An Amish Second Christmas

by Beth Wiseman

  “So, is it hard?” Esther asked.

  “Raising kids? Yes, it’s hard.”

  “No, I don’t mean that.” Esther paused and looked down at her hands. “Do you ever worry what others think of you?”

  Polly tapped her fingertip on the counter. “Sometimes. It has helped moving to West Kootenai. Folks are more relaxed here. I don’t feel as if I have such big expectations to live up to. Also, I’m older and hopefully wiser. When I was young I was much more concerned about what others thought. I seemed to fret over everything when I just had two and three kids. Now that I have ten, I’m too busy chasing them to worry much about it.”

  Esther listened. She was surprised—pleasantly surprised—that Polly was so easy to talk with. Polly told Esther about their move to Montana, and Esther talked about her train ride here from Ohio, and the little boy who’d asked her if she was a pilgrim. They both laughed over that, and the laughter felt good.

  “I heard about your pie,” Polly said, changing the subject. “And I heard about how word got around. It seems you’re going to be quite busy baking between now and Christmas. And”—Polly pointed a finger into the air—“Ammon also said that the money he spent on that pie was worth it. He’s really enjoyed getting to know you, Esther.”

  She leaned close and lowered her voice. “In all his years you’re the only young woman that Ammon has ever brought home. You should have seen the glow on his face as he entered the house tonight with you at his side. And I caught the way he looked at you . . .” Polly let out a sigh.

  Esther didn’t know what to say. Instead, she tucked Polly’s words deep in her heart and let the smallest smile play on her lips.

  “Now, I’ve hogged you enough. Why don’t you get over there and spend some time with my brother.”

  “No, let me help.” Esther took a step forward.

  Polly waved her away. “The biggest help is keeping those kids out of my hair for the next ten minutes so that I can get dinner on the table. Shoo, shoo.” Polly patted her kapp, as if making sure it was still in place with all her busy movement.

  Esther walked over to where Ammon was sitting with the kids. He’d just gotten them settled down for a story.

  “Onkel Ammon, will you tell us again about our great-great-grandpas who came across the ocean so they could worship God?” a little girl with bright blue eyes similar to Ammon’s asked.

  “They didn’t come on the Mayflower, did they?” another girl, a few years older, asked.

  “Ne, it was one hundred years later,” Ammon said. “You’re very smart, Mary Beth, to remember that.”

  “That was the Thanksgiving story. Onkel Ammon is going to tell us a new story,” the oldest boy insisted.

  “Ja, your brother is right.” Ammon’s gaze scanned the children. “I do have a new story. It’s about a group of people who lived far away and tended sheep. Just like on your grandfather’s farm back in Missouri.

  “Out of all the people on the whole earth, the birth of God’s Son, Jesus, was told to them first. They lived in the fields and cared for lowly animals. They were looked down upon by the townspeople, yet God saw their hearts. Demut doesn’t make us godly, but humility is evidence of holiness. They depended on God to help them, and because of that, God came to them first.” Ammon paused for a moment and looked at Esther. There was a tenderness in his eyes that took her breath away. She placed a hand over her heart, urging it to cease its wild beating.

  “Humility is a wonderful trait,” Ammon continued. “It’s one that God highly values. It’s considering others before yourself. It’s putting on your apron and serving—like my friend Esther here—even in the smallest ways.”

  Esther’s throat grew hot and thick. Tears filled her eyes. She’d struggled her whole life with not feeling good enough, with not measuring up, and Ammon’s words were like a balm to her soul. She quickly wiped away the tears as Ammon fielded questions from the children about the type of sheep that the shepherds cared for, and if it was really, really cold out on those hills.

  Seeing Ammon’s simple care for her reminded her how much God must care for her. The thought penetrated her soul. You love me just as I am, don’t You, God?

  In the quiet of her heart, she heard, I do.

  It wasn’t an audible voice, but a deep knowing. Look at these children. Consider how they are loved. This is how I love you too.

