Christmas at Promise Lodge

by Charlotte Hubbard

  “Here’s the head!” Minerva announced as she leaned in closer. “Give me another big push—that’s the way—”

  Hovering beside Minerva, Frances was watching anxiously. “Oh, here it comes! Don’t stop, Mary Kate—you’re almost there!”

  Rivulets of sweat had dampened Mary Kate’s flushed face and her breathing sounded shallow and desperate. She screwed up her face, and with great determination she pushed again.

  “It’s a boy!” Frances crowed.

  “He looks fine and dandy, and now we’re going to open up his lungs,” Minerva said from the other side of the tented blankets.

  Roman heard a wet smacking sound. When a shrill wail filled the room, his heart thudded in his chest. “You did it, Mary Kate,” he whispered against her temple. “You have a son!”

  “We’ll tend to the finishing details and clean him up for you, sweetheart,” Minerva said as she worked efficiently behind the other side of the blankets. “Gut work! Rest for a minute and think about what to name this fine fellow.”

  Mary Kate managed a smile as she sank into Roman’s embrace. “Denki so much,” she murmured as she gazed up at him. “Dat was frantic and Gloria ran off, but you stuck by me.”

  “It—it was an honor,” Roman replied in a breathy voice. After Frances helped Minerva give the howling baby a quick bath, Mary Kate’s mamm approached the bed with the blanketed newborn cradled in her arms.

  Roman saw a puckery red face and tiny hands flailing above the blanket as the baby continued to fill the room with his cries. When Frances stopped beside him and he got a look at the little boy’s fuzzy dark hair and bow-shaped lips, Roman fell head-over-heels for the helpless little fellow who’d just undergone the tremendous effort of being born. “Ohhhh,” he murmured, daring to stroke the boy’s pudgy cheek. “Wow. Aren’t you something? Just plain amazing.”

  Mary Kate sat up straighter, gazing at the baby as her mother handed him over. “So here you are,” she whispered in awe. “Maybe you were worth all this trouble after all.”

  When Mary Kate smiled at her newborn son, Roman suddenly knew he was meant to be the man of this little family. Was it his imagination, or had a glow settled over the three of them? Roman could hardly breathe, knowing full well that under normal circumstances he wouldn’t have been present for this miracle—let alone encouraged to sit behind Mary Kate while she was giving birth. He felt immensely grateful that Frances and Minerva had ignored the traditional boundaries their faith placed between unmarried men and women . . .

  “We’re so blessed that everything went well, and that the baby’s perfect,” Frances murmured as she gazed at Mary Kate and her son. “And we’re blessed that you were willing to lend us your strength and compassion, Roman. I—I don’t know how I’d have gotten through these past few weeks without you helping us in so many ways.”

  Roman blinked. “Whatever you folks need, let me know,” he murmured. “It’s no trouble at all.”

  Minerva joined them at the bedside, her bag in hand. “I’ll be back later today to check on you all,” she said. She smiled at Roman. “Maybe you could walk me out, Roman? I suspect our boy’s hungry.”

  The thought of Mary Kate nursing her newborn made Roman’s face flush, but he nodded. “See you later,” he whispered to Mary Kate. He longed to kiss her cheek, but thought better of it with the two women looking on. “Can’t wait to hear what you name him.”

  When they reached the bottom of the stairs, Roman saw Mary Kate’s dat standing at a window, gazing out. “Congratulations, Floyd!” he said as he approached the bishop. “You have a fine new grandson, and your daughter’s doing well.”

  When Floyd turned around, his words came out in an unintelligible rush. Because half of the bishop’s face was sagging, Roman couldn’t tell if he was pleased about the baby or not. Floyd’s expressions gave little clue about what was going through his mind.

  “I’m going outside now to do your horse chores,” Roman said slowly and distinctly. “Would you like to come with me?”

  The bishop waved him off with his good arm and turned to stare out the window again. Roman and Minerva were silent as they put on their heavy coats, until they stepped outside.

  “I don’t know what to think,” the midwife murmured with a shake of her head. “Floyd seems steadier on his feet now, but I can’t tell that his speech is progressing any. If he’s not able to talk clearly soon, I suspect he’ll dismiss his speech therapist.”

