A Simple Christmas

by Charlotte Hubbard

  Rosalyn reached for the doorknob and then drew back her hand. What would she accomplish by entering the empty house—especially when she was in such a negative frame of mind? After a moment she went inside anyway, figuring to rescue Mamm’s Nativity scene.

  The house felt eerily empty. Unnaturally silent.

  She stood in the middle of the gloomy front room for several moments. It seemed like a good idea to check the entire house, to see if Dat had left them any unexpected surprises.

  Except for a few dirty dishes, the kitchen appeared the same as when she’d last seen it, so she ventured down to the basement. The storeroom shelves were still lined with glass jars of vegetables and the freezer still held several packages of meat, so at least Dat hadn’t made off with their winter’s supply of food. Rosalyn’s footsteps echoed as she crossed the concrete floor to the room where her father had worked on his clocks. She stepped into the shop only long enough to ascertain that all of his equipment and clocks were gone.

  Rosalyn felt very uneasy entering Dat’s shop—because he’d declared it forbidden territory, and because he’d gambled away so much money in this room while he’d pretended to be working. She hurried back up to the main level as though ghosts nipped at her heels, and then went upstairs to peek into the bedrooms.

  Dat’s closet was empty. The unmade bed—the stale scent of his abandonment—drove Rosalyn quickly down the hall, past the room Loretta and Drew had vacated and the smaller one that had been Edith’s before she’d married Asa. At the end of the hall, Rosalyn stepped into her own bedroom and found it just as she’d left it.

  Something hanging from the post of the dresser mirror drew her like a magnet. Marcus’s faceless cornhusk angel gazed vacantly at her.

  Rosalyn turned away, torn between leaving it and taking it. She’d become so upset by Dat’s biting remarks that she’d hastily packed, not realizing she’d forgotten Marcus’s angel. If she hung the little figure in her room at Edith’s house, wouldn’t she recall that Marcus—the love of her life—had abandoned her, every time she saw it?

  With a sigh, Rosalyn lifted the cornhusk doll from the mirror post. “If ever I needed an angel, it’s now,” she whispered.

  The angel rustled, as brittle and lifeless as an unanswered prayer, when Rosalyn tucked it into her coat pocket. A sense of desperate desolation filled the room, so she hurried downstairs. After she’d carefully laid the ceramic figurines of the holy family, the shepherds, the wise men, and the animals in the wooden shed of Mamm’s manger scene, she lifted it carefully in both arms.

  As she stepped out onto the front porch, Rosalyn vowed never to enter the house alone again. Too many ghosts. Too much pain.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  As darkness fell on Christmas Eve, Rosalyn got caught up in the excitement of the crowd that was gathering at Preacher Ben’s place. The men had gone to the barn to handle the animals while the women with young children were in Miriam’s kitchen with an array of costumes for the pageant. As Rosalyn entered with Leroy, alongside Edith and Louisa, a happy pandemonium filled the large room.

  “I get to be a wise man this year!” one of the boys called out.

  “I wanna play with the sheeps!” another child cried.

  “Mama, lookit! A hat like a donkey’s head!”

  “I’m gonna be an angel!”

  Rosalyn held tightly to Leroy, who wanted to scramble around the kitchen table with the other kids. She couldn’t help laughing with Edith, who appeared amazed at the noisy energy filling the room. Were these the same children who sat so quietly with their mamms and dats during church services?

  Miriam lifted her little daughter Bethlehem from the fray. “It’s time to listen, kids!” she called out. “Everyone gets a cookie from Teacher Alberta, and then we’ll get you into your costumes. It’s going to be a Christmas pageant like no other, what with all of you here to celebrate the birth of baby Jesus!”

  When Alberta Zook took the foil from a big tray of cookies, the kids flocked over to claim one. The local teacher—Preacher Henry’s cousin—seemed shy and reclusive when Rosalyn spoke with her at church, yet she took on a sparkle when her scholars surrounded her. “We’ve already discussed who gets to play which parts this year,” she reminded them firmly. “No matter whether you’re a shepherd or a wise man or an angel, we need you all to pay attention. We don’t want anyone getting stepped on by a cow—”

  “And we don’t wanna step in cow poop!” Timmy Knepp interrupted.

