Courting Caleb, page 16
“His mistress?” Caleb said blankly. “Who is that?”
“Ach, let’s geh on an’ stop yer yammerin’.” Birchbark showed renewed determination and Caleb followed gladly.
* * *
While she worked, Abigail spent a good part of the day praying that Birchbark’s pack might be found. But amid the flurry of shoppers, those either picking up pottery already ordered or looking for a last-minute pottery present, she didn’t see Caleb. So she knew that the search must still be on.
She had sat down to have a refreshing cup of licorice tea when the shop bell rang once more. Abigail looked up and saw Grace Fisher enter hurriedly, almost as if she were being pursued.
Abigail saw with shock that a red mark curved around the pallor of Grace’s face. Her bottom lip was split, and it was clear that she was trying to hide her injuries beneath her bonnet.
“Grace,” Abigail said gently as she rounded the counter to touch the other woman’s hand. “What happened? What can I do to help you?”
Grace shook her head. “My two buwes—I thought you might have piggy banks for them.”
“Of course, but won’t you sit down for a minute or two? I can make more tea.”
“Nee, danki. I am gut at soothing myself. If you could hurry, I need to get back to the store.... Anke is keeping an eye on things until I return.”
“Certainly, I will hurry.” Abigail went to the back pottery and pulled two banks off a narrow shelf. Then she rolled them carefully in newspaper and slipped them into a brown bag.
She returned to the front of the pottery to find Grace standing tensely beside the counter. She handed Grace the bag.
“Merry Christmas Eve,” Abigail murmured, longing to do something to help the other woman but knowing it would probably cause more harm than gut. Still, when Grace pulled a small pocketbook from her cloak, Abigail shook her head. “There’s no charge.”
“How much is it, please? I—I don’t want your pity.”
“Of course.” Abigail hastily scribbled out a total in her small accounts book. “It’s three dollars, sei se gut.”
Grace carefully counted out the change then lifted the bag. “Danki, Abigail.”
Abigail called her thanks but Grace was already out the door. Abigail sank down on a stool and started to pray, realizing there was much that needed to be given—not only on Christmas but every day.
* * *
Caleb stripped off his sodden clothes and hastily dressed to geh to Abigail’s. Half the day spent in futile search had exhausted him, though he supposed they’d made some sort of progress now that Birchbark seemed certain Sam Fisher was the culprit. Still, Caleb longed for the peace he found in the potter’s presence.
“Fred wants ta geh with ya,” Birchbark muttered as he changed his long johns.
“Will you still be gone overnacht?”
Birchbark lifted his chin. “’Course I will.”
“Well, then, I’ll see you tomorrow.” Caleb nodded, then opened the door.
“Buwe?” Birchbark said gruffly. “I mean—uh—Caleb?”
“Jah?”
“Danki fer yer help taday. Much appreciated.”
Caleb knew it was hard for the auld man to offer such thanks and he smiled as he stepped out into the snow shine.
* * *
Mercy watched Phillip devour the snowball cookies while Grossmuder Mildred clapped at the gaiety she could feel in the small cabin.
“I think you outta geh home and make some more of these! Phillip, geh and help her.”
“Jah, but to leave you here alone wouldn’t be fair,” Mercy said, even though she wanted Phillip to kumme with her.
“Nee.” The auld woman struck the hardwood floor with her ironwood cane. “Geh! And enjoy the rest of the day! Some of the men will bring me down to the singing tonight.”
“As you wish,” Phillip said, bending to kiss her cheek.
Mercy did the same and then they hurried off the top of the hill. Phillip stopped suddenly and turned to look down at her, excitement in his handsome face.
“I have an idea!”
“Jah?” she questioned cautiously.
“I’ll be right back.”
She watched him for a minute, then turned to look at the view of Blackberry Falls below. Gott had blessed the land of endless mountains. The tiny village of Blackberry Falls glowed with warm lantern light, soft and bright. Some kind of joy filled her until she realized that it was the first time in a long time that she didn’t feel anger toward Gott. She knew now that the bitterness that had led to her sharp tongue and cold heart had come from within and she—
“Mercy! Look what I found in the shed.”
