Snowfall (17 page)

“Much more? Does that mean you'll be open on Christmas Eve?”

He absently brushed a lock of golden brown hair away from his forehead. “We will, but only until one or two.”

“I'm surprised that someone would be shopping for trees at such a late date.”

“It's usually a pretty busy day. All the trees are deeply discounted, of course. Some folks wait for the sale to put theirs up.”

“What do you do with the trees that don't sell?”

“Floyd and a couple of our crew members will take the best ones to a couple of charities early tomorrow. The remaining trees will eventually get made into mulch.”

“Nothing will go to waste.”

Looking at her in a new way, he shook his head. “You're right. Nothing will go to waste. Nothing of value ever does.”

“That's a nice sentiment.”

He leaned back, studied her. “Ruth, what happened to you? Why did you always get passed on to a new home?”

Pain slashed through her as she realized that it wasn't just painful memories the question brought; it was also embarrassment.

“I'm not sure what happened. After my mother died, her parents took me in. But they were frail, and after two years, one of my mother's sisters took me in.” She winced, remembering her aunt LaVerne and her sons. “But that wasn't a good fit, and so she asked another sibling to watch over me.”

She shrugged. “After a while, taking care of me became everyone's Christian duty. And while I am glad for their charity, it was hard to grow up knowing that I was not with them because they wanted me, but because they were obligated.”

“I can't imagine what that must have been like.”

“I don't want you to have to worry about that. Besides, I survived. Everyone has their own story to tell.”

Martin was still gazing at her. It was obvious he was thinking there was more to say, more that he wished to say.

“Really, Martin, it's no different from you. You married a lovely woman, had six perfect
kinner
, and then she passed away. That must have been a terrible loss.”

“It was.”

She nodded, a little disappointed that he didn't feel compelled to share any more about that. But realizing, too, that there was probably nothing else to say.

Pressing both of his palms on the top of the table, he murmured, “Ruth, Grace was a wonderful woman. She was. She was everything to me. At first the pain was so sharp I swear it hurt to even say her name, to even think it.

“But then, one day, I realized that I had memories of her that were too special to push away. And once I let myself remember our life together, those memories began to bring me a lot of comfort. That's when I realized that those wonderful, crazy, loud children of ours would always be shining examples of Grace's brightness. Of her boldness, too, I guess,” he added with a laugh.

“She was bold?”

“Oh,
jah
. She liked to speak her mind, my Grace did. She didn't suffer fools, either.” Looking beyond her, Martin smiled. “My Grace? She was something else.”

“Ah.”

His gaze darted to her again. “But she wasn't perfect, just as I am not. And I also now realize that she's been gone a long time. It's time I made peace with that.”

“If you were able to come to terms with her loss, that would be a good thing.”

“The Almighty never gives us more than we can handle, does He? Some of the things we must handle are bad. Others worse. But then the next day the sun shines or the snow falls or we get a smile or a hug.”

Ruth nodded, realizing that Martin's words were so true. “Those bright mornings and snowy days and warm hugs and sweet smiles make everything else bearable, don't they?”

“
Jah
.” Martin nodded. “Sometimes those things make all the difference in the world.” Before he walked away he smiled at her.

And Ruth felt that smile deep in her heart.

And she knew he was exactly right.

Daed said if Jesus got the chicken pox, he wouldn't have complained half as much as me.

Katrina, Age 9

Day 10 of Christmas Break

By ten on the morning of December twenty-fourth, Floyd was all smiles. “We did it, Martin. We sold almost all the trees and were still able to give six beautiful ones to our favorite charities.”

Martin shook his head in mock dismay. “I'm starting to think you like giving away those trees as much as selling them.”

“I do like giving them away. Makes me feel good to give away something we and the Lord work so hard on.” Grinning, he folded his arms over his chest. “I kept out three nine-footers to give to the orphanage. Those
kinner
are going to have a good time of it, decorating the trees this afternoon.”

“I hope so,” Martin said softly. He hated the idea of any child being alone in the world. But somehow being alone during the holiday seemed even worse.

“Speaking of children, how goes the chicken pox at your house?”

He grimaced. “They're all in various stages of miserableness. I feel bad for them, I do. But last night I was feeling mighty sorry for myself, too. They're wearing me out.” Remembering how tired he'd been last night, and how much Ruth had helped in countless ways, he murmured, “Ruth Stutzman coming to live with us has been a blessing. I wouldn't have been able to function without her.”

“And I wouldn't have been able to handle everything here by myself. Looks like we both owe her a lot.”

“She said she was going to make a ham and some scalloped potatoes for Christmas. Apple and cherry pies, too. She's making the house feel festive even if there isn't much to celebrate.”

“Christmas isn't all about being merry, you know.”

“I hear you. But it's also about enjoying special traditions and celebrating being with family and friends. This year, the kids being sick has changed things.”

“What did you get Ruth for Christmas?”

Martin glanced at him in surprise. “Nothing.”

“What?”

“Why are you surprised?”

“Martin, you better get into town and do something about that.”

“You think so? I thought since I was paying her . . .”

“You should do what you want. But personally I would want to have something to give her,” he murmured. “It's only right. Ain't so?”

Suddenly he could imagine Christmas morning and the children opening their few presents he'd bought for them. No doubt they would have drawn him pictures.

And Ruth? She would be sitting with them, on the outside looking in again. He couldn't bear to do that to her. “I need to go shopping.”

“Go on now.”

“Sure? I don't want to leave you with everything.”

“I'm sure. Me and Kristy are going to my parents' house tonight and her parents' house tomorrow night, so there isn't much to do. You've got sick kids to fuss over and a special present to buy.”

“Right.”

