Merry's Christmas: Two Book Set (Amish) (19 page)

Charity bore down to unscrew the lid from a canning jar. It was rusty and would need to be replaced, but the glass jar could be used again. Putting up preserves was an everyday job this time of year, so it was always nice to have Bethany there to help. Beyond the fruit to be peeled and processed, there were always the jars to be sterilized, filled, and labeled for market.

As Charity checked the seal on their cooling preserves, she also kept an eye outside her kitchen window. Aaron and Isaac were in the yard, dutifully chopping and stacking hewn wood, but it was her father’s and grandfather’s return in their buggy that made her so restless. She’d hardly been able to think of another thing since they’d left to take her question before the church leadership. Now, here they were, back again.

They would likely have a decision.

Bethany joined her at the window. “How does he look to you?”

Charity strained to interpret the expression on Dat’s face, even while he was still at a distance outside. “Hard to tell.” There were times she was so thankful for her brothers, and this was one of them.  “Good. They’re helping Dat with the buggy. He’s coming this way.”

As her father headed toward the house, Charity turned to Bethany. “He has an answer. He must. Bethany, you know I dearly love your company, but will you please go for a little while?  He’ll only tell me in private.”

Bethany wiped her hands. “But then you have to promise you’ll tell me.”

Charity brushed Bethany’s shoulder. “Every word.”

Satisfied, Bethany snatched a stack of jar labels, stuck them into her pocket and headed for the door. She reached it just as Dat swung it open.

Dat removed his hat and hung it on its peg by the entry. “Leaving so early in the day, Bethany?”

Bethany snatched her bonnet and tied her cape loosely at her throat. “To get more labels. I should have thought to bring more.” In a moment, Bethany was gone. She closed the door behind herself, leaving Charity alone with her father.

Everything in Charity wanted burst with the question. What had happened? She focused her attention on her work as Dat took off his coat and hung it. It would not serve her to rush him.

Finally, he turned. He approached the kitchen counter where she was working. “I suppose you would like to know what was said.”

She rubbed her hands dry on her apron.  “I would.”

Nathan pulled out a chair for her. “Sit down, Daughter.”

Obediently, Charity took a seat across from her father. He remained silent for a while, a thoughtful expression in his eyes.

“There was no small discussion,” he started. “There are those, like your grandfather and me. We have our fears yet. But the church has no restrictions about what a young person is allowed to do on Rumspringa. Even if it comes to sin.” Dat laced his fingers loosely and rested them on the table. “The bishop said that putting up boundaries conflicts with what Rumspringa is about. True enough, most stay here for singings and such. It is not encouraged, but still, he said that if a young person wants to go out among the Englishers for a while, no one should get in the way. Then, a free choice can be made between the English way of life and ours.” 

Charity measured her words. “So there would be no limits, even when it comes to traveling to see a shunned person, out in the English world.”

Thoughtfully, her father sat back. “Caleb Beachey had a mind for that.”

“And Opa?”

Dat paused, his brow lightly knitted. “We Amish shun many things the English world accepts, things we pray you will not choose, even when you have the chance.”

Charity searched Dat’s face. “And so...?”

He ran his fingers through his graying beard. “So, they have left it to me.”

“I see.” Never once had Charity known Dat to go against the most conservative suggestions of their leadership. What she hadn’t expected was that they would have put the decision back into his lap. Something in her hesitated. Should she inquire further? She straightened in her seat and gathered her resolve. “Have you made a decision?”

Dat’s chest filled and emptied. Like always, his face exuded authority. “I have two conditions for you. There is no time that my sister misses us like Christmas. That is when you would be most likely to get her to come back with you, now-once. If I give you my blessing to go, would you promise to be home by Christmas?”

Charity heart skipped a beat. “Oh, Dat... I could never miss Christmas with you. I could be back in time to make Christmas dinner, with Aunt Hope here to help me.”  

Dat’s face still looked so sober. “
Ja
, well... I pray that she will. Now, I am also concerned that you not go alone. The city is a dangerous place.”  

She could scarcely believe it. He was going to let her go. She couldn’t help bubbling over. “Bethany would come. She’s still on Rumspringa. She’s seen the city. We could ride the train together.”

Her father raised a patient hand. “I know that Bethany is your dearest friend, but I am of a mind that you go with someone else.”

“Oh?”

“I have spoken to Daniel.” 

Charity felt her mouth drop. She put a hand to her upturned lips. “Daniel. Is he willing?”

Dat nodded, a hint of a smile forming. “If you are.”

