An Amish Holiday Family

by Jo Ann Brown

  “Me, too.” Tommy, as always, refused to be left out of any conversation.

  “Our turn is coming,” Beth Ann said with a smile. “The kitchen has had to feed a lot of people tonight.”

  Robert nodded. “As soon as a table is cleared, it’ll be your turn.” Squatting so he could look the kids in the eyes, he said, “I’d guess Abby might be willing to make you a church spread sandwich while you wait.”

  “Church spread?” Dougie regarded him with skepticism. “What’s that?”

  “Peanut butter and marshmallow.”

  “Let’s ask Abby,” Tommy said, tugging on his brother’s sleeve.

  “Yes,” Crystal seconded. “Maybe we can help.”

  Robert watched as they scurried into the kitchen, calling to Abby. “You’re going to owe Abby a big favor.”

  “I owe everyone in town for so many blessings I’ve lost count,” Beth Ann replied. “I’ve been told trying to count those blessings is something I shouldn’t do. I should be grateful for others’ kindness and God’s grace.”

  “Shouldn’t we all?”

  When he saw how her eyes glowed with happiness, he sent up a grateful prayer of his own along with a plea God would find him a way to stay in Evergreen Corners with Beth Ann. Was it possible? He had no idea, but he was going to try his best.

  * * *

  The youth choir concert was set for Friday, one week before Christmas Eve on a windy, cold evening. In the past, the choir had performed in the high school’s gym, but the space hadn’t been rebuilt yet, so the program was being held in what everyone called the “little gym” of the elementary school. It was a smaller space used by kindergartners and first graders when the weather was too inclement for them to go outside after lunch. Unlike the high school’s gym, it had concrete floors and a bank of windows along the outer wall. Two sets of double doors opened from the hallway and at the opposite end, two other doors led outside. A simple wooden seat ran beneath the windows from one exterior door to the other.

  At both ends, basketball hoops had been pulled up to the ceiling from their normal spot six feet above the floor, the low height making it simpler for the youngest students to sink balls into the baskets. Wooden folding chairs had been arranged in neat rows. An upright piano sat to the left of two rows of risers, and a music stand waited in front.

  Beth Ann walked with Tommy into the little gym. The wall behind the risers had been covered with long sheets of paper decorated with what she guessed was a Nativity scene drawn in crayon. The camels resembled the cows, and the sheep looked like either dachshunds or earthbound clouds, because some had no legs. The baby in the manger was as big as the depictions of Joseph and Mary while the angel appeared to be in danger of slipping down the slanted roof of the stable. It was obvious the children had put in a lot of time, and it’d been a labor of love. She glanced down at the folded program she’d been given and saw Crystal’s name among the other young artists listed.

  “There he is!” Tommy announced so loudly heads turned. He hurried to where Robert sat.

  She smiled. His gait was much better. It was uneven, as her own was, but with the brace helping correct his slap step, he didn’t look as if he might tip over on every other step.

  Her smile broadened when Robert picked up his hat from two seats beside him. He and Tommy were already chatting about the suspenders the little boy had insisted on wearing.

  Looking past the boy, Robert greeted her with a smile that sent tickles of happiness along her. He shifted so Tommy would sit on her right side, and Robert had the chair on her left.

  “Thank you for coming,” she murmured as the door from the hall opened and the pianist came in to polite clapping.

  “I wouldn’t miss watching this with you for the world,” he replied.

  The tickles became stronger ripples, and she was glad she was prevented from answering by the youth choir following their director into the gym. While the children climbed onto the risers and parents raised their cell phones to begin recording, Beth Ann picked out Dougie in the middle row among the boys. Crystal was on the left-hand side with the other smallest girls. Both wore the most serious expressions she’d ever seen on their faces.

  The youth choir began to sing “The First Noel.” When they did the next verse in harmony, she heard gasps of appreciation. The oldest child couldn’t be more than twelve, and the youngest Crystal’s age, and their youthful voices wove around the melody in a lush sound that filled the gym.

