An Amish Winter

by Amy Clipston

  “I don’t question your past choices. I’m only trying to understand your current choices.” Mordecai took a swallow of coffee that steamed in the chill of the early morning. “And to make sure you won’t regret them.”

  “Nee, I won’t.” Rocky elbowed Caleb, who grunted and nearly spilled his hot chocolate. “I fully expect to play a lot more basketball and softball in these parts, given the chance. I’ll even play volleyball if nothing else presents itself.”

  Caleb stood. “Yeah, after we eat tomorrow we can play ball.”

  “Sure. We’ll work off all those carbs.”

  “Carbs?”

  “Wait.” Mordecai held up a hand. “Hear that?”

  His voice had dropped to a whisper. A sound like yelps and then the kerr-kerr sound of hens talking to one another. “Kerr-kerr. Yamp, yamp, kerr, yamp,” Mordecai called back, mimicking the sounds perfectly. “Kerr, kerr, yamp, kerr, yamp.”

  Rocky reached for the thermos. Caleb tucked his in the knapsack and stood, his Winchester at the ready. With luck the calls would bring the birds their direction. Time to hunt.

  A crack broke the silence. Like a firecracker or . . . a gunshot.

  Something whizzed over Rocky’s head, so close he felt the cool breeze. A pinging sound echoed from behind him.

  A shot.

  A second bullet thunked as it dug into the trunk of a mesquite tree behind them.

  His cup hit the mud near his boot.

  Feeling as if he moved in slow motion, Rocky hurled himself at Caleb. The boy let out a humpft as they hit the ground face-first in the mud.

  Another shot pinged over their heads.

  “Cease fire!” he hollered, aware of Mordecai flat on his stomach next to them. “Cease fire.”

  Mordecai yelled something in Deutsch.

  Adrenaline pumping through him like an out-of-control geyser, Rocky inched up his head and waved his cap. “Stop shooting now!”

  Voices clamored. A few seconds later two Englisch men in drab brown-and-gray camo tramped toward them, their shotguns pointed at the ground. Both looked stricken. “Hey, are you guys okay?” The shorter man with a full Duck Dynasty beard and thick glasses had a cigarette-roughened voice. “So sorry, man, I thought I saw a tom fly out of the trees in this direction.”

  Rocky scrambled to his feet. Mordecai and Caleb did the same. For a few seconds, the only sound was their heavy breathing.

  “This is private property.” Rocky spoke first. Mordecai was busy inspecting every inch of Caleb as if he couldn’t believe his stepson hadn’t been hit. “You must’ve wandered through a gate without realizing.”

  The taller man shoved back a hat with GUARD YOUR SECOND AMENDMENT RIGHTS embroidered on it. “Sorry, man, we might have gotten a little off track, what with following the droppings and the molting.” Curiosity etched across his face, his gaze fluttered to Mordecai and Caleb. “You’re Amish folks? I didn’t know you hunted. I thought you were pacifists.”

  The shaking in his legs made it hard for Rocky to stand. He eased onto the tree trunk Mordecai had vacated. “We only hunt what we eat.” The we came out like the most natural thing in the world. “You’ll find the road off this property up there to your left. Follow the path.”

  “Sorry about that. We’d didn’t see y’all.”

  “Like I said, no harm done.”

  He watched them trudge away until they were out of sight, somehow not convinced they would actually leave if he didn’t.

  “We’re fine.” Mordecai squatted next to him. Caleb flopped down on his knees, seemingly oblivious to the mud, bits of weeds, and grass that covered his clothes. “Like you said, no harm done.”

  “Way too close for comfort.”

  “It’s one of the risks of hunting season. Too many folks, too little territory. Some of them are weekend warriors who don’t give a hoot about safety or don’t know any better.” The pallor on his usually brown face reflected more concern than Mordecai seemed to want to admit. “You handled it right.”

  “How so?”

  “You thought quickly and moved quickly under fire, however shaken. Then you were firm but calm with those fellows.” Mordecai brushed leaves and dirt from his black jacket and pants. “Just as you should have been. Oftentimes a scare like that will cause a person to react with anger.”

