An Amish Christmas Wedding

by Amy Clipston

  It took me a few months to go through my mother’s things, but then I found letters she wrote to your mother when your family still lived in Nappanee. I won’t go into the contents, as that would take many pages. Suffice to say, the letters were all mailed back unopened with Return to Sender penned on the outside.

  Of course, Mother shared the story of the quilt with me. She kept it on her bed all these years. But otherwise she rarely talked about your family. She rarely talked about her past at all. I think it was too painful.

  A year ago, then, I learned your family had moved from Nappanee—do you remember our playing together there as young children?—but I didn’t know where you’d gone. Still, I needed to know what happened to this lost branch of my family. I finally found someone in Nappanee who thought you moved to some other Amish community in northwest Indiana. But the name King and your parents’ first names are common in Amish communities, so finding you wasn’t easy. I wasn’t even sure your last name was still King. When I did find you, I learned your parents have also passed, and I’m so sorry.

  I want to apologize for the way I behaved when I was in your home that day. I was experiencing so many different emotions—disbelief, joy, relief, and even fear. I simply froze and didn’t know how to tell you who I was, even after answering your question about the quilt. And since my return home, I’ve been praying for the words to explain why I was looking for you and how much it means to have found you. Perhaps our mothers’ quilt will help. I hope it was all right to send it where I did, but I failed to note your address when I was there.

  As you can tell, I’m still stumbling over my words. I’m also still coming to terms with the fact that I, an only child, might soon have more family in my life. I’m just not sure how you’ll feel.

  I’m enclosing my phone number and address. If you could see your way to respond to this letter, I would be quite grateful. I still don’t understand all the reasons our family remained torn apart, but certainly it’s time to build a bridge across the divide.

  Blessings,

  Savannah

  Rachel read the letter twice. She had at least a dozen questions, and the expression on Micah’s face told her he did too. Chloe was watching them closely, as if she could sense that something was amiss.

  Finally, Rachel folded the letter and placed it back in the envelope. Glancing again at Micah, she saw such patience and concern that she felt tears prick her eyes. She looked left and right, anywhere but directly at this dear man.

  “Perhaps we could go for a walk,” she said.

  “Ya. A fine idea.”

  He helped her into her coat, then shrugged into his own, and called out to Chloe. She didn’t need to be asked twice. They walked down the back-porch steps and into a December day so bright and crisp that Rachel felt pierced by the beauty of it.

  They were halfway across the field before she found the words to begin.

  “I barely remember my aenti Deborah. A few years after she married, she and her husband left the Amish church and joined the Mennonites.”

  “What year was this?”

  “I hadn’t begun school yet, so it must have been more than fifty years ago. I didn’t understand what had happened, why they weren’t around anymore. I only knew that I’d lost my playmate.”

  “Savannah.”

  “Ya.” Rachel smiled at the memory. “Even her name was different. According to my mamm, her schweschder never quite settled into our Plain life. She wanted to continue her education, even after she’d had Savannah, and that wasn’t allowed. Also, she and her husband questioned parts of our Ordnung. I don’t know the entire story, only what I’ve managed to put together. You see, a few weeks ago I found a box of letters Mamm wrote to Deborah.”

  “The day I surprised you on the back porch, you’d been crying, a letter in your hand.”

  “Ya. Mamm never mailed the letters. They weren’t even addressed, probably because she didn’t have an address. I think she always intended to send them if she could ever learn where Deborah was, believing in her heart they would somehow reconcile. But apparently she and my dat were killed in the buggy accident without her ever discovering Deborah’s whereabouts. I doubt she knew how to try. I didn’t.”

  “Did the letters explain what happened?”

  “Mamm talked around it a bit. Apparently my aenti’s husband had a schweschder who’d been abused by her husband. The man left the church and divorced her, but as you know . . .”

  “Under our Ordnung, she wouldn’t be allowed to remarry.”