  Esther looked around and noticed the wonder on each face. She felt a simple love for them even though she’d just met them. She was sure that as she got to know them better, she’d love them more. Some were loud, and at least one of them was reserved . . . just like her. But that didn’t make them less valuable.

  “Onkel?” An older boy lifted his hand to get Ammon’s attention. “Sometimes I feel as if I’m looked down on by townspeople. They look at my clothes and hat and stare. And once—” His voice caught in his throat. “And once when I was walking to school, some people stopped and were laughing at me. I didn’t wear shoes that day—not because I didn’t have them, but just because I didn’t want to wear them. And they laughed.”

  “If you read the Bible, and if you listen to the preacher, you’ll discover that what God thinks is important is often opposite of what the world thinks.”

  Esther rocked back and forth in the rocking chair and thought about her own life. Everything in her family, community, and church was set up to make God the focus, but had it? Had knowing about God and His ways penetrated her heart?

  “What do you think about that, Esther?”

  It wasn’t until Esther heard her name that she realized Ammon had been talking to her.

  “I’m sorry, what was that?”

  “Who do you think God values?” Ammon asked, his eyes fixed on hers. His gaze was intense and intimate, as if he saw a part of her that she’d never seen herself—a worthy part.

  “I think that what you said earlier was right. We don’t serve God to earn His love—it’s never worked that way. But because of love we should be honored to serve, and I think that God values a willing heart. He values someone who’s not fighting for first, but who’s happy just doing the task set before him or her.”

  “I like that answer.” Ammon rose from his chair and motioned to the dining room. “And it looks like dinner is ready. Esther, I’m sure you’re hungry.”

  Esther nodded. She rose and followed him into the dining room. She should be hungry, but amazingly she felt full. Ammon’s words, and God’s echoes in her heart, had made her very, very full.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Esther breathed out a contented sigh, and her chest still felt warm, happy from the previous evening spent with Ammon and his family. It was the second time she’d been over there in a week. It was hard to believe that a week had passed since she’d gone on the sleigh ride with him. They’d seen each other every day since then.

  She moved into the living room of her cousin’s house and realized that she hadn’t heard baby Mark cry all night. He was plump enough to be able to sleep through the night now—she always loved when babies reached this phase. The question was, what was she doing awake?

  The air inside the cabin was chilly, but she wasn’t about to start a fire in the woodstove and wake her cousin. Instead she hurried to Hannah’s thick wool shawl that was lying folded over the back of the rocking chair. She wrapped it around her shoulders and then settled onto the chair, swaying with a gentle motion.

  Esther took a deep breath and could still smell the wonderful aroma of last night’s pot roast and the bacon that she’d fried up for the broccoli salad before leaving for her date with Ammon.

  This was Esther’s first Christmas away from her family. For the last few years, she’d lived away from home as often as she’d lived at home because of the positions she took to be a maude in different surrounding counties, but during all that time, she’d always made it home for Christmas.

  For the Amish, Christmas was the most celebrated holiday, even though they didn’t put up Christmas trees and
put few decorations out. They didn’t purchase piles of presents like the Englisch. Instead, the day centered on family and kinship. Some Amish families drew names and purchased or made gifts for each other, but in her family, only the young children received gifts. Well, except for the young women in the family who everyone expected would get married soon. For the last four years, both Esther and Violet had received decorative dishes from their parents. Violet’s would be gracing her table this year, at her first home.

  Even though she wasn’t with her family, her heart felt happy. In addition to caring for the boppli and spending time with Ammon, she had practiced making her pies, but she hadn’t started making the ones for the orders yet. Vanilla crumb pie tasted best when it was fresh, and if she was going to do this, she wanted to do her best. Her goal was to make ten or twelve pies a day and deliver them right before Christmas. Ammon had already offered to be in charge of the deliveries.

