“Tea would be lovely, danki.”
Rachel Ann smiled as she listened to Lovina greeting her parents and Sam. She carried the tea and a plate of cookies and pumpkin muffins into the living room and set them down on the coffee table.
Sam sat on Lovina’s lap, helping her unwrap the present his parents had gotten her. Typical Sam, he couldn’t keep a secret. “It’s towels!” he announced before she pulled off the last piece of wrapping paper.
Lovina smiled as she held up the embroidered kitchen dish towels. “These are lovely, Martha. Danki.”
Rachel Ann reached for the present she’d gotten for Lovina and handed it to her. “Sam can’t tell you what it is because he didn’t see me wrap it,” she told her wryly.
Lovina gave her a delighted grin when Sam pulled off the paper and she saw the package of assorted specialty teas they sold at the bakery.
“I can’t wait to sample one of these! There’s nothing better than a special cup of tea.” Her gaze was warm on Rachel Ann . . . and she wondered if she saw a hint of sadness in her expression or if it was her imagination. Lovina had always been so welcoming to her when she was growing up.
She visited with them for a while, and she’d no sooner left than other friends and family came bearing presents.
But as the hours wore on and Abram didn’t come, Rachel Ann’s spirits sank.
Rachel Ann took empty cups to the kitchen to wash them and stood there staring out the window. Lovina’s words suddenly came to her: If the mountain won’t come to Mohammed, Mohammed will come to the mountain. Could she summon up the courage to go try to talk to Abram?
She dried her hands on a dish towel and ran upstairs to her room for Abram’s present. Her mother walked into the kitchen with more cups and looked surprised when she saw Rachel Ann buttoning her jacket.
“I’m just going to take Abram his present.”
Her mother nodded. “Tell him I said Merry Christmas.”
“I will.” She had no idea what his reaction would be to her.
The temperature had dropped at least ten degrees since she’d been outside sweeping the snow off the front porch earlier. She was glad she’d put on her jacket instead of just snatching up a shawl as Lovina had done.
She knocked at the front door. Abram opened it and stared at her, looking surprised.
“I wasn’t expecting you,” he said after a long moment.
“I know.” She hated the way he stood there so remote, so reserved, but she didn’t blame him. She thrust his present into his hands. “You didn’t come over with your mamm.”
“I didn’t think you’d want to see me.”
“You were wrong.”
He looked at the present, then at her. “Danki.”
“Can we talk?”
“Now you want to talk?”
She nodded and found herself holding her breath. He sounded so bitter. So . . . final.
“I don’t want to talk,” he said at last. “I—”
She turned and ran down the stairs, tears streaming down her cheeks.
“Rachel Ann!”
She got as far as the steps to her back door and stopped. There was no way she wanted to go inside and have her parents and their guests see her this way. But where to go? She found herself heading down the path to the secret place by the pond where she and Abram had shared so many special times talking.
The secret place looked stark and beautiful, the pond frozen over and icy white, the surrounding trees leafless against the gray winter sky. Icicles hung from the branches, glittering in the late afternoon sunlight, tinkling like wind chimes when a chill wind blew through them.
Miserable, she sank down on the fallen log Abram had dragged over for them to sit on and look at the pond. Memories rushed at her: the one that always came to mind was ten-year-old Abram thinking she was going to be a scaredy-cat girl and scream when he chased her with a frog. She remembered picnics of bologna and cheese sandwiches and whoopie pies and lemonade; wading in the pond on hot summer days and skating on it when it froze over in the winter.
Her tears grew chilly on her cheeks as she sat there wondering how she had made such a big mistake and caused herself such heartache.
She didn’t know how long she sat there, but she became aware she was shaking. It was too cold to sit here. What had she been thinking? She should have hidden in the barn where it was warm. She brushed the tears from her cheeks and stamped her feet. They felt like blocks of ice. Like her heart.
With luck she could slip in the kitchen door, sneak up the stairs to her room, and avoid questions from her parents.
She heard footsteps crunching through the snow behind her and spun around.
* * *
Abram stood at the front door feeling like a heel. Rachel Ann had come to give him a present and asked to talk and he’d said no.
Almost immediately, he’d been sorry and called her back, but she either hadn’t heard or she’d been too upset at his rejection to turn and walk back . . .
Schur, she’d hurt him more than anyone had done in his life, but she’d evidently come to explain or apologize or who knew what—he hadn’t given her a chance to say a word. It wasn’t like him. And it certainly wasn’t the way he should have behaved on a day like today.
“Abram?”
He turned to see his mother standing there staring at him.
“Why are you standing there with the door open?”
Shaking his head, he closed it.
“Was someone at the door?”
He nodded, his eyes on the present in his hands. “Rachel Ann.”
“Why didn’t she come in?”
“Because I’m ab im kop.”
“You’re not crazy.”
“I am.”
“Are you going to open the present or just look at it?”
He ripped off the paper and chuckled when he saw the carved wooden frog. He knew why she’d chosen it—to remind him of how he’d chased her with a real one years ago. It was the perfect present.
His mother took it from him and gave it a look-see. “Cute little guy. Why a frog?”
