The Judgment (35 page)

D
ozens of coats and bonnets were piled up outside on the schoolhouse porch. And because each item of clothing looked similar, Rose was glad they’d taken care to sew colorful name tags inside with special embroidery that glowed in the dark. The sun would be down by the time the Christmas Eve program was over.

Inside the schoolroom, paper snowflakes decorated each window. So many folk were in attendance, they had to double up at each student’s desk, and the benches set up across the back and side walls were filling quickly.

When Rose had attended as a girl, she’d volunteered her fourth-grade year to do a chalk drawing of a wintry scene on the blackboard. And now, recalling that particular Christmas, she realized it had been Rebekah Bontrager who’d helped her draw the row of snowmen in the picture.

Rose dared not look to see if Rebekah had come to the popular program. Could Annie Mast get along without Rebekah more often than once every other Sunday night for Singings?

Still, Rose felt uncomfortable, knowing the Reuben Goods were present. She’d seen Sarah and Anna Mae and their mother coming up the road in their family buggy. Rose hadn’t been able to see if Silas was indeed scrunched in the back, but she was certain he’d come along, too. Who’d want to miss this?

A large curtain hung across the front of the open room, allowing the students to line up without being seen. Rose saw no sign of the teacher, who’d planned this occasion for quite some time, hoping her pupils would do well and remember their memorized poems and skits, just as they’d rehearsed.

All the happy memories of special school days came rushing back as Rose scooted over to share a desk with her newlywed cousin, now Esther Glick. They dared not speak or even whisper, since the place would be in chaos if everyone did so. Accordingly, they merely exchanged smiles.

When it was time to begin, a tiny first grader came out from behind the curtain and stepped onto the small square box of a platform. Rose could see Mattie Sue clasp Hen’s hand and lean forward where the two of them sat on a bench on the side, over near Silas’s mother and sisters. Rose held her breath, hoping the young pupil would remember every line of his Christmas poem, which he was reciting in English. She let out a relieved breath when he did, and there were many encouraging smiles and even a few little chuckles, perhaps from the boy’s parents or older siblings. But, as was their way, no applause.

There were eleven poetry recitations, five short skits, and two readings in all, and everything culminated in the students singing “O Come, All Ye Faithful” as a rousing end to a wonderful-good afternoon. After that, there was a half hour of audience singing—one of Rose’s favorite parts. She joined her voice in unison with the others as they heartily sang the familiar carols, beginning with “It Came Upon a Midnight Clear.”

By the time the play was finished, the children were eager to give their presents to the teacher—apples and oranges, links of sausage, jams and jellies, embroidered hankies, quilted potholders, and even a couple of hams. Each of the children in turn received wrapped candies and two new pencils and a pen from the teacher.

The members of the audience were remembered, as well, with candy canes. Rose noticed Mattie Sue removing the wrapping from hers, all smiles.
Dear little girl,
Rose thought, hoping her Christmas might be truly happy in every way
.
She wondered how things were going for her sister and brother-in-law, since Brandon was clearly reliant upon Hen to get around.

When will his sight return? And what then?

Sometime later, during the merry mingling which followed the conclusion of the program, Rose noticed Silas present for the first time. Just as she presumed, he’d come, though he wasn’t standing with his family, but rather was wedged into the far corner.

At first, Rose thought he was alone, but the young woman standing near him turned slightly—Rebekah. The two of them appeared deep in conversation, though Silas was definitely doing most of the talking. He was laughing now, and Rebekah beamed in evident delight as she shifted, allowing Rose a better view. Rebekah was a very attentive listener, her eyes focused on Silas as he leaned forward, face alight as they talked. Had he ever looked at Rose with such tender affection?

Then, as if Rose’s steady stare had sent out a signal to him, Silas turned and caught her eye, his face reddening. Suddenly, Rose’s face felt too warm as an uncomfortable moment passed between them . . . and lingered. Yet, in that awkward moment, the truth was laid bare: Silas’s heart plainly yearned for Rebekah.

All during the sleigh ride home, Rose considered the undeniable affection she’d witnessed between them. She recalled the other times she’d inadvertently observed their fondness for each other. The shared looks, the furtive smiles—it was as if they were magnets, unable to stay too far apart. Even Rebekah’s returning to Lancaster County confirmed that.

The sky was windswept and blustery, and Rose shivered in the straw as the muted
clip-clop
s of horses’ hooves padded against the snow. She slipped her arm around Mattie Sue, who was sandwiched cozily between Rose and Hen. Mattie’s hands were burrowed deep into her fluffy white muff, and she kept her head down against the cold.

Manes flying, the horses pulled the sleigh around the bend and into the driveway. Rose filled her lungs with the frosty air and sent a silent prayer for wisdom heavenward.

And then, amidst the sparkling snow and crisp air, she knew just what to do.

After all, it’s Christmas,
she thought.

Christmas morning, Mattie Sue woke up early and crawled into Hen’s bed to snuggle. She whispered that she’d made a present for Daddy. “But don’t tell, okay?”

