An Amish Christmas Promise Read online

  He couldn’t keep from smiling back as their gazes met and held.

  A nudge against his back broke the link between them, and Michael wasn’t sure how long he’d stood there savoring her smile. He grabbed flatware rolled into a paper napkin before striding to the table.

  “I told you to be careful,” chided the old man with a grin as he stood and helped his wife gather their dishes. “Something sweet can knock a man right off his feet.”

  Michael hoped his friends hadn’t heard the comments, but they laughed as they sat beside him. He bent over his plate for grace and watched from the corners of his eyes as James and Benjamin did the same.

  Before they could tease him further, Michael began talking about the orientation session they were required to attend after breakfast. He didn’t give either man a chance to change the subject, but he wondered why he’d bothered when he saw the grins they wore as they ate. He wasn’t fooling anyone, not even himself. He looked forward to getting to know Carolyn better, but that’s where he’d have to draw the line.

  She was involved in her Mennonite congregation, and he had no idea if he intended to remain Amish. She didn’t need to have him dump his mess of a life on her when she was trying to rebuild everything that had been lost.

  * * *

  She was a total mess.

  But so was everyone else in Evergreen Corners.

  Carolyn laughed as she thought of how Gladys Whittaker, their mayor, never used to appear in public without every hair in place. Since the flood, mud on her face seemed to be the mayor’s favorite fashion accessory. Elton Hershey had had stains on his pants when he gave the sermon on Sunday. Nobody had complained about their kindhearted pastor, because everyone was fighting to get rid of mud from their clothing, too.

  She squatted by the brook that had changed course. There was talk that the water would be forced back into its proper channel, but it was a low priority while people needed places to live.

  Washing mud off her hands, Carolyn winced as her back reminded her of the hard work she’d done. She’d joined five others cleaning out a house that had been inundated. Once they’d gotten the mud off the floors, they spent hours removing soaked drywall before mold could grow inside the walls. She’d carried the heavy pieces of wet plaster to a pile in the yard while someone else had sprayed the two-by-fours with a mold killer.

  Her hands ached as well as her elbows, shoulders and back. It’d be quicker to count the muscles that didn’t hurt. Taking care of two children and raising chickens and baking hadn’t prepared her for such physical work.

  Hearing the flap-flap sound of a helicopter, Carolyn glanced up. It was rising from the football field behind the school. She wondered what had been delivered. She hoped fresh milk. The children were complaining about the taste of powdered milk. There were a half-dozen dairy farms on the other side of the ridge, but no way to get to them. Too many roads and bridges had been destroyed, and what would have been a ten minute drive before the flood now took hours.

  She stood, holding her hands against her lower back to silence the protest from her muscles. When she saw four chickens pecking at the ground, she smiled. Mr. Aiken had told them to feel free to use whatever they found in the barn. She’d seen a bucket of corn by one stall. A couple of handfuls might draw the chickens back. That would ease the children’s distress.

  What Kevin and Rose Anne needed was a home. Their house hadn’t been big, and most of the ancient mechanicals had needed attention she didn’t know how to give. She and the children had become accustomed to faucets dripping. She’d locked off the back bedroom, fearful Kevin and Rose Anne would tumble through weak boards into the cellar. Now, the cellar hole was the sole remnant of the comfortable old house.

  Seeing some broken boards heaped against stones at the brook’s edge, Carolyn went to pull them out of the water, one by one. If nobody else claimed them, she could use them to build a new chicken coop.

  “For all I know, Father,” she said as she dropped another board on top of the two she’d pulled out, “these are what’s left of my old coop. But I want them to go to whoever needs them most.”

  A shadow slipped over her, and Carolyn looked skyward. Was it going to rain again? Panic gripped her throat, threatening to keep her from drawing another breath.

  “Would you like some help?” came a deep voice.

