An Amish Christmas (8 page)

From the front door he could see trestle tables had been lined along the kitchen walls, around three sides of the living room and even into an adjoining bedroom.

The bride and groom sat in one corner of the living room in view of everyone. Katie sat at Elam’s left hand. Young women filled the tables around the couple and sat with their backs to the walls while the young men sat on the opposite side of the table facing the girls.

The tables didn’t contain flowers. Rather, stalks of celery had been placed in glass jars as decoration. Candy dishes, beautiful cakes and large bowls of fruit completed the simple but festive array. John searched for Karen in the rooms but didn’t see her anywhere.

Doctor White glanced at John. “Shall we start by asking the women in the kitchen if they know you?”

John’s eyes were drawn to the bride and groom and the loving looks they exchanged as they visited with their friends.

He nodded toward them. “No. This is their day. I don’t want to take anything away from them. We can speak to people outside after the meal is done.”

The doctor gave John a smile of approval. “All right.”

A strapping Amish man with a clean-shaven face approached them. He introduced himself as Adam Troyer and asked them to follow him. He seated them at one of the bedroom tables where Amber and a tall, handsome man already faced each other.

The man with Amber rose and held out his hand. His resemblance to Harold was unmistakable. He said, “You must be John. I’m Dr. Phillip White and this old rascal is my grandfather.” He clapped Harold on the shoulder.

“Who you calling old?” Harold grumbled.

“Behave,” Amber warned them both with a hard look.

The men grinned at each other, but took their seats. Amber and Phillip already had their food. John and Harold didn’t have to wait long. In another minute, a petite woman came in with a plate loaded with roast chicken and duck, mashed potatoes, dressing and creamed celery. She set the dish in front of Harold. John recognized her as the woman who ran the inn. She set down a second plate loaded with cookies and slices of cake.

Harold said, “Thank you, Emma. I hear the wedding was held in your home.”

“
Ja,
Katie has no family here so we are her family now.” She smiled at John. “Your plate is coming.”

“I have it here.”

John looked over his shoulder to see Karen bearing a pair of plates for him. When she set them down, his eyes grew round. “You don’t expect me to eat all that, do you?”

“I do, and you will have more later. No one leaves an Amish wedding hungry.”

He pushed the dessert plate toward her. “At least help me with this.”

She patted her slender waist. “I ate before the wedding party arrived so that I could help serve today. I must get back to work. More guests will begin arriving shortly.”

Emma said, “Why don’t you take a short break? Ruby and I can handle serving for a little while. I’m sure Mr. Doe has questions about our customs. I will bring you a cup of tea.”

Karen grinned. “Then I will happily cover for your break when I am done here. You may tell Adam Troyer I won’t be long. I’m sure he is ready for a break, too.”

Emma’s flushed cheeks turned an even brighter red. She left the table without another word.

“So that’s the way the wind is blowing,” Harold said with a chuckle. “I wondered why Adam was always at the inn. I thought surely there couldn’t be that much work for a handyman to do around the place.”

Emma returned with a cup of hot tea for Karen but didn’t linger. Karen took a sip, then filched a cookie from John’s plate. John leaned toward her. “Should I go wish the bride and groom happy before I eat?”

Karen shook her head. “No congratulations are given at an Amish wedding. It is taken for granted that Elam and Katie have found the partner chosen by God for them. We have no divorce so marriage is forever. Today is a happy but serious day.”

In the living room, a young man with curly brown hair rose to his feet and spoke in Pennsylvania Dutch.

Dr. White said, “The first round of eating is almost over. It’s time for the singing to start.”

John sent Karen an inquisitive glance. “The first round of eating?”

“
Ja,
we will start the wedding supper in an hour or so.
Many of the older guests will leave soon, but the young people will stay. There will be much visiting and even games out in the barn.”

Around the tables, guests were bringing out their songbooks. The curly-headed young man, in a beautiful voice, started the hymn, and soon all joined in except the bride and groom. There was no accompanying music, just a moving blend of dozens of voices.

Karen asked, “Do you recognize the melody or the words?”

Was that worry he saw in her eyes? Why would she be concerned if he knew the song? He shook his head. “No, it’s not familiar.”

