Merry's Christmas: Two Book Set (Amish) (25 page)

Gently, Ivan took the purse from her. “There. I have it.” He set the bag on the capstone of the stair rail. Systematically, he began to remove its contents.

Hope fidgeted. How could any woman be comfortable with her ex going through her purse? Not that there was anything in there a grown man hadn’t seen before. But still.

“Is it so hard for you to need someone?”

Hope exhaled. This was frustrating. He was not going to make this easy. “I never said I didn’t need anyone.”

Ivan pulled out her wallet and set it down. “Not in so many words. But you are pushing me away.”

“No, Ivan. You were pushing me. It was all too fast. There’s a difference.”

Ivan raised his hands. “So, I stop pushing. I am just here.”

Hope drew her open coat around her middle. “For the next month or so. Shouldn’t you be out speed dating or something?”

Ivan shook his head as he fished her keys from her bag. No doubt, he had caught her drift. He dangled her keys before her, holding her gaze. “If a month is all the time I have left, I choose to spend that month with you.”

ten

I
t was ironic, really. At least Charity thought so. There they were in Aunt Hope’s New York City apartment—right in the middle of the English world—but you would never have known it based on what the four of them were doing that evening. There was no television set on, no clacking of a computer keyboard, not even a cell phone in use. Oddly, it was as if they were back home, enjoying the homespun activities of Amish Country.

As she let down the hem of the waitress uniform Frank had said she’d have to wear, Daniel fine-tuned the carving on his horse and buggy toy for his brother. Leanne sat nearby, doing a very nice job of painting holly on Aunt Hope’s new white cast. Hope curled up under one of her quilts, sipping a cup of hot cider.

Leanne dipped her brush into scarlet paint, then dotted it to add berries between the prickly green leaves. The plaster of the cast drank in the vibrant paint colors readily. Leanne glanced sidelong at Charity. “I don’t see why you’re lettin’ that hem down. If you ask me, you’d get a lot better tips leavin’ it shorter.”

And suddenly, they were back in Manhattan.

Charity continued to whipstitch the lengthened hem. “Maybe, but...well, I guess I’m just more comfortable with it this way.”

Hope observed Leanne’s artistry on her cast.  “You watch. I’ll fill that tip jar in no time with this baby. Serving up the tea, raking in the sympathy.”

Leanne blew the paint dry. “How you gonna write your orders?”

“Not sure. Right-handed scrawl, I guess,” Hope countered.

Leanne scooted closer. “I knew a guy once who could write with his toes.”

“Quite a talent, but....” Hope admired her cast. “See, now, I think you’ve been holding out on me.”

Strange. If Charity hadn’t been looking right at Leanne, she might well have missed it. But an almost guilty look flickered across Leanne’s face.

“What do you mean?” Leanne scowled.

Hope smiled broadly. “Look how you can paint. And completely freehand. You’re really good.”

Leanne dipped her brush back into the paint. She seemed to relax again. “Last spring, me and Reggie painted the backdrop for our school play. Did the whole thing by our lonesomes, up real late and all. It’s kinda how I got this whole beached whale look goin’.”

English girls sure didn’t hold back. Charity exchanged a glance with Daniel. Conversation was quite a bit more frank in the city, she supposed. From the expression on Daniel’s face, she could tell that he agreed.

It wasn’t so much that situations like this didn’t occur among the Amish. Charity had known more than one girl who had taken the license of Rumspringa and found herself in Leanne’s condition. Like Daniel’s cousin, Lydia. Pregnancy just wasn’t something they really talked about, at least not so openly. Never in mixed company.

Hope scratched under the end of her cast. “This Reggie...he’s the guy?”

Leanne shrugged. “Yeah, but...he don’t know it. Never paid no mind to me after that night anyways. Daddy didn’t like the looks of him from the start. So, he was just as glad we quit hangin’ out. My parents are way old-school that way, you know? They don’t get it that nobody waits anymore.”

Hope cut a glance at Charity and Daniel. “Some people still wait.”

Leanne rolled her eyes. “I mean normal people. No offense, but can we just put it on the table here that the whole Amish dealio is a little behind the beat? Kind of out there?”

