Unlikely Sweethearts (An Amish Christmas Story)

by J. E. B. Spredemann

  He simply nodded. Because if he said what was on his mind, he’d likely ruin this visit. If he said what was on his mind, they’d be heading out the driveway as quickly as they’d driven in. If he said what was on his mind, this amazing woman at his side would probably dump him like yesterday’s garbage.

  His grandfather closed the door behind them, then turned to Holly. “And you are?”

  “I’m Holly.” She smiled and held out a friendly hand in greeting.

  “Christopher.” He took her hand, his gaze flicking to Randy.

  “Nice to meet you, Christopher,” she added.

  His grandmother walked into the entryway, surprise brightening her face.

  “It’s our youngest gross sohn.” His grandfather smiled tentatively at Randy’s grandmother.

  “I see that.” She didn’t hesitate to move close, examine Randy, then engulf him in a hug. “It’s so gut to see you. You look just like your father did when he was a youngie.”

  “Doesn’t he?” His grandfather said, placing a hand on Randy’s upper arm.

  Randy resisted the urge to shake it off. Although he’d had limited contact with them the last two Christmases, these people were virtually strangers to him. He felt no emotional ties to them whatsoever. And that had suited him well thus far.

  Jaycee bounded into the room. “Mammi has cookies!”

  “Jah, kumm. Have some cookies,” his grandmother urged, leading the way to the kitchen.

  Arching a brow, Holly glanced at Randy. She nodded toward the kitchen.

  He grunted inwardly, but followed his grandmother as Holly suggested. He stared down at the plastic bag dangling from his arm. Holly noticed and nudged him.

  Did she have any idea what she was asking of him? How could she expect him to offer a gift to people he’d been angry with the majority of his life? He looked at her and shook his head. His lips seemed to seal shut. He couldn’t force the words out of his mouth.

  “Randy stopped by the Millers’ store and bought some pot pies for you,” Holly said, prompting him with an encouraging smile.

  She had said the necessary words, but it seemed she was determined to make him offer the gifts he held in his hand. Instead, he set the bag on the table.

  His grandmother peeked inside. “Oh, those look wunderbaar! Ain’t so, Christopher?” She pulled them out of the bag.

  “From Millers’, you say?” His grandfather directed the question at Randy.

  He gave a nod, his mouth refusing to operate.

  “Kayla Miller makes the best pot pies.” His grandmother beamed. “This is a special treat. Denki. Thank you.”

  “It was his pleasure,” Holly insisted.

  His mouth agape, he stared at Holly. Had she just told a bold-faced lie? She knew good and well he was dreading every minute of this. As a matter of fact, if it weren’t for Holly, he wouldn’t even be here.

  “Santa, can Bright and me go see the puppies? Please, please, please?” Jaycee’s plea broke through the awkwardness.

  His grandfather chuckled. “That’s fine by me. Chust have a care around the horses.”

  “We will. C’mon, Bright!” Jaycee charged toward the door.

  “Put your coat and gloves on,” Randy called. “Your sister will have my hide if I let you go out in the cold without them.”

  “Shannon is quite protective of her siblings,” his grandmother said. “Well, now, should we dish out some of this delightful treat?”

  “I’d love some.” Holly smiled. “Randy?”

  “Yeah. Sure.” He swallowed.

  This all felt so strange, like he was in a dream. He lifted his head and let his eyes wander the surroundings. It seemed quite dark in the dining area, likely due to the abundance of dark wood and absence of electric lights. A lone lantern flickered in the middle of the table, and natural light filtered in through the blue-curtain clad windows.

  It occurred to him that this was his first time inside an Amish home—a place he should have…would have visited many times in his twenty-one years, if his family had been welcomed.

  “Why the welcome now?” He blurted aloud.

  All eyes turned to him and warmth rose up his neck.

  “What was that, sohn?” His grandfather’s bushy eyebrow hitched upward.

  “Why are you welcoming us into your home now, when you rejected our family and sent us away all those years ago?” His fist clenched tight.

