The Amish Widow's Christmas Hope, page 10
“That road leads past the ice cream shop I told you about,” she said over her shoulder.
“You mean Brubaker’s?” Walker asked.
“Jah.”
“It’s not there anymore. They moved back to Ontario the summer after you left.”
“Really? That’s a shame.”
“It’s okay, Mamm. Jane will show us a different ice cream shop this summer,” Patience consoled her.
“This summer?” Walker sounded perplexed.
Fern surreptitiously tapped his arm and put a finger to her mouth, shaking her head. She didn’t want to ruin the festive mood by reminding Patience they wouldn’t be in Maine in the summer. In a voice loud enough for the children to hear, she asked him, “Where do people go to get ice cream cones in Serenity Ridge now?”
“We go to Foster’s. They still have a shop on Lincoln Avenue.”
Fern was familiar with the Englisch creamery, but she’d never been there herself. “Do they have cotton candy ice cream?”
“I don’t think so.”
“That’s too bad. Cotton candy was Gloria’s favorite flavor.” Fern was surprised by how natural it felt to mention Gloria now. A little farther down the road, she told the children, “There’s the street that leads to the library. Walker used to pick me up there when—”
Fern cut her sentence short, mortified she’d almost disclosed that Walker used to pick her up at the library when they were courting. They’d chosen that location because Roman never visited the library, so there was virtually no chance of him traveling down the small side road during the day. Fern’s uncle was usually asleep by the time Walker brought Fern home, but Walker would drop her off at the end of the street by her house, just to be on the safe side.
Ever attentive to the smallest nuance, Patience asked, “When what, Mamm?”
“When it was raining and I needed a ride to visit our friends,” Fern said. She quickly added, “He’d give Gloria a ride, too.” Fern silently prayed Walker wouldn’t elaborate on her response, which was technically true but shamefully misleading. Walker had picked Fern up in the rain. Occasionally Gloria accompanied them, too, and they continued on to attend singings with the rest of the youth in Serenity Ridge. However, more often than not when Walker picked Fern up, it wasn’t raining and they were headed off to go hiking or out to supper alone, not with Gloria or anyone else. But Fern had never told the children that Walker had courted her before marrying Gloria, and she didn’t want them to ever find out.
Patience was still puzzled. “Why didn’t he pick you and Gloria up at Onkel Roman’s haus?”
Fern’s mouth went dry. To her relief, Walker replied, “Because the library was halfway between our heiser and both Gloria and your mamm loved to read. So they’d take the shortcut through the woods and read while they were waiting for me to kumme get them.”
His answer relieved Fern and satisfied Patience, who sighed and said, “I love to read, too.”
“I love to explore the woods,” Phillip piped up. “Will you show us the shortcut tomorrow, Mamm?”
“Maybe. It depends on the weather.”
“You’d better be careful,” Walker warned. “There was a moose sighting in the woods before the ice storm. A bull, too, in broad daylight. Unusual for this time of year.”
Overhearing him, Patience whined, “There’s a moose in our woods?”
Even though Fern had told the children there might have been a moose wandering in the swampy area across the street from their house, she’d tried to present the possibility in a way that indicated the moose would be scared of them, not that they should be scared of the moose.
Walker must have heard the fear in Patience’s voice because he punned, “Well, if there is, he’s probably a Chrismoose, so you’d better leave some Grischtdaag kuche out for him!”
Phillip cracked up and Patience giggled, too, but Fern anticipated the damage had been done; before Patience’s bedtime, Fern was going to have to field a lot of questions about moose. At least it will be better than answering any more questions about Walker picking me up in his buggy, she thought.
When they arrived at the school, it was still in session, so Phillip and Patience hopped out of the carriage and ran to wait on the staircase for Jane.
“Sorry about that,” Walker said to Fern, giving her a sheepish look. “I shouldn’t have mentioned the moose in front of Patience.”
