The Amish Wonders Collection

by Ruth Reid

  “I gained five pounds,” she volunteered, hoping to start a conversation.

  “That’s gut.”

  Lindie stared at the snowy field. She blinked back tears and tried to clear her head but failed. Oh, Lord, I feel so alone.

  Josiah slipped his hand under the cover, found hers, and squeezed it. “What are you upset about?”

  She shrugged and the blanket fell off her shoulder.

  He pulled his hand away from hers and gripped the reins. A car sped past, its back end sliding to the shoulder. Josiah kept both hands on the reins, his eyes fixed on the road. “These hills are getting bad.”

  It took longer than normal to reach the bishop’s house. Anxious to talk with Rebecca, Lindie pulled the cover away.

  Josiah stopped her. “Stay warm. I’ll get Hannah.”

  “I wanted to find out more about the house-to-house visits.”

  Josiah rubbed his jaw. “You want us to join in with the activities, don’t you?”

  She lifted her brows. “I’m nett on restrictions anymore.”

  “I’ll be right back.” He hurried up the steps and Rebecca was quick to answer the door.

  Lindie closed her eyes. Lord, I’m still struggling to understand your way. She paused and thought about Moses’s sister, Mary. Lindie thought nothing would separate their friendship, but Mary stopped talking to her after news spread that Lindie had skipped the singing to spend the night with an Englischer. Mary had openly rebuked her, even said she was glad her brother changed his mind about marrying Lindie.

  Voices outside drew her attention and she opened her eyes. Rebecca waved from the doorway and Lindie returned the greeting.

  The buggy door opened and Hannah slid across the bench and snuggled close to Lindie. Josiah took his place and released the buggy brake.

  “I asked Rebecca if we can serve hot cocoa and cookies,” he said, then added, “I don’t want you overdoing it.”

  She shifted to see him over Hannah. “What about Ada? I thought that’s what she wanted to serve.”

  “We’ll go to Ada’s at the beginning and our haus will be the last stop on the loop. It’s a long nacht. It takes several hours going by sleigh through the open fields and woods.”

  “It sounds fun.”

  He shrugged.

  Christmas without Caroline must have been difficult for him. Lindie wished things could change this year—for all of them.

  Josiah jabbed a pitchfork into the stack of hay with all the force he could muster. He couldn’t get the echo of Doctor Ethridge’s voice out of his mind. Inconclusive tests . . . possible relapse . . . The doctor couldn’t say for certain if his lymphoma had returned. He rattled off blood levels and their ranges as if Josiah could keep track of what was not within normal limits.

  This news wasn’t any different from what he received six years ago. The doctor’s pat assurance, I don’t want to unnecessarily worry you, but . . . was the same today as all those years ago. Josiah remembered Caroline sitting in the chair beside him as Doctor Ethridge explained how he routinely repeated any abnormal blood work. Tears ran down Caroline’s face, but Josiah was too stunned to offer her the hankie he had tucked in his pocket.

  Over the last several weeks he’d denied the symptoms, but in truth, he knew. His body was responding now as it had before. A persistent cough, unexplained rash, fatigue, along with night sweats so severe they soaked his T-shirt and drenched his bedding. Josiah forked a mound of hay. Somehow he had to stay strong. At least long enough to get his house in order. He tossed the hay over the calf fence. In hindsight, had Lindie accepted his advances, things really would have gotten complicated.

  Josiah fed the other livestock, but he wasn’t ready to go inside. He didn’t want to face Simon or take a chance that Lindie noticed his emotional state and bombarded him with questions. He dared not think of what it would mean if he were no longer in remission. Relapsed or not, he wasn’t promised tomorrow. He had to make the most of today.

  He leaned the pitchfork against the wall, pulled off his leather gloves, and touched the area on his neck that had swollen to the size of a goose egg six years ago. His gland didn’t feel enlarged now. He unbuttoned his shirt. Sliding his hand under the fabric, he palpated his chest and under each armpit. No lumps there either. Maybe he could rest on Doctor Ethridge’s admittedly thin possibility that it was an infection of some sort.

