by Amy Clipston
Rocky swallowed hard, stood, and slapped his hat on his head. No matter what happened, this would be the best Christmas of his life.
Frannie’s hands hurt from clapping. Her throat hurt from holding back tears. Christmas would always be her favorite time of year. Nothing could be allowed to change that. This was not about her. Exactly as Rocky had said on Thanksgiving Day. So eloquently and then he left. She hadn’t seen him since that day a month ago. She’d heard of how he helped bale the last of the hay and chopped wood for the school and helped load the horse trailer with the Kropfs’ furniture when they decided to move back to Carrollton in Missouri after only a year in Bee County. He had to do what God called him to do, as did Leroy. If only Leroy would make a decision, ending her suffering and Rocky’s.
Aunt Abigail turned and leaned close. “Patience is a virtue.”
Indeed. That didn’t make it any easier. Frannie gave Hazel a big hug and a quick shove. “Go get a brownie before they’re all gone. Bring me a cutout cookie with lots of frosting.”
Hazel frowned. “But I want that one too.”
“If there’s enough, you can have one of each.”
Grinning from ear to ear, the little girl took off. To be so young and innocent that a cookie could make her day. Frannie allowed herself to do what she hadn’t done all evening. She sneaked a glance across the room. Rocky stood near the dessert table, a gingersnap the size of his palm in one hand and a cup of hot chocolate in the other. He looked content.
As he should.
“Don’t even think about it.” Deborah offset the sternness of her words with a pat on the shoulder. “You’ve been doing so well, don’t give in now.”
Frannie studied her sneakers. “He looks like a doofus chewing on that big cookie.”
Deborah giggled, sounding like Hazel. “Don’t be mean.”
“I’m trying to put myself in the right frame of mind.”
“You don’t have to say good-bye just yet.”
“You think Leroy will say no?”
“I think Leroy is praying and heeding Gott’s word. He’ll do what is right and wise.”
The ache in Frannie’s throat threatened to choke her. “That’s what I’m hoping.”
Rocky tucked the last bite of cookie in his mouth. He picked up a napkin and handed it to Hazel. They seemed to be having a conversation. He rubbed his bare chin, looking serious. After a minute or two, he placed a cookie, and then another, on the napkin. He patted Hazel’s head and gave her a little shove before turning back to the table without looking in Frannie’s direction.
The girl trotted back to Frannie. She held the napkin with both hands as if conveying a precious gift. “Rocky says to give you the star. He says it reminds him of you because you shine so bright.”
Frannie closed her eyes. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.
“Are you going to eat it? If you’re not, I will.”
Frannie opened her eyes and took the cookie from her cousin. “Of course I’ll eat it.”
She lifted the cookie to her mouth and glanced across the room, hoping Rocky would be watching.
He wasn’t.
Leroy stood between her and Rocky. They were talking; rather, Leroy talked, and Rocky simply nodded. The older man’s hand came out. They shook.
Then Rocky shrugged on his coat without looking at a single soul.
And he left.
Leroy trudged across the room. For the first time, Frannie realized he was limping a bit. He looked old and tired. He tipped his hat to her and smiled. “Merry Christmas.”
Joy dawned in those words. No matter what happened, God still reigned in heaven and on earth. “Merry Christmas.”
Leroy limped on, this time stopping to talk to Uncle Mordecai, who nodded. Her uncle began to circle the room, speaking to the older folks, the married ones. After a moment Frannie realized he was speaking to all those who’d been baptized. The members of the church. She sidled up next to Abigail. “What’s going on?”
Abigail settled onto the bench, a paper plate filled with Christmas goodies in her hands. “Leroy has called a meeting.”
“For when?”
“Now. Everyone’s here. He’s putting it to a vote.”
“Everyone will decide?”
“He says that’s the proper way. Take Rebekah and Hazel on home. We’ll get a ride from Phineas.”
Pinpricks of purple and light flickered in Frannie’s eyes. She tried to breathe and found she couldn’t.
“Go on, child.” Aenti Abigail smiled up at her. “Go home. Say your prayers and remember, Gott’s will be done.”