  “Jah, that, too,” Alberta continued patiently. “You’ll need to wear your coats under your costumes tonight. We’ve got wise men costumes over there,” she said, pointing to where Lydia was standing. “Annie Mae’s going to help the shepherds in this corner. Then you scholars can skedaddle while we dress the angels and lambs.”

  Rosalyn was impressed with the order that emerged from the earlier chaos. Soon Levi Zook and the Knepp twins, Joey and Josh, were wearing their fake beards and slipping into flowing robes of rich colors. Taylor and Brett Leitner were donning shortened men’s bathrobes while Annie Mae tied headbands around the dish towels draped over young Sara and Timmy Knepp’s heads. Sol and Lucy Brenneman—Seth and Mary’s kids—were also dressing as shepherds as their mamm helped them.

  Rebecca stepped in through the back door to see how the kids were progressing. She beamed as she looked around her mother’s kitchen. “What do you think?” she asked Rosalyn and Edith with childlike excitement. “This is our third live Nativity, and everyone’s really getting into the spirit.”

  “I’ve never seen the likes of a Nativity pageant,” Rosalyn replied. “And such costumes they have! They certainly don’t look Plain.”

  “Our bishop in Roseville would never have allowed such an event,” Edith remarked. “But it seems like a wonderful alternative to an evening at the schoolhouse.”

  “I found these costumes a couple years ago, when we realized there weren’t enough scholars of an age to put on the usual Christmas Eve recitation program,” Rebecca explained. “It’s nothing short of magical, the way our pageant falls together and attracts so many folks from outside of town.”

  Miriam came over, smiling at her daughter. “Some of our success has to do with Rebecca’s magic,” she put in modestly. “Without her help, the pageant would consist of a few folks milling around out in the barn amongst the animals.”

  “Ah, but there would still be singing and celebration.” Rebecca slipped an arm around her mother’s shoulders and kissed her cheek. “Mamma, Wyatt and I went to church with Dad this morning, over in New Haven!” she said. “They made us feel really welcome—and most of them remembered my name even though I’ve not been there for a while.”

  “Why wouldn’t they recall a bright and shining star like you, honey bug?” Miriam’s face took on the glow of a Christmas candle. “I’m so happy to hear that. It’s my fervent prayer that you and Wyatt will embrace whichever religious faith blesses your marriage all the days of your life together.”

  Rosalyn’s heart swelled with warmth—and with memories of her own mamm. She missed her mother most of all during the holiday season, so she was eager to begin some new traditions during her first Christmas in Willow Ridge. The older kids made her chuckle as they commented on each other’s costumes—and grabbed more cookies—until Teacher Alberta pointed them toward the door.

  After the wise men and shepherds headed outside to the barn, some of the toddlers’ mamms began to dress their children in loose white robes that tied in the front with big bows. When Rosalyn saw Leroy doubtfully eyeing the sparkly silver circles that served as the angels’ halos, she reached for a gray knitted cap.

  “Leroy, we need a special donkey,” she said. “Look at these awesome long ears! And the gray sweatshirt will fit right over your coat.”

  He nodded eagerly. “Donkey!” he repeated as he stroked the ears.

  “And Louisa can be a lamb,” Edith said as she chose a cream-colored sweatshirt and a hat with a lamb’s nose and ears.
“Looks like we have plenty of angels.”

  “Lambie!” the little girl cooed as she tweaked the ears on the cap. “Me a lambie!”

  As Rosalyn fastened the knitted strap under Leroy’s chin, she saw that Bethlehem Hooley; Josiah and Lena Witmer’s son, Isaiah; and Rachel’s daughter, Amelia, were being transformed into angels. Ella, the little Glick girl, stood absolutely still with her eyes closed as her mamm slipped a hat with a lamb’s face on her head. It was the cutest sight Rosalyn had seen in a long time.

  “Are these wee ones going to sit amongst the animals in the barn, too?” she asked. She had visions of Leroy getting bored and pestering the sheep—or the other little kids.

