Merry's Christmas: Two Book Set (Amish) (26 page)

Daniel stood silently for a moment, looking full into Charity’s face. “You know what’s home to me?”

“What?”

“You are, Charity. You have been for so long.”

“Daniel...”

“Shhh...” Daniel took Charity’s hand. Charity accepted it, savoring his touch. He looked down at their interlaced fingers, then back into her face. “It’s not just that I love things about you, Charity. I love you. I think I always have.”

Tears brimmed in Charity’s eyes. Never had she heard words like this. She raised Daniel’s hand to her face, and then brushed it with her lips.

It was impossible to miss the longing in his eyes.

“Dat was right,” Charity smiled. “It’s all the sweeter when you wait.”

“Charity... We don’t have to prove anything to any—”

Gently, Charity put a finger to his lips. “Shhh...” She stroked his handsome face. The sight of him took her breath away. Her heartbeat quickened as he quietly held her gaze.

To be sure, she had waited a long time for this moment. Now that it had come, it caught her completely by surprise. She’d always wondered how it would be, how she should receive something as intimate as a first kiss. But suddenly, at the deepest part of her, she found an undeniable desire to give that gift to him. Initiating didn’t seem so Amish. No, not at all. But under the glorious starlight of Gott’s heaven, it did feel completely right.

She searched Daniel’s eyes. They were filled with that same longing she felt, but his posture remained respectful. He was waiting for her to be ready.

At the core of her being, she knew that she was.

Slowly, she drew Daniel close, and into an exquisitely tender kiss. Years of yearning poured from her. His lips were so receptive. So soft and expressive. It was almost...well, it was as if they were communicating in a language that neither of them had ever known. All sense of time vanished. When they parted, neither spoke. They just stood, washed in wonder, bathed in the glow of the night.

As Charity pulled back the covers, Aunt Hope marked her place in the play she was reading. She set it aside, rose from her chair, and flicked off the light.

Charity climbed into bed. “If you’d like to keep that lamp on to read, I don’t mind.”

Aunt Hope sat on the bed. “That’s okay. I know how that play ends. Very Greek. And I suppose I have enough tragedy in my life.”

Aunt Hope had definitely known tragedy. How difficult it must have been to lose her closest friend—Charity’s own mother—in childbirth. “Dat always says that you cannot appreciate joy until you have shed many tears.”

Aunt Hope ran her fingers along the holly on her cast. “Nathan knows what it’s like to lose someone you’ve loved.”

“He does.” It was a truth Charity had long known. Even as early as it was in her relationship with Daniel, she couldn’t imagine what it would be like to lose him, to know she would never see him again this side of eternity.

With her right hand, Aunt Hope set her alarm clock.

“Have you ever been in love, Aunt Hope?”

“Once or twice,” Aunt Hope noted. “Sort of.”

“Really?”

Aunt Hope set the clock back on the nightstand. “Ancient history now, but...there was this boy back home.” She settled under the sheets.

“Amish?”

“Through and through. You probably know him. Joseph Glick.”

Recognition gleamed in Charity’s eyes. “Yes, he’s very nice. He’s a good friend of Dat’s. Married to Constance. They have six children and, from the looks of it, another on the way.”

Aunt Hope situated her pillow. “That’s good. Good for them.”

There was an unmistakable tinge of regret in Aunt Hope’s voice. It made Charity feel bad that she’d asked at all. Had she touched an old wound?  “I’m sorry, Aunt Hope. Does that hurt you?”

“No, no. Not anymore,” Aunt Hope answered. “He started calling on Constance just before I left. Never knew how I felt. I left because of your mother, but...he’s part of the reason I didn’t hurry back. At least, at first he was. Then, by the time I was over him, I’d kind of fallen in love with life here. And that was that.”

Charity curled over on her side. There was something so wonderful about being able to talk this way with another woman, especially since Bethany was so far away. Charity hesitated to pry, but Aunt Hope’s openness encouraged her. There was so little she knew about her aunt, and so much more she wanted to know. “So, it wasn’t Ivan...the second time.”

Even in the moonlight, Charity could see a glint in Aunt Hope’s eyes. She could hear the nostalgia in her voice.

“Well,” Aunt Hope began, “maybe it could have been, but... I guess we’ll never know.”

The faint rumble of traffic continued. It was not so quiet there at night as it was at home. A car alarm wailed insistently.

Aunt Hope shook her head. “Goodnight, Charity.”

“Goodnight, Aunt Hope.”

Though they did their best to settle in, both of them remained wide-awake. With all that had just transpired, Charity could not stop thinking. Her mind reviewed those stolen moments with Daniel, over and over again. It was a secret that burned inside of her, longing to be shared. Quietly, she whispered. “I kissed him tonight.”

Aunt Hope rolled back over on her side. “Just now? In there?”

A smile curled on Charity’s lips. “He took me up to the roof to surprise me, but I think I was the one who surprised him.”

“You kissed him?”

“So I did.” Charity beamed. “Our secret, okay?”

“Always.”

Charity felt the color rise to her cheeks. “Dat likes him as a match for me.”