  He knew Holly’s gaze bored into him. He hadn’t looked at her, but he could somehow feel it.

  He pinned a stare on his grandfather and grandmother, requesting—no demanding—truth.

  “Your vatter was in the bann.” His grandmother’s words were whispered.

  He lifted a hand of empty air. “That means absolutely nothing to me.”

  “Randy…” Holly’s voice quietly urged him to be civil.

  “I don’t understand how you so readily took in Shannon and the kids, but you showed nothing but disdain for your own son and his family,” he challenged.

  “You don’t understand our ways,” his grandfather said.

  “Your ways suck.”

  Holly gasped. “Randy.”

  “It comes from the Bible.” Had his grandfather really just said that?

  “No.” Randy shook his head. “Don’t tell me that’s what Jesus would do, because it isn’t. He said. “Let the little children come to me, and hinder them not.” So, tell me, was he just talking about strangers’ children, or all children—even your own grandchildren?”

  “We were wrong about that part,” his grandfather admitted. “But that is not where the bann comes from. When someone turns away from the faith, we are supposed to shun them and pray for them until they come back to the fold.”

  “I don’t claim to know a ton about that Bible, but if you’re referring to the passage in Corinthians about the man taking his father’s wife, this is hardly the same thing.”

  “We refer to the end of the chapter where it is written not to have fellowship with a brother who has gone the wrong way and refuses to repent. When your father took the kneeling vow in baptism, he agreed to abide by and uphold the rules of the Amish church. This vow, like the marriage vow, was only to be broken by death. Nobody forced your father to take the vow in his youth. It was his own decision.”

  “See, that’s another thing I don’t get. You say that it was his own decision, but was it really? He said he wouldn’t have been allowed to date unless he joined the church. That sounds an awful lot like manipulation to me.”

  “How can a man lead a wife and family if he himself is not committed to Gott? A commitment to Der Herr and the church must come first or else the house will fall, sohn. Do you not believe this?”

  Randy’s jaw slacked, and his gaze moved to Holly. Hadn’t he just had a similar discussion with Holly’s father? “Yeah. I guess I agree with that part.”

  “Randy.” His grandfather stopped talking until Randy’s eyes met his. “Your grossmammi and I were wrong to turn your family away that day. We have regretted it many times over the years. We want to ask for your forgiveness. We cannot do anything about the past, but we can have a relationship that begins now. And we would very much like to have that with you, as we do with your brother.”

  Randy’s lips tightened and pressed together.

  His grandmother joined his grandfather and he took her hand in his. They both stood before Randy. “Will you forgive us?”

  He suddenly felt a warm delicate hand on his shoulder, and glanced up to see Holly. When had she vacated her seat at the table and gone to stand behind him?

  Randy closed his eyes and swallowed. Moments ticked by in silence as he wrestled with his thoughts and emotions. How could he just forgive and forget the past? The years of feeling rejected. The years of feeling unwanted. The years of feeling unworthy of their love.

  “We know now that Gott would have us reconcile, even if it is not in the way we’d hoped or imagined. We see that He is giving us a second chance before
our time on this earth is over. But you have to be willing as well. We will not make you. Nee, forgiveness is not something that can be forced. It must come from the heart.”

  His grandfather’s words pierced through his soul, like an arrow severing his skin and sinking deep into his heart. Randy’s head dropped into his hands and he cursed the moisture gathering on his lashes. His heart clenched tightly and a sob escaped his lips unbidden. He couldn’t speak if he tried.

  And then, like a whirlwind, he was standing on his feet, ingulfed in his grandfather’s arms. His grandmother then joined them, and pulled Holly into their circle of love as well.

  “I forgive you,” he managed to say as he broke away. But he suspected that if he’d said nothing at all, his grandparents would have understood. He couldn’t honestly say that he felt it fully, but a dam inside him had broken, and healing had begun.

  Commotion at the door stole their attention.

  “Dawdi, someone just pulled up in a buggy.” Brighton sounded out of breath, like he’d run to the house.

  Holly eyed Randy and nodded. “We should probably go now.”