  He covered his hand over his nose as a tickling sensation caused him to sneeze. When he pulled his hand away from his face, it was covered in blood.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Lindie and Hannah baked dozens of cookies Christmas Eve morning. Nowhere near the amount Lindie was accustomed to baking for the holidays, but she enjoyed teaching Hannah how to roll cookie dough. After each batch was ready to come out of the oven, Hannah would lick her lips in anticipation.

  Even Josiah meandered in and out of the kitchen to sample the sweets. He favored the peanut-butter cookies and praised Hannah for her work creating the crisscross patterns with the fork. He dabbed flour on his daughter’s nose and she giggled, a sound Lindie had never heard. It was beginning to feel like Christmas. Lindie wished the giddiness would last longer, but Josiah left the room, saying over his shoulder that chores needed to be done.

  He spent the remainder of the day in the barn and didn’t return again until suppertime. Even then, once the men ate, they disappeared back outside.

  Lindie stood at the window. A faint light flickered in the barn. She couldn’t imagine what chores took this long. Didn’t he want to say good night to Hannah? Lindie waited a few more minutes, but when he still didn’t come inside, she walked Hannah to her bed and tucked her under the covers. Then she sat at the kitchen table and resumed sewing the doll. After she sewed the apron and kapp and attached them to the doll, the Christmas gift would be complete.

  Under the flicker of the oil lamp, she threaded the needle. She had just stitched on the apron when the bell above the door rang and something thumped near the back door. Lindie set the doll on the table and rushed from the room, but stopped at the sight of Josiah wiggling himself and a wooden cradle through the entryway.

  She touched her abdomen and smiled. He probably thought she was in bed and meant it as a surprise. Even so, she couldn’t just stand there when he was struggling. “Let me help.” She drew closer and stopped. Simon was at the other end. The swinging part of the cradle wouldn’t stay in place.

  Josiah and Simon walked it farther into the room and set it down. “Denki for all your help.”

  Simon nodded. “It’s late. I should get to bed.”

  “It’s beautiful.” Lindie drew closer, unable to take her eyes off the smooth wood.

  “Simon helped me with it.”

  “I just followed your pattern.” Simon turned. “Gut nacht.”

  “Denki,” Lindie said, stopping him. “This really means a lot to me.”

  He lowered his head and nodded before disappearing out the door.

  Lindie looked at Josiah. “How long has he known about the boppli?”

  He shrugged. “I came back from town the other day and he was working on it. He said he didn’t think I had enough time to finish it before Christmas.”

  “And he wasn’t upset?”

  “Nope.” Josiah ran his hand along the wood grain, then looked at the dust. “It needs a gut cleaning.”

  “I’m sorry if I ruined your surprise,” she said, swaying with her hands interlocked behind her.

  “You didn’t spoil all of it.” Josiah winked. “Although I did think I could sneak it inside without you seeing. Aren’t you tired?”

  She motioned to the kitchen. “I have some sewing to do on Hannah’s doll before tomorrow or it won’t have an apron or kapp.”

  The cradle started her thinking about sewing little quilts and clothing for the baby, something most women in their second trimester had already started. Maybe after the first of the year, she and Hannah could work on a quilt together. She could teach her some sim
ple stitches.

  Josiah trailed her into the kitchen. “Please don’t wear yourself out.”

  “This won’t take long.” She pulled out a chair, sat, and picked up her material.

  He reached inside a drawer for a dishrag, dampened it at the sink, then wrung out the excess water. He stopped next to the table and leaned over her shoulder. “She’s going to like the doll.”

  “I hope so. I would have made her a new dress that matched her doll, but someone kept me in bed.” She guided the needle through the material.

  “If you overdo it, you might find yourself back in bed again.”

  She looked up at him and frowned. The dim lamp glow had cast dark shadows under his eyes, making him look tired and older than his thirty-two years.

  He turned and coughed into his hand.

  “I think you need to heed your own advice and get some rest,” she said as he walked out of the room.

