by Sarah Price
“Oh, Ivan . . . ”
He cut her off, wanting to finish what he clearly had practiced before coming over that evening. “You never knew this, I’m sure, but Susan left shortly after that day, Maem. I hear from her once or twice a year,” he said, lowering his eyes. Grace could tell from his expression that Ivan was hesitant to continue. She waited, both anxious and fearful of what he would say. “Her life isn’t easy, Maem. Her marriage didn’t last. He left her a few years after they married, and she’s had to fend for herself.” Ivan lifted his eyes and met her worried gaze. “But she’s a survivor and refuses handouts. I’ve offered her money in the past and she always refuses.”
Grace took a deep breath. Finally! Precious details of her daughter’s life. How many years had she longed to know? How many nights had she prayed to God to protect her daughter, the lost sheep? “Do you think . . . ” She hesitated. After so many years and so much hurt, would it be possible? she thought. “Mayhaps you might contact her and arrange that I could see her?”
Ivan studied her face. Grace wondered what he saw there. Certainly she could not hide the inner conflict that she felt, a mixture of both grief and guilt. How long had she battled to remain loyal to both her husband and her daughter?
“I can do that,” he replied, his words drawn out and thoughtful. “Might be good for you both to reconnect, I reckon. But I want you to realize that Daed was right in his way, you know. A vow taken and broken is not something to be overlooked lightly. She became a part of the world, and not one that was kind to her. She abandoned her heritage and faith after committing to honor it and to honor God. I understand now why Daed did what he did. And I understand how I too contributed to our rift. So I’m also here to ask you for your forgiveness.”
Forgiveness? The earnestness in his voice reminded her so much of Menno from that night fifty years earlier when Menno had begged for her parents’ blessing on the night prior to their wedding. The memory made Grace smile. “My dear son,” she said, a feeling of joy filling her whole body. She couldn’t remember a time when she had felt such elation. “There has never been anything to forgive!”
There was so much catching up to do that neither one of them knew where to start. For five years, Grace had not been a mother to her son. But she found that she slipped back into the role with ease. After all, it was one of two roles that she treasured: that of mother as well as wife.
Suggesting that they move into the kitchen so that she could fix him some supper, Grace could hardly keep herself from doting over him. She asked about each of the children and if he had heard from Linda. He told her about the farm and how the crops had been abundant last year, a fortunate blessing after the previous year when too much rain had flooded the fields.
By the time she served him homemade pumpkin pie with coffee, her mind wandered back to the letter. She had hoped that Ivan had something to do with her secret sister; now she knew otherwise.
“Don’t you wonder who sent you the letter, Ivan?” she asked before taking a sip of her coffee.
“There was another note in the envelope with his letter, an unsigned note that said Daed wanted me to come here to you on this very day.”
She raised her eyebrows, surprised by this news. Could it be, she wondered, that her secret sister had orchestrated this reunion? And why? “That’s rather curious,” she managed to reply. “And why today, then?”
With a shrug of his shoulders, he started to cut the piece of pie with his fork and then paused. “You never asked to see the letter. Aren’t you curious to read his words?”
She shook her head. How could she explain the emotions that she felt at that moment? Elation at returning to the farm? Joy at being reconnected with at least part of her family? Pride that Menno had corrected a wrong done so many years ago, but in a way that did not compromise his faith? But there was something else, lingering under the surface of her emotions: disappointment. Disappointment that he had thought to leave a letter for Ivan and even prepared to have it sent after his death, but there had been no letter for her. After giving so much of her life to Menno, she couldn’t possibly understand why he had the foresight to communicate with Ivan, writing a letter two years before he died, but he had not taken the time to write one to her.
“I think you might want to,” Ivan said. “There’s something in the letter, Maem, for you.”
“For me?” she asked incredulously. “Ach, Ivan! You should have told me so!”