He carried a long runner sled, and his eyes glowed with pleasure. “What do you say, Mercy?”
She swallowed hard. She’d been terrified of racing sleds ever since a childhood accident. But when she saw how happy he was, she smiled and clambered onto the front of the sled while he sat in a close embrace, his long legs bent around her. He pulled hard on the rope and then they were off! The feel of the wind and cold on her face—ach! It was amazing. But they soon hit a rock, hidden by the snow, that caused them to bounce into the air. She squeezed her eyes shut and started to scream, but somehow Phillip managed to right the sled and she laughed out loud as they landed with a sharp spray of ice.
Chapter Twenty-Four
In the late afternoon, Caleb was on his way to Abigail’s when Fred barked sharply at him from behind.
“All right. Kumme on, buwe.”
Still, the dog stood stiff, barking furiously. Caleb turned and started to climb up the hill after his pet. He figured the dog had probably treed a raccoon and wanted to show off. But as soon as he reached Fred, the dog turned and ran ahead, barking loudly.
Caleb sighed and wished that Birchbark was there to interpret. Then his thoughts sped up and he wondered if all was well at the cabin. But when they reached it, Fred lured him on, higher up the mountain. They finally reached a spot where Caleb could see an odd path winding through a stand of pine trees and heavy brush. Two cardinals welcomed him, tweeting from different snow-covered bushes, their vibrant color all the more beautiful against the pristine white. Even Fred didn’t scare them away, and Caleb started down the path.
He turned a corner and ran in to Mercy’s sohn and his friend. He didn’t really know the two buwes but could recognize the grim expressions on both their faces.
“What is it?” Caleb asked.
The buwe he knew as Tad spoke in a choked tone. “That—trickster, Sam Fisher, was here this morning. He was mean to my fater. Why, I’d like to punch that man. . . .”
“Will you take me to your dad?” Caleb asked.
The buwes turned and started back down the path, and Caleb followed. There was a hush about the place, and even Fred had stopped barking.
They came in sight of a small cabin, maintained neatly. But the strange image of an auld man, dressed only in long johns and running about the cabin, disturbed Caleb greatly. “You buwes geh and find Phillip.”
“I hate to leave Daed alone. He’s . . . well . . . he’s got nerves, they say.” Tad’s voice was full of despair.
Caleb put a bracing hand on Tad’s shoulder. “I will stay with him.”
Tad nodded and the two buwes turned away while Caleb began to walk slowly toward the wild-haired man. Somehow, Caleb knew instinctively that remaining calm would calm the other man.
“Hello, I’m Caleb. What’s your name?”
The other man, looking around himself furtively, hopped from one bare foot to the other. “I be Zechariah and he knowed it.”
“Zechariah, why don’t we geh inside? I be cold,” Caleb soothed.
“Can’t. Can’t leave ’cause he’ll be back.”
“Who?” Caleb asked.
“That mean one. Scared me with that gun but I didn’t break. I knowed where I put it and I keep it well.”
“Great job, Zechariah. You kept things safe.”
“I show ya,” the auld man whispered. “You be gut—I know. I know things that other people don’t.”
“I think you’re smart,” Caleb whispered back.
“Folks don’t think that—but now I show ya.”
Caleb followed the man deep into a stand of firs, wishing he could coax Zechariah into the cabin.
“Folks—they look down and around but not up. Not where Gott be. Look up!”
Caleb obeyed. He looked up at the pines dusted with snow, and then something flashed into view . . . a frame of wood, oddly out of place. He looked again—it was Birchbark’s pack!
“Seed it. Didn’t ya?” Zechariah asked.
Caleb broke into a broad smile. “How did you get it up there?”
“Rope and pulley. I did it and he couldn’t find it! Was that snake, Fisher, what stole it. He wants it ta use fer bad things, but I stole it back. He said he’d kill me if I didn’t give it up. Think he’ll do that?”
“No,” Caleb said tightly. “You can come stay with Birchbark and me. And Tad, too.”
