Amish Celebrations

by Beth Wiseman

  He pulled into the driveway where the young woman and her family lived. A section of the fence was down on one side. A modest pile of firewood was stacked in a rack by the house.

  “So, what will you do today—babysit or help her clean house or cook?” Bruce eyed a scooter leaning up against the white clapboard house, the wheel resting beside the bike with enough dead grass around it that Bruce assumed it had been that way for a while.

  “Mary is overwhelmed. I just want to help her learn the skills to run her household in a more efficient way. She’s very young to have so many children and another one on the way.”

  Bruce smiled. “You’re the woman for the job. I’ve never known anyone more organized and with such a keen ability to multitask.”

  She smiled. “Can you pick me up around three?”

  Bruce nodded but then took another look at the fence, the bike, the lack of firewood. It had been a long time since he’d done any outside chores. He had a yard man who came when his lawn required attention, and lucky for him, he hadn’t had to make any serious repairs lately. But there was a time when he enjoyed working outdoors with his hands, and with retirement looming, maybe a little physical work would be refreshing. “I don’t have much going on today. Maybe I could help out around here outside while you’re inside with Mary.”

  Joan lowered a pair of pink-rimmed sunglasses, then peered over them, grinning. “In a suit when it’s forty degrees?”

  Bruce shrugged. “It feels warmer with the sun out.”

  “Suit yourself.” She laughed. “Pardon the pun.”

  Bruce followed Joan across the yard and up the porch steps. He recognized Mary when she opened the door, carrying a small child, with another little one standing by her side, clutching her mother’s maroon dress. Peeking from behind Mary was the child who had come to see him, asking for help for her mother.

  When Joan had told him about the little girl’s mother hiding in her bathroom with the water running, Joan’s eyes had been moist from recollections about her son who had suffered from anxiety. She was surely trying to keep Mary from slipping into that same bad place. Bruce was glad he’d tagged along.

  Mary tried not to let shame and embarrassment wrap around her as she smiled at Joan and Santa Claus. Mary couldn’t remember his real name.

  “Joan, it was very kind of you to come out to see me today, especially after our last phone call.” Mary ducked her chin for a few seconds before she met Joan’s eyes again. “But my husband shouldn’t have come to see you. I’m embarrassed about it.”

  Joan chuckled, then winked at Mary. “Men. They have no idea how to act sometimes, do they?” She reached out her arms for Leah, who had stopped crying. The baby went right to her. “The truth is, I’ve been looking forward to our visit and spending time with these little ones.” Glancing over her shoulder, she said, “Do you remember Bruce Hanson? He gave me a ride because my car isn’t running at the moment.”

  “Ya, of course.” Mary forced another smile.

  Joan nuzzled noses with Leah, then leaned down and cupped Katie’s cheek.

  Mr. Hanson cleared his throat. “Uh, if it’s okay, I thought I’d stay awhile.” He pointed to the section of the fence that was down. “I’m pretty handy with a box of tools.” At least, I used to be. “I’m sure your husband works long hours. Maybe I can get a few things done around here since I find myself caught up at work.”

  “Nee, nee.” Mary shook her head. “Your kindness and generosity are too much. I can’t accept.”

  “Nonsense.” Joan glanced at Mr. Hanson. “A little outdoor work will do him good, keep his middle from going soft.”

  Mr. Hanson scowled, but only for a moment before he smiled. “Ha, ha.”

  Mary grinned at their playful banter. There was a time when she and Gabriel teased each other.

  “I’ve got a heavy coat in my trunk in case my car ever breaks down. I’ll just slip out of this jacket and put it on. Does your husband have tools in the barn?”

  Mary’s jaw fell open. Her own in-laws had never offered to help them, and now two strangers were gleefully getting to work. What would Gabriel say when he got home and saw that two strangers had transformed their home into a place of order and peace?

  Gabriel worked through lunch, then left a bit early and headed to his parents’ house. Things needed to be said. His wife was falling to pieces, and Gabriel had never in his life felt more like a failure. He wondered how things were going at his house, if Mary’s new Englisch friend was there like she’d promised, helping Mary to better manage the household. But something was niggling at Gabriel, tearing at him from the inside out. His father was on the front porch reading the newspaper when he pulled up in his buggy.

