An Amish Family Christmas: Heart of ChristmasA Plain Holiday Page 8

  Again and again he saw Susannah’s face when he’d suggested marriage. He could kick himself. No wonder she’d refused him. She’d known it was an impulse of a moment.

  If only Bishop John succeeded with Keim...

  The shop door opened, letting in a blast of cold air and a flurry of snowflakes. It closed again quickly, and he recognized William’s shoes and pants He stiffened. He still hadn’t gotten a satisfactory explanation of William’s actions. He seemed to hear Susannah’s voice telling him to keep trying, to be as calm and patient as she always was.

  “I’m under here, William.”

  William bent over, peering beneath the carriage, his face inverted. “Can I come under, too, Daadi?”

  Toby patted the floorboards next to him in answer. In a moment William had rolled under the carriage and moved next to him, staring into the underbelly of the vehicle.

  “What are you doing?”

  “The owner says it’s making a funny noise, so I’m trying to figure out why. I thought it might be the axle, but the fittings are fine.” He patted the sturdy axle just above his face.

  “What else could it be?”

  Toby suspected William hadn’t come out to the shop in the snow just to ask him questions about the buggy business, but if it helped ease him into what he wanted to say, that was okay by him.

  “I’m thinking, maybe the springs.” He indicated them with the pliers he held. “They’re what give you a comfortable ride, and one of them might be rubbing.”

  William nodded solemnly. “You like to work with tools, ja, Daadi?”

  “I do.” Give me the right words for my boy, Father. Help me to find out what troubles him.

  William was silent for a moment. “I liked building the candles with you. I hope they’re not broken.”

  “I hope so, too. But if they are, maybe we can fix them.” He breathed another silent prayer. “Most broken things can be fixed, if you know what’s wrong with them.”

  William nodded, his forehead furrowed.

  Treading cautiously, he went on. “It seems to me that something’s broken between you and me. We’re not as close as we used to be.”

  He paused, but William didn’t respond. His gaze was fixed on the springs.

  “I don’t know why,” Toby said. “If I did, maybe I could fix it. Was it something to do with your mammi’s dying?”

  William’s lips pressed together. He shook his head. “Look, Daadi. That spring is crooked. Maybe that’s making the noise.”

  Toby’s heart sank. But he tried to infuse some enthusiasm into his voice. “I believe you’re right. Let’s see if I can fix it.”

  He eased the pliers along the spring, trying to grasp the kink that had formed. It might have to be replaced.

  “I heard you,” William said suddenly. “You were talking to Grossdaadi and Grossmammi about sending me and Anna out West with them after Mammi died.”

  Toby’s hand jerked, and the twisted spring snapped. He dropped the pliers. He knew perfectly well what conversation William had overheard. He’d thought both children safely asleep when Emma’s parents had brought up their idea.

  Toby’s heart thudded in his ears. He wanted to set William straight, but he’d better try to find out exactly what the boy had been imagining. “What did you think that meant?”

  “You wanted to send us away.” A tear trickled down William’s cheek.

  Toby shifted to his side so that he could see his son’s face more clearly, his shoulder brushing the axle. “Then I think you didn’t hear the beginning of the talk. Or the end. Because if you did, you’d know that it was Grossmammi and Grossdaadi who brought up the idea. They wanted to take you with them. And you know what I told them?”

  William’s gaze met his, wide-eyed, and he shook his head.

  “I said I knew they wanted to help, but I couldn’t even think of being parted from my children. I said I loved you and Anna more than anything, and I couldn’t let you go.” He looked steadily into his son’s eyes. “That’s exactly what happened. You can write to them and ask them, if you want.”

  William just stared at him. Then he rolled right into Toby’s arms. Toby squeezed him close, his heart swelling, caught between laughter and tears. What a place for a father-and-son talk!

  But at last they had cleared the air between them. What difference did it make where it happened?

  William snuggled against him the way he had when he was younger. “I’m sorry, Daadi.” His voice was muffled. “I’m sorry I was mean to you.”

  “It’s okay. I love you even when you’re mean to me.”

  William sniffled a little. “And I’m sorry I messed up the Christmas program. I shouldn’t have got mad at Thomas and pushed him and wrecked the candles we made. We worked so hard on the Christmas program, and I messed it up.”

  “All of us worked hard on it,” he said. The faintest glimmer of an idea seemed to light up Toby’s mind. So many people were involved with the program. Maybe, just maybe...

  He moved, sliding himself and William across the floor.

  “What are we doing?” William seemed to sense his urgency.

  “You know how I said that broken things could be fixed? Well, maybe the Christmas program can be fixed, if we all work together.”

  And maybe, if his idea worked, even more than the Christmas program.

  * * *

  Everyone in Susannah’s family seemed to have somewhere to go on Friday afternoon. She wasn’t sorry that even her mother had taken off to go shopping, but she was a little surprised Mamm hadn’t insisted on Susannah accompanying her. Maybe her mother realized Susannah wasn’t ready for casual encounters with any church families yet.

  At last she had the solitude she’d been longing for, but oddly enough, she didn’t find it as peaceful as she would have expected. She found herself aimlessly wandering around the house, looking for something to do. Each time her thoughts slid toward Toby, she ruthlessly reined them in.

