Amish Christmas Joy
Read Amish Christmas Joy Online
Authors: Patricia Davids
Instant Father
One minute, Caleb Mast is an oil-rig roughneck who answers to no one but himself. The next, he’s the father of a special-needs child he never knew existed. What kind of home can a man like him—without faith or community—provide for an eight-year-old girl? For little Joy’s sake, Caleb returns to the Amish community he left behind years ago. His daughter bonds with Amish schoolteacher Leah Belier, and Caleb feels hopeful for once. But Leah blames Caleb for dashing long-ago dreams and can’t bear to trust him. With Christmas weeks away, one special girl just may bring two hearts—and an entire community—together.
Brides of Amish Country: Finding true love in the land of the Plain People.
Leah laid a protective hand on Joy’s head.
“Patience and kindness are the keys to raising a special child,” she told Caleb. “All children are gifts from God, but we believe a child such as Joy is one of His most cherished gifts.”
Caleb’s hands dropped to his sides. He looked…defeated. “I know what the Amish believe. That’s why I’m here. The
only
reason I’m here.”
She didn’t understand. He tipped his head slightly. “The prodigal son has returned. You don’t look happy to see me.”
She wasn’t. She didn’t care if he knew it. He had changed a great deal in the past nine years. The wild, handsome Amish boy she had known had matured into a tall, rugged-looking man with a muscular frame and deeply tanned skin. He wore his dark hair cut short in the
Englisch
way, not in the bowl-cut style the men of her community wore.
Leah realized he was studying her, too. Watching her with hard, piercing gray eyes that gave away little of what he was thinking.
PATRICIA DAVIDS
After thirty-five years as a nurse, Pat has hung up her stethoscope to become a full-time writer. She enjoys spending her new free time visiting her grandchildren, doing some long-overdue yard work and traveling to research her story locations. She resides in Wichita, Kansas. Pat always enjoys hearing from her readers. You can visit her on the web at
www.patriciadavids.com
.
Whosoever shall receive one of such children in my name, receiveth me: and whosoever shall receive me, receiveth not me, but him that sent me.
—Mark
9:37
This book is lovingly dedicated to the parents
of special-needs children everywhere.
Chapter One
L
oud pounding pulled Caleb Mast out of the first good night’s sleep he’d had in a month. He squinted at the clock on his bedside table. Who was beating on his door at three-forty in the morning?
Staggering out of bed, he made his way through his condo. After four weeks on an oil platform in the Gulf, he was ready for some downtime. He’d stayed twice as long as his normal rotation to cover for an injured crewmate. The twelve-to thirteen-hour shifts seven days a week were tough. Lousy weather and a shorthanded crew made the extra two weeks a killer. All he wanted was to crawl back in bed.
If some of his crewmates were looking to celebrate on their first night in, they could have fun without him. He didn’t do the party scene. Not since... He dismissed the thought without finishing it. He didn’t look back. The pounding resumed.
He yanked open the front door. “If this building isn’t on fire you’re in trouble. What?”
A woman stood on his doorstep. She had a little girl beside her. Thunder rumbled in the distance. A fine mist was falling, scenting the air with rain and making a shimmering halo around the streetlamp across the roadway. A yellow hatchback with a dented door sat parked beneath it.
The woman pushed back her frizzy blond hair. “You’re a hard man to find, Caleb.”
The voice belonged to a bad memory from his past. “Valerie?”
She gave a halfhearted smile. “You remember my name. That’s something.”
Was she kidding? He had turned his life upside down, cut bone-deep family ties and moved halfway across the country with Valerie Perry. A year later, she left him a goodbye note with no forwarding address and an empty bank account. Now, after nearly nine years, she was back. Why?
There were dark circles under her eyes and a droop to her full lips. She was thin as a rail. Her once-thick brown hair was bleached a brittle white-blond. It made her look cheap. Even at this hour, she wore heavy eye makeup. She licked her dry, cracked lips.
He folded his arms over his chest. “What do you want?”
“You could pretend you’re happy to see me.”
“If you’re here to repay the money you stole, then I’m thrilled.”
She dropped her gaze. “I’ve come for...another reason.”
“Mama, I’m tired,” the girl whined. She peered at him through a mop of blond hair, straight and pale as wheat straw. He was stunned to see the characteristic round face, small upturned eyes and slightly flat nose that indicated she had Down syndrome.
His Amish mother had always told him such children were God’s most precious gifts, sent to special families for a special purpose.
“I’m hungry. I wanna go home.” The girl’s speech was slow and halting. She hid her face against Valerie’s leg.