  “Wie bischt. What brings you here in the middle of the afternoon?” His father closed the newspaper and crossed one leg over the other, setting a pair of gold-rimmed reading glasses atop the newspaper.

  Gabriel pulled his coat snug and closed the distance between them, surprised his father was sitting outside. He was a man who barely tolerated cold weather. “I took off early today, and I wanted to talk to Mamm.”

  “Your mother is resting. Can I help you with something?”

  Gabriel took off his hat and scratched his forehead. He wasn’t sure he’d ever had a real heart-to-heart talk with his father. The few instances he’d felt compelled to unload emotionally, he’d sought out his mother. Gabriel didn’t have the kind of relationship with his daed that made him comfortable seeking guidance. Isaac King was a strong man that made raising a family look easy, and he seemed to have done a good job.

  Gabriel sat down in one of the two rocking chairs on the porch. The sun was just starting to set, and sunshine slipped right below the porch rafters, providing rays of warmth. He took a deep breath as he considered what he wanted to say. “I’m worried about Mary.”

  His father ran his hand the length of his dark beard. “Is she ill?”

  Gabriel shook his head. “Nee, I don’t think so. She’s with child again, though.”

  “I see.” The man’s forehead creased as he continued to stroke his beard. Gabriel waited for his father to tell him that a baby was a blessing, a gift from God, but his eyes stayed in the distance as a cow made itself known in a far-off pasture.

  “Mary has trouble running our household and taking care of the kinner.” He glanced at his father, who was still lost in a faraway gaze. Gabriel lifted an invisible leg and prepared to step over a line he’d never crossed before. “I don’t understand why Mamm hardly ever visits or wants to babysit. She’s never showed Mary how to properly run a household.”

  His father’s expression remained flat, his eyes far away. Gabriel worried he’d overstepped. When his father didn’t respond, he went on, figuring he’d gone this far.

  “Mamm always babysat for mei sisters, especially Sarah’s kinner. She kept them a lot. I know our children can be unruly and a handful, but . . .” Gabriel shrugged. “I don’t know what to do anymore. Right now there is an Englisch woman with Mary. A woman she’s taken a liking to who seems to help her organize her time. I don’t like the idea, but I want mei fraa to have some help if she needs it.”

  “We all need a little help sometimes.”

  Gabriel stared at his father, surprised at his calm admission.

  “I don’t even know if the elf lady is Christian.”

  His father turned to Gabriel, frowning. “Elf lady?”

  Gabriel shook his head. “Well, she was an elf when Rachel first met her.” Once again, Gabriel couldn’t remember the woman’s name.

  “How did Rachel meet this elf?” Daed raised an eyebrow.

  Gabriel took off his hat, scratched his head, and slipped the hat back on. “You know how the Englisch take their kinner to see Santa Claus at the store?”

  His father nodded. “Ya, ya.”

  “Well, Rachel Marie got away from Mary, and she stood in line to see Santa Claus. She’d heard that he grants wishes.” Gabriel slunk into the rocki
ng chair, and he saw that there were no Christmas decorations on the porch. Modest decorations were tradition, and his mother usually had greenery on the porch railing and a festive wreath on the door.

  “Only the Lord grants wishes through prayer and faith.” Daed shook his head. “But it’s hard to shelter this generation of children from the outside world.”

  “Rachel Marie asked Santa Claus—the man who was pretending to be him—for help for her mother.” He lowered his eyes, not wanting to see the disappointment that was surely to be found in his father’s gaze. “The man sent us a check for three thousand dollars.” He glanced up, but his father’s eyes had returned to the pasture. “We sent it back, but that wasn’t the kind of help Rachel meant. She wanted to know if someone could come help her mother tend to her family, I guess.”

  His father scowled. “How bad are things at your house, that a child would do such a thing?”

  “Bad enough that a five-year-old can tell her mother can’t cope with her responsibilities.” Gabriel shamefully hung his head.

