Merry's Christmas: Two Book Set (Amish) (23 page)

Aunt Hope sat down beside her. “Sure. Anything.”

“You were raised Plain,” Charity started, “just like we were.”

Aunt Hope nodded. “That’s right.”

“You left all of us, but was it more than that? Did it mean leaving your faith, too?”

Aunt Hope took Charity’s hand in hers. “Oh, Sweetie, no. Not at all. I didn’t leave my faith.”

It was hard to understand, but still... What a relief it was to hear those words. “You didn’t?”

Aunt Hope smiled softly. “Oh, I guess I ‘ran around’ longer than I should have at first, and it must have seemed to my brother that I’d gone completely off the rails, but then... You know what I found out? See, Charity, I found out that God... He’s so much bigger than I used to think. He’s all over Amish Country, yeah. But turns out He’s all over the place, here in the English world, too.”

Charity’s mind clouded. “I do know that. They teach us to respect people of other faiths. But being Plain people... The Bible, it talks about coming out from the world, about being separate.”

“You know, it might surprise you, Charity, but I still read my Bible most every day.”

A weight lifted off Charity. “You do?”

Hope nodded. “The same Bible that talks about being separate, it also says to be in the world but not of it.” Hope opened the worn Bible on her nightstand and flipped through its pages. There were underlines and highlights. Little notes extended into the margins. “Look here, it says ‘Go ye into all the world and preach the Gospel.’ Jesus’ words. Not mine.”

Never once had Charity questioned what she’d been taught. But seeing the words of her Lord, there in red amongst the black and white, she could hardly find room to argue.

Hope set her Bible aside. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s just that different people get different marching orders. Maybe you’re called to stay inside and I’m called to stay out. And if I’m in pants or in my uniform or in my footie pajamas that have holes in them, it doesn’t matter. I guess I’ve made peace with that. It’s all good.”

Still unsure, Charity took it in. “You go to the English churches?”

Hope smiled. “I go to the same one as Myrna. Ivan sings in the choir, too—more of a joyful noise, really. But trust me, Charity. No matter what anybody says, you have not been to church till you’ve gone at least one time with Myrna.”

Charity took a seat in the church pew between Daniel and Aunt Hope. Her breath felt shallow in her chest. The sanctuary alone was a far cry from anything she’d ever seen. For starters, the place was much larger than the home church where they gathered every other week.

Vaulted ceilings with exposed beams reached toward the sky. Colored light shone in through intricate stained glass. The way those windows were pieced together almost reminded her of a quilt. Festive Christmas decorations were all about the sanctuary. Tiny white electric lights twinkled on a tree covered with handmade ornaments, all in white and gold. There were stringed instruments and a piano, an organ, even drums.

Mostly, though, it was the crowd. Charity turned to look behind them.

Hundreds were already there; more streamed down the aisles. Singles, families, couples of all ages—people of so many races gathered together. Just as Hope had prepared her, the women were dressed up in ways Charity would never describe as plain. The men were in everything from business suits to blue jeans. Some of the ladies wore fancy hats, while others left their heads uncovered. Still, there was something that seemed to set these people apart from the masses she’d seen before in Manhattan. It was the smiles on their faces. 

A pianist began to softly play. Myrna stepped in front as a large Gospel Choir emerged and began to encircle the altar. There was Ivan, among them. It didn’t take long for him to find them, too, judging from the wave he sent their way. Should she wave back? She pressed the backs of her fingers to her chin, then wiggled them discreetly. Ivan grinned broadly in return.

Charity exchanged a look with Aunt Hope. She waved back at Ivan, too, but with a pleasant reserve on her face. Going to the same church after breaking off a relationship must have its challenges. They would both have to forget themselves and remember why they were there.

A violinist joined the piano. Her face aglow, Myrna began to sing. She had heard Myrna sing before, but never quite so soulfully.

“Joyful, joyful we adore thee,

God of glory, Lord of love...”

With a flourish from the drums, the entire orchestra came alive; the tempo increased. The choir began to hum behind Myrna, swaying in time. Something seemed to spark across the congregation. Chills skittered across Charity’s forearms. She glanced around her. Some people nodded, some lightly rocked left and right, mirroring the choir.

Charity felt Daniel slip his hand into hers. He hiked a congenial brow. It was certainly a new experience, for both of them. His gaze directed hers down to Aunt Hope’s feet. She was tapping her toes to the beat, right along with the rest of them.

