Patricia Davids - An Amish Wife For Christmas

Was he talking about the small cabin that sat at the back of her property? Her grandfather had mentioned readying it for a tenant before he became ill, but she didn’t know if he had finished the repairs. Besides, she wasn’t ready to host a lodger. Nor did she want to leave Michael Shetler like this. He appeared dazed and lost. Her heart went out to him.

“You should speak to our bishop, Elmer Schultz. I’m sure he can help. He won’t be at home this time of day, but I can give you a ride to his place of business.”

“It seems I don’t have much choice. Danki. ”

Michael slowly climbed into the passenger seat. Bethany walked around the back and got in on the driver’s side. She picked up the reins. “The school is about three miles from here.”

“I thought we were going to the bishop’s place of business.”

“We are but I must stop at the school first. I hope you don’t mind.”

“As long as I don’t have to walk three miles I don’t mind.”

From the corner of her eye Bethany noticed him rubbing his leg frequently. It must pain him a great deal. This close to him she noticed the dark circles under his eyes, as if he hadn’t slept well. He was pale, too. She sat silent for the first half mile of their trip but her curiosity about Michael got the better of her. “Where are you from?”

“My family lives in Holmes County, Ohio. My father and brother have a construction business in Sugarcreek.”

“Did you work in construction with them?”

“Nee.” He didn’t elaborate.

“I’ve heard that’s a large Amish community. Do you have a lot of tourists who visit there?”

“We do.”

“Like where I am from. Bird-in-Hand, Pennsylvania. My grandfather wanted to start a community that wasn’t dependent on tourism. Don’t get me wrong, he knew how important the industry is to many Amish who can’t make a living farming, but it wasn’t the lifestyle he wanted to live.”

Michael pulled his coat tighter. “There had to be warmer places to settle.”

She chuckled as she looked out over the snow-covered fields that flanked the road. “The coldest part of the winter has yet to come.”

“So why here?”

“The price of land and the ability to purchase farms large enough to support big families were more of a consideration than the weather. Plus, we were warmly welcomed by the people here. Many local families have been here for generations. They like the idea that we want to be here and farm for generations, too. A lot of the elders in the community remember farming with horses when they were children. Folks are very independent minded in Maine. They know what hard work is. When someone has to sell farmland they would rather sell it to the Amish because we will live on it and farm it as their grandparents did. They consider it preferable to selling to a large farming corporation intent on grabbing up as much land as possible.”

“What do you grow here besides snowdrifts?”

She smiled. “Potatoes. Maine is the third-largest producer of potatoes in the United States. Broccoli grows well in the cool climate as do many other vegetables.”

“As long as you don’t get an early freeze.”

“That’s true of farming in Ohio or almost anywhere.”

“I guess you’re right about that.”

The main highway followed the curve of the river and after another mile Fort Craig came into view. Bethany turned off the highway into a residential area at the outskirts of town. The elementary school was located in a cul-de-sac at the end of the street.

As she drew the horse to a stop in front of the school she noticed several of the classes were out at recess. She stepped down from the buggy and caught sight of her sister, Jenny, playing with several other girls on the swings. Jenny spotted her and ran over. “Sister, what are you doing here?”

“I’ve come to speak to Ivan. Did he get on the bus with you this morning?”

Jenny shook her head. “ Nee , he said Jeffrey’s mom was going to bring him to school.”

“And did she?”

“I don’t know. Sister, I have wunderbar goot news.”

Bethany crouched to meet Jenny’s gaze. “Have you seen Ivan today?”

Jenny screwed up her face as she concentrated. “I don’t think so. You should ask his teacher.”

Bethany stood upright. “That’s exactly what I plan to do.”

“Don’t you want to hear my news?”

“In a minute.”

Jenny’s happy expression faded. Michael got out of the buggy. He took several stiff steps. “I just need to stretch my legs a little.”

“Who is that?” Jenny asked in a loud whisper.

Bethany was inpatient to find Ivan but she made the introduction. “This is Michael Shetler. He’s a newcomer. This is my sister, Jenny.”

He nodded toward her. “I’m pleased to meet you, Jenny. I’d love to hear your news.”

“You would?” Jenny asked hopefully.

“Sure. It must be important. You look ready to burst.”

Jenny smiled from ear to ear. “I got picked to be in the community Christmas play. I’m going to be the aerator.”

Bethany looked at Michael. He returned her questioning gaze and shook his head slightly. Jenny was bouncing up and down with happiness.

Bethany smiled at her. “That is wunderbar . What does the aerator do?”

“I get to tell everyone the Christmas story in English and in Pennsylvania Dutch while the other kids act out the scenes. Ivan is going to sing a song by himself.”

From the corner of her eye, Bethany saw Michael rub a hand across his mouth to hide a grin. Bethany was afraid she’d start laughing if she looked at him again. Learning English as a second language was difficult for many Amish children who spoke only Pennsylvania Dutch until they started school. “I’m sure you will make a goot narrator if you practice hard.”

“I’ll practice lots and lots if you help me.”

“You know I will.”

“I need to have an angel costume, too. I’m going to be an angel aerator.”

“Angel narrator ,” Michael corrected her in a gentle tone.

“Narrator,” Jenny replied slowly. He nodded and she grinned at him.

Bethany patted her sister’s head. “We’ll talk about it when you come home from school this evening.”

“Okay.” Jenny took off to rejoin her friends.

“Cute kid,” Michael said, still grinning. “How many siblings do you have?”

“Just Jenny and Ivan. Excuse me while I check on him.” Bethany headed through the front doors of the school. She found the eighth-grade room and looked in through the open door. Ivan wasn’t in his seat. His best friend, Jeffrey, was missing, too.

A bell sounded in the empty hall, startling her. The boys and girls in the room filed to the back to gather their coats, mittens and hats from hooks before rushing past her to get outside. After the last child exited the room Bethany stepped inside. “Ms. Kenworthy, may I have a word with you?”

The teacher looked up from her desk. “Miss Martin, of course. Do come in. I was just getting ready to write a note to you.”

“About Ivan?”

“Yes. I hope he is feeling better. He’s missed almost an entire week of school. I have a list of homework assignments for him to complete and hand in when he returns.”

Bethany’s heart sank. “My brother is not sick at home.”

“I see.” Ms. Kenworthy opened a desk drawer and pulled out a sheet of notebook paper. “Then I assume you did not write this note?”

Bethany removed her gloves, took the note and quickly scanned it. It informed Ms. Kenworthy that Ivan would be out of school for a week due to his illness. It was signed with her name. Bethany sighed heavily and handed the letter back. “I did not write this. It is not my signature.”