An Amish Second Christmas

by Beth Wiseman

  “I am.”

  He half-smiled. “You know how contradictory you sound?”

  She shrugged. “That’s me, one big contradiction.”

  “Nee, you’re not.” He moved toward her. “I’ll take you home. You’ll feel better tomorrow.”

  She shook her head. “I’ll walk. I need to clear mei head before I get home.”

  He pulled open a drawer underneath his worktable and gave her a flashlight. “Then at least take this. And keep mei coat. I’ll get it from you later.”

  She nodded and took the flashlight. She spied the clock again. “This is unusual,” she said, examining the tarnished silver. She loved old things. Every scratch, dent, and imperfection carried a memory. “It’s very schee.”

  “You think?” He picked it up. “Looks neglected to me.”

  “Not neglected. Full of history.” She glanced at him. “Are you restoring it?”

  He nodded and placed the clock back on the bench.

  “Then it will be even more beautiful when you’re finished.” Able to genuinely smile now, she ran her hand down his arm and linked her pinkie with his. “Thanks again, Nathaniel. You’re always here when I need you.”

  “It’s what friends are for, ya?”

  “Ya.” Her smile dimmed as she released his finger. A thick lump formed in her throat. She couldn’t believe that in less than a month they would be saying good-bye. Before the tears started and she embarrassed herself, she turned to leave.

  “Anne Marie?”

  The softness in his voice stopped her. When she saw his outstretched arms, she didn’t hesitate to walk into them. How did he know she needed this? Because he knows me better than anyone.

  “We’ll figure this out.” He rubbed his hand over her back. “Promise.”

  She closed her eyes and leaned against him, hearing the beat of his heart through his home-knitted sweater, waiting for the steady rhythm to comfort her. But despite his promises and the comfort of his strong embrace, she couldn’t be hopeful. After tonight, nothing would ever be the same—including their friendship.

  Almost an hour later, chilled to the inside of her bones, Anne Marie walked into her house. Through the darkness, a pale yellow gaslight shone from the kitchen.

  She paused, weary but steeling herself for the scolding. But when she entered the kitchen, Mamm jumped up and ran to her. “I was just about to send Jonah and Christopher to find you.” Her mom hugged her. “Please, Anne Marie. Don’t do that again.”

  Anne Marie plopped down in the chair and nodded, snuggling into Nathaniel’s coat, relieved that her mother wasn’t angry, even though she deserved to be. Anne Marie inhaled, breathing in his scent that infused the wool and remembering the hug they’d shared.

  “Do you want kaffee?” Mamm asked. “Maybe some chamomile tea?”

  “You’re not mad at me?”

  Mamm joined her at the table, shaking her head. “I understand why you left.”

  “I shouldn’t have been gone so long.”

  “You were at Nathaniel’s, ya?”

  She nodded.

  “That’s why I wasn’t that worried.” Her mother laid her hands in her lap and looked down at the table. “I told Jonah and Christopher about Thomas.”

  Anne Marie fingered an empty peppermint candy wrapper in Nathaniel’s coat, not saying anything.

  “Christopher seems okay with it, but you know him. He’s always been easygoing. Jonah, on the other hand . . .” She looked up at Anne Marie and sighed.

  Anne Marie didn’t know what to say. Had she expected all of them to be happy to leave the only home they ever knew? “Where’s Jonah?”

  “In the barn. He needs some time, just like you.” Her mother looked tired. “I know you all are upset. But I really want you to give Thomas a chance. You don’t understand what it’s been like . . . I’ve been lonely since your daed died. Thomas has brought a light to mei life that I thought was snuffed out long ago. He’s an answer to prayer. Not the way I expected because I never thought I’d leave Paradise. But God doesn’t work according to our plans.”

  What about my plans? Why do I have to give up everything? Guilt stabbed at her again for being so selfish. Yet she couldn’t help it. She stood. “I’m going to bed.”

  Her mother gave her one last look, then nodded.

