A Simple Amish Christmas

by Vannetta Chapman

Luke obviously wasn’t happy with the arrangement, but his mamm cleared her throat, and he nodded his agreement.

  Annie had clean bandages and disinfectant at Samuel’s side before he had the hand unwrapped. The wound wasn’t as bad as she feared, but it was definitely a puncture wound.

  “Do you think it was a nail?” Samuel asked his mother.

  “Probably. There’s quite a bit of old lumber out that way. John has it all stacked and the nails out of it, but he might have missed one.”

  “You did a fine job cleaning it, Martha.” Samuel swiped the wound again with disinfectant as Annie popped a sucker in Luke’s mouth. “I’m afraid he is going to need a tetanus shot, though, and I’m not allowed to give those. You need to take him on to see Doc Stoltzfus.”

  Annie had the hand rebandaged by the time Samuel had written a note to the doctor.

  “Give this to him. I don’t think they’ll need to reclean the wound, but I want Luke to have the tetanus shot today. It’s valid for ten years, and I imagine Mr. Luke will be finding more rusty things to trip over by the time he’s fourteen.”

  “Ya, I can hardly keep him in the house at all—even in the winter. Danki, Samuel. Danki, Annie.”

  “Gem gschehne,” they both said, then smiled at each other as the words came out in near harmony.

  There wasn’t much time to dwell on the moment, though.

  The morning had barely begun, and already every bench was filled with mothers and children. Men willing to brave the cold stood out in the yard, in the winter sunshine, talking of spring and crops.

  It did not remind Annie of emergency room work—there was none of the violence and desperation she’d seen there. Instead, she kept thinking back to the six-week rotation she’d done with a general practitioner. The work had actually fascinated her.

  This was very much like that old gentleman’s office. As the sun warmed the barn to a comfortable temperature, and the snow on the trees began to melt and drip, they saw all manner of patients.

  Old Mrs. Wagler presented with bowel problems. Samuel sat down, listened to her for five minutes, and had her lie on their one makeshift table so he could check her abdomen. After questioning her closely to be sure there’d been no blood in her bowels, he then asked her about her diet. Finally, she admitted that she’d had no green vegetables all winter, since her husband had passed. Her children had long ago moved to Ohio, and she’d put off following them there.

  “Each year they visit, and each year they ask me to come, but I like it here, Samuel.”

  “Mrs. Wagler, I know your neighbors would be froh to bring you some of the vegetables they have put up for winter.”

  “Don’t like the way they taste when they’re not fresh.”

  “But your body needs them. I want you to start eating greens once a day, walk out to check on your spring plantings every morning—”

  “They won’t be up for another four months.”

  “I know they won’t, but I want you to check on them nonetheless. I also want you to take a teaspoonful of this oil. One teaspoon per day.”

  He helped her off the table, and handed her the bottle of oil and the paper Annie had scribbled on. “Annie’s written down everything I said. Follow those instructions, and come see me in two weeks if you’re not feeling any better.”

  It continued in the same vein all morning.

  They saw a half dozen people with the flu, all of whom Charity had managed to keep away from other folks who were waiting.

  The owner of the livery stable in town had an ingrown nail so infected he could no longer put his shoe on. Samuel cut it out, disinfected it, and bandaged it up.

  “Don’t wait so long next time, Mark.” Samuel shook the man’s hand as he limped out toward his buggy.

  “Ya. I meant to come in, but things have been busy this month.”

  “They’ll be busier if you can’t walk. Then you’ll have to hire a few boys to do all your work.”

  Mark pushed his hat onto his head. “Wouldn’t think a toe could cause so much trouble,” he grumbled.

  Annie was setting out clean tools when Samuel tugged on her hand. She looked up, startled at the touch of his fingers against her skin.

  “Time for a break, Nurse Annie.”

  “But we’re not done.”

  “Check the waiting room.”

