Sarah's Christmas Miracle (14 page)

Actually, she didn’t know. Work remained constant within her limited experience. “Why are there so many abandoned houses in your neighborhood?” she asked.

“The real estate bubble—people buying homes they couldn’t afford to resell for quick profits. Then the bank financing dried up, and they were foreclosed on.”

Sarah chewed her lip. “Why would they buy homes they couldn’t pay for?”

“It’s hard to explain. Instead, tell me how you got here.” Cal refilled her coffee mug.

She recounted her trip on Greyhound and the Rapid Transit, including the incredible display on Public Square. “It looked very festive, but that many lights must cost a pretty penny in electricity. I saw plenty of better uses for the city’s money, like sidewalk shoveling.”

Cal scratched his ear. “Yeah, but the lights get folks in the mood for Christmas.”

“Everybody was rushing by so fast, I think I was the only one who appreciated the Nativity scene.”

“That’s not true. People come downtown just to see the displays. Your ten-minute crowd assessment isn’t fair.”

“That’s good to hear.”
Annoying my
bruder
is not why I came
. She rose from the couch and walked into the kitchen for milk to take the edge off the bitter coffee. But when she opened his refrigerator, a foul smell assailed her senses. “No milk, Cal?” she asked, trying not to gag.

“No. If I’d known about your visit, I would have gone shopping.” Cal leaned around her to shut the door with his elbow.

Sarah faced him. “You have practically no food whatsoever. And I noticed you’ve lost weight.” The emaciated state of both the apartment and her brother had set off alarms in her head.
How long has he been out of work?

“I told you I hadn’t gone grocery shopping.”

She crossed her arms. “But I see you have a six-pack of beer in there.”

Cal reared back. “I didn’t buy that, Sarah. Why have you come—to criticize me or pass judgment on my life? I’m not Amish anymore, in case you haven’t noticed.”

Sarah walked back to the living room radiator. “Are you anything at all? I mean, do you attend church up here?” She attempted to sound conversational.

He exhaled through his teeth, exasperated. “No, little sister, I don’t go to church. God seems to have forgotten me.”

Time and silence spun out in the room. Then quietly she said, “Maybe it’s you who have forgotten God.”

Emotions of anger, sorrow, and finally resignation crossed his face in succession. “Whatever you say. Are you hungry? I have pizza that’s still good. A friend brought it over today. Let’s have it for supper.”

“Jah, danki,”
she said, wondering if he’d heard her stomach rumbling.

Cal carried a pizza box, two Cokes, and paper napkins to a wobbly kitchen table.

Sarah ate two slices, trying not to pepper him with questions.

But Cal had his own questions once they finished eating. “What do you want? I know you came for a reason.”

She blushed to the roots of her damp hair. “I want to know why you left Wayne County. It’s important to me because I’m thinking of getting married and having kids someday.”

He stared out the window at the falling snow and chose his words carefully. “It was all about money,” he said. “I couldn’t believe how much union carpenters got paid. They drove trucks loaded with every gadget and could eat in restaurants every single day. I thought I’d try life as an
Englischer
for a while…just to get it out of my system before I settled down. I always thought I’d come home after a year or two.” He glanced at her with tired, dark-ringed eyes.

“So why didn’t you, especially after the good-paying work dried up?” She reached for his hand, but he pulled away.

“Because things happen, Sarah, things you know nothing about. They have made going home impossible.”

“Nothing should separate you from your family, not if—”

“Oh, really?” he interrupted. “And what do you think
daed
would say about this?” He rolled up his shirtsleeve to reveal a large colorful tattoo on his bicep. It was a heart entwined with snakes surrounding a woman’s name.

She gasped involuntarily.

“That’s not all. Once I got drunk on a Saturday night and woke up in a stranger’s…home. And I’ve wasted more money in a month on foolishness than
daed
earns in a year.”

“Oh, Caleb.” Sarah’s eyes filled with tears.

“I don’t want your pity. I’ve made my choices, and I will live with the consequences.” He stood. “I’ve answered your questions, and you have what you came for. Tomorrow I’ll take you back to the bus depot. There’s nothing more for you here, little sister.”

He looked so angry, she felt fortunate he didn’t turn her out on the street. “
Danki
for letting me stay the night.”

Perhaps it was her use of a
Deutsch
word, but his expression turned sad. He looked far older than his twenty-four years. “You take my bedroom and I’ll sleep on the couch. There are clean sheets in the trunk next to the bed.”

When she tried to protest, he held up his hand. “No arguing, Sarah. Go to bed. You must be exhausted from your trip, and you’ve worn me out with your questions.” He lumbered into the bathroom and shut the door.

Sarah gathered her outer garments into a bundle and found his bedroom. After praying for an hour, sleep finally came in fits and starts. Traffic noise, barking dogs, ringing phones, and the drone of an overhead TV intruded on her dreams in bizarre fashion. When she awoke the next morning, bleary-eyed and stiff from a saggy mattress, she found Caleb clean-shaven and sipping coffee at the table. A fresh quart of milk sat next to a bag of bagels.

“Good morning. Eat some breakfast, and then you can take a shower if you like. My friend Pete will pick us up at eleven and drive us downtown during his lunch hour.”

Sarah poured coffee, desperate for a way to spend more time with him. “Could you please show me Lake Erie before I go home, since I’ve come so far?”

