An Amish Christmas (11 page)

“What is this in Pennsylvania Dutch?” John patted his head.

“Your
kobb,
” Noah replied.

“And this?” John pulled up a lock of hair.

“
Hoah,
” Anna answered quickly.

John repeated the word then held up his hand. “What do you call this?”

“Hand,” Noah said before Anna could.

John shook his head at the boy. “No, come on. What’s the Amish word for hand?”

Noah and Anna fell into a fit of giggles. Even Eli gave a little chuckle. John glanced at Karen, a questioning look on his face. She stifled her mirth at his confusion. “The Amish word for hand
is
hand, John.”

He began laughing, too. “At least I don’t have to learn all new words to learn Amish. That should make it easier. Give me another that’s the same.”

“English.” Jacob’s tone made the word sound like an insult as he rose and walked out of the room.

Anna shook her head. “It’s
Englisch.
That one’s close but it’s not the same. Fox, that’s the same.”

Eli laid down his book. “Bushel.”

“Blind,” Karen said, racking her brain for more identical words.

“Land,” Anna supplied one more.

“What I need is a teacher.” John was looking at Karen when he said it. She caught a glimpse of longing in his eyes, but he looked away so quickly she knew he was trying to hide it from her.

Sadness crept into her chest. They were both struggling to mask their true feelings. How long could they keep up this charade?

Anna said, “I will be your
teetshah.
You can use my schoolbooks.”

John smiled at Anna, but Karen saw the effort it took. Her heart broke for him all over again.

On a Sunday morning nearly a month after his arrival at the farm John watched the Imhoff family leave for church from the window of the grandfather house kitchen. For a moment he was tempted to go with them, but he wasn’t sure an English person would be welcome.

He had learned from Anna, his new and devoted teacher of all things Amish, that the Amish had no church buildings. They held their services in the homes of members rotating the services from house to house every other week.

He’d also learned the Imhoffs wouldn’t be back until early afternoon as a meal always followed the services. As far as he was concerned, that left him with far too much time on his hands. He didn’t like being alone.

Had he always been that way? Or was it a new condition brought on by his trauma?

Picking up his Bible, he read for an hour, absorbing
the words and trying to see how they applied to his own life. For a while his restless spirit was calmed, but eventually he closed the book and started looking for something else to do.

His options were limited. On Sunday the library in Hope Springs would be closed. He’d already made several trips into town to check the NamUs website, but he hadn’t found anyone looking for a man of his description. The stories in the news and on the website about loved ones who’d vanished without a trace were as depressing as not finding information about himself. How could so many people disappear? How could he be one of them?

Slipping into his coat, he bundled up against the cold and headed out to the barn. He’d been unable to find work yet and so had spent more time training the horses than they really needed but it was something he enjoyed.

When he opened the door, a gray tomcat, one of the dozen or so that kept the rodent population under control, sat in the center aisle licking his paw. Music started playing. John heard the tinkling sounds of a waltz as if it were coming from a music box.

A sharp pain stabbed his temple. He squeezed his eyes shut. Suddenly, he was in a sunlit room with a large window. A white cat lay curled on a window-seat cushion in a patch of sunlight. As John watched, the animal stood, stretched with lazy feline grace, then jumped to the floor. Once there, it padded over to sit beside the front door. John heard a key in the lock. He sucked in a breath knowing the door was about to open. Blind dread filled his mind.

A loud whinny erased the scene.

John found himself staring at the empty center aisle of the Imhoff barn. The music was gone. He stumbled
forward until he reached One-Way’s stall. There, he leaned against the door drawing in harsh gulps of air to fill his starving lungs.

“Are you okay?” The tentative question came from overhead. John looked up to see Jacob staring at him from the hayloft. He heard the sound of footsteps moving away, but he couldn’t see anyone else.

“Not really.” Closing his eyes, John willed his racing heart to slow. The searing pain in his head died away bit by bit.

“What’s the matter with you?”

John’s first thought was to say nothing, but he stopped himself. Why lie to the boy? He began massaging his temples with his fingertips. “Sometimes I get memory flashes. When I do it hurts.”

Jacob looked skeptical. “Did you remember who you are?”

“I never remember anything that will help me. I know this is weird, but did you hear music just now?”

Jacob sat on the edge of the opening and let his feet dangle, sending a shower of straw onto John’s head. “What did you remember?”

Brushing the straw from his hair, John said, “I remembered a white cat sitting in the window. I remember the sound of a music box. Nothing that helps me figure out who I am. I’m beginning to wonder if I’ll ever know.”

Hearing a noise, John looked up to see Jacob lower himself from the hayloft floor. He hung for a second by his hands then dropped lightly down beside John. Jacob adjusted his black hat and said, “You should go back to the English world where you belong.”

