An Amish Christmas. Patricia Davids

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

       CHAPTER SIXTEEN

       CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

       CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

       Copyright

       An Amish Christmas

      Patricia Davids

      This book is dedicated to women and men

      everywhere who seek to mend fences

      and to right wrongs within their families.

      “Blessed are the peacemakers:

      for they shall be called the children of God.”

      —Matthew 5:9

      If thou, Lord, shouldest mark iniquities, O Lord,

      who shall stand?

      But there is forgiveness with thee,

      that thou mayest be feared.

      I wait for the Lord, my soul doth wait,

      and in His word do I hope.

      —Psalms 130:3–5

       CHAPTER ONE

      “Our school program will be so much fun. We’re going to do a play and sing songs. I have a poem to recite all by myself. I can’t wait for Christmas.” Eight-year-old Anna Imhoff leaned out the side of their Amish buggy to let the breeze twirl a ribbon she held in her hand.

      Karen Imhoff listened to her little sister’s excited prattle with only half an ear. Christmas was still eight weeks away. There were more pressing problems on Karen’s plate, like buying shoes for three growing children, her father’s mounting medical bills and finding a job until he was fully recovered.

      Anna sat back and grabbed Karen’s sleeve. “Look, there’s a dead man.”

      Before Karen could respond to Anna’s startling comment, the horse pulling the buggy shied violently, then bolted. Caught off guard, Karen was thrown back against the leather seat as the mare lunged forward. Anna screamed at the top of her lungs. Her brothers in the backseat began yelling. The horse plunged ahead even faster.

      Regaining her balance, Karen grasped the loose reins. She braced her feet against the floorboards and pulled back hard. “Whoa, Molly, whoa!”

      Molly paid no heed. The buggy bounced and swayed violently as the mare charged down the farm lane. Mud thrown up by her hooves splattered Karen’s dress and face. Gritty dirt mixed with the acid tang of fear in her mouth.

      Anna, still screaming, threw her arms around Karen’s waist, further hampering her efforts to gain control. The horse had to be stopped before they reached the highway at the end of the lane or upended in the ditch.

      Muscles burning, Karen fought Molly’s headlong plunge. A quarter of a mile flew past before Molly gave in. The horse slowed and came to a stop a few feet shy of the highway just as a red pickup zipped past. The brown mare tossed her head once more but didn’t seem inclined to run again. Karen sent up a heartfelt prayer of thanks for their deliverance then took stock of her passengers.

      Anna, with her face buried in the fabric of her sister’s dress, maintained her tight grip. “I don’t like to go fast. Don’t do that again.”

      Karen comforted her with a quick hug and loosened the child’s arms. “I won’t. I promise.”

      Turning to check on her brothers, Karen asked, “Jacob? Noah? Are you all right?”

      Fourteen-year-old Jacob retrieved his broad-brimmed black hat from the floor, dusted it off and jammed it on his thick, wheat-colored hair. “I’m fine. I didn’t know Molly could move like that.”

      Ten-year-old Noah sat slumped down beside his brother. He held his hat onto his head in a tight grip with both hands. The folded brim made it look like a bonnet over his red curls. He said, “That was not fun.”

      “I thought it was,” Jacob countered. “What spooked her?”

      “I’m not sure.” Karen’s erratic heartbeat gradually slowed to a normal pace.

      Brushing at the mud on her dress, Anna said, “Maybe Molly was scared of the dead man.”

      “What dead man?” Noah leaned forward eagerly.

      “The one back there.” Anna pointed behind them. They all twisted around to look. Karen saw only an empty lane.

      Jacob scowled at his little sister. “I don’t see anything. You’re making that up.”

      “I am not. You believe me, don’t you, Karen?”

      Hugging the tearful child, Karen wasn’t sure what to believe. Anna had been the only survivor of the buggy and automobile crash that had killed their mother, two sisters and their oldest brother four years earlier. The child worried constantly about death taking another member of her family.

      Karen looked into Anna’s eyes. “I’m sure you saw something. A plastic bag or a bundle of rags perhaps.”

      Jacob, impatient as ever, said, “There’s nothing back there. Let’s go. I don’t want to be late for school.”

      “We can’t leave him there,” Anna insisted, her lower lip quivering ominously.

      Noah started to climb out. “I don’t mind being late. I’ll go look.”

      Forestalling him, Karen said, “No. We’ll all go back.”

      Anna could easily become hysterical and then they would get nowhere. It was better to show the child that she had been mistaken. After that, Karen could drop the children at their one-room schoolhouse and hurry to her interview at Bishop Zook’s home. It wouldn’t do to be late for such an important meeting.

      When the wedding banns had been announced for the current schoolteacher, Karen knew it meant a new teacher would have to be hired. With money tight in the Imhoff household the job would be perfect for Karen and bring in much-needed funds.

      The church-district elders were speaking to teaching applicants this morning. She had to be there. But first she needed to convince Anna they didn’t have a dead man on their lane.

      Turning the horse around, Karen sent her walking back the way they had come. As they neared the start of their reckless run Molly balked, throwing up her head and snorting.

      Not wishing to have a repeat of the mad dash, Karen said, “Jacob, take the lines.”

      He scrambled over the seat back to sit beside her. After handing him the driving reins Karen stepped down from the buggy. Her sturdy black shoes sank into the ground still soft from last night’s rain.

      The morning sun, barely over the horizon, had started to burn away the fog lingering in the low-lying farm fields. Where the sunlight touched the high wooded hillsides it turned the autumn foliage to burnished gold and scarlet flame. A breeze tugged at the ribbons of Karen’s kapp and brought with it the smell of damp grasses and fallen leaves.

      Walking briskly back toward their farmhouse, she scanned the shallow ditch beside the road without seeing anything unusual. Turning around in the road, she looked at the children and raised her arms. “I don’t see anything.”

      “Farther back,” Anna yelled.

      Dropping