Going Home (15 page)

Menno shook his head. “That’s okay. I’m the champion of checkers, so I’d better give you the edge by letting you begin.”

“Whatever you say,” Noah said with a shrug.

They played in silence for a time as each of them racked up a few kings. About halfway through the game, Menno leaned back in his chair with his hands clasped behind his head and said, “Say, I’ve been wondering something.”

“What’s that?” Noah asked, as he studied the board.

“How come a nice fellow like you, who likes to cook and do other things in the kitchen, isn’t married and raising a passel of kinner by now?”

Noah’s eyebrows shot up. “Well, I. . .” He jumped one of Menno’s checkers and then another. “To tell you the truth, I’ve never found a woman who showed much interest in me.”

“Is that so?”

Noah nodded. “It’s your turn, Menno.”

Menno contemplated his next move as he thought about what he should say. This conversation wasn’t going nearly as well as he had hoped. “I should think with your kitchen skills that all the single women in our community would be chasing after you like hound dogs in pursuit of a rabbit,” he said as he moved his checker piece.

Noah took his turn again, this time jumping three of Menno’s checkers. “That’s it! That’s the end of this game!”

Menno stared dumbfounded at the checkerboard. He didn’t know how Noah had done it, but he’d managed to skunk him real good. “I. . .uh. . .guess I didn’t have my mind on the game,” he mumbled. “That’s what I get for trying to. . .” His voice trailed off. He’d almost blurted out that he was trying to help Wilma get Noah and Faith together.

“Trying to what?” Noah asked with a puzzled expression.

“Nothing. Nope, it was nothing at all.” Menno pushed a stack of checkers in Noah’s direction. “You take the red ones this time.” He gritted his teeth.
And from now on, Wilma can do her own matchmaking
.

F
aith didn’t know why she felt so nervous, but the idea that Noah was coming by soon to take them to the Christmas tree farm had her feeling as jittery as a cat with a bad case of fleas. She’d been pacing the kitchen floor for the last ten minutes, periodically going to the window to see if he had arrived.

“It was nice of Noah to invite you out for the day. It’ll be good for you and the kinner to have some fun.”

Faith whirled around at the sound of her mother’s voice. She hadn’t realized anyone had come into the kitchen. “I–I’m sure the girls will enjoy themselves.”

Mama’s eyebrows furrowed. “And what about you, daughter? Won’t you have a good time, as well?”

“I suppose I will.”

“Noah’s a nice man, don’t you think?”

Faith shrugged. “It will be interesting to see how Christmas
trees are grown,” she said. No use giving Mama any ideas about her and Noah becoming an item.

Her mother grunted and helped herself to a cup of the herbal tea she’d brewed a few minutes earlier. “It wonders me the way our English neighbors put so much emphasis on bringing a tree into the house at Christmas, then throwing all sorts of fancy decorations and bright lights onto the branches. Why not just enjoy the trees outdoors, the way God intended us to?”

Faith didn’t bother to answer. Mama had never approved of Faith showing an interest in modern things, and if she gave her opinion now, it might be misconstrued as Faith wanting to have a tree in the house. She helped herself to a glass of water at the sink and headed for the back door. “Think I’ll wait outside with the girls,” she said over her shoulder. “See you when we get home.”

Out on the porch, Faith took a seat in one of the wicker chairs and watched Melinda and Susie as they took turns pushing each other on the old wooden swing hanging from one of their maple trees.

“I remember the days when I was that carefree,” she murmured, closing her eyes and imagining herself as a child again. Faith and her sisters used to play on the swing whenever they had a free moment. Sometimes when Barbara came to visit, she and Faith would take turns, just as Melinda and Susie were doing now. Those were untroubled days, when Faith was more content with her life—always joking and playing tricks on her siblings. She’d actually enjoyed much of her early childhood. It wasn’t
until Faith became a teenager that she had decided she wasn’t happy being Amish. Mama and Papa had seemed more critical, saying things like, “Why don’t you grow up and start acting your age?” and “Quit playing around and get to work.”

Faith remembered the time she and Dan Miller had hitchhiked into Springfield and gone to the movies. When she returned home in the evening, she’d gotten into trouble for that little stunt. Papa had shouted at her something awful, saying if she were a few years younger she’d have been hauled to the woodshed for a sound
bletsching
. He said she was rebellious and irresponsible for taking off without telling them where she was going. When it came out that they’d hitchhiked and gone to see a show, Papa blew up and gave Faith double chores for a whole month. He said what she and Dan had done was not only worldly but dangerous. What if some maniac had been the one to give them a ride? They could have been beaten, robbed, or worse. Faith couldn’t believe Dan had spilled the beans. It was a good thing he and his family had moved to Illinois, or she might tell him what she thought about all that even now.

Mama, who had also been quite upset, had made Faith learn a whole list of scripture verses over the next several weeks. Faith had used that as an excuse for not reading her Bible after that.

The
clip-clop
of a horse’s hooves drew Faith’s musings to a halt, and she opened her eyes. Noah had arrived. She drew in a deep breath, smoothed the wrinkles in her dark blue cotton dress, and stood. “Come on, girls,” she called to Melinda and Susie. “Noah’s here, and it’s time to go.”

Noah was glad to see Faith waiting on the front porch, and he chuckled as the girls surrounded him, both begging, “Hurry up and let’s go.”

Soon he had the children loaded into the back of his open buggy and Faith settled on the front seat beside him.