  “And what do you do to help Mary?”

  Gabriel’s eyes shot to his father’s. “Sometimes I have to help her bathe the kinner or clean up the kitchen.” He shrugged. “Or other things that are her job. I just want her to be happy.”

  His father chuckled. “There’s such an age gap between you and your sisters that I doubt you remember the routine when your sisters reached an age that could have done your mother in. Sohn, there is no his job or her job, no matter what you hear. Marriage and child-rearing are a partnership. Ya, traditionally, the women have certain things expected of them and the same for the men. But at the end of the day, it’s all about what works for each family.”

  Gabriel’s jaw dropped as he wished he’d reached out to his father sooner. “But everyone else makes it look so easy.”

  Daed laughed again. “No one knows what goes on behind another family’s closed door. I assure you that raising a family isn’t easy, but the rewards are many.” His father grinned. “I used to sweep floors in the evenings after you kids went to bed.”

  Gabriel stared at his father. “I don’t remember you ever doing that.”

  “Ya, well . . . I did. I went through a spell when I couldn’t sleep, so I’d sweep all the floors to try to wear myself out. And ninety percent of the time, I got up with any child who woke up in the middle of the night.”

  Gabriel lowered his gaze, then looked back up at his father.

  “Why can’t Mamm help Mary, though, the way she did Sarah, Marie, and Lizzy? Mary didn’t have siblings, so she doesn’t understand, and she refuses to spank the children for anything.”

  Gabriel had grown up fearing the pine tree by the fence, the one his father always chose a switch from.

  “Times are different, I reckon.” His father tipped back his straw hat, scratching his forehead, then he locked eyes with Gabriel. “Your mother is sick, Gabe. She has a form of dementia that causes her to lose time, sometimes hours, and she’s afraid to be around you or your family much because of this. She isn’t herself when it happens. It’s been going on for years, but she didn’t want you to know about it.” His father looked away. “I should have told you sooner.”

  “Do the girls know?”

  His father nodded. “Ya. We travel there often for special treatments your mother receives in Philadelphia. She sees a specialist, a type of therapist that works with her, and sometimes it helps. Your mamm is a gut woman but a stubborn one. She doesn’t want folks around here to know, so she refuses to take money from our community health care fund, and she wants to go far enough away from our district so that she isn’t found out.”

  Despite the knot forming in Gabriel’s throat, recollections washed over him like rainwater pooling in a forgotten place in his mind. How many times did his mother miss church? What about all the times she’d missed Sister’s Day, the monthly gathering of women in their district? And there were plenty of times people had stopped Gabriel to say they hadn’t seen his mother in a while. It isn’t just us she avoids.

  “Your mamm knows that Mary struggles. It’s just part of raising a big family. Your mother didn’t want to add burdens for either of you. I told her she was making a mistake and that you and Mary would think she was avoiding you and the kinner for other reasons.” Daed’s eyes clouded in a way that Gabriel hadn’t seen before. “Sometimes, she doesn’t even know me.” After a few moments, Gabriel thought he saw his father’s lip quiver. “I’m sorry I haven’t been to visit more often, but it fears me to leave your mamm alone for long.”

  Gabriel’s chest tightened as fear gripped him the same way it had when Rachel had been diagnosed. “Will she get better?”

  His father blinked his eyes a couple of times and shook his head. “Nee. The treatments help a little. But Gabe, she won’t be cured of this. And when the disease takes hold of her for good, she will go down fast.”

  Gabriel tried to swallow back the lump that had been building in his throat, but his eyes filled with tears just the same.

  CHAPTER 10

  With his legs spread wide and his hands on his hips, Bruce’s stance made him feel like a lumberjack or other strong and capable man. It had been a long time since he’d performed any real physical labor, and getting the fence repaired and grounded had left him sweating and winded. The temperature had risen to a cool forty-five, but without a cloud in the sky, the sun shone brightly, deceiving him about how cold it actually was.