  “That seemed the final straw that pushed her family into the Mennonite faith, where women who’ve been abused aren’t under the same restriction.”

  Micah picked up a stick and threw it for Chloe, who dashed across the field the best she could. She might be an old dog, but she still enjoyed playing. There was a lesson in that.

  Micah stole a glance at Rachel. “Fifty years ago . . . Many communities still practiced shunning then.”

  “Many still do, but ya, at this time it was still our practice to sever ties completely with someone who left the church. I suppose my parents thought they were doing the right thing. They thought by cutting off all communication, Deborah and her family would come home, but they never did. I suspect Mamm regretted that decision once she had no idea where her schweschder was. According to one of Mamm’s letters, she’d somehow learned Deborah and her husband divorced, apparently without abuse involved, and that’s why Deborah left the Mennonite church too. She had no choice. And then she moved away from Shipshe.”

  “So they lost touch, your mamm and Deborah.”

  “We never spoke of it, and I regretted that after Mamm and Dat passed. I tried looking through their things, but I found nothing except Deborah’s and Savannah’s names penned in the family Bible. Later I found the letters.”

  “Apparently she and Savannah settled in Berne, assuming that’s why Savannah lives there now.”

  “So it would seem.”

  They continued to the far side of the field where Rachel’s dat had long ago set a picnic table under a tall maple tree. Chloe moved to sniff around the tree. Rachel and Micah sat.

  “Will you answer her?”

  “I suppose I will, after I’ve given it some thought and prayed on what exactly to say.”

  Micah didn’t push. They sat in the sun, Chloe now sprawled at their feet, and enjoyed the peacefulness of the day.

  Finally, Rachel pulled in a deep breath. “This is all so new to me, but it’s what I’ve prayed for lately . . . that Gotte would bring more people into my life.” She hesitated and then added, “As he brought you.”

  Micah reached for her hand, then cupped it between his own hands and ran his thumb over hers. “I haven’t told you how much you mean to me, Rachel, but I’d like to sometime. When you’re ready to hear it.”

  Her mood lifted at his words. She’d hoped. Of course she had, and then she’d called herself an old fool for daring to dream such a thing. It wasn’t just Micah’s affection for her that tugged at her heartstrings; it was that he was in no hurry. He was willing to give her the time and space she needed.

  She squeezed his hand and smiled her thanks. Then they walked back across the field. Perhaps that was how you knew when you were truly comfortable with someone—when you didn’t need words to fill the silence.

  When they reached Micah’s buggy, he crossed his arms and leaned his backside against the door.

  “Christmas will be here soon.”

  “Eleven days.”

  “I would love for you to spend it with me, with my family. They care for you as I do.”

  “Danki.”

  “Will you, then?”

  “I’ll think on it.” An idea was forming in the back of her mind, but it might be too preposterous to voice, even to herself.

  “Gut.”

  Micah’s smile eased part of her worries. Somehow his presence added a solid feel to her world. She stood with Chloe on the porch, watching him drive awa
y and considering just how much her life was about to change. And beneath that she wondered if she was ready for it.

  6

  Micah thought perhaps Old Man Winter was trying to make up for a temperate start. The last week had brought ten inches of snow with two different storms. The north wind was strong enough to knock a man out of his coat, and the sun barely managed to pierce the clouds at all.

  The weather didn’t slow down their business a bit. Englischers from the south oohed and aahed over the snow. Those from Canada declared the weather in Indiana was a delight. He supposed it might seem that way to them. Their home country had received record snowfall and below-average temperatures for several weeks.

  If he was worried that the weather would have an ill effect on Rachel, he shouldn’t have. In fact, she reminded him of a beautiful crocus, pushing through the last of winter’s snow. Rachel had literally blossomed before his eyes.

  She’d begun taking daily walks with the dog—even in the snow.

