The Beginning, page 13
“Or you could simply relax a bit this year, dear.”
“Actually, it’s harder not to keep busy.” Susie smiled. “You, on the other hand, can sit and rock Nellie Ann. That’d help Polly out.”
Mamma looked wistful. “It’ll be our first Christmas without Allen and Sarah and their children,” she said, eyes glistening.
Susie rinsed her hands and dried them, then went over to sit with Mamma. “We’ll have a nice time with Polly and her family. And we can always call Allen and Sarah, if it’s not too cold for ya out in the stable,” she said, trying to brighten her mother’s spirits.
Sitting there, reminiscing about former Christmases, Susie was glad she’d stayed home tonight since Mamma seemed a little blue.
Dat would want me here tonight with Mamma, if he knew. His heart was always soft toward her, thought Susie.
———
An hour or so later, Susie heard a knock at the front door. Unusual as it was, Mamma wondered aloud if this might be an “unexpected surprise.”
Susie opened the door, and there, standing in short rows across the porch, was a bundled-up group of a dozen or so Amish teens, including, in the front, a smiling Britta and Hazel. Immediately, their voices began to ring out in song, and Mamma slipped quietly to the window to watch and listen as Susie stood at the front door.
The jubilant melody of “Joy to the World” filled the porch, and Susie and Mamma sang along in English with the verses and the chorus.
“When they’re done caroling,” Mamma said, “invite them in for cookies.”
Susie agreed, thankful she and Britta had made extra cookies and chocolate nut bars for tomorrow and the days following, when Mamma’s siblings and families would be dropping in for the holidays. The house would be crowded with all the youth, but having them come by and sing so cheerfully was truly the nicest surprise for Mamma.
As the carolers continued, Susie’s thoughts wended their way to Obie, and she wondered what he was doing tonight. She remembered how he’d pressed his Christmas card into her hand at the school program, and she wished she’d had one to give him.
There’s still time, she thought, deciding to make one later tonight and hand carry it to him before he left for Sugar Valley.
CHAPTER
20
Christmas Sunday brought an abundance of cheer to Britta, who always looked forward to going to Preaching, particularly on a special Lord’s Day such as this. Here lately, she had been thinking ahead to one day being baptized and joining church.
What kind of church would I be joining if I hadn’t lived in Hickory Hollow? she wondered, not sure why she was pondering all of this. Where would I be living right now if my mother hadn’t given me up?
Back home, while she milked the goats that afternoon, she hummed a few of the carols she’d sung last evening with Hazel and the others. The cat trio wandered over, and two of them curled up near the legs of her wooden stool. “It’s a happy Christmas Day, don’t you think?” she said softly, looking down at the purring felines. Even Tabasco warmed up to her more quickly than usual.
When she finished the milking, the stable phone rang, and it was Hazel calling.
“How’d you know I’d even answer?” Britta asked, surprised.
“You’ve mentioned the four-thirty milking before—thought I’d take a chance,” Hazel said. “Plus, I wanted to talk to you: Guess who just came by to see Obie.”
“Susie, maybe?” Britta smiled that Hazel would call about this.
“Jah, but she wasn’t here for long. Even so, they did see each other on Christmas,” Hazel said, a lilt in her voice. “It’s a gut sign, don’t ya think?”
“So that’s where she went.” Britta glanced over her shoulder to make sure she was still alone in the stable. “Glad to hear it.”
They talked a while longer, but Britta could scarcely keep her mind off her sister’s errand—one she certainly hadn’t mentioned. And when Britta hung up the phone, she could hardly keep from grinning. It was practically a gift just knowing Susie had seen Obie again.
Not even a half hour later, Britta heard Susie returning in the family buggy. Eager to talk to her but also not wanting to let on that she knew where Susie had gone, Britta stood by the back door of the house, waiting while her sister unhitched Atta-Girl and then led the mare to the stable.
This being Christmas night, she wanted to spend time with Susie, since Mamma had already gone to her room to unwind from the busy day and be ready for visitors in the morning. Britta felt surprisingly alone and hoped Susie might oblige her.