Five minutes later, Martin was out the door and hiking down the path to the barn. Once he got there, he paused, knowing the right thing to do would be to go to the house and check in with Ruth and the children. To see if they needed anything.

But he knew that would take at least an hour. It took time to check in on seven people. And suddenly, he realized that he had things to do.

Christmas had come in spite of everything, and it was time to stop wishing things were different and start looking forward. And there was only one way to do that, by giving something of himself, starting with his heart.

Ruth was using the dining room table as a makeshift laundry station. She'd just brought up a fresh batch of towels, sheets, and dresses from the lines crisscrossing the basement and was carefully folding a pair of pillowcases when she spied Martin leaving the barn in his horse and buggy.

For a moment, she stared after him in shock, surprised that he would be so close yet not stop in at the house to check on the children.

“
Nee
, Ruth,” she murmured to herself. “You can pretend for the rest of the world that you are only thinking of the
kinner
, but you know better. You are disappointed that he didn't stop in to check on you.”

She frowned as she heard the one word that was still a lie float in her conscious. “All right,” she mumbled as she smoothed a towel, then folded it into a neat rectangle. “Not check. You wanted him to visit you. To say hello to you.”

Unfortunately, being completely honest didn't make her feel any better.

“That's no fault of his though,” she whispered to herself. “That is yours, expecting so much.” And that was true.

After placing the last towel neatly on the top of the stack, she picked up a red dress of Meg's and shook out the wrinkles before placing it on a hanger.

For the first time in well, forever, she was allowing herself to feel and hope. She was growing to love the children, and, she realized with a shock of awareness, she was even growing to love Martin.

Last night, when they'd worked on that puzzle by candlelight, she'd never been happier. He'd gazed at her like she was something special.

But more important, she'd felt like she was something special. She felt she was more than just his hired girl, and the children's hired nurse. She'd felt completely wanted.

Looking at the stacks of sheets and towels, at the hangers holding brightly colored little-girl dresses, Ruth realized she'd also allowed herself to want more. For the first time, she was daring to want a family, to want to be seen as someone important.

As someone desirable.

Just as she was about to pick up the towels and return them to the linen closet she noticed a buggy rolling up the drive. When it rolled to a stop in front of the house, she blinked and then blinked again.

Because out of it came three women, and one of them was Lovina Keim.

Unable to stop herself, Ruth grimaced.

Then, of course, she immediately felt bad about that. Looking up at the ceiling, she found herself praying out loud again. “I suppose You have a reason for bringing her here, Lord? Or, perhaps, You are simply showing me that You have an unusual sense of humor. A mighty unusual one at that.”

“Ruth, someone's here,” Katrina announced as she ran down the stairs.

“Don't run, child. You're going to hurt yourself.”

“I won't.”

“You mean you haven't yet,” she cautioned. “Let's tackle one problem at a time, please,” she said just as a knock came at the door.

“Do you know who's here?”

“I do.” Remembering that Lovina wasn't exactly the children's favorite person, either, she decided to forgo a warning. Instead, she attempted to smooth the worry from her expression and opened the door wide. “Hello, Lovina. I was folding the laundry in the dining room and saw your buggy.”

Lovina looked her over, then peered at Katrina. “Hello, dear.”

Katrina grasped Ruth's hand but said nothing.

“Please come in,” Ruth said, smiling hesitantly at the two other women. “It's cold outside.”

“Ruth, this is my granddaughter, Viola Swartz. And this is Annie. She's a guest in my home, and one of Viola and Ed's missionary friends.”

“Pleased to meet you. I'm Ruth. I'm, ah, helping out here for a few days. And this is Katrina.”

Lovina glanced at Katrina again, then stilled. “What's wrong with you? You've got something all over your face.”

“I have the chicken pox.”

“Chicken pox? When did that happen?”

“When Gregory got it.”

Viola and Annie giggled at Katrina's comment.

Ruth had to bite back her own temptation to giggle. But not only from Katrina's matter-of-fact answer but Lovina's response, too. Honestly, Lovina was looking at Katrina like she had a strange, deadly virus instead of a common childhood ailment. Then she remembered that not everyone got it at a young age. Warily, she asked, “Have all of you had chicken pox? If not you should probably stay far away from here.”

“Bit too late for that. I've had it. And I remember Viola and her twin getting it when they were three or four. What about you, Annie?”

“I've gotten it, too. So we're all safe.”

Ruth exhaled. “That's good news. Now, I fear I must let you know that Martin isn't here.” She stopped herself just in time from saying that he'd just left in his horse and buggy.

“Oh, we didn't come to see him,” Lovina said airily as she slipped off her coat, then reached for Annie's and Viola's cloaks. “We came to see you.”

“Me?”

Lovina looked a tad chagrined. “I must admit to feeling a little bit guilty, cajoling you to be here.”

“I'm glad you did,” Ruth blurted. “I've loved being here.” She smiled at Katrina, who was once again staring at her in a worried way. “I've truly enjoyed being around these
kinner
. And Martin, too.”

“And Martin, too,” Lovina murmured. “Hmm.”

Feeling a bit self-conscious, Ruth led them into the kitchen. “I could make some
kaffi
, if you would like some?”

“I would. And once more, I can make it.”

“No, I . . .”

“Oh, look!” Annie said, directing everyone's attention to the doorway.

Where the other five kids were staring at Lovina with varying degrees of dread. “You came back,” Karin blurted.

“And you should be pleased about that, given that the lot of you look like a litter of Dalmatians,” Lovina retorted.

The children scowled.

Annie gasped.

Viola moaned.

But as Ruth gazed at the precious kids, all dressed in flannel nightgowns and pajamas and wearing a whole assortment of mismatched socks on their feet, each one more covered with spots than the last . . . she knew Lovina was right.