  She turned. Michael’s light-blue shirt and black suspenders weren’t as filthy as her dress and apron were, and she guessed he’d come from the volunteers’ orientation class. The sessions were simple, but outlined who was in charge of what and when someone should seek help before making a decision. They had ended the chaos of the first two days after the flood.

  “I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said.

  “You didn’t.”

  “Something is upsetting you. I’ve seen more color in fresh snow than on your face.”

  She let her sore shoulders relax. “Okay, you did scare me. I was deep in my thoughts.”

  “This is all that’s left?” He looked down into the cellar hole. “There’s nothing but mud.”

  “Everything washed away. The furnace, the water heater and the jars of fruits and vegetables I put up in August. I haven’t told the children yet. I know they aren’t going to be happy with grocery store canned vegetables.”

  He wrinkled his nose. “Sometimes it seems you can’t tell the difference between the vegetables in the can and the can itself.”

  “You’ve taken a bite out of a can?”

  “Of course not.” He chuckled. “You don’t like exaggeration, ain’t so?”

  She made sure her reaction to “ain’t so,” a common Amish term, wasn’t visible. “I’m a low-key person, Michael. I prefer to keep things simple.”

  “And you’re exhausted.”

  She resisted the yearning to check her reflection in the slow waters of the brook to see how bad she looked. “I guess that’s obvious.”

  “Why wouldn’t you be tired? You were up early this morning to make breakfast for us, and now you’re taking care of your chickens.” His eyes narrowed as his gaze settled on the stack of wood. “Have you been pulling those out on your own?”

  “I thought I could use the boards to build a chicken coop.”

  “A gut idea.” Without another word, he waded into the water. He stretched out and grabbed a board beyond her reach.

  Tears flooded Carolyn’s eyes as she watched him lift out the planks and set them with the others with an ease she couldn’t have copied. She blinked them away. She must be more exhausted than she’d guessed.

  Five minutes later, the wood was stacked. She thanked him, but he waved aside her gratitude before bending to wash his hands in the brook as she had.

  “What do you call this stream?” he asked as he straightened and wiped his hands on the sides of his black broadfall trousers.

  “Washboard Brook.”

  “Brook?” He shook his head, then pushed his brown hair back out of his eyes. “I never imagined anything called a brook could do all the damage this one has.”

  “I didn’t, either. I don’t think anyone did.”

  “You’ve never had a flood here before?”

  “I’ve learned that if the snow up on the peaks melts really fast, we get some minor flooding. Puddles in yards and maybe a splash over onto the road where it’s low.” She flung out her hands. “Nothing like this.”

  “Have you considered leaving?”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  “Not once?”

  Wanting to be truthful—or at least partially because she couldn’t mention Leland’s name—rather than making believe she could endure anything nature could throw against the town, she said, “I’ve got to admit when I watched our home collapse and get sucked down into the water I wanted to run as fast as I could in any direction away from the flood.”

  “But you’re still here.”

  “It’s home.”

  “So you grew up here?”

  Carolyn berated herself. She should have seen the direction their conversation could go and changed the topic before it touched on dangerous territory.

  Knowing she must not appear to hesitate, she said, “No, but I’ve lived here for a while. For me, Evergreen Corners is home, and I hope it always will be.”

  That was a prayer she said every night before sleep, because if she had to leave, it would be in an attempt to escape from Leland Reber once and for all.

  Chapter Three

  The first project meeting for Carolyn’s new house was scheduled for ten the next morning. Initially it had been set for eight, but she was signed up to serve breakfast. Some volunteers and government officials came in RVs, and they brought their own food. However, most arrived eager to work with tools and skills and not much else. Fortunately, fewer locals were depending on the community center’s kitchen to provide their meals because some sections of town now had electricity again.

  But the steady whir of generators hadn’t decreased in the center of the village. Long orange extension cords snaked from the four in the school parking lot.

