A Child's Christmas Wish. Erica Vetsch

question had both Oscar and Liesl turning to the door.

      Kate Amaker, dressed and ready for the day.

      Oscar sucked in a breath, his heart knocking against his ribs, staring at her rounded middle that the voluminous coat had covered last night. He was no judge, but was she ready to deliver soon?

      Liesl looked their guest over, and Oscar waited. The little girl could be quite definite in her likes and dislikes.

      Evidently, Mrs. Amaker fell into the “likes” category, for Liesl smiled and handed her the hairbrush.

      “What happened to your tummy?” She pointed at Mrs. Amaker’s middle.

      A flush crept up her cheeks, and Oscar cleared his throat. “Liesl, that’s not polite.”

      His daughter looked up at him with puzzled brown eyes. “Why, Daddy?”

      “It’s all right.” Mrs. Amaker smiled, her face kind. “I’m going to have a baby. He’s growing in my tummy right now, and when the time is right, he’ll be born.”

      Liesl’s face lit up. “A baby. In your tummy? When will the time be right? Today?”

      Mrs. Amaker laughed. “No, sweetling. Not for a couple of months. Around Christmas.”

      Oscar’s gut clenched. He’d lost his wife and second child around Christmas.

      Liesl had a different reaction. She clapped her hands, bouncing on her toes. “That’s it, Daddy. That’s what I wish for this Christmas. A baby. Can I have a baby for Christmas?”

       Chapter Three

      Kate took the hairbrush from Oscar and sat on the side of the bed, not meeting his eyes. The poor man looked stricken. She should change the subject. “You have lovely hair.” She smiled at Liesl. “I love to brush and braid hair. Is it all right if I help you?”

      Liesl, eyes round, nodded and turned, backing up until she rested against Kate’s knees. Oscar stood, jamming his hands into his pants’ pockets, looming, a frown on his bearded face. Kate wondered if she’d overstepped by offering to brush and braid Liesl’s hair, but it was too late to recall her offer.

      “Are you a princess?” Liesl asked, breathless.

      Kate laughed. “No, darlin’, but bless you for asking.” She wanted to hug the little sprite. “You’re Liesl, right? My name is Kate.”

      Drawing the brush through Liesl’s hair, Kate remembered her mama doing the same thing for her. “Do you have ribbons for your braids, or do you use thread? My mama used to use thread for every day, and ribbons on Sunday for church.” Liesl’s hair fell almost to her waist, thick and glossy brown. It would be easy to braid.

      “Daddy uses these.” She held up two strips of soft leather. “He calls it whang leather. He made it from a deer.”

      Leather to tie up a little girl’s hair. Still, it probably worked well. She parted Liesl’s hair and quickly fashioned two braids, wrapping the leather around the ends and tying it. “There you go. You look sweet.”

      “Thank you. Daddy says I am pretty like my mama, but it’s how I act that is important.”

      “Your daddy is right.” She caught “Daddy’s” eye and smiled.

      “Can we go eat breakfast now?” Liesl hopped on her toes.

      “Absolutely. Right after we turn down your covers to air the bed. Shall we do it together?” Kate pushed herself up awkwardly, and before she got upright, Oscar was there at her elbow, helping her. His hand was warm on her arm, and she was grateful for his assistance. “Thank you. It’s getting harder to maneuver these days.”

      He stepped back, his eyes wary, and she laughed. “Don’t look so worried. I told Liesl the truth. I have a couple of months yet. Until Christmas.”

      He didn’t laugh with her.

      * * *

      Breakfast was an ordeal. Kate had little appetite in the mornings these days, and especially not for oatmeal so sticky it clung to the roof of her mouth and tasted of damp newspaper. Grossmutter would have made a coffee cake for breakfast today, using her sourdough starter from the crock that always sat on the shelf behind the stove. Now the shelf, the crock and the stove were gone.

      Their host and the maker of the meal shoveled the gooey mass into his mouth as if stoking a furnace. His daughter sat on a high chair, her little boots kicking a rung as she poked and stirred her oatmeal, taking little bites and watching the strangers at her table. Uncertain, but clearly curious.

      As for Oscar Rabb... Someone had put a burr on his shirttail. He must have morning moods, because from the moment she’d offered to help with his daughter’s hair, he’d been wary and gruff, as if having them there put him out considerably and he couldn’t wait for them to leave.

      Inge and Martin ate quietly, still looking exhausted and facing a difficult day. How could Kate help them through it when she felt as if she was barely hanging on herself? And yet, she must. Johann would expect it, and they needed her. And she loved them as if they were her own grandparents. Having lost her family soon after her wedding, Johann’s grandparents were all the family she had left now.

      “I am finished.” She put her spoon down, her bowl still more than half full. “We had better get going soon. The cows will be waiting at the barn door.”

      “Oscar,” Grossvater said. “I would like to leave Inge here, if that is all right? Kate and I can tend the cows and the cheeses. Perhaps Inge can help with the little one.” He nodded toward Liesl.

      The little girl’s eyes grew rounder, and she looked to her father. “Actually...” He let his spoon clatter into his empty bowl. “I was thinking that you should all stay here. I can milk your cows for you today.”

      Kate blinked. He’d been grouchy all morning, and now he was volunteering to milk ten cows all by himself? Cows that weren’t even his? He’d been reluctant from the first to have them in his house, and now he was offering to give them even more help?

      “That’s very kind of you, Mr. Rabb.” Kate scooted her chair back and went to stand behind her family, putting her hands on their shoulders. “But we don’t want to be any more of a burden to you than we already have been. We must see to our own chores, and we must decide where we are to go.”

      Inge stood and began clearing the table. “Nonsense, Martin. We will all go. We need to see what can be salvaged of the house, if anything, and there is plenty of work to do this morning. I am old, but I am not useless.” She gave her husband a determined look, and he shook his head, smiling and patting her hand.

      “I only wanted to spare you the unpleasantness for a while. If you are sure, we will all go.”

      Liesl hopped off her chair and scampered toward the door, lifting a contraption of wood and straps and toting it to her father. “Me, too, Daddy?”

      He took the odd item and rubbed her head with his large hand. “You, too, Poppet, but we’ll take the wagon over and use this later.”

      “Can she ride in our wagon with us?” Liesl pointed to Kate.

      Kate stopped buttoning her coat—still smelling of smoke—in surprise. “Me?”

      Liesl nodded. “I like you. You’re pretty. Are you sure you aren’t a princess? You look like the princess in my book.” She turned to Grossmutter. “Did you know she has a baby in her tummy? Daddy’s going to get me a baby for Christmas. He said I should ask for the one thing that I want most, and he would get it for me.”

      Grossmutter smiled. “Do you mean a doll baby?”

      Liesl shook her head, her braids sliding on her shoulders. “No, I have a doll baby. I want a real baby. Like