A Simple Amish Christmas (15 page)

Samuel took another bite of the sandwich, waited.

“Youngest girl is expecting a child.”

The words hung between them, along with all of the questions and complications they brought. Though young single mothers weren’t unheard of in Amish communities, they were a rarity.

“Has she said who the father is?”

“Told her
mamm
he was an
Englischer
, someone passing through, and now he’s gone.”

Reaching for the lemonade Levi had brought, Samuel took a long drink. When he’d had his fill, he looked his bishop in the eye. He knew him to be a kind man, sometimes a strict leader—depending on what the situation demanded, but always compassionate.

“What would you have me do?” Samuel finally asked. “The girl needs prenatal care.”

“Her parents would like the situation kept quiet for now.”

“Belinda will be discreet.”

Levi shook his head. “You know that won’t work. Belinda is a fine midwife, but if her car starts going to their house twice a month, everyone will know why.”

Samuel stood, suddenly ready to be done with this day’s work. “People will know anyway, Levi. When the girl’s condition begins to show, and when the child is born.”

“
Ya
, and I said as much to the family. The girl, Sharon, is barely sixteen. She isn’t a member of the church yet, so there’s no need for a confession. I’ve counseled with her, and I’ll continue to do so. But you know her father—”

“Phillip is a
gut
man.”

“He is. He’s taking this hard, though. We need to give him time.”

“So you want me to go by and see her, instead of Belinda?”

“Someone should.”

Samuel looked across his barn, over to where Charity and Annie were collecting their things together. One of the teenage boys had joined them and was helping to pack the hamper Charity’s friend had brought. As the boy smiled and clowned, Samuel couldn’t help feeling something akin to a pain in his stomach.

Annie was closer to the lad’s age than his own.

She belonged with a boy her own age.

“So you’ll go by and see her?” The bishop pressed.

“I didn’t say I would, but I know someone who might be perfect for the job.”

Levi followed his gaze. “Annie Weaver?”

“
Ya.
She helped me birth Faith Blauch’s child the other night.” He hesitated, then pushed on. “I spoke to her about becoming Belinda’s apprentice.”

Levi tugged on his graying beard, then nodded. “It would be an excellent thing for our district. What did she say?”

“She didn’t, but I believe she’s considering the idea. Helping Sharon Smucker might move her in that direction. She certainly has the training to handle the prenatal visits, and I’ll see to it she has Belinda’s contact information in case she has any questions.”

“Are you sure Annie will do it?”

Samuel smiled, shook the older man’s hand, and walked him outside, toward his buggy.

“There’s not a lot I know about Annie Weaver, but I know she has trouble turning away a young one in need. She’ll say yes.”

The bishop climbed into his buggy, and Samuel made his way back into the barn. He knew the families behind him would begin filing back in toward the waiting room, knew he had another three hours of work ahead, but the idea of Annie by his side made the afternoon’s work less bleak.

His earlier thoughts of courting her had been impetuous, of course. He could see that now.

But there was nothing wrong with thinking of her as a colleague—the girl had proven herself to have a calm head on her shoulders and solid training to boot.

Sharon Smucker would be in capable hands.

15

 

T
he afternoon passed even more quickly than the morning. Samuel looked up from his notation book, expecting to see another patient, and instead his gaze traveled once, twice, three times across the empty stall.

Where was his next patient?

Wondering what the problem might be, and hearing no one, he went in search of Annie, or Charity, or the next person who had managed to find a new and creative way to blunder into a farming instrument.

The place remained eerily quiet. Perhaps the girls had run into some problem. Maybe someone needed help with a buggy.

Or it could be Annie and Charity had found his new litter of border collie pups. Following the sound of their murmured exclamations, he found them in the back corner of his barn, pouring all their attention on the hounds.

“Are you telling me there are no people who deserve your astute medical skills more than these dogs do?”

“The people have all gone, Samuel. We’re a fast team.” Annie glanced up and smiled, as a puppy attempted to lick
at her chin. “Why didn’t you tell me you had pups? They’re adorable.”

Both girls sat cross-legged in the area he’d partitioned for the mother and six pups. The hound looked relieved to have someone else looking after her brood for a few minutes. She made her way over to the water dish and began to lap at it, then walked to a patch of afternoon sunlight, stretched, circled twice, and curled up in a ball.

The pups were out of the girls’ laps in a split-second, falling over each other in their efforts to scamper across the stall and land on top of their mama.

“Imagine what Reba would do if she saw these,” Charity said, her voice rising in excitement.

