Amish Christmas Twins. Shelley Shepard Gray

mean.”

      Her brother was right. They were mean. Really mean. “I . . . I was thinking of running away.”

      “Really? We can do that?”

      “I know it’s scary, but maybe we could find someplace better than Dan and Shirl’s house. I don’t want Melanie to make us go back there right after Christmas.”

      He swallowed hard. “I don’t want to be there ever again.”

      “So, it’s decided?”

      Roy gazed at her, suddenly looking much older. “Jah.”

      “Jah? Are you sure?”

      “I’m sure. I’ll get dressed and meet you down in the kitchen in a couple of minutes.”

      “Okay, but remember, it’s snowy out, so we have to wear warm clothes. Lots of warm clothes.”

      “I’ll put on the new socks E.A. knitted for me.”

      She noticed him looking around his room. “Don’t forget, we can’t take much. You can’t take all your toys.”

      “I’m only gonna take a couple of the animals and two of the train cars.”

      “Put them in a pillowcase.”

      “Okay.”

      Even though he looked confused, she slipped out of Roy’s room and padded down the hall. She needed to get dressed in warm clothes and gather her things, too.

      They were really going to do it. They were going to run away.

      Though her eyes stung, she refused to cry. Crying wouldn’t do her any good.

      Besides, she didn’t think God cared if she cried or not.

      For some reason, He had decided to stop looking out for them.

      It was up to her and Roy from now on.

      Chapter 14

      After they made their plans, E.A. had wished Will pleasant dreams, and then gone straight up to bed.

      The fire was still burning, the snow was falling outside, and Will’s heart was full. Far too full to go to sleep.

      He had also felt a need to give thanks. Just a few years ago, he’d been living with his family, going through the motions at his job, drifting through life. He’d felt as if something was missing, but he couldn’t pinpoint exactly what had been lacking. Then Andy had taken his own life and everything had changed. That loss had made him start counting his blessings and looking around to decide what he needed—no, what he wanted—in his life.

      He’d never so keenly felt the Lord at work in his life. One by one, the Lord had helped him establish his goals at work, deepen his friendships, strengthen the bonds with his family, and changed everything between him and E.A.

      Now here he was, with two children snug in their beds and two tiny babes on the way. He was so blessed.

      He got on his knees and stared at the dying embers in the fireplace as he poured out his heart. “Danke, Got,” he prayed quietly. “Here on Your son’s birthday, I feel as if I have been given all the gifts. I praise You and give thanks.”

      Feeling His pleasure with the words, Will closed his eyes and continued his prayers, offering thanks for his friends and family, for the blessings of Christmas.

      “Careful!” he heard Jemima whisper.

      Startled, Will popped open his eyes. What in the world was she doing?

      He heard the children scramble some more. It was obvious that they were now downstairs, but for what reason, he couldn’t begin to guess.

      Growing concerned, he got to his feet.

      Then, just as Will was about to join them, the children spoke again.

      “I’m scared,” Roy said.

      “I know, but we’ll be okay.”

      “I wish I had the new coat that E.A. said I might get on Christmas morning. It’s cold out.”

      “Your old coat will have to do.”

      “I know, but—”

      “Roy, I’ve got on my old coat, too,” Jemima said, sounding weary. “Stop complaining.”

      “I will. But can we get a snack before we leave? I don’t want to be hungry.”

      Leave? Will felt his heart start beating double time.

      He stood quietly, listening to them talk to each other, curious as to why they were leaving and, truth be told, curious about what they were deciding to take with them.

      When he heard Roy struggle to open the jar of peanut butter, Will had heard enough.

      “Those jars can be tricky to open. Do you need a hand?”

      The jar fell to the floor.

      “Will!” Roy exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”

      “I think we all know that I need to be asking you a more important question. What are you doing?” Will turned toward Jemima, who was standing by the refrigerator with a stunned expression on her face. “Jemima, do you want to help me out here?”

      She exchanged a panicked glance with her brother before shaking her head no.

      “No?” Will couldn’t believe it. “Come now. Are you two making a snack or something different?” He pointedly looked at their clothes and the shoes on their feet.

      “Something different,” Roy said at last.

      This was one of those moments when Will felt every negative part of being a foster parent. He didn’t have a lot of experience parenting, so he had no idea what to do or say.

      He sure wished he did, though. It would be nice to know if he was supposed to be listening patiently or just pointing to the stairs and sending them back to bed.

      Then he considered these children’s history. He and E.A. were fairly certain that Roy and Jemima had had a nice life with their natural parents, but the children would hardly talk about them. Will did know that they hadn’t had it easy since their parents’ deaths.

      Melanie the social worker had told him and E.A. that the last foster family had been particularly rough. That there might be triggers or something else that could hurt the kids that he wasn’t aware of.

      Finally, he wasn’t used to parenting on his own. He’d found comfort in the fact that no matter how awkward he might find being a father, his wife was right next to him and she could help make things better.

      But E.A. was exhausted and he knew she needed her sleep.

      He was on his own.

      “If you two are hungry, finish making your snacks and then come to the kitchen table. We’re gonna have a talk.”

      Jemima hesitated. “But it’s almost midnight.”

      “It is. It is almost Christmas morning. But that doesn’t mean we’re not going to talk about something so important.”

      “How do you know it’s important?”

      “Why else would you two be up and dressed in the middle of the night?”

      He watched them exchange glances again. Remembering something his father used to do, he crossed his arms over his chest and stood silently. When he was but a boy, that kind of thing used to make him feel extremely uneasy.

      And . . . it worked like a charm. With deliberate moves, both children finished making their sandwiches, then put them on plates and approached the table.

      He walked to the refrigerator, poured three glasses of milk, and joined them.

      After he sat down