Merry's Christmas: Two Book Set (Amish) (27 page)

Daniel rounded the corner. “No, we’re fine. Frank fed us.”

Leanne leaned around the kitchen wall, her pulse racing. Good. Hope wasn’t there. Just Charity, taking off that ridiculous looking bonnet of hers.  How Charity could traipse around in public dressed like she did was completely beyond her. “So, where’s Hope?”

Charity untied her cape. “Out front with Ivan.”

Leanne closed the refrigerator door. Even the sight of food at this point turned her stomach. “I am so sick of being pregnant. Nothing looks good.” She fought to control the racing of her heart. What she needed to do was to get back into her room where she could stash the coins she had taken. The things were icy, plus they made her pockets bulge way out from her hips. Just leave casually, she told herself. But when she brushed the counter going by, the stolen quarters jangled loudly. She slapped her hands down to silence them.

Immediately, Leanne saw Daniel put it together. He knew. And he knew she knew he knew. Charity let out a little gasp. She knew, too. Continuing the charade was pointless. “Go ahead, tell on me,” she spat. “Get me thrown out on the street to have this baby. That’ll be Christmassy!” Angrily, she strode past them. She stalked into her room and slammed the door.

Just inside, Leanne’s chest heaved. What was she going to do now? The world was crashing down around her. One thing she knew: it was humiliating enough to get busted by Mr. and Miss Righteous. But there was no way she could face Hope, too, not after all that Hope had done for her.

Tears threatened. She did her best to suck them back into her head, right into the ducts they came from. Failing, she wiped them on her sleeve, then slid the closet door open. There was that ugly nylon duffel bag of hers. That again. Fitfully, she began to pack.

A soft knock sounded at the door.

“Go away!” Leanne shouted.

The door opened. Charity slipped inside.

Great. Just what she needed. A religious nut to make her feel even guiltier than she already did. She stuffed what little she owned into the duffel bag. “Don’t you judge me. You and your holier-than-thou boyfriend. Neither one of you has the first clue what it’s like to live out in the real world.”

Charity dropped her eyes. “You’re right. We don’t.”

Leanne emptied her dresser drawer. “I knew the minute you two showed up my ticket was up here. Should have packed then. Saved myself the trouble.”

“Leanne, please stop.”

“Why? So you can preach to me all about stealin’? You think I don’t know right from wrong? Here.” Furiously, Leanne emptied her pockets onto the bed. “Take it!”

Charity stepped toward Leanne. “You can still put it back.”

Leanne grabbed the last of her socks and stuffed them into her bag. “That much I can. But not what I already spent. Stupid prenatal vitamins are costin’ me a stinkin’ fortune.”

Charity faced Leanne. She was maddeningly calm. “How much more did you use?”

“Maybe thirty bucks.” Leanne splayed her fingers into her hair. “What’s the difference?”

Charity reached into her pocket and pulled out a handful of bills. Leanne’s jaw gaped. Charity counted out thirty dollars and placed it beside the newly stolen quarters.

Leanne churned. How much more frustrating could this get? The nicer Charity was, then tada! The more hideous it made her by comparison. “What am I supposed to do with all that?”

Charity put a gentle hand on Leanne’s shoulder. “Accept it as my Christmas gift to you, then do whatever you choose.” Charity left quietly. She closed Leanne’s door behind her.

Bewildered, Leanne plopped down on the bed. Another cramp ripped through her belly. Perfect. Wincing, she tried to relax her muscles. The people on the Internet said that was supposed to help, and she supposed it did, a little. Still, try as she may, she knew that no amount of relaxation could get her out of the train wreck she’d made of her life.

The pain fading, Leanne ran her fingers across the stolen coins on the bed. They were still damp and frosty beneath her fingers.
What a mess.
She looked at her duffel bag beside her. Charity might be able to live with paying off her debt. But the question Leanne couldn’t dodge was: how could she live with herself?

It seemed only fair to Hope that she should let Ivan walk her home from the café. That meant she’d had to ask Daniel and Charity to go ahead without her. Fact was, she hadn’t talked much to Ivan since she’d broken things off with him so abruptly. Just that once when she’d blurted that business about his green card expiring. That hadn’t been right, at least not the way she’d said it. 

Recalibrating was tricky. It seemed best to just keep things light as they traversed the blocks to her brownstone. Stick to safe subjects. As usual, Ivan went along with it, matching his stride to hers. By the time they reached her block, they’d chatted about every single thing Hope could think of, everything except the I.N.S. Agency crowding the walk between them.

Finally, they were there.

Hope lingered at the bottom of the steps that led up to her apartment building’s door. As fond as she was of Ivan, it would be so easy to just fall back into her old rhythms with him. 
Hold the line, now
, she reminded herself.

Ivan leaned against the iron rail beside her. “You sure I cannot come up?’

