A Child's Christmas Wish. Erica Vetsch

She went to the gate where the calves had their heads down munching the hay Martin Amaker had forked over the fence. Rolf, her shadow, went with her, tail wagging gently, eyes alert.

      A wagon rolled into the yard, and Per Schmidt climbed down from the high seat. “Guten Morgen.” He surveyed the charred remains of the house, sweeping his hat off his head when the Amaker ladies came out of the barn toward him.

      “Morning.” Oscar began a slow circuit of the burned-out area, but he could see nothing in the ashes to salvage. Bits of bent metal, puddles of melted glass, bricks fallen from the chimney, but nothing worth saving.

      “Dere is not much left.” Per followed him. “Vat are dey going to do? Do dey haff family to help?”

      He didn’t know. Oscar glanced over to check on Liesl and found that Kate had helped her climb the gate to look over at the calves. Kate stood behind the little girl, holding her safely, their heads together.

      Which reminded him of how easily she’d brushed and braided Liesl’s hair this morning—a task he usually struggled with—and how seeing the two of them together like that had been a kick to his middle. He’d been surprised at how quickly Liesl had warmed to having strangers in the house and to Kate in particular.

      And now Liesl wanted a baby for a Christmas present. He wasn’t really worried about this, because she changed her mind every day. Tomorrow she would want a doll pram or a kitten or new hair ribbons.

      “I saw Prediger Tipford coming down the road. He vill be here soon.”

      Oscar hoped so. Surely by now Pastor Tipford had come up with a plan for the Amakers, a better place for them to stay until they could rebuild.

      Martin Amaker came out of the barn slowly pulling the milk cart. Oscar nodded to Per and went down the path.

      “Let me help.” He took the handle of the cart. “To the springhouse?”

      “Yes. Thank you, son. Milking is heavy work, is it not?” Martin tugged a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped his brow. “Though I must confess, everything seems heavier today.”

      Oscar made short work of storing the milk. The springhouse, built over a diverted part of Millikan Creek, was damp and cold. A row of milk cans stood along the back wall, and Oscar added the two from the cart.

      He tried to imagine Martin and Kate doing the heavy work of the farm all alone for the past six months. Guilt hit him. Johann had been gone for half a year now, and what had Oscar done to help his neighbors? Nothing. But he had his own farm to look after, and a child, and a house. He was nearly overwhelmed at times himself.

      At least he could salve his conscience that he had offered them hospitality last night. A paltry bit of comfort, but it was something.

      Pastor Tipford and his wife drove into the farmyard as Oscar returned the cart to the barn. Kate helped Liesl down from the fence, holding her hand as they walked up the slight slope to greet the newcomers.

      Her other hand rested on the swell of her unborn child, and Oscar swallowed. Losing his wife in childbed had been a double blow. God had taken Gaelle and their second daughter on Christmas Eve almost two years ago. Even now, the grief could steal his breath.

      “Ah, Oscar, I trust you got the Amakers settled last night, and you were all able to get some rest?” Pastor Tipford’s voice filled the farmyard. He always spoke as if he were talking to someone in the back pew.

      Mrs. Amaker nodded. “He was most kind.”

      The preacher’s wife smiled at him. “Of course he was.”

      Oscar shoved his hands into his pockets. He wished they’d get on with the discussion. His own chores were waiting.

      “Martin, Inge, we were able to spread the word of your situation last night when we returned to town, and a small collection was gathered.” Pastor Tipford handed Martin a small sack. “Everyone wishes it were more.” He shuffled his large feet.

      Oscar frowned. He hadn’t been asked to contribute yet. Not that he had much hard cash. Most of his money was tied up in the farm, the implements and the livestock. With the harvest, he had enough to pay his account at Hale’s Mercantile and purchase basic supplies for the winter. He wouldn’t have any more cash coming in until he could finish and sell the furniture he made during the winter months. Several orders had come in, but they weren’t even started yet. But still, he would give a little something to the Amaker collection.

      Martin Amaker took the purse from Pastor Tipford, his eyes suspiciously bright. Inge’s lips trembled, and Kate stood with her hand cupping Liesl’s head. “How can we thank everyone?” she asked.

      “Don’t you worry, child,” Mrs. Tipford said. “Pastor has already thanked folks for you. Now, we need to get down to brass tacks. What are your plans?”

      Martin shook his head. “We have had little time to discuss anything.”

      “Well, the Bakers have said that Kate can come stay with them, and the Freidmans have a guest room for the two of you.”

      Kate’s eyebrows rose. “Be separated? And away from the farm?”

      Oscar frowned. The Bakers lived in town, but the Freidmans lived on a farm at least five miles north of Berne. He didn’t like the notion of the old couple that far from Kate, nor of Kate being on her own. And what