“Your cheeks sure are red,” Britta said, offering to pour Susie some hot cocoa when she came into the kitchen.
“I’ll get warmed up right quick.” Susie made a beeline to the stove in the corner. There, she stood with her back to it. “Hazel says hullo, by the way.”
Britta smiled. “You didn’t go to see her, though, did ya?”
Shaking her head, Susie laughed. “I took a Christmas card over to Obie.”
“Handmade?” Britta pulled up Mamma’s rocking chair closer to the heat, enjoying this.
“Of course.” She described the pretty candle and the wreath around it that she’d drawn. “It was nothin’ like the card he gave me, but it was the best I could do.”
“I’m sure Obie was glad to receive anything from you.”
“Ain’t so sure ’bout that,” Susie surprised her by saying.
Britta frowned, hoping she might reveal more.
She looked down at her hands. “He didn’t have much time to visit. And I’m not sure we’ll get another chance, since his boss wants him back at work Thursday morning. So Obie’s makin’ the trip back in a few days.”
“But his boss is his uncle, ain’t so?”
Susie looked more miserable than Britta had ever seen her. “Jah,” she said. “Evidently Obie’s quite fond of his work . . . and of Sugar Valley, too.”
Britta wanted to say how sorry she was but sat there rocking, glad her sister had trusted her with this understandable sadness.
The following day, Polly and Henry and their children arrived midmorning for Second Christmas, bringing small wrapped presents for Mamma, Susie, and Britta, as well as oodles of food.
Little Joey was dressed in his black church outfit with its white long-sleeved shirt and narrow black suspenders. The toddler jabbered constantly as he followed Britta all around, even wanting to sit next to her at the table on his black booster seat.
“Look how he likes you! If you can get a ride to Landisville, Britta, you can babysit any time you’re available,” Polly remarked.
Mamma spoke up from her usual spot at the table. “I’m sure our wunnerbaar driver, Rachelle Good, would be happy to take her.”
Henry, the only man present, sat at the head of the table in what had been Dat’s chair. “That’s a long way to come to babysit,” he said. “But we’d be glad to pay the driver.”
Britta looked over at her mother. “It’s up to Mamma.”
Right away, Mamma nodded. “All right with me.”
Britta was excited at the possibility. Being with sister Polly and family helped to take some of the lingering sting from missing Allen and Sarah.
“Let’s ask the blessing,” Henry suggested, folding his callused hands and bowing his blond head.
Joey and his older brother, seven-year-old Junior, did the same.
While Britta prayed silently, thankful for this food, she also thanked God for her dear family on this special day after Christmas.
When the prayer ended, Henry cleared his throat and raised his head.
Without delay, Mamma began to pass the platters—roast beef, creamy mashed potatoes and gravy, stuffing, green beans, butter noodles, coleslaw, homemade rolls, and bread pudding.
A feast, Britta thought, hoping she’d have room for a taste of everything on her plate. With three little kids, how’d Polly have time to make all this?
When dinner was finished, and Susie’s applesauce cake and coconut cream pie were served along with Polly’s chocolate pie and soft molasses cookies, Mamma rose and gave eleven-month-old Nellie Ann tiny bites of one of the cookies. Nellie Ann waved her arms happily, then gave Mamma’s cheek a pat with her dimpled hand.
Meanwhile, Susie sat next to Junior, who was as fidgety as any child Britta had ever known, and not only at the table—quite different from Joey, still seated next to Britta. This made her wonder what she had been like at their ages.
After desserts, Henry opened Dat’s old German Biewel and read the Christmas story from the gospel of Luke. Even tiny Nellie Ann seemed to listen to the beautiful account of the Christ Child’s birth and the angels’ visitation to the shepherds that holy night.
Later, when Polly slipped away to the front room to nurse Nellie Ann, Britta quietly followed and sat down on a nearby chair. “Do you remember when I was a baby?” she asked, feeling more comfortable talking to Polly than she had to Henry the day he’d cleared the broken branches.
Polly smiled. “Oh jah. For one thing, ya scarcely ever cried,” she said. “You were very sweet . . . still are.”