“It’s okay.” Fern wanted to apologize for what she’d said about him picking her up at the library, but she would have felt awkward alluding to their courtship again.
Setting his gaze on the schoolhouse door, Walker nonchalantly asked, “What did Patience mean about going to the ice cream shop in the summer? Have you reconsidered selling the haus?”
“What? Neh!” Fern exclaimed.
Walker leaned back in the seat and Fern couldn’t read his expression by his profile. Was he relieved? Disappointed? “Are you sure? Because if you did change your mind, that’s fine with me.”
“Fine with you?” she repeated dumbly.
“Jah. I mean, even though we told Anthony we were going to sell it, it’s not too late to make other arrangements. The Lord has, ah, blessed me monetarily, so it’s not as if I’m counting on the sale...”
Oh, so that was it. Walker was only letting her know if she changed her mind, it wouldn’t put him under any financial duress. While she appreciated his assurance, Fern felt her heart settle an inch lower in her chest. What was I expecting him to say? That he wants me to stay in Serenity Ridge? She wouldn’t, of course, even if he’d asked her to, so it was ridiculous to feel disappointed he hadn’t. It must be that seeing so many old sights has made me nostalgic, she realized. But I’m nostalgic about being young, not about being with Walker.
“Denki, but staying here is Patience’s prayer, not mine. I let her talk about the possibility because I don’t want to discourage her from taking her requests to the Lord, but I absolutely intend to go through with the sale as soon as possible.”
“I see,” Walker replied noncommittally, just as someone flung open the school door so forcefully the wreath nearly flew off its hook. It was Jane.
She clamored down the stairs and exuberantly embraced each of her cousins. Then Phillip charged back to the buggy, but Patience unbuttoned her coat and Fern recognized she was showing Jane that she was wearing her old dress. Whatever Jane said in response caused Patience to hug her cousin a second time. As the girls joined hands and galloped across the schoolyard together, they reminded Fern so much of how close she’d once been to Gloria she didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
* * *
For the rest of their trip, Walker and Fern quietly listened to the children chattering about the evening’s upcoming event. As Phillip’s, Patience’s and Jane’s laughter filled the carriage, Walker found himself wishing Fern weren’t so adamant about leaving Maine right away. Jane would have loved to have her cousins living so close by for a while longer, and they obviously would have enjoyed more time with her, too. I wouldn’t mind having Fern nearby, either. Now that we’ve broken the ice, I wonder why she’s still in such a rush to leave.
Ordinarily, Walker would have speculated Fern wanted to get back to Ohio because she had a suitor waiting for her there, but his mother informed him she’d found out on Sunday that Fern wasn’t being courted. I suppose it’s none of my business why she’s in a hurry to go, he thought. They’re leaving soon and that’s that. For tonight, it’s a blessing for the kinner to be together.
When they arrived at Walker’s house, the children ran off to retrieve Jane’s scooter from the barn. Fern and Walker went inside, where they found Walker’s mother in a tizzy. She told them that afternoon Jaala had taken her to the phone shanty to call Willa, as was their Wednesday afternoon practice. But it was Willa’s husband, Mark, who answered the phone at the agreed upon time. Apparently Willa and her children were suffering from high fevers and body aches. Willa could scarcely take care of herself, much less tend to her four little ones.
“Mark’s beside himself. I regret missing Jane’s program, but I ought to leave as soon as possible to help him. Since today was Jane’s last day of school this week, I could take her with me, but I don’t want her to come down with whatever Willa’s familye has.”
“Don’t worry about Jane. She can kumme to the tree farm with me in the mornings and then I’ll take her to Roman’s haus in the afternoons.”
“Or you could drop her off at our haus before you go to work on Thursday and Friday,” Fern immediately offered. “The kinner would be thrilled they get to spend two entire days together.”