Merrily, Myrna called out to the congregation. “So, tell me. Are you feeling joyful this morning?”

Though there was just a light smattering in response, Myrna persisted. “Come on, now. Wake up, Sleepyheads. I’m gonna give you another chance. Are you feeling joyful?”

This time, all around them, congregants shouted back enthusiastically. Surprisingly, Aunt Hope was one of them. Charity exchanged a look with Daniel. It was hard to know exactly what to do. Should she just watch and listen?

Myrna turned to the choir as the orchestration swelled. “Choir, help me now! Put those hands together. Let’s bring some of that Christmas joy to the world.”

Daniel gave her hand a light squeeze as the choir began to clap in rhythm. No one up there clapped with more abandon than Ivan. It wasn’t just the choir, though. The whole congregation was picking up the cadence, too. Myrna spoke in time. Congregants began to call out things like “come on” and “bring it” and “that’s right.” Not even Bethany had told her about a church quite like this. It was unlike anything she’d experienced in a lifetime of Sundays at home.

Before she knew it, Myrna gestured toward them. “Now, we’ve got some friends here today,” she began.

Heat crawled up Charity’s neck, into her cheeks. The weight of a thousand eyes pressed upon her.

Aunt Hope draped an affectionate arm around her shoulders. Charity returned a grateful smile.
She understands.

“Now, this young couple over here,” Myrna continued, “they’re from Hope’s people. They might dress a little different, but they’re still very much a part of our family of faith. The thing about the Amish is, they know how to raise a barn. That’s right. All them get together. They’re good to each other. They help one another out.”

Quite sure her face was scarlet, Charity shot a sheepish grin at Daniel.

“So, let’s go on and do our own version of that,” Myrna went on, “just to make them feel at home. Ain’t no room to raise a barn in here. Uh-uh. So instead, how ‘bout we just raise the roof, all right? Because between you and me, Brother and Sister-friends, I hear the thing ain’t on too tight.”

Shouts from the congregation increased as the orchestra swelled. The choir burst into jubilant song:

“Joy to the world, the Lord is come

Let earth receive her King!”

The carol was familiar, but never had Charity heard it sung with anywhere near this kind of exuberance. Let alone with harmonies or all those instruments. It was infectious, really. Aunt Hope was caught up immediately. She shot a nod Charity’s way, welcoming her to add her voice to the throng.

Could I? Should I?

Charity checked Daniel. He was taking it all in very quietly. What would he think her if she went along with anything outside of their traditions?

“Let every heart prepare Him room...” They sang those words like they really meant them. And for the first time, she really heard them.

Every heart. Not just Amish hearts. Not just English.
  Their hearts, my heart, united in spirit. Tentatively, Charity opened her mouth. The moment she did, a gentle effervescence enveloped her. What was that? Everything inside her shimmered. From the top of her head, to the tips of her toes. She closed her eyes and drank it in deeply.
Oh, dear Gott... You’re here. You really are here, too.

This was worship. It truly was, in an entirely new light. No, it wasn’t like anything she’d ever experienced among the Amish. But suddenly, the truth dawned on her, like whispers on the wind: it was the birth of the very same Savior they celebrated. And somehow, in the midst of it all, she could not help but sing.

nine

L
eanne’s ankles throbbed. In some ways, she was torn about calling in sick again. It was always harder to face work on Sundays, when Hope had the day off. The Sunday crew wasn’t nearly as patient with her.
Motivate
, she coaxed herself. She felt herself drifting off again. Dreamland beckoned. Frank could call in a temp.

Sleeping in sure beat standing on her aching feet for hours on end. It had it all over scouring pots and pans. She opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling. There was definitely a downside to taking the sick day, too. It meant she’d be alone, rattling around in Hope’s apartment.

Smokey meowed at her feet.

“Sure. Now you like me.”

As aloof as the cat had been when she’d tried to make friends, apparently, come feeding time, Smokey knew no strangers. Leanne put the pillow over her head.

Smokey kept on meowing. It wasn’t a contented sort of one-syllable mew meant as a greeting. That, she could blow off easily enough. Nope. These were back-to-back, impossibly elongated, ear-twisting
meeee-owwwws.
Smokey was demanding attention.

How was she supposed to ignore all that racket?   Hope must have already fed her, before they’d all left for church. It had been nice enough of Hope to invite her to go with them, but please. The last thing she wanted was to darken the door of a house of worship, not in her condition. Just the thought of that gave her the shivers. As royally as she’d messed up, keeping as low a profile with God and the world as possible was the best way to go this Christmas.