She wanted to ask how her aenti would vote, but Frannie didn’t. That, too, was between Aunt Abigail and Gott.
She tried to form her own prayer as she helped Hazel bundle up and slipped into her own shawl. The only word that came was Please.
CHAPTER 14
Chores first, of course. Rocky didn’t mind. He dumped feed into the horses’ trough and inhaled the crisp morning air. He’d awakened with such a sense of peace. Even though Leroy hadn’t said he could stay, he hadn’t sent him away. His handshake had been firm, his words of farewell kind. Either way, Mordecai’s last-minute invitation to join his family for Christmas Day had been the frosting on the cake. Christmas with Frannie. Truly a gift all its own. His gifts for them were small, a new faceless doll for Hazel, a baseball mitt for Caleb, basketballs for the rest of the boys, orange spice tea for Abigail, a book of crossword puzzles for Mordecai. He had nothing for Frannie because he simply couldn’t decide yet what that gift should be. He would give her something special before he left for Missouri.
If this was to be their only Christmas together, it had to be a special gift. Memorable. Lasting. He would figure it out. Just not today. She would understand.
“Come on, it’s time for breakfast,” Caleb hollered from the barn door. “Hurry up. We get presents now. Maybe we can play some basketball later.”
Rocky had to laugh at the boy’s exuberance. Kids were all alike when it came to gifts. Even Plain kinner.
He went to the kitchen first to wash his hands. The water was icy. He ducked his face and splashed it, trying to wash off the sensation that this would be the last time he did each one of these tasks with these people. A tiny piece of tissue floated in the water. He’d forgotten the wound along his jawline. Learning to shave with a razor had taken a daily toll on his face. Maybe that particular struggle had ended. He straightened and grabbed a threadbare dish towel from the counter, taking his time memorizing the warm kitchen. A stack of pancakes as tall as a toddler sat warming on the stove next to a huge pan of scrambled eggs. The house smelled of maple syrup and fresh baked biscuits and bacon. His mouth watered.
“Come on, come into the front room.” Hazel tugged on his hand. “Your seat is next to Caleb’s.”
Rocky followed. He sank into his chair, glad to sit. He’d never felt so blessed or so welcome or so sad.
“Presents first?” Hazel danced around Mordecai, keeping him from making much progress from the kitchen to the table. “Presents are first, aren’t they?”
“Not if I stumble over you and break my neck.” Mordecai scooped her up and carried her on his hip like a sack of potatoes. She shrieked, her giggles contagious. His low rumble of laughter mingled with the girl’s. “Patience is virtue, my child.”
Even though he’d heard that phrase a hundred times, it had never meant more to Rocky.
Frannie set a basket loaded with biscuits on the table. At the sight of him, she smiled, a broad, happy smile the likes of which he hadn’t seen in a month of Sundays.
“Morning.”
“Morning.”
“Presents?” Hazel touched a small stack next to her plate, but she didn’t pick anything up. “Now?”
“Prayers first.” Mordecai bowed his head. Everyone followed suit.
Silence swept over the room, bringing with it a sense of peace and a kind of prosperity that had nothing to do with material goods. R
ocky prayed for each person in the room and for his own salvation.
“Since we have a guest this bright and beautiful morning, I think we should start with his gifts.” Mordecai broke the silence. “What do y’all think?”
“There’s no need to give me gifts.” Rocky squirmed in his seat. These folks had no extra of anything. They worked hard to feed and clothe themselves. There was nothing left after that. “Honestly, I wouldn’t feel right.”
“A person should never reject a gift given from the heart.” Mordecai shook one long and calloused finger at Rocky. “Accept and be blessed by these offerings.”
Nothing could be said to that, especially with the tightness in his throat and the heat behind his eyes, so Rocky opted for a simple nod.
“Me first, me first!” Hazel scooted from her chair and ran around the table, a small brown bag in her chubby hands. “Open it, open it.”
Rocky obliged. The bag held two apples and three long carrots. Uncertain, he smiled at her. “Thank you. I love apples and carrots.”