Something melted inside her. He wasn’t going to make this easy. She forced herself to woman up. “Sorry. Full house at the moment.”

Ivan shrugged congenially. “So, we hang out. Play an American board game. Like friends do.”

Avoiding the conversation seemed fruitless. But it didn’t make it any easier for her to look him in the eye. “This isn’t fair to you, Ivan. I feel like I’m leading you on.”

Ivan put his arms out to his sides, his palms exposed. “There is no false impression. You refused my proposal of marriage. Everything is completely understood.”

She glanced up toward the sky. “Still...”

Ivan swung around to face her squarely. “Hope, listen to me. I have accepted that I will be deported in a month.”

“Why?” Hope asked. “There’s still time. Who knows? Maybe you could meet someone else.”

Ivan shuffled his foot against the walk. “I suppose I could. But how fair would that be to see someone else, when all I would think of is you?”

“Ivan...” Hope had to turn away. It was just too hard to look at him. What, with those dark chocolate eyes.

Ivan softly brushed her arm, drawing her gaze back to him. “You do not have to feel what I feel, Hope. And please. I do not want you to feel bad that I feel it.”

Hope dropped her head. “How can I not feel bad?”

Ivan gently raised her chin with his hand. “I do not. Why would I feel bad for feeling the best feeling I have ever felt?”

“Um...because I rejected you?”

An unexpected grin curled on his lips. “Silly woman. Do you know how alone I was in this city until I met you?”

Everything in Hope wanted to answer. Yes, she did understand. She completely got what it was like to feel desperately alone in the city. She knew the soul-level loneliness of having no one to call her own.

Absolutely.

But the words refused to come from her lips.

Ivan sighed. There was a wistful resignation about him that she couldn’t help notice as he scanned down the street. “All my life, I dreamed of coming to this country. Sergei and Anton, they remember. I had this fantasy that I would build a family, become a great chef. Maybe that I would even become a success, make my name known.”

Hope allowed herself to smile. “Yeah. I guess I did that last one, too.”

“Sure,” Ivan nodded. “Because, well, that is how dreams are. But here is my reality: there is no business, no family. No. I am not rich. I am not sought after, except by immigration. And what does it matter? In the end, it has not been about any of those things. I do not dream of anything anymore. Nothing but you.”

There was something so disarming about the way Ivan spoke. It was the truth, she realized. He was being more honest with her than she’d even been with herself.

“Hope—all this time I have been here—when I think of it, the very best of it has been with you. No, you did not tell me much about your past. But who you have been to me here, in the present, that I will never forget. When I go back, that is all I want to take with me. That I have a friend in America.” He paused. “Just a friend, that is all. Someone who will maybe remember me a little bit. Someone who cares that I was once here.” Ivan searched her brimming eyes. “I will not ask any more of you, Hope, but can you do that?”

Hope could only nod. It was impossible not to remember how much she adored him, to recall why she’d taken to him so readily in the first place. He was cut off from his homeland, just like she was. The difference was that he would be compelled to return soon. He’d be forced to leave the life he always wanted to live. Maybe it would be just as well if he did. Maybe he was meant to go back. Maybe she was, too.

Hope nodded. She returned Ivan’s gaze. He hadn’t asked much. Only friendship. It seemed the very least she could do for him. “Yeah, Ivan,” she promised. “I can be your friend back here. I can do that.”

twelve

C
harity sat across from Daniel, fashioning a tiny white apron for a handmade doll. He had been so quiet that evening. He’d hardly said a thing since she’d whispered to him about what happened with Leanne.

She was still in there. Not a sound had come from that room since Charity had left. Maybe he was afraid Leanne would overhear them through her door. Maybe he was just tired. The sofa was comfortable enough for sitting, but sleeping there might well be catching up with him.

She looked up from the doll. Warmly, Daniel returned her smile, then went back to painting his carving. His eyes looked so soft, his lids heavy. He’s just weary. Surely, that must be it. She should focus on her work and allow him to concentrate on his. They didn’t need to talk all the time. In this noisy city, silence was a gift they could give to each other.

The doll she was making was coming together nicely. A black bonnet already surrounded its blank muslin face. There had been plenty of leftover violet fabric from her own dress to make one for the doll. All in all, it looked just like the one Mamm had made for her when she was a little girl. Many layers of muslin had been sewn over that old doll, preserving it over the years she’d played with it. The last layer she had patched on herself, before putting the doll away for safekeeping. One day, that old doll would be a gift, should Gott bless her with a daughter.

The doll she was making now—that would be for Daniel’s sister, Abby, this Christmas. Hopefully, it would make Abby smile. At sixteen, though Abby had blossomed physically, she still had the mind of a child. So sweet and trusting. No wonder Daniel was so protective of her, especially now that she’d come of age to go to Sunday singings. That must have been why he’d always gone, ever since Abby had started to go.

