A Simple Amish Christmas (5 page)

“But how did you—” Samuel flipped from the first page to the second, then glanced up at her.

Annie felt the heat rise in her cheeks. Fortunately, her father seemed oblivious to the exchange taking place between them.

“Actually, I wouldn’t mind a piece of your
mamm’s
bread if you’d like to send Adam in with it.” Jacob resumed his coughing but fought his way through it. “Now that I’m awake, I am rather hungry—another sign I’m healing faster than Doc Stoltzfus thought I would.”

Samuel let the pad rest against the bed and turned to stare at Annie. “I don’t understand.”

“Let’s step out into the living room.” She adjusted her
daed’s
covers, then turned and fled the room, trusting Samuel would follow. Once in the kitchen, she placed some bread and fruit on a separate plate. “Would you take this in to him for me, Adam? If you don’t mind, I think I’d like to take a five-minute break outside.”

“Sure thing, Annie.” Adam looked at her curiously, but accepted the plate.

David pretended to study the latest issue of
The Budget
.

Annie grabbed her coat and practically ran outside. She couldn’t talk to Samuel about her time with the
Englisch
in the kitchen—not with David and Adam there, not with her
dat
in the next room.

She wasn’t ashamed of what she’d done.

In many ways she was proud of her work in Philadelphia, but it was complicated. Her family had long practiced an attitude of grace toward
rumschpringe
, believing once the years of rebellion were over the less said about them the better. Adam had spent two years traveling away from Mifflin County, then he’d come home, joined the church, and was now engaged to Leah.

Everyone assumed Annie would do the same.

She would.

Wouldn’t she? Suddenly an image of the sick
kinner
at Mercy Hospital popped into her mind, and she wasn’t so sure.

The front door opened and Samuel followed her out into the bitter cold, still holding the tablet she had used for a chart.

She walked around the corner of the porch, where they’d be protected from the worst of the wind. He followed, stopping less than three feet from her.

“I suppose you have questions,” she said tentatively.

“I do.” His voice was flat and hard, like the road that led to her
dat’s
farm.

Annie pulled her coat tighter and nodded. “All right.”

Samuel’s dark eyes pierced hers. Even from a distance of three feet they reminded her again of the horse she had loved so as a child. Samuel remained cold and aloof, though. Why did the man have to be so disapproving of her instead of a help?

Didn’t she have enough to deal with these first few days of settling back into her old life?

Rather than ask her about the chart, he sank into the oak rocker, placed the tablet on the porch floor, and began massaging his temples.

He looked so tired, so vulnerable with his head bowed. Annie’s heart went out to him, and she again remembered the man had been through much these past eight years.

“Let’s start with the bandages,” he finally said.

Annie moved to the rocker across from him. “I know they were done perfectly.”

“That’s my question. You barely listened to a word I said, so how could you possibly change a bandage so professionally?”

Annie tried to meet his gaze, but she found herself glancing at the wall, then the porch railing, then the bare fields beyond.

Where should she start?

How much should she tell him?

How much did he need to know?

“And what about this?” Samuel picked up the tablet and shook it, leaning toward her. “What are these blood pressure notations?”

Reaching into her pocket, Annie pulled out her stethoscope. When she did, Samuel jerked away, as if the instrument were a snake that might coil and strike.

“It’s only a stethoscope.”

“Did you take that from my bag?” His voice held a tone of accusation, and his frown deepened even more.

It rankled on Annie’s nerves that he would accuse her. “Of course not. It’s mine.”

Samuel shook his head, still not comprehending.

“Look, does yours have this logo?” She pointed to the pink breast cancer symbol on the side, then the engraving. “Or my initials?”

“All right, so you have your own scope because…” His voice trailed off as he waited for her explanation.

He massaged his temples one last time, then drew himself up in a stiff posture. “I have chores to finish, and I don’t have time to spend guessing what’s going on here. Do you want to explain yourself or not?”

“As you know, I was with my cousins the last few years.”

