Snowfall (2 page)

Lovina nodded before following her grandson out the door. She turned around quickly and said, “In the meantime, I hope you will enjoy the casserole.”

For the first time since he'd walked in the door, a spark of interest lit his eyes. “Ah, yes. It will be a treat to have a homemade dish. What kind is it?”

“Liver and onions.”

She was so pleased to be walking out the door she almost didn't feel remorseful about the look of dismay on Martin's face.

She had freedom at last! It had never felt so sweet.

Our mamm was real pretty. She used to laugh and tease Daed when he grumbled. Her name was Mamm.

Katrina, Age 9

The moment the Keims' black buggy rolled away, Martin breathed a sigh of relief. He respected Lovina Keim, he truly did. Pretty much everyone in Berlin respected the matriarch of the Keim family.

But he also found her exhausting.

Which was really too bad, because he'd been hoping that she would be the answer to his prayers. When Freida had asked for a whole month of vacation, he hadn't had the heart to refuse her request. Freida did so much for all of them.

Lovina stepping in had solved everything. But instead of restoring order in his house and comforting his children, the formidable lady had managed to allow even more chaos.

He honestly hadn't thought that could be possible.

Every night when he went to sleep, Martin asked God why He'd chosen him to carry so many burdens. There had to be a reason he was a widower raising six children all alone. Had to be.

It wasn't that he was resentful.
Nee
, far from that. The truth of the matter was that he didn't really mind having a lot of responsibility. And though he still mourned the loss of his sweet wife, Grace, Martin had come to terms with her death. It was no one's fault that she had a weak heart that had been further weakened by six pregnancies.

No one had known about that—well, no one but the Lord.

If Martin had known about her heart, he would have made sure to get her to the best doctors, made sure she received the best treatment possible.

But Grace hadn't been the type of woman to complain, and he hadn't been the type of man to question when she hadn't looked quite like herself. Now he had to live with the guilt and the knowledge that if he had been a little bit more concerned about Grace's health instead of merely trying to keep the farm afloat, his wife might still be by his side.

And now his problems seemed to keep snowballing. These days there were many moments when he ached to simply sit down, close his eyes, and let the rest of the world continue on without him.

Here it was, less than two weeks until Christmas. His busiest time of the year at their Christmas-tree farm, and he had no idea how he was going to care for his children. To make matters worse, he needed to keep focused on work. Last year business had been especially slow and they hadn't made anywhere near the profit they usually did. Consequently, he'd had to take out a loan to help pay his bills. Now he owed money to the bank and to his partner, Floyd. If he couldn't pay it back soon he might even lose the house. He might even lose the farm.

He had to make things right. But he couldn't do that if he had to stay home with the
kinner
.

Walking to the kitchen sink, he turned on the faucet and squirted a generous amount of dish soap onto the stack of dishes. As soapy water filled the sink, he found his mind drifting to better times.

Back when he was seventeen, Martin had finally taken matters into his own hands and moved to Ohio. He'd grown up just outside Shipshewana with his three brothers and two sisters, in a family that was far from perfect. His parents were two people who were perfectly nice on their own. But together? It was as if someone had lit a fuse between them. His earliest memory was listening to them argue and fight.

When he'd met Grace at a singing one Sunday evening when he was sixteen, he'd been sure she was the woman for him. It had been she who'd encouraged him to leave Indiana and move to Ohio, cautioning him that everyone had to find their happiness one way or another.

So they'd moved, against his parents' wishes, against her parents' advice. Against his siblings' warnings that he was making a mighty big mistake.

But Grace had held his hand and gazed up at him with sweet, shining eyes full of trust. And with that trust, he'd imagined anything was possible.

And for a while, everything had gone smoothly. He and Grace had worked hard. He'd made a fast friend out of Floyd Miller, and ten years ago, the two of them had bought the Christmas-tree farm, which had been on its last leg.

In no time at all, he and Floyd had been growing trees and marketing the farm. They'd turned a profit the first year. With the profits, they'd invested in the farm, each fixed up his home a bit, and they had planned for the future.

But then everything had changed two years ago, when his precious Grace died. While he tried to deal with his grief and his children's, the farm went into a slump. He was still trying to pull everyone out.

This year was supposed to be better. But here it was, less than two weeks until Christmas, and there was no snow. No snow for sleigh rides. No snow for the farm's almost-famous sledding hill. No snow for the Englischer tourists who loved to come to Amish country to tromp through the Snowfall Christmas Tree Farm, pay for sleigh rides, pay for sledding hills, pay for photographs in the winter wonderland.

For the last two weeks, all they'd had was bitter cold and brown, desolate-looking fields. And hardly a tourist in sight.

“Daed? Da-ed!”

“Huh?” With a start, Martin realized he'd been staring blankly out the window over the sink, his hands submerged in the hot, soapy water, for several minutes. And while he'd been doing that, all the
kinner
had snuck back downstairs.

They were currently standing in the kitchen. Looking hesitant and worried. Nervous.

He hated that. He pulled out a mixing bowl, rinsed it carefully, then started drying it. “What is it, Thomas?”

“Is Miss Lovina comin' back tomorrow?” Thomas somehow managed to curl his lip, as if his tone of voice wasn't displaying his displeasure enough.

“It doesn't look like it.”

“
Gut
. I didn't like her.”

“Son, that ain't no way to talk about your elders. You should be respectful.”

“I thought it wasn't disrespectful if you were tellin' the truth. And you like us telling the truth, right, Daed?”

“
Jah
. Yes, of course. But still . . .”

“Besides, I don't think she liked us, neither,” one of the twins said as she stepped a little closer to one of Martin's legs as he set the bowl on the countertop, then picked up a measuring cup. “Every time she looked at us, she frowned. And she frowned a lot, Daddy.”