She seemed to relax. At least she gave him a half smile before joining in the hymn. Her sweet alto was pleasing to his ear. Once again he felt a deep pull of attraction toward Karen, something he couldn’t put his finger on but something he wanted to hold on to. Each day he spent with her those feelings deepened.

He counted her among his very few friends. He wasn’t sure she would appreciate how often he thought of her not as a friend but as a woman.

When the first song was done, a young woman stood to announce a second song. She then led the congregation. Her voice, pure and light as sunshine, flowed around the room. He listened more closely. There was something deeply familiar in her voice. Had he heard her before?

W
hen the song ended, John touched Karen’s arm and gestured toward the singer. “Who is that woman?”

“That is Sarah Wyse, why?”

“She has a beautiful voice. Could I have heard her before?”

“Where?”

“I have no idea. Does she live near you?”

“Not far. She lives just at the edge of Hope Springs. Her husband ran a harness shop. He passed away three years ago from cancer. She works in the fabric store now.”

“It’s strange. I just think I’ve heard her voice be fore.”

“I will see if she will talk to you when the singing is done.” Karen stayed for one more hymn and then returned to her duties serving the guests.

When John had eaten his fill, he excused himself from the table and walked outside. Uncertain of how to introduce himself to the Amish and uncomfortable at being an outsider at a wedding feast, he stood alone on the porch gathering his courage. The door opened and Nettie bustled out with a large pan full of dishes.

Catching sight of him, she stopped and settled her load on one hip. “Have you had enough to eat, Mr. Doe?”

“More than enough. Thank you. Why are you working? Shouldn’t you be inside enjoying your son’s wedding day?”

“The parents of the bride and groom receive no special treatment on this day. It is my job to supervise the kitchen and make sure everything runs smoothly. That is my gift to my son and my new daughter. And you, Mr. Doe, you wish to speak to some of our guests, do you not?”

“I thought I did but I didn’t realize I would feel so awkward about it.”

She looked over to the men gathered near the barn. “Do not feel awkward. Let me get someone to take you around and introduce you.”

Waving her hand toward them, she called to Eli Imhoff. “Eli, come here.”

He crossed the yard with quick steps. “What do you need, Nettie?”

John couldn’t help but notice the soft look that passed between them or how the color bloomed in Nettie’s cheeks. She said, “John wishes to be introduced to some of our guests. I have not the time. Can you escort him for me?”

Eli nodded. “It was my intention to do so.”

As Nettie carried her pan to the washing tubs, Eli followed her with his eyes. John said, “She has been very kind.”

“
Ja,
she is a
goot
woman.”

The door to the house opened. Several Amish couples came out followed by Harold. The elderly doctor pulled a roll of antacid tablets from his pocket. “I knew I was
going to need these. The food is always so good but so rich.”

He offered some to John and Eli. John declined but Eli accepted them. Dr. White said, “How is the arm, Eli?”

“Old bones heal slow.”

“Tell me about it.” Harold rubbed his thigh.

Eli jerked his head toward the barn. “Let us see if any one recognizes John Doe.”

Harold said, “Amber and Karen are asking around inside. I thought the women would be more comfortable talking to them.”

John followed the men through the maze of buggies to the barn. Inside, youngsters were engaged in games and chatting in groups. He caught sight of Jacob and several of his friends looking down from the hayloft. He was surprised to see the young men were much older than Jacob. The boy’s friends were staring at John with outright curiosity and snickering.

Eli asked for everyone’s attention, speaking English out of deference to John and Harold. He briefly explained John’s situation and asked if anyone knew him or had seen him before. John scanned the faces of the young men and women looking for signs of recognition. The only one he knew was the freckle-faced redheaded young woman he’d met several days before.

Sally, that was her name. He smiled and nodded to her. Her eyes widened. She spoke to her friends and then hurried past him back toward the house.

He followed Eli and Harold from group to group speaking to elderly couples, young parents with children and teenagers that had paired off and were enjoying the social event. Each time he met with expressions of compassion but no concrete information.

Giving up for the moment, John excused himself from
the older man and returned to the house. Something in Sally’s expression stayed with him. He wanted a chance to talk to her in private but didn’t know how that would be possible. He was about to open the door when Karen came out with Sarah Wyse, the singer, by her side.

