Rachel watched as Sarah continued with Holly, brushing her hair back and struggling to put it into a very short ponytail. “I don’t think there’s enough here yet to make a bun,” Sarah told her. “But it will grow . . . in time.” She made a tsk-tsk sound. “A girl should never cut her hair.” She reached to the dresser for a white bonnet that looked just like the one she was wearing. “Now, for your kapp.”
“My cap?” Holly tilted her head to one side.
“Hold still,” Sarah insisted as she secured the kapp to Holly’s head. Thankfully she did not use straight pins to do this. Instead, she used four large bobby pins and seemed to know exactly how to do it. “There,” she said proudly. “You are ready.”
Holly looked at Rachel now. “What about you?”
Rachel held up her hands. “What do you mean—what about me?”
“Where’s your Amish dress, Aunt Rachel? Sarah says that to go to Amish church you must wear an Amish dress.”
Rachel shrugged. “Then I guess I won’t be going to church today.”
Holly frowned. “But you have to go.”
Rachel shook her head but was secretly relieved. Some alone time was sounding good right now. “I’m sorry, Holly. I just don’t see how I can go without a dress. You’ll have to go without me, but when you get back you must promise to tell me all about it. Okay?”
“Okay.” Holly nodded with uncertainty.
“Now we must hurry to eat breakfast,” Sarah instructed, and taking Holly’s hand, she hurried out of the room and down the stairs.
Rachel grabbed up Holly’s fur-trimmed scarlet hood and headed downstairs too. She chuckled at the bright coat. At least that would show some of Holly’s individuality!
Breakfast was oatmeal, but thankfully there was coffee too. Without saying anything to Lydia, Rachel helped herself to a cup, then almost wished she hadn’t. Did they really drink this stuff? After doctoring it with cream and sugar, which she normally wouldn’t do, she went to the table and sat down next to Holly. Sarah was nearly done with her oatmeal, but Holly was picking at hers, and Rachel knew it wasn’t the kind Holly was used to.
“Daniel and the boys have gone next door to set up the benches,” Lydia told Rachel as she set a bowl of oatmeal in front of her.
“The benches?” Rachel looked down at the clumpy oatmeal and wondered if she was really hungry.
“For church,” Sarah explained. “It’s at Mammi’s barn today.”
“Mammi’s barn?” Holly questioned. “Who is Mammi and why is church in a barn and not in a church?”
“Mammi is your grandmother,” Sarah told her.
“I have a grandmother?” Holly’s eyes grew large.
“Ja. She was your mudder’s mudder and mine too,” Lydia explained. “And church is always in a barn, Holly. Everyone takes turns having it. The men go early to set up benches. Usually we go in the buggy, but today is good because we can walk. We do not need to harness up the horse.”
Holly looked disappointed. “No horse and buggy?” she asked.
“Not today, liebschen.” Lydia smiled. “Another day we will go in the buggy.”
Holly poked at her oatmeal.
“You do not like oatmeal?” Lydia asked.
“She’s used to a different kind,” Rachel told her.
“Oh . . .” Lydia went to a cupboard. “I know how to make her like it.” She quickly returned with a jar of brown sugar and a square of butter. “Try it like this, Holly.”
To Rachel’s surprise, Holly loved the improved oatmeal. Rachel was glad to see she was getting something solid in her tummy, but still, she felt dismayed . . . as if she was steadily losing her.
“Sarah tells me you are not going to church,” Lydia said to Rachel, but Rachel could tell by the gleam in Lydia’s eyes that she was pleased with this news. “And that is best, I think. You will want to get an early start on your travels.”
“My travels?”
Lydia’s heavy, dark brows arched. “Ja. You are going home today, recht?”
Rachel waved her hand toward the bare window, wondering why none of their windows had curtains—just one more thing she did not understand. “I don’t really see how I can drive in all that snow.”
“Oh, that is nothing, that snow. You can drive in it just fine.”
“Have you seen our car?” Rachel asked. “It’s not exactly made for these kind of driving conditions.”
