A Simple Amish Christmas (23 page)

She heard herself rambling as she followed him through the house to the kitchen.

What had she expected his home to look like?

A place that was all male, completely devoid of feminine touches?

A place that was a shrine to his
gschtarewe fraa
?

Samuel’s house was neither. Obviously, it was a man’s house, as some of the softer touches she noticed about her mother’s home were missing.

No basket of knitting sat by the chair.

No shawl hung on the peg by the door.

No smells of baking filled the air.

But neither was his house depressingly devoid of personality. Amish homes were by nature modestly decorated—counters without knickknacks or clutter, windows covered with shades rather than curtains, no proliferation of throw pillows on the couch.

Annie wouldn’t have expected those things, and she didn’t find them.

Samuel had kept the house freshly painted, though, and clean—which she would expect from a man in the medical profession.

“Does it meet your approval, Miss Weaver?”

“What?” She turned, found him standing in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room, watching her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to stare. It’s just that I’ve never been in your home, and you’ve been in mine so many times.”

“Is it what you expected?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know what I expected.”

“It’s only a house, Annie—walls and a roof. What matters is the people who live inside—that’s what makes a place a home. That’s what makes your parents’ place so welcoming.”

“
Ya
, I know what you’re saying is right.” She followed him into the kitchen, stood by the small table as he put the pie into the refrigerator. “When I stayed with my
aenti
, I never could get used to all the things she had lying around. Made me feel crowded.”

“I believe your experience there changed you—and for the better.” He closed the distance between them, touched her face. When he did, it seemed as if the sun had pierced through the window, warmed the room. “What I mean is, I think it made you appreciate things here more.”

“Maybe so.” She had trouble pushing the words out. She had trouble concentrating with his dark eyes staring into hers. “I know I think about home differently now.”

“And?”

Annie stepped away, moved back into the living room. “And I’m glad we don’t have all those knickknacks. Makes for a lot of dusting.”

Samuel laughed and followed her out onto the porch.

“We best go check on Reba,” he said. “Where are you girls headed next?”

“The Hooleys’, then
Onkel
Eli’s.”

“I had some wood I wanted to send to Eli. I think he could use it for the toys he makes. Would you mind taking it with you?”

“ ’Course not.” Annie also didn’t mind when he reached for her hand, closed his fingers around hers.

“I’ll bring the pup by this evening, before the Christmas presentation at the school. Would you like to ride with me this evening?”

“
Ya
, I would.
Danki
.”

They slowed their pace, still holding hands, as they moved toward the barn in the bright morning sunshine.

23

 

A
nnie delivered the pies from her mother to the Hooleys.

Next stop—
Onkel
Eli’s. He was thrilled with the pie, but his face glowed when he saw the maple wood.

She delivered Reba to the one-room schoolhouse. Then she drove the buggy home, arriving there well before noon.

And she began to grow restless.

She’d finished all of the laundry.

Every last present had been completed and wrapped—and though the stack was small by her
Englisch freinden
standards, she knew Second Christmas would bring smiles from her family.

Still, she had six hours to kill before she needed to be ready for tonight. How was she to occupy herself?

Why was she looking for ways to occupy herself?

She should be working. She should have a job.

She thought of scrubbing the floors one last time, but it would require changing out of her new dress, then changing back again for this evening. She picked up some darning her mother had begun, but each stitch she sewed somehow added to her impatience.

What to do?

Looking over at the basket beside her mother’s chair, she spied the baby blanket. Had she mentioned it was for Sharon Smucker? Yes, and when Annie had stopped by the store, she’d told her their visit had gone well.

She’d also said Sharon’s mother appeared calmer, and Mr. Smucker hadn’t hidden in the barn when she’d arrived. Perhaps it would be a
gut
time for her to go over and talk to them again about the midwife.

Annie hurried to the kitchen, set out a cold lunch for her
dat
and David, then grabbed her coat from the hook by the door and headed toward the barn.

A ride in the buggy might also temper the impatience in her soul.

Rehearsing how she might broach the subject of Belinda Strong with the Smucker family, Annie nearly ran right into David.

“Hello, David.”

“
Gudemariye.
” David smiled, pushed down on his straw hat.

“It’s nearly afternoon actually. How’s your work in the barn going?”

“Very well. I know your
dat
will be
froh
to be able to do more himself once the smaller cast is removed next week.”

Annie followed him into the barn. “I’m not sure what he’s told you, David. But because the cast is removed doesn’t mean he’ll be able to run this farm by himself right away.”