Once Dat made a decision, he was not one to dawdle about setting matters into motion. As Charity cleaned up from lunch, she watched outside the kitchen window. Indeed, Dat had gotten her brothers to help him bring the horse and buggy out from the barn once again. He strode across the yard toward the house.

Dat didn’t make much of things. He didn’t announce his plans in advance. That wasn’t his nature. He simply opened the kitchen door and asked her to put on her cape and bonnet. They would be going into town, that very afternoon, to make arrangements for her trip.

Little was said as they traversed the road into town. Her father preferred it that way. In a way, she did, too. It gave her time to think and pray about all that was unfolding.

A car horn tooted twice from behind them. Jarred, Charity craned around to check. “I suppose they want to pass.”

Dat held his ground. “We give way to the Englishers in their world. They should do as much in ours.” A few seconds later, he guided their buggy off to the right. Dat was like that. He’d say something, and then in time, he’d think better of it. It was one of the things she admired about him.

Charity watched in silence as the automobile zoomed past. A boy in the rear seat turned back and waved. Before she knew it he had raised a camera.  Instinctively, she drew up her apron to cover her face till the car was well out of sight. The challenges of venturing into the English world were always there. She would have to be prepared.

Before Charity knew it, they were seated across from a travel agent in town. She tried her best not to stare. Still, there were some things she couldn’t help but notice. The woman’s hair was bobbed quite short, framing darkly painted eyes. Burgundy lipstick encircled impossibly white teeth. Freshly polished nails danced across the computer keyboard, clicking with every stroke. Charity took it all in, then reminded herself not to judge the woman. Like a cool breeze, a thought wafted over her.
Was this what her Aunt Hope would look like after so many years in the city?

Dat did most of the talking. He bought two roundtrip train tickets to New York City’s Penn Station. Charity’s eyes widened when he scheduled their departure for the third of December.

Tomorrow.

In the morning, she’d get on the first train with Daniel. There would be twenty-one days—three full weeks to persuade her Aunt Hope to return home with them on Christmas Eve.

What an adventure was ahead of her. Never in her life had she known anyone in her family to take the train or even to visit the station. Trains were a modern-day convenience they’d never had need of before. But it was a very long way to New York City, much farther than could be managed by horse and buggy. 

Under his breath, Dat counted as he laid out cash to cover the charges. The agent rose and excused herself to get a receipt. 

Gratitude swelled in Charity. “Such a nice, long trip, Dat. Can you do without me so long?”

Dat eased back into his chair. “When a tree has sunken its roots deep into a place, it cannot be uprooted overnight. The soil must be watered. It must be loosened, ever so gently, doncha know. That will take every bit of this time.”

When the next day dawned, Bethany joined the Bright family on the train platform to see Charity and Daniel off for their trip. Bethany seemed almost as excited about it as she was. It was far from Charity’s purpose to explore the world. That might be what Rumspringa was about for Bethany, but not for Charity. What that flutter in her heart was, she wasn’t sure. Maybe it was about going on this journey with Daniel. Maybe it was the thought that, soon, she would meet her Aunt Hope. Maybe it was both.

Charity turned to her twin brothers. “Can you survive Dat’s cooking for a few weeks?”

Aaron feigned distress. “If I have to.”

“You could always learn yourselves,” Charity teased.

“Just come home soon,” Isaac added. 

Bethany squeezed Charity tight, whispering, with an eye toward Daniel. “What I would not give to be in your place.  But still, I am so happy for you.  Promise to remember every tiny detail for me?”

Charity grasped Bethany’s hands in hers. “Everything,” she promised. As she approached, Charity couldn’t help but overhear the words that passed between Daniel and her father.

“You will bring her home to me safely,” Dat said. “By the twenty-fourth.”

Daniel nodded. “You have my word.”

Charity turned to Opa. It was easy to tell that, of all the family, her grandfather was the most uncomfortable in this contemporary setting. Though a few of their Old Order had slowly begun to embrace certain aspects of modern life, he stood firmly with Dat in support of the overwhelmingly conservative majority. She embraced him lovingly. “
Aufweidersehen
, Opa.”

“I am not sure this is wise,” he murmured.

Charity gazed into his troubled face. “Then pray for me, Opa. Pray that I will be strong.”

“I will,” he assured. “I will not stop until I meet you here again.”

Charity’s eyes filled as she turned to her father. “Dat...”

With a soft smile, he took Aunt Hope’s unopened Christmas card from his coat pocket and handed it to Charity.

She glanced at the card, and then kissed his cheek. “Thank you for trusting me with this. This is such a gift to me, Dat, but I hope it will end up being a gift to us all.”