  Lindie had the tiny pleats stitched on the kapp by the time Josiah reentered the kitchen. Once he spread the cloth over the edge of the sink basin to dry, he said gut nacht and reminded her not to stay up late.

  She would follow soon, but first she wanted to sew the strings on the apron, then wrap the gift in a brown paper bag. The scarves she made for Josiah and Simon needed to be wrapped too.

  Lindie quickly tied a knot and clipped the thread with the scissors. She turned the doll over a few times, examining her work, and smiled. She wasn’t much younger than Hannah when her mother had given her a doll for Christmas. Lindie remembered holding that doll like a baby and carrying it with her everywhere. She rested her hand on her belly. In a few short months, she wouldn’t be carrying a doll, but a son or daughter. An odd sensation filled her with warmth. She went into the sitting room and stopped next to the cradle. Lord, please equip me to bring up this baby in a way pleasing to you.

  As Lindie and Hannah worked to prepare the Christmas meal, Josiah leaned against the wall at the kitchen entrance. He hadn’t seen his daughter this excited in a long time. She mixed the biscuit batter while Lindie washed and peeled the potatoes, then plunked them into the pot of water. The scent of roasting turkey teased his senses. He watched the two of them interact. Lindie’s signing had improved, and even when she made a slight blunder, Hannah didn’t correct her. He could not have found a better fraa. He wished she shared the same feelings about marrying him.

  Lindie placed the pot of potatoes on the stove to boil. She caught a glimpse of him from the corner of her eye and smiled. “I didn’t know you were standing there.”

  “It sure smells gut.” He stepped farther into the kitchen.

  “The turkey is almost finished cooking. What do you think is keeping Simon?”

  He shrugged. “He’s mentioned a few times that he wants to give us space. But don’t worry, he won’t miss Christmas supper.”

  His daughter looked his way and smiled. The kind of smile that reached his heart and reminded him there was a God. And God had given him back his daughter. His throat constricted with emotion. She signed that she was making biscuits, and he asked if he could taste one the minute they came out of the oven. Hannah nodded, then returned to dropping mounds of dough in a row on a cookie sheet.

  Armed with pot holders, Lindie opened the oven, removed the lid of the roasting pan, and peered at the golden brown turkey.

  He craned his neck when she stabbed it with a fork in a few places. The bird looked cooked to him. Juices bubbled on the bottom of the roaster. After a few more jabs she replaced the lid and closed the oven door. “It needs more time.”

  “I better get out to the barn. I’m nett the only one hungry today.” He scooted out of the kitchen.

  “Make sure you get Simon,” Lindie called out as he was putting on his coat.

  Out in the barn, he fed and watered the animals. His thoughts turned to Hannah. His daughter certainly seemed happy to be working in the kitchen with Lindie. He hoped this new relationship between them continued to grow. The possibility of having relapsed niggled in the back of his mind. He pushed the thoughts aside, finished the chores, and tapped on Simon’s door. “Supper is ready.”

  A moment later Simon came out carrying three burlap bags.

  “Are you hungry?”

  “I’ve been looking forward to the meal all day,” Simon said.

  When they entered the house, they were met with the scent of turkey and biscuits. Josiah licked his lips. Simon set the bags down next to the cradle while Josiah went to the kitchen.

  Lindie placed the bowl of potatoes on the table beside the gravy. Hannah was arranging the silverware by the place settings.

  “Give me a minute to wash my hands and I’ll set the turkey platter on the table.” Josiah didn’t want Lindie trying to carry the fourteen-pound bird.

  When he returned, she was rummaging through the drawer of utensils. “I don’t see a carving knife.”

  He set the turkey on the table and helped her search.

  “I’ll get one.” She left the kitchen and went down the hall.

  Curious whether he’d heard her right, he followed. Josiah stopped at the bedroom doorway and watched her search through one of the boxes she had brought from Ohio. He cleared his throat. “Why do you have household items boxed up in here?”

  She rose from her squatted position holding the knife. “These are the things I brought from Ohio. Articles from mei hope chest.”