It was a while before Aunt Hope responded. “I understand why that’s important. I do. But, Charity, tell me... Are you in love with him?”

“I am.” It was the strangest thing. Though she hadn’t realized it until that very moment, everything in Charity was sure. She was also certain that she wanted Aunt Hope to be the very first to hear it.

eleven

H
ope swallowed hard. The Café Troubadour was humming with activity, and there she was, sporting that elbow-to-wrist cast. Normally, a horde of hungry patrons would be considered a very good thing, but on this particular day, it complicated matters. Frank would hardly take her injured wrist as good news. At least Charity and Daniel had come. Hopefully, that would offset the blow.

It didn’t take Frank long to spot her. There was even a dash of sympathy as he shook his head. Any way you sliced it, her work would be compromised.

Hope glanced over at Shep as he played a piano intro for Myrna. She raised the microphone to sing:

“I heard the bells

On Christmas Day,

Their old familiar carols play,

And wild and sweet,

The words repeat,

Of peace on earth,

Good will to men...”

When she got back from hanging up her coat in the locker room, Frank was at the cash register. He was wrangling with a jammed tape. That wouldn’t improve his mood, not on a day like this.

Silently, Hope sent up a prayer. It hadn’t been the first time that morning, but she knew she could use all the help she could get.

Through the pass-through window, she spotted Daniel. He had already started scrubbing a pot, back in the kitchen. Such a hard worker. Amish, through and through.

Charity followed at a discreet distance behind her, wearing her lengthened uniform. Frank wouldn’t be crazy about the kapp over Charity’s bun, but he’d just have to deal with it.

Light applause came from the dining floor as Myrna’s carol came to a close. No time like the present to approach Frank. She threw back her shoulders and ambled his way.

Frank fed a fresh tape into the register. He barely looked at her. “My condolences and whatnot, Hope. But did you notice we’re into the holiday rush and you can’t even tote a tray?”

Hope gathered the mangled tape and pitched it into the recycle bin. “I’ll cover the counter and the register one-handed. Charity can take my tables.”

“Our wait staff sings,” Frank insisted. “No exceptions. I told you, Charity can help in the kitchen, but sorry, Hope. There are a lot of talented wannabes lined up for your job.”

Hope shot a glance at Charity. For her sake, she wanted so much to make this work. She watched as Charity quietly took it upon herself to venture onto the restaurant floor.

Hope turned back to her boss. “Frank, please. We’ll figure it out. Daniel is a great worker. He’ll help keep the kitchen going for you.”

Frank popped the side of the register back into place. “It’s simple arithmetic, Hope. I can’t pay three people to do one person’s work. Let alone that the customers here expect their servers to entertain.”

“Oh, come on, Frank. They’ll love her. And she’ll work for tips only.”

Stubbornly, Frank headed back toward the kitchen. “Not if she don’t sing.”

Hope slumped. It seemed the battle was lost. Then, she heard the sound of a pure young voice, coming from the stage. Hope looked over, astonished. Charity stood at the microphone, tentatively at first, singing
a cappella
. Soon, Shep softly picked up the melody on the piano.

“Oh, little town of Bethlehem,     

How still we see thee lie,       

Above thy deep

And dreamless sleep,

The silent stars go by.”

Halfway through the kitchen door, Frank stopped in his tracks. Slowly, he turned back. Hope watched breathlessly as he scanned restaurant’s service floor, monitoring his customers’ faces.

Normally, chatter continued when other staffers sang. This time, conversations ceased. Diners turned in their seats. They were all rapt on Charity, especially Hope. She did glance toward the kitchen briefly, in time to see Daniel as he stepped to the pass-through window. His gaze was so intent. It was also impossible to read.

Sitting at the counter, Goldie shot a cynical smirk Hope’s way. “Touching, but so not secular. Isn’t there an ordinance against those kind of carols yet?”

Myrna stepped in to heat up his coffee. “Last time I checked, this was still a free country.”

Hope pushed Goldie’s grousing aside. There was something that felt almost holy to her about the moment. Clearly, the rest of their customers were feeling it, too. Some began to sing along. Hope instinctively found herself wandering to the stage, adding her rich alto to Charity’s lilting soprano.

“Yet in thy dark streets shineth,    

The everlasting light,             

The hopes and fears

Of all the years, 

Are met in Thee tonight.”

Shep smiled as Hope joined Charity beside the piano, her voice blending with Charity’s as only family could. By the second verse, it seemed the whole restaurant was singing along, swept up in the miracle of the moment.

Everything in Hope sang. There had always been something about music that lifted her spirit, but this was even more so. In reality, she was in New York City, standing on a small stage in a not so chichi café. But inside, where it really mattered, harmonizing with Charity transported her. It took her to that place where, for so many years, she’d desperately longed to be. It took her home.

Hope closed out the register for the evening. It had been quite a prosperous day. As the last café customer bade them goodnight, Daniel put chairs on top of tables. Frank swept. Gratefully, Frank hadn’t griped about Leanne calling in sick again. Not even once. He also hadn’t mentioned a preference for Daniel’s work ethic, though it was pretty clear that he had one.