  She liked having him around. Most of the time he’d just come to hang out with her at Hannah’s place. Hannah had come down with strep throat, and Esther was needed around the house, cooking, baking, and caring for the baby.

  Hannah’s husband, Matthew, had been busy at Montana Log Works, crafting log benches to give for Christmas presents, so Ammon had helped by chopping wood and shoveling snow off the porch steps. They’d chatted as she rolled out piecrusts or kneaded dough. As they talked, it was easy for her to pretend that this was her house. That Ammon was her husband. But realizing that scared her as much as excited her. He was the first man to give her so much attention, but how much did she know about him?

  As Esther sat and rocked, she thought about how she needed to get to know him better. She couldn’t let her heart move past her emotions. Her mem had done that, and she lived a very hard life, with their family having little money and feeling as if she had to win everyone’s acceptance with her notable pies.

  Esther wanted to be appreciated for more than her pies. She wanted to be seen as someone special, even though she wasn’t as outgoing as Violet. She wanted to love and be loved, yes. But she also needed to make sure that whoever loved her would also understand her, take care of her, and give her a good life. And she’d always hoped that good life would be on a farm back east. If Ammon wanted that life to be in West Kootenai, then Esther had a lot of thinking to do.

  Ammon lit the lantern. A gentle glow filled the room, falling over his mem’s sleeping form. He’d spent more time away from her lately. He felt guilty about that, but it was his sister who constantly pushed him out of the door. “Go, spend some time with Esther. Someone like that doesn’t come along every day.”

  He put a pot of coffee on the stove and then walked over to his mem. She appeared as if she was just sleeping, but Ammon knew the truth. She would never get better. There was less and less time during the day that she opened her eyes. She looked thinner too. Thinner than he’d ever seen her. Maybe that was another reason why Polly always shooed him out. Maybe she knew more than she admitted about Mem’s condition. As a big sister, she’d always taken care of her little brother—tried to protect him.

  He pulled up a chair next to his mem’s bed and sat. Tears filled his eyes as he thought about her hustling around her kitchen last Christmas. Even though there were plenty of daughters and daughters-in-law to do the cooking, Mem had made sure that she oversaw it all, getting each dish just right. They had no idea then that the cancer was growing in her body. They had no idea that it would be the last time she cuddled the newest grandbabies or tied an apron around her waist.

  Last Christmas, Mem had teased him about some of the young women at church who she’d heard were interested in him. The interest hadn’t been mutual. He wished he could introduce her to Esther. Tears filled his eyes, yet a smile graced his lips as he imagined those two women in the kitchen together. Oh, they would have been good friends.

  “Mem, I finally found someone . . .” Ammon’s voice caught in his throat. He reached forward and took her hand in his. Mem’s hands had fed babies, pulled weeds, and kneaded bread. They’d hung more laundry than one could track, but they’d also caressed sleeping children.

  “Her name is Esther, and I think she’s someone I could build a life with. I want to do something special for her for Christmas.”

  Ammon had already decided that for Christmas he’d tell Esther about the simple farm animals he carved from wood on the occasional quiet morning. Polly was knitting a small drawstring bag for him to put them in.

  He rested his mom’s hand back on her quilt, then he ran a hand down his face. “I wish I could think of something to give her now though,” he mumbled. Esther was a lot like Mem. Selfless and caring. Humble. And she loved to bake.

  Ammon sat up with a start. He hadn’t opened Mem’s suitcase once, but he’d seen Polly go through her things many times, and he knew what was in there.

  Ammon knelt on one knee and unzipped the top of the suitcase. Opening the lid, he saw what he’d been looking for right on top.

  He heard footsteps from outside and quickly stood. Polly hustled in and then quickly closed the door behind her. She stopped short when she saw Ammon standing by the suitcase. She eyed the object in his hand curiously.