  Anne Marie went upstairs to her room and lay down on the bed, not bothering to take off her kapp or Nathaniel’s coat. She fingered the wool lapels, drawing them closer to her face. Her mother was right about so many things. Anne Marie could have her candle business in Walnut Creek. She could come back and visit her aunt Miriam and her other friends. Her life wouldn’t end if she left Paradise. She knew that to be true.

  So then why did it feel that way?

  Nathaniel tried to concentrate on repairing the simple alarm clock in front of him, but he couldn’t focus. He kept remembering the way Anne Marie felt in his arms—fragile, vulnerable, yet comforting. He gripped a small screwdriver. He had tried to cheer her up by talking about letters and visits. But he’d lied. The idea of her leaving, of her not being a part of his life . . . how was he supposed to accept that?

  The alarm clock went off in his hands, the shrill noise making him jump. He searched for the switch to turn it off. When that didn’t work, he pried the batteries out—something he should have done beforehand.

  “Nathaniel? Are you all right?”

  He glanced over his shoulder at his father and forced a nod.

  “You seem distracted.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Does it have something to do with Anne Marie being here last night?”

  Nathaniel turned to face his dad. “How did you know she was here?”

  “Yer mamm told me. Somehow she manages to know everything.” His father stood, slowly straightening his back. He slid a thumb underneath one of his suspender straps. “Why didn’t you invite her inside?”

  Nathaniel turned his attention back to the alarm clock. “We needed to talk.”

  “How about you? Do you need to talk?”

  Nathaniel stared at the alarm clock. What good would it do to talk about it? Anne Marie was leaving. Nothing he could say would change that. And nothing could fill the emptiness that started to grow inside him the moment Anne Marie told him she was moving.

  “Let me know if you do.” The tread of his father’s work boots thumped on the floor as he left the workshop.

  Nathaniel went back to fixing the clock. After the third time the screwdriver slipped off the screw, he gave up and shoved the alarm clock away.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “I’m sorry,” Aenti Miriam said over her daughter’s squalling. “The boppli is always hungry. Junior’s appetite was never so big.” She lifted the corner of her mouth. “Nor was his cry.”

  “She has a strong pair of lungs.” Anne Marie faced Junior in his high chair and tried to get him to eat a piece of cubed ham.

  Miriam sat in a chair in her kitchen and settled into feeding the baby. When Junior finally started eating and the baby stopped crying, Anne Marie glanced at her aunt.

  “You didn’t come over here to feed mei sohn,” Miriam said.

  “I need to spend as much time with him as possible. And with you.” She looked at her tiny cousin. “I don’t even know her,” she whispered.

  “Anne Marie.” Miriam touched her hand. “It will be all right.”

  “That’s what everyone tells me.” She sighed. “Did you know about Thomas?”

  “Nee. Lydia has always been a private person. We didn’t know she was dating your daed until they had announced their engagement.”

  Anne Marie nudged the sippy cup toward Junior. Keeping an engagement secret wasn’t all that unusual in their community. The reminder made her mother’s secretive behavior make more sense. But it didn’t make the situation any easier to accept. Junior picked up the sippy cup full of milk and started to drink. “Mamm says you’re fine with us moving,” Anne Marie said.

  Her aunt
frowned. “I wouldn’t say fine. I understand, though.” She looked at Anne Marie, her expression sympathetic. “I’ll miss all of you. But we can write to each other—”

  “And visit. I know.” She turned to her cousin and touched the brown hair that flipped up from Junior’s bangs. He shoved a cheese-flavored cracker in his mouth. “It won’t be the same.”

  “True, it won’t. But I haven’t seen your mamm this happy in a long time.”

  Neither had Anne Marie. Since telling them about Thomas, her mother was more productive and chattier than ever, even humming while she was putting the bindings on her cookbooks.

  Anne Marie couldn’t say the same thing for herself. She had stacks of Christmas candle orders to fill, a few for specialty carved candles that took extra time to make. Yet instead of working on them, she was here with her aunt. She had to cherish every minute she had left in Paradise.

