to tell Henry. I won’t do it again.”

  Tommy’s bravado had disappeared. He looked . . . not scared but uncomfortable.

  “Won’t do what?”

  “Whatever you think I done.”

  “So you won’t admit to it and repent?”

  “Nothing to repent.”

  “Let’s go.”

  Unlike their first walk, this one was made in almost complete silence. Leesa stopped trying to engage him in conversation. After a long day indoors, the sun felt wonderful on her face, and the breeze dispelled the cobwebs splayed over her tired, sticky brain.

  With each step she prayed. What if Tommy fell ill and died tomorrow? Could little boys go to hell before they had a chance to live long enough to understand the beauty of God’s creation, His saving grace, and His love for all His children?

  Gott, don’t take him yet, please. Give him a chance to be redeemed. Let Henry and me find a way to reach him. Let our community embrace him. We need a bit of time, if You don’t mind.

  It had been a long time since she prayed for someone else’s needs. Gott forgive my selfishness, my self-absorption, my self-pity, my small-mindedness.

  Soon Henry’s cabin came into view. He was sitting in a faded lawn chair in front of the house. Next to him, propped up on a kickstand was a bicycle just the right size for a boy like Tommy.

  Leesa waved. He waved back and stood. “I figured Tommy knew his way now.”

  “He does.” She studied the bicycle. It was shiny and blue with the wide tires of a mountain bike. “I need to speak with you.”

  Tommy’s mouth had dropped open. He touched the chrome fender with one gentle finger. “Who’s this for?”

  Henry scooped up an old blanket from the back of the lawn chair and threw it over the bike. “That depends on what your teacher has to say. Go inside and get yourself a snack.”

  After one last longing look at the bicycle, Tommy did as he was told. An amazing feat unto itself.

  “What did he do?”

  Leesa summarized the afternoon’s events.

  His face a block of stone, Henry paced. Dodger rose from the porch and joined his master in wearing a path in the sparse, brittle grass.

  When she finally paused, so did Henry. He mopped his face with one hand and shook his head. “So now you know too.”

  “You knew he claims to be a nonbeliever?”

  “He told me right off. He refuses to pray. I had to drag him to the buggy by the ear on Sunday.”

  “You need to talk to Noah. As the bishop he’s bound to have some good advice, and as a father himself.”

  “Tommy’s ten.”

  “All the more reason to reach him now rather than later.”

  Henry lifted his hat and settled it back on his dark hair. “I’ll pray about it.”

  “So will I.”

  He swiveled and touched the blanket-covered bike. “I thought it might help if he could ride around like the other kinner. Has he made any friends?”

  “Nee. They think he’s funny, but he doesn’t play games at recess or talk to anyone over lunch.”

  “Can I tell you something?”

  “You may.”

  “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

  Leesa breathed a small chuckle. “That makes two of us. Some team we are.”

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t kinder on the first day of schul. I can’t imagine being in charge of all those kinner at once. I’m more of a solitary mountain man.”

  “I’m more of a kitchen woman.”

  Despite their dark waters, Henry’s eyes were filled with light. He smiled, but an unbearable sadness imbued his face. “I guess we both have our crosses to bear.”

  “We’ll figure it out.”

  His hand came up and touched her sleeve. The breeze abated. So did sound. She didn’t dare breathe. She couldn’t move.

  His hand dropped. “Sorry—”

  “I’d better go. Mudder will wonder what happened to me.”

  “Right.”

  Say something. Say something. Something kind. At the road she forced herself to stop and turn. “Maybe you could come to supper some night. With Tommy, I mean.” She made a stuttered mess of the words. “For Tommy. He could play with my bruders and schweschders and make friends with them.”

  She and Henry might even become friends. She didn’t add that last part.

  “Maybe we could.” His expression lightened. “I would like—Tommy would like that.”

  It didn’t seem likely, but then, God had surprised them with His miracles before. “I’ll mention it to Mudder. Maybe Sunday evening.”

  The light in his eyes flickered and died, replaced by s
udden hesitation. His jaw worked. He ducked his head. “He must be disciplined first. For what he did at schul today.” He swung his gaze toward the mountains beyond her shoulder, never meeting her eyes. “I must make sure he’ll behave himself before I inflict him on your family.”

  A lot of words for a man who tended to use them sparingly. Deep in her bones, Leesa knew this wasn’t about Tommy. Henry was afraid of getting close to someone again.