  “Since Christmas is only three days away, Esther’s going to begin baking all those pies that folks around here have asked for. I was going to run over there in a little bit for moral support, and I thought that by giving her this . . .” Ammon let his words trail off. Was giving this simple gift silly? Did he want her to know that he appreciated the way she served others, or was it something more? He shrugged. “I thought it would be a nice gesture.”

  Suddenly heat poured down his limbs, and he worried that he was moving too fast. They’d spent a lot of time together over the last few weeks, but was it enough of a foundation to build more on?

  He looked to Mem and then to Polly. His sister clapped her hands together. “I think giving something of Mem’s to Esther is a wonderful idea. She’s sweet on you, you know. I can see it in her eyes.”

  Ammon smiled. His sister wouldn’t tell him that unless it was the truth. Those words gave him the confidence he needed. Ammon moved toward the front door. He put on his boots and then slid on his heavy jacket, tucking the item inside one of his pockets. “I hope Esther knows how much I am starting to care for her.”

  When he looked back he saw tears rimming his sister’s eyes. “She’ll know, little brother, she’ll know. Now get out there and win her heart.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  There was a lightness to her step as Esther approached the Kraft and Grocery. She reached the porch and noticed a layer of ice on the steps. She clung to the wooden handrail and did some math in her head. Just three more days until Christmas, but she calculated that if she could make twelve pies a day for the next three days, she’d be able to get them all done. That would leave Sunday as a day of rest and Christmas Eve for getting them delivered.

  Esther paused at the front door and took out a key that Annie had given her. It was just a short walk from Hannah’s house to the store, and she’d assured Annie that she could let herself in. No need for the store owner to get up extra early.

  They were new friends and yet the fact that Annie trusted Esther with the keys to the store amazed her. Esther felt guilty that even though she enjoyed it here, she still couldn’t picture herself making it her home. A stirring deep in her gut told her she needed to talk to Ammon about that soon. Did he see West Kootenai as his forever home?

  The first thing Esther noticed when she stepped inside the store and flipped on the lights was the wooden nativity scene set up on the front counter. Fresh balsam pine branches also decorated some of the short shelves. In the dining room white lights twinkled against the wood beams of the ceiling. Annie had been busy.

  Not five minutes later she had the woodstove going and all the ingredients for the pies lined up.

  In a large mixing bowl, she began to mix up a piecrust. She felt at peace in the kitchen. It was a space to th
ink and to pray, and the person heaviest on her mind—and in her prayers—was Ammon. What were his dreams? His goals for the future?

  Her own mem came to mind. If Mem told her once about her need to know the man she was to marry, she’d told Esther a hundred times. Her mom loved her dad, yes. But they’d met and married quickly. She didn’t understand before they wed how some of his bad habits would negatively affect their whole married life.

  Esther had just finished preparing six of the pies and had placed the first two in the oven when she heard a slight knock on the front door.

  She glanced at the clock. It was only six thirty. The bakers weren’t supposed to come in until seven. Surely they wouldn’t get here this early . . . unless it was Annie and she needed to get in because she’d lent Esther her keys.

  Esther wiped her floury hands on a dish towel and then peered out the side window. It was Ammon standing there. Esther rushed to the door and unlocked it.

  He greeted her with a huge smile.

  “What in the world are you doing here?”

  The morning sun hadn’t risen over the mountains yet and the morning was still dark. “Are you the only one in there?” Ammon said.

  Esther nodded.

  “Well, it probably wouldn’t look right for us being alone in there. Do you mind stepping out? For only a minute.”

  Esther followed him to the front of the store. He held her hand as he led her down the slippery steps.

  “Esther, I don’t know where to start. I’ve enjoyed these last few weeks. It’s been so gut getting to know you. I never planned on staying here in Montana, but taking care of my mem has been hard.”

  “Wait . . . you’re caring for your mem?”

  “Yes, she had a stroke. We’re staying in the small cabin by Polly’s house.”

  She wanted to ask more. She wanted to know how his mem was doing. She wanted to ask if she could meet her, but instead she waited for Ammon to finish.