Karen stopped in surprise when she saw John in front of her. “We were just coming to find you. John, this is Sarah Wyse.”

The way his eyes roved over Sarah’s face sent a prickle of envy through Karen. Immediately, she chided herself for allowing such emotion to taint the day. Sarah was pretty. The young men had flocked around her when she and Karen had been in school together, but none of that had gone to Sarah’s head. She remained a devout member of the church in spite of all the heartache in her life.

John said, “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Wyse. I wanted to compliment you on your beautiful singing voice.”

Sarah glanced from Karen back to John. “Compliments are not needed. All gifts come from God. We do not seek honors or to stand apart from each other.”

“I’m sorry,” John said, “I did not mean to offend you.”

“No offense was taken. Karen says you have some questions for me.”

The three of them moved to the end of the porch so they weren’t blocking the flow of traffic in and out of the house. John said, “I don’t know how to say this, but your voice sounds familiar to me. Is there any way I could have heard you singing before?”

“Not unless you have heard me as one of many voices praising God in song during our church services.”

He heaved a tired sigh. “I was afraid you were going to say that.”

“I wish I could be more help. I will inquire about you when people come to my shop. We have townspeople, Amish and tourists in.”

John said, “I’ll ask the sheriff to send over one of the photographs he had taken of me.”

The women exchanged glances, then Karen said, “Sarah would not be able to show it. We consider photographs of people to be graven images. They are forbidden.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” He looked embarrassed.

Karen couldn’t help herself. She poked his shoulder. “Oh, John, you don’t know your name, you don’t know about the Amish and photographs, what do you know?”

“Karen!” Sarah looked aghast.

John looked shocked for a full second then he threw back his head and laughed. “I know if I go back in the house someone is going to try and make me eat more. I’m still stuffed to the gills.”

Relieved to see him more comfortable, Karen said, “Then you had best go walk up an appetite because supper will get under way in about an hour.”

Sarah said, “Mr. Doe, I can’t use a photograph but if someone were to sketch your face I could use that.”

Nodding Karen said, “That is a
goot
idea. Sally Yoder has a fine hand with pencils. Perhaps she could draw his picture.”

John asked, “Is she the one with red hair and freckles?”

“Ja.”
Karen looked around. “I saw her a few moments ago.”

Sarah said, “I saw her go upstairs with Katie and
the baby. I will ask her if she would do a sketch of you. Provided her parents do not object. If she may, I will let you know.”

“I appreciate your help, Sarah. Thank you. And even if compliments are not permitted, I still say you sing like an angel.”

Her smile turned sad. “You should have heard my sister sing. She is the one with the voice of an angel.”

John waited until Sarah disappeared into the house then he turned his attention to Karen. “What did she mean about her sister?”

“Sarah has a twin sister. Bethany left here a month after Sarah’s husband died. She wrote Sarah a letter telling her she had to go away but gave no other explanation. No one has heard from her in three years. Most think she ran away with an
Englischer.
It broke Sarah’s heart.”

“I see. Well, I should let you get back to work.”

Karen didn’t want to leave him. She wanted to stay and find some way to make him laugh again. The sound made her heart light. It made her want to laugh out loud with him.

With a start, she realized what was happening. She was getting in over her head. When had she started to care so deeply for John?

Perhaps the moment she saw him lying in the ditch. Embarrassed by the flood of feelings she couldn’t control she took a step back. “
Ja,
I must go.”

He raised his hand but let it drop quickly to his side. “I guess I’ll see you when you get home.”

“It will be very late. We will have much cleaning up to do here.”

“I don’t mind staying up.” He smiled softly at her and left the porch to rejoin the men standing by Harold’s car.

Late that evening, John sat outside on the
dawdy haus
porch with his feet propped up on the rail and his hands shoved deep in the pockets of his coat. The cold night air was a reminder that winter would come roaring in soon.

What was he doing? He was waiting to get in trouble, that’s what.