  His grandparents didn’t argue with her words. As if they’d rather have their church people there than them. Stop it. He condemned his accusatory thoughts.

  “I’ll get Jaycee.” Brighton rushed back out.

  “You will come back again soon then?” his grandmother asked, hopefulness in her tone.

  Randy nodded.

  “Let me pack some goodies for you.” His grandmother began moving about the kitchen.

  “Excuse me.” His grandfather’s look was apologetic. “I must see who has come.” He shoved his coat and hat on, then disappeared out the door.

  “Aww…” Jaycee’s voice sounded through the house. “Do we have to leave already?”

  “I’m afraid so, bud.” Randy grimaced at his nephew.

  “But me and Bright haven’t even gone sledding yet,” he protested.

  “Another time maybe.”

  “Aww…”

  “I know. But they have Amish company now, so we need to scoot.” He squeezed Jaycee’s shoulder. “Say goodbye, then go get into the car.”

  “Okay,” he mumbled. His chin hung to his chest as his sluggish feet plunked toward the kitchen.

  Randy chuckled to himself. The kid had more theatrics in him than The Center for the Performing Arts.

  Randy walked back toward the kitchen to see if Holly was ready to go. His grandmother handed her back the two bags they’d brought, but they looked to be filled with different items. His grandmother moved to him and took his hand in hers. Tears shimmered in her eyes. “Thank you for coming today. You don’t know how much this means to your grandfather and me.”

  He swallowed and nodded. “Thank you.” It was all he could manage.

  He glanced at Holly. Was that a look of admiration in her eyes?

  As they ambled toward the car, Holly bumped his arm and smiled. He opened the door for her, but she hesitated, staring into his eyes. He had to refrain from dipping his head and stealing a kiss.

  “What?” He couldn’t resist reaching up and letting her soft hair slide through his fingers.

  “I’m so proud of you.”

  Her words warmed him from the inside out. God, this woman is perfect for me. “Thank you for saying that.”

  She briefly squeezed his hand, then slid into the car.

  This day hadn’t gone so bad after all.

  FOURTEEN

  “Bye, Santa!” Young Jaycee threw his arms around Christopher’s middle, nearly knocking him off his feet.

  Christopher chuckled and patted the boy’s back, even though Henry, the district deacon, wore a disapproving look. But Christopher wouldn’t begrudge his honorary grandson’s affection, neither would he reject it. He had enough mistakes to live with as it was.

  “Did your grossmammi give you some cookies to take home?” He smiled down at the boy.

  “Yes, she did!” He bounced on his toes. “And I’m going to eat them all before I get home, otherwise Shan will only let me have one.”

  He chuckled again. He didn’t doubt this boy could brighten up anyone’s day. Jaycee did Christopher’s heart good.

  “You best be going now. It looks like your onkel is already getting into the car.”

  “Okay. See ya!” The boy spun around and disappeared as quickly as he’d come.

  “Ach, to have that kind of energy again,” Christopher mused aloud as he watched the vehicle exiting the driveway.

  “Back to the matter at hand,” the deacon not-so-gently reminded him.

  Christopher’s smile faded. “I only have so much time left on this earth.”

  “And you choose to spend it in disobedience to the Ordnung?” Minister Reuben interjected.

  “Nee. I intend to spend it in obedience to Christ. I cannot deny what my conscience is proclaiming inside my head and heart.”

  “And what’s that?”

  He eyed the three men, hoping Der Herr would use him to speak to their hearts. “Christ dwelt with common people, not the religious crowd. He commanded us to love one another as He loved us. This Meidung, what we’ve been doing, is not showing God’s love. Jesus showed us what that looked like. He ate with sinners. He touched the lepers. He had compassion on the weak. He loved those shunned by the religious leaders. Remember the man blind from birth?”

  The men nodded. “Jah, but that’s not—"

  He couldn’t help his voice rising. “The religious leaders kicked him out of the synagogue for following Jesus. If the same fate happens to me, then so be it.”