  She had thought she would have seen Nathaniel over the past couple of days, but he hadn’t been able to come to their usual Sunday game night and he hadn’t stopped by. She still had his coat, although she knew he had another one. Still, she should have dropped it off at his house but she’d taken to snuggling with it at night. Part of her felt foolish for doing something so sentimental. Yet she couldn’t bear not to have something of his with her as she tried to sort out her feelings.

  She would miss Aunt Miriam and her family. She would miss Ruth and her other friends. But the ache in her heart that appeared every time she thought of leaving Nathaniel . . . that was new, and more painful than anything else.

  “Anne Marie?”

  She turned to look at her aunt again. “Sorry.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “Just distracted, thinking about everything.”

  “There’s a lot to think about.” She removed the blanket covering the baby. Little Leah was sound asleep, her pink, heart-shaped mouth still puckered in a tiny O shape. “Your grandparents are happy living in Indiana. They say it’s a new chapter in their lives.”

  “I don’t want a new chapter.” She sighed. One look from Aunt Miriam confirmed what Anne Marie already felt—she was being immature. “I do want Mamm to be happy. I just don’t want to leave Paradise.”

  “I understand.”

  Everyone kept saying that, but Anne Marie had her doubts. She started to bite her fingernail, caught herself, and put her hands in her lap. “If you had moved away, you wouldn’t have married Seth.”

  She adjusted the baby in her arms. “Ya. But I would have trusted that God had someone else for me.”

  “So it’s that simple?”

  Miriam paused. “Nee,” she said softly. “I would be lying if I said it was.” Her aunt’s eyes grew wistful. “I wasn’t sure I’d ever get married. I never thought I would be with someone as wonderful as Seth.”

  “But why? You and Onkel Seth are perfect for each other.”

  “I know that now, but at the time I didn’t think so.” She glanced down at her infant daughter. “I didn’t think I deserved him, or anyone else.” She looked back at Anne Marie. “But that was mei own insecurity, mei own lack of trust and belief. So, nee, I wouldn’t have trusted God. Not that easily, not at that time.”

  Anne Marie wiped the crumbs off Junior’s face, feeling touched by Miriam’s admission. At least her aunt was being honest.

  “Are you upset about leaving Nathaniel?” Aunt Miriam asked.

  “Nathaniel?” Anne Marie lifted Junior out of the high chair. For some strange reason heat crept up her neck. “Why would you bring him up?”

  “We were talking about Seth and I just assumed . . .” She shook her head. “Never mind.” Aunt Miriam smiled. “I know you can’t see it now, but this might be part of God’s plan. I’m sure He has gut things in store for you in Ohio. Maybe you’ll meet your future husband there.”

  Anne Marie frowned. “I’m not looking for a husband.”

  Miriam leaned closer, her gaze intense. “Maybe because Nathaniel’s in the way?”

  Anne Marie settled Junior in her lap, not looking at her aunt. “What do you mean?”

  “It’s one thing that you were friends with Nathaniel when you were children. But you’re adults now. And if there’s nothing romantic between you, then it’s time to let each other geh.”

  She smoothed a wrinkle out of Junior’s shirt. “It’s not like I have a choice anymore.”

  “That could be God’s point.”

  Anne Marie’s head snapped up. “He wants to break up a lifelong friendship? How is that gut for me?”

  “To make you move from childhood to adulthood. You need to put childish things behind you. Nathaniel, nice mann that he is, is part of that. It’s time to grow up, Anne Marie.”

  Anne Marie rested her chin on Junior’s head. Was her aunt right? No one could argue she’d been acting like a child about the move, and she was ashamed of that. She was twenty years old. An adult. Yet she couldn’t see how sacrificing her friendship with Nathaniel was in God’s plan. How could she give up the most important person in her life?

  That evening, Anne Marie helped Mamm with supper. Neither one spoke as they prepared the pork chops, creamy noodles, and sweet potatoes. When the pork chops were almost done, her mother finally said, “Did you have a nice visit with Miriam?” She began to slice a half loaf of bread.

  Anne Marie tensed, her mind still filled with her aunt’s advice. “Ya.”

  “Leah is doing well?”

  “Everyone is fine.” She continued scrubbing the bowl she’d mashed the sweet potatoes in.