  Annie stuck her head out of the stall and saw the area they’d set up with benches was miraculously empty. “Where’d they go? I counted six people waiting a few minutes ago. Lydia was here to have her stitches removed, and little baby Amos has a cold—”

  “Stop.”

  “Stop?”

  Samuel put both hands on her shoulders, and she feared she might melt right there—become a puddle in the middle of his barn. Why did his touch have such a strong effect on her? Before she could figure it out, he marched her to the door separating the work area from the larger part of the barn.

  “Stop. It’s lunchtime. Look,” his voice whispered gently in her ear. “Everyone else has figured it out. Everyone but Miss Annie.”

  She turned then, pivoted in his arms so she could see his expression. “Oh, but we didn’t… That is, I was so focused on bringing my things, I didn’t think to bring—”

  “Annie. Over here.” Charity’s voice broke through the cloud of confusion that had settled around her. Spinning again, she spied her sister sitting with one of the girls who worked with her at the store, on some crates stacked neatly under one of the barn’s windows. Between them they’d set out the fixings of a thrown-together lunch.

  Though most still wore their coats, sunlight poured down on them. Other families had similarly set up picnic areas.

  Annie’s stomach growled.

  “Sounds like your schweschder has it covered.” Samuel smiled broadly, angled her in the direction of Charity, then pushed her gently out of the workroom.

  He’d had the oddest urge to kiss her on the little button of a nose that she’d turned up to him, which would of course have been entirely inappropriate. He stuck both of his hands in his pockets instead.

  He watched her walk out into the larger room, then stepped back into the shadow of the workroom and took a deep breath, forced his heart rate back into a normal rhythm.

  Samuel Yoder, confirmed bachelor and cranky old bear, was attracted to Annie Weaver. The truth hit him hard. What had happened?

  When had it happened?

  How had it happened?

  His mind immediately thought of Mary, and he walked back to the examining stall, began tidying it, though everything lay in tip-top shape.

  Mary. She would have wanted him to find another, would have expected him to move on with his life. It was the Amish way, what they were taught from a very young age—to give themselves up to whatever happened, accept all things as God’s will.

  But was what happened that December night God’s will?

  Or was it merely his mistake?

  After eight years he still couldn’t say. But even if he had been able to say, the point was an irrelevant one.

  He straightened the last of the medical supplies, already in a row, and turned back to the main portion of his barn.

  Truthfully, in the last eight years he hadn’t been attracted to any other woman, and the letters he’d received from Rachel… Well, they had hardly sparked any feelings of attraction. They had inspired only guilt. While he cared for Mary’s sister and wished her well, he had certainly never thought of her in any terms other than as a sister. Was that why her recent letters made him uncomfortable?

  He could read between the lines to understand her meaning, but it hadn’t been something he’d acknowledged, even to himself, until this moment.

  Now it seemed as if he had awakened from a very long sleep.

  Mary.

  Little Annie Weaver.

  They had been the only two women who stirred this place in his heart the same way a new dawn over his fields stirred his soul.

  Running his fingers through his
beard, he walked slowly out into the main portion of his barn. Perhaps some lunch would settle the ideas tumbling through his head.

  He certainly needed to think more clearly.

  Annie Weaver! She was ten years his junior, and she was his closest friend’s daughter.

  Blood pumped through his veins, causing him to feel as if he’d just run beside a buggy. Sweat trickled down the back of his neck, warm despite the coolness of the day. Samuel stepped over to the sink and began vigorously washing his hands. Ice-cold water poured into the basin as he scrubbed his hands, then splashed the water on his face.

  “You cleaning up or taking a bath?”

  Reaching for a hand towel, Samuel stopped at the sound of Bishop Levi’s voice, turned, and nearly bumped into the older man.

  “Levi, I didn’t see you.”

  “Probably because I just arrived. You also seemed a bit distracted.” Levi nodded at the water still pouring into the basin.

  Samuel reached forward and turned off the faucet. When he’d finished drying his hands, he hung up the hand towel on a peg next to the sink. “Ya, I suppose I was. It’s been a busy morning.”