He reached back into his pocket for the letter. Reaching inside, he withdrew a small slip of paper. It had her name on it. As he handed it to her, Grace immediately knew two things: the handwriting was a woman’s, and the note was not from Menno.
But she took it from Ivan anyway and unfolded it.
“What on earth?” She squinted through her glasses and leaned closer to the light. Her eyes read the words, but they didn’t make sense. “It’s a riddle!”
“I saw that,” Ivan admitted. “Do you know what it means?”
She read it once again, this time out loud. “‘A Christmas program. A Christmas book. Between the pages, take a good look.’” Grace clicked her tongue and shook her head. “I never heard of such a thing! This secret sister is such a mystery,” she said.
But as she read the words again a third time, something dawned on her. Hadn’t she attended the students’ program that very afternoon and received a notebook filled with letters and scriptures from the children?
“Why, I just wonder . . . ”
Without saying a word, she stood up and hurried into her bedroom where she had left the binder. She hadn’t had time to read through it when she returned, for she had focused on the preparations for Ivan’s visit. Carrying it back to the table, she showed it to Ivan and explained what had happened at the school program.
Together, they flipped through the pages, reading each letter and Bible verse. She smiled at some of the drawings from the smaller children; the little people they drew were simple circles with stick legs and arms. She remembered when her own children drew the same way. Toward the end of the book, their handwriting and drawings became a bit more intricate and sophisticated.
And then she turned a page and her eyes fell upon a drawing that made her catch her breath.
“What is it, Maem?”
She lifted her hand and pressed the back of it to her lips. For the second time that evening, she was speechless. It was a purple iris drawn in the lower corner. Around the edge of the paper was a crisscross drawing in the same colors as the handkerchief she had been given. She turned the next page and there was a poem, funny and clever, about pumpkin bread. In anticipation, she looked beside it to the right page, and sure enough, someone had written out the words to Song 51. And so it continued, each page representing one of the gifts from her secret sister: the blue diary, the scripture from Thanksgiving, a recipe for sugar cookies, and a drawing of the retirement home. On the last page, the words to “Silent Night” were written. But unlike the other pages, this one did not lie flat. There was something tucked behind it.
As she slipped her hand into the plastic sleeve and in between the two pieces of paper, she felt it: another envelope.
“I don’t believe this,” she whispered.
Her hands shook and she had to take a few deep breaths before she could turn it over. But she already knew without having to look. The envelope was addressed to her and the handwriting was Menno’s. Only this handwriting was not from 2013. It was harder to read and was most certainly written after he had the stroke.
The color drained from her face, and despite her best efforts not to cry, her vision blurred and she quickly wiped the tears away with her free hand.
To my Grace,
We have spent nearly fifty years together, enjoying the good times and holding up each other during the bad ones.
We have truly honored our vows.
I know my time to leave this world is coming. And if I know you, my Grace, you will continue to honor me after my death.
Now that you are holding this letter, you should have received my gifts, reminders of the important events in your life. And it is high time that you return to the farm and live out the rest of your life where you belong—right alongside Ivan, Jane, and their kinner. That is my final gift to you, my faithful fraa.
Blessings and love, Your husband, Menno
Stunned, she sat there at the table, the letter clutched between her two hands and pressed against her heart. How is this possible? she asked herself. How could it be that her secret sister was not a sister at all but her husband? Her deceased husband?
“I just don’t believe this,” she whispered, tears returning to her eyes. “It’s just not possible.”
Ivan reached out and touched her arm. “You all right, Maem?”
She looked up, still in a daze from the letter’s revelation. “What?” she asked.
“Are you all right?”
Steadying her nerves, she folded the letter and slipped it back into the envelope. She laid it flat upon the table and ran a finger across the shaky lettering on the front. From the horse auction where they had met until this very moment when she received this treasure, this glorious letter that Menno had crafted along with a clever trail of gifts that coincided with such important and life-changing events, she had been blessed. Even during the times of hardship, the tough decisions and tears, she had been blessed because Menno had been by her side. Even now, during the very time when she had been contemplating her future, Menno had been beside her all along, supporting her.