  “Anne Marie.” Her mother put her hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “You’re going to clean the finish right off that bowl.”

  “What? Oh, sorry.” She rinsed it and put it in the drainer to dry.

  Mamm stepped to the side, picked up the bowl, and ran a dry towel over the outside. “Christmas is in less than a week. Could you at least pretend to enjoy the holiday? I can’t have both you and Jonah moping around.”

  A heavy weight pressed against her chest. Miriam and Mamm were right. She had to accept the wedding, the move, everything. She handed her mother a large metal spoon. “Don’t worry. I won’t put a damper on Christmas.” She managed a smile. “You know it’s my favorite holiday.”

  Her mother set down the dish and hugged her. She stepped back and wiped the tears from her eyes.

  “Why are you crying?”

  “I’m happy, Anne Marie. It tore mei heart out that you were so upset.”

  Anne Marie was surprised. Her mother hadn’t seemed upset the past couple of days. Then again, lately she’d hidden her feelings well. A lot better than Anne Marie had.

  “I’m so glad to have your support. And I know Jonah will come around.” Mamm smiled through her tears. “You’ll come to love Thomas. He’s a wonderful mann.”

  Anne Marie hugged her mamm. “If you love him, he must be.”

  Later that night, Anne Marie entered her room to prepare for bed. She removed her kapp, unclipped her hair, and let her braid fall over her shoulder. She turned and saw Nathaniel’s coat lying on her bed. She’d slept with it for the past couple of nights, drawing warmth and comfort from it. She picked up the garment and ran her fingers over the stitching. She noticed the small dark stain on the edge of one cuff, and realized the elbows were starting to wear a little thin. She squeezed the fabric one more time before taking a breath, then hung the coat up in her closet and shut the door. Tomorrow she would make sure Nathaniel got it back.

  It was time to move on.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The next morning, Anne Marie had just finished cleaning up the breakfast dishes when she heard a knock on the back kitchen door. She opened it to see Nathaniel standing there. “Can I come in?” he asked.

  Her body tensed. What was wrong with her? She’d prayed last night for God to help her let go of the past, her close friendship with Nathaniel at the top of the list. She asked Him to help her see the move as a fresh start. An adventure, like Aenti Miriam sai
d. She thought she’d succeeded. But seeing him after they’d been apart for a couple of days brought unexpected feelings—both old and new—flooding over her.

  There was no denying he was attractive. He always had been, even as a little boy. And he’d grown into a cute—no, make that handsome—mann. Yet Nathaniel’s looks were the last thing she noticed about him—until now. Her heart fluttered as she looked at his lips. She glanced away, her face heating.

  “I, uh, came to get mei coat,” he said. He shifted from one foot to the other, not looking at her.

  He was acting as awkward as she felt. So this was how it was going to be between them? She already missed their closeness, and she hadn’t even moved away yet. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have kept it so long.”

  “It’s okay. I have this one.” He tugged on his jacket, which was a thinner version of the one she was borrowing. “You know the real cold weather doesn’t set in around here until January anyway.”

  She wouldn’t be here in January. The frown on his face showed that he was thinking the same thing.

  “Anne Marie, I’m sorry—”

  “I’ll get your coat.” She fled the kitchen and ran to her room, opening the closet door where she’d left the coat last night. She didn’t linger over it. She grabbed it off the hanger and dashed back to the kitchen.

  “Here,” she said, thrusting the garment at him.

  “Danki.” He took it from her but didn’t move. A moment later he sat down at the kitchen table. She threaded her fingers together and rocked back and forth on her heels.

  “Can we talk for a minute?” he asked.

  She sat down across from him. “What about?”

  He leaned forward. “I didn’t come here just to get mei coat. I wanted to see how you were doing.”

  “I’m fine.” She straightened and forced a smile. “I’m seeing this move as an adventure.” She gritted out the last word.

  “Oh. Gut.” He rubbed the palm of his hand back and forth on the table. “I’m glad you’re okay with it.”

  “Ya.”

  “And like I said, our friendship isn’t going to change.”