Hen sleepily agreed.

“He doesn’t think Santa Claus comes here . . . but that’s all right.”

Hen gave Mattie a peck on the forehead.

“It’s more fun to give presents, anyway,” Mattie Sue announced. “I like watchin’ people when they open them.”

“That’s so true, honey. It’s better to give than to receive.” Hen kissed Mattie’s forehead and hoped Brandon’s eyes might somehow be opened to the wonder of Christmas this year.

Her husband was still sleeping when Hen made her way down the steps to start cooking breakfast. She made a few notes on her small tablet near the sink as she thought ahead to the big turkey dinner scheduled for just before noon. Three of her married brothers—Josh, Enos, and Mose—were coming with their families. Her four remaining brothers had plans to have Christmas dinner with their in-laws. Often such holiday celebrations extended well into February, given the many siblings and combinations of in-laws and other relatives eager to see them and share a feast.

Hen looked forward to Brandon’s finally meeting all her brothers, yet she knew she ought to go easy with him on any social expectations. The pain in his ribs and broken arm, as well as his continuing headaches, made him uncomfortable and touchy, even with pain medication. He’d come here, after all, to rest and be cared for. Hen had seen to it last evening after she and Mattie had returned from the school to have a quiet supper alone as a family. Brandon had seemed somewhat subdued, though he had appeared to make an effort to be pleasant. Even so, she sensed he was already weary of his predicament.

She tried to put herself in his shoes, hampered by sudden blindness and, as time passed, wondering if today would be the day his sight might return . . . or if seeing again was even possible.

When Brandon came slowly down the stairs in his bathrobe and slippers, he ran his hand along the wall to find his way into the kitchen, then reached out to locate the counter, where he came to stand near her. “Merry Christmas, Hen,” he said. “I didn’t have time to get you or Mattie Sue anything.” He blinked and rubbed his stubbled chin. If her husband went much longer without shaving, his face would soon blend in with Hen’s father’s and brothers’ . . . and their beloved bishop’s.

“Oh, don’t worry,” she said, guiding him. “After all, the best gift is being together.” When Hen smiled up at him, she wished with all of her heart that Brandon could see the smile meant just for him.

Sol was thankful Hen, Rose Ann, and their brothers had swiftly prepared the large kitchen to accommodate the extra family members now seated around the extended table. Red and green Christmas decorations, brought along by their school-age grandchildren as surprises for Sol and Emma, adorned the windows. Sol was especially pleased his wife had made an effort to be present, as well, sitting in her wheelchair to his right at the head of the table.

While the womenfolk scurried about to get all the hot dishes on the table, he looked down the row on the right side and noticed Hen’s husband perched stiffly there on the long wooden bench, his cast situated between his chest and the table’s edge. Mattie Sue leaned her head against Brandon’s good arm, stroking his hand, and Sol struggled to keep his emotions in check.

Once the stuffed turkey and gravy, mashed potatoes, corn, homemade noodles, lima beans, and chowchow were set before them, Sol waited till everyone was seated with folded hands. Then he said a warm “willkumm” to Hen’s husband. His elder daughter’s face shone with both joy and perspiration from working over the hot cookstove. “Most of all this Christmas, we are grateful to God for sparing Brandon’s life,” he said.

Everyone at the table nodded and said “jah” in agreement, and Brandon offered a somewhat self-conscious nod in return.

Then, bowing his head, Sol prayed the silent
Sege
—blessing—for these gracious provisions from the Father’s own hand. He made the customary sound in his throat and raised his head, reaching for his water glass. He looked toward dear Emma and asked her what she’d like to eat. When she indicated she wasn’t very hungry, he coaxed her to at least have a small slice of turkey and some potatoes, which she accepted.

The tinkle of Emma’s fine glassware and best china was soon accompanied by the pleasant hum of family chatter. Josh and Enos, the more talkative of his sons present, tried to strike up a conversation with Brandon as they sat across from him. Even Hen attempted to draw out her husband, but the man was silent, clearly wounded inside and out.

Solomon ate his fill, ever mindful of his family and precious wife. Halfway through the meal, he leaned toward her. “Just say when you’re ready to lie down again, dear. I’ll help ya back into bed.”

After all the serving dishes had been passed, Mattie Sue slipped out of her spot on the bench and came over to ask Emma if she wanted any food from the far end of the table. Sol’s heart was warmed by Hen’s little girl. He thanked the Lord for each grandchild there at the table today, as well as those celebrating Christ’s birth with other family members nearby.

Keep them ever in your loving care, O Father.

Hen and Brandon excused themselves to return next door, and Mattie Sue asked politely if she might stay and play with her close-in-age cousins. Hen agreed, pleased to see her daughter so anxious to be well mannered.
She’s come such a long way.

At the little Dawdi Haus, Hen stayed with her husband to help him up the stairs to rest. He said his head was throbbing and had been all during the dessert offerings of fruit pies, carrot cake, and chocolate chip cookies. “I thought dessert would never end,” he concluded.