Patricia Davids - Amish Christmas Twins

Her eyes drifted closed. She barely noticed when John’s mother came back into the room. “Bring her, John, she’s too worn-out to walk.”

John lifted Willa in his arms. She wanted to protest, but she didn’t have the strength. Her head lolled against his shoulder. For the first time in months, she felt truly safe, but it was only an illusion. Someone wanted to steal her daughters away. She was their only protection. She couldn’t let down her guard.

* * *

John waited until his mother pulled back the covers, then he laid Willa gently on the bed in the guest room and took a step back. He hooked his thumbs through his suspenders, feeling ill at ease and restless. This woman brought out his protective instincts and he didn’t want to feel responsible for her or for her children. He needed to get back to work. The forge would be cooling by now. He’d have to fire it up again. More time and fuel wasted.

His mother began removing Willa’s shoes. “What did she say about pretending to be Amish?”

“She said she was raised Amish but her parents left the church. She wants to return and raise her children in our faith.”

“Then we must do what we can for her. Does she have people nearby?”

“Near Hope Springs, I think. That’s where she was heading.”

“That is a long trip from here with such little ones. Joshua Bowman’s wife, Mary, is from there. Perhaps they know each other. Did you tell her she was welcome to spend the night with us?”

“Nee. I did not, and why should I? She wants to leave.” He didn’t want them here another hour, let alone overnight.

His mother made shooing motions with her hands. “Your work will keep, but go if you must. I will see to her. You can keep the kinder occupied for me. Outside is best, for I want this young mother to get plenty of rest. I am worried about her babe.”

He took a quick step back from the bed. “You think she might give birth here?”

“If the bobli wants to come, nothing we do or say will stop it, but there is no sense hurrying his or her arrival for lack of a little rest. Go along. You won’t be any help if she does go into labor.”

She was right about that. He was a volunteer firefighter along with many of his neighbors, but running into a burning house was not as scary as a woman giving birth. “Call me if you need me.”

“I can handle this. Get out from underfoot.”

Mamm was a tiny thing and crippled with arthritis that twisted her hands, but she was still a force to be reckoned with when she set her mind to something.

He found the twins sitting at the table in the kitchen. They watched him warily. He could see subtle differences in their features, but he wasn’t sure which was which. Both of them were without their kapps. “Come outside and help me with my chores. Your mother is taking a nap.”

“Will we see a cow?” The girl closest to him asked.

“Which one are you?”

“Told you. I’m Lucy.”

“That’s right, you did.”

Her sister licked a smear of jam from the back of her hand. “Cows yucky. I’m this many.” She held up three fingers.

Lucy nodded and folded her fingers into the correct number. “I’m this many.”

Megan pointed to him. “How old are you?”

“Older than all your fingers and toes together.”

“I can count. One, two, four, five, three.” Lucy ticked off each finger.

“That’s very good. Put on your coats. Would you like to feed the goats?”

“Same as at the zoo?” Lucy nodded vigorously.

John had no idea how they fed goats at a zoo, but he figured it couldn’t be much different than what he did. He helped Lucy into her coat.

Megan pulled away from him when he tried to help her. “I can do it.”

She got her coat on but couldn’t manage the buttons. It was getting cold outside, so he buttoned her coat in spite of her protests and held open the door for them when he was done. Megan hung back until Lucy went out, then she hurried after her sister.

“Where’s my horsey? Give him back.” Megan narrowed her eyes as she looked up at him. She pointed to her mother’s buggy sitting beside the barn. He’d fetched it after his mother arrived home and stabled the tired horse.

“I didn’t steal her. She is resting in the barn just as your mother is resting in the house.”

“What’s a barn?” Lucy waited for his answer.

“That big red building.”

He figured that was enough information. He was wrong. He wasn’t prepared for the barrage of questions a pair of three-year-olds could ask, but he soon learned their curiosity was endless. Most of the time he understood only half of what they were chattering about and he couldn’t keep the two of them straight when they darted every which way so quickly.

“Why are cows brown?”

“God made them that color.”

“What do cows eat?”

“Hay.” He forked some over the stall to his milk cow Maybell.

“What’s hay?”

“Dried grass.”

“You have a funny hat, Johnjohn.”

“It’s just John.”

“Can cow come in the house?” one asked.

He quickly shook his head. “Nee, the cow can’t come in the house.”

The other child parked her hands on her hips. “Cow come with me!”

“No,” he repeated sternly.

A mutinous expression appeared on her face and she shook a finger at him. “Don’t tell me no!”

He leaned down to look into her eyes. “No!”

Tears welled up and quickly spilled down her cheeks. “You bad man.”

He raised his eyes to the barn ceiling. How did they know at this young age that tears could turn a man’s resolve into putty? “I am not bringing a cow into the house.”

“I see kitty,” one said and ran toward the yellow tabby perched on the window ledge.

Her sister’s tears vanished, and she went running toward the animal, too. The cat didn’t care for the sudden attention. She jumped down and scampered out the door.

Both children turned toward him. One scowled. “Kitty ran ’way.”

“I don’t blame her. I’d like to do that myself.” He decided the frowning one was Megan and decided to test his theory. “Megan, do you like goats?”

She nodded. Okay, he had that right. “Come, we will feed them now.”

He gave each child a pail of grain. His small herd crowded around the children, eager to reach the feed. Lucy petted the head of each goat that came to investigate her. “Me like goats.”

“They can’t come in the house,” he said quickly to forestall another episode of tears.

“Okeydokey,” Lucy said.

“Where did you girls come from?” he asked, hoping to get more information about them.

Lucy pointed toward the road.

“What town did you come from?” he asked to be more specific. He was more curious about their pretty mother than he cared to admit.

Megan sighed deeply. “Our town.”

Lucy’s lower lip trembled. “Me want to sleep in my bed.”

“You will sleep in a warm bed tonight, I promise.” He laid a hand on her head. To his surprise, she wrapped her arms around his legs.

She looked up at him. “You nice, Johnjohn.”

“No! Bad man,” Megan yelled. She yanked Lucy away from him, making Lucy wince at the tight grip on her arm.

John leaned down to frown at Megan. “That was unkind. You must tell your shveshtah you are sorry and ask her forgiveness.”

For a second he thought she would defy him, but she put her arms around Lucy and pulled her close. “I’m sorry.”

Lucy pulled away and sniffled. “It’s okay.”

John stood up straight. “Goot. Your family is second only to God in your life. You must care for each other always. Let’s go milk the cow. Maybe your mother will be awake by then and I can get back to work.” His first order of business was to see what was wrong with the rear wheels of their buggy. His mother was insistent that they stay overnight, but he wanted them on their way first thing tomorrow.