  Rocky examined the last few minutes in his mind’s eye. Anger had been there, but also the understanding that it was an accident. They didn’t seek out fellow hunters at whom they could shoot. It could have been tragic. Thanks be to God, it wasn’t. “I think the time I spent over the years coaching kids has a lot to do with the way I react to things. Usually calm works best.”

  “Agreed. It’s good to know you’re not one to fly off the handle under duress. Plain folks don’t abide by that much.” Mordecai gave Caleb’s shoulder another squeeze. The boy’s face still looked pasty. “You good?”

  Caleb nodded. “We’re still hunting, aren’t we?”

  “Jah.” Mordecai clapped Rocky on the back. “My fraa will be very disappointed if we come home without a bird for the table tomorrow.”

  Rocky blew out air. One thing was for certain. He couldn’t afford to disappoint Abigail.

  CHAPTER 12

  The once heady aroma of Thanksgiving turkey now made Frannie want to open a window. The food had been wonderful. She’d eaten too much of it, in fact. Like the others, she wasn’t used to such a bounty of rich foods. That second piece of pecan pie had been the breaking point. Or maybe it was the second yeast roll slathered with fresh butter. Wishing she could loosen her dress somehow, she placed the last of the clean plates on the shelf above her head. Since she’d chosen to dry, she was the last one in the kitchen. Rebekah had dragged Hazel off for a much-needed nap. Frannie could use one herself. Hours to prepare, minutes to eat, hours to clean up afterward. That’s what her mudder always said with a certain air of satisfaction. Men might bring home the turkey, but womenfolk did the lion’s share of the work when it came to this holiday and most others.

  A wave of sadness swept over her. This was her first Thanksgiving away from her parents and silly little Hannah and baby Rachel, who wasn’t a baby anymore. Her brother Obadiah would be there with his fraa and kinner, as would Rufus. Joshua was courting, according to Hannah, but they weren’t sure with whom. If Frannie were there, she’d figure it out. She had a way of doing that.

  Someone else was spending the holiday away from his family. Rocky. It hadn’t hurt his appetite. He’d put away two helpings of turkey, exclaiming over how much better the darker meat was than a store-bought bird, cornbread stuffing, mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, gravy, cranberries, and two pieces of pie—one pumpkin, one pecan. Not that she was watching or counting.

  They hadn’t spoken since the auction. Since his declaration. He hadn’t shone his flashlight in her window. Or sent her a note. Nothing. Right now he was out in the front room by the fireplace playing card games with Caleb and her other cousins.

  Which was why she would head out the kitchen door for a nice, long walk far from temptation. She needed to work off the food anyway. Grabbing her shawl from the hook by the back door, she bundled up and put her hand on the doorknob.

  “Where are you going?”

  She bowed her head. Almost made it. Her heart began to thump like Butch’s tail against the porch railing when she petted him. “You have to stop doing that.”

  “What?”

  “Popping up everywhere.”

  “I didn’t pop up. I came for another glass of lemonade. Is that a crime?”

  Crime? So often he talked nonsense. Still, Frannie wanted to smile. “What kind of question is that?”

  “Are you going for a walk?”

  What was his first hint? “Jah.”

  “Can I go with you?”

  “Nee.”

  “Don’t be that way.”

  “My aenti is out there.”

  “She went to her room for a nap. Onkel Mordecai is passed out in the rocking c
hair. The boys are going to play kick the can or some such game I’ve never heard of.”

  “I thought you promised Caleb a game of basketball.”

  “I did as soon as the food settles. I ate so much I might vomit . . .” Rocky’s grin spread. “Not the most romantic thing I’ve ever said to a girl.”

  The potential existed that she might do the same, but it wouldn’t be from playing games. Frannie tightened her shawl around her shoulders and opened the door. “And there’s been a lot of them, I’m sure.”

  With his long legs he caught up with her all too quickly, zipping up his black leather bomber jacket as he went. “A few, I won’t deny it. But none like you.”

