A Simple Amish Christmas (14 page)

In fact, she was guilty of the very same things she had been angry with Samuel about. She had neglected to notice Charity had grown up, exactly as Samuel had refused to acknowledge that she was no longer a young girl.

Charity clucked to Blaze, who moved out at a much steadier pace.

“How do you like working at the store with
Mamm
?”

“I don’t mind it.” Charity shrugged, then glanced at Annie curiously as if to determine what lurked behind the line of questioning.

“Which isn’t the same as liking what you do every day.” “Didn’t say I like it, said I don’t mind it.” Charity jerked on the reins when Blaze made to break into a faster trot.

“So would you like a different job?”

“No. I suspect any other job would be the same to me.”

“I don’t understand.” Annie cornered herself in the buggy and studied her
schweschder
, now thoroughly curious.

“What’s there to understand?” Charity looked at her with such an open expression that Annie immediately thought of her
bruder
. With Adam things were usually quite simple. Perhaps life was the same for Charity.

“What do you like about working in the store?”

“I need to work somewhere, and the store is interesting enough. I enjoy seeing different people every day, and the hours pass quickly.”

“All right. And what don’t you like about it?”

Charity reached up and adjusted her
kapp
. “I don’t especially like being cooped up in one place all day long.” She started to say more, but stopped herself, blushed slightly.

“What is it? What were you about to say?”

“You’ll say I’m too young.”

“Of course I won’t. I was just thinking how you’re no longer a girl. I hadn’t realized how grown you’ve become.”

Charity seemed to consider her confession as she focused on Blaze for a few seconds. “When the girls your age come in to the store, with their little
bopplin
or expecting one soon, then I know what I want to do.”

“You mean—”

“
Ya
, that’s exactly what I mean. And I know it’s different for you. Because you have your nursing you love to do. I want a home of my own, though. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.” She settled back against the buggy seat, her voice losing some of its confidence. “I suppose I sound
gegisch
.”

“You don’t sound
gegisch
at all, Charity. Is there a special boy you have your eye on?”

“No. Of course not. You’d know if I was seeing someone.”

“Is there someone you want to be seeing?” Annie tried to think back over the days since she’d been home. Had there been anyone her sister had paid special attention to?

“There isn’t, but I have a lot of fun watching you and David.”

“Charity Weaver.”

“And you and Samuel.”

“You’re being ridiculous.” Annie suddenly needed to push the blanket off her lap as heat flooded her cheeks.

“I don’t know if I’m ready yet, but when I watch you, I think I want to be ready.” Charity seemed oblivious to how embarrassed Annie had become. “And when I watch Adam and Leah, I know their relationship is the kind I want. I think it’s worth waiting for too. Don’t you?”

They were nearing Samuel’s land, but Charity turned to Annie now, studied her, waited for her reply.

“
Ya
, I do think it’s worth waiting for.”

“I see how much Adam and Leah care for one another, see how they’re willing to wait until the marrying season, wait until their home is ready and they can be together, and I know I can wait until the right person comes along.”

Annie nodded, suddenly humbled by her little sister’s wisdom.

Unfortunately, Blaze chose that moment to show off for the other horses. Throwing her head, she sidestepped, then attempted to speed toward Samuel’s barn.

Charity took the reins firmly in hand, growled out a command that was incomprehensible to Annie, and saw them safely to the hitching post.

But not before more than a few of the neighbors had turned to stare at the Weaver girls.

14

 

T
hough outside, the day remained briskly cold, warmth and people filled the inside of Samuel’s barn as sunlight filled the day. In Samuel’s work area, his potbellied stove heated what served as the waiting area.

But the activity of the thirty or so people gathered and the sun shining through the loft windows warmed even the stalls where he and Annie saw patients.

And they did see patients.

Working beside Samuel during the day, in the barn, was a completely new experience for Annie.

For one thing they were surrounded by people she’d known all her life.

For another, Charity kept popping in with bizarre questions and a teasing look in her eye.

“Should I separate the patients who are vomiting from the ones who aren’t?”

“Are you two willing to look at a sick bird?”

And Annie’s favorite, “This young man would like to bring his sheep with him into stall three. Should I allow it?”

The young man she referred to was four years old, and he had no intention of letting go of the sheep he’d turned into a pet—a sheep he referred to as Stank.

Charity was the one to discover that the boy didn’t cry a bit as long as his right hand remained buried in Stank’s somewhat foul-smelling wool. The boy, Luke, had clean rags completely swathed around his left hand.

“I’m so sorry.” The young mother hurried over to where the boy stood with his sheep. She straightened the straw hat on the boy’s head, explaining as she did so, “We have a large flock of sheep. For some reason Luke attached himself to this one. Every time I turn around he’s out in that old pen with this sheep. I can’t seem to keep him away from the animal.”