  “It’s very sad,” Roman murmured. “Frances has a load on her shoulders.”

  Minerva’s face glowed within the confines of her black bonnet as she gazed upward into the snowfall. “I wish this snow could brighten the Lehmans’ household the way it refreshes the landscape,” she said wistfully. Then she gazed speculatively at Roman. “Are you thinking of marrying Mary Kate? Not that it’s any of my business.”

  Roman smiled with more confidence than he felt. “When I saw the baby for the first time—and the way Mary Kate held him in her arms—I was totally sucked in,” he whispered. “Had you and Frances not been there, I might have proposed right then and there.”

  Minerva’s happy laughter rang out as the snow began falling more heavily. They stopped at the spot where she would head for the lodge and Roman would turn toward the Lehmans’ barn. “I think you’ll make a wonderful husband for her, Roman—and you’ll be a blessing to that entire family. But it’s not a decision to be made lightly, considering Floyd’s condition and Gloria’s, um, crush on you.”

  Roman nodded. “I think Gloria and I have reached an understanding now,” he said, glancing toward the Lehmans’ big home. Was it his imagination, or had a curtain fluttered when Gloria stopped looking out the window at him? “But, jah, the whole family can use our prayers and our help.”

  Minerva nodded. “I’d best get back to my scholars. I’m sure Rosetta and Christine have them reciting their addition and subtraction tables and working on their spelling lessons for the week, but the Peterscheim boys and Lowell can get distracted in the blink of an eye.”

  “Especially with Christmas coming,” Roman said with a chuckle.

  “So true! We’re going out this afternoon to cut evergreen branches,” Minerva said. “Your mamm has volunteered to show the kids how to make fresh wreaths, and Rosetta has offered us a lesson in making sugar cookies. We’ll bake and decorate them for the meal after church on Sunday.”

  “If any cookies are still around by then,” Roman teased. “Have a gut rest of your day, Minerva.”

  “You too, Roman. God be with you as you make your important decision about hitching up with Mary Kate and her baby.”

  As Roman strode toward the Lehmans’ barn, he hummed a Christmas carol. He was guessing at least three inches of snow had fallen since Gloria had summoned him to help with Mary Kate, and the dull gray sky suggested that the snow wouldn’t stop anytime soon.

  He slid the barn door open, smiling as the horses all turned to look at him. “‘What child is this, who laid to rest, on Mary Kate’s lap is sleeping,’” he sang softly. It seemed his heart was filled with Christmas cheer earlier than usual, and every fiber of his being was telling him he belonged with Mary Kate and her newborn son, to care for them and provide them a home as Joseph did so long ago for the Virgin Mary. It was indeed an important decision, yet Roman sensed he’d already made it.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Rosetta sighed happily on Thursday afternoon as she and the children stood looking at the long countertop covered with decorated sugar cookies. “What a pretty picture! And what a gift these cookies will be to everyone after church,” she added.

  “We’re grateful to Rosetta for our lessons in fractions and kitchen math as we measured and baked,” Minerva remarked as she stood with them. “As our treat, we’ll each choose one cookie to eat now—and then we’ll clean up the kitchen. Let’s start with the youngest, and we’ll take our cookies to the dining room. Mattie’s made us all some cocoa and she’ll pour you a cup when you tak
e your seat.”

  Johnny Peterscheim chose a snowman with candy eyes and buttons, and his brother Menno snatched up a star that was thick with yellow frosting and multicolored jimmies. Twelve-year-old Lowell could easily have devoured five or six cookies, but he limited himself to a large holly leaf frosted in green with cinnamon imperials for berries. Lily, Lavern, and Fannie chose a wreath, a chocolate-frosted camel, and an angel that sparkled with big white sugar crystals.

  “This was a gut lesson and fun for all of us,” Rosetta remarked as she chose a yellow bell. “Lily and Fannie kept their brothers focused on figuring the fractions for the flour and sugar, too.”

  “They’ll make fine teachers someday,” Minerva agreed, lifting a frosted poinsettia from the countertop. “It helped that they reminded the boys we’d all be eating their mistakes if the cookies didn’t turn out right.”

  Rosetta chuckled as she joined the kids at a table in the dining room. By all appearances, the cookies had turned out delicious: the younger boys had frosting smeared on their mouths, and all the scholars were smiling. Mattie poured three mugs of cocoa for the adults and went to the kitchen to choose her cookie. “I see an angel with my name on it,” she teased.