Leanne thought back over the years of Christmases at home. Christmas was a time when the child in her mother really came out of hiding. It was insane the way her mom always got such a kick out of decorating and baking.

Momma King also took gift-wrapping to an almost ludicrous new level. There were coded tags with different characters’ names on all the packages each year. No one in their family could ever figure out whose gift was whose before sun-up on Christmas day.

Last year, the gifts had all been tagged with the Wise Men’s names. She thought she’d cracked the code, but wrong again, Dingbat. As it had turned out, she’d gotten all three wrong. She was Balthazar. Jay-Jay was Melchior, and Dad was Caspar.

Leanne smirked. When she was ten, she’d succeeded at sneaking a peek downstairs in the wee hours of Christmas morning. (It wasn’t so hard to get up then, when she wasn’t the size of an elephant seal.) Even then, tiptoeing down there would’ve been a lot easier without that creaky step near the bottom. Still, she’d made it.

By flashlight, she’d leaned in close to the Christmas tree. She’d read all the clues to decipher  Momma’s goofy gift-tagging code, dangling with the tinsel in front of her. That year, she wasn’t Elizabeth Bennet or even her older sister Jane. She was Mr. Darcy. They were all characters from this dusty old Jane Austen novel Momma loved to read over and over. Anyway, once she knew which gifts were hers, she’d ventured to open the most enticing box of all. It was a sleek little razor scooter. Jackpot.

Sneaking an advance peek had only worked that one year. Then, wouldn’t you know it? Her parents got wise. The following Christmas, she had found her door completely booby-trapped. A precarious pile of broomsticks, lampshades, and wooden chairs had come clattering down, just as soon as she’d turned her doorknob. What a racket that made! Of course, her misadventure had been memorialized by her dad on video. No way she’d ever live that one down.

Would there be coded packages under the tree for her this Christmas? Leanne couldn’t help but wonder. But then again, knowing her parents, she was sure of the answer. Momma and Daddy would never give up. The tree would still be up and waiting, with all of her gifts under it, when she returned home after the baby.

Being away at Christmas sure wasn’t easy, not the way she ached to see her family. But that was just it. There was no way she could bear what going home would do to them. It hung like a humongous rock around her neck. It set that familiar taunt-fest off all over again.

Seriously. How could she disappoint them by letting them see her this way? It would be hardest of all to face Daddy. How could she, after making that pledge to him that she’d wait until she was married, just like he and Momma had? How could she embarrass them like this, in front of the rest of the family and every last one of their friends? Forget about even trying to look Jaybird in the eye. Not after what she’d done. Radically humiliating. That’s what it was.

Smokey was no help. She continued to throw a kitty-fit. It wore at her nerves, like a little kid who refused to stop pestering. In a weird way, it kind of reinforced her decision. She’d have to put her baby up for adoption. Absolutely.

It hadn’t been very often that she’d toyed with the idea of keeping the baby. Not at all. For one thing, keeping the baby would mean telling her family what she’d done. Even beyond that, why would she want the responsibility of getting up to nurse a wailing infant? She hardly had the energy to scrape herself up to feed Hope’s cat.

And as if Smokey’s wall-to-wall pleas weren’t disturbing Leanne’s peace enough, Hope’s telephone started ringing in counterpoint. She stuck her fingers in her ears. The machine would pick it up eventually. Still, there was Smokey, pawing at her foot, refusing to be outlasted.

Groggily, Leanne sat up. “Okay, okay. I’ll get you something. Just give me a minute.” Wearily, Leanne rose and shuffled toward the kitchen.

After about a half a dozen rings, Hope’s answering machine did, in fact, click on. A young guy’s voice sounded over the speaker.

“
This message is for Hope Bright. It’s Sean, from the agency. I’ll try your cell, too. You have a callback tomorrow for ‘Weather Eye.’ That’s Monday, noon, same stage, same role, same everything, but be prepared to sing this time. Break a leg.
”

Whatever. Leanne opened the refrigerator. Neatly stacked by Hope’s tip jar was a slender tower of cat food cans. She pulled the first one off the top. Liver flavor.
Barf-o-rama.
Maybe tuna. She swapped it out. Fish didn’t seem all that much better.

As she set the can down to weigh the decision, she couldn’t help but let her eyes wander. There was Hope’s tip jar. The thing was almost three quarters full. It had to weigh a ton.

How much must that be in there?