  She had been right to turn down his proposal, she told herself firmly. He hadn’t really meant it, and a marriage founded on guilt wouldn’t stand much chance of happiness.

  The Willow Run School was a far better subject for her to concentrate on. She’d been there several times when the local Amish teachers got together for meetings. It was always helpful to share ideas, and Susannah had picked up more than one useful tip that way. The school building was much like the Pine Creek School, with maybe a few more scholars. She’d think of it as a challenge.

  All of her teaching materials and books were still at school, of course. She’d been so numb after everything that happened, she hadn’t been able to bear the thought of packing them up. Maybe after Christmas, it would be easier.

  The whole extended family would be here for Christmas Day, and the following day, Second Christmas, they’d be making the rounds, visiting other relatives. Several gifts were already tucked away in the dower chest in her bedroom, but she was still working on a muffler for her brother Eli. Sitting down in the rocking chair, she took it from the workbasket and smoothed it out across her lap. The variegated brown yarn was soft to the touch but sufficiently masculine, she thought, and the half-double crochet stitch was easy enough that she could do it and carry on a conversation at the same time. In the evenings, she and Mamm sat on either side of the lamp to work, their tongues going as fast as their hooks or needles.

  Smiling a little, she began a new row. This was better. She hadn’t thought about her troubles in at least a minute or two.

  Susannah had barely reached the end of the row before she heard a buggy driving in the lane. Sticking the hook into the yarn ball to hold her place, she went to the kitchen window to see who was back already.

  But it wasn’t any of the family. It was Becky. She stopped by the back porch, jumped down from the bu
ggy and trotted toward the door.

  Susannah hurried to open it. “Becky, I wasn’t expecting you. I’ll put the kettle on.”

  “No time for that.” Becky yanked Susannah’s wool jacket from the hook by the back door. “Komm, schnell.”

  Susannah resisted Becky’s efforts to push her arm into the sleeve. “I’m not one of the twins. You don’t have to dress me. Where are we going in such a hurry?”

  “Don’t you trust me?” Becky’s eyebrows lifted.

  “Not when I think you’re up to something.” Susannah took the jacket firmly into her own hands. “I’m not taking another step until you tell me where we’re going.”

  “All right, stubborn. I’m going with you to get your things at the school. You don’t think I’d let you do it by yourself, do you?”

  Susannah blinked back a rush of tears. Becky knew her so well. She must have guessed that was preying on her mind.

  “That’s wonderful kind of you. But we don’t have to do it today—”

  “Better sooner than later, otherwise you’ll just be stewing about it.”

  “I’m not stewing.”

  “You’re moping then, and that’s worse. Komm. We’ll get it over with, and if you want to have a good cry, no one will see you.”

  Susannah recognized the look in Becky’s eyes. She was determined, and when Becky was determined, she wouldn’t let you have a moment’s peace until you did what she wanted. Susannah might as well get it over with.

  “All right. We’ll go.” Susannah pulled on the jacket. “But only because I know you’ll nag me to death if I refuse.”

  Though she didn’t relish the purpose of the expedition, Susannah found her spirits lifting a bit once the buggy was moving down the road. The crisp air seemed to blow away the cobwebs in her mind, and sunlight sparkled on the snow-covered fields where ice had formed.

  Becky gave her a searching glance. “So, how are you, really?”

  Susannah shrugged. “Better, I guess. I’m starting to feel enthusiastic about teaching at a new school. And I do need my materials so I can sort through them, if nothing else. Maybe it is best just to clear my things out of the Pine Creek School.” She tried not to let her voice quaver on the words.

  “I’m sorry.” Becky’s voice mirrored her grief. “I know how hard this is. That school has been your life.”

  True enough. Odd, that the school had fulfilled her all these years, and yet now, she longed for more. But the gift she wanted wasn’t going to be hers.

  “I’ll miss the school. The memories. The children.” She made an effort to swallow the lump in her throat. “But I can move on. Really. Now that the worst has happened, I can deal with it.”

  “I never doubted it for a minute,” Becky said. “But what about...well, Toby? I know you’d probably rather not talk about him, but he did ask you to marry him.”

  For once Susannah couldn’t tell from Becky’s voice what she was thinking, and the brim of her black bonnet hid her face. “He asked me,” she admitted. “And I refused him.”

  “But—”

  Susannah shook her head and hurried on. “It wouldn’t be right. Toby doesn’t care for me that way, not anymore, and I...I guess I’d rather be a good teacher than somebody’s second-choice wife.”

  “You’re sure about that?” Becky turned a concerned face toward her as they approached the turnoff for the school.

  Susannah nodded. “It’s for the best. All of this has made me realize that I truly have forgiven what happened between us. I can let it go and trust that God has a plan for my life.”

  “I’m sure the gut Lord does have a plan.” Becky negotiated the turn into the school lane, where the snow was banked high on either side by the snowplow. “But you know, maybe Toby is part of that plan. And if he is, don’t let your pride stand in the way.”