  “Teacher Minerva, I think we should take some cookies to Preacher Amos—especially if he’s not able to sit through church,” Fannie suggested.

  “Let’s take some to Bishop Floyd and Mary Kate, too!” Lily said exuberantly. “We have baby booties and blankets to take over anyway, so cookies would be something everyone in their family could enjoy.”

  “That’s a very thoughtful idea,” Minerva remarked. “And maybe we could sing them a few Christmas carols when we deliver them.”

  “And we could do it during schooltime, jah?” Menno asked hopefully.

  “Our teacher in Coldstream would’ve never let us make cookies and called it a lesson,” Lavern put in. “We were too busy memorizing looong Christmas poems and Bible stories for the pageant to have any fun like this.”

  “Jah, but we didn’t have a kitchen in the schoolhouse, either,” Lily pointed out.

  Minerva chuckled. “Now that you mention it, Lavern, it’s time to begin working on our Christmas Eve program. I’m thinking we could do a simple version of the Christmas story, with shepherds and Wise Men—”

  “What if Mary Kate played Mary, with her little David as baby Jesus?” Fannie asked, her eyes wide with excitement. “The Christ child was born in the city of David, after all.”

  Mattie chuckled along with Rosetta and Minerva. “I don’t think we should plan for that until you ask Mary Kate if she’s willing to participate,” she said. “David will only be a few weeks old—”

  “But if Roman plays Joseph, he’ll be with them!” Menno insisted. “And we’ll be indoors where it’s warm—”

  “And we promise not to sneeze in the baby’s face or feed him too many cookies!” Johnny put in.

  Rosetta was amazed at how quickly the notion of including Mary Kate, Roman, and the baby had captured the children’s imaginations. “If the three older boys play the Wise Men, that leaves you as the only shepherd, Johnny,” she speculated aloud. “And what parts will you play, Lily and Fannie?”

  “I’m an angel, of course,” Lily replied demurely.

  “Hmm . . . I could be the star,” Fannie murmured, “or I could dress up like a shepherd with Johnny.”

  “Jah! Those guys all wore dresses back then, anyway!” Menno blurted.

  “And we could have Queenie help us,” Johnny said, so excited that he stood up to bounce on his toes. “She’s a sheepdog, ain’t so? And if the girls sewed up some stuffed sheep and a donkey—”

  “Fannie can be the donkey! She’s a natural,” Lowell said with a hoot.

  Fannie swatted at her younger brother while the boys began to bray like donkeys, filling the dining room with their ruckus.

  Minerva held up her hand for silence. “I understand why you’d like to see David in your Christmas Eve program, but I’m going to insist that you not even ask Mary Kate about participating. She and the baby need time to get strong—and David’s way too young to be exposed to such a crowd yet. Do you understand?”

  When the boys appeared ready to protest, Mattie spoke up. “I believe we should go along with what Teacher Minerva says, because she’s a midwife—and because we want little David and Mary Kate to stay healthy, ain’t so?”

  Fannie nodded. “It would be easier to use a doll for baby Jesus anyway,” she said. “A doll wouldn’t start crying or fussing during the program—”

  “And a doll wouldn’t poop its pants, either!” Menno put in.

  “Excellent points,” Minerva said as the boys all started laughing and holding their noses. “We’ve eaten our treats, so it’s time to clean up the kitchen. We’ll start by gathering our mugs and napkins. Lowell, you and Lavern can wash the cookie cutters, bowls, and utensils,” she instructed, pointing toward the sink, “and the girls can put the leftover frosting in containers. Johnny and Menno, you’re just the right height to wipe down the tables. Many hands make light work!”

  Rosetta stood back to watch the children carry out their assigned tasks. She smiled at Mattie. “I’m glad the girls suggested visiting our shut-ins,” she murmured. “Now that Fannie and Lily have joined our crochet club, we’ve got several booties and little blankets finished for the baby. If we join the granny squares we’ve crocheted, we could take an afghan to Amos, ain’t so? It’ll be a gut chance to look in on him, all of us together.”