“Sure is a nice day,” Noah said, glancing over at Faith with a grin.

She nodded.

“I hope the girls like the tree farm.”

“I’m sure they will.”

“Hank’s wife has been looking forward to your coming. She really likes kinner.”

“That’s nice.”

“Hank has a couple of beagle hounds, Amos and Griggs. I’m guessing the girls will enjoy playing with them.”

“Could be.”

Noah grimaced. Couldn’t Faith respond to anything he said with more than a few words? Didn’t she want to go to the tree farm, or was she just being quiet because the girls were chattering so loudly in the seat behind them that it was hard to make conversation over their voices?

Deciding it might be best to keep quiet for the rest of the trip, Noah concentrated on guiding the horse down the highway. A short time later, he pulled into the driveway of Osborns’ Christmas Tree Farm. He stopped in front of the hitching post
Hank had built for Noah, got out, and headed around back to help the girls out. When they were safely on the ground, he turned to Faith, but she’d already climbed down.

He led the way, taking them into the area where the rows of Scotch and white pines had recently been sheared and shaped.

“Look at all the trees!” Melinda shouted as she ran down the lane. “I wish we could see them decorated for Christmas.”

“You can,” Noah called. “My boss’s wife, Sandy, has some artificial trees in her gift shop. We’ll stop in there after we’ve seen the real trees, and you can take a look.”

For the next hour, Noah showed Faith and the girls around the farm, explaining the procedure that began in the late winter months and continued up to harvest, shortly before Christmas the following year. From late December until early June, dead trees were cut down, and new ones were planted in their place. From the first of April all the way through summer, the grass around the seedlings had to be kept mowed. The larger trees were sheared and shaped during the summer months, and by fall, certain trees were selected to be sold to local lots and shipped to other markets farther away.

“By the first of November, we start cutting the trees; then they’re netted, packed, and ready for pickup on Thanksgiving weekend. The Christmas tree lots are usually open for business on the Friday after Thanksgiving,” Noah explained.

“Do all Englishers buy their trees from the lots?” Susie questioned.

Noah shook his head. “Some come out here and reserve their trees as soon as October, rather than going to a lot to pick
out a tree.” He motioned to a group of nearby pines. “This place is really busy during the month of December, and many folks come back year after year to get a tree. Hank keeps his business operating on weekends until Thanksgiving; then it’s open daily for folks to come and get their trees and browse through the gift shop.”

“We put up a small tree in our hotel room last Christmas. Ain’t that right, Mama?” Melinda asked, giving the edge of her mother’s apron a tug.

“Yes, that’s right. We did have a tree.” Faith tweaked her daughter’s nose. “And it’s
isn’t
, not
ain’t
.”

“Mama told me yesterday there won’t be a tree in Grandma and Grandpa Stutzman’s house,” Melinda continued, making no mention of her mother’s grammatical correction.

“That’s right, Melinda. The Amish don’t celebrate Christmas by bringing a decorated tree into the house.” Noah motioned to the rustic barn nearby. “Now that we’ve seen the trees, we can go into the gift shop and take a look at all the things Sandy has for sale. After that, we’ll eat our picnic lunch.”

“Yippee!” the girls chorused.

Faith looked over at Noah. “I think you’ve made their day.”

“I hope you’re enjoying yourself, as well.”

She nodded. “It’s been quite interesting.”

When they entered the gift shop a few minutes later, they were greeted by both Hank and his wife, Sandy, a petite redhaired woman with brown eyes.

“Would you all like something to drink?” Sandy asked, once the introductions had been made.

“Maybe in a bit,” Noah replied. He turned to Faith. “How about you?”

“I’m fine for now, too.”

The girls, who seemed mesmerized by the artificial trees decorated with white twinkling lights, red balls, and brightly colored ornaments, darted around the room, checking each one out, while the adults found seats near the unlit, wood-burning stove.

“Did Noah explain how I run things here, while he showed you around the tree farm?” Hank asked, looking at Faith.

Faith nodded and bent to pet the Osborns’ two beagle hounds, Amos and Griggs. Griggs licked her hand, while Amos nudged her foot with a rubber ball he’d taken from a wicker basket near the front door. “It’s all quite impressive,” she said, tossing the ball for Amos while she continued to pet Griggs.

“I’m sure glad Noah came to work for me,” Hank continued. “He’s one of the best workers I’ve ever had.”

Noah’s face heated with embarrassment. “I enjoy working with the trees almost as much as I like baking,” he mumbled.

“And you’re as good a baker as you are a tree farmer.” Sandy smiled at Faith. “Noah often bakes some of his goodies for the customers who come into my shop. One of the things folks like best is his lemon sponge cake.”

Faith nodded but made no comment. It was obvious that her focus was on the dogs.

Hank stood and placed his hand on Noah’s shoulder. “If you’d like to come out to my workshop with me, I’ll show you my latest woodworking project.”

Noah nodded. “That’d be fine.” He glanced over at Faith to get her reaction, but she shrugged and threw the ball for Amos again.

“We’ll probably be ready for some apple cider and a few cookies when we get back,” Hank said, nodding at his wife.

“They’ll be ready whenever you are,” she replied.

As Noah followed Hank outside, he smiled at Melinda and Susie, who played under the trees with the other hound dog.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t like something to eat or drink?” Sandy asked Faith.

“No, thanks, I’m fine.” Faith glanced around the shop, noticing all the gift items as well as the artificial trees. “This place must keep you plenty busy.”