Naomi’s Christmas (30 page)

Patting the mare, snug under the blanket Nathan always put on when the animal had
to stand in cold weather, she went quickly toward the shop door. If Bishop Mose had
customers with him, her conversation would have to wait, but if not, it was in her
mind to tell him that she had tried to make peace with Daad, even though it hadn’t
turned out well.

The shop was warm and quiet, redolent of the scents of leather and oil. New harnesses
and halters hung on pegs along the wall, but much of the work was in repairing and
remaking used harnesses, along with saddles and bridles belonging to the Englisch
customers.

Bishop Mose sat at one of his work benches, a strip of leather in front of him, but
he stood when he saw her and came to the counter, smiling. The heavy apron he wore
over his clothes was stained with neat’s-foot oil.

“Naomi, I thought that was you I saw going into the grocery.”

She approached, feeling the familiar sense of welcome that always seemed to flow from
the bishop. “I’m waiting for Nathan and the kinder to return from doing some shopping,
so I thought I would drop in to see you.”

“And to tell me something, I think?” His shrewd blue gaze rested knowingly.

Her throat tightened. “Ja. I spoke to my daad, to say how sorry I am for the breach
between us. I tried to explain why I prefer working for Nathan to moving in with my
brother. But he seemed…”

She stopped, not sure she wanted to bring up Daad’s assumption about her and Nathan.

“Ja?” Bishop Mose waited, seeming patient enough for however long this conversation
might take.

She ought to tell him everything, so that he heard it from her and no one else. “He
had heard some foolish talk about Nathan perhaps wanting to marry me.” She suspected
her cheeks had turned scarlet. It would be a relief to press her cold hands against
them, but she didn’t. “When I told him I was sure Nathan had no such idea, I thought
that would reassure him, but it just made him angry. He wouldn’t listen to me, and
he said that if I wouldn’t agree to do as he said, he had nothing else to say to me.”

Tears stung her eyes, and she tried to blink them back. There had been moments when
she’d been able to forget Daad’s words, but talking about them brought the pain back.

“This has hurt you.” The bishop’s voice was quiet, maybe even weary with the weight
of his people’s problems.

“Ja. I do not want to be at odds with my father. But what else can I do?”

He shook his head slowly. “Nothing,” he said simply. “Sometimes that is the hardest
answer to receive. We always think that there is something we can do, ain’t so? It’s
hard to
accept that there are times when we can’t do anything except wait for the good Lord
to act.”

“But Daad—”
Will he ever forgive?
She couldn’t seem to say the words, but Bishop Mose probably knew without her saying
them.

“Your Daad is hurting himself by his unbending attitude, but he doesn’t know that
yet. We will have to pray that he comes to see the truth for himself.”

“You are right.” She managed a smile. “It is hard to do nothing.”

Bishop Mose smiled in return. “Listen for God’s guidance, and don’t close your heart.
Perhaps you’ll even find that Nathan is not so opposed to marriage as you suppose.”

She shook her head. The bishop was wise, but on this subject he was wrong. Despite
those moments in the kitchen when Nathan had touched her, she knew him well enough
to know the answer.

“Nathan never thinks of that, I’m sure.”
Or did he?
There had been moments when she’d seen his awareness of her. But she couldn’t build
hope on something so fleeting. “In his heart, he is still married to his first love.”

And what of her? She had told herself she only wanted to be Nathan’s friend, but was
there something deeper buried in her heart? If so, she must ignore it. She was afraid
to hope, and the suggestions of others that she and Nathan might marry only emphasized
that if Nathan did think of marriage, it would be for the children’s sake.

“Ah.” Bishop Mose paused for a moment, looking at her. “Do you remember my wife?”

“Ja, of course,” she said, surprised at the turn of subject. “Everyone remembers how
devoted you were to each other.”

“Ja, we were.” He smiled, as if the memories were happy ones. “There is something
everyone does not remember, though. My Sarah was not my first love.”