  Mattie considered this idea. “I suppose so,” she murmured. “And we could make a big wreath for the Lehmans. I suspect Frances and Gloria will be too busy tending Floyd and the baby and Mary Kate to do much decorating for Christmas.”

  Rosetta slipped her arm around Mattie’s shoulders as they headed toward the kitchen with the empty cocoa pot and ladle. She suspected her sister was more curious about Amos’s well-being than she was letting on—and an outing with the kids would give them all a chance to be neighborly without Amos thinking they were being nosy, too. Truman had taken Amos into Forest Grove for an appointment a couple days ago, but he was being very tight-lipped about the preacher’s progress. It would be a blessing, indeed, if Amos could resume his preaching duties—he could certainly deliver a sermon from his wheelchair, after all—now that Eli Peterscheim and Marlin Kurtz were the only able-bodied church leaders they had.

  It’s in Your hands, Lord, Rosetta prayed as she watched the children cleaning the kitchen. You’ve given us these fine kids and a new baby and interesting ideas for the scholars’ first Christmas Eve program at Promise Lodge. I know it’ll be the most wonderful Christmas ever!

  * * *

  Amos raised his eyebrows as Roman began removing their supper dishes from the kitchen table. “What’s going on that you think I should change my shirt?” he asked. “It’s Friday night and we’ve made no plans—”

  “Just saying,” Roman replied in a suspiciously cheerful tone. “Ruby hinted at a surprise this morning when she brought over those wonderful-gut sweet rolls for our breakfast, remember? Christmas is the season of mystery, after all.”

  “Oh, jah?” Amos asked, secretly enticed by whatever might be about to happen. “Now tell me true. Has your mamm been cooking something up?”

  Roman widened his eyes and looked directly at Amos. “That’s not the way I heard it. But that’s not to say she won’t be involved,” he said. “The Peterscheim boys mentioned cookies and caroling to me, they were all excited about the event. You don’t want to be wearing that baggy old soup-splattered sweatshirt if company’s coming.”

  “Ah. In that case I suppose I’d better be more presentable.”

  Amos turned his wheelchair and headed back to his bedroom, almost giddy with the prospect of having kids stopping by . . . and maybe Mattie. Thank God he was feeling much better these days: his headache had disappeared, and the antidepressant had improved his mood, as well. He hadn’t told anyone except Truman, but a couple days a
go Dr. Townsend had pronounced his concussion nearly healed. The physical therapist had referred him to a massage therapist after a closer look at his X-rays . . . something about his leg nerves getting pinched when he’d fallen from the roof.

  Amos didn’t know why therapists would have better ideas about treating his condition than a full-fledged doctor would, but he wasn’t asking any questions. His first massage had made some of his muscles ache, but wasn’t that an improvement over total numbness in his legs? He was doing his exercises—a few more repetitions than the physical therapist had suggested—and he was feeling a lot more motivated, more hopeful about making a recovery. And didn’t hope and belief account for a lot of healing? Hadn’t the people Jesus had healed regained their strength because they had believed He could make them well again?

  Amos took a clean flannel shirt from the drawer and changed out of his old sweatshirt. Good thing Roman trimmed your hair and beard yesterday, so you don’t look like a caveman, Amos thought as he also put on a clean pair of TriBlend trousers. He was tickled that he could pull them up and fasten them by himself now—he could stand for nearly a minute without any support and without falling back into his wheelchair.

  But Roman didn’t know these things, and Amos didn’t figure on sharing a lot of details just yet. He hadn’t told a soul about those nighttime visits from his dat and Anna and Allen, either.

  In the light of day and rational thought, Amos wasn’t entirely sure he’d heard their voices, but their presence had felt very real to him. If Mary and Joseph had received messages from God in dreams and from angels, Amos believed the Lord might have sent those three members of his family to deliver the most important warning of his life. Only a fool ignored God’s messages. And Amos was finished with being a fool.

  When he’d wheeled himself out to the front room, Amos lit the two battery lamps on his tables. It was December fourth—still three weeks from Christmas, yet Amos yearned for the season’s peace and joy. He felt ready to receive whatever gifts the Holy Spirit delivered. A sense of expectation filled his soul. Centuries ago the world had awaited a Savior’s birth, and this year Amos prayed for his own delivery from the bondage of illness and physical limitations.