She smiled, no more tears in her eyes.
“Oh ja, Ivan,” she said, placing a hand over his that still rested on her arm. “I’m more than all right. After all, I’m going home at last.”
EPILOGUE
December 24, 2015
THE SOUND OF the children, the younger ones running about the room, made Grace smile. She sat in a padded rocking chair, her feet gently pushing against the floor. In the kitchen, Jane and her oldest daughter, Lydia, were busy preparing for the Christmas feast. The room smelled like fresh pecan and pumpkin pies mixed with the scent of smoky ham. Levi and Ivan walked into the room, carrying a long folding table from the basement. It needed to be set up in order to accommodate all of the family members who would arrive the following day.
Both Barbie and Samuel followed behind them, each carefully carrying a large box. When Grace saw them, she set down her crocheting and hurried to her feet. “Let me help you with that,” she said, reaching out to take the heavy box from Samuel’s hands.
But he shook his head vigorously. “I got it, Mammi Grace,” he said, and made certain that he gently set down the box on the other table. At ten, Samuel clearly wanted to show his grandmother that he was almost a man, if not as strong as one. She held back a smile and merely went about unpacking the boxes.
They contained Barbara Beiler’s china. Grace had insisted that they use the china for the Christmas meal. With Jane’s two sisters and one brother bringing their families to the meal, the extra place settings were welcomed. By Grace’s calculations, over forty people would share fellowship together, celebrating the birth of Jesus Christ.
Ivan rubbed the base of his back and assessed the two long tables. “Best go fetch the other one, ja?” He didn’t wait for a response, adding, “These two might not quite do it, I reckon.” He proceeded to return toward the basement, twenty-two-year-old Levi quietly following him.
“Do you think we’ll have enough benches and chairs?” Grace asked, stepping back for a moment while Barbie spread a white tablecloth over the one table.
“For sure,” Jane replied, looking over her shoulder. “Levi has two benches and I’m almost certain we’ve got another two down in the cellar. With the folding chairs, we should be right as rain!”
“Snow, Maem,” seven-year-old Benjamin corrected. “It’s winter!”
Jane made a show of thinking about that for a second before she quipped, “Right as snow? That don’t sound right, now, does it?”
The children laughed at their mother’s joke and Grace felt the warmth of the household fill her from the inside out. What a glorious present, she thought as she looked around the room. It was a gift from Menno to be reunited with the family.
Beside her, she felt a hand tug at her skirt and she turned around to see five-year-old Verna. “Oh, my, Verna,” Grace said. “Would you mind helping your grossmammi? I need to set these plates out on the table. That sure would be a big help.”
Verna grinned, still shy around Grace. But she happily began moving the plates from the box onto the cloth-covered table.
“Someone’s come visiting,” Jane called out, standing on her toes as she looked out the window over the kitchen sink. “Wasn’t expecting anyone.” She glanced at Lydia. “Were you?”
“Nee, Maem.”
Wiping her hands on a dish towel, Jane turned around and quickly looked about the room. Grace followed her gaze and saw the toys on the floor, left from the two youngest ones, Benjamin and Verna. The floor also needed a good sweeping. With so many people walking in and out, from outside and downstairs, the dirt had collected.
“Now don’t go fretting about that,” Grace said, her voice soothing as she tried to calm down her daughter-in-law. “It’s Christmas Eve and no one can expect a perfect haus before such a day.”
“I reckon,” Jane admitted, but without sounding overly convinced. Since Verna’s birth, she had become a fastidious house cleaner, always concerned that things be put away orderly. “Best go see who’s come.”
Verna and Grace had just finished setting one half of the table, Barbie busy covering the other half so that they could continue setting out the plates, when Jane walked back into the kitchen, a young woman following her.
“Grace, you have company,” she said with a quizzical smile.