Dat nodded, his eyes intent. He took her in his arms. “Gott go with you.”

A final boarding call sounded. The time had come. Charity and Daniel hurried toward the train. No sooner than they had stowed their bags and taken their seats, the doors closed and the train began to pull away.

From her window, Charity could see them all. Bethany waved furiously. Aaron and Isaac were rapt at the wonder of the train. Dat stood straight, but for a consoling arm that he draped across Opa’s shoulders. It seemed that Opa was more than a little concerned to see her go. Deep in her heart, Charity made a promise. She would allay their fears. Soon, she would return to them, once and for all.

five

T
he strains of a Yuletide noel resounded within Manhattan’s Café Troubadour. Hope’s alto rang out in counterpoint to Myrna’s soulful mezzo-soprano.

“I heard the bells on Christmas Day

Their old familiar carols play,

And wild and sweet,

The words repeat

Of peace on earth,

Good will to men...”

Seated at the piano on the café’s stage, Shep accompanied Myrna and Hope, his assistance dog curled at his feet. Shep never ceased to amaze Hope. What a wonder it was that, though blind all of his life, Shep’s fingers found their way across the keys with such artistry.

As they finished the carol, a smattering of diners applauded. She had to admit it. That always felt good. Shep segued into a holiday medley. Hope gave his shoulders an appreciative squeeze.

Myrna clicked off the microphone, and turned to Shep. “Thanks, Baby Doll.”

Continuing to play, Shep grinned widely. “You two just make me sound good.”

As they stepped off the stage, Hope took Myrna’s arm and led her aside, into the ladies’ locker room. Calling it a locker room might have been overstating the case. It was more like an employees’ restroom with some tall metal cabinets set inside.

Hope opened her locker. She could only pray that the pseudo-lemony scent of industrial-strength bathroom disinfectant hadn’t completely permeated the dress she’d brought. “You got this for an hour or so?”

A knowing twinkle lit in Myrna’s eyes. “Sure.  You tell Mr. Fancy Pants Broadway Director that if he don’t hire you, he’s got me to reckon with.”

“Should set me apart.” Hope untied her apron.  There was always something about putting on the right clothes that helped Hope start to feel less like a waitress and more like the character.

Myrna reached for Hope’s uniform. “Lemme hang all this.”

That was Myrna. Always eager to help. In a flash, Hope’s uniform was stowed. She slipped the soft red chemise over her head, then pulled her hair down from its chignon. She fluffed it loosely around her shoulders and checked her lipstick in the mirror.  What a great opportunity this was. It was amazing that her agent had even gotten her the call.

Myrna took a step back. “Look at you, Girl. Mmm!”

“You think?” Hope kicked off her comfy-soled waitress shoes and replaced them with a stylish little pair of black flats. The transformation complete, she headed for the door.

Myrna followed. She squeezed Hope’s arm as they walked back through to the restaurant’s service floor. “Shoulders back, Baby. He won’t even know what hit him once you step up!”

Café regular “Goldie” Goldstone grumbled to Hope as she passed. “Are we completely forgetting about my double mocha decaf latte with whipped?” The man was as gaudily attired as he was cynical. A greased comb-over failed to cover the bald spot at his crown.

Myrna stepped to Goldie’s side. “Now, you tell me why you can’t stomach one morning with me making it for you.” Myrna motioned to Hope. “Go on, break a leg, Honey. I’ll take care of Goldie.”

Sourly scanning his paper, Goldie retorted to Myrna, loud enough for Hope to hear. “And exactly what makes her think this will be different from the last hundred-fifty failed auditions?” 

Myrna patted Goldie on his high-maintenance back. “Christmas is coming, Goldie. Have a little faith.”

Relieved, Hope blew Myrna a grateful kiss and sailed out of the door.

Charity drank in the passing scenery. The train glided along the tracks to New York smoothly, much more so than she’d anticipated. Sometimes, it didn’t seem like the train itself was moving at all, only the ever-changing landscape.

Daniel sat engrossed, studying the map of Manhattan the travel agent had provided. He wanted to make sure he knew exactly where they were going, she supposed. Already, he’d found where the train would let them off at Penn Station. He’d also located the address of Aunt Hope’s apartment, just a mile’s walk away. Charity was glad they’d be able to get around the city on foot. Trains were one thing. Cars and subways, she could do without.

Charity watched Daniel as he jotted down directions from the map. He really was taking the responsibility of escorting her to the city seriously. He also seemed to be enjoying it, at least so far. Never had they spent so much time together, not by themselves.