The lights in the main house had been off for hours. The Imhoffs were normally early to bed and early to rise, but Karen had not yet returned from the wedding supper. Was she visiting with the women or was there a man in her life? Some tall, sturdy Amish farmer who would give her a dozen children and a lifetime of hard work?

John wanted to hope that was true, but even more he hoped it wasn’t.

The clatter of horse hooves on the lane finally announced her return. John rose to his feet but hesitated. What right did he have to engage Karen’s affections? The answer was abundantly clear. He had no business seeking time alone with her.

Even as his thoughts formed, his feet were moving toward the barn where she was unhitching the buggy. She saw him coming. She stood waiting, not speaking. He knew words would only sound artificial. Instead, he began unharnessing the horse, happy to be doing a simple thing for her.

Working in silence, they soon completed the task and led Molly to her stall. Karen lit a lantern so he could see to brush the mare down. He made quick work of it while Karen forked hay into the stall. When the mare was settled, they closed her stall door, put out the lantern and walked side-by-side out of the barn.

At the porch steps they paused by unspoken consent. Karen sat down, drawing her coat tighter. John sat beside her staring up into the night sky. A million twinkling stars decorated the black heavens with breathtaking beauty.

She pointed over the barn. “Look, there is a falling star. You should make a wish.”

Hunching his shoulders, he shook his head. “I don’t believe in wishing.”

“Why not?”

He gazed at her intently. “What good does it do to want a thing you cannot have?”

She drew the edges of her coat closer together. “When we say we wish the rain would stop, or we wish the sun would shine, or we wish you could remember, are these wishes not simply little prayers?”

“I guess they are.”

“Don’t you believe in the power of prayer?”

“Anna told me once that you remind her to pray. Are you trying to remind me now?”

“It is something we all need to do.”

He leaned back and braced his elbows on the step behind him. “I don’t remember how to pray. If I ever knew.”

“But you did. The day I found you, you began the Twenty-third Psalm. I’ve prayed it with you.”

“You did? I wish I could remember that.” He drank in the beauty of her face in the starlight, gathering in every detail to save in his memory. This night was one he never wanted to forget.

He leaned toward her. Uncertainty clouded her eyes and she looked away.

He drew a deep breath and leaned his head back. “I don’t remember the stars looking this beautiful.”

“Perhaps you lived in a city where the stars could not be seen.”

“Maybe.” John shook his head. “I don’t know, they just don’t seem right.”

She looked up. “What could be wrong with the wondrous night sky God has given us? I see nothing wrong with the stars. What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. I look up and I think something is missing.”

“The moon is not yet up. Perhaps that is what’s missing.”

He watched her intently. “Maybe the stars look wrong because they pale in comparison to your eyes.”

“Please don’t.” She dropped her gaze to stare at the ground.

“I’m sorry.” He’d meant every word, but he was sorry to cause her any distress. “You’re forgiven.”

“I’m not sure I want to be forgiven for telling you what a beautiful person you are. I don’t mean just beautiful on the outside, although you are. I mean you’re beautiful on the inside.”

She raised her gaze to his. “You told me that once before. That I was beautiful. The day I found you. Before the ambulance came.”

“Did you believe me then?”

“I did,” she answered quietly.

“And do you believe me now?” He held his breath waiting for her answer.

“This is foolishness.” She surged to her feet and started to go inside but he caught her arm.

“Please don’t go. We’ll talk about something else. We’ll pretend we’re two old friends having a pleasant visit. You are my only friend, you know.”

She studied his face. “I know I am now, but you have other friends who are looking for you. You are not a man who cuts himself off from others. They will find you.”

“And what if they don’t? What if no one is looking for me? What if I’ll always be alone?” He couldn’t stop the quiver in his voice. The fear and the loneliness bottled up inside rose to choke him.

She reached out to cup his face. “Do not give up hope.”

Closing his eyes he covered her hands with his own and pressed them against his face, feeling the warmth and the strength and the compassion in her touch. Unbidden, a tear slipped from the corner of his eye.

Suddenly her arms were around him and she was holding him tight. “Be not afraid, John Doe, for God is with you. You are never alone.”

Wrapping his arms around her, he leaned into her strength. She comforted him as if he were a child, murmuring soft sounds of reassurance. He tried to choke back his tears, but it was no use.