“Surely your car can drive through a little snow.” Lydia looked unimpressed. “And the main road will be better, I think.”
Rachel didn’t want to go into all the reasons why she couldn’t drive back to Chicago this morning—primarily because she was not ready to abandon her only niece. She decided that if there were things Lydia didn’t have time to explain—like why one pinned clothing on to young children—then perhaps she shouldn’t expect Rachel to explain why she didn’t want to drive a little old sports car over dangerous snowy roads.
Fortunately, Lydia didn’t pursue this topic further. Instead, she hurried the girls through breakfast, then insisted it was time to go. When Rachel went to get Holly’s red coat, however, Lydia held up her hands. “No, no, that will not do.” Instead, she pulled out a dark gray sort of cloak, wrapping it around Holly. It didn’t seem very substantial.
“But you’re going to be in a barn,” Rachel pointed out. “Will she be warm enough in that? Her parka is down-filled, and that cotton dress is thin.”
“She will be good,” Lydia said. “It is how we do it here.” She locked eyes with Rachel now, as if inviting her to challenge this.
Rachel just sighed. “Well, she’d better not come down with pneumonia or I’ll be taking her straight back to Chicago with me. Even if we have to charter a plane to get there.”
Lydia’s eyes flashed, but instead of responding, she just played the part of a mother hen, ushering the girls out of the kitchen. “Hurry, hurry. We do not want to be late, kinder.”
The house grew very quiet with everyone gone, and for a long time, Rachel just sat at the dining table, gazing out the window over the vast white snowy fields with occasional trees and other homesteads and barns to break it up. It was truly beautiful . . . peaceful . . . bucolic . . . serene. This would be a lovely location for a home—that is, if it were a more modern home and not smack in the middle of this weird Amish community.
She could imagine a comfortable house with central heat and appliances and a TV or source of music, as well as a few of the other modern comforts. And perhaps instead of the plain woodstove, it would have a tall stone fireplace with a crackling fire. Thinking of this reminded her of how Daniel had kept the fire going last night. She wondered if she should do something to keep it going now. She wasn’t very familiar with woodstoves, but it seemed simple enough to put a piece or two of wood in it. Finding only a few sticks of wood in the woodbox next to it, she carefully opened the door and, seeing only red coals, decided to slip these last pieces in. It was better than nothing. Besides, if the fire ran out, it seemed that the house would chill down significantly. She’d have thought these practical-minded people would’ve thought of this. However, they seemed somewhat oblivious to their own comfort. Their furniture was hard, their clothes were funny, and their bathroom . . . well, she didn’t even want to get thinking on the fact that a family of six, and their two guests who made eight, shared one single bathroom.
Satisfied with her initiative to keep from freezing, she decided to go make herself useful by finishing the cleaning up in the kitchen. She knew that Lydia had started on it, but there were still some dishes and the oatmeal pan to be washed. By now, Rachel knew how to work the pump at the sink. And she knew the big kettle of hot water on the stove was for washing dishes. Hard work to be certain, but perhaps it would help justify her free room and board if she helped whenever she could. She did not want to feel beholden to Lydia. The fact of the matter was she didn’t much care for Lydia. And she knew that Lydia did not care for her. Lydia would probably like nothing better t
han to come home to find the red Karmann Ghia gone from the driveway and Rachel far away on her “travels,” even if that meant totaling the car or ending up in a ditch.
By the time she had the kitchen cleaned, nearly an hour had passed. Still feeling chilled in the less than cozy house, she decided to go off in search of more firewood. Surely, with all these guys around, there had to be a nice supply somewhere. She got her coat and boots, which weren’t really snow boots, but at least they went above her ankles. She went outside and set out to find the firewood.
Of course, she was barely out the door before the big black dog raced toward her, but at least he wasn’t barking this time. Not very familiar with farm dogs, she didn’t know what to expect. “Hello, Blue,” she said in a friendly voice when he stopped right in front of her. She held out her hand with the palm down so he could sniff. She thought she’d read somewhere that was how to befriend a dog. His tail began to wag and she considered that a positive sign. “Good dog,” she said as she carefully patted his head, then scratched his ear, which he seemed to appreciate. “You’re a good old boy, aren’t you? Just protecting your family.” She stood up and looked around. “Do you happen to know where they keep the wood?”