Walker didn’t hesitate to accept. Although Jane could have played with the Swarey children at the farm, he knew she’d prefer to be with her cousins while she could. “I’ll go call a driver,” he said. There were two dependable Englisch drivers in Serenity Ridge and three more in Unity, so he was confident he’d be able to arrange transportation to the neighboring town.
“Louisa, you go pack. I’ll put supper on the table,” Fern suggested, and Walker’s mother readily complied. They’d all finished their meal just as the driver pulled up shortly before six o’clock.
“It’s too bad you’re going to miss the Grischtdaag program, Groossmammi,” Jane expressed sincerely.
“I would have loved to see it, but I’m glad you recited your verses and sang the songs so often with me. I’ll be able to picture it in my mind,” Louisa replied. She bent to whisper something in her granddaughter’s ear and Jane nodded in agreement.
Then Louisa gave everyone else a hug and wished Fern and her children a merry Christmas. As Walker escorted her to the van, she instructed him to call her at eleven a.m. on Saturday to make sure everyone had recovered enough for him and Jane to visit for Christmas.
“I will, Mamm—unless there’s a blizzard and I can’t make it to the phone shanty,” Walker teased, but his mother was too worried for jokes.
“Gott willing, that won’t happen, too,” she murmured, wringing her hands. “But if it does, don’t even think about venturing out into the snow. It’s more important you and Jane stay safe than you arrive at Willa’s for Grischtdaag.”
After helping her into the van, Walker stood on the side porch, waving until the vehicle rolled out of sight. As he turned to open the door to the mudroom, he glanced through the kitchen window. Inside, Fern was washing the dishes and the children were drying and putting them away. Listening closely, he recognized they were singing, “All is calm, all is bright,” which was exactly how he would have described the feeling in his heart at that moment.
Chapter Seven
Once they arrived at the schoolyard, the children rushed off so Jane could introduce Patience and Phillip to her friends before the program started, but Fern waited for Walker to hitch the horse. Standing just beyond the foot of the buggy, she balanced her container of peanut brittle atop two containers of sugar cookies Louisa had prepared. There was just enough moonlight to see the faces of other parents and children, and whether she recognized them from when she lived there or not, Fern exchanged warm greetings as they passed on their way into the building.
One man said hello and then stopped short and swung around. “Fern Troyer?” he asked incredulously.
“Jah,” she said, answering to her maiden name.
He pulled his scarf away from his chin. “It’s me, Stephen Hertig.”
“Hello, Stephen, how are you?” Fern stalled. He obviously knew her when she lived in Serenity Ridge, but she hadn’t seen him in church on Sunday and she couldn’t immediately place him in her memory. Stephen must have noticed her hesitance because he chuckled.
“You’ve forgotten the first man to court you when you moved to Serenity Ridge?”
Fern instantly remembered—Stephen had only taken Fern out twice but that was enough for her to know he was charming, but he came on too strong for her taste. Judging from how openly he’d referred to their courtship just now, he was still as audacious as ever.
“My apologies. I didn’t recognize you with a beard. Is your wife inside? I’d like to meet her,” she said emphatically, hoping to embarrass him into demonstrating more discretion.
“Neh.” Stephen tugged the brim of his hat lower. “She died last year from cancer.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry!” Fern felt horrible. She softened her voice to confide, “My husband died from cancer, too.”
She shifted the goodies to one arm so she could reach out and give his hand a sympathetic squeeze, but the containers slid across one another. Stephen grabbed the top two before they fell and Fern managed to keep her grasp on the bottom one.
“I can carry these in for you,” he offered. “So, are you visiting or have you moved back to Serenity Ridge for gut?”
“Neh. I’m only here until Samschdaag. I, um, had some family business to take care of after my onkel Roman passed away.”
“I was sorry to hear about that, although sometimes Gott works in mysterious ways. You never know what else He might have in mind by bringing you back to Serenity Ridge.” It was too dark to be certain, but Fern thought he winked at her.
Unsettled, she simply thanked Stephen for his condolences. What’s taking Walker so long? she wondered, just as she saw movement in her peripheral vision. Walker took a step forward and Fern noticed his hands were clenched.