  When they finished, there was a moment of silence. Applause burst out from appreciative family, friends and neighbors before the choir started its next song. Each number was as amazing as the first while the songs told the glorious story of the Savior’s birth.

  Beth Ann’s eyes widened when Dougie edged past the boy in front of him and stepped forward. He looked around the crowd, and his gaze met hers. When she saw fear in his eyes, she offered a bolstering smile, though she wondered what was happening. He gave her one in return.

  The music director bent and murmured something to him, too low for anyone else to hear. Dougie nodded and gulped hard, but he straightened his shoulders as she faced the choir and raised her hands. She nodded to the pianist, who began playing the introduction to “O Holy Night.”

  Dougie alone began to sing, and goose bumps rose on Beth Ann’s arm. His voice was pure and sweet, sending notes wafting through the gym. The words of awe and glory spun out of the boy who’d been abandoned by his mother. The other children joined in the chorus. Their treble voices lilted around his and invited the wind from beyond the gym to complement the music in a deep, rumbling undertone.

  A hand settled over hers on her lap, and she tore her gaze from the choir to look at Robert. Were those tears in his eyes like the ones filling her throat while they listened to the boy—their boy—sing beautifully? Tommy leaned his head against her and wrapped his short arms around hers.

  She knew, without question, this was what she wanted. A life with a family who loved one another. Though she wasn’t sure how Robert felt about her or the children, she knew each of them was in her heart.

  The last note died away, and thunderous applause and cheers erupted through the gym. One person, then others rose as the music director gestured toward Dougie, who took a solemn bow before joining the other children. Beth Ann stood, too, and peered around a tall woman in front of her until she caught the boy’s eyes. She raised her hands over her head, so he could see her clapping.

  The choir did a rousing version of “Joy to the World” as their encore and took a bow along with their director and the pianist before breaking ranks to join their families. Beth Ann held out her arms and swept Dougie and Crystal to her.

  Dougie tried to wriggle away. His face, which had glowed when he was singing, had regained its sullen expression. “Don’t make a big deal of it, okay?”

  Seeing her shock mirrored in Robert’s eyes, Beth Ann said, “Dougie, it’s okay to admit how important the choir is to you.”

  He shook his head. “No, it’s not.”

  She put a hand on his shoulder before he could move away from her. “Why not?”

  “You know!”

  “I don’t.”

  “You should. You loved being a midwife, but that was taken away from you. You loved your family, and that was taken away from you, too.”

  She sat on a chair at the end of one row and drew him down next to her. Behind him, his siblings and Robert formed a protective half circle. “So you believe if we admit how much we love something, it’ll be taken away from us.”

  “Yeah. That’s the way life is.”

  Wishing she could reach inside him and tear out the cancerous cynicism, she said, “No, it’s not.”

  “It is!” He stamped his foot. “Everything I’ve ever loved has gone away. My dad, my mom...everything.”

  She cupped his face in her hands and waited
in silence until his eyes met hers. Not letting him look away, she whispered, “I’m sorry, Dougie, about what you’ve lost, but you’ve got Crystal and Tommy. You’ve got me. You’ve got Robert. You’ve got the Millers and others who care for you.”

  “I wish my mom could have heard me tonight.” His lips trembled.

  “I wish she could have, too.” She gave him a sudden smile. “I saw other parents were filming the concert. I’m sure one of them would be glad to share a copy so you can show it to your mother.”

  “When? We can’t see her in rehab.”

  “I don’t know when, but why don’t you ask one of your friends in the choir for a copy you can show her as soon as possible?”

  Crystal piped up, “I’ll do that, Dougie.” She went to speak to a woman who was congratulating her daughter on the successful concert.

  The woman listened to Crystal, straightened and smiled. She wrote something on a piece of paper and handed it to Crystal, who brought it to Beth Ann. It was the woman’s name and her phone number.