For a while, Charity tried to think of what she might say to him, but in time she relaxed into quiet fascination at their surroundings. It wasn’t just the change from the gently rolling hills of Pennsylvania to the looming skyscrapers of Manhattan that set Charity’s mind to thinking. It was the people and the way that, the closer they got to Penn Station, the more crowded and moody their train car became.

With every passing stop, Charity observed each person, young and old, who boarded. Trips to the market on the outskirts of town had done little to prepare her for so many different walks of life. Actually, though she did her best to be discreet, she couldn’t help but notice the stares that she, herself, drew. Reflexively, she straightened the ribbons of her kapp.

Daniel leaned over toward Charity. He lowered his voice. “Don’t let them make you feel self-conscious.”

Charity dropped her eyes. How was it that he’d known what she’d been thinking? “No, it’s just...  Perhaps without my Mamm’s kapp I would draw less attention.”

Daniel smiled at her admiringly. “It’s not the covering that makes them stare, Charity. You are quite beautiful.”

Charity blushed. Never had she heard such a compliment. How should she respond to him? To accept his words felt prideful, but to discount them seemed unappreciative. Finally, she opted to just change the subject. “New York City must be such an expensive place to live alone. I wonder if my Aunt Hope got married...or has children.”

“Her name is still Bright on the envelope.”  

“I hear some don’t take a married name.”

Daniel raised his brow thoughtfully. “Well, if she is married or has a family, getting her to come home could be that much more of a challenge.”

“They could all come.”

“They could,” he supposed. “But would they?”

Charity bolstered her resolve. “She writes every Christmas because something in her still wants to come home. We have to believe that.”

As she emerged from the busy train station with Daniel, Charity’s chest tightened. Car horns blared. Men with shrill whistles hailed taxis. Widespread pedestrian traffic contributed to the cacophony. It was unlike anything she’d ever seen or heard.

A raggedly dressed woman pushed a shopping cart toward them. It was filled to the brim with all kinds of things. The woman passed by, raging at an unseen foe. “You shut up! Shut your hideous mouth.  You just talk, talk, talk, and you think for a second anybody’s listening to you?” 

Charity slowed. She looked back briefly, but Daniel kept walking them forward. It seemed impossible to take it all in all at once. The sights, the sounds, the smells... Sensory overload, really. She had heard about what life was like in the city, but nothing had prepared her for the reality before her. Neon lights glowed, even though the sun was still shining. Glitzy decorations were in storefront after storefront. There were men dressed as Santa, plastic reindeer, and sparkling Christmas balls the size of hay bales. What she didn’t see was a sign of anything that had any connection with what Christmas was really all about. At least to them.

Daniel checked over at her as they waited at a crosswalk. Again, she offered to carry her own bag. Once again, he declined.

“You all right?” he asked.

Charity turned to him. “Yes. It’s just a lot, much more than I had imagined. 

Leanne exited the security door of Hope’s building. Wouldn’t you know it? She was just in time to find Hope’s old boyfriend, Ivan, there ringing the bell.

What was he doing there? Hope had said they were over. She shut the door protectively. “She’s not home, Ivan. You know she works. I gotta go, too.”

“I thought with her audition she might—”

Leanne rolled her eyes. What did he want from her? “So, go to the theater. Maybe you can catch her leavin’. Anyway, I was under the impression that you two were kind of kaputski.”

A lovelorn look crossed Ivan’s face. “Is that what she said?”

Leanne glanced at her watch. How had the entire morning gotten away from her? “Look, I’m already late and Frank gets way cranky about that. Maybe you should take this up with someone who gives a rip.”

She blew by him to descend the stairs. That’s when she saw them. At the bottom of the steps stood a young couple seriously in need of an extreme makeover. Though they didn’t appear to be much older than she was, the way they were dressed, they might as well have been from another century. Come to think of it, the girl looked a little like one of those people at the airport who was always asking for money.

The guy spoke. “Hello. I’m Daniel. I’m with, uh...Charity, here—”

Leanne threw up her hands as she descended the stairs. She put on her best foreign accent. “No charity. No speak-a de Eng-leesh.”

“Excuse me, Miss,” the young woman said. “Could you please—”

Leanne blew out an exasperated breath. She opened her coat to display her protruding belly. “Sorry, but do I look like I’ve got somethin’ here to donate?”

“No, no, we’re not collecting,” she explained. “My name is Charity. I believe my Aunt Hope lives in this building.” Charity checked the green envelope in her hand. “Yes. This is the address. Do you know Hope Bright?”