He smiled, slowly at first. “I guess we could swing by Edge-water Park on the way.”

“And the West Side Market and the Cleveland Zoo and the Museum of Art?” She broke a bagel in half and began eating.

His eyes grew round, and then he burst out laughing. “No time for the zoo because it’s way too big, and the museum’s on the other side of town. But we can have lunch at the West Side Market.”

Cal Beachy was a man of his word. Sarah walked the deserted beach with her
bruder
and his friend, chasing seagulls that landed in their path. She filled her lungs with clean air and tried her best to see Canada across the water. The peace and calm from the sound of waves soothed her soul. She fell in love with the beach, even in the middle of winter. At the West Side Market, Caleb hurried her past the indoor and outdoor booths. She would have loved spending time at the international food vendors, but Cal bought three bratwurst sandwiches and herded her back to the vehicle.

All too soon they arrived downtown and pulled up in front of the bus station. Cal asked Pete to wait in the truck with the engine running while he walked Sarah inside the terminal. Before she could think of another reason to delay, Caleb kissed her on the forehead, put her on the bus bound for Akron, and walked out of her life…again.

Sarah felt the pain of loss all the way home, realizing this was what her
mamm
felt many times over.

T
HIRTEEN

A
dam glanced at the wall clock again, unable to keep his mind on his work. He replayed his last conversation with Sarah over and over in his head until he found himself changing the words to those he should have said. He had no business being short tempered with her. She had a right to visit her brother if she wanted. He just wished Caleb lived down the road instead of in a big city filled with temptation.

Whatever Caleb had seen and done in Cleveland had made him choose to stay. He’d turned his back on his family, his faith, and the Amish lifestyle for ease and comfort. He would probably give up his right arm before relinquishing his car or truck. Moonlit buggy rides down shady lanes or hiking through a newly mown pasture at dawn couldn’t compare with fancy restaurants, shopping malls, and golf courses. But Caleb Beachy wasn’t his concern…Sarah Beachy was.

Would she too fall in love with a culture of few rules and no expectations? Without her
daed
, the bishop, and him watching over her shoulder, she would be free to cut her hair, paint her face, and dress in the latest styles. Because Caleb earned lots of money, she could stay with him until she found employment. Cities were filled with bed-and-breakfasts, small inns, and big hotels. With her experience, she would have her pick of jobs.

Pressure built within Adam’s chest until his breath came in short gasps. He was certain he was losing Sarah to a world he didn’t understand…and didn’t want to. And he had no one to blame but himself. Love was the one thing that kept their Plain culture and community vibrant and strong—love between a parent and child, between siblings, and between an Amish Christian and God. God was easier to obey and His Word easier to follow in their rural society. How difficult it must be for urban Christians to stay on course without reminders of Him in each misty meadow or snow-covered hill.

Then there is the love between a man and a woman
.

If he’d loved Sarah enough and had revealed his deep passion, maybe she wouldn’t have been so quick to leave. Her ambivalence to wedding talk, her reluctance to get baptized, and her disinterest in planning a future with him spoke louder than an English billboard painted on a red barn. His stubborn pride had kept him from facing reality—Sarah didn’t love him. If she did, he wouldn’t have been so easy to leave. He’d been a fool, strung along by a woman either too afraid or too kind to hurt his feelings. Either way, Adam knew he faced a lonely Christmas. And the prospect of starting over to find a wife chilled him more than the frozen fields he gazed across. He would rather spend his life alone than fall for another woman unable to return his love.

Adam mulled over his troubles all the way home. Fortunately, his smart horse had kept track of the route while he’d been distracted. He rewarded the gelding with a fifteen-minute rubdown, three carrots, and a bucket of oats. When he entered the house’s dark back hallway, he tripped over something on the rug. He sprawled forward, banging his head on the doorjamb before catching his balance. “Tarnation!” he muttered to himself. “Who left this pair of skates in the middle of the hall?” He’d assumed he was alone in this part of the house or he would have controlled his temper.

He had been mistaken.

“
Mir leid
, Uncle Adam.” His favorite nephew crept out from behind the door to gather up the skates. “I forgot I’d left them there to dry.”

Adam ducked his head. “It’s all right, Joshua. Put them in the closet out of the way.” As the child scampered off with the skates, Adam limped into the kitchen, rubbing the growing knot on his forehead.

“Oh, boy, you’ll probably have a shiner,” said his sister. Amanda lit the kerosene lamp with a kitchen match.

“I missed the eye. Just cracked my head.” He slumped into a chair.

“’Tis a blessing then. Your head can take a few hard knocks.” Despite her teasing, she wrapped a cloth around some ice cubes and gently placed it on the lump.

“
Danki
,” he said, taking the ice bag from her. “Where is everybody?”

“Gone off in different directions. You’re late.”

“Had to finish staining a walnut dining table. Why are
you
still here?” Amanda was usually the first one out of the kitchen.

“I told
mamm
I’d reheat your supper since I thought you might need somebody to talk to.”

Suspicion lifted the hairs on the back of his neck. “And what would I want to talk about?”

Amanda met his gaze without blinking. “About Sarah going to Cleveland, of course.”

He ran a hand through his hair, groaning. “How in the world…”

“Rebekah stopped by this afternoon. She said you were mighty upset about Sarah’s trip.” She lifted a plate of meatloaf, potatoes, and yellow beans from the oven and placed it before him.