  “They start out on hay bales alongside Mary and Joseph, or with the shepherds,” Teacher Alberta explained. “After everyone sings a carol or two, the angels’ parents usually circulate in the crowd with them to keep them occupied—and because everyone thinks they’re adorable.”

  When the back door opened again, Rhoda and Andy Leitner entered with their little Aden. The baby was already bundled up in his coat with a pale blue blanket wrapped around him. Miriam held him while Rhoda put on Mary’s blue gown and flowing headpiece. When Andy had tied the fabric belt of his simple brown robe, he took up a large carved walking stick.

  “Ben and the other fellows have arranged the hay bales, and the animals are settled in their places,” he said, “so we’re ready to start the pageant!”

  “When everyone’s in place, we’ll sing ‘Away in a Manger,’” Teacher Alberta instructed. “‘Silent Night’ will be next, and then we’ll sing ‘We Three Kings’ as the cue for the wise men to come out of the barn and join the others.”

  The children’s excitement was contagious, and as Rosalyn went outside, she was eager to watch the pageant unfold. She’d heard the story of the Nativity since she’d been Leroy and Louisa’s age, yet she sensed this evening’s rendering of Jesus’s birth would breathe new life into it because it was being played out by people she knew—ordinary people, just as Mary and Joseph had been when they journeyed to Bethlehem to pay their taxes.

  “Look, Leroy, there’s one of Bishop Tom’s cows by the barn door,” she said as she pointed to it. “And those young mules belong to Ira.”

  “Daniel Kanagy brought the sheep in that pen,” Edith put in as they headed for the barn. “And the little Shetland pony belongs to the Knepp kids.”

  Rosalyn couldn’t help smiling at the animals tethered near the hay bales where Mary and Joseph were taking their seats with Aden. When she and Edith found a spot on a hay bale for the twins to sit, she saw that quite a crowd was gathering in the Hooleys’ yard—folks from Willow Ridge, as well as people she’d never seen.

  Rebecca jogged over to the barn. When she flipped a switch, everyone looked up with an oh!

  Rosalyn sucked in her breath. High above them, a golden star sparkled in the night sky, basking serenely in the beam of a spotlight. In her rational mind, she knew it was a big, glittery balloon on a string—only a make-believe star—yet she couldn’t stop gazing at it. A lump of emotion formed in her throat and she was filled with awe. After the events of the past week, her soul was eager to believe in miracles.

  In her forlorn heart, hope blossomed. No matter what had happened recently in Willow Ridge and in her life, Christmas had come.

  It’s Christmas. In spite of everything, it’s Christmas.

  The wonder of the season enfolded her. The promise of the Christ Child lifted her spirits as the children sang “Away in a Manger” in their sweet young voices. As she drank in the simple beauty of the animals gathered around Mary, Joseph, and little Jesus, and the radiant faces of the children, Rosalyn felt transformed. She, too, was an innocent child again, unfazed by the harsh realities of adulthood.

  “Silent Night” made her cry, but with tears of peace. The crowd was growing quite large, yet remained reverently quiet. The faces of men and women alike reflected the awe they were feeling in their hearts. When the wise men appeared to the tune of “We Three Kings,” Rosalyn once again gazed up at the star.

  You’ve blessed me with so many gifts, Lord, she prayed silently. The light of Your star has shown me that my life is full and complete and meaningful. You knew this pageant was exactly what I needed, didn’t You?

  * * *

  On a hilltop outside of New Haven, Marcus stared through the windshield. “That cannot be a star,” he muttered. But he got out of his car to take a closer look.

  It’s probably part of that live Nativity in Willow Ridge. Just a show.

  Yet in the stillness of the winter night, Marcus sensed that something much larger was taking place. That star had to be more than a mile away, yet it glowed like a beacon to attract anyone who was paying attention, looking for a way out of the darkness.

  As a kid hearing the story, he’d wondered how those ancient wise men had known that the star over Bethlehem was a sign—and he’d had his doubts about three old guys trekking across the desert on camels, in search of the promised Messiah. They hadn’t had a GPS system or any navigational guidance except their knowledge of astronomy, yet they’d followed the bright, special star on faith and found the stable where a tiny baby had been born.