  “But why are they in a box?”

  “I couldn’t bring the wooden chest on the bus.”

  “Lindie, no one stores household items once they’re married.” He crossed the room. “You haven’t unpacked anything, have you?”

  She shook her head. “I didn’t know if you . . .”

  “What?”

  She hesitated. “You were upset when I rearranged the dishes. I didn’t want you upset if I added mine to yours.”

  He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “I’ve treated you like a guest when this is your home.” Why didn’t I see this? “I’m sorry. You’re mei fraa. I don’t want you to leave your things packed away. Everything in the kitchen is yours. If you want to get rid of something, that’s up to you. But please, make this into your home. Okay?”

  She smiled.

  “You’ve been very patient with me. I’m a blessed man.” He cupped her shoulders and turned her toward the door. “Let’s go eat.”

  Once they were all seated, Josiah reached to his right for Lindie’s hand and to his left for Hannah’s. Simon joined the circle from the opposite end of the table. They gave thanks for their first Christmas meal together.

  When they had eaten all they could, Lindie stood and collected an armload of dishes. “When I was growing up, mei father read the story of Jesus’ birth after supper.”

  Josiah gathered the remaining dishes and joined her at the sink. “We can start that same tradition, if you want.”

  Her eyes brightened.

  “The dishes can wait until later.” Josiah turned to Simon. “If you will read the scriptures, I’ll sign.”

  “I would like that.”

  They all went into the sitting room where Simon picked up the Bible and opened it to the book of Luke.

  Hannah found a place on the rug in front of the woodstove, her eyes bright and attentive to her father.

  Simon finished the reading and closed the book.

  Josiah stood. “I’ll be back in a minute.” Josiah slipped down the hall and into the bedroom where he’d hidden a box filled with Christmas presents.

  Hannah’s eyes lit up when he returned with the box. He handed her a package he’d covered with meat-wrapping paper and tied with twine.

  “Ach, can you wait a minute?” Lindie rushed out of the room and returned with three packages, which she handed to Simon, Hannah, and Josiah.

  Josiah gazed at the yarn-tied package. He hadn’t felt sentimental about receiving a gift in a long time, but something stirred in his heart when she handed him this one.

  Josiah gestured for
Hannah to open her presents first.

  She peeled the paper off the package that he’d given to her and smiled as she lifted the boots out of the box. Hannah set them aside and signed thank you, then lifted the present from Lindie onto her lap. Tearing into the package, her eyes widened. She carefully removed the doll as if it were made of porcelain. She cradled it in her arms, then rose to her feet and hugged Lindie.

  Warmth spread through Josiah’s core. Lindie offered Hannah exactly what she needed—a mother’s embrace—a gift of love that couldn’t be bought or made.

  Hannah returned to her spot on the floor, stroking her baby doll. Then she set the doll down, picked up a brown paper bag, and handed it to Lindie.

  “Ach, what’s this?” She opened the bag and pulled out the framed picture. “It’s beautiful.” She held it up for Josiah to see. “Look, it’s a picture of hands. All different sizes.” Lindie studied the picture closer. The hands all rested on a pregnant belly.

  Josiah pointed to the wall. “I thought we could hang it over the desk.”

  “I’d like that.” Lindie pointed to the largest set of hands in the drawing. “Who is this?” she signed.

  Hannah signed and Josiah answered, “God.”

  The second-largest hands, she pointed to her father. The next were Lindie’s, then Hannah pointed to another set and then at herself. But one set of hands—a tiny set—remained.

  Josiah leaned closer to get a better view of the picture. When he measured the paper to make the frame and even while he was framing it, he hadn’t noticed the extra set of hands.

  Hannah cradled her arms and swung them.

  The baby? It made no sense. Obviously, the rounded belly in the picture meant Lindie was pregnant. It was a perfect gift nonetheless. “I’ll hang it.” Josiah took the picture. He already had the hammer and nail waiting on the desk.

  Lindie gave Hannah a hug and thanked her for the picture. She blotted the corners of her eyes with her dress sleeve.