He followed her with interest as she walked around searching for a woodshed; then spying a small outbuilding near the kitchen side of the house, she went over to investigate. Upon opening the door, she was surprised to discover it was actually an outhouse. Okay, so she’d been wrong—this house had one and a half baths. Not that she’d call this a half—more like a fourth—although it was a two-seater. Then getting a whiff of something less than pleasant, she slammed the wood door shut and hurriedly backed away. She hoped to never be desperate enough to have to use that.
She looked over to the barn. Was it possible they kept their firewood in there? Since there was a nicely shoveled trail leading from the back porch to the barn, she decided to go find out. On the way she could see tracks leading away from there, and she assumed it must’ve been how the family had gotten to the neighboring farm, where apparently Holly’s grandmother lived. Rachel was curious to meet Miri’s mother, and she wondered if a mother might be curious to hear about her daughter’s adult life—or even more, about how she’d died. It seemed only natural.
She and Blue were nearly to the barn and just walking past what looked like a watering trough, when—just like that—her feet went flying out from under her and she found herself lying flat on her back with the wind knocked out of her. Ice! Shocked and embarrassed as Blue curiously looked down on her, she did at least feel grateful that he was the only witness. She remained motionless on the ground, taking inventory of her limbs and deciding nothing was broken. About to sit up, she heard the sound of footsteps crunching in the snow.
“Are you all right?” a deep voice inquired.
Feeling self-conscious for her clumsiness, she sat up and looked to see a man dressed in an outfit very similar to what Daniel and the boys had been wearing yesterday, standing next to Blue and peering down on her. “That was quite a fall. Did you hurt anything?” Unlike Daniel, this man’s face was clean shaven, with no funny-looking beard, and below the wide brim of his black felt hat, she spied thick dark hair, peppered with gray. She wondered about his age and suspected he was older than Miri—maybe late thirties. However, it was the eyes that captivated her. Warm and brown, they twinkled with concern mixed with curiosity.
“You mean besides my pride?” She frowned.
“No broken bones?”
“I don’t think so.”
He extended a hand and she gratefully grasped it, but as soon as she was on her feet, she started slipping around on the slick surface, and he actually had to grab hold of her to keep her from going down again.
“There’s quite an ice rink right here,” he said as he guided her to safer ground. “Someone left the trough water running last night and it overflowed and froze.”
“I should’ve been more careful.” She extracted herself from him, brushing the snow and ice off of her slightly dampened backside.
“What are you doing out here anyway?” he asked.
“Looking for firewood.”
“Firewood?” He reached up and scratched his chin. “Out in the barn?”
“Well, I couldn’t find any around the house and the woodstove was about to go out. So I thought—”
“How about if I show you where they hide it,” he said.
“They hide it?”
He chuckled. “Sorry. Just kidding.”
She turned to peer at him as he led her back toward the house. Was he really Amish, and, if so, why wasn’t he as solemn and serious as the others? “Who are you anyway?” she asked. Suddenly she imagined a scene from a scary movie—the kind where the guy befriends the lone woman and then instead of helping her find firewood, he comes at her wielding an ax and a wicked smile.
“I’m Benjamin Schrock.”
“Oh?” The name was vaguely familiar but didn’t exactly ring a bell.
“Miriam’s brother.” He peered curiously at her. “And you’re Rachel Milligan, Michael Milligan’s sister and Miriam’s sister-in-law and Holly’s aunt.” He sighed. “I’m sorry for your loss, Rachel.”
She blinked, as much taken aback by his knowledge of her identity as she was with his sympathy. She suddenly felt close to tears. “Well, yes . . . I’m sorry for your loss too, Benjamin.” She turned to study him. “You’re really Miri’s brother?”
He just nodded.