Myrna dumped the fishbowl of tips from the piano onto the counter in front of Hope and Charity. It was easily twice the usual.

Shep’s guide dog led him by, on his way out for the night. “Sounds like you did alright.”

Myrna grinned broadly. “Better than alright, Baby. Don’t you worry. I’ll put yours aside.”

Shep tipped his hat. “Pleasure to play for you, Angels.”

Hope gave him an affectionate pat. “Night, now.”

“Thank you, Shep,” Charity added.

Shep turned toward Charity with a little bow. “My privilege.”

As Shep neared the door, Hope’s gaze fell on Ivan. How long had he been standing there, outside in the cold, waiting? As soon as he caught her eye, he waved.
Ah, well
, she sighed. She gave him a subtle wave in return. This break wasn’t shaping up to be anywhere near as clean as she’d anticipated.

Myrna sidled up to Hope. “Lookee who’s here again. Thought you two broke up.”

“So did I.” Hope straightened the many bills they’d received so all of the George Washingtons faced the same way. Actually, not only were there a slew of Washingtons, there were also quite a few Lincolns and Hamiltons, even a Jackson or two. “Have you ever seen tips like this? Charity, this is not normal.”

Myrna’s expression confirmed it. With a wink at Hope, she emphasized her words. She wanted Frank to overhear. “And the way you two blend. Mmm-mm! That was some kind of yuletide moment.”

Frank set his broom aside. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. I hear ya.”

Hope dealt the tips out into four piles. “Admit it, Frank. She did great.”

Frank grabbed his dustpan. “That she did.” He glanced back and forth between Charity and Daniel. “Don’t suppose the two of you can stay on past Christmas.”

Myrna reared back. “Somebody slap me! Frank’s feeling generous!”

Frank wagged a congenial finger Myrna’s way. “Hush, woman, before I give ‘em your job.”

Hope threw an affectionate arm around Charity. “You staying on is a thought. Maybe we both have something to think about. Huh, Charity?” It had popped out before she’d really thought it through.

Daniel paused briefly.

He must have heard her, too. Would they even consider it?  There was the answer in Charity’s sweetly conflicted eyes.

Frank ambled toward the counter. “What do you say, there, Little Missy?”

Hope watched as Charity exchanged a look with Daniel. “Well, it’s...Daniel and I—”

It wasn’t long before Daniel stepped up behind Frank. “We appreciate it, Frank. But our families are expecting us home on the twenty-fourth. We can’t stay.”

Despite Daniel’s intervention, Hope kept an eye on Charity.

Charity stepped to Daniel’s side. “Frank, it’s so kind of you to offer, but we can’t.”

Hope took it in with a bittersweet smile. What might Charity have said if Daniel had given her a chance to answer for herself?

Masking her disappointment, Hope went back to organizing their tips. She should just accept it, she coaxed herself. This was the way of the Amish. Women had little voice there. So often, they deferred to the men in their lives as Charity had. Just as she, herself, had in her youth.

It all seemed so long ago, like a far away dream...actually a very happy one. It hadn’t been a bad childhood. Not at all. In fact, so much of it had been wonderful, almost idyllic. Going home would be an adjustment, just like moving to the city had been. There’d be plusses and minuses either way.

Maybe Charity was right. Maybe she should go back to Amish Country with them.

Then again, maybe not.

At first, it would be bliss to wrap her arms around those she’d missed so dearly, most of all her brother, Nathan, and her dear ageing father. But in time, the rush of excitement over her homecoming would settle into day-to-day Plain life. How would she feel then?

Here, in the English world, she’d found such liberty in her faith. For years, she had answered to no one except her heavenly Father. She kind of liked it that way. Even if, somehow, she could find love among the Amish, would she be able to be the kind of wife that an Amish man would expect? Hard to say. On the other hand, would she ever allow herself to marry a man outside the Amish community? That would be tantamount to a decision to never return.

As she watched Charity and Daniel work side-by-side, helping Frank to close up for the night, Hope was mightily torn. Time was ticking away. How could she go back with them? Yet how could she bear to watch them go home without her, knowing it would be the last she’d ever see of them?

Smokey meowed.

Leanne scowled at her. For a cat, she could certainly be a mouthy little beast. And exasperating. Let’s not forget exasperating. Leanne unscrewed the lid on Hope’s tip jar. “I gave you your dinner. What more do you want?”

Smokey kept on yowling.

“You’re just a cat.” Leanne searched through the pickle jar for quarters. They were all ice cold. She winced as something snagged within her abdomen. Again with the cramps. “And anyway, it’s not that much. Not like I need to explain to—”

Hearing the rattle of a key being inserted into Hope’s door lock, Leanne quickly pocketed the quarters. She screwed the lid back onto the jar just as she heard the door swing open.

“Hello?” Charity called out.

“In here.” Hurriedly, Leanne stashed the tip jar. She’d pretend to rummage through the leftovers in the open refrigerator. That wouldn’t raise suspicion. “Just getting something to eat. Are you hungry?”