“Mamma’s said that, too—that I wasn’t a fussy baby.” Britta sighed. “I wish there was a picture of me when I was little.”
“You know photographs are frowned on,” Polly said, looking surprised. She adjusted the lightweight blanket covering Nellie Ann’s face while she nursed. “Henry said you were asking him ’bout your adoption, too.”
Britta nodded. “I didn’t think he’d tell ya.”
“Oh, we share everything—no secrets ’tween us.” Polly gave her a kind look. “You’ll know all ’bout that someday when you’re married.”
Smiling, Britta thought about one of the good-looking teen boys she’d caught glancing at her on Christmas Eve while caroling—Roy Lantz, a year older at fourteen.
“What did ya want to know?” Polly asked.
Britta wondered what Mamma would think if she walked in and heard them talking like this, but she took the risk. “Well, to start with, who was my first mother?” she asked, lowering her voice to a near whisper. “And why didn’t she keep me?”
“I don’t know that.” Polly shook her head. “Not sure anyone does.”
“Not a soul?”
Polly was quiet for a moment. “I’m not sure ya know this, but Mamma didn’t think she’d be adding to our family permanently after Dat died. She was so grateful to be able to adopt you after carin’ for ya for a couple of years as a foster Mamma,” Polly explained, a thoughtful expression on her face. “’Course if I was adopted, I ’spect I might be curious like you.”
This made Britta smile. “Do ya think it’s natural to be this curious?”
“It’s hard to know what I’d think or feel if I were in your shoes, really.” Polly looked toward the window, then back at Britta. “I do hope ya know how dearly loved you are here . . . in this family.”
Britta nodded and wondered how she’d feel once she was of age and hearing Mamma tell her all she knew.
Just then, Henry came in to stoke the fire. “We’re gonna play some games in the kitchen,” he announced. “Susie’s itchin’ to take us on in dominoes.”
“Okay, I’ll put Nellie Ann down for her nap,” Polly said.
Evidently their little talk was over, but Britta was comforted to know that Polly would probably be interested in her family roots, too, if she were adopted.
CHAPTER
21
Everyone played several games of dominoes, then sat around and sang carols—Britta’s favorite part of the festivities. Later, they opened the few simple presents, things like an insulated lunch pack for Henry and a book of home remedies for Polly. Junior and Joey each received bedtime storybooks, and Henry and Polly gave Britta and Susie bath and body wash, and to Mamma, a bottle of lightly scented lilac hand lotion.
Around midafternoon, Susie and Mamma brought the leftover cake and pie to the table to have with coffee or hot cocoa.
“Best be warmin’ yourselves before going out,” Mamma said as she placed clean forks and spoons in the middle of the table.
By the time Henry and Polly were ready to leave, the sun was beginning to set, and Britta had a little catch in her throat, realizing the day was coming to a close. She wished they would stay around for a late supper, even though they’d all had their fill. It was odd, really, she thought, how having more family around to fill up the house with their familiar voices and presence made her so contented.
Most of all, she was glad for the special moments with her older sister, few though they were, and Britta hoped Polly might visit again soon. And that Polly would line her up to babysit, just maybe.
That next day Susie took the family carriage out on the snow-packed roads with Britta to deliver a cherry pie and some snickerdoodle cookies to Aendi Emmalyn, who lived in a nice-sized Dawdi Haus next to her son’s place. They were on their way home when they noticed Obie and Jerome parked off the side of the road in their father’s enclosed carriage.
“Was is letz do?” Britta wondered aloud.
“Looks like they broke down.” Susie eyed the carriage and slowed onto the shoulder, then stopped. “Maybe we can help.”
Before they even got out, Obie came up to the driver’s side, and Susie opened the buggy door. “Susie! You’re a godsend,” he said, looking serious. “Could ya give us a lift home?”
“Sure,” Susie said, and while Jerome tied their mare to the back of the buggy to lead her home, she quickly got out of the carriage to fold down the front seat so Obie could get in the back. Once Jerome squeezed into the buggy next to his brother and Susie had put the front seat back up, she and Britta climbed back in.