“Hush. I’m talking,” Valerie snapped.
Sympathy for the kid made Caleb take a step back from the door. October in Houston was balmy compared to the crisp autumn weather of his childhood home in Ohio, but the rain was picking up. “You want to come in?”
She steered the child past him into the living room. “Lie down on the sofa while we grown-ups talk.”
Talk about what? What did they have to say to each other after so long? He should have shut the door in her face. She wouldn’t be here if she didn’t want something.
“But I’m hungry, Mama.”
No matter what Val had done, the child deserved his kindness. “I’ve got some cold pizza and milk in the fridge. It’s not much, but she’s welcome to it.”
Breakfast of champions. His Amish mother would be horrified to see him feeding a kid pizza at this time of the night. Then again, she’d be horrified by a lot in his current life.
The look the girl gave him was tired, fearful and hopeful all at the same time. He crouched to her level. “It’s pepperoni pizza. Is that okay?”
She nodded once. He glanced at Valerie. “Would you like something? Coffee?”
“Sure.” She followed him into the kitchen. He pulled a pizza box from the fridge, placed a slice on a paper plate and stuck it in the microwave.
Valerie took a seat at the glass-topped table in the corner. “Things are such a mess. I didn’t know where else to go. My boyfriend kicked us out, the jerk. My mom died last month.”
“I’m sorry.” Caleb had never met her mother. He shot a look toward Valerie as he spooned grounds into the coffeepot. She had a tight grip on her purse. She bit the corner of her lip and looked everywhere but at him. When the microwave bell dinged, she almost jumped out of her chair.
He checked to make sure the slice wasn’t too hot, then carried it into the living room. Valerie’s daughter was sitting upright on the sofa, struggling to keep her eyes open. He handed her the pizza. “I’ll get your milk in a minute, okay?”
She snatched the plate from him and started tearing into the pizza. He went back to put a second slice in the microwave. Clearly, one wasn’t going to be enough.
Valerie was on her feet, pacing the length of the room. “Mom’s old man doesn’t want the kid around anymore. Not that Joy is a problem. She’s not. She’s quiet as a mouse.”
“Joy, is that her name?”
“Yeah, Joy Lynn.”
“Nice.” What else could he say?
“I thought you’d be married by now. I remember how much you wanted kids.”
“I came close, but it didn’t work out. She went back with her ex.” And took her two kids with her. Another painful chapter of his life with a rotten ending. Parenthood didn’t seem to be in the plan for him. The coffee finished dripping. He took a mug out of the cupboard and began to fill it.
Valerie sniffed and rubbed her nose with the back of her hand. “Joy is your daughter. I thought you should know.”
He replaced the coffeepot with great care and set the mug down, amazed that he hadn’t dropped either. “What?”
“I know I should have told you sooner, but she’s your kid.”
“I don’t believe you.” Val always twisted the truth.
“Joy, how old are you?” she asked over her shoulder.
“I’m eight, Mama.”
“When is your birthday, honey?”
“You know that. December twenty-fifth. That is Christmas Day. Nana says I’m her Christmas Joy...only, she has gone to heaven, hasn’t she?” Joy’s voice faded away.
Valerie had left him in early summer. It was actually possible.
Unlike the last woman who claimed he fathered her babe.
He refused to think about that final, painful confrontation with his Amish family. He had to focus on the present problem. Gripping the edge of the counter, he glared at Valerie. “Is this some kind of joke?”
She took a step back. “No. Mom’s death made me realize that Joy should get to know you. You’re all the family she has left.”
“She has you,” he retorted, wondering what kind of mother she was. Hard to imagine the self-absorbed, party-all-night woman he’d known in that role. He glanced toward Joy in the living room and his heart skipped a beat. He had a daughter.
If Val was telling the truth, he’d missed eight precious years of his child’s life. The knowledge made him ache inside. Why had Valerie kept this from him? He would have stood by her. She had to know that.
“Mama, can I have my milk now, please? I remembered to say please. I’m being good.”
Valerie arched one thinly penciled eyebrow. “Can she have some milk, Caleb?”
He wouldn’t get his hopes up. Valerie could be lying. It was nothing new for her. He yanked open the fridge, pulled out a carton and handed it to her.
She took it, filled a glass with milk and carried it into the other room. He moved to the doorway to watch.
“Here you go. Mama left her cigarettes in the car, sweetie. Will you be okay with your daddy while I go get them?”
Joy jerked upright. “I have a daddy?” The kid sounded as surprised as he was by the news.
