A Simple Christmas Wish (9 page)

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 than 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.

“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.”

“You’re sure?”

“
Ja.
Get your coat and come on.”

Soon they were trekking over the path that had been made earlier. The snow was getting inside her boots, but she was more concerned with how the snow would’ve gotten into Holly’s shoes and whether she was warm enough in that thin dress and shawl. She had been completely serious about her threat to get a plane to fly Holly out of here if she got sick.

“You seem deep in thought,” Benjamin said.

“Oh—sorry.” She looked over at him. “I’m just worried about Holly.”

“Why?”

She let her guard down, explaining about how Holly’s clothes seemed inappropriate and how the pins bothered her and how her shoes were probably all soggy from the snow.

“I wouldn’t be too concerned. Those black stockings the girls wear are pretty thick and warm and they have lots of layers of under-things beneath those dresses.” He chuckled. “Trust me, I was the only brother of three sisters.”

“
Three
sisters?”

“
Ja.
Ruth lives in a settlement a few miles from here.”

“Does she know about Miri?”

“
Ja.
Everyone knows, Rachel. This is a small world here.”

“Oh.”

“Mamm has probably taken Miriam’s death harder than anyone.” He sighed. “Although it’s been difficult for all of us. I think every one of us feels somewhat responsible.”

“Responsible for her death?” Rachel was confused.

“I mean responsible that she left the settlement. As senseless as that may seem, it probably makes us feel somewhat responsible for her death too.”

“Oh.” Rachel shivered, pulling her scarf more snugly
around her neck. However, she wasn’t sure if it was the temperature that had chilled her just now . . . or his words.

“Anyway, what I’m trying to say is that Mamm is not exactly herself. My father died last spring, which is why I’m helping with the farm. But this news about Miriam—well, it’s been hard on her.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I was hoping you might be able to say something to encourage her.”

“Right . . . well, I’ll do what I can.”

He pointed to a red barn that was very similar to the Millers’ barn. “That’s where they are. It sounds like they’re already having lunch. It’s a pretty casual affair. Mostly just sandwiches.” He grinned at her. “How do you feel about peanut butter and marshmallow cream?”

“What—that’s a sandwich?”

He nodded. “It’s one of the favorites.”

“Holly will probably love it.”

He was leading her toward a door that was partly open, and she could see lots of people, all dressed just like the Millers and Holly had been dressed, milling about. Women seemed clustered on one side and men on the other. Some were eating. Some were talking. And some of the younger children, including Holly, she noticed, were running around and playing a game of tag or hide-n-seek or something. The barn was warmer than she expected and the general atmosphere was surprisingly cheerful. She knew she should be relieved, but once again, she resented this. She wanted to find them all sitting solemnly with hands folded and the children fidgeting, and she wanted Holly to complain and say she wanted to go
home—home to Chicago. But right now Holly was chasing a boy around the hay bales, stacked like bleachers in the back of the barn. This was a children’s paradise.

“Mamm is over there.” He led her past a food table, with a couple other rough-board-and-sawhorse tables nearby. Sitting at one of them were a number of elderly looking women.