“
Ya
, he mentioned you would say as much.” David offered his usual smile and some of her anxiousness fell away. She’d noticed that around David it was impossible to feel
naerfich
.

“You always act as if everything is going to be all right.”

“It usually is, isn’t it?” Gentle eyes smiled at her as they entered the barn together.

“I suppose, but I tend to worry nonetheless.”

“Perhaps because you’re a caretaker, Annie. It’s
wunderbaar
the way you look after your father, and don’t worry about the farmwork. I’ll still be here half days for awhile. Your
mamm
has already talked to me about the spring planting schedule.”

Annie felt a burden she didn’t realize she’d been carrying lift off her shoulders as she reached for the old mare’s harness.

“I’ll be taking that for you.” David arms reached around her. “You need Ginger harnessed to the rig?”

Annie blushed slightly, but released the harness without argument. “I do. I wanted to go and visit one of our neighbors. Oh and I’ve set out lunch already in the kitchen.”

“I appreciate it, but your father and I could find lunch for ourselves if you’re too busy, Annie.”

“I’m not too busy.” She ran a hand over her father’s workbench. “Some days I barely know how to fill my time,” she continued, her voice taking on the tone of someone revealing something they’d rather not own up to.

David nodded. “We’re in those in-between years, when we don’t have our own place yet, an apprenticeship of sorts that isn’t as much work as real life will be. That’s how I like to think of it.”

Annie glanced up quickly. It was as if he’d been struggling with the very same things she had, but surely David was so busy he didn’t know which pasture he needed to till next.

“Your
dat’s
in the near pasture working on the gate latch. Why don’t you go and have a word with him while I tend to this?”

“
Danki.
”

“No need to thank me, but
gem gschehne
.”

Annie knew he meant rigging up the horse. She could have let the misunderstanding go, but something about his mild-mannered ways had calmed her this morning.

David had reached the barn door and pushed it open. Sunlight splashed into the work area, filling even the darkest corners.

She spoke anyway—knowing he would stop. “I meant to thank you for everything you’ve done for my family. Thank you for being here, for dividing your attention between your parents’ farm and my parents’. Mostly thank you for doing so in a considerate way.”

David tilted his head, and she had the thought his straw hat might fall off on to the ground.

He turned, moved back into the workroom. When he stopped beside her, she had to scrunch her neck to see up into his eyes. It struck her then how much he reminded her of Adam, and how her feelings for him mirrored those she felt for her
bruder
.

“It’s what we do, Annie. You know that—it’s what we’ve always done for one another.” He reached forward, swiped at some straw clinging to the sleeve of her dress. “You’d do the same for us.”

She nodded in agreement, almost stopped the words that wanted to push out. “Do you remember when you asked me to go for a buggy ride with you?”

“
Ya.
”

“I don’t know if you are aware of it, but I’m seeing Samuel now.”

“I know.”

“I wanted to say how much your friendship means to me, and how much I appreciate your kindness. You’ve been a
gut
friend to me since the day I came home.”

“I’m glad you’ve found someone, Annie. God has someone for each of us.” Grinning sheepishly, he added, “No one can have too many friends.”

As if that last thought explained it all, he turned to walk back outside. She started to walk out with him, but as she stepped forward her foot caught on the corner of the workbench.

She let out a squeak, and David turned, jumped to catch her as she fell into a bale of hay he’d been using to stack old rope on top of.

Annie grabbed at him, trying not to fall, but instead of steadying herself she succeeded in pulling David off balance. They both went down in one giant cloud of hay dust.

Seeing the look on David’s face, and the hay in his hair, Annie started laughing and couldn’t stop.

“It’s funny now,” David said, standing and brushing off his clothes. “We’ll see who’s laughing when the laundry has to be redone.”

He reached for her hand to pull her out of the hay when suddenly the light was blotted by someone standing in the doorway.

Annie’s hand went to her chest, her heart rate doubling. She must have made a sound, for David’s hand curled around hers and he pulled her to her feet, placed a steadying hand on her elbow.

“It’s only Samuel,” David said.

“You scared the breath out of me,” Annie sputtered. “I didn’t hear your buggy drive up.”

“Apparently you didn’t,” Samuel said in a voice colder than the morning frost.

Instead of stepping into the barn, he remained in the doorway.

Annie shielded her eyes but still couldn’t make out his expression with the sun blazing behind him.

“I’ll have the buggy ready for you in a few minutes, Annie. Unless you’d rather wait now.” David put a few steps between
them, and Annie had the most absurd idea he did it in order to put Samuel at ease.