“What’s wrong with your hand, Luke?” Samuel knelt down next to Luke, since there would be no picking the animal up and setting him on the bench.

Annie stepped back as she watched Luke tilt his head. With wide, innocent blue eyes he carefully considered Samuel. After giving Stank’s wool a final comforting tug, he touched his hurt hand with his well one. “Tripped while I was following my sheep. Bumped it against a nail.”

Luke’s frown became a smile as he remembered the most important part of his story. “Stank licked it for me, though, and
Mamm
bandaged it up.”

The hand was bandaged to twice its normal size, so that it looked as if the boy wore a baseball mitt made of gauze. Annie was relieved to see that Luke could still move his arm well, which meant infection hadn’t moved up his arm. He also didn’t appear to have any fever.

Samuel’s gaze traveled from the boy to the animal then back again. “Stank’s a fine pet to take care of you, Luke.”

“
Ya.
”

“And your
mamm
was smart to wrap it up.”

The boy nodded, threading the fingers of his good hand back through Stank’s wool.

“I need to unwrap the bandages, though, to take a look. Miss Annie’s going to help me. Is that all right with you and Stank?”

Luke obviously wasn’t happy with the arrangement, but his
mamm
cleared her throat, and he nodded his agreement.

Annie had clean bandages and disinfectant at Samuel’s side before he had the hand unwrapped. The wound wasn’t as bad as she feared, but it was definitely a puncture wound.

“Do you think it was a nail?” Samuel asked his mother.

“Probably. There’s quite a bit of old lumber out that way. John has it all stacked and the nails out of it, but he might have missed one.”

“You did a fine job cleaning it, Martha.” Samuel swiped the wound again with disinfectant as Annie popped a sucker in Luke’s mouth. “I’m afraid he is going to need a tetanus shot, though, and I’m not allowed to give those. You need to take him on to see Doc Stoltzfus.”

Annie had the hand rebandaged by the time Samuel had written a note to the doctor.

“Give this to him. I don’t think they’ll need to reclean the wound, but I want Luke to have the tetanus shot today. It’s valid for ten years, and I imagine Mr. Luke will be finding more rusty things to trip over by the time he’s fourteen.”

“
Ya
, I can hardly keep him in the house at all—even in the winter.
Danki
, Samuel.
Danki
, Annie.”

“
Gem gschehne
,” they both said, then smiled at each other as the words came out in near harmony.

There wasn’t much time to dwell on the moment, though.

The morning had barely begun, and already every bench was filled with mothers and children. Men willing to brave the
cold stood out in the yard, in the winter sunshine, talking of spring and crops.

It did not remind Annie of emergency room work—there was none of the violence and desperation she’d seen there. Instead, she kept thinking back to the six-week rotation she’d done with a general practitioner. The work had actually fascinated her.

This was very much like that old gentleman’s office. As the sun warmed the barn to a comfortable temperature, and the snow on the trees began to melt and drip, they saw all manner of patients.

Old Mrs. Wagler presented with bowel problems. Samuel sat down, listened to her for five minutes, and had her lie on their one makeshift table so he could check her abdomen. After questioning her closely to be sure there’d been no blood in her bowels, he then asked her about her diet. Finally, she admitted that she’d had no green vegetables all winter, since her husband had passed. Her children had long ago moved to Ohio, and she’d put off following them there.

“Each year they visit, and each year they ask me to come, but I like it here, Samuel.”

“Mrs. Wagler, I know your neighbors would be
froh
to bring you some of the vegetables they have put up for winter.”

“Don’t like the way they taste when they’re not fresh.”

“But your body needs them. I want you to start eating greens once a day, walk out to check on your spring plantings every morning—”

“They won’t be up for another four months.”

“I know they won’t, but I want you to check on them nonetheless. I also want you to take a teaspoonful of this oil. One teaspoon per day.”

He helped her off the table, and handed her the bottle of oil and the paper Annie had scribbled on. “Annie’s written down
everything I said. Follow those instructions, and come see me in two weeks if you’re not feeling any better.”

It continued in the same vein all morning.

They saw a half dozen people with the flu, all of whom Charity had managed to keep away from other folks who were waiting.

The owner of the livery stable in town had an ingrown nail so infected he could no longer put his shoe on. Samuel cut it out, disinfected it, and bandaged it up.

“Don’t wait so long next time, Mark.” Samuel shook the man’s hand as he limped out toward his buggy.

“
Ya.
I meant to come in, but things have been busy this month.”

“They’ll be busier if you can’t walk. Then you’ll have to hire a few boys to do all your work.”

Mark pushed his hat onto his head. “Wouldn’t think a toe could cause so much trouble,” he grumbled.

Annie was setting out clean tools when Samuel tugged on her hand. She looked up, startled at the touch of his fingers against her skin.

“Time for a break, Nurse Annie.”

“But we’re not done.”

“Check the waiting room.”

