Jo Brown - An Amish Christmas Promise

“No, it’s not. Today is October twenty-fifth, so Christmas is exactly two months away.” Holding up two fingers, he lowered first one, then the other. “One-two. See? Quick like a bunny.”

“That’s what Mommy says. Quick like a bunny!” Rose Anne bounced with excitement. “Mr. Michael knows quick like a bunny, too.”

“I know.” As the little girl danced and twirled along the hall, Carolyn asked, “‘Mr. Michael?’”

“One of the ladies working at supper last night called me that, and the kids started using it.”

“You’re good with children. Do you have any?”

“No, but my brother has year-old twins, and there are plenty of kids in our settlement.” He surveyed the hall before adding, “My brother has his life set for him...as you do.”

She was amazed at his wistful tone. Michael had seemed so sure of himself. Was there a tragedy in his past, too, or did he have another reason to envy his brother’s choices in life?

The woman who’d stood by the gym doors came out and called, “Carolyn Wiebe? They’re ready for you.”

A shiver of anxiety trilled down her back, but Carolyn stood. When Rose Anne rushed to her side, she wasn’t sure if the little girl was aware of her agitation or wanted a change of scenery after exploring every inch of the hall. Carolyn glanced at Michael who’d gotten up, too, and she knew she wasn’t hiding her nerves from him.

But he didn’t offer her trite consolation. Instead, he motioned for her to lead the way.

In the gym, four round tables with plenty of chairs had been placed between the two sets of bleachers. Mats remained under the basketball hoops. Rose Anne took off her shoes and ran to join the other children playing on them.

“The kinder are having gut fun,” Michael said as the woman led them toward the most distant table.

Carolyn recognized fellow residents who’d lost their homes, and she guessed the others were volunteers like Michael and his friends. To avoid any chance of eavesdropping on their conversations, she replied, “The kids are having more fun now than we had the first night after the flood. For lots of us, those mats were our beds. We were so exhausted we would have slept on the wood floor.”

“Glen,” the woman with the clipboard said, “here’s your client. Carolyn Wiebe.”

Trying not to bristle at the woman’s tone that suggested Carolyn was an unworthy charity case, she was glad when the woman walked away.

“I’m Glen Landis,” said the man who was as thin as the hair across his pate. “The project director.”

“We’ve met,” Carolyn replied, pulling her tattered composure around her like a comfortable blanket. “About a year and a half ago, you came to speak at the Evergreen Corners Mennonite Meetinghouse about your experiences.”

“In the recovery efforts after Hurricanes Katrina and Harvey?” He smiled as Michael’s two friends jogged across the gym to join them. From his speech, she’d learned he considered rebuilding homes and communities his mission work. “Those were overwhelming experiences. I’ve been told you’ve met some of the people who’ll be working on your house.”

“I’ve met Benjamin, James and Michael.” She looked at each man as she said his name. Only belatedly did she realize how foolish she’d been to speak Michael’s name last. Without an excuse to shift away, her gaze lingered on him.

Michael gave her a bolstering smile, and she wished she could fling her arms around him as Rose Anne had. She hadn’t realized how much she needed someone’s support.

“Here comes the rest of the crew,” Glen said, motioning for everyone to take a seat.

He went around the table, introducing each person. Art Kennel was the man who looked like a jolly grandfather. Jose Lopez was almost as lanky as Glen and taller. The sole woman was Trisha Lehman. She had the same no-nonsense air about her as the woman by the door, but her smile put Carolyn at ease.

After leading them in prayer to thank God for His grace in bringing them together, Glen pulled a stack of pages stapled on one side out of a briefcase by his chair. He put them in front of Carolyn.

“This is our standard house plan.” He glanced around the table. “Several of you have already built one or more of these houses. If you haven’t or you want to examine the plans more closely, get a copy from me after this meeting.”

She stared at the simple house with a living room, kitchen, a bath and two bedrooms. It wasn’t as big as her previous house, but it would be more than sufficient for what she and the children needed.

As if she’d spoken aloud, Glen said, “Carolyn, if you see things you want to have changed, now is the time to tell us.”

“What sort of things?” She thought of the house the water had taken from her. That rundown house had been their home, something that couldn’t be drawn on paper.

“I know you have two children, a girl and a boy. If you want a third bedroom, so each child may have their own—something I’ve been told by my own kids is an absolute necessity—we can add one. It’s possible to get a second bathroom, but it’ll depend on the amount of money raised through donors and what you can contribute.”

“Definitely the extra bedroom, but one bathroom will suffice.”

“That we should be able to provide within the budget we’ve been given.” He opened a bright blue folder and wrote some notes before launching into an explanation of what each of the six pages in the plans contained.

Carolyn tried to take in the information on septic systems and wells and the required number of electric outlets and where a stackable washer and dryer could be put if she wanted to keep the coat closet by the front door and a linen cupboard in the bathroom. Her head spun with numbers and dimensions, and she was relieved when Glen reassured her they’d be revisiting the plans every day on the work site and once a week in the gym.

“The first supplies will be delivered this afternoon,” he announced as he refolded the plans. “We hope to start on your house within days. It’ll depend on the weather, of course.”

“I understand.” Looking around the table, she said, “Thank you, everyone. Your kindness humbles me. You make me want to live Hebrews 13:2 ‘Be not forgetful to entertain strangers: for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.’ My door will always be open to you.” She laughed. “Once I have a door, that is.”

The others joined in her laughter, and Michael took her hand under the table and squeezed it. A sense of comfort filled her at his compassion.

“Oh, one more thing,” Glen said. “We’ve asked the press to stay away, but we hope you’ll agree to a short interview, Carolyn, after we have the blessing for your new home. We’ve found seeing how others have worked with us leads to more people offering to volunteer. Everyone wants to be part of a happy ending to what started out as a sad story.”

Carolyn stiffened. “An interview?”

“Nothing complicated. A short film to put on our website to show donors how they’ve helped.”

Horror pulsed through every vein in her body, like the flood waters closing in around her again, only this time with fire atop of the rushing waves. She shook her head.

“Is that a problem?” asked Glen.

She pushed back her chair. “If doing an interview is a condition for your help, I can’t do this.”

“You don’t want our help?”

Wishing she didn’t have to see the shock on these kind faces, she wondered how much more appalled they’d be if she told them the truth of why she was turning down their offer. Would any of them have been able to comprehend the depth of fear stalking her in the form of Leland Reber?