“For your horse. For Chocolate.” Hazel held up her hands as if amazed she had to explain this. “Horses like Christmas too.”
Silly Rocky. “Of course they do.”
Caleb went next. A hunting knife wrapped in newspaper funnies. A nice one. “Are you sure, Caleb? This was expensive.”
“Jah.” The boy shrugged, his grin philosophical. “I had two.”
“Perfect.”
“We have to go deer hunting soon.”
“Absolutely.” If he was still here. “It will come in very handy.”
Deborah handed him a box across the table. Phineas sat next to her, his arm thrown across the chair behind his fraa. The word came naturally. Mann and fraa. Something Rocky might never have. He focused on the box, afraid they would all see the emotion that threatened to overwhelm him. No fancy paper or bows. A simple box with the flaps entwined to keep the lid shut.
“Y’all shouldn’t have done this.”
The y’all made everyone laugh. He would take a bit of Texas home with him, no doubt about it. He tugged open the flaps. A beautiful, pristine straw hat. He lifted it with gentle hands. “You shouldn’t have.” It was the nicest hat he’d ever owned. “I mean, I—”
“I hope it’s not too big.” Deborah slapped a hand on her husband’s broad chest. “Phineas insisted you have a big head.”
“To match my big feet.” Rocky managed a laugh. It sounded strangled in his ears. He set the hat on his head. It fit just as it should, a little snug so the first south Texas wind wouldn’t send it sailing. If he were to look in a mirror right now—if there was a mirror in this house, which there likely wouldn’t be—he’d see a man the spitting image of an Amish person. He had no doubt of that. “He’s right. It’s perfect.”
Abigail went next. “From Mordecai and me.”
A small package wrapped in white tissue paper. Suspenders. This time he had to take a long breath. What were they saying? Did they know something he didn’t? A straw hat, suspenders, a hunting knife, food for his horse. It seemed to add up to an enormous gift he hadn’t expected to receive.
“Galluses, right? That’s the word for suspenders?”
Abigail nodded and smiled. “Galluses.”
“Thank you.” He cleared his throat. “I know you don’t stand on ceremony, and you’re not much for flowery sentiment, but I have to say it. Thank you for making me feel so welcome and so a part of this family today. It’s the best Christmas ever.”
“That’s not all.”
Frannie slipped from her chair and picked up a box nestled on the floor next to the fireplace. When she turned, tears shone in her eyes. He’d never seen her cry. Not that she would admit to crying now. The box was heavy. He unfolded the flaps. An enormous English–German translation of the Holy Bible sat on his lap. He lifted it from tissue paper that protected it. Leather bound. Substantial in his shaking hands.
He lifted his gaze from the book and let it travel to Frannie. Her smile trembled. “Nothing is more important than your path with God. Our journey through this world is short. You’ll need that to navigate.”
She plopped into her chair, her hand over her mouth as if to keep from saying more.
He cleared his throat again. “I’m not sure I understand what this means.”
“You already have the most important tool.” Mordecai leaned back in his chair, his expression expansive. “You have faith, despite or because of the travails you’ve experienced. You’ve shown Leroy and me and the rest of our community your commitment, your willingness to set aside the trappings of the world, to keep yourself apart.”
Rocky heard the words, but they still didn’t compute. “Leroy made a decision?”
“We all did. The district voted after the pageant.”
“All y’all said yes.”
Mordecai’s laugh rumbled deep in his chest. “We all did.”
“Jah, jah!” Hazel crowed. “Merry Christmas.”
“I’m in?”
“You have to take the baptism classes in the spring and be baptized.”
“Hence, the Bible.” He touched the black leather cover. His jaw ached with the effort to corral his emotions. He wouldn’t start out by bawling like a baby in front of members of his new community. “I’m speechless.”
Caleb smacked his fork against his plate in a beat reminiscent of a Christmas song. “Enough talk. Let’s open our presents so we can eat pancakes.”
Indeed. All the important words had been spoken.
Almost.