“She’d try to hide one in her pocket no doubt.” Annie stood and began brushing straw off her dark blue dress. “How old are they?”

“Are they all spoken for?” Charity asked.

Samuel pulled at his beard, as if he were trying to remember. Both girls put their hands to their hips, and he began to laugh. “All right. As a matter of fact, I believe I might have an extra, if Reba is interested. Speak with her about them, and let me know what you all decide.”

Annie and Charity exchanged a knowing look.

“She’ll be interested all right,” Charity said as she walked out of the stall. “The question is whether
Mamm
will tolerate another four legs around the place or not.”

“We won’t be asking Reba though. The pup will make an excellent Christmas present.” Annie smiled up at him, and Samuel felt another piece of the ice around his heart melt and slide to the ground.

“Better than the scarf I’ve been knitting her,” Charity admitted with a shake of her head.

Annie laughed as they all studied the pups. “She’ll appreciate the scarf, but she’ll probably use it to wrap up the pup.”

“They’ll be fine cattle dogs.” Samuel ran his fingers through his beard. “I know your father is considering running dairy cows on the southern portion of his land.”

“Would be a
gut
spring project for Reba, training one.” Annie stooped down and ran her hand over the smallest pup, a black and white mix that had fallen fast asleep while the others nursed.

“I’m not sure Reba needs another project, but perhaps it would help her forget the rodents,” Charity conceded. “If we’re done here, I’ll go and ready Blaze.”

“Let me do that, Charity.” Samuel moved to stop her.

“Nonsense. I’ve done nothing the last hour. I need to stretch my legs.”

She’d walked out of sight before he could offer a
gut
argument.

“I appreciate you and your
schweschder
coming, Annie. Usually I’m not finished until near dark.” Samuel glanced out at the afternoon sun. “I’ll be able to put in a few hours of work still.”

“Or you could rest.” Annie’s voice landed somewhere between teasing and scolding. “You do rest, Samuel. Right? You do remember what it means to find other activities to occupy your time?”

“
Ya
, I believe I heard someone speak about it at our last Sunday meeting.”

She reached out and pushed at him playfully as she walked past.

He’d noticed that about her lately—the more comfortable she was around a person, the more she showed it with small touches.

Or maybe he was noticing because he’d been alone so long, but since Annie had returned he found himself seeking out her company. Being sociable seemed like a new thing to him, rather like wearing a new shirt. Part of him wanted to settle for what was old and comfortable, but another part couldn’t resist her.

When she did a small thing, like touching him as she walked by, it breached his aloneness. It wasn’t unpleasant at all, but it was startling.

This time, instead of letting her walk on by, he reached out and touched her arm, pulled her back into the shadow of the barn.

“There’s something I’d like to talk to you about, Annie. If you can wait a minute longer.”

 

Annie looked down at Samuel’s hand on her arm, heard the note of seriousness in his voice, and wondered what could possibly cause such a look of concern on his face.

The day had gone incredibly well, in her opinion.

Other than one young girl throwing up inside the waiting room, she couldn’t think of a single incident that she’d change.

“What is it?
Was iss letz?
” She pulled her
kapp
strings back behind her shoulders and hoped he wasn’t about to criticize her nursing. Now why would she worry about such a thing? He hadn’t criticized her since she’d first come home. It seemed so long ago now.

“Nothing’s wrong. Well, something is, but…” He pulled his straw hat off his head, then set it back down more firmly, causing his hair to stick out on the sides. “What I mean is, don’t have such a worried look. You’ve done nothing wrong,
Annie. I was being truthful when I said you were a real help to me today.”

He took a deep breath, looked to the pups, then continued. “I’d appreciate it if you’d consider coming back every Saturday when I have the medical side open. If you’re not busy, that is. Folks generally come the weekends we don’t have church meetings.”

“Of course I will. I’d like to very much.” A warm flush of embarrassment crept up her face at Samuel’s praise. Then she realized he’d again taken off his hat. She moved closer, gazed up into his face, and realized he wasn’t finished.

“That wasn’t what I wanted to talk to you about, though. Bishop Levi stopped by earlier.”

“I saw you eating lunch with him.”

“He came to tell me about a special situation. It’s a private matter, but a young girl in our district needs tending.”

Annie tilted her head, trying to better discern the meaning behind his words. He suddenly looked everywhere but at her—out at his fields, toward Charity and the buggy, even back toward the pups.

“A young girl?”