What a good brother Daniel was. And what a good husband he would be. At least that seemed to be where things between them were headed. After all, he had told her that he loved her. Still, he hadn’t said much since. So much had happened since then, though.

Was something she had said or done bothering him? He hadn’t been unpleasant in any way. Not at all. That wasn’t his nature. He just sat, diligently painting that horse and buggy toy he’d carved for his brother.

Charity snipped a new length of white thread. “With two brothers, I never made dolls. You think Abby will like this?”

Daniel glanced up at her. “My sister would love whatever you give her.”

“You don’t think she’s too old for dolls? Maybe I should make her a new bonnet instead.”

A fond understanding crossed his face as he dabbed his brush into the paint. “Knowing Abby, I think she’d prefer the doll.”

The lull in conversation that followed ate at Charity. Why it was that things suddenly seemed so awkward between them, she couldn’t be sure. Maybe she should just let it go. Everything was probably fine. Still, the knot in her stomach refused to release its grip. “Has something changed?”

Daniel looked up. “How do you mean?”

Charity searched for words. There was no turning back now. “I’m not really sure. You seem somehow...displeased with me.”

His brow knitted. “Do I?”

Charity put the doll down and moved to Daniel’s side on the sofa. She lowered her voice. “Is it because I kissed you?”

“No, not at all. Believe me.”

“Is it because I gave the money I made to Leanne?”

“No. Of course, not.”

Charity sat back, still unsettled in her spirit. “Then, it is something.”

Daniel seemed to mull it over briefly before he turned his attention back to her. “You did well. Singing.”

“Is it because I sang in harmony? Or with the piano?”

“No, it’s... You did seem to enjoy it.”

Charity studied him intently. “Does that give you some concern?”

Another moment or two passed before Daniel responded. “I suppose. That you would come to like it too well yet.”

“Daniel, I was helping Aunt Hope. It was the only way. She needs her job.”

“Not if she comes back with us.”

Charity let out a sigh. He was right. “No. I guess not, but...” Why was she so conflicted? Life with the English hadn’t been at all what she’d imagined it would be. It was not void of faith or the simple joys she relished in Amish life. There were just different joys to be discovered. Suddenly, it dawned on her. She was, indeed, feeling the pull of the English world. Dat had told her to expect it, but in fairness, it didn’t seem like such a bad thing.

She studied Daniel. “You don’t like it here much, do you now?”

Daniel raised a brow. “It doesn’t matter so much if I like it or not. This isn’t our life.”

“It’s Aunt Hope’s life, though. And she’s a part of me.”

“She hasn’t been. Not anymore. Not since she chose to leave us.”

Nothing in Charity wanted to challenge Daniel. Yet, honesty compelled her. Somehow she should find the strength she needed. Before she could hold them back, tears overtook her. “I know what you’re saying, Daniel, but at the same time... I guess I don’t know anymore. Not for sure.” 

Daniel set aside the paints and lovingly turned to her. “What? Tell me. What do you not know? There’s nothing that you can’t share with me.”

As she searched his eyes, what she saw was compassion. She really could tell him anything, even the hard truth that was troubling her. “If she won’t come back with us, I don’t know if I could keep shutting her out, just because she lives in the world. I’m sorry, Daniel, but is that so wrong? Aunt Hope trusts the same Gott that we do. She lives our faith. She is kind and giving.”

“And she has abandoned the vows of her baptism, vows she made to Gott,” Daniel whispered. He glanced toward Leanne’s door. “She has broken the heart of her father. She has deserted her family, her friends. You have to see it in that light.”

Charity tried to absorb it, but his words wrestled with the conviction growing inside her. “She would have visited if she’d felt welcome to come and go. I’m sure. With the changes, there are others within our district that let loved ones who were once shunned visit on occasion. The bishop allowed it. And they at least exchange letters from time to time.”

Gently, he covered her hand with his. “Charity, people look up to your father. They respect mine, too. Yes, there are those few at home who are starting to make these concessions, but by far, they’re in the minority. It’s just the Beacheys. That isn’t the example our fathers have set, or that they’ve asked us to honor.”

Charity nodded, understanding. Still, it was hard to fathom what good cutting her Aunt Hope off completely had done. “Dat says she has written to us every Christmas. We’re the ones who don’t respond. Can you imagine how she would feel after this?”

Daniel laced his fingers into hers. “I’ve thought about this, too, Charity. And even if we did respond, if we let her visit, the problem is that she’d never come back to stay. Then, more and more, others would join the few who want to do it now. You know they would. In and out, English and Amish, till the life we know would be lost forever.”

Charity absorbed it thoughtfully. He had an undeniable point, and he had made it with such patience. It made her admire him all the more. It told her she was safe with him. That she could reveal the deepest secrets of her heart.