“Yes, you do. His name is Caleb Mast.”
“A real daddy?” Her wistful tone carried hope and wonder.
“Your real daddy,” Valerie assured her.
Joy’s eyes narrowed. She pulled back and glared at her mother. “Is he another uncle like Jimmy and Keith?”
“No. He’s your father. You’re going to love him.”
“What if I don’t?”
What if she didn’t? He wasn’t a puppy or a kitten, something a kid liked on sight. He scratched at the stubble on his cheek. He was an ex-Amish oil-rig roughneck with few manners and a job that took him away half the year. He wasn’t anyone’s idea of a daddy. He’d given up that dream.
He turned away to get the forgotten pizza from the microwave and heard the front door open and close. He carried the second slice to Joy. She smiled when she saw it and licked the milk mustache from her upper lip.
What if she is my daughter?
Did it change anything? He didn’t know her. She didn’t know him. How much bonding could happen in the short time he spent ashore? Besides, he was about to take a job on one of the rigs off the coast of Brazil. He stood next on the company list to transfer. He expected to get word to pack his bags any day. He’d be gone for a full year when the opening came through.
She finished the milk and handed him the plate with the glass. “I like pizza.”
“No kidding.”
“I like animal crackers the best. I eat all the elephants first.” She rocked as she smiled.
Thunder rumbled, closer now. Her smile vanished. She glanced fearfully at the window. “I don’t like thunder.”
“Don’t worry, it’ll be gone soon.”
She gave him a hard look. “Promise?”
“I promise.”
“Can we have pizza tomorrow?”
Where would she be tomorrow? “You’ll have to ask your mom.”
“Okay.” She yawned widely.
He might as well get her settled. He wasn’t going to send her and her mother out into the storm. Valerie had a lot more explaining to do. He gathered the bedding and soon had Joy tucked up snugly on his sofa. She was asleep in less than a minute. He bent and brushed her hair back from her face.
A special child was given for a special reason. What reason could God have for sending Joy to him?
She was a sweet kid, but was she his sweet kid? There was testing for this kind of situation. He would insist on it. Val was up to something. He settled in his recliner and waited for her to return.
Three hours later, the storm had moved on. Morning sunlight crept in beneath the window shade. Caleb rose from the chair and opened the front door for the umpteenth time. Birds twittered in the dripping trees. The walkway and street out front were glistening wet and deserted.
Valerie hadn’t come back.
He heard a noise behind him. Turning, he saw Joy standing beside the couch. “Where’s my mama?”
“I wish I knew.”
Fear darkened her eyes. “I want my mama.”
“Hey, it’s okay.” He started toward her without a clue what to do next.
She backed away. “I gotta find her.”
She darted around him and ran barefoot out the door toward the street, with Caleb close on her heels.
* * *
Leah Belier added a box of crayons to her basket as she shopped with her friend Joann Weaver in the small grocery store in the village of Hope Springs, Ohio.
“Are you taking up art in your spare time?” Joann asked with a grin.
“
Nee.
I noticed Emmy Chupp borrowing colors from the other students this afternoon. She loves to draw. I think she has used up the ones her mother sent with her at the beginning of the school year. I decided to get her some more.”
“For Christmas?”
“That’s still four weeks away. She needs them now. I’ll get her colored pencils as a Christmas gift.”
“That’s sweet of you. How is her father getting along? I heard he broke his leg.”
“He hasn’t been able to work at the lumberyard for several weeks. Honestly, I’m worried about the family. Emmy didn’t bring any lunch today. She told me she forgot it at home.”
“Knowing you, I expect she ate your lunch, and you went hungry.”
Leah chuckled. “It wouldn’t hurt me to miss a meal or two, but I always bring extra food just in case.”
She had shared her ample sandwich with Emmy and made a mental note to check in on the family tomorrow. As the teacher at the local Amish school, Leah kept a close eye on all her students. She was in a better position than most to see where trouble was brewing.
A new box of twenty-four crayons would cheer the shy child who liked to draw. Leah added some peanut butter and jelly to her basket. A few extra groceries might come in handy with lunches. If it looked as if they needed more help, she would let Bishop Zook know. No man’s family went hungry in their Amish community. Caring for one another was a duty, not a chore.
She carried her purchases to the front of the store. The
Englisch
owner, Mr. McGregor, ran her items over the scanner. A big bear of a man with thick, curly gray hair, a wide smile and a booming voice, he and his tiny wife were longtime fixtures in Hope Springs.
