Amish Christmas Joy. Patricia Davids
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rumbled, closer now. Her smile vanished. She glanced fearfully at the window. “I don’t like thunder.”
“Don’t worry, it’ll be gone soon.”
She gave him a hard look. “Promise?”
“I promise.”
“Can we have pizza tomorrow?”
Where would she be tomorrow? “You’ll have to ask your mom.”
“Okay.” She yawned widely.
He might as well get her settled. He wasn’t going to send her and her mother out into the storm. Valerie had a lot more explaining to do. He gathered the bedding and soon had Joy tucked up snugly on his sofa. She was asleep in less than a minute. He bent and brushed her hair back from her face.
A special child was given for a special reason. What reason could God have for sending Joy to him?
She was a sweet kid, but was she his sweet kid? There was testing for this kind of situation. He would insist on it. Val was up to something. He settled in his recliner and waited for her to return.
Three hours later, the storm had moved on. Morning sunlight crept in beneath the window shade. Caleb rose from the chair and opened the front door for the umpteenth time. Birds twittered in the dripping trees. The walkway and street out front were glistening wet and deserted.
Valerie hadn’t come back.
He heard a noise behind him. Turning, he saw Joy standing beside the couch. “Where’s my mama?”
“I wish I knew.”
Fear darkened her eyes. “I want my mama.”
“Hey, it’s okay.” He started toward her without a clue what to do next.
She backed away. “I gotta find her.”
She darted around him and ran barefoot out the door toward the street, with Caleb close on her heels.
* * *
Leah Belier added a box of crayons to her basket as she shopped with her friend Joann Weaver in the small grocery store in the village of Hope Springs, Ohio.
“Are you taking up art in your spare time?” Joann asked with a grin.
“Nee. I noticed Emmy Chupp borrowing colors from the other students this afternoon. She loves to draw. I think she has used up the ones her mother sent with her at the beginning of the school year. I decided to get her some more.”
“For Christmas?”
“That’s still four weeks away. She needs them now. I’ll get her colored pencils as a Christmas gift.”
“That’s sweet of you. How is her father getting along? I heard he broke his leg.”
“He hasn’t been able to work at the lumberyard for several weeks. Honestly, I’m worried about the family. Emmy didn’t bring any lunch today. She told me she forgot it at home.”
“Knowing you, I expect she ate your lunch, and you went hungry.”
Leah chuckled. “It wouldn’t hurt me to miss a meal or two, but I always bring extra food just in case.”
She had shared her ample sandwich with Emmy and made a mental note to check in on the family tomorrow. As the teacher at the local Amish school, Leah kept a close eye on all her students. She was in a better position than most to see where trouble was brewing.
A new box of twenty-four crayons would cheer the shy child who liked to draw. Leah added some peanut butter and jelly to her basket. A few extra groceries might come in handy with lunches. If it looked as if they needed more help, she would let Bishop Zook know. No man’s family went hungry in their Amish community. Caring for one another was a duty, not a chore.
She carried her purchases to the front of the store. The Englisch owner, Mr. McGregor, ran her items over the scanner. A big bear of a man with thick, curly gray hair, a wide smile and a booming voice, he and his tiny wife were longtime fixtures in Hope Springs.
“Afternoon, ladies. I hope all of you plan to come to the Christmas parade. Since this is our first year, we want it to be a success. My kids are building a float for the store. Should be grand.”
“We are looking forward to it,” Joann said.
“Mrs. Weaver, the printing job you did on the flyers for our dented-canned-goods sale was great. Lots of people came, not just the Amish.”
Joann blushed. “Miller Press is happy to serve all those in our community, Amish and non-Amish alike. I will tell my husband you were pleased.”
Joann and her new husband, Roman Weaver, both worked at his uncle’s printing business.
“Good. Leah, my wife and I were just saying how much we’re looking forward to your school Christmas program this year. Are the children getting excited?”
“Indeed they are. You and your wife are always welcome.”
“My wife had the lights and decorations up the minute Thanksgiving was over, but it’s watching your Amish students put on their plays and sing their songs so wonderfully that brings the true meaning of Christmas to my heart.”
“I’m glad, for that is the purpose of our program.”
“Remind your students to come to the Christmas parade. We want the kids to enjoy it, too.”
“I will.”
“Why, I remember the Christmas little Anna Imhoff stood so straight and tall and recited her poem with such a big grin on her face at your school. That was the year they found John Doe beaten half to death on the Imhoff farm. Course, he was really Jonathan Dresher, but he didn’t know his own name for weeks. Ain’t it strange the ways the Lord finds to test us?” He stopped with her last item in his hand and stared into space.
“It is, indeed.” She really needed to be going. She had a long walk home before dark.
“Anna sure took a shine to Jonathan. Happy thing, him marrying her sister, Karen. Yup, that was a mighty special Christmas.”
“Ja, it was.” Joann winked at Leah. Mr. McGregor loved to recount his stories regardless of the number of times his customers had heard them.
The outside door opened, and Leah saw an Englisch fellow come in. There was something vaguely familiar about him. He glanced her way.
Her breath caught in her throat. It couldn’t be Caleb Mast, could it?
He turned down the collar of his coat and headed to the back of the store without any hint that he recognized her.
“Leah, is something wrong?” Joann gave her a funny look.
“Did you see the man who just walked in?”
“Nee.” Joann looked toward the back of the store.
“I think it was Caleb Mast.” Leah was almost sure of it.
“Really? I wonder what he’s doing in Hope Springs after all this time. How long has it been?”
Leah knew exactly how long he had been gone. Nine years ago this month she was to have married his brother, Wayne. Then Caleb ruined everything.
Mr. McGregor rang up the rest of Leah’s order. “How did that poem go again? ‘On a night so bitter and dark, in a land far, far away, a tiny child was born and laid in a manger of hay.’ Is that how it went?”
Her gaze followed Caleb. He was searching for something in the cookie aisle. Why was he back? Had he come to regret his break with his family and his faith?
He glanced her way. She realized she was staring and quickly looked down. What would she do if he spoke to her?
Nothing. Ignore him. There wasn’t anything to say. The past couldn’t be changed. Maybe he hadn’t