“
Danki.
I’m not sure if I’ll be going right away or not—”

“Don’t change your plans for me.” Now a clear edge sharpened Samuel’s voice.

“Of course I can change my plans.” Annie stepped toward him, was finally able to make out the frozen expression on his face. “It’s just I wasn’t expecting you.”

“Obviously.”

Annie shook her head, as if she could clear it, could make sense of his mood or his words. “I don’t know what you mean. I don’t understand…”

She looked to David for an explanation, but he merely shrugged as he picked up the harness and carried it toward Ginger’s stall.

When she turned back toward Samuel, he was gone.

Gone? Where could he have possibly gone?

She hurried through the door and caught up with him as he opened the door to climb into his buggy.

 

Samuel didn’t know what he’d seen in the barn between Annie and David, and he sure didn’t want her explaining it. Not now.

He needed to go home, needed to get back to work, needed to get his life back on track.

“Samuel, where are you going?”

“I’m going back home.”

“But, why did you come by?”

He reached into the back of the buggy, pulled out the pup, and dropped it into her arms.

“I wanted to bring you this. I’m needed on the far side of the district to check on a sick family.”

“Would you like me to go with you?” Annie’s arms curled around the pup, and her eyes went from it to him, imploring him to explain, but he didn’t fall for her supposed confusion.

He knew what he’d witnessed.

He was a man of science after all, and facts were facts. He was man enough to face up to them.

“Samuel? Would you like me to come with you to help?”

“No, Annie. I wouldn’t.” He picked up the reins, stared out over Smokey’s ears, out past Jacob’s fields.

“
Was iss letz
? Why are you angry?”

He closed his eyes for a moment. What he wanted most was to go back in time, to go back four weeks and not allow his heart to unthaw. Then he wouldn’t be feeling this pain, and he wouldn’t have to explain to her what had happened, what he’d seen.

But he’d worked in medicine too long to allow something to fester—best to get it over and done with.

“I’m leaving because I saw how it is between you and David.”

“How… what?”

“Annie.” Suddenly he ached with fatigue, doubted whether he could drive the rig home. How had he thought he could find the energy to start over, to be the husband she would need?

“Come down out of the rig. Talk to me.”

He allowed his eyes to linger on her then. Though her voice had landed somewhere between anger and scolding, her bottom lip trembled and she pulled it in between her teeth and worried it as she waited.

“No. Don’t you see, Annie? David’s what you need. I knew that. Somewhere inside I suppose I’ve always known. Then when I walked into the barn and saw the two of you…”

“We were only talking.” She clenched her arms around the puppy at the same moment a single tear escaped from her right eye.

Both tore at his heart, but he knew he was right.

He couldn’t turn back now.

“
Ya
, but can’t you see? David is young like you are. David doesn’t have…” His hand went out in front of him, took in the fields that held no crops. “He doesn’t have the history I have. David and you have more in common than we do.”

“Don’t I have a say in this? Two nights ago you stood in the garden and asked me, you asked me if I’d like to have you come calling.”

“Well I’m un-asking now.”

“And I have no say in it?”

“You said it all with the way you were looking at him.”

“You’re being unfair. I don’t know what think you saw, but you’re wrong.”

He shook his head, gathered the reins more tightly in his hands. “No, I’m not. You need someone like David. You deserve him, and I deserve—”

He bit off the words even as the image of Rachel popped into his mind.

Why hadn’t he realized it earlier?

Of course, his duties lay in Ohio.

And it was the reason he hadn’t mailed the letter he’d written.

The reason it still sat on his desk at home.

Annie’s voice pulled him back. “You deserve who, Samuel? Look at me. I have a right to know.”

He considered not telling her but knew if he didn’t then she wouldn’t go on with her life.

David pulled Jacob’s mare, hitched to the buggy, out of the barn. He was a good man, David. He would be a good husband to her.

The best way to show Annie how much he cared about her would be to help her move on, help her move in the direction of what was best for her.

He could accomplish it by telling her about Rachel.

“Who do you deserve?” Her question was a whisper, a broken promise waiting to be heard.

“Mary’s
schweschder
has been asking me to move to Ohio. She has two small boys who need a
daed
.” He refused to look away until the weight of his words had sank in, had registered fully. “Her name is Rachel.”

Annie stepped back away from his buggy, hopped back—as if she’d been slapped. “You’ve never mentioned her before.”

“I know I haven’t. I didn’t want to move. Didn’t want to accept…” he swallowed, pushed the words out past the lump forming in his throat. “Didn’t want to acknowledge my obligations.”