Annie stuck her head out of the stall and saw the area they’d set up with benches was miraculously empty. “Where’d they go? I counted six people waiting a few minutes ago. Lydia was here to have her stitches removed, and little baby Amos has a cold—”

“Stop.”

“Stop?”

Samuel put both hands on her shoulders, and she feared she might melt right there—become a puddle in the middle of his barn. Why did his touch have such a strong effect on
her? Before she could figure it out, he marched her to the door separating the work area from the larger part of the barn.

“Stop. It’s lunchtime. Look,” his voice whispered gently in her ear. “Everyone else has figured it out. Everyone but Miss Annie.”

She turned then, pivoted in his arms so she could see his expression. “Oh, but we didn’t… That is, I was so focused on bringing my things, I didn’t think to bring—”

“Annie. Over here.” Charity’s voice broke through the cloud of confusion that had settled around her. Spinning again, she spied her sister sitting with one of the girls who worked with her at the store, on some crates stacked neatly under one of the barn’s windows. Between them they’d set out the fixings of a thrown-together lunch.

Though most still wore their coats, sunlight poured down on them. Other families had similarly set up picnic areas.

Annie’s stomach growled.

“Sounds like your
schweschder
has it covered.” Samuel smiled broadly, angled her in the direction of Charity, then pushed her gently out of the workroom.

 

He’d had the oddest urge to kiss her on the little button of a nose that she’d turned up to him, which would of course have been entirely inappropriate. He stuck both of his hands in his pockets instead.

He watched her walk out into the larger room, then stepped back into the shadow of the workroom and took a deep breath, forced his heart rate back into a normal rhythm.

Samuel Yoder, confirmed bachelor and cranky old bear, was attracted to Annie Weaver. The truth hit him hard. What had happened?

When had it happened?

How had it happened?

His mind immediately thought of Mary, and he walked back to the examining stall, began tidying it, though everything lay in tip-top shape.

Mary. She would have wanted him to find another, would have expected him to move on with his life. It was the Amish way, what they were taught from a very young age—to give themselves up to whatever happened, accept all things as God’s will.

But was what happened that December night God’s will?

Or was it merely his mistake?

After eight years he still couldn’t say. But even if he had been able to say, the point was an irrelevant one.

He straightened the last of the medical supplies, already in a row, and turned back to the main portion of his barn.

Truthfully, in the last eight years he hadn’t been attracted to any other woman, and the letters he’d received from Rachel… Well, they had hardly sparked any feelings of attraction. They had inspired only guilt. While he cared for Mary’s sister and wished her well, he had certainly never thought of her in any terms other than as a sister. Was that why her recent letters made him uncomfortable?

He could read between the lines to understand her meaning, but it hadn’t been something he’d acknowledged, even to himself, until this moment.

Now it seemed as if he had awakened from a very long sleep.

Mary.

Little Annie Weaver.

They had been the only two women who stirred this place in his heart the same way a new dawn over his fields stirred his soul.

Running his fingers through his beard, he walked slowly out into the main portion of his barn. Perhaps some lunch would settle the ideas tumbling through his head.

He certainly needed to think more clearly.

Annie Weaver! She was ten years his junior, and she was his closest friend’s daughter.

Blood pumped through his veins, causing him to feel as if he’d just run beside a buggy. Sweat trickled down the back of his neck, warm despite the coolness of the day. Samuel stepped over to the sink and began vigorously washing his hands. Ice-cold water poured into the basin as he scrubbed his hands, then splashed the water on his face.

“You cleaning up or taking a bath?”

Reaching for a hand towel, Samuel stopped at the sound of Bishop Levi’s voice, turned, and nearly bumped into the older man.

“Levi, I didn’t see you.”

“Probably because I just arrived. You also seemed a bit distracted.” Levi nodded at the water still pouring into the basin.

Samuel reached forward and turned off the faucet. When he’d finished drying his hands, he hung up the hand towel on a peg next to the sink. “
Ya
, I suppose I was. It’s been a busy morning.”

“So it seems by the number of buggies in your yard. You have quite a few people here.” Levi smiled broadly, then rattled the brown paper bag in his hand. “I brought some lunch if you have time to take a few minutes and eat.”

“I was washing up and headed inside to fix a quick meal. Looks like you saved me the trouble. What brings you so far out of town?”

“I needed to visit a few families, and I hoped to stop by and have a word with you. Knew it would be a busy day being third Saturday and all—so lunch would be my best chance.”

Samuel led him over to an empty bench. “It’s a
gut
plan, but I would have made time to see you without the food.”

He accepted the sandwich Levi handed him, bit into the rye bread and pastrami, and closed his eyes as he savored the flavors. The rich meat and fresh bread tasted heavenly. He hadn’t realized how much of an appetite he’d worked up.

“We have a situation over at the Smucker home,” Levi said.