Frannie scraped the last of her scrambled eggs and bacon into Butch’s dish on the back porch. The dog’s snout turned up in an obvious smile under one eye with the “pirate patch.” If the schtinkich of his doggy breath was any indication, he’d already bagged a rabbit or some such critter for breakfast. Regardless, his behind wagged a stubby tail. Tightening her shawl around her in the chilly December breeze, she glanced back, feeling only slightly guilty. Aenti Abigail didn’t like for her to feed table scraps to Butch, but even the dog deserved a Christmas treat. After the gift exchange, she’d found herself with little appetite. She wanted to run after Rocky when he left the table with Onkel Mordecai. Ask him, What now? What does this mean for us? A woman didn’t do that. Especially in these circumstances. It wasn’t about her or her feelings for Rocky. This was about Rocky’s path on this earth. Nothing was bigger than that, no matter how she felt.
All the same, it wasn’t fair, making women wait until men grew enough smarts to know what they wanted out of life. Women always got down that road first, it seemed. Always.
“There you are.”
A shiver swept through her that had nothing to do with the damp winter weather. She turned. Rocky loomed over her. The Rocky scent engulfed her. He wore his new straw hat. He looked so Plain. Appearances meant nothing, Frannie knew that, but the sight of him made her want to sit down right where she stood. Her feet were lumps of wood. If she tried to walk, she’d keel over. “Here I am.”
Rocky scratched Butch behind floppy ears. The dog panted in sheer delight and went back to eating. “Does Abigail know you’re feeding Butch bacon? That has to be some form of sacrilege.”
“Hush. He’s a good dog. He deserves a treat.”
He shrugged those massive shoulders. “I reckon you’re right.”
His hand came up and his thumb brushed against Frannie’s cheek. Suddenly she didn’t need her shawl after all. “What are you doing?”
“At least you’re not still asking me what I’m doing here.” The humor in the words didn’t match his serious expression. “You had a smudge of syrup on your face.”
The plate clattered against the wood beneath her feet. She bent to pick it up. Her head collided with his. “Ouch. Ouch!”
“Yikes, ouch, sorry!” They both straightened. Rocky held the plate, by some miracle, unbroken in his hand. “Sorry. That’s what happens when I try to be helpful.”
Would it always be this hard for them? Frann
ie wanted to find out. She couldn’t wait to find out. She snatched the dirty plate, tempted to press it against her apron for fear it would fall again. “Was there . . . something else?”
“Yep. I mean, jah.”
“What is it?”
“I’m so happy about being allowed to stay. I was wondering . . . are you happy too?”
“Of course I am. It’s what I wanted. For you. And for me. If it’s what you want.”
“It is. It truly is. I’m looking forward to spring and the baptism classes.”
A question not asked echoed through his words.
“Me too.”
“You’ll be baptized with me, then?”
With or without him, of course, but Frannie knew what he meant. “I’ll be baptized.”
Rocky shuffled his big feet, his smile almost shy. “I feel bad. I don’t have a Christmas gift yet for you. I couldn’t decide.”
She’d already received the gift of his continued presence in her life. A chance that they could be together. “You don’t have to get me anything. It doesn’t work that way—leastways not around here.”
He would learn that now. It would be a pleasure to watch him embrace this new season in his life. If he planned to share it with her. Surely, he did. Still, a girl didn’t like to take these things for granted.
“There are so many things I thought of getting you.” He stared over her shoulder. “I just thought . . . well, now that we know I’m staying, well . . .”
Come on, Rocky. “Well, what?”
“I wondered what that means for us.”
“What do you think it means?”
“I know what I hope it means.”
The man was seriously addled. Frannie set the plate on the porch banister. She grabbed his hand and entwined her fingers in his. “Do I have to do all the work here?”
“No. You don’t.” His Adam’s apple bobbed as his gaze fastened on their hands. “I hope it means you’ll take a buggy ride with me—a lot of buggy rides. That I’ll need lots of batteries for my flashlight, and neither of us will get enough sleep anytime soon because we’ll be driving around the countryside talking all hours of the night.”