  She stepped over the cords with care, holding Rose Anne on her hip. The little girl had woken with a sore throat. Though Carolyn suspected it was because she’d been yelling too much yesterday in games at the day care center, she agreed to the child’s demands to stay with her. Kevin had been glad to have his friends to himself, and Rose Anne seemed to perk up as soon as they headed toward the school.

  Carolyn reached to open the door, but a hand stretched past her to grasp the handle. Seeing Michael and his two friends, she greeted them. She hadn’t been sure if they’d be coming to the meeting, too, and she was glad to see the men who’d invited her and the children to share supper with them the previous night.

  Rose Anne wiggled to get down as soon as Carolyn carried her into the school. The little girl threw her arms around one of Michael’s legs and begged him for a piggyback ride.

  “You don’t have to do that,” Carolyn told him.

  He gave her a quick smile. Squatting, he waited for the child to lock her hands around his neck before he stood. He kept one arm against her to keep her steady as he loped a few yards along the hallway and back again.

  “Go, horsey!” she called in excitement.

  He set her on her feet, though she pleaded for another ride.

  “One ride per customer,” he said, tapping her freckled nose.

  “Later?” Rose Anne persisted.

  “Let’s see what later brings.” Carolyn put her hands on the child’s shoulders and smiled her thanks to Michael. “I warned you offering rides to the kids last night was going to get you in trouble.”

  “Gut trouble, though.”

  “We’ll see when all the children in town are asking for rides after you’ve put in a full day’s work.” She took Rose Anne by the hand and began walking toward the gym.

  The three men followed her, talking in Deitsch. The words fell like precious rain on her ears, but she chatted with Rose Anne as if none of what they were saying made sense to her. She wasn’t surprised the men were eager to get started. No plain man was accustomed to sitting in a classroom when work waited to be done. When she’d been growing up, every man she’d known had toiled from before sunrise to after dark. It didn’t matter if the man was a farmer or had a job in one of the nearby factories or owned his own shop. Being idle wasn’t part of the Amish lifestyle.

  A woman Carolyn didn’t know stood in front of the gym’s closed double doors. Everything about her pose shouted she would tolerate no nonsense. When Carolyn said her name, the woman checked it on the clipboard she carried.

  “Please wait out here,” the woman said. “We’re running about a half hour behind schedule.”

  “All right.” Carolyn walked to the plastic chairs. Dropping into one, she lifted Rose Anne onto her lap. She should have borrowed a book from the day care center to keep the little girl entertained.

  Michael sat next to her as his friends walked down the hall. Before she could ask, he said, “They’re going to go look for something to do for the next half hour.”

  “You don’t need to wait with us.”

  “The time will go faster if you’ve got someone to talk to.”

  Sliding Rose Anne off her lap when her niece began to wiggle, Carolyn told her to stay in sight. The little girl nodded and began to jump from one black tile to the next on the checkered floor.

  “I appreciate you staying here, but it’s not necessary,” Carolyn said, keeping her eyes on the child who could scurry away like a rabbit running from a dog. “I’m not sure I want the time to go faster.”

  “Nervous?” Disbelief deepened his voice. “Why? These people are here to help you.”

  “It’s not easy to ask others for help.”

  “I get that.” He leaned back, crossed his arms over his chest and stretched his long legs out, much to Rose Anne’s delight as she began to leap over them. “But you’ve got to think about your kinder—I mean, your children.”

  “They’re pretty much all I think about.” She wondered why it was so easy to be honest with Michael, whom she hadn’t known two days ago. “I’d do anything to make sure they’ve got a safe place to live.”

  “Even deal with bureaucrats?” He reached out to steady Rose Anne when she almost tripped over his boots.

  Carolyn smiled. “When you put it that way, going through this meeting isn’t too much to ask, is it?”

  “Only you can answer that.”

  “I thought I did.”

  His laugh resonated down the otherwise empty hall. “Do you always speak plainly?”

  “No.”

  “I guess I should feel honored.”