  At their church meeting yesterday, he saw her singing with her eyes closed and a smile creasing her face. And at a gathering after, she didn’t escape as soon as it was acceptable to do so, instead choosing to stay and sit in a circle with the others—even rocking someone’s boppli.

  The day he visited her for afternoon tea, she’d greeted him waving an envelope postmarked Berne, and she insisted that he sit and read the letter with her.

  The wound that had splintered her family so long ago had begun to heal. But he’d been surprised Savannah invited Rachel to spend Christmas in Berne—and astonished when she’d agreed.

  “I’m glad you’re going, glad you have this chance to get to know your family, but we’re going to miss you here.”

  “Danki.”

  “I mean it, Rachel.” He reached for her hand, intertwined his fingers with hers. They were sitting in the kitchen, the dog asleep by the stove, and he marveled that he felt so comfortable here. “I was looking forward to spending Christmas with you, but there will be other Christmases for us.”

  “There will?”

  “Indeed.” He squeezed her hand. “Family is important. I’m very happy that you’re reconnecting with yours.”

  “I’ll be there less than a week, so you and our tour partners won’t have to cover for me too long.”

  “Back before Old Christmas, then?”

  “I’m sure.”

  “My granddaughter Nancy asked me about Old Christmas this morning.”

  “She’s seven?”

  “Right. And she remembered us celebrating it in the past, but she couldn’t remember why it’s on January sixth.”

  “Holidays and calendars can be confusing for kinner. Remember how long it seemed from the last day of school to Christmas? And yet it couldn’t have been more than three or four days.”

  “Exactly. Well, I explained to Nancy that the wise men visited the Christ child twelve days after his birth—at least that’s when we celebrate it.”

  “And what did she think of that?” Rachel leaned forward. She always seemed so interested when he spoke of the grandkinner. He could easily imagine her being their grandmother.

  That temporarily derailed his train of thought. He got caught up envisioning her rocking the boppli, helping the older kinner with their homework, baking cookies . . .

  Rachel patted his arm. “Lost you for a minute.”

  “Sorry about that. My mind wanders at times.”

  “You were telling me about Nancy and the wise men.”

  “Right. She’s a smart one. Right away she starts singing ‘The Twelve Days of Christmas.’”

  “An Englisch song if there ever was one.”

  “I have to agree with you on that. Can’t say I’ve ever seen ten lords a-leaping. Nancy immediately insisted on going outside to look for a partridge or a pear tree. I didn’t have the heart to tell her she wouldn’t find either.”

  Rachel sat back and sighed, apparently satisfied with the story.

  “I’ll look forward to being home in time for Old Christmas, then. Perhaps we can read the story of the wise men with Nancy.”

  “That’s a fine idea.”

  He was actually quite disappointed that Rachel wouldn’t be home for Christmas, but he could see she’d already made up her mind. Plus, he honestly was happy for her. It was only that he looked forward to the day a little less, knowing she wouldn’t be there to share it with him.

  As long as he’d known Rachel, she’d never spent a night away from her farm. But in that blossoming, she was a new woman, or perhaps she was becoming the woman she might have been if her life had taken a different path. Her demeanor had changed from caution bordering on sadness to one of confidence and optimism.

  Perhaps by reconnecting with Savannah, she’d realized she was no longer alone. Or now she was too busy living life to worry about it. Regardless, he saw a lightness to her step and a sweetness to her smile previously missing. A time or two he’d thought of the woman he’d found weeping on her back porch, and when he did, he said a silent prayer thanking Gotte for his provision and care.

  But was he part of that provision? Did he want to be? He’d prayed to be part of her journey, but was he ready for big changes in his life?

  He didn’t have answers to those questions, but he’d think about them over the next few days.

  * * *

  As Micah shrugged into his coat on Christmas Eve’s eve, ready for the children’s Christmas play, he saw Tom and Naomi exchange a knowing smile. He might have ignored it, but Tom tossed the dish towel he was using over his shoulder and slapped him on the back.