  She studied his angular features and deep-brown eyes. This tall, lanky man feared the same things she did—hurt, loss, and more loneliness.

  “That’s understandable.” She offered him her best smile. “Let me know when you’re ready. I mean, when he’s ready.”

  Henry blinked. “I will.”

  She could feel his gaze on her all the way down the road.

  6

  Now came the hard part.

  Henry stifled a dry chuckle as he stuck the hose in the large aluminum tub in the laundry room and turned on the water. No part of playing father to Tommy had been easy these past three weeks. True, his new housemate made a fine breakfast and he liked to do laundry—both amazing boons for Henry. But every day started with a battle over attending school and ended with a refusal to participate in nightly prayers.

  Henry’s attempts to draw Tommy out about school were ignored. Today they’d gone hiking in the Cabinet Mountains, roasted hot dogs, and made s’mores. Much of the hike passed in silence, but it was a friendly silence that gave them both a chance to think. Tommy even unbent enough to collect rocks and ask the names of the birds he spotted with Henry’s binoculars.

  Tiny steps, true, but surely they could be called steps.

  Enough steps to take Leesa up on the supper invitation? Shaking a mental finger at himself, Henry picked up a kettle of hot water and added it to the tub.

  He knew better. His decision to ward off the invitation had nothing to do with Tommy. It was about diving into dangerous waters. He liked his quiet, safe world free of heartache and the potential for loss.

  Fortunately, school seemed to be going better. At least Leesa hadn’t shown up at his doorstep to discuss any more birdcalls or collapsing desks. That was an argument in favor of accepting the invitation, wasn’t it?

  Nothing had to be decided tonight. Right now the boy needed to take a bath, pray, and go to bed in preparation for church in the morning.

  “It’s too cold. I’m not dirty.” Ignoring the mud on his faded blue shirt, Tommy nudged aside his muddy boots with his toe. He plopped on the chair next to the tub, leaned back, and stared at the ceiling. “Plus, I’m not going to church tomorrow, so why do I have to take a bath?”

  Henry added a second kettle of water he’d heated on the kitchen stove and tested the temperature in the tub. It was tepid, but at least it wasn’t frigid. Montana had finished with summer, hopped over fall, and settled into winter in early October this year. Tonight they would likely have the first frost. Forecasters were predicting some of the earliest snowfalls on record.

  But that didn’t excuse anyone from a Saturday bath. When he finished bathing, Tommy could dry off in front of the first fire of the season in their living room. “My answer will not change, so I won’t repeat myself. Get in before I toss you in.”

  Tommy didn’t move. “You can’t make me.”

  “Did your aenti raise you to speak this way to an elder?”

  Tommy’s face crumpled. His lower lip quivered. “Don’t talk to me about Aenti.”

  “Didn’t you go to church with her?”

  “She told me Gott had plans to prosper not harm me.”

  “She’s right.”

  “I prayed she would live. She didn’t. Nobody listens to prayers.”

  Not getting the sought-after answer to a prayer was enough to derail many Christians’ walks. “Our days in this world are numbered. We’re only passing through. Your aenti is in Gott’s hands now.” Henry trotted out all the platitudes that others had offered him after Vivian’s death. They hadn’t helped him much at the time, but most people simply didn’t know what to say. Like his Plain forefathers before him, Henry had squared his shoulders, swallowed his pain, pulled up his pants, and gotten on with life by fleeing two thousand miles across five states to Kootenai. “Gott’s plans can be hard to understand, but He always does what’s best for us. He expects us to bend to His will.”

  “Nee, I don’t think He’s there at all. This isn’t what’s best for me. I want to go home.” Tommy hunched his shoulders. He swiped at his face with the back of his dirty hand. “I want Aenti Anna Mae to be in her house, making stew and apple pie.”

  “We don’t always get what we want.” They were back at square one. Henry had been where Tommy was now. Explaining to a ten-year-old the honing of character required to grow into a strong Christian was beyond Henry’s abilities. He barely understood it himself. “Don’t give up on Gott. He is gut. He cares about you. You can’t see His plan yet, but someday you will.”

  Henry was still waiting. Every day he woke up, contemplated his life, stared at the log ceiling, and prayed that today would be the day he understood his purpose in continuing to exist without Vivian and the child she’d carried. And the ones who surely would have come after. Was it only to make furniture for Englishers and lead them on hunting and fishing trips in Kootenai National Forest? That seemed too shallow for the God of Moses, Abraham, and Jacob.

