A Child's Christmas Wish. Erica Vetsch

shouldn’t feel so relieved. Nothing has been settled. And yet, Kate did feel relief, a reprieve, if even for only a few days. She’d asked at the café if they needed help in the kitchen, but like most businesses in town, they were getting by but not looking to hire.

      The news of the loan against their herd sat like a brick in her chest. Oh, Johann.

      They returned with Oscar to the mercantile to pick up his order. Grossvater dug into his pocket for the money Pastor Tipford had given him, collected from friends and neighbors.

      “Let me pay some. We are costing you money, I know.” His hands fumbled with the coins and folded bills.

      “Thank you, but no. Put that away.” Oscar lifted the first box and headed to the wagon. “Keep that for later. You’ll need it.”

      “But we must pay our way.” Grossvater held out the money.

      Mrs. Hale was looking on, and Kate’s cheeks grew warm. “Perhaps we can talk about this later.” She leaned in to pick up another box of groceries.

      “Leave that. I’ll come back for it.” Oscar’s tone was sharp, and Kate stopped.

      “It’s not heavy.”

      “You shouldn’t be lifting things.” He shouldered his way out the door.

      Grossvater smiled and patted her shoulder. “He is a good man.” He picked up the smaller of the two remaining crates and carried it outside. Kate followed.

      Oscar was a good man, a bit prickly, but not unkind.

      The ride back to Oscar’s farm was silent. She huddled in her coat, and when they passed the Amaker farm, she didn’t look. Seeing the blackened square where her home had been would be too hard after the day’s disappointments. She needed to find a job, to do something to help Martin and Inge and prepare for her baby, but it seemed everywhere she turned was yet another closed door.

      God, where are You in all of this? You seem so far away.

      Oscar’s house came into view, and she had to tamp down a surprising surge of resentment. He had everything here. A nice house, a sweet little girl, land, barns, safety, security. He was a strong man, someone the bank would loan money to without worry.

      That’s ridiculous. You should be grateful. He’s being kind, even though you are an imposition. Pull yourself together.

      And Kate remembered that he didn’t have everything. He didn’t have his wife. He must’ve loved her very much to have shut himself away from everyone as he had.

      He helped her down from the wagon, something she was becoming used to, and set her on the porch steps. She looked up into his face, trying to gauge how he really felt about them staying at his home longer than he had expected. Was he just being polite, enduring them for propriety’s sake? Offering because Mrs. Tipford had all but forced him into it again?

      His brown eyes gave nothing away, but his hands remained on her arms, as if to steady her. “Go inside and get warm. I’ll bring the supplies in.”

      The door swung open before she reached it, and a little tornado rushed out. “Daddy!” Liesl threw her arms around her father’s legs. “I missed you.”

      Oscar swung her up into his arms, and she patted his cheeks. “You’re cold. Come see what we made, me and Grossmutter. That means ‘grandmother,’ and Miss Kate said I could call her that.”

      “You shouldn’t be out here without a coat. It’s too chilly. And you should call her Mrs. Amaker.” He set her down and nudged her toward the door. “I’ll be there soon. I need to unload the groceries and get the team put away.”

      Rolf rounded the house, coming up the path from the barn, his black tail with its white tip plumed high, his tongue lolling. He bounded up to the porch, nudging his head under Kate’s hand, begging for a few pats. She stroked his silky, broad head, running her finger along the white stripe between his eyes. He leaned into her.

      “You’re just a mush, aren’t you?”

      He didn’t disagree.

      Oscar and Grossvater carried the supplies into the house, and when he stepped across the threshold, Oscar stopped, breathing in deeply.

      Grossmutter and Liesl had been busy. The house smelled of yeasty bread and warm fruit. Grossmutter turned from the oven, her towel-wrapped hands holding a pie tin. “I made Apfeltorte, and the Kind helped me make bread.” She set the hot apple pie—made in the Swiss tradition with no crust—on a trivet. Behind her, on a table near the stove, three bread pans filled with rising dough waited to go into the hot oven.

      Liesl climbed into a chair and knelt, leaning on her arms to sniff the pie.

      “Take care, sweetling. That’s very hot.” Kate shrugged out of her coat and hung it on a peg by the door. “Doesn’t it smell good? Grossmutter makes the best pie I’ve ever eaten. Do you like this kind of pie?” She brushed wisps of hair off Liesl’s face.

      “I don’t know. I never had any. Daddy doesn’t make pie.”

      Poor little mite. Her father had isolated himself and, in doing so, had isolated her. Kate bent and kissed the little girl’s head. “You’re in for a treat, then.”

      Oscar set the last box on the table. “As long as we have the team hitched up, Martin and I are going over to your farm to do the milking and chores. We’ll be back in a bit. Is it all right if I leave Liesl here with you?”

      “Of course.” Kate shook her head, surprised that he would even ask.

      “You’ll be back soon, Daddy? Because I get to help make supper, and I want you to like it.” Liesl scampered off her chair and tugged on Oscar’s hand.

      “I’ll be back soon,” he promised. “You’ll be a good girl?”

      “The best.”

      He looked at Kate. “I don’t want to impose. She’s my responsibility, and I’ll take her if you need to lie down and rest.”

      “I’m fine. I enjoy her company.”

      He nodded and went back out.

      Liesl chattered away, helping Kate and Grossmutter unpack the provisions, showing them where things went. “There’s potatoes in the cellar. That’s where we got the apples for the pie. Daddy has apple trees down by the creek. He says Mama planted them when they were baby trees... What’s a baby tree called?”

      “A sapling?” Kate put a sack of coffee beans into the cupboard.

      “Yes, that’s it. They were saplings. And this is the first year we got apples, and I got to help. Daddy lifted me up to pick some, and he let me put them into the bin in the cellar, but he said I had to be real careful, because apples can get bruises. Daddy said one bad apple would make the whole bin get rotten.”

      While Kate and Grossmutter made supper—chicken and dumplings—Liesl treated them to more of “Daddy says.”

      When the men returned, they gathered around the table. Kate sat beside Oscar and across from Liesl. The little girl bowed her head and held her hand out to her father. Oscar took it and held his other hand out to Kate.

      Slowly, she placed her hand in his large one, and his fingers curled around hers, warm and strong. It had been months since she had held hands with a man. She placed her other fingers into Grossmutter’s, and bowed her head, trying to concentrate on the blessing rather than on the comfort she drew from Oscar’s touch.