  Frannie had no doubt of that. She pounded down the back porch steps and lengthened her own stride, picking her way around rain puddles and dodging droopy nopals that didn’t care for the winter weather’s penchant for hiding the sun. They walked in silence, Rocky’s last statement ping-ponging between them. She truly didn’t know what to say so she said nothing.

  At the stand of mesquite and live oak that separated Mordecai’s property from the Hostetlers’, Rocky caught her hand. His fingers slipped between hers and tightened. He stopped walking, forcing her to do the same. “About what I said the other day at the auction.”

  “The other day? That was three weeks ago.” She tugged at her hand, but he wouldn’t give it up. “A person doesn’t say that and then let three weeks go by.”

  “I had no choice.”

  She swiped at her face with her other hand. “I know.”

  She did know. That was the trouble.

  “I meant it.”

  “I know.”

  “I’m trying to do the right thing.”

  “Me too.” She gazed at his face, memorizing the way his curls sprang up around his ball cap, damp and wiry. “I took a job as Susan’s helper at the school.”

  “You did?” Uncertainty washed over his face. “I thought—”

  “Single girls take that job, that’s what you thought?”

  “Sort of. I mean, it was kind of understood.”

  “It is.”

  “So you’re thinking you’ll remain single.”

  “That’s what I’m thinking.” Her knees shook, but she forced one foot to move, then the other, until she stood in his space. “I love you too.”

  “And what does that have to do with you working at the school?” He took a step toward her, enveloping her in that tantalizing Rocky scent. “Exactly?”

  “It means that if Leroy decides you should go back to Missouri and never see me again, I’ll abide by his decision.” His fingers tightened, the white knuckles matching her own smaller ones. “I’ll ask you to do the same.”

  “I will.” The words sounded raw, his voice husky. “I promised myself I wouldn’t keep you from your faith or your family.”

  “Joseph isn’t coming around anymore. He was more interested in Aenti Abigail’s cooking than in me anyway. Says I’m too lippy.”

  “You are lippy.” The muscles in Rocky’s jaw contracted. His breathing quickened. “You’ll not court another? That’s what you’re saying?”

  “I love you. That’s that.”

  His free hand touched her face. He shook his head. “I never thought loving someone would make me so crazy.”

  “You know how to pick them, I guess.”

  He laughed, more pain than mirth in the sound. “Don’t I, though?”

  “Look at it this way. You’ll be home for the holidays with your family, instead of missing them on days like today.”

  “Missing you instead.”

  She acknowledged the truth of that statement with a quick, hard hug, stepping back before he could respond. “We shouldn’t make it harder.”

  His arms came out, then dropped to his sides. “What do you mean?”

  “Don’t come around anymore.”

  “I may only have a few weeks left and you want me to waste the chance to spend time with you?”

  “We can’t court unless Leroy decides you’ll stay. It’s best that we not see each other until he makes a decision.”

  “I’ll get to say good-bye?”

  Mourning already soaked his words. Don’t make it worse. “We’ll see.”

  “I have two more sessions with Leroy and then the interview.”

  “I know. Mordecai mentioned it.” To Aunt Abigail. But in front of Frannie, giving her the gift of knowing what was going on. “That means you’ll be here through Christmas.”

  “Yes.”

  “A sweet time of year to be with family.”

  “My family’s here.” He wrapped his long arms around her in a bear hug against his chest. His heart beat in her ear. His breath touched her forehead, warming her. “You’re my family.”

  “Rocky.”

  His arms dropped, leaving her cold and bereft in a gray, sunless day. “We better get back to the house.”

  They walked side by side, not touching, but Frannie savored the lovely sensation that he still held her hand. All the way home.

  CHAPTER 13

  Rocky paused on the school porch to remove his ball cap. Balancing the pan of pumpkin bars Mrs. Cotter had made against his chest, he used one trembling hand to slick back his unruly hair. Leroy would make a decision in the next few days. The interview had taken only an hour after all those long, frustrating days of study and discussion. Depending on Leroy’s decision, the Christmas pageant might be Rocky’s last gathering with folks he’d come to like, admire, even love.