“Hello, Stephen,” he said curtly.
“Hi, Walker,” Stephen replied with a grin. “Don’t tell me you’re the man responsible for keeping Fern waiting out here in the cold with her arms full?”
Walker’s voice was so low it sounded like a growl. “Fern came with me because her kinner are Jane’s gschwischderkinner and Jane invited them to see the Grischtdaag program. We ought to get inside now.”
As Walker brusquely squeezed past Stephen and Fern and strode toward the school, Fern thought, He sure made a point of letting Stephen know I’m only here with him because Jane wants Phillip and Patience to see the program. Fern supposed his caution was understandable, considering how quickly rumors caught fire in their community. Still, she was flustered by Walker’s gruffness.
Trying to make up for it, she conversationally asked Stephen, “How many kinner do you have?”
“None. Anke and I were only married for a year when she got sick, but Gott willing, I’ll be blessed with lots of seh and dochdere when I remarry.”
“Oh, you’re remarrying?” Fern felt foolish for worrying Stephen had been flirting with her. “Is she someone from Serenity Ridge?”
“Neh, I was speaking hypothetically,” Stephen said. “Right now, I’m on my own. I actually live in Unity—that’s where Anke was from so we built a haus there. But I visit my bruder’s familye as often as I can. In fact, I came early for Grischtdaag to surprise my nieces and nephews. They have no idea I’ll be here at the program tonight.”
As they climbed the stairs to the schoolhouse, Walker said over his shoulder, “It’s almost time for the program to start. I’ve got to go talk to Abram for a minute. Fern, you’d better round up Phillip and Patience.”
“I will, as soon as I deliver the goodies to the dessert table,” Fern replied indignantly. It would be nice if you gave me a hand instead of giving me instructions.
“I’ll help,” Stephen offered, holding the door for her.
After Fern and Stephen eased their way through the crowd to add Fern’s and Louisa’s treats to the refreshment tables set up in the corner of the room, Stephen left to stand by his brother along the back wall with the rest of the men. The scholars, as the students were called, and the teacher had arranged two rows of chairs for the women; the teenagers and visiting children were expected to sit on the floor in front of them.
Fern spotted Phillip and Patience seated midway down the aisle with Jaala’s grandchildren, but all the chairs behind them were filled. Fern waved and placed a finger to her lips to indicate they were to be quiet during the presentation, even though she had no doubt they’d be on their best behavior. Then she took a seat at the end of the row next to Eleanor Sutter, a young woman Fern knew when she lived in Maine. They had chatted briefly in church the previous Sunday, but this evening they barely had time to exchange greetings before the teacher walked to the front of the room and welcomed everyone to the event.
The first part of the program included a Biblical skit about the nativity story, Scriptural recitation, and songs by the scholars. Although there were no costumes or props, Fern noticed Phillip and Patience hung on every word, and she caught herself moving her own lips when Jane recited her verses. The young girl spoke distinctly and solemnly, without missing a word, and after she finished, Fern wicked away a tear. Gloria would have been so delighted. She scanned the back wall to see if Walker was standing nearby so she could give him a smile in acknowledgment of Jane’s accomplishment, but he wasn’t in her range of vision.
After the presentation, the school board awarded the teacher a financial gift, and then the audience was invited to sing Christmas hymns with the scholars. After the last song, the teacher announced the children would give the parents the gifts they’d made for them—a pencil case for their fathers and travel sewing kits for their mothers—and invited everyone to indulge in the refreshments.
As the women rose to their feet, Eleanor turned to Fern and remarked, “That was a wunderbaar program, wasn’t it?”
“Jah. It was delightful. The children and their teacher must have worked very hard on it.” Fern craned her neck; she’d lost sight of Phillip and Patience.
“I couldn’t help but notice you came in with Stephen Hertig,” Eleanor hinted.