  Marcus laughed at the irony of it: with all his technology, he hadn’t even made it out of Missouri. His transmission had gone out Wednesday night, just a couple of miles from Willow Ridge. Car repairs had eaten up his money and the delay had given him too much time to think. He knew he’d treated Rosalyn and Wyatt badly by leaving without a word, but now that he had wheels again, he still planned to escape the confinements Willow Ridge represented . . .

  But maybe you should pass through for a look at that live Nativity before you hit the road. There’ll be a crowd, so you can duck in and out without anyone spotting you.

  Marcus gazed at the star a little longer. It was surely a large balloon with a spotlight focused on it—nothing magical or spiritual about it—yet its glow tugged at something deep inside him. He suspected Rebecca was behind this illusion, but he wondered how the star remained so high in the sky and so perfectly still without drifting or bobbing on the wind.

  If you could explain everything, there’d be no need for miracles.

  Marcus blinked. He’d heard a voice, yet he was alone on the roadside. He wasn’t particularly in the mood for a miracle, nor was he sure he really believed in them. He was ready to roll—didn’t know his destination, but he’d recognize it when he got there. He got back into his car, figuring to do a drive-by at the Hooley place and keep going.

  Long before Marcus reached the Willow Ridge city limits, he spotted cars parked on both shoulders of the county highway. Considering that residents of Willow Ridge would walk or drive a buggy to the pageant, he was amazed at the number of English visitors.

  Wow, if we could attract this many people to the auction—

  Marcus shoved that thought out of his mind, because the auction wasn’t on his radar screen anymore. He drove slowly, gawking at all the people who stood in Preacher Ben’s barnyard—and stopping to allow several more to cross the road. At the Grill N Skillet corner, Sheriff Banks and Officer McClatchey were directing traffic onto the road that ran past Nora’s store, so Marcus had no choice but to follow the traffic pattern.

  When he spotted an empty space, he parked and hopped out of his car. The huge crowd guaranteed that he could step in for a closer look without anyone he knew spotting him. At this point, Marcus was too curious to leave without seeing what had attracted so many people.

  Hey, it’s just a small-town Christmas pageant. Why would anyone outside of Willow Ridge care about some farm animals and a few Amish kids singing Christmas carols?

  Marcus made his way up Preacher Ben’s driveway, engulfed by the crowd. He kept his head low when he caught sight of Asa carrying his little boy, who wore a big grin—and a cap with long donkey ears. As he stayed in the shadow of the Hooley house, the kids began singing a carol, and the whole crowd joined in.

/>   “‘Joy to the world! The Lord is come!’”

  The sheer volume of the sound pressed Marcus against the house. When he peered toward the barn, Andy and Rhoda Leitner were standing in front of a Holstein cow, a Shetland pony, a couple of mules, and some sheep. They were singing at the top of their lungs along with several young shepherds in bathrobes, three short wise men in fake beards, folks in black hats and bonnets—and the entire crowd of English visitors.

  Their happiness was so contagious that Marcus’s heart began to beat rapidly.

  “‘Joy to the world! The Savior reigns!’”

  Marcus thrummed with the power of music that rang so loudly around him, he couldn’t hear himself think. The people of Willow Ridge had just been swindled out of the money in their aid fund, yet they were filled with the true joy of Christmas. Across the barnyard, Wyatt and Rebecca stood arm in arm, singing of a heavenly love that transcended even the feelings they shared. When Preacher Ben and Bishop Tom turned to face the crowd, they, too, were so caught up in the song that their bearded faces glowed with joy. All signs of their worry were gone, as though they’d never been dragged down by the undertow of Cornelius Riehl’s treachery.

  “‘He rules the world with truth and grace!’”

  Marcus rested against the house, overcome by the words and music. Truth and grace.

  His Amish friends knew the awful truth about their errant deacon, yet they had the grace to celebrate Christmas and move forward into the New Year with hope and joy. Would it be such a difficult thing to live among people who could release their fears, along with the desperation that Riehl’s betrayal had caused them? Where else would Marcus find such acceptance, from folks who’d endured his reckless attitude because they believed he could turn himself around?