  “Get in. The water’s getting cold.”

  “Nee.”

  Gott, give me patience.

  “You must do as you are told. Show respect for your elders.”

  “You’re not my daed. You told me so.”

  If Henry didn’t establish his authority now, he never would. That was certain. He sucked in a breath and stalked around the tub. “You’re right, but your daed chose me to stand in for him. So now you must obey me or suffer the consequences.”

  He grabbed Tommy’s collar with one hand and the waistband of his pants with the other. “In you go.” He slung the boy into the water backside first.

  Legs kicked. Arms flailed. Water splashed.

  Woofing, Dodger trotted into the room, stared at Henry with his head cocked, and retreated.

  A second later Tommy surfaced. He sputtered and coughed. “I hate you!”

  The boy didn’t seem to have even a sprig of the humble, obedient, stoic character normally instilled in Plain children from birth. Was Anna Mae to blame, or was Tommy simply a wayward soul shaped by circumstances beyond his control?

  “I know the feeling.” Henry held out a bar of soap. “Wash your hair and don’t forget to clean behind your ears.”

  Tommy rolled over and attempted to climb from the tub.

  Lord give me strength and patience. Henry tugged the boy back on his behind. He dunked the soap in the water and rubbed the bar until his hands were soapy. A bubble floated in the air, landed on Henry’s nose, and popped. He sneezed.

  “I guess I’ll have to wash you like a bopli.”

  One hand on Tommy’s shoulder, Henry scrubbed the boy down as best he could, given that he was almost completely covered in sodden clothes. Tommy squirmed and muttered but didn’t try to escape.

  “Now you can get out.”

  If looks contained deadly poison, Henry would be frothing at the mouth and keeled over dead in seconds. Tommy stepped over the tub’s edge, scooped up a towel, and trudged from the laundry room with all the dignity a ten-year-old kid could muster.

  Weary to the bone, Henry sank onto the chair. His shirt and pants were soaked. Water trickled down the tub’s sides and pooled on the pine floor. He leaned over and let his head rest in his hands.

  Gott, if I can’t discipline this one little boy, how can I ever dare to have kinner of my own?

  The thought burst into his mind like a sleep-deprived bear awakened from hibernation too soon. Until this moment Henry hadn’t entertained the idea of ever being a parent. Not since the morning Vivian died and took their tiny unborn baby with her.

  The
hope of having his own family had died that day.

  Yet, in this moment, he could admit—to himself and to God—that he did want children. He wanted more than dark nights filled with aching, empty silence.

  Surely God would understand if he chose to dispense with evening prayers just this once.

  The night heavy on his shoulders, Henry shuffled to the living room. The wet towel lay abandoned on the floor in front of the fireplace. He picked it up, slung it over his shoulder, and kept going. The lamp in the second bedroom had been extinguished. The light from the living room allowed him to see enough. Tommy had curled up on top of the bed’s quilt, with his back to the door. His bed shirt was inside out and wrinkled.

  “Tommy?”

  No response.

  Henry leaned against the doorjamb. He closed his eyes. Gott, soften his heart. Give him peace. Heal his wounds. I promise to soften my own heart. I promise to keep trying. I won’t give up on him, and I know You won’t either. Amen.

  He stood there a few moments longer, staring at the boy’s sleeping form. His chest rose and fell. His arm twitched.

  Finally, Henry withdrew. Outside he paused.

  A small, half-muffled sob drifted through the air.

  7

  Was the grapevine in Kootenai really laden with fruit? It seemed more like a long fuse attached to a firecracker. A small piece of gossip lit the fuse, the fire sizzled and crackled its length until it united with the little firecracker, and boom! The gossip went flying hither and yon. Everyone was talking about Henry and Tommy. They were watching to see how this bachelor would do raising a boy who had problems. Big problems. Henry might be the best mountain guide in West Kootenai, but what did he know about parenting? All the women were wondering.

  These were Leesa’s thoughts as she sat on the hard, backless bench between her mother and Mercy, who’d spent most of Minister Lucas Zimmerman’s sermon with her hand over her mouth as she tried not to spew her breakfast. It was understandable. The service was at the Yoder house this morning, and Mercy didn’t want to spoil her parents’ hard work in providing a pristine home for the district’s biweekly service.