  “Thank you,” Beth Ann said. “Merry Christmas.”

  The woman nodded before leaving with her husband and four children.

  Turning to Dougie, Beth Ann said, “See? Your mother is going to have a chance to hear you sing and see Crystal’s beautiful work.” She gripped the boy by the elbows. “As soon as possible, we’ll make sure she sees it.”

  Robert put his hand on Dougie’s shoulder. “It’s not the Amish way to say we’re proud of someone, but there’s nothing in our Ordnung that says we can’t go to the diner for a burger and fries to celebrate the next-to-last week of Advent.”

  The kinder cheered at his words.

  “This is the best day ever,” Crystal said as she flung her arms around his waist. “Right, Dougie?”

  “It’s not bad,” her brother agreed.

  When everyone else laughed, he joined in. Beth Ann stood, glad the storm had passed again. She planned to call their social worker on Monday and find out when it would be possible for the children to visit their mother. It might be the best Christmas gift she could give them.

  If it was possible.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The following Monday, Beth Ann dried the last bowl and put it in the cupboard, closing the door. She reached for the dishrag to wipe down the top of the stove. Making chili tonight for the children had been an inspired idea. The recipe Abby had shared with her had been simple and straightforward. The results had been a success, and the kitchen smelled of onions and chili powder. Though she’d eaten her fill, the scent was tantalizing.

  “You missed it!” she heard Dougie say from the living room. “She cooked us a delicious meal.”

  “Is that so?” Robert asked as she walked in.

  She wasn’t sure if she would have recognized him if not for his voice. He wore earmuffs under his black hat, and a striped red-and-blue scarf wrapped around the neck of his sedate coat and reached halfway up his face.

  She hadn’t expected him to stop by tonight, though she had hoped to talk to him soon and get his advice. Earlier in the day, while she’d been at the community center to pick up lunch for the volunteers at the project house, she’d received a call from her aunt’s attorney. The money would soon be released, and she needed to decide where she wanted it deposited. She’d agreed to contact the lawyer tomorrow or the next day with her answer.

  But she had no idea what it would be.

  As she’d hung up, she’d noticed several people looking at her. Had she talked too loudly? Other than Robert, she hadn’t told anyone about the inheritance. She’d grabbed the box with the meals and headed to the project house. There, she hadn’t had a chance during work to tell Robert about the call, and she didn’t want to talk about it in front of the children now.

  Hooking a finger in the top of his scarf, Robert drew it down enough to ask, “How about a driving lesson?”

  “Now? It’s eight o’clock, and if the puff of air that came in with you is any sign, it’s cold outside.”

  “It’s not bad if you’re bundled up, and Gladys said she’d be glad to babysit.” He didn’t add more before a knock came at the door.

  “You asked her before you asked me?”

  “Let’s not leave the mayor out in the cold.” He opened the door and smiled when Gladys scurried in, as bundled up as he was.

  The mayor smiled. “I hope you two plan on doing something indoors. It’s far too cold for December!”

  “I was going to give Beth Ann a driving lesson,” he said. “There’s a battery-operated heater in the buggy. We should be okay.”

  Both of them as well as the children focused on Beth Ann. Though she didn’t want to brave the cold, the idea of being alone with Robert—with no children as chaperones—was at the top of her list.

  “I guess a few minutes won’t hurt,” she said, but couldn’t keep from smiling.

  Dougie made a disgusted sound; Robert grinned. He wanted to spend time alone with her, too. If he was willing to challenge the cold, she was as well.

  Getting her coat and her bonnet and two scarves and another of the mayor’s, she pulled those on before she took her gloves out of her pockets. She told the children to behave for Gladys and reminded them there were cookies for a treat.

  The cold swept her breath away as Beth Ann stepped onto the landing. Hurrying down the steps in Robert’s wake, she climbed into the buggy without greeting Clipper, who was stamping his feet to stay warm.