“You were on your
rumschpringe
.” He didn’t say the word gently, but Annie chose to ignore what sounded like condemnation.

“Correct. While I was living with my
aenti
, I received some medical training.”

“How much?” His eyes glared into hers.

“Enough to know how to change bandages and take a person’s blood pressure.”

Samuel launched out of his chair and began pacing up and down the porch. “But you’re only a girl.”

“I am not. I’m twenty years old.”

“A girl with an eighth-grade education.”

“What are you saying, Samuel? That I’m not intelligent enough to understand how to conduct simple medical procedures?” Annie was up now and standing in his path.

“Do your parents know this?”

Once again his eyes stared down into hers, causing her stomach to tumble and turn. She ignored it and crossed her arms. “Not exactly.”

“It’s a yes or no question.”

“And it’s none of your business.”

He pushed his hat down more tightly on his head. “It is my business who is tending to Jacob. I count him as a very close friend, and I won’t be leaving him with you if you plan on taking off again when the urge hits.”

Annie fought to control the fury coursing through her veins. “Who cares for my
dat
is not your decision, Samuel. My
dat
is the one lying in there with two broken legs, and I will be the one taking care of him.”

She stepped closer, glared up into his face, and dared him to challenge her.

When he only clamped his jaw shut, she took one final step forward and he stepped back.

“Now if you find a single thing wrong with the way I care for him, I’d count it as a favor if you’d let me know. Until then, maybe it would be best if we stayed out of each other’s way.”

“Maybe it would.” Black eyes snapped at her, and she knew he was fighting against his temper.

Annie jerked her tablet from his hand and stomped to the door. Reaching it, she remembered there was one item she hadn’t set straight, so she turned back around—caught him staring blankly out over the fields.

“And for your information, Mr. Yoder, I am here to stay.” She fought to keep her voice low and even, knowing if she had to shout to make her point she wouldn’t prove a thing to him or to herself. “You needn’t worry about me running back to the
Englisch
or anywhere else for that matter. I’ll be here until my
dat’s
better. In fact, I’ll be here until he’s old and surrounded by more
grandkinner
than he can shake his old man’s cane at.”

Seeing his scowl deepen, she felt a small bit of satisfaction and turned back toward the front door of the house.

“For your information, the Amish view medicine differently than the
Englisch
do.” He was behind her before she realized it, his palm against the door, and his voice in her ear.

“But then you should know that, since you are Amish. You do remember what it means to be Amish, don’t you, Annie? Try to keep in mind you aren’t in the city anymore. Try to remember there lies a vast space between the knowledge you possess and what folks are willing to tolerate, what they’ll interrupt their workday for you to do. Takes maturity to know the difference between tending to someone and caring for them.”

And with those words in her ear, he turned and stormed off toward his buggy.

5

 

A
nnie battled and won the internal fight she insisted on waging with Samuel Yoder, but it took her another two days to do so. By that time she had fallen into a rhythm as steady and exhaustive as the winter weather outside the tight farmhouse.

She cared for her father all day, tending to as many of the household chores as she could when he napped. Once her
mamm
returned home each afternoon, she took a short walk outside—or in the barn if the temperatures were too cold. Grooming the new black mare worked out her restlessness from being confined inside all day.

“Do you like the name Blaze?” Reba asked. The girl would have been happy to spend the entire day in the barn, and she often went straight there when returning from school.

“I do,” Annie admitted, rubbing the white spot between the mare’s eyes. “It’s a perfect name for her.”

“I took her out yesterday. Let her run. You should see her, Annie. She’s fast—faster than
dat’s
old mare,” Reba’s voice caught and sputtered like the
Englischer’s
cars on cold mornings. “Not that I’m
froh
about what happened.”

“Of course you’re not, sweetie. God finds ways to bring blessing out of every tragedy. Perhaps Blaze is our blessing.”

Reba nodded, straight dark hair tumbling over her shoulder as she did.

“How are things at school?” Annie eyed her sister curiously. They’d had little time alone since she’d been home.