Naomi blinked. “I didn’t realize…No one has ever mentioned…” She let the words trail
off, not sure what to say to this unexpected confidence.

“They have forgotten.” Bishop Mose’s eyes were misty, as if he were looking back into
the past. “I have nearly forgotten, myself, but it is true. Sarah always knew that
she was not my first love. But to my great good fortune, she was my last love.” He
reached across the counter to pat Naomi’s hand. “Life sometimes has great surprises
in store for us.”

Someone else had said something like that to her, and she couldn’t think who it had
been. But it made sense. Certainly her life had changed completely in only a month.

“Denke, Bishop Mose.” She hesitated, thinking that there was something more she should
say. “I do not think that Nathan and I will ever be together, but I am content to
know that I am doing what I should.”

He glanced over her head, and she realized he was looking out the window. “I see Nathan
and the kinder coming, so you must go. You are in my prayers.”

Nodding a good-bye, she went back out to meet Nathan and the children. Joshua and
Sadie came running to her, and her heart filled with love for them.

Love, yes. But not hope, because hope dashed would be too painful to bear.

Nathan
climbed down the ladder from the attic, balancing the box containing Ada’s nativity
scene under one arm. It was dusty from not being used, and that gave him a sense of
shame. He should not have let the putz sit in the attic for so long.

Sliding the ladder back into place, he closed the attic hatch and carried the box
downstairs. He had been wrong to keep Ada’s putz shut away from her children for so
long, but now he would make that right.

The aroma of baking lured him to the kitchen. Naomi turned from the oven, smiling,
and deposited a sheet of Peppernuts onto the cooling rack.

Sadie, standing on a chair at the counter, clapped her hands. “Can I taste one, Naomi?
Please?”

“They must cool first, or you will have a scalded tongue.” She glanced at him. “Besides,
I think your daad has something to show you.”

“Ja, I do.” He set the box on the end of the table. “But where is Joshua?”

“He’s outside, helping Isaiah and your daad finish up some shoveling.”

A fresh layer of snow had fallen overnight, delighting the kinder. Naomi gave Nathan
an assessing glance, as if to wonder whether that would arouse his protective instincts.

“They will see that he doesn’t get hurt, I know. But Daad should not be shoveling.”
Frowning, he headed toward the door.

“But, Daadi, what’s in the box?” Sadie hopped down from her chair to pursue him.

“I know,” Naomi said, answering him, not the child. “But I also know it’s impossible
to keep your daad from doing what he thinks he should. That’s why Isaiah and Joshua
are there, sharing the shoveling with him.”

Nathan nodded, admitting the truth of what Naomi said. No one could convince Daad
he couldn’t do everything he used to.

“Maybe I can get him to komm in and see this, as well.” He nodded toward the box and
then smiled at Sadie, her hands clutched in eagerness. “Just be patient, my little
girl. As soon as Joshua and Grossdaadi are here, I’ll show you what that box has in
it.”

Naomi headed for the stove. “Some hot cocoa wouldn’t go amiss, I’m thinking. Maybe
by then the Peppernuts will be ready to eat. Can you get some mugs out, Sadie?”

She nodded, dashing toward the cabinet while Nathan went out the back door.

He realized he was smiling. Naomi was having such a good effect on Sadie. A month
ago she’d have been wailing about opening the box right this minute, and now she was
cheerfully helping Naomi while she waited.

How had Naomi come by such skill? By having inherited the responsibility for her younger
brothers and sisters when she was so young herself? Perhaps it was simply a God-given
gift. If so, God had blessed Nathan’s family with that gift, too.

Getting everyone to stop shoveling involved some negotiating, but finally Nathan had
all of them inside, shedding coats and mufflers and exclaiming at how wonderful gut
the cookies smelled.

“Pfeffernuse,” Daad exclaimed, bending over the cookies to inhale, giving them the
Pennsylvania Dutch name. “I haven’t
had these since your mamm used to make them. Smell the spice in them.”