  “You know well enough what this g’may believed and practiced when you joined. You took vows in agreement. Will you go back on that now? Will you follow in your Englisch sohn’s footsteps?”

  “Should a man continue down a path that he knows leads to destruction?” Christopher challenged.

  The deacon’s arms crossed over his chest and his lips pursed tightly.

  Minister Graber frowned. “Are you saying our ways lead to destruction?”

  “Nee. And jah. I’ve seen the destruction that adherence to some of our ways has caused my family. My own gross sohn, whom I’d only seen once briefly during his childhood, hated me. We must consider who our actions or inactions affect. Who am I to incite hate in another human being?”

  “The hatred was his own choice.”

  “He was a kind! All he knew was what he saw—what had transpired between myself and mei sohn. And I assure you he did not see love in the ways of our people.” Christopher shook his head. “Oh, I thought it was love at the time. But I was wrong. So terribly wrong. I see that now.”

  “You are the bishop! The leader of our people. You must set an example of obedience or you know what will happen. The Englisch ways will start creeping into the g’may and before we know it, there will be no difference between us and der velt. We cannot have that.”

  “What about Judah Hostettler’s district?”

  “The bishop in Pennsylvania?” The deacon scoffed. “They’re hardly even Amish!”

  “They drive horse and buggy and dress Plain just like us.”

  “Jah, but that’s about it. The things he allows in his g’may are scandalous.”

  “You are wrong. Do you know what I, all those in his congregation, and those who know him best see? We see love. We see grace. His heart is good. He desires the will of Der Herr. Are his people perfect? Nee. But neither are we. He leads with wisdom and he is the closest man to Jesus I’ve ever known. Ask Bishop Bontrager in Rexville. He’ll tell you the same thing.”

  The deacon snorted. “Jerry Bontrager? Another shepherd who can’t seem to keep his flock inside the fence.”

  “So it’s pride that keeps us from the love of Jesus, then.” Christopher knew he shouldn’t have said that, but this conversation was getting ridiculous.

  “Nee. It is not pride! We are to keep ourselves unspotted from the world.”

  “We can do that and still show lo
ve. Don’t you see? That is what Jesus did.” Father, please open their hearts. “My son may drive a truck and dress Englisch, but he is a good, Godly man. He loves his family. He walks uprightly. He attends church faithfully. He does not live a wicked lifestyle.”

  “But he was born Amish. He was baptized Amish.”

  “I realize that. Again, I ask you. Should a man continue down a path that he knows leads to destruction?” He eyed the men carefully. “I know Der Herr chose me for this position, and I do not take it lightly. I love most of the ways of our people. But when we see that something is not working, maybe we need to consider changing it. I realize we don’t like change. But sometimes Gott opens our eyes and shows us a better way. Some changes are for the better. I can’t help but think that perhaps Der Herr has put me here for such a time as this.”

  “We have already discussed this privately, and we’ve made our decision. Since you will not submit to the Ordnung, you are to be placed under the bann.”

  Christopher’s heart ached deeply. Not because they’d placed him under the bann, but because his people, these ones he loved and lived amongst, were rejecting the ways of Gott. A song popped into his head and he couldn’t help but utter the words aloud. “Though none go with me, still I will follow.”

  ~

  Later, Christopher and his fraa, Judy, sat in the main room, enjoying the warmth of the fire as a brisk breeze picked up out yonder.

  “You will not consider becoming an Englischer and driving a car, will you? Seventy-five is too old to be learning Englisch ways, I’m thinking.” Judy’s knitting needles clacked together in rhythm.

  Christopher grinned. “A car, you say? I hadn’t thought of that. I think I still might remember how to drive from my youngie days.”

  Judy gasped. Her knitting needles stilled. “You never told me you had a car!”

  Christopher chuckled. “That’s because I knew you probably wouldn’t have let me court you if you thought I was one of those worldly boys.”

  She nodded. “You’re right. I probably wouldn’t.”

  “Ach, the things we needlessly worry over. Do you really think Der Herr cares whether we drive a car or a horse and buggy?”