He grinned. “Years ago, when she was a little girl, I chased her with one, thinking she’d run and scream like other little girls. But she just took it from me and chased me.”
“She’s special. Always has been.”
He nodded.
“So what happened, Abram? It’s obvious something has. Both of you have been looking miserable.”
He didn’t like the idea she thought he’d looked miserable, but he guessed mothers could sense these things no matter how hard you tried to hide them. Then he realized what she’d said. “Her, too? Rachel Ann looked miserable when you went over with her present?”
“Ya.” She handed the frog back to him. “Why did you call yourself an idiot, sohn?”
“She wanted to talk to me and I said no.”
“Why?”
“She hurt me. I—didn’t want her to hurt me more.”
“You don’t think she came over to apologize?”
He sighed and ran an impatient hand through his hair. “Ya, I think she did, and I didn’t give her a chance.”
Lovina nodded and folded her arms across her chest. “So, now what are you going to do?”
Abram handed her the frog. “I’m going to go talk to her.” He headed for the kitchen for his jacket, shrugged it on, and opened the door. “Back in a while!” he called.
He crossed the distance between the two houses quickly and took the back porch stairs two at a time. Martha came to the door.
“Can I see Rachel Ann?”
She frowned. “I thought she was at your house. She took over your present.” When he shook his head, she invited him in. “Let me see if she came in and went up to her room.”
He waited in the kitchen as she climbed the stairs, and when she returned she looked worried. “She’s not there. Where could she be?”
“I’ll go check your barn. If she’s not there maybe she took a
walk.”
“As cold as it is? That doesn’t sound like Rachel Ann.”
“I’ll find her.” He handed her Rachel Ann’s present. “Would you put this somewhere for her?”
“Schur. Let me know. It’s not like her to go somewhere and not tell me.”
Abram checked the barn, but she wasn’t there. He started to turn to walk down the drive when something caught his eye—footsteps in the snow between the houses, down the path leading to the pond. Had she walked down that path to their secret place?
An icy chill ran down his back that had nothing to do with the weather. The bad dream he’d had earlier in the week flashed into his memory, the one where he’d gone looking for Rachel Ann and seen her footprints in the snow, guiding him. He’d followed them and seen her standing at the edge of the pond they’d sat beside talking so many times, staring at something he couldn’t see.
An icy wind swept through the bare tree branches, shaking the glittering icicles and creating a sound like wind chimes. But instead of sounding musical, the sound was ominous. His footsteps quickened, and he began praying as he found himself remembering how in the dream she’d heard him approaching and spun around, her lips parted in surprise.
“We have to talk,” he’d said, and his voice had sounded louder than he intended. He stepped forward.
Rachel Ann had backed up and her feet slipped. Her arms flailed as she tried to gain a foothold on the frozen bank. Abram ran toward her, and their fingertips touched and then hers slipped free. She slid down into the water. He’d jumped in and woke, panting and sweating, his heart pounding. It had taken him hours to sleep again that night.
He wasn’t psychic. He didn’t believe he’d had the dream to warn him of something happening to Rachel Ann. But fear made him rush down the path.
There she was, just ahead, sitting on the log in front of the pond. She heard his footsteps and turned. Her lips parted in surprise as he stopped a few feet in front of her.
“Abram!”
* * *
At first, Rachel Ann thought the cold had gotten to her and she was seeing a mirage. Nee, she told herself—mirages were from the heat in a desert.
“What are you doing here?”
“I went to your house looking for you and got worried when your mamm said you didn’t make it home.”
“Yes, well, I’m allrecht. I just didn’t feel like going home yet.”
“I understand. It’s such a beautiful day,” he said dryly.
“It’s beautiful here,” she said, looking around.
“And cold. C’mon, Rachel Ann, you’re shaking. Let’s get you inside before you catch your death of cold.”
She stood, but when she stepped forward she discovered she couldn’t feel her feet and she pitched forward. Abram caught her and looked at her, concerned.
“My feet fell asleep,” she said, downplaying it. She stamped her feet, trying to warm them up.
He frowned and muttered something she couldn’t understand under his breath. “I hope you haven’t got frostbite. Here, let me carry you.”
“Don’t be dramatic,” she told him, secretly pleased at the idea of him carrying her in his muscular arms. “I can walk.”
Rachel Ann trudged down the path, and he followed her. When they reached her house, he touched her arm.
“You wanted to talk earlier and I turned you down,” he said quietly. “Can I have another chance?”
She looked at him. “You mean it?”
“Please.”
There were two buggies parked in the drive. “We still have company at my house.”
“We can talk at my house. Mamm is in the dawdi haus and won’t disturb us. But let me tell your mamm where you are. She was concerned when I came over here looking for you earlier.”
He told her to go ahead to his house while he went in to talk to her mamm, but she waited for him, hugging herself for warmth. When he emerged a few minutes later with a package wrapped in Christmas paper in his hands, they walked over to his house and went inside. Abram set the package on a table and shed his jacket, but she left hers on for a while until she warmed up. He pulled a hassock up close to the fireplace and insisted she take a seat. Then he knelt and took off her shoes. “Your feet are freezing. Let’s take these stockings off so I can check your toes.”