“You can eat, not just smell,” Naomi said, sliding some warm cookies onto a plate.
“Komm, sit down. There is coffee, and the hot chocolate will be ready in a moment.”

“Now will you tell us what’s in the box, Daadi?” Sadie slid onto her chair while Joshua
pulled off his boots.

“Ja.” Nathan lifted the lid off and was visited by a sudden memory of Ada packing
the figures away after that last Christmas they had together. She had put the newspaper,
now yellowing, around each of the figures. She…

He swallowed, pushing away the thoughts. This was about the kinder, not about him.
He lifted out the topmost figure—a shepherd holding a lamb in his arms.

“It’s the putz.” Joshua crowded close to him. “I remember. We put it up at Christmastime.”

“I remember, too,” Sadie echoed, but Nathan felt quite sure she didn’t. His throat
tightened.

“The putz helps us remember the story of Christmas,” Naomi said, as if she knew he
needed help. “We can look at the shepherds, the animals, the wise men, and the angels
all there to worship the baby Jesus.”

“There is a stable, ain’t so?” Joshua furrowed his forehead. “I think Mammi had us
put fresh straw in it.”

Nathan couldn’t speak for the pictures that were crowding his mind, so again, Naomi
did it for him.

“I’m sure your mammi did. This was her putz when she was a little girl, and I remember
her putting straw around it every year. We used to play with it when I came to see
her, telling each other the story of that first Christmas.”

Nathan stepped back from the table, inviting Naomi to take over with a quick gesture
of his head. She slipped into the chair nearest the box.

“Let’s see what else we can find.” She handed a wrapped figure to each of the children
to open, and they aahed with the appearance of a golden-winged angel and a gray donkey.

Isaiah leaned over the box, his face as excited as those of the children. “We had
one of these when we were little, remember, Naomi? You brought it out and we set it
up while you told us the Christmas story.”

“Let’s do that,” Sadie said instantly. “Tell us the story, Naomi.”

“I think we should get the straw first,” Joshua said, not willing to give up the one
detail he had remembered. “And decide where to set it up. It can’t stay on the kitchen
table.”

“Why not?” Sadie demanded. “I want it here.”

“Joshua is right,” Naomi intervened. “Once we have all the pieces out, we will find
a spot for the putz in the living room, where we can look at it and remember the story
and tell it every day. But Sadie is right, too. We can tell the story while we get
the pieces out. We will tell it many times in the next few weeks, because it is a
very important story, ain’t so?”

The kinder nodded, both mollified. They continued to uncover the pieces. Naomi began
telling the story, her narrative interrupted by interjections from Isaiah and comments
from the kinder as each figure emerged from its wrappings.

Nathan took a few steps back from the hubbub around the table and realized Daad was
standing beside him, watching.

“I am ser glad you got Ada’s putz out again,” Daad said, his voice quiet. “It is gut
for the kinder to have it. They will
remember their mamm as well as remember the story of Christmas.”

“Ja.” Nathan’s throat still seemed too tight to say more. He didn’t regret the decision
to get out the putz, but he hadn’t expected it to provoke such strong feelings.

“Christmas is a time for missing the ones we love who have gone on ahead of us.” Daad
seemed to know exactly what he was thinking. “I long for your mamm more at this time
of year. Sorrows seem deeper, but joy seems brighter, as well. And Naomi has brought
much joy to this house, I think.”

Daad’s words startled Nathan. They confused him a little, as well.

But they were true, weren’t they? He could see for himself how happy the kinder were
under Naomi’s guidance. And he knew how happy he was to have Naomi here, as well.

He felt a moment of panic. What was he thinking? Naomi could not take Ada’s place.
No one could. And yet he couldn’t seem to get the idea out of his head.

T
o
Naomi, the days seemed to fly past. That always happened in the weeks leading up
to Christmas, but this year she was busier than she’d been since Isaiah and her sisters
were small and she’d had all the running of the house to do as well.