  “Going to pick up Rachel?”

  “I am.”

  “That’s gut. I was worried she might not come to the play.”

  “Everyone comes to the school play.”

  Tom stepped closer. “You know, Dat . . . it’s all right if you have romantic feelings for her.”

  “It’s all right?”

  “What Tom means is that we all like Rachel.” Naomi stepped closer and brushed some imaginary lint off his coat. Then she stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. “We want you to be happy.”

  “I didn’t realize I was unhappy.”

  Tom’s expression turned from teasing to serious. “We miss Mamm. We all do, and we always will. But we also understand that Gotte doesn’t mean for any of us to be lonely.”

  Micah didn’t realize he’d been worried about his son’s opinion on the matter of Rachel, but perhaps he had been. Suddenly a weight that had been holding him back was gone.

  “Danki, son. I appreciate that. I appreciate both of you telling me how you feel.” He ran his fingers through his beard, attempting to maintain a serious expression, but it was impossible. Grinning, he added, “Danki for your permission to court.”

  “Ha! As if you needed my permission. But you know, Dat, you’re not getting any younger.”

  “Indeed.”

  “Might want to keep the courting period short.”

  Micah didn’t answer that. He wasn’t sure how to.

  “I’m just saying, if you’re sure of your feelings, and if you’ve had them for some time . . .”

  “And of course, if Rachel shares your feelings . . .” Naomi added.

  “Then now might be a gut time to ask her.”

  Micah raised his eyebrows, as if he had no idea what his son was talking about. Naomi laughed and shook her finger at him. “A Christmas wedding would be real nice.”

  “You expect me to ask Rachel to be my fraa?”

  “Ya.” Naomi and Tom nodded in unison.

  “And then we should marry . . . in two days.”

  “Might be a bit rushed,” Naomi said, admitting that reality. “But Old Christmas? Now, that would be doable.”

  “Well, thank you both for your blessing, but Rachel is quite busy at the moment reconnecting with her family. I won’t be adding to that by asking her to be my bride.”

  “You think the timing is bad?” Tom stepped closer to Naomi
and slipped his arm around her waist. “Because personally, I’m not sure there is a bad time to tell someone you care for them.”

  “When did you become so wise?”

  “Guess I got it from my old man.”

  Micah laughed at that. He remembered when he’d first called his own dat an old man. His dat had insisted on challenging him to a wood-chopping contest, and Micah had lost. Still, he understood it as a term of affection, so instead of being offended, he told Tom and Naomi he’d think on what they’d said and hurried to his buggy.

  “Come on, Samson. We’ve a lady to pick up.”

  Rachel was ready when he arrived, needing only to put on her coat and wrap a bright-blue scarf around her neck.

  “That’s pretty. I don’t think I’ve seen it before.”

  “I believe I’ve been holding on to a deep sadness for the last few years, maybe for my entire life. Even deeper lately. But now . . . well, now it’s time for color.”

  Micah couldn’t have resisted if he’d tried. He stepped closer, put his hands on her arms, and kissed her softly on the lips. A deep contentment filled his heart in that moment, and any worries he might have had fled.

  Rachel felt right in his arms. She felt as if she belonged there.

  Color blossomed in her cheeks, and they both laughed when Chloe sighed heavily.

  “That dog looks mighty content.”

  “As she should be. We shared a bacon sandwich for dinner.”

  She returned to the kitchen to be sure she’d turned off the stove. Micah followed her and looked around. The place had none of the Christmas sparkle his son’s home had. Of course, she wouldn’t be there for the holiday, so why would it?

  As if she could follow his thoughts, Rachel glanced around the room. “It was different, I think, having Christmas in such a small family. But my parents did what they could to make it special.”

  “Ya?” He took off his hat and twirled it in his hands. Rachel had spoken little of her past in all the time he’d known her, but since reconnecting with her cousin, it was as if she was also coming to terms with what had been.