  Susannah was still trying to adjust to that startling statement when she saw something equally surprising. The lane was lined on either side with buggies, all the way up to the schoolhouse, where still more ringed the building, giving it the air of being surrounded.

  Her stomach clenched. “Becky, what’s going on? If there’s going to be a school board meeting, I don’t want to have anything to do with it.”

  Becky ignored her, driving the buggy straight up to the door. “It’s not the school board meeting. It’s your scholars. They have a surprise for you.”

  Susannah gripped the edge of the buggy seat. “I don’t want any more surprises.”

  “Now, don’t be foolish,” Becky chided. “You can’t disappoint the kinder. Look, here’s Eli to take you in.”

  Sure enough, her brother was already reaching up to seize her waist and swing her down before she could find words to refuse.

  “Just come along,” Eli said. “There’s nothing to worry about.”

  Becky had already slid down, and she grasped her other arm. “That’s right.” Together they propelled Susannah across the porch and into the school.

  Chapter Ten

  Susannah’s mind seemed to stop working for an instant when she walked inside her classroom. The room was filled with people—so many it seemed the walls would burst from the pressure. Family, neighbors, Bishop John, parents and former students, so many of the scholars who had gone through the Pine Creek School in the past decade. And everyone was smiling.

  Eli and Becky swept her up to her own desk chair, pushed her into it and turned her to face the makeshift stage at the side of the room. It was then that she saw her students, lined up in front of the tall candles Toby had made. The metallic gold paint that formed the flames of the candles seemed to glow, but not more than the faces of the children...the boys in their black pants, white shirts and suspenders, the girls with pristine white aprons over a colorful array of dresses.

  Suddenly the room grew still. Not missing a beat, her scholars spoke together. “Wilkom, Teacher Susannah.”

  She could only smile at them, her eyes misted with tears, as her heart swelled in her chest. For this moment, at least, she was at home.

  Mary Keim stepped forward, her smile seeming perfectly confident. With a quick glance at Bishop John, she spoke.

  “We wilkom all of you, our dear visitors, to the Pine Creek School, for our Christmas program.” She turned, nodded, and the children moved quickly and quietly to their places. Mary slid into a chair placed at the side of the stage, probably so she could prompt anyone who forgot a line, and the program began.

  It was her own program, of course, with every word familiar to her, and yet it seemed to Susannah that it had taken on a special dimension. It was hard to imagine Mary taking control, standing up in front of everyone and looking so composed. She had found the strength she’d been seeking.

  But how had Mary dared to go against her father this way? Surely James Keim didn’t support this idea after he’d expressly forbidden the Christmas program.

  Susannah took a quick glance around the room, searching for Keim, and found him standing at the back corner, his arms crossed over his chest, his expression forbidding. No, he didn’t look as if he’d changed his opinion.

  The first graders came forward, grouped nervously close together, with the twins and Anna holding hands. Their recitation was a simple poem wishing everyone a merry Christmas, and they made it through without a single glance at Mary for help. They closed by inviting everyone to join them in singing Jingle Bells, and the resounding chorus seemed likely to lift the roof off.

  Songs, poems, recitations, skits were done, interspersed with the singing of familiar Christmas carols. The morals were the simple ones that were reiterated year after year in Amish school programs, celebrating the gift of love, the joy of giving, the humility of the believer honoring the birth of Jesus, the Light of the World. Susannah glanced around as the program moved forward, seeing the rapt face
s, the pleased smiles, some apprehension when a child began and the glow when he or she finished.

  Some things never changed. Most of the people in this room would have heard every one of these thoughts expressed at countless Christmas programs, and yet, like the Christmas story itself, they were fresh and new each year.

  The final presentation involved ten students with lighted candles—a process that always filled Susannah with lively apprehension. Becky and Mary moved quickly along the row of children, lighting the white candles they held.

  The poem began, with the ten lights symbolizing ten young Christians. As the words were recited that showed how each one fell short from his or her Christian duty, a flame was extinguished, until only one was left—the one held by young William. His solemn face was pale in the light of his candle as he held it firmly. The rest of the scholars gathered behind him as they spoke of how one person could shine his light so that it reached the world and brought others to Christ. Then William, intent on his task, went to each child, lighting the candles one by one until the room was aglow with their light.

  Mary’s voice lifted in the first line of “This Little Light of Mine,” and the children soon joined in. Susannah suspected there wasn’t a dry eye in the room by then. As they reached the end of the song, they lifted their candles so that the light spilled out over the whole room.

  Zeke, the oldest of the scholars, stepped forward.

  “We just want to add one more thought to our program before it ends. Teacher Susannah has been a light to us. We don’t want to lose her.” He sent a challenging look around the room.

  For an instant there was silence. Then the schoolroom erupted with the sound of applause and murmurs of agreement that became louder and louder.

  Bishop John stepped out to stand by the children. “Denke. We thank you, boys and girls, for showing us so much today. I think we all agree that we don’t want to lose Teacher Susannah because of a foolish misunderstanding.” He looked directly at James Keim.

  Susannah’s breath caught. It was the public confrontation she’d longed to avoid, and yet it had been accomplished in such a lovely and loving way. How would Keim respond?