She watched him closely as they walked back toward the house. Although his hair was dark, his eyes seemed similar to Miri’s and something about his profile felt familiar too.
“I still can’t believe she’s gone,” he said as he led her over to what looked like a rectangular igloo covered in snow. He brushed some snow off the top of what appeared to be a box, then flipped open the lid to reveal rows of neatly stacked firewood. “Voilà.”
“Voilà?” She peered curiously at him. “That’s not exactly an Amish word.”
He laughed. “There are all kinds of Amish, Rachel.”
She smiled, thinking that was actually something of a relief. Maybe there was more to the Amish than she realized. She reached into the box for a piece of wood.
“Here, let me help.” He stuck out his arms like a rack. “Go ahead and load me up.”
She layered on a fairly hefty load of firewood, and then satisfied, she closed the lid and they both walked into the house together, where she unloaded the pieces one by one into the woodbox by the fireplace. Before she could get to it, Benjamin opened the woodstove, and after stirring the coals with a poker, he inserted several good-sized pieces of wood, then slammed the door shut and adjusted some sort of knob. “There, that should keep the place good and warm until church is over.”
“How long does church last?”
He looked over at the clock by the stairs. “At least another hour or so. And then they will stay longer to eat afterward. Are you going to go over and join them for lunch?”
She shrugged uncomfortably. “I, uh, I don’t think so.”
He frowned. “Meaning Lydia didn’t invite you?”
She shrugged again.
“Well, I know my mother—Miriam’s mother—wants to meet you.”
She waved her hands as if to show her clothing. “I don’t have the right attire to go over there.”
He made an exasperated sigh. “You’re not Amish, Rachel. No one expects you to change your appearance in order to mix with the Amish. That’s ridiculous.”
“Really?” She frowned. “That’s not the impression I got.”
He shook his head. “Don’t mind Lydia. I heard that her nose is out of joint because you’re here.” He glanced around the room. “By the way, where’s Holly? I’d love to meet my niece.”
“Lydia took her to church.” Rachel grimaced. “After Sarah dressed her up like a little Amish doll.”
“And you don’t approve?” He tipped his head to one side.
&n
bsp; “I don’t know how I feel exactly.” She bit her lip, wondering how much to say to Lydia’s brother. Was he really to be trusted? “So . . . why aren’t you at church?” she asked impertinently.
He looked down, plucked some wood slivers from his jacket sleeve, and dropped them into the firewood box. “I came over here to check on a cow that’s fixed to calve. It’s what I’d call an unplanned pregnancy.” He chuckled. “Meaning it’s pretty early in the winter for birthing calves, but sometimes nature just takes its own road.” He smiled at her and his eyes twinkled. “But it was nice to meet you, Rachel. Now if you’ll excuse me, I want to make sure Buttercup is all right. I’m not sure if she’s going to drop this calf today or tomorrow, but I know it won’t be long now.”
“Sure,” she said. “And thanks for helping me.” The little girl inside of her wanted to ask if she could go with him to the barn and admit she’d never seen the birthing of a calf before and that it sounded interesting—but the stubborn grown-up inside of her dug her heels in. She was not going to let anyone or anything pull her into this backward Amish world. The more she disliked it, the harder she would work to save Holly from getting stuck here.
8
Rachel stood in front of the fire for a while in an attempt to dry out her jeans that had gotten dampened on her unexpected fall. She wished she would’ve packed another pair of pants now. Although she’d brought along an extra sweater and shirt, she had planned to make these jeans last the day or two she’d expected to be here. Perhaps she hadn’t thought things through well enough.
With her jeans dried, she started pacing back and forth in the living room, trying to think of a strategy—a way to get Holly out of here before it was too late—when she heard the front door creak open. She jumped, turning to see that it was Benjamin again.
“Sorry to startle you,” he said. “But I thought I should take you over to have some lunch and to meet Mamm.”
“Oh?”
“Come on,” he urged. “No one really cares how you’re dressed. It’s not like they think you’re Amish.”
A Simple Christmas Wish Page 7