“I can’t do that!” she said, scandalized.
“Would you rather lose a few toes?” he asked her bluntly.
She pulled off her stockings and wiggled her toes to show him they were fine. Cold but fine.
He rose, pulled a quilt from the back of the sofa, and wrapped it around her shoulders. “I’ll be right back.”
When he returned he carried two mugs. He set hers down on a nearby table and handed her a pair of socks.
Rachel Ann plucked them from his hands before he had a chance to try to slip them on her feet. “Danki.”
She picked up the mug and found he’d brought her hot tea. She warmed her hands with the mug before taking a sip. It was tough to decide which was better—the warm socks or the hot tea.
He dragged a chair over and sat next to her. “So, you wanted to talk.”
She took a deep breath for courage. “I thought I was doing the right thing. But I’ve come to realize maybe I wasn’t being fair to you.”
“I figured you decided to start seeing Michael again.”
She stared at him. Was it possible he felt some insecurity like she sometimes did? It couldn’t be. He always seemed so confident; he’d been self-assured even as a young boy.
“I hope I’ve grown up a lot.” She studied the mug in her hands, afraid to face his direct gaze. “Nee, it was because I had some bad news at the doctor.”
Remembering how alarmed Elizabeth had been when she’d blurted out her news, she hurried on. “The doctor said she doesn’t think I can have kinner.”
“You stopped seeing me because of that?” He set his mug down so hard the crack of pottery on wood startled her.
“I know how important having kinner is to you, to everyone in our community.”
“It’s not more important to me than you!”
He sounded so vehement it surprised her. “I—”
He got to his feet and paced the room. “How could you decide such a thing for me? For us?”
“Abram? Is everything allrecht?” Abram’s mother called from her room.
“Excuse me for a minute.” He walked swiftly to the back of the house, and Rachel Ann heard the murmur of voices, Abram speaking to his mother, but she couldn’t hear what was said.
A door shut, and when he returned he was alone. “She was worried when she heard me raise my voice. It tends to be rather quiet around here.”
“Not like at my house. Sam’s always making a racket.”
Then she wished she hadn’t said it. It just served to bring up the subject of kinner. “I’ve watched you with him,” she said quietly. “Heard you talk about how your dat passed his farm down to you and you hoped to do it with a kind of your own one day. I didn’t want to take it away from you.”
“Do you think I couldn’t love a kind we adopted if it came to it? Do you think I’d only want one if it was biologically mine? It doesn’t say much for what you think of me.”
She set her mug down. Nee, maybe it didn’t, she reflected.
“I thought we shared everything, that we were friends, if we weren’t more these past few weeks. I can tell this is upsetting you and causing you pain.”
“I wanted to be your fraa, to have kinner with you.” Tears rolled down her cheeks. She brushed at them furiously with her free hand.
“You’ll be my fraa, and if God wills it, we’ll have kinner. And we’ll love them however God brings them to us.”
She stared at him, becoming lost in his eyes. He was such a good man. Why had she been so afraid to tell him, to believe any man God set aside for her would love and cherish her no matter what?
“I don’t deserve you.” She gave him a tremulous smile.
He didn’t raise his voice, but he didn’t need to—she heard him. Believed him.
“So are we allrecht?” he asked.
She nodded.
“Gut.” He drew back a little and touched his lips to hers, in a brief but tender kiss. “I didn’t get to thank you for the Christmas present. I can’t wait to see what you think of yours.” He got up to retrieve it from a nearby table and handed it to her.
She unwrapped it and found a little wooden keepsake box, the type she could keep her covering pins and little treasures in. He’d carved delicate little violets on top and painted them pale lavender. She ran her finger over them, thinking how much they looked like the ones near the pond in the spring.
“It’s beautiful,” she breathed. “Danki.”
“There’s more. Open it.”
She lifted the lid and laughed. Inside he’d tucked a little carved green frog—much like the one she’d given him.
“I think I found him at the same store you got my present.”
“He reminds me of the day you chased me.”
“And you chased me back. Best day ever,” he said with a grin.
“’Til now,” she said with a sigh.
He nodded. “’Til now.”
RECIPES
Gingerbread Cookies
3 cups all-purpose flour
1 ½ teaspoons baking powder
¾ teaspoon baking soda
¼ teaspoon salt
1 tablespoon ground ginger
1 ¾ teaspoons ground cinnamon
¼ teaspoon ground cloves
6 tablespoons unsalted butter
¾ cup firmly packed dark brown sugar
1 large egg
½ cup molasses
2 teaspoons vanilla
1 teaspoon finely grated lemon zest (optional)
Directions:
Preheat oven to 375 degrees.
Prepare baking sheets by lining with parchment paper or grease baking sheets with a little shortening.
In a small bowl, whisk together flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt, ginger, cinnamon, and cloves until well blended. In a large bowl beat butter, brown sugar, and egg on medium speed until well blended. Add molasses, vanilla, and lemon zest; continue to mix until well blended. Gradually stir in dry ingredients until blended and smooth.
One True Path Page 19