“Jah, jah, Birchbark’s my friend. He knows me.”
“Gut! Now let’s get you dressed and lower that pack down.”
* * *
The Stolfus haus fairly gleamed with candlelight, and silence reigned over the worshippers gathered there. It was a time of reflection and personal prayer. The candles reminded them of the ever-increasing fragility of life but also of the great power of every life that knew Derr Herr. And then the candles were extinguished, and Bishop Kore got up to give his Christmas sermon.
Caleb had noticed that the Fisher family was not present and knew that Zechariah was safe in a back room with Phillip and Tad and Joshua. As he listened to the sermon, Caleb was fascinated by the bishop’s two sides, his strange sense of humor and his beautiful elegance as he applied the Word to everyday life.
The bishop stood by a single lit lantern and the groups on the benches settled in for what surely would be a long talk.
Bishop Kore stroked his long gray beard and looked thoughtful. “Well, it’s said that we should keep Christmas all the year but I cannot do that. Nee, instead I mess up, make mistakes, and fail. I even think that I have failed Gott and that there will be no place to hide from Him and His disappointment in me. But this last thing is a lie. Gott doesn’t see me as a failure, or worthless, or as someone who never measures up enough. You see, there’s a difference between enough and abundance. We, as humans, think in terms of enough. We’re not gut enough, didn’t do enough, were not enough.... The concept of enough haunts us. But Gott, He deals in abundance. He wants us to have abundant life, overflowing, raining down . . . Abundant love . . . and abundant peace. Derr Herr says that He gives peace but not as the world gives, because the world doesn’t seek peace in a manger with shepherds as attendants. So, look for abundance this Christmas, and may you find it in Gott.”
Caleb watched the bishop’s eyes as they seemed to twinkle in the light and knew that what the auld man said, no matter how crazy, was Truth.
* * *
Phillip sat quietly with Zechariah as the old man moved back and forth in a bentwood rocker. Phillip had insisted on sitting with the wiry man, his sohn Tad and also Joshua, in a room distant from the other worshippers. The candlelight service had ended in the large hall and there was now the distant murmur of people enjoying party foods for Christmas Eve. Zechariah had not felt comfortable earlier, but now Phillip noticed the auld man sniff the air with appreciation.
“Smells like ham, don’t it?”
Phillip smiled. “Would you feel comfortable getting some food or should I get it for you?”
“Don’t feel right going out there, but I be hungry.”
Phillip rose and clapped a hand on Zechariah’s thin shoulder, bid the buwes to stay, then left the room.
He saw Mercy busily serving hot cocoa while smiling and talking with the guests. Phillip knew that this was a Christmas Eve he would surely remember the rest of his life. Colors seemed brighter and the tea sweeter and the tall tree that dazzled with candles shone with beautiful elegance even though it was unadorned with ornaments or glitter.
Phillip knew that it was enough to have one Christmas like this, and he was grateful in his heart for such an evening. He blinked then smiled as he discovered that Mercy was no more than two feet away.
“Your thoughts are deep tonight,” Mercy murmured as she passed him the last cup of cocoa from her tray.
He smiled down at her, noting the beautiful curves of her face. And the shine of her red hair. “Would you share a cup with me?” he asked, offering her a drink of the cocoa.
She took a cautious sip. “It’s hot!” She passed the cup back.
“It is indeed.” Phillip laughed. “Would you help me gather up some food for the brood in the back?”
Mercy held out her tray. “Let’s get some plates.”
Phillip followed her willingly.
* * *
Mercy felt a warm cascade of heat down her back, knowing Phillip followed close behind her. It was a wonder to her that she felt comfortable, and moreover beautiful, when she knew his eyes were on her. She felt him move by her side down the long tables lined with food—ham, roast beef, venison, mashed potatoes, mashed sweet potatoes, and mashed turnips and then sweets of every kind with side dishes in between. Mercy filled the tray with large portions, knowing how Tad and Joshua loved their treats. She was also pleased to be able to meet Tad’s fater. She knew that Tad was very protective of his daed, and she couldn’t blame the buwe. Mental illness, including anxiety, was not well understood among the Amisch.