“Dat an’ I’ll come back later with tools to fix the wheel,” Obie explained as Susie picked up the driving lines.
“Thank goodness it ain’t blizzarding yet.” Susie glanced over her shoulder at them.
“Snow’s comin’ later tonight,” Obie mentioned. “Hopefully won’t get too much, since I need to get back to Sugar Valley tomorrow.”
“Jah, I remember you sayin’ that,” Susie replied, suddenly wishing Obie and she were the only ones riding together. There was so much she wanted to say to him, but letter writing had become their main way of communicating, and she felt too reticent.
“Say, I meant to ask ya the other day, but besides Britta here, how are your siblings?” Obie tapped Britta’s shoulder and chuckled.
“Everyone’s fine,” Susie replied. “Allen and Sarah are busy with their brood, of course, and Polly and Henry spent Christmas with us, like usual.”
“Does Allen ever talk of comin’ back to visit?” Obie asked.
“Not recently, but we would love to see them. Sure seems like we’re missin’ out on their lives, ’specially the children’s. Not sure I’ll even recognize them when I see ’em next.”
They continued sharing news about each other’s families, and Susie recalled the many times they’d played games and gone ice-skating on the pond. Memories all bundled up with the joy that had colored everything those years, at least when Obie was around.
There was the Christmas he had helped Susie string popcorn to decorate over the windows. Mamma had cheerfully let them have their fun; even she was in a better mood with Obie around.
Another year, Mamma let Obie and Susie clean out the big bowl with their fingers when she’d made chocolate pudding. Obie had ended up with a chocolatey nose and lips and afterward had looked around, asking if there just might be another bowl to clean out, too.
“Do you remember makin’ taffy one Christmas?” Obie asked unexpectedly. “It was peppermint, I think.”
“You’re right!” She laughed. “That was, what, back when we were eleven, maybe?”
Britta glanced at Susie, clearly enjoying the banter.
“We should make some again,” Obie said.
“Mamma surely has the recipe.” Susie wondered why he’d mentioned it and found it interesting that they both were reminiscing. “Remember when we built that strange-looking snowman?”
“The Christmas after Eli died,” Obie said. “We were so young.”
Susie nodded, wishing he hadn’t mentioned Eli. “I was eight, and you were nine.”
Jerome spoke up just then. “Why wasn’t I ever invited over for all this Christmas fun?” He tried to sound dramatic but ended up laughing.
“Oh, you were busy with other things,” Obie replied.
“And I wasn’t even born yet,” Britta said. “Not the Christmas ya built the snowman.”
“But once you were around, Obie made over you—you used to squeeze his finger ever so tight when you were a baby,” Susie told her.
“That’s the first I ever heard of it.” Britta beamed.
“You had a mighty grip,” Obie said, pausing. “And ya made your sister smile again.”
“Mamma too,” Susie added, enjoying the back-and-forth chumminess, feeling like she and Obie were the old pals they had always been, yet unable to deny the tug of attraction she felt toward him. Even so, she braced her heart, knowing he’d be off again in no time.
Sugar Valley is his home now. Susie felt a wave of regret—she had missed her chance to share how she truly felt about his going that long-ago day when he’d asked her opinion about the move. Why didn’t I foresee how much I’d miss his friendship . . . and speak up when I had the chance?
CHAPTER
22
WINTER, A YEAR LATER
In the dark, blustery days of January, Mamma came down with symptoms of pneumonia. Especially at night, she struggled with wrenching coughs, so hard and frequent that they caused her ribs to ache. Susie cared for her constantly, and Emmalyn and Lettie, Mattie, and the bishop’s wife, Mary, took turns spending time with Mamma, as well, bringing homemade chicken soup and praying beside her. When nightfall came, Britta read the Bible aloud at her bedside, even when Mamma had finally fallen asleep.
Her breathing was so wheezy and shallow that Susie worried they might lose Mamma like they had Dat and Eli, and she prayed earnestly that God would spare her. Susie felt certain her mother needed to be seen by a doctor, but her appeals fell on deaf ears. Only the dear Lord knows how to make it happen, Susie thought.