The young woman stepped out of the shadows and removed her dark bonnet. Grace recognized her at once and caught her breath from the surprise. “Why, Catharine Yoder,” she exclaimed, unable to conceal her astonishment. “Whatever brings you here on this night?”
Catharine stepped forward, the same spring in her step as Grace remembered from the school program, less than a week ago. Her eyes sparkled and she reached out to grasp Grace’s hand. “I can stay for only a few minutes,” she said. “But when I heard that you had moved back with your family, I knew that I needed to stop by to wish you the most blessed Christmas ever.”
Grace wasn’t certain how to respond. If someone had asked her to take twenty guesses who might surprise her with a Christmas Eve visit from her former g’may, she never would have guessed Catharine Yoder. “I must confess that I’m quite taken by surprise.”
The young woman laughed, a sweet sound that made Jane and Lydia smile as they looked over their shoulders, equally curious as to the purpose of this visit.
“I wanted to let you know how honored we were,” Catharine said. “It was a true blessing to help Bishop Beiler with his special project. The students and I had such a wunderbarr time trying to figure out how to get his gifts to you.”
Reaching down, Grace put her hand onto the tabletop to keep herself steady. “You?”
Another soft laugh was accompanied by an enthusiastic nod of her head. “Ja, and the students!” She sighed. “When Lizzie told me that Bishop Beiler wanted to speak with me, I was surprised. But then he explained his plan and how he wanted the school to be involved. He had everything organized and with specific instructions all written out when he discovered he had cancer. After his stroke, he knew his time was near, and that’s why he asked to see me. When he passed away shortly after and I realized the purpose of the secret-sister gifts, I was truly humbled to be a part of his plan.”
Grace’s mouth dropped open and she tried to find the words to speak. Hadn’t she specifically asked Catharine if she was the secret sister?
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“Oh, I know what you’re thinking,” Catharine said. “That’s why I wanted to come see you before Christmas. That night after the school program when you asked if I was the secret sister, I answered honestly: I wasn’t. Your husband merely asked us to be the messengers.”
“I . . . I don’t know what to say.”
Catharine smiled. “Don’t say anything. It was so romantic, what your Menno did. A true gift of love.”
Standing behind Grace, twelve-year-old Barbie giggled, and Grace suppressed a smile at the young woman’s openly expressed sentiment.
“Vell, anyway,” Catharine added. “I wanted to share that with you. I felt it was important, being that you were so curious and it was such a special Christmas present, don’t you think?”
Despite Jane’s offer to stay for a cup of coffee, Catharine begged off, explaining that she had planned this visit to coincide with another one nearby. But before she left, she gave Grace an embrace and held her for just a moment, whispering into her ear, “Merry Christmas, Grace.” And, like a whirlwind that had blown in through the door, she bid her good-byes and quickly left.
The room remained quiet for a few long moments, Grace standing there at the table as she realized what she had just learned. The question of the who and the why had been answered. Now the missing piece fell into place: the how. The thought of all those children working so hard in unison to help her husband fulfill his final wish—to bring together the family and correct the wrong from so many years ago—left her bereft of speech. And he had orchestrated it all to come to fruition at Christmas, the time for rejoicing and celebrating with loved ones.
Menno had known that his death was imminent, and his final wish had been to ensure that she’d be cared for, that she would enjoy her life-right. Yet he knew her well enough that a simple letter outlining his final wishes would not be sufficient. She would remain faithful to his memory after his passing just as she had been faithful to his words during his life. So instead, he had guided her along the path leading to the golden years of her life, including the visit to the retirement center just two days before Ivan’s visit. He had known what she would be thinking and that she would not want to live alone for the rest of her life. Only when her emotions were so raw would she be ready for the visit from Ivan. And while Menno didn’t know whether Ivan would accept the request from his deceased and estranged father, Menno did know that Grace understood her choices. While guiding her under the pretense of a secret sister, he had left her the chance to decide on her own whether to live out her days in the retirement home or to accept a home with Ivan’s family.