  Including Frannie. If he were anyone else, he would rue the day he’d trotted into Callie’s Bakery and Restaurant in Jamesport, Missouri, to see this skinny girl with hair the color of carrots and more freckles than a guy could count hefting a rubber bin of dirty dishes almost as big as she was. He would never regret meeting Frannie Mast. Everything that followed had made him a better man—a better person—with greater faith, new friends, a passing knowledge of south Texas and all that region encompassed. It had brought him love, bittersweet though it might be in the end.

  If Leroy decided against allowing him to join the church, Rocky would have to go back to Missouri, whether he liked it or not. He’d agreed to that provision. He must’ve been out of his mind. The pan of pumpkin bars weighed heavy in his hands. Laughter and chatter wafted from the building. Another buggy pulled in next to his. Time to get in there and get it over with.

  Enjoy it while he could, better yet.

  The door opened and Caleb grinned up at him. “Whatcha doing standing out there? It’s cold. We’re getting ready to start.”

  “Cold for south Texas. This would be balmy weather up north.” Rocky took a breath and summoned a smile. “Merry Christmas.”

  Inside, a wood-burning stove created a warm glow that matched the happy faces that filled the room. It might not seem cold to him, but these folks wore coats. A chorus of Merry Christmas’s greeted him. Mordecai, Deborah, Phineas, Abigail, even Naomi Glick seemed to have put aside differences for the moment. After setting the pumpkin bars on a table already loaded with sweets, Rocky took his time, made the rounds, greeted each one, memorizing faces and making memories to carry home.

  Frannie offered a tiny half wave from across the room. She wore her Sunday gray dress and had managed to arrive without a single stain on her apron. Her hair behaved itself behind a clean, neat kapp. He nodded. No sense in getting her in any more trouble than he already had. They’d agreed not to see each other, and they’d kept their word over the past few weeks. A simple hello wouldn’t be too much, would it? He sidestepped little Timothy King and angled his way past the second row of benches.

  “You should have a brownie. They’re really good.” Joseph stepped in front of him. “I heard Hazel say Frannie made them, but I’ll believe that when I see her mixing the batter.”

  Rocky looked over the shorter man’s shoulder. Frannie sank onto a bench between Rebekah and Abigail. “I was just going to—”

  “Say hello?” Joseph inched closer
. His voice dropped. “Don’t spoil the night for her. Half of courting is knowing when and where.”

  “I’m not courting.”

  “I know.” Joseph chucked him on the back. “That’s what she says.”

  “Really, I—”

  Susan clapped her hands twice. Silence fell as her scholars trotted to the front of the room and disappeared behind sheets that had been tacked up across one corner for a makeshift backstage. Much giggling and whispering ensued. Rocky swallowed his retort. Truth be told, the man was right. This was the crux of the matter. He couldn’t choose the Plain life for Frannie’s sake. It had to be for the sake of his own faith. He inhaled and lowered his head. Gott, Thy will be done.

  The children sauntered from behind the sheet in their costumes. Caleb made a fine Joseph. Leroy and Naomi’s Sally struggled to straighten her head covering while nestling a baby doll against her skinny chest. Mary and the infant Jesus. Sweet.

  Their enactment of the “no room at the inn” scene brought smiles to the faces in the audience. Singing of Christmas songs followed. What they lacked in musical talent, these youngsters made up for with their enthusiasm. Rocky found himself watching the faces in the audience. The Amish didn’t have a speck of pride in them, but he could pick out the parents, the way they watched their children, the way they smiled with pleasure to see them celebrate the birth of Christ. God incarnate sent to earth to die for each one of them.

  Such goodness. Such sweetness. He bowed his head and swiped at his face. Good Lord, Father, Abba, give me strength. Whatever Leroy decides, I know it will be the right thing. If I need to go home, so be it. I’ll go because I know You’ll be with me wherever I am.

  Abigail and Mordecai’s little Hazel rounded out the show with a cute poem she’d written with the help of her classmates. One hand on her cheek as if to hide her face, she managed to make it all the way through with only one prompting from Susan. Then she ran from the impromptu stage right into her mother’s arms. Cheering and clapping rocked the room with choruses of Merry Christmas and blessings for the New Year.