  “We shouldn’t keep him out long,” she said when Robert was sitting beside her. “He doesn’t have a heat box.”

  “I figured a couple of times around the green would be sufficient tonight.” He smiled in the dim light hanging above the dashboard. “There’s not a lot of traffic, so it’s a gut time for you to practice.” He handed her the reins. “Do you remember how to hold these?”

  Concentrating on arranging the reins through her fingers, which were clumsy in the thick gloves, she stiffened for a moment when he shifted closer to her and his arms encircled her. He put his hands on the reins next to hers. Surrounded by his strength, she had to fight her own yearning to lean back on his broad chest.

  “All right,” he said, his breath sifting through his scarf and hers, “give him the command to start.”

  She struggled to focus on her task when every motion of the buggy down the steep road bounced her against him. Listening to his instructions, she steered the buggy around the corner and toward the store.

  “Look at that!” she exclaimed, pointing with her elbow to a for-sale sign tacked to the general store’s porch. “Mrs. Weiskopf is serious about leaving town. I wonder what it would be like to run a store where everyone in town comes in and shops. Wouldn’t it be fun to be able to help people like that?”

  “I’d rather spend time creating something beautiful, whether it’s a bookcase or a table.”

  She gazed at the store. “I think I’d love having a place like that. Working regular hours and being able to help people instead of being called out to deliver babies. I—”

  “Beth Ann, pay attention to the road,” Robert ordered as the high beams from an approaching truck flashed in the rearview mirrors.

  She maneuvered the buggy closer to the curb, and the truck zoomed around them, going too fast for the village streets.

  As they turned to go along the other side of the green, Robert moved away from her and let her take control of the buggy. She missed the warmth of him, but she had to think about steering the buggy and keeping Clipper at a steady pace.

  “Robert, I wanted to talk to you about something important,” she said when the buggy began to slow as it went up the hill.

  “More important than driving the buggy?”

  “I can drive and talk at the same time. I think.”

  “You won’t know unless you try.”

  After outlinin
g what the attorney had told her, she asked, “What do you think I should do with the money?”

  “Your aenti wanted you to spend it on something to make you happy.”

  “I’m happy now.” She was happy being with Robert and the children in Evergreen Corners. The future was still a puzzle she hadn’t solved, but she was happy.

  “Now?” he asked, his voice dropping into a husky rasp.

  The sound sent shivers along her that had nothing to do with the cold. “Yes,” she whispered.

  He drew the reins out of her hands and steered the buggy toward the curb, bringing the horse to a halt. “I am, too, Beth Ann.”

  “Thank you for all you’re doing for me and the children.”

  “I wish it could be more.”

  “You’ve done more than I had any right to expect when I dragged you into this situation.” She leaned in to kiss his cheek.

  His hands reached out to grasp her elbows, stopping her. Embarrassment seared her, but vanished as his fingers slipped up to her shoulders as his arms enveloped her. He pulled her to him, and her lips were met by his. The warmth she had seen earlier in his eyes caressed her mouth. Giving herself to the perfection of his embrace, she curved her arms up his back.

  When he drew his mouth from hers, he whispered, “Open your eyes.”

  She ignored his words, wanting to linger in this wondrous dream of being in his arms with his mouth against hers.

  “Beth Ann, please,” he murmured.

  She looked up at him as she ran a bold fingertip along his firm jaw. Turning his head, he teased her gloved fingers with a light kiss. He murmured her name as he bent to capture her lips again.

  Clipper stamped his feet, rocking the buggy.

  Robert released her. “I think he’s ready to get back to his warm stall.” He reached for the reins, but paused and kissed her again.

  As he drove them toward the apartment, she shifted on the seat so she could lean her head on his shoulder. Once she left the buggy, reality would hit and she’d have to face the truth about how impossible it was for them to share more than these few stolen kisses. Nothing had changed. He was Amish. She wasn’t.