Martin secretly thought Karin might be right. Lovina had looked at Roman like he was helping her escape a terrible, dark place.

And while he knew his
kinner
were challenging, they certainly weren't terrible. “Each of you grab a towel and help me dry these dishes.”

To his amazement, each of his children, even Meg, went to one of the drawers and grabbed a towel. Then, for the next ten minutes, he washed and rinsed, and the
kinner
dried dishes.

When that was done, Martin opened the door to the refrigerator, pulled out the covered container, and set it out on the counter. “At least she cooked supper,” he pointed out. “So, who is up for some liver and onions?” He was particularly proud of himself for sounding rather upbeat about the dish.

“Not me,” said Katrina.

“Me, neither,” Thomas said after Martin pulled off the foil covering. “It looks like dog food.”

“Thomas, it doesn't look like dog food.” At least, not exactly. And well, not even Frank was sniffing it, and he ate everything, even candles.

Feeling a tug on his shirt, he discovered his youngest was looking up at him with wide eyes. “Are you gonna eat it, Daed?”

Meg looked so frightened about the idea that he had to laugh. “
Nee
,” he declared as he picked her up and pressed his lips to her temple. “I don't care for liver and onions. Or dog food.”

“What are we going to eat for supper then?” Karin, their resident worrier, asked.

“How does scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast sound?”

“Daed, we had that last night,” his eldest pointed out.

“You don't have to eat eggs and bacon if you'd rather not, Katrina,” he said patiently. “In fact, you may have as much liver-and-onion casserole as you would like.”

When the
kinner
started laughing, he did, too. When it came to choosing between laughter and tears, he now chose the former. The good Lord knew he'd certainly cried his fair share of tears.

More than enough.

I want a kitten for Christmas. I think Frank does, too.

Meg, Age 4

Day 3 of Christmas Break

Martin had become a master at sipping coffee and pretending that he hadn't a care on his mind. But if there was ever a time when he found it rather difficult, it was this morning.

And that was because they were currently waiting for one Ruth Stutzman. He knew next to nothing about her. They belonged to different church districts, and he couldn't remember ever meeting her in town, either.

Though that shouldn't have been a great surprise. He didn't ever notice women, even women who his friends slyly mentioned were giving him special smiles or were going out of their way to chat with him. As far as he was concerned, his heart belonged to Grace and it always would.

After walking to the stove and warming up his cup, Martin realized that he didn't know much about Ruth Stutzman at all. Only that she was an acquaintance of Lovina Keim's, that she'd recently lost her job at the retirement home, and that she had agreed to help him care for his children during Christmas break.

Everything about the situation grated on him. He didn't like that Lovina Keim had told Ruth all about him. And all about his motherless
kinner
. And how he couldn't cook and how he was in dire need of a helping hand. Or several helping hands.

He'd been so appalled, he'd almost told Lovina that he didn't need her help to find a nanny.

But because he did, and because he had no idea how to contact this Ruth and had no other option for the children other than packing them up and taking them to work at the Christmas-tree farm, he'd instead conveyed his thanks.

But that didn't mean he liked being known as a helpless widower, or that he appreciated that folks at the Daybreak Retirement Home were talking about him.

It hurt a man's pride to be thought of as a charity case.

It almost physically hurt to realize that he was going to have to accept this Ruth Stutzman's help no matter what. He was that desperate. The trees weren't going to get chopped, transported, and sold by themselves. It was his job, which was why he'd said yes to Ruth, though just imagining what Ruth would be like made him cringe.

Already he was imagining an older woman with a bossy nature. After all, who else but a woman like that would be friends with Lovina Keim?

No doubt she would barely tolerate his brood, frown a lot, speak her mind even when no one asked for her opinion, and concentrate on keeping order in his home.

If they were lucky.

And though he would never allow a woman into his home who would be mean to his
kinner
, he was enough of a realist to realize that taking care of six
kinner
like his was enough to make even the kindest and most patient of women become a bit shrewish. Even his lovely Grace had lost her patience a time or two over the course of a day.

It was likely their temporary babysitter would lose patience, too.

And because of that, Martin knew his children would be sad and miserable. And, perhaps, a touch resentful that while their many friends were out playing, baking cookies, and doing whatever else small children liked to do over Christmas vacation, they were having to spend their days in the company of a grumpy old woman named Ruth.

Now, after working all day at the Christmas-tree farm, he was going to have to return each day, prepared to cajole his children to try to deal with Ruth just a little bit longer.

“Daed, do you see her?” Thomas asked from the doorway leading into the dining room that they never used anymore.

“Not yet.”

“Is she late?”

Thomas was a busy, buzzing child. As restless as a beaver on holiday and twice as inquisitive. “
Nee
, son. She ain't late yet.”

“Then why are you staring out the window and frowning?”

“I'm simply looking out the window and thinking. There's a difference.”

“Ah.” Pulling over a chair, Thomas settled by his side and mimicked his pose. “What are you thinking about?”

“This and that.”

“Are you thinking about Christmas?” His question had just the right amount of hope in it to make Martin's lips curve up.

“I'm thinking about Christmas trees.”

Thomas sighed. “That's all you think about.”

“That is not true. I think about lots of other things, too.”

“But mainly you think about trees.”

Not in any hurry to share just how much he worried about Thomas and his siblings, Martin lifted his chin. “Son, those trees occupy a good portion of my mind these days for a
gut
reason. They're important to our livelihood. We need to sell lots of trees this year.”

“Oh? Do ya think, maybe, we could have a tree in our house?”

At least one of the children asked this every year. “Nope.”

“Even if it was a small, ugly one that nobody else wanted?”