“Yes, Daniel. I know what you’re saying, but...  Between us, does it ever set you to wonder? Do you ever question these things at all?”

Daniel sat quietly. “No.”

“Honestly.”

“It seems you do.” From the look he returned, Charity could tell that Daniel was more than concerned. He broke her gaze sadly.

All at once, Leanne burst through her door, shattering their silence. Daniel released her hand.

Leanne marched straight to the coffee table where Daniel had been working and slapped Charity’s money down. “There! Count it if you want.” The pile of coins she’d pilfered came next, in fitful handfuls, fished from her pockets. “That’s all of it.”

Charity raised her hands. “Leanne, stop. You don’t have to do this. Just put the quarters back in the tip jar along with what I gave you. This whole thing can stay between us.”

“I’m a runaway,” Leanne spat. “I’m giving up my own baby to who knows who. I totally ripped Hope off. And, what, you’re not gonna turn me in?”

Daniel shook his head. “Turning you in... That’s... It’s just not our way.”

The front door opened. Aunt Hope eased into the room. Charity’s gaze darted to Aunt Hope as Leanne wagged an insistent finger at Daniel. “No, your way is... See, you don’t have to say a word. Uh-uh. You just sit there all glowy and wonderful, showing up what a complete mound of mess I am!”

Hope strode to Charity’s side. “Leanne!”

Charity rose. “It’s all right.”

Hotly, Leanne blurted. “No, it ain’t all right!” She turned to Aunt Hope. “I stole your tips, then she gave me what I needed to pay you back. So, go ahead. Here’s your chance. Go on, boot me!”

A bewildered look on her face, Aunt Hope faced Leanne. “Leanne... I’m not going to put you out of here.”

Leanne flashed from Charity and Daniel. She whirled back to Aunt Hope. “None of y’all get it, do you? I’m a bad person. I royally destroy everything I manage to touch. I got nobody! I been crampin’ somethin’ awful all day and got nothin’ to go to a doctor—”

Aunt Hope’s eyes widened. “You’re in labor?”

“No, course not. Can’t be,” Leanne winced. “I still got a month to go before—”

Charity exchanged a concerned glance with Aunt Hope. “How long between the cramps?”

“What difference does it make?” Leanne squeezed at her middle.

Taking Leanne by the arms, Aunt Hope focused straight into her eyes. “Leanne, stop. I want you to answer me, just one question. How long between the cramps?”

Leanne shifted restlessly. “I don’t know. It’s not like I’m counting. Couple-three minutes maybe.”

It hadn’t been so very long since Charity had assisted in the birth of Daniel’s cousin, Lydia’s baby. Lydia had borne up very bravely. She’d barely whimpered, despite the length of her labor. Still, pushing had to have been so very painful. Even just watching how traumatic that birth had been had left Charity lightheaded. Thank Gott for the midwife, though. Thank Gott that, step-by-step, that midwife had talked her through the entire process with Lydia. Charity laid a hand on her heart.

Please Gott, help me remember.

Leanne lay on the futon, buckled over with a contraction. Charity checked beneath her skirt, just as the mid-wife had shown her with Lydia. Charity caught her breath. The baby was already crowning.

Aunt Hope burst in with her keys. “We should get her to the hospital.”

Charity shook her head. “There’s no time. She’s too close.”

Leanne writhed. “I’m having this baby now?”

Gently, Charity lowered Leanne’s skirt. “Soon. Just breathe.”

Panic raced across Leanne’s face. She searched Charity’s eyes. “You know how to do this?”

“So I do,” Charity nodded, as much for Aunt Hope’s sake as for Leanne’s. “Aunt Hope, would you please ask Daniel to boil some water? Use it to sterilize a sharp knife and a needle from my sewing kit. There’s some thread in there, too.”

Leanne trembled. “You have to cut me?”

“Just the cord, let’s pray.”

Aunt Hope started for the door. “I’m calling an ambulance. I’m not going to let her—”

“I told you no ambulances!” Leanne screamed. “I can’t pay for no hospital!”

Calmly, Charity intervened. “Aunt Hope, it’s almost time. They couldn’t get here anyway. The baby is in a good position. We’ll be all right. Just tell Daniel what I need.”

Horrorstruck, Leanne erupted. “No! I can’t do this. It hurts!”

Charity leaned forward, her gaze quite intent. “Leanne, I want you to look at me.” Try as she might, she could not catch the thrashing girl’s eyes. “No, right here, Leanne. Breathe with me.”

Methodically, Charity demonstrated. Finally. Leanne started to match Charity’s breaths. Charity whispered to Aunt Hope. “Can you get started with those things we need?” A look of grave concern weighed heavily on Aunt Hope’s face, but she left compliantly.