  He looked toward the house just as Joan stepped onto the porch. For a split second, this was Bruce’s house, and Joan was his wife, calling him in for lunch. His chest tightened as guilt squashed the thought like it was a bug trying to burrow inside of him. He’d loved Joan for decades, but not the way that provoked this kind of thought pattern, and it confused him.

  “We’ve laid out some cookies if you need a break.” Joan smiled. Her silver locks bobbed atop her shoulders as she waved.

  Bruce had the vision again, and by the time he reached Joan on the porch, his face burned with embarrassment. What would she think if she knew he was having such daydreams of them playing house together?

  “All that hard work has left you red-faced and tuckered out, I see.” Joan shivered, then rubbed her hands over her arms, which were covered by a black sweater.

  “I’ve got to keep my tummy from getting soft.” He smiled as he marched up the steps.

  Joan laughed. “I reckon you do.” She winked at him, which sent Bruce off balance, causing him to trip, then grab the handrail before he fell.

  “Careful, fellow. You’re not used to doing manual labor.”

  He followed her inside as the aroma of freshly baked cookies welcomed him. The two babies were in high chairs, and Rachel Marie sat in a chair at the table. Bruce slipped into a seat beside her. Mary and Joan were chatting quietly in the corner of the kitchen. It looked like Joan was writing down a recipe on a pad of paper and explaining it to Mary. Joan had already told him that the couple had twin boys, but that they’d be in school most of the day.

  “We don’t believe in Santa Claus.” Rachel Marie spoke to Bruce in a whisper as he reached for a chocolate chip cookie. “But danki for helping us.”

  Bruce smiled. “Happy to help out.”

  The little girl stared at him. “We believe in God. He makes miracles happen.”

  I used to think so. Bruce nodded, letting his eyes drift to Mary and Joan. Their newly found friendship made him smile. It was nice to hear laughter. He glanced at the two babies—one with an upturned bottle, the other eating a cookie—then he looked back at the little girl. Rachel was staring at him. He raised an eyebrow, anticipating a question from her.

  “Do you pray when you wear your Santa suit?” The child scratched her cheek with one hand as she dangled a cookie in the other.

  Bruce’s faith might have slipped, but he hadn’t taken to lying to children, so he wasn’t sure how to answer—that he wasn’t praying much these days.

  “I, uh, bel
ieve that the tradition of Santa Claus carries a bit of magic, I guess. When I wear it, sometimes I can make nice things happen.” He recalled the checks he’d had issued to lots of children whose families had seemed to need help. Then he recalled Joan saying how you can’t just throw money at a problem. He glanced at the two women chatting and laughing, at the babies, at Rachel, then thought about the good day’s work he’d put in. He was tired physically but didn’t remember feeling so emotionally gratified at the end of a day. He hadn’t answered the child’s question, but maybe she’d let it go.

  Rachel shrugged. “Just think of the magic you could have if you prayed while wearing the Santa suit.” Then she pushed away from the table and left the room without another word, and Bruce heard the front door close.

  Two young boys came into the house, followed by the man who had visited him looking for Joan.

  Mary held her breath as Gabriel walked into the kitchen behind Samuel and John. The twins said hello to Bruce and Joan, put their lunch pails on the counter, then left the kitchen, each taking a cookie with them.

  “I told them to clean the henhouse,” Gabriel said before he extended his hand to Bruce. “Nice to see you again.” He nodded to Joan.

  Mary was still waiting for some type of wrath from her husband, even though he’d set up this visit.

  “Wonderful about the boys,” Joan said. “Mary and I were just talking about a firm list of chores she could assign to them. If they like the outdoors, let’s factor that in.”

  “Mary, can I talk to you for a minute?” Gabriel’s tired eyes locked with hers before he looked at Joan. “Danki for your time today, for this visit. Would you mind keeping an eye on the babies while I speak with Mary privately? We won’t be long.”

  And here comes the wrath. Mary tucked her chin and followed Gabriel to their bedroom. He closed the door behind them, then threw his arms around her. “I love you,” he whispered. “And things are going to be different. I’m going to help out more, and . . .” His voice trembled as his sentence trailed.