Amish White Christmas Pie (22 page)

Karen smiled. “Will and I had a good talk this morning, and we’ve agreed to try to keep our focus on each other and set our jealous feelings aside.”

“That’s good to hear.”

Just then Mark stepped into the room. He looked tired, and a deep purple bruise accentuated his slightly swollen forehead.

“How are you feeling this evening?” Regina asked after he’d taken a seat at the table.

“I’m feeling hungry.”

She snickered. “I meant, how’s your head feel?”

“Oh, that. It feels like a woodpecker thought my head was a tree, but I think I’ll live.” He grinned at Karen. “Danki for helping out in the store so my
fraa
could be here hovering over me most of the day.”

“I wasn’t hovering. I was making sure you didn’t do anything you weren’t supposed to do.” Regina opened a cupboard door, took out a small bottle, and handed it to him. “I was also making sure you took some Arnica tablets several times during the day.”

“What’s Arnica used for?” Karen asked.

“It’s a homeopathic remedy that’s used for bruising, pain, and the swelling that accompanies many injuries,” Regina explained. “Arnica lotion can also be rubbed directly on the bruise.”

“I can see there’s much a person needs to know if they’re going to run a health food store,” Karen said. “I always thought it was just about selling vitamins, herbs, and healthy food products.”

“A lot is involved,” Regina agreed. “My folks owned a health food store when I was a girl, and since I got to work there on the days I wasn’t in school, I learned quite a lot. Then after I graduated eighth grade, I worked in the store full-time and learned even more.”

“Would you be willing to teach me about running a health food store?” Karen asked.

“Jah, sure. After you and Will are married, you can work in the store as much as you like. I’d be happy to teach you whatever you need to know.”

“I’d like that.”

Mark popped two Arnica tablets into his mouth and glanced at the back door. “I wonder what’s taking Will so long. He and Nathan ought to be done with the milking by now.”

Regina placed her hand on his shoulder. “Don’t get any ideas about going out to the barn. You’re supposed to stay in the house and rest until the doctor says otherwise.”

“I know, I know.” Mark touched his forehead and winced. “As long as my head continues to hurt, you don’t have to worry about me going back to work.”

The back door squeaked open, and Will stepped into the room. “Brr. It’s mighty cold out,” he said, rubbing his arms.

“Did everything go all right with the milking?” Mark asked.

“It went fine.”

“Did you invite Nathan to join us for supper like I asked you to?” Regina questioned.

“I did, but he said his uncle isn’t feeling well, so he thought he ought to get home and do the evening chores.”

“What’s wrong with Aaron?” Regina’s eyebrows furrowed. “When Susanna was at the hospital with me, she didn’t say anything about her husband being sick. I hope it’s nothing serious.”

“He’s only got a cold. Nathan said he woke up with it this morning.”

“You should have sent Nathan over to the health food store to get some vitamin C and echinacea for his uncle.”

“Nathan and I were both in the health food store before we did the milking, but I didn’t think of suggesting anything that his uncle might take. If I don’t forget, I’ll mention the vitamin and herbs when Nathan comes tomorrow morning to help with the milking.” Will looked over at Karen and smiled. “Did you manage okay at the store after I left to milk the cows?”

She nodded. “There weren’t too many customers, so I did just fine.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“Oh, I almost forgot. Mary Jane’s mother came by the house this afternoon,” Regina said. “She wanted to let me know that Mary Jane’s still down with the flu and won’t be here tomorrow either.”

“I can help again,” Karen was quick to say. “I talked to Mom on the phone during lunch, and she said they can get by without me for the rest of the week if you need my help here.”

“It would be much appreciated.” Regina ladled the stew into a serving bowl and placed it on the table. “Shall we eat?”

Mark nodded. “I thought you’d never ask.”

“Daddy, Kim’s bothering me!”

Frank groaned as he rose from the couch. He’d spent the entire evening refereeing petty squabbles between his daughters when all he’d wanted to do was relax and watch a little TV.

“That’s what I get for agreeing to watch the girls while Megan went to her Bible study,” he mumbled as he climbed the stairs leading to their bedrooms.