Phillip held the door to one of the back rooms open for her and she slipped quietly inside with the steaming tray. Tad’s fater jumped up from the rocking chair and bowed to her. She smiled at the auld man in return and slid the tray onto a nearby reading table.
Tad and his fater made a beeline for the food, while Joshua hung back for a bit until Phillip gently motioned him forward.
“Thank you,” Mercy whispered, “for being so kind to the buwes.”
“It’s my pleasure. Truly.”
She nodded, knowing that he spoke the truth.
* * *
Later that evening, Abigail looked intently at Caleb as he took her inside the pottery. His coat radiated cold, but she knew that beneath it and his shirt was the alluring promise of the bare skin of his chest. She went into his arms, lifting her mouth for the taste of his kiss. It was like drinking dandelion wine on a hot summer day. “Mmmm, sir. You are intoxicating.”
She watched him flush, and then he lifted the pack he’d set behind him. “I—uh . . . well I spoke to Derr Herr about the abundance of Birchbark’s pack. You see, I was wishing hard for something—so, here goes!”
She watched him put his hand inside the pack, and then he smiled as he withdrew his arm to reveal a large wrapped gift. He handed it to her. “Merry Christmas.” His voice low and warm. It made her want to kiss him forever. But she wondered what his gift was. She looked down and untied the red ribbon, then gently opened the paper to reveal a heavy black cloak. She let the mysterious fabric spread out, then looked up at him. “A woman’s cloak!”
He grinned at her. “Indeed, a woman’s cloak—one without paint.”
“Ach, danki, Caleb. I love it!”
“There’s one more thing, my sweet.” He took the cloak from her and turned it over to reveal a black satiny piece of lining—a pocket, small and intimate, that she could easily access. “What’s this?”
“You remember your ad? Something about poetry?”
Her smile grew. “Shall I see what’s in the pocket?”
“If you’ll allow me?”
She nodded and he reached two lean fingers inside to withdraw a sheet of white paper. Then he cleared his throat.
“Ever before me—gossamer wings
Honey hair and secret kisses.
She is more than the sum of her beauty
Wisdom and gaiety—hands that make and mold
She’s not afraid of the fire that burns bright
Within her—waiting for my touch.”
He looked up at her and she watched the color kumme into his cheeks. She knew it took a lot of courage for a man to speak so.
“Caleb, that was beautiful.... Is that truly the way you see me?”
“Nee . . . To my eyes, you are even more than all this. I love you, Abigail. Merry Christmas.”
She laid her head on his chest, listening to the warm and steady beating of his heart and knew that she was home.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Caleb knew that the Mountain Amisch traditionally spent Christmas Day as a time of quiet family reflection and prayer. Still, he was glad that his bruder Matthew had invited him to spend the afternoon at his haus. Birchbark still hadn’t returned and Caleb knew that Abigail was probably spending the day at Mercy’s haus. So, it made him feel a little less lonely to be with his bruder.
He’d brought a cluster of holly and some winterberry as decoration for Tabitha and Matthew’s fine wooden table as well as a glass jar of cranberry applesauce from Birchbark’s abundant pantry. He knocked on the door, a beautiful example of fine woodworking, and was surprised when Anke opened it.
“Kumme in! Kumme, Caleb! The others are in the kitchen.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Abner loves the sleigh. He took me for a ride, and we will geh home later the same way.”
Caleb smiled down at her, then wondered who was in the kitchen, as a burst of laughter, quickly quieted, filled the air.
Anke led him in, and Caleb was happily surprised to find not only his bruder and Tabitha, but Abner, John Stolfus and Mercy, as well as a person who caused his heart to speed up—Abigail. Everything else faded to a background blur as he crossed the room to greet her. She looked festive and beautiful, wearing a dark green dress and long black apron, and she held out her hands to him.
Nothing seemed so right as laying aside the holly and taking her hands in his own. He knew her for what she was, fragile but incredibly strong, someone to cross the years with and to love for always....