As Jacob turned and sauntered toward the door, John caught a whiff of cigarette smoke. “Who else was up there with you?”

Jacob didn’t reply. It seemed he wasn’t about to rat on his friends.

John yelled after him, “Why aren’t you at church?”

“Why aren’t you?” came Jacob’s reply. He walked out of the barn without looking back.

John muttered to himself, “Because I don’t know if I belong in church. I don’t know where God wants me.”

Opening One-Way’s stall, John snapped a lead to his halter and went to lead the young horse outside to the exercise corral. As he passed by Molly’s stall, he glanced in. The mare stood in the corner, her head drooping and flecks of foam speckling her chest.

Tying up One-Way, John stepped into the stall with Molly. She still bore the sweaty marks of her harness. It was odd because the family had used a different horse to pull the buggy that morning.

John glanced in the direction Jacob had gone. The boy shouldn’t have left Molly in this condition. Annoyed with the thoughtless teenager, John quickly curried the mare and walked her until she was cooled down completely.

When he was finished, he took One-Way out to the exercise pen and turned the horse loose. Folding his arms on the top rail, John watched the young horse pacing proudly around the ring.

It had been more than a month since John’s injury. Five full weeks without answers. He’d spent day after day searching his mind for things that were not there. Karen believed God had brought him here for a purpose. What purpose? The question circled his mind the way the horse circled the paddock.

John shoved his hands in the pockets of his coat. In spite of his occasional flashbacks, his hopes of recovery faded with each passing day. He had to face the facts.
What if he never recovered his memory, never found his past?

What if God had a reason for making him forget that past? What if his former life had been so terrible that he couldn’t face it? Perhaps his amnesia was a blessing and not a curse.

Could he accept that? Right now, right this minute, could he decide to stop searching?

Hadn’t he already found everything he needed here? This was a place where he could make a new life. As wild as it once seemed, he could have an Amish life.

Was this what God had in mind for him? Was that why He’d brought Karen into John’s life? To show him a devout, simple way to live with God at the center of everything?

John chewed the corner of his bottom lip. He was happy here. He felt he belonged here. Should he be asking for more than that?

In the beginning he’d prayed for any crumb of information about himself. Now, he knew giving up his past was the only way he could fashion a life Karen could find acceptable. Was he willing to do that?

S
eated among the women on one of the narrow wooden benches at the preaching service, Karen glanced across the aisle, looking for her brother. Her father and Noah were seated among the men but she couldn’t see Jacob. Once again her heart grew troubled as her worry about him intensified. He had come ahead bringing the bench wagon to the Beachy farm, but Karen had not seen him since they arrived.

At the front of the room the bishop began speaking. Forced to give up her search she turned her attention to the preacher. Bishop Zook, in a solemn voice, announced the banns of Adam Troyer and Emma Wadler. The wedding was to take place the Thursday before Christmas.

There were quite a few soft murmurs of surprise from the congregation. Emma had long been considered an old maid in their community. At thirty-three she was still single but God had seen fit to bring the right man into her life. Karen had suspected as much but hadn’t known for sure. Amish couples frequently dated and planned their engagements in secret.

Although Karen was happy for her cousin, she couldn’t help the twinge of envy that marred her joy. Chiding
herself for the selfish thought, Karen decided she should take it as a sign that someday God could bring the right man into her life when the children were grown and able to manage without her.

The Sunday service lasted nearly three hours. Afterward, as the men set up tables and the women began unpacking the food for the meal, Karen and Anna followed the crowd of young people into the barn. They would have to wait their turn to eat. The elders would be served first.

Anna took off to play with several of her school friends. Looking around, Karen spied Emma and Adam being congratulated. Beyond the pair she caught sight of Jacob at last. She breathed a sigh of relief until she saw he was with a group of older boys.

They were all fast boys, known to be troublemakers and a worry to their parents. Karen wasn’t happy to see Jacob so comfortable among them. The ringleader was Henry Zook, the bishop’s youngest son, a young man who should know better.

Karen joined the group around Emma and Adam and spent a pleasant half hour listening to Adam’s family tease him about giving up his bachelor ways.

Later, on their way home in the early afternoon Karen noticed her father had become unusually quiet. He’d had his cast removed the day before, but he still wore his arm in a sling. Checking on her siblings, Karen saw Anna and Noah were dozing in the backseat. Jacob followed behind them with the bench wagon.

Karen said, “Is something wrong, Papa? Is your arm hurting?”

“What?” He sat up straight. Karen could’ve sworn he looked guilty about something.

“I asked if your arm was bothering you?”

“
Nee,
it is fine. Did you know that Emma and Adam Troyer planned to marry?”