“I like it. I’ll be glad to be finished this year. All day I count the hours until I’m back here, back with the animals.” Reba’s voice became wistful, reminding Annie of the sound of the wind through the trees in the fall, when the leaves still whispered their song.

“If you’re to work with animals, God will find a way, Reba.”

“Do you think so?”

“I know so, but if we don’t both hurry back into the house, Charity will be out here looking for us.”

“With Charity, it’s like having two
mamms
around to boss you.”

Looping arms together, they walked back toward the house, and Annie was flooded again with the warmth of being home among her family and her people.

So why did a vague feeling of restlessness continue to disturb her?

What was still missing from her life?

She felt as if she should be grateful and content, but in those rare moments when she was honest with herself she realized she was not.

In order to ignore those moments, she threw herself more forcefully into the household work.

After helping with dinner, she again checked on her father, then sat with her sisters and mother, sewing or reading. Above all, she made sure she was away from the house if Samuel stopped by, which he had again on Friday.

She told herself she wasn’t avoiding him, but she turned down an invitation to go to town on Saturday. Instead, she
spent the morning in the barn, cleaning off the large, wooden nativity scene they’d created as children.

She paused only long enough to talk to the bishop when he came for a visit. They agreed she would be baptized into the church the following Sunday, since there would be no service the next day—it being their off week.

Annie was grateful she’d have a few more days to prepare. Not that the thought of being baptized and accepted into the church made her nervous; she actually was looking forward to it.

But the idea of Samuel watching?

Ach!
It made her scrub even harder with the soapy water, rubbing away on the large wooden cut-out figures.

“I believe the dust is all gone from that one,” Rebekah said, entering the barn and studying the silhouette of the virgin Mary.

“
Ya.
I suppose it’s clean enough.” Annie laughed at her own absentmindedness, then stood and helped her mother carry the four-foot carving out of the barn and place it among the other pieces.

“
Mamm.
Tell Reba to keep her mouse out of the infant’s cradle. It’s not proper.” Charity marched forward with an armful of straw and dumped it into said cradle.

Reba’s screech could have been mistaken for a mouse. “Careful, Charity.”

“He’s a mouse. He lives in straw, when he’s not in your pocket, which is disgusting, by the way.”

“Girls, you both helped build this nativity scene, when you were very young. Do you remember?” Rebekah’s question— calm, wistful, and tinged with only a touch of disappointment—was enough to stop Charity and Reba’s bickering.

Charity stepped closer to Reba, and Annie heard her ask, “He’s all right, isn’t he?”

“
Ya.
Only a little scared.”

“Maybe you should give him some of that cheese you carry around.”

The two girls turned and walked back into the barn to collect the last of the wise men.

“I remember when we made them,” Annie admitted. “Adam and I practically ran home from school the entire month of November that year.”

“Your
dat
had the idea. Charity was struggling with the concept of the virgin birth, and Reba was certain the infant Jesus had forced some poor animal to lose its dinner by sleeping in the trough.” Rebekah slipped her arm around Annie’s waist and walked with her back toward the house. “Jacob decided having you children build the nativity scene would help everyone understand the Christmas story a bit better.”

Annie waved to Jacob who was sitting on the porch, wrapped in blankets. “I’m glad he’s well enough to sit outside and watch. That’s nothing short of a miracle,
Mamm
.”

“Never doubt the Lord. He will take care of your
dat
, and he’ll take care of whatever’s bothering you too.”

Annie nodded and squeezed her mother’s hand, and her thoughts returned to Samuel.

 

Too often she found herself picturing his coal-black hair and haunting eyes—on rising each morning, while doing her chores, even as she slipped between the cold sheets each night. She did not have any trouble falling into a deep sleep, though. She’d discovered the key to forgetting Samuel’s caustic words and claiming a good night’s sleep.

All she needed to do was stay up as late as her mother each night and rise with Adam each morning. She dressed, then
prepared breakfast for her younger sisters so her mother would have a few moments to spend with her father.