  “So it seems by the number of buggies in your yard. You have quite a few people here.” Levi smiled broadly, then rattled the brown paper bag in his hand. “I brought some lunch if you have time to take a few minutes and eat.”

  “I was washing up and headed inside to fix a quick meal. Looks like you saved me the trouble. What brings you so far out of town?”

  “I needed to visit a few families, and I hoped to stop by and have a word with you. Knew it would be a busy day being third Saturday and all—so lunch would be my best chance.”

  Samuel led him over to an empty bench. “It’s a gut plan, but I would have made time to see you without the food.”

  He accepted the sandwich Levi handed him, bit into the rye bread and pastrami, and closed his eyes as he savored the flavors. The rich meat and fresh bread tasted heavenly. He hadn’t realized how much of an appetite he’d worked up.

  “We have a situation over at the Smucker home,” Levi said.

  Samuel took another bite of the sandwich, waited.

  “Youngest girl is expecting a child.”

  The words hung between them, along with all of the questions and complications they brought. Though young single mothers weren’t unheard of in Amish communities, they were a rarity.

  “Has she said who the father is?”

  “Told her mamm he was an Englischer, someone passing through, and now he’s gone.”

  Reaching for the lemonade Levi had brought, Samuel took a long drink. When he’d had his fill, he looked his bishop in the eye. He knew him to be a kind man, sometimes a strict leader—depending on what the situation demanded, but always compassionate.

  “What would you have me do?” Samuel finally asked. “The girl needs prenatal care.”

  “Her parents would like the situation kept quiet for now.”

  “Belinda will be discreet.”

  Levi shook his head. “You know that won’t work. Belinda is a fine midwife, but if her car starts going to their house twice a month, everyone will know why.”

  Samuel stood, suddenly ready to be done with this day’s work. “People will know anyway, Levi. When the girl’s condition begins to show, and when the child is born.”

  “Ya, and I said as much to the family. The girl, Sharon, is barely sixteen. She isn’t a member of the church yet, so there’s no need for a confession. I’ve counseled with her, and I’ll continue to do so. But you know her father—”

  “Phillip is a gut man.”

  “He is. He’s taking this hard, though. We need to give him time.”

  “So you want me to go by and see her, instead of Belinda?”

  “Someone should.”

  Samuel looked across his barn, over to where Charity and Annie were collecting their things together. One of the teenage boys had joined them and was helping to pack the hamper Charity’s friend had brought. As the boy smiled and clowned, Samuel couldn’t help feeling something akin to a pain in his stomach.

  Annie was closer to the lad’s age than his own.

  She belonged with a boy her own age.

  “So you’ll go by and see her?” The bishop pressed.

  “I didn’t say I would, but I know someone who might be perfect for the job.”

  Levi followed his gaze. “Annie Weaver?”

  “Ya. She helped me birth Faith Blauch’s child the other night.” He hesitated, then pushed on. “I spoke to her about becoming Belinda’s apprentice.”

  Levi tugged on his graying beard, then nodded. “It would be an excellent thing for our district. What did she say?”

  “She didn’t, but I believe she’s considering the idea. Helping Sharon Smucker might move her in that direction. She certainly has the training to handle the prenatal visits, and I’ll see to it she has Belinda’s contact information in case she has any questions.”

  “Are you sure Annie will do it?”

  Samuel smiled, shook the older man’s hand, and walked him outside, toward his buggy.

  “There’s not a lot I know about Annie Weaver, but I know she has trouble turning away a young one in need. She’ll say yes.”

  The bishop climbed into his buggy, and Samuel made his way back into the barn. He knew the families behind him would begin filing back in toward the waiting room, knew he had another three hours of work ahead, but the idea of Annie by his side made the afternoon’s work less bleak.

  His earlier thoughts of courting her had been impetuous, of course. He could see that now.

  But there was nothing wrong with thinking of her as a colleague—the girl had proven herself to have a calm head on her shoulders and solid training to boot.