Hope shot Leanne a reproving look. “Leanne...”

“Well, it is,” Leanne blurted. “I betcha good money right here and now that the two of you, you probably haven’t even kissed.”

Charity felt a blush rise to her cheeks. She ventured a look at Daniel. How would he respond?

Hope leaned toward Leanne. “That’s kind of not our business.”

Daniel took Leanne’s comment in stride. “There’s nothing that says that Amish couples can’t kiss during Rumspringa.”

Leanne’s eyes narrowed. “Rum what?”

“Rumspringa. That’s what we’re on, now,” Daniel explained. “Before we commit to being Amish, we’re allowed to experience the world.”

Leanne took it in, a smirk forming. “So, are you saying that you two have experienced the world of kissing?”

Daniel glanced Charity’s way. A shy twinkle lit in his eyes. “I’m saying that what does or doesn’t happen between Charity and me...it’s up to Charity and me to decide when we’d like to share it.”

Charity breathed a contented sigh. Daniel was so discreet. It also hadn’t escaped her notice that he’d referred to them as a couple. Indirectly, at least. Myrna had called them a couple in front of the whole congregation that morning, but now Daniel had. She turned the idea over in her mind as she unwound a new length of thread, her heart warming with a memory. “You make me think of Dat, Leanne. That’s what I call my father. When I was little, Dat taught me how to make this pie. It’s so sweet and smells so good that they call it Shoo-fly Pie.”

Leanne scrunched her brow. “And this applies to my smoochin’ question exactly how?”

Charity snipped her thread from the spool. “When it comes to private subjects, Dat has this way of talking about one thing when he really means something else.”

Aunt Hope snickered. “You noticed that, too?”

Nimbly, Charity threaded her needle, knotting the end with one hand. “First pie I made, Dat had me serve, piping hot, right alongside the cabbage and smoked turkey we were having. You know how cabbage smells, and I could hardly even get a whiff of the turkey. But that pie...it has all this gooey dark molasses and brown sugar. And the aroma of that pie, it wafted right over everything else on the table.”

Aunt Hope inhaled. “Sounds heavenly.”

Charity sighed, recalling the aroma. “Of course, Dat, he saw me eyeing that piece of pie. He told me it was my choice. I could eat it first, if I wanted. I admit I started to, but when I was just about to take a bite, he got that little smile Dat sometimes gets. You know, Aunt Hope?”

“Sure do,” she smiled.

Charity resituated the uniform. “Anyway, what Dat told me was that the pie would taste even sweeter if I saved it for the right time.”

Aunt Hope nodded with recognition. “Same way Oma introduced ‘the talk’ to Nathan and me. Only it was rhubarb pie. Nathan was very big on rhubarb.”

Charity glowed. “Still is.”

Leanne kept on painting, a vexed expression wrinkling on her lips. “Well, you know, your whole waitin’ bit, that’s real folksy and all, but I still think it’s weird.”

Mercifully, silence reigned. What more could be said? What a relief to just return to her hemming. With each stitch, Charity continued to ruminate on the conversation. Daniel certainly had been quick to state his view that kissing was permissible during Rumspringa. Yes, he had held her hand—more than once, now—but he had not so much as grazed her cheek with his lips. There had certainly been plenty of opportunity, but he had not taken it.

She stole a glance at his face. What would it be like if he ever expressed his heart to her in that way?  Would he ask first? Would he simply draw her close? How it would come to be, she didn’t know. The only thing she was certain of was that she was finally allowing herself to feel that pull of desire.

Charity helped Aunt Hope dab her face dry with a soft terry towel. Even simple tasks presented a new challenge with only one good arm to use.

“Guess I’ll have to get the hang of doing all kinds of things right-handed,” Aunt Hope supposed. She attempted to hang the damp towel on the bathroom bar. “Sorry about that whole inquisition in there. I know how it feels to be put on the spot.”

Charity reached over to help pull the towel through for her. “It’s okay. I’m not ashamed of who we are.”