  “I guess you should.” She was about to add more, then realized the little girl was partway around a corner. Calling Rose Anne back, she said, “I shouldn’t have given in to her make-believe sore throat this morning. I should have insisted she stay at day care.” She crooked a finger at her niece who was edging toward the end of the hall again. “They’re accustomed to having me around, especially Rose Anne. She’s been going to nursery school, but it’s not the same as being left at the day care center all day, every day.”

  “So she convinced you to let her come with you.”

  “She didn’t have to try hard.” She held out her hand, and her niece ran over to take it. “I like spending time with my Rosie Annie.”

  The little girl giggled as she leaned on Carolyn’s knee. “I’m sweat smelling, like a rose. That’s what Mommy always says.”

  “Maybe not always, but you do smell sweet today.” She ruffled the child’s silken hair. Rose Anne had no memories of her real mother, and Kevin seemed to have forgotten Carolyn was his aunt. She thanked God every morning and night for that, though she prayed there would come a time when she could be honest. “Last night, you were dirty. It took a while to get you clean so you smelled as sweet as a rose again.” To Michael, who was grinning at how Rose Anne had called herself “sweat smelling,” she added, “We’re pretty much limited to a bucket of water each.”

  “When can I take a big-girl bath again?” Rose Anne’s voice became a whine. “I miss my bath tube and my floatie fishies.”

  She means bathtub, Carolyn mouthed so Michael could read her lips. When he nodded his understanding, she said aloud, “I can’t tell you when, but it’ll be...” She didn’t want to give the child a specific date because she didn’t have any idea how long it would take to build their new house. And she didn’t want to talk about the plastic toys Rose Anne called her floatie fishies. They had washed away with everything in the house.

  Michael stood, then dropped to one knee beside her niece. That brought his eyes almost level with Rose Anne’s. “I can tell you when your new house and new bathtub will be ready. It’s going to be right after Christmas.”

  “Christmas is a loooooooong time away,” Rose Anne argued.

  “No, it’s not. Today is October twenty-fifth, so Christmas is exactly two months away.” Holding up two fingers, he lowered first one, then the other. “One-two. See? Quick like a bunny.”

  “That’s what Mommy says. Quick like a bunny!” Rose Anne bounced with excitement. “Mr. Michael knows quick like a bunny, too.”

  “I know.” As the little girl danced and twirled along the hall, Carolyn asked, “‘Mr. Michael?’”

  “One of the ladies working at supper last night called me that, and the kids started using it.”

  “You’re good with children. Do you have any?”

  “No, but my brother has year-old twins, and there are plenty of kids in our settlement.” He surveyed the hall before adding, “My brother has his life set for him...as you do.”

  She was amazed at his wistful tone. Michael had seemed so sure of himself. Was there a tragedy in his past, too, or did he have another reason to envy his brother’s choices in life?

  The woman who’d stood by the gym doors came out and called, “Carolyn Wiebe? They’re ready for you.”

  A shiver of anxiety trilled down her back, but Carolyn stood. When Rose Anne rushed to her side, she wasn’t sure if the little girl was aware of her agitation or wanted a change of scenery after exploring every inch of the hall. Carolyn glanced at Michael who’d gotten up, too, and she knew she wasn’t hiding her nerves from him.

  But he didn’t offer her trite consolation. Instead, he motioned for her to lead the way.

  In the gym, four round tables with plenty of chairs had been placed between the two sets of bleachers. Mats remained under the basketball hoops. Rose Anne took off her shoes and ran to join the other children playing on them.

  “The kinder are having gut fun,” Michael said as the woman led them toward the most distant table.

  Carolyn recognized fellow residents who’d lost their homes, and she guessed the others were volunteers like Michael and his friends. To avoid any chance of eavesdropping on their conversations, she replied, “The kids are having more fun now than we had the first night after the flood. For lots of us, those mats were our beds. We were so exhausted we would have slept on the wood floor.”