An Amish Christmas. Patricia Davids

women exchanged glances, then Karen said, “Sarah would not be able to show it. We consider photographs of people to be graven images. They are forbidden.”

      “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” He looked embarrassed.

      Karen couldn’t help herself. She poked his shoulder. “Oh, John, you don’t know your name, you don’t know about the Amish and photographs, what do you know?”

      “Karen!” Sarah looked aghast.

      John looked shocked for a full second then he threw back his head and laughed. “I know if I go back in the house someone is going to try and make me eat more. I’m still stuffed to the gills.”

      Relieved to see him more comfortable, Karen said, “Then you had best go walk up an appetite because supper will get under way in about an hour.”

      Sarah said, “Mr. Doe, I can’t use a photograph but if someone were to sketch your face I could use that.”

      Nodding Karen said, “That is a goot idea. Sally Yoder has a fine hand with pencils. Perhaps she could draw his picture.”

      John asked, “Is she the one with red hair and freckles?”

      “Ja.” Karen looked around. “I saw her a few moments ago.”

      Sarah said, “I saw her go upstairs with Katie and the baby. I will ask her if she would do a sketch of you. Provided her parents do not object. If she may, I will let you know.”

      “I appreciate your help, Sarah. Thank you. And even if compliments are not permitted, I still say you sing like an angel.”

      Her smile turned sad. “You should have heard my sister sing. She is the one with the voice of an angel.”

      John waited until Sarah disappeared into the house then he turned his attention to Karen. “What did she mean about her sister?”

      “Sarah has a twin sister. Bethany left here a month after Sarah’s husband died. She wrote Sarah a letter telling her she had to go away but gave no other explanation. No one has heard from her in three years. Most think she ran away with an Englischer. It broke Sarah’s heart.”

      “I see. Well, I should let you get back to work.”

      Karen didn’t want to leave him. She wanted to stay and find some way to make him laugh again. The sound made her heart light. It made her want to laugh out loud with him.

      With a start, she realized what was happening. She was getting in over her head. When had she started to care so deeply for John?

      Perhaps the moment she saw him lying in the ditch. Embarrassed by the flood of feelings she couldn’t control she took a step back. “Ja, I must go.”

      He raised his hand but let it drop quickly to his side. “I guess I’ll see you when you get home.”

      “It will be very late. We will have much cleaning up to do here.”

      “I don’t mind staying up.” He smiled softly at her and left the porch to rejoin the men standing by Harold’s car.

      * * *

      Late that evening, John sat outside on the dawdy haus porch with his feet propped up on the rail and his hands shoved deep in the pockets of his coat. The cold night air was a reminder that winter would come roaring in soon.

      What was he doing? He was waiting to get in trouble, that’s what.

      The lights in the main house had been off for hours. The Imhoffs were normally early to bed and early to rise, but Karen had not yet returned from the wedding supper. Was she visiting with the women or was there a man in her life? Some tall, sturdy Amish farmer who would give her a dozen children and a lifetime of hard work?

      John wanted to hope that was true, but even more he hoped it wasn’t.

      The clatter of horse hooves on the lane finally announced her return. John rose to his feet but hesitated. What right did he have to engage Karen’s affections? The answer was abundantly clear. He had no business seeking time alone with her.

      Even as his thoughts formed, his feet were moving toward the barn where she was unhitching the buggy. She saw him coming. She stood waiting, not speaking. He knew words would only sound artificial. Instead, he began unharnessing the horse, happy to be doing a simple thing for her.

      Working in silence, they soon completed the task and led Molly to her stall. Karen lit a lantern so he could see to brush the mare down. He made quick work of it while Karen forked hay into the stall. When the mare was settled, they closed her stall door, put out the lantern and walked side-by-side out of the barn.

      At the porch steps they paused by unspoken consent. Karen sat down, drawing her coat tighter. John sat beside her staring up into the night sky. A million twinkling stars decorated the black heavens with breathtaking beauty.

      She pointed over the barn. “Look, there is a falling star. You should make a wish.”

      Hunching his shoulders, he shook his head. “I don’t believe in wishing.”

      “Why not?”

      He gazed at her intently. “What good does it do to want a thing you cannot have?”

      She drew the edges of her coat closer together. “When we say we wish the rain would stop, or we wish the sun would shine, or we wish you could remember, are these wishes not simply little prayers?”

      “I guess they are.”

      “Don’t you believe in the power of prayer?”

      “Anna told me once that you remind her to pray. Are you trying to remind me now?”

      “It is something we all need to do.”

      He leaned back and braced his elbows on the step behind him. “I don’t remember how to pray. If I ever knew.”

      “But you did. The day I found you, you began the Twenty-third Psalm. I’ve prayed it with you.”

      “You did? I wish I could remember that.” He drank in the beauty of her face in the starlight, gathering in every detail to save in his memory. This night was one he never wanted to forget.

      He leaned toward her. Uncertainty clouded her eyes and she looked away.

      He drew a deep breath and leaned his head back. “I don’t remember the stars looking this beautiful.”

      “Perhaps you lived in a city where the stars could not be seen.”

      “Maybe.” John shook his head. “I don’t know, they just don’t seem right.”

      She looked up. “What could be wrong with the wondrous night sky God has given us? I see nothing wrong with the stars. What do you mean?”

      “I don’t know. I look up and I think something is missing.”

      “The moon is not yet up. Perhaps that is what’s missing.”

      He watched her intently. “Maybe the stars look wrong because they pale in comparison to your eyes.”

      “Please don’t.” She dropped her gaze to stare at the ground.

      “I’m sorry.” He’d meant every word, but he was sorry to cause her any distress.

      “You’re forgiven.”

      “I’m not sure I want to be forgiven for telling you what a beautiful person you are. I don’t mean just beautiful on the outside, although you are. I mean you’re beautiful on the inside.”

      She raised her gaze to his. “You told me that once before. That I was beautiful. The day I found you. Before the ambulance came.”

      “Did you believe me then?”

      “I did,” she answered quietly.

      “And do you believe me now?” He held