She pressed her lips together as she stared at it. Here was the thing: Hope had said she could help herself to anything in the refrigerator. Sure, Hope probably meant food and drink, but what about the prenatal vitamins that she’d run out of last week? Vitamins were kind of like food, she reasoned. They were nourishment, to make the baby inside her stronger. A practically unnoticeable number of quarters from that jar could get her what she needed. She bit at the side of her cheek. It was like her hand was a magnet, being drawn toward that jar. She reached in, pulled it out, and shut the fridge.

Smokey yowled louder than ever.

Leanne unscrewed the lid. “You hush, Smokey. I’ll feed you soon enough.” Smokey tipped her head at her. “I can pay it back. Besides, I ain’t takin’ all that much. She won’t even miss it.”

Skaters whirled around the ice at the foot of the Rockefeller Center Christmas tree. Something in Charity bubbled up at the sight. Young and old, colorfully bundled, they circled in celebration of the season. As hardened as so much of the city seemed to such old-fashioned pleasures, this particular pastime was refreshing.

While Charity laced her skates, Daniel sat beside her, busying himself with his carving. He really was putting some time into it. The form of a small horse was beginning to emerge from his block of oak. It would make a nice gift.

Aunt Hope looped a bow on her skates, then rose to her feet. She glanced at Daniel. “Sure you don’t want to try?”

Daniel waved her off with a smile. “No, no. The taller the man, the harder the fall. You two go right ahead.”

Charity steadied herself on the rail as she stood on the ice. The blades seemed so thin. Tentatively, she slid a foot forward.
Whoa.
The kids made it look easy. If they could do it, she could learn. She braved another uncertain step.

Aunt Hope quickly extended a gloved hand. “I’ve got you.” Together, they waited for a break in the crowd of skaters. Aunt Hope’s breath crystallized into puffs of vapor. “All this time I’ve lived in New York City, watched them light the tree, watched the skaters, and I’ve never once set foot on this ice. First time for everything, right?”

Charity’s jaw dropped. “You don’t skate?”

Aunt Hope shrugged. “How hard can it be? You hold me. I’ll hold you, and poof, we’re skating.”

“Ohhh-kay.” Charity grasped her aunt’s hand, and together they wobbled onto the ice. Taking a last look back at Daniel, she couldn’t help notice a familiar face approaching. Ivan. He seated himself on the bench beside Daniel.

“Uh-oh,” Hope murmured to Charity.

“Did you know Ivan was coming?”

“Not exactly. I’d kind of mentioned doing this. But it was before I broke it off with him.” Aunt Hope turned back toward the ice.

“Did you want to skate with him instead?” Charity asked.

“Nope.”

“Sure?”

Aunt Hope took her arm definitively. “I think I’d rather share this little first with you.” She led her forward, onto the ice.

Hand in hand, they slid, just one gawky stride at a time at first. Quickly, Charity made a discovery: it helped to raise her free arm to the side. She whirled it around a time or two to regain her balance. Staying upright on that slender blade sure was heart-pounding, but in a very good way. Who knew it would be such fun to chase away her fears and just do something that scared her? Aaron and Isaac would be so jealous when they heard. Bethany, too.

Before long, they were gliding along almost respectably, if Charity didn’t say so herself. If one started to slip, the other would help keep the two of them steady. With both of them working it out together, they were doing a lot better than she would have guessed, actually. They blended in with moms and dads, children, couples in love. There were even a few very talented skaters, jumping and spinning as they circled the rink.

Charity relished the crisp air on her face. It was pretty close to idyllic. This was Christmas in New York City. And in the secret place of her heart, she liked it.

“Whoa!” Aunt Hope shouted.

Charity snapped to attention. It couldn’t be, but it was.

A rambunctious teenager, skating upstream, was barreling straight toward them.

It happened so quickly, too quickly to get out of his way. Before she knew it, they were going down. The ice was hard and wet when they hit.

Skaters swerved around them. Charity bruised nothing but her pride, but as she started to sit up, she realized that Aunt Hope had fared worse. She was cradling her left wrist, wincing in pain.

Charity scanned the emergency room’s waiting area. Nearly every seat was filled. No sooner than one person left, another would arrive to fill the empty space. Finally, a spot opened up beside Daniel. Ivan slid into it. Daniel had offered Ivan his chair, but Ivan had insisted that Daniel and Charity should be seated first. She rubbed her hands across her skirt. Now that Ivan was right beside them, the pauses in conversation were all the more awkward.