By the time everyone left for work and school, she had been up three hours and was as wide-awake as the winter birds searching for food outside the window. Caring for her father was remarkably easy on her nursing skills—she’d never done a stint as a private nurse.

And it was remarkably hard on her patience.

As Samuel had predicted, there were many things her father grew less tolerant of the stronger he became.

 

“Annie, you checked my blood pressure not an hour ago. I can’t see as it would have gone up since you haven’t allowed me out of this bed.” Her father’s face took on the expression of their
Englisch
neighbor’s old bull—stubborn and ornery and looking for a fight.

“I explained to you last time, Samuel wants hourly notations so he can be sure the medication isn’t affecting you adversely.”

“There’s another thing I’d like to talk to him about. Why am I still taking the
Englischer’s
medicine? I don’t believe I need it. A
kind
could tell the infection has gone out of my leg.”

“In six days?” Annie snorted. “It’s better,
ya
, but not healed. As for your pestering, a child could see through it. You’re simply trying to find a way out to the barn.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“You’d be likely to re-break one or both your legs, that’s what’s wrong.” Annie sank onto the hardwood chair beside her father’s bed and studied him. The stern approach she used with the children at the hospital was not working with her
dat
.

Samuel’s parting words of caution still rang sharply in her ears, and the memory did not improve her mood this morning one bit. Surely she could outwit a crotchety old Amish farmer and a crotchety young one combined.

Standing up, she moved to the window and looked out over the snow-covered fields, toward the barn where she knew David was working. “Reba told me she’d taken the new mare out for a run.”

“The girl does have a way with animals.”

“She’s using the old lead rope, though. I’m a bit afraid it might break on her.”

“I had Adam buy new rope.” Jacob’s bored and petulant voice took on new interest.

“
Ya
, but did you show David how to properly weave the rope together into a lead halter?”

“ ’Course I did,” Jacob grumbled.

“I don’t mean to criticize him,” Annie turned back toward the bed. “He’s a fine young man—shows up for work on time every day, always has a pleasant word. Certainly isn’t his fault if he doesn’t know how to weave a lead rope.”

“I showed him how in this very room last week.”

“Mark my word, Blaze will break the old one. The thing really is in tatters.”

Jacob struggled to sit up straighter now. “That mare runs off, we won’t catch her before she reaches the next county.”

Annie studied him a minute, her finger tapping her chin. “I could sneak the rope in here, let you do it. I’d have to tell David it was some sort of physical therapy to start you moving.”

“Tell the lad whatever you want, but go fetch me the rope. I should have thought of it myself. Man’s hands aren’t useless when his legs are broken in a buggy accident. Now hurry and finish with Samuel’s medical contraptions, so as you don’t interrupt me later.”

Annie slipped the pressure cuff on, noted that her patient’s color and disposition had improved, then grabbed her scarf, coat, and gloves from the living room.

“I’ll be back in ten minutes. You’re sure that you’ll be okay alone?”

Her father waved her away as he studied the latest issue of
The Budget
, the same issue he’d read yesterday.

 

Scurrying through the snow to the barn, Annie found herself wishing she could escape across the field.

She loved nursing, loved everything about it.

But on days like today—when the sky was blue, the wind was low, and enough snow covered the ground to make things interesting, she could stand for a long walk across the hills.

“Annie, I don’t see you out here often.” David stood, brushed his hands on his pants.

She was still surprised to find she had to tilt her head a bit to look up at David. His hair was a light sandy brown, the color of wheat in the fall. His eyes, the same color, were gentle, usually laughing. He reminded her very much of the boy she’d known in school—only taller, much taller.

“I need your help, David.” Annie walked around the portion of the barn that served as a workroom. “My
dat
is becoming a bit restless.”

“
Ya.
I noticed his list of instructions grows longer the more he’d like to be out of his bed.” David chuckled good-naturedly.

Now here was a reasonable man with a reasonable temperament. Perhaps he could ride over to Samuel Yoder’s house and give him a lesson or two.