He spotted Kim at the top of the stairs, scuttling across the hardwood floor. Carrie was right behind Kim, poking her in the back.

Frank reached out and grabbed Carrie by the arm, and Kim disappeared into her room. “I thought I told you to get ready for bed! Don’t you ever listen to anything I say?” The emotions surging through him defied explanation.

Carrie’s dark eyes filled with tears, and her lower lip trembled.

“Y–you’re hurtin’ me, Daddy.”

He let go of her arm and shook his finger in her face. “I told you and Kim to brush your teeth and get ready for bed half an hour ago, and you’re not even in your pajamas yet!”

Carrie’s shoulders shook as she buried her face in her hands.

“Don’t start crying on me now.” He smacked his hands together, and she jumped. “Go to your room and get ready for bed!”

“Please don’t yell anymore,” Carrie whimpered. “I’ll be good; I promise.” She slunk off to her room, sniffling all the way.

With an exasperated grunt, Frank tromped down the stairs. As he flopped onto the couch, an image from the past rose in his mind….

Tears streamed down Frank’s face as his thoughts returned to the present. He’d spent most of his childhood hating and living in fear of his father. When Frank’s mother had died of cancer soon after his seventeenth birthday, Frank had left home and struck out on his own, never to return. He’d seen his dad’s obituary in the paper a few years later but felt no sorrow that Pop was gone. He’d vowed never to be like his dad, but seeing how Carrie had reacted to his display of temper made Frank realize that if he wasn’t careful to keep a lid on his temper, he could end up following in his dad’s footsteps.

Frank didn’t want his girls to live in fear the way he had as a child. In the six years he’d raised Will, he’d never struck the boy. But tonight, standing in the hallway with Carrie, he’d had to fight for control.

He felt remorse for making Carrie fearful in his presence, and the pain of his harsh words washed over him like a wave of fire. He needed to apologize and make things right between them. And he needed to do it now.

Frank rose from the couch and headed upstairs. He found Carrie in her room, dressed in her pajamas, sprawled out on her bed, sobbing like her little heart would break in two.

He sat beside her and took hold of her hand. “I’m sorry, Carrie. I didn’t mean to yell like that.”

“I–I’m sorry, Daddy.” She sniffed a couple of times. “I should’ve listened when you told me to get ready for bed.”

Frank gathered the child in his arms. “I love you, sweetie.”

“I love you, too.”

As Frank rocked his daughter back and forth, his thoughts went to Will.
Did Regina and Mark Stoltzfus comfort my boy over the years, the way I’m doing with Carrie right now? Maybe Will was better off growing up with the Amish couple as his parents than he would have been if he’d stayed with me
.

When Megan entered the living room, she found Frank slouched on the sofa with his head resting in his hands. The TV was off. Something must be wrong.

She took a seat on the end of the sofa. “What’s the matter, Frank? Are you feeling all right?”

He lifted his head and looked at her with a vacant stare.

A feeling of trepidation crept up her spine. Something
was
wrong. She touched his leg. “What is it, Frank?”

He blinked a couple of times, as though coming out of a trance. “Don’t ever ask me to watch the girls again. I can’t be trusted.”

Megan’s heart leaped into her throat. “Did something happen to Carrie or Kim?”

He shook his head. “No, but it could have.”

“You’re scaring me, Frank. What happened while I was gone?”

“I told them several times to get ready for bed, but they kept playing and fussing at each other.” He paused and drew in a quick breath. “When I went upstairs to check on things, I…I almost hit Carrie.”

“You mean you wanted to give her a spanking?”

“No, I wanted to slap her face or shake some sense into her head.” His shoulders slumped, and he buried his face in his hands.

Megan knelt on the floor in front of him. “You’re not the only parent who’s ever felt like slapping his child. And sometimes, when an act of disobedience has occurred, a correctly applied spanking might be necessary.”

“I realize that, but I’m afraid I might not be able to control my temper if I dole out any kind of corporal punishment.” He groaned. “I’m afraid I’ll become an abusive father like my dad was to me.”