Aunt Hope caught Charity’s eye in the mirror. “I guess the truth is that I have been. Not ashamed so much as... I don’t know. I’ve only hinted about it to Ivan. Must be some reason I never told people out here who I was.”

Charity turned away from the mirror to Aunt Hope’s face. “You say
was
. But it’s still who you are, Aunt Hope. You’re still a part of us. That is, if you want to be.”

Aunt Hope leaned against the bathroom counter thoughtfully. “With you here, I feel that, but most of the time, especially at this time of year, it’s... I’m like Leanne said. I’m kind of out there.”

It pained her to see the bittersweet sadness in Aunt Hope’s eyes, but in a way, Charity thanked Gott for it. It provided the opening she needed. She could finally say what had been rumbling around in her mind all evening. “You know, I saw some rhubarb at the market today. It’s out of season for us, so Dat would never expect it. But we could surprise him for Christmas dinner.”

Aunt Hope lit up. “You would take it to him for me?”

Ever so gently
, Charity thought. “Well, I could, and I would, but... Oh, Aunt Hope, just think how much better it could be if we took it to him. Together.”

Aunt Hope drew back. “Oh, wow. Wouldn’t that be amazing?” Chagrinned, she held up her brightly painted cast. “Of course, this cast isn’t exactly the plainest thing.”

Charity’s heart swelled. Clearly, Aunt Hope was actually entertaining the idea. “Can you imagine their faces if we rode up together with his favorite pie? And Opa...Opa would cry he’d be so thrilled.”

Aunt Hope’s face slowly fell. “Ah, Charity... Honey, it’s—”

Charity quickly raised a hand. “Don’t say no, yet. Please. Just wait. Give it time. Think about it.”

Aunt Hope dropped her head. “Okay, but—”

“Promise me. Just that you’ll think.”

Aunt Hope seemed to ponder it skeptically. “Just think.”

“Just live with the idea for a while yet,” Charity suggested.

As Daniel piled a stack of linens on the sofa, Charity dropped to her knees. A few of his curly wood shavings had fallen to the floor.

Daniel tucked a pillow into a cotton case. “I’ll get that.”

“It’s no bother.”

“I know,” Daniel answered. “That’s one of the things I love about you.”

What did he just say?

Tossing the shavings into a waste can, Charity let Daniel’s words echo in her mind. Saying that he loved things about her was not so very far from saying that he loved her. She nudged him playfully. “One of the things?”

Daniel set the pillow aside. He sat on the sofa and patted the cushion beside him. “I suppose there are others yet.”

Charity eased onto the sofa beside Daniel. “You suppose?”

“I suppose.” Daniel put a finger to his lips, then took Charity’s hand. “Come with me.”

“Now? Where?”

Daniel led Charity to Hope’s door. He grabbed her cape off the hook and draped it around her shoulders. “Shhh... I want to show you something.”

Hand in hand, Daniel led Charity up the two additional flights of stairs to the top of the building. Her heart rose with each step, as light as a feather. Where was he taking her? 

“I found this earlier, while you were making supper.” Daniel opened the steel door on the upper landing, and led her out to the flat rooftop. “Okay, use your imagination. Look past the air conditioner. And beyond the electrical box there. Look way up, above all the buildings and the city lights. Pretend the glow is...like it’s a reflection of what’s above it. Just look up, at the stars.”

Charity took into the crisp night air. She tilted her face up to drink in the twinkling heavens. “
Ja
, well... Look at that. Same sky, huh?”

“So it is.”

“It’s almost like we’re back where we belong.”

Daniel returned an inviting smile. “That’s what I thought, too.” He brushed back a lock of hair that had escaped Charity’s kapp. His fingers lingered on her cheek, so affectionately, before returning to his side.

Charity blushed. It was hard to know just what to say. “She’s thinking about coming home with us, you know.”

“Really?”

Charity nodded. “She promised. Just to think, but it’s a start.”

Daniel was visibly pleased. “That, it is.”

Charity whispered with a conspiratorial chuckle. “I felt like Dat, putting the pie out in front of her. We’ll just let her look at it for a while yet. Take in that scent of home.”