Karen smiled. “I knew something was up between them. I’m sure they will be happy. They have both waited a long time to find the right person.”

“A man is blessed indeed to find a woman who will make his house a home. I pray God grants them many children.” He fell silent again. Karen couldn’t shake the feeling that something was troubling him.

“You had best tell me now, Papa. You know I will find out.” Had he learned something about John? Was he trying to tell her that John would be leaving?

His eyes grew round as saucers. “What do you mean?”

“You have something on your mind. I see the signs. Whatever it is, do not be afraid to tell me.”

He nodded, then said slowly, “
Ja,
you will find out.”

“And you are afraid I’ll be upset? I won’t, Papa.”

“Very well. I have asked Nettie Sutter to marry me and she has accepted my offer.”

Karen stared at him in blank astonishment. Whatever she had been expecting, it was not this. “You’re getting married?”

Exactly where did that leave her?

The words seemed to rush out of him. “I have wanted to ask her for many months. Then I broke my arm and lost the feeling in my hand. I knew I couldn’t ask her to marry a man unable to support her or his own children. But God has seen fit to heal me and I thank Him for that. Today, when I heard the bishop publish the banns for Emma I felt it was the right time to approach Nettie. She said yes. She will make a
goot
stepmother. She is a devout woman. The children already know and like her.”

“
Ja,
she is a
goot
woman.” Karen’s mind reeled. Nettie would become the woman of the house. She would run the home as she saw fit and Eli would support her decisions. Karen would have to step aside and give up the reins of control.

She would go from being the woman of the house back to being an unmarried daughter. In her community she was already seen as an old maid with few marriage prospects. All of her friends had married by twenty. Most had several children by the age of twenty-four.

“You are taking this very well.” Her father smiled in relief and patted her knee.

“I want you to be happy, Papa.”

“
Danki.
We have decided to wait until next fall. Nettie wants her children who live in Pennsylvania to be able to attend and one of her daughters there is expecting soon. I’m telling you this because I want you to start going to the singings again. You must look about for a husband of your own, Karen. Who knows, perhaps there will be more than one wedding in the family.”

A husband of her own.
As her father’s words sank in, one name slipped into Karen’s mind. John Doe.

Quickly, she dismissed the thought. Even without her responsibilities to the children and her father, she had made a vow before God and the community to uphold the ways of the Amish faith. Her first responsibility was always to God.

John was an outsider and forbidden. No matter how much she liked him she could never forget that fact.

Anna pursed her lips as she stared at John. “What is
haus?
”

John held back his grin. The kid was so serious. “House.”

“Haus-dach?”
Anna snapped quickly.

House something. He racked his brain until the answer popped into his head. “House roof.”

“
Goot.
What is
natt?
”

“That is… Don’t tell me. That is wet.” Proud of himself, he smiled broadly.

“
Nee.
Wet is
nass. Natt
is north.”

“North,
natt.
Wet,
nass.
Got it.” Learning a new language wasn’t easy. Especially when Karen was nearby to distract him.

“Handkerchief?”

His shoulders slumped. “You’re making this too hard, Anna.”

“We did this one yesterday.” She gave him
that look.
The one that reminded him so much of Karen when one of the children stepped out of line.

He took his best guess. “Handkerchief is
shoe-duck.
”

“No, it’s
shnubbe-duch,
” Anna corrected in her most serious voice.

“Oh, come on. I was close.”

Glancing to where Karen stood at the sink listening, John caught her smile at his wheedling. He didn’t know what was more adorable, Anna as the benevolent and determined teacher or Karen as his amused and supportive audience.

For the past three days when Anna arrived home from school she quickly finished her chores and set up her classroom at the kitchen table. She called John in from work when she was ready. Their interchanges had become the highlight of his afternoons.

Anna said, “Now we’re going to work on colors. What color is Karen’s dress?”

He leaned back in his chair happy for the opportunity
to study Karen openly. “That’s difficult to say. Your sister’s dress is sort of sea-foam green. Her apron is black, but her hair is honey-gold. Her lips are ruby-red and her eyes are the same beautiful sky-blue that you have, Anna.”

Karen continued peeling potatoes. “And John is trying to avoid answering the question because he doesn’t know the Amish word for green.”

Busted. “Sadly, that is exactly what I’m trying to do. Anna, can we do the colors tomorrow? I have to go into town this afternoon. I’ve got a job interview.”

Karen looked at him in surprise. “A job interview? Where?”

“Your father made arrangements with Reuben Beachy to give me a try. If I can do the job he’ll take me on as an apprentice.”

“The harness maker? That sounds like a fine job.”