  Sharon Smucker would be in capable hands.

  15

  The afternoon passed even more quickly than the morning. Samuel looked up from his notation book, expecting to see another patient, and instead his gaze traveled once, twice, three times across the empty stall.

  Where was his next patient?

  Wondering what the problem might be, and hearing no one, he went in search of Annie, or Charity, or the next person who had managed to find a new and creative way to blunder into a farming instrument.

  The place remained eerily quiet. Perhaps the girls had run into some problem. Maybe someone needed help with a buggy.

  Or it could be Annie and Charity had found his new litter of border collie pups. Following the sound of their murmured exclamations, he found them in the back corner of his barn, pouring all their attention on the hounds.

  “Are you telling me there are no people who deserve your astute medical skills more than these dogs do?”

  “The people have all gone, Samuel. We’re a fast team.” Annie glanced up and smiled, as a puppy attempted to lick at her chin. “Why didn’t you tell me you had pups? They’re adorable.”

  Both girls sat cross-legged in the area he’d partitioned for the mother and six pups. The hound looked relieved to have someone else looking after her brood for a few minutes. She made her way over to the water dish and began to lap at it, then walked to a patch of afternoon sunlight, stretched, circled twice, and curled up in a ball.

  The pups were out of the girls’ laps in a split-second, falling over each other in their efforts to scamper across the stall and land on top of their mama.

  “Imagine what Reba would do if she saw these,” Charity said, her voice rising in excitement.

  “She’d try to hide one in her pocket no doubt.” Annie stood and began brushing straw off her dark blue dress. “How old are they?”

  “Are they all spoken for?” Charity asked.

  Samuel pulled at his beard, as if he were trying to remember. Both girls put their hands to their hips, and he began to laugh. “All right. As a matter of fact, I believe I might have an extra, if Reba is interested. Speak with her about them, and let me know what you all decide.”

  Annie and
Charity exchanged a knowing look.

  “She’ll be interested all right,” Charity said as she walked out of the stall. “The question is whether Mamm will tolerate another four legs around the place or not.”

  “We won’t be asking Reba though. The pup will make an excellent Christmas present.” Annie smiled up at him, and Samuel felt another piece of the ice around his heart melt and slide to the ground.

  “Better than the scarf I’ve been knitting her,” Charity admitted with a shake of her head.

  Annie laughed as they all studied the pups. “She’ll appreciate the scarf, but she’ll probably use it to wrap up the pup.”

  “They’ll be fine cattle dogs.” Samuel ran his fingers through his beard. “I know your father is considering running dairy cows on the southern portion of his land.”

  “Would be a gut spring project for Reba, training one.” Annie stooped down and ran her hand over the smallest pup, a black and white mix that had fallen fast asleep while the others nursed.

  “I’m not sure Reba needs another project, but perhaps it would help her forget the rodents,” Charity conceded. “If we’re done here, I’ll go and ready Blaze.”

  “Let me do that, Charity.” Samuel moved to stop her.

  “Nonsense. I’ve done nothing the last hour. I need to stretch my legs.”

  She’d walked out of sight before he could offer a gut argument.

  “I appreciate you and your schweschder coming, Annie. Usually I’m not finished until near dark.” Samuel glanced out at the afternoon sun. “I’ll be able to put in a few hours of work still.”

  “Or you could rest.” Annie’s voice landed somewhere between teasing and scolding. “You do rest, Samuel. Right? You do remember what it means to find other activities to occupy your time?”

  “Ya, I believe I heard someone speak about it at our last Sunday meeting.”

  She reached out and pushed at him playfully as she walked past.

  He’d noticed that about her lately—the more comfortable she was around a person, the more she showed it with small touches.

  Or maybe he was noticing because he’d been alone so long, but since Annie had returned he found himself seeking out her company. Being sociable seemed like a new thing to him, rather like wearing a new shirt. Part of him wanted to settle for what was old and comfortable, but another part couldn’t resist her.