“
Ya.
Well, I don’t know why I feel awkward telling you this. I thought you would be the perfect person to check on her, but it’s a confidential matter. That is to say, the family isn’t ready to share with the congregation yet—”

Annie reached out and placed her hand on his arm. “Are you trying to say there’s a young girl expecting a child?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

“And she’s not married.”

“Correct.”

“I see.” Annie let her hand slip away as she walked over to the curtained exam area and began gathering her supplies. “Well, of course I’ll help, Samuel. But I haven’t decided yet
on what you asked me regarding the midwife apprenticeship. Belinda will be needing to see the girl.”

“
Ya.
I suggested to Bishop Levi that Belinda should see the girl, but he doesn’t think it’s a
gut
idea. He says Sharon’s father isn’t ready yet—”

Not realizing how close he was, Annie nearly knocked him over when she turned around quickly. “Sharon Smucker?”

“
Ya.
”

“She’s only Charity’s age.”

“I know. Bishop Levi says he’s meeting with the family, but they’d like to keep it quiet for a bit longer. I suggested you might be willing to go and do the prenatal visits for a while, in order to give the family a little time to adjust before everyone starts seeing Belinda’s car stop at their house.”

Annie picked up her quilted bag, walked out into the cold afternoon toward her buggy. She’d crossed half the distance when Samuel caught up with her. She suddenly needed the sun’s warmth on her face, needed to be free of others’ burdens for a little while.

When he caught up with her she stopped.

She felt him standing beside her, waiting, though they both knew there was nothing to wait for. There was no question as to whether she would help the girl.

“I’ll be
froh
to visit Sharon, Samuel. We both realize, however, there’s no keeping a baby secret.”

He made to interrupt her, but she stopped him. “Babies shouldn’t be secret, regardless the circumstances of their birth. I saw enough of such ways while I worked with the
Englischers
.”

She looked across the field. In a few months they’d be green with crops, and Sharon’s
boppli
would be born. “Not only does Sharon and the
boppli
need the love and support of her
freinden
, but our community needs Sharon and her baby. We’re one
family here, and it’s part of what makes us special. It’s part of what sets us apart.”

Then she turned and joined Charity in the buggy.

She thought he might follow her, ask her to explain herself, but he didn’t. He didn’t need to, and they both knew it. In his heart he knew what she said made sense. Perhaps he hadn’t had the time to think it through.

 

With all four grown children home, and Annie’s
dat
still sporting casts on both legs, it was necessary to take two buggies to Deborah Umble’s lunch the next day.

Often they stayed home on Sundays when there was no church meeting, but Deborah had invited them for a special Christmas celebration. Since the following weekend would be busy with church meetings on First Christmas, and family meals and gift-giving the day after, or Second Christmas as they called it, this would be their last chance to celebrate with friends.

Annie rode with Adam and Charity—leaving her mother to make sure Reba had no critters in her pockets. She’d volunteered to ride along and help with her
dat
, but Jacob had scowled and proceeded to lecture her as he clumsily worked his arm through his coat sleeve while leaning on his crutch.

“Won’t be needing any help of that sort this morning. Believe I’m about ready to be shy of your professional skills, Annie girl.” Then her father had bumped off, leaving her frowning at his back.

Adam pulled her toward his buggy as she started to remind him a second time to be careful. “Say another word, and he’ll insist on driving,” Adam cautioned.

“Why are men so stubborn?” Annie asked as Charity scooted over to make room for her.

“Don’t ask me.” Adam shut the buggy’s door and walked around to his side. “I wouldn’t know, since I’m the flexible, sensitive type of man.”

“Those weren’t exactly the words Leah used to describe you yesterday when mother ran into her at the store,” Charity teased.

“Mother spoke with Leah at the store?” Adam giddy-upped to the mare he had re-shod yesterday.

“
Ya
, and I believe she called you stubborn and bullheaded.” Charity elbowed Annie as she recounted the story.

“Leah told you he was stubborn?” Annie gave the question her best I’m-shocked-and-can’t-believe-it tone.

Adam gave them both his best you-must-be-kidding stare. When they simply smiled back sweetly, he took the bait.

“And what would my bride-to-be have been referring to when she called me stubborn?”

“I wouldn’t know for sure,” Charity admitted. “I was at Samuel’s all day, but according to
Mamm
, Leah seemed a bit upset.”

“Upset?”

“
Ya.
She asked
Mamm
to stay, and they had two cups of tea in the café. Sounds fairly distressed to me.”