Without a driver’s license or a social security card John was limited to where he could apply for work. The Amish carried neither of those trappings of the outside world. “Any job is a good thing because I need to be able to support myself. Your father has kindly loaned me the farm wagon to drive.”

“Why don’t you take the buggy?” Karen offered. “Your
daed
is using it.” John glanced at Anna to see if he’d gotten the word for father correct. She grinned and gave him a thumbs-up.

A puzzled expression appeared on Karen’s features. “Where has Papa gone?”

“To see Nettie Sutter,” Anna answered. “He’s sweet on her.”

“No kidding?” John looked to Karen for confirmation.

She nodded. “Anna, can you get me a jar of peaches from the cellar?”

When the child was out of the room, Karen turned to John. “My father and Nettie are to be married next fall. Please don’t say anything to the children yet. He hasn’t told them.”

“Sure. Are you okay with your father getting re married?”

Her chin came up. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Won’t it make some big changes for you?”

“I will have more help in the kitchen. I won’t mind that.” She didn’t sound enthusiastic.

“What things will you mind?” he asked gently.

Laying her knife aside, she bowed her head. “I have raised them like my own children. Anna can barely remember our mother. Now I must step aside and let another woman take my place. How do I do that?”

Rising from the table, John walked to where she stood and rested his hands on her shoulders. “You have always done what is best for the children. You will continue to do that.”

She tipped her head to the side and laid her cheek against his fingers. “You are right. The children must come first.”

John’s gesture of comfort quickly changed into something deeper. His need to hold her threatened to destroy his self-control. He could feel her slender collar bones beneath his hands, the softness of her cheek against his knuckles. His body ached with the effort it took not to slip his arms around her and pull her against him. “
Danki,
” she breathed the word out and he knew she treasured his touch as much as he treasured her nearness.

The cellar door banged opened and Anna raced into the room with a jar of peaches in her hand. “Is one
enough, sister?” she asked, setting the quart container on the table.

John quickly dropped his hands and stepped away, hoping the child hadn’t noticed. “
Ja,
one is fine.” Karen picked up her knife and began peeling potatoes again.

John took hold of the jar. “Let me open this for you.”

“I can manage,” Karen turned to take it from him, but he shifted away.

“I’ve got it.” He gritted his teeth as he tried to twist the lid and break the seal. It didn’t budge.

“I have a jar opener if you need it,” Karen offered, a smile twitching at the corner of her adorable lips.

“No.” He grunted as he battled the tightest lid ever to grace a jar of produce. Karen folded her arms and waited. Anna giggled.

He held it below his waist to try a new angle. That did the trick. The ring gave way, he popped off the seal and in triumph, held the jar aloft. It slipped from his hand, struck the corner of the table and shattered, spilling peaches, glass shards and juice down his pant legs and across the floor boards.

In the ensuring stunned silence, Anna sighed and said, “I’ll go get another jar, but John can’t open this one.”

Feeling his face heat to flaming red, he said to Karen, “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t worry.” Karen struggled to keep from laughing but lost the battle. Her delightful giggle gladdened his heart.

Suddenly, he was laughing, too. He spread his hands wide. “I got it open. What more do you want?”

She regained a modicum of composure, but giggles
continued to slip out. “I didn’t want them on the floor, John.”

He looked down and saw a peach half had landed on the toe of his shoe. He raised his foot toward Karen. “This one is still good.”

She broke into laughter and turned her face away. “Yuck.”

Plucking the peach from his soaking shoe, he said, “Yuck. After my great display of strength all you can say is yuck? I’ll show you yuck.”

He made as if to press the fruit to her face. She squealed and ducked away, slipping around to the other side of the table.

“John, you wouldn’t.”

“Don’t tempt me, woman.” He advanced slowly. He was between her and the doorway. There was nowhere for her to run. That didn’t stop her from trying. She darted past him, but he caught her and backed her into the wall. With her laughter still ringing in his ears, he touched the peach to the tip of her nose.

“John!” She rubbed her nose vigorously on her sleeve. The laughter died in his throat as he realized he had her exactly where he wanted her. In his arms. Close to his heart.

She met his gaze and the smile faded from her face, too. Her lips were so close. All he had to do was bend down a little. When he did, she turned her face away. With her arms braced against his chest, she said, “Please, don’t.”

She might as well have asked him to stop breathing. But for her—he would do even that.

Karen heard the sound of Anna’s footsteps coming up the stairs over the drumming of her pulse. Staring into
John’s eyes, Karen saw the same intense longing there that was racing through her blood. Her heart yearned to answer his unspoken request, but she could not.

His expression went carefully blank. Dropping his arms from around her, he stepped back and said, “I’ll help clean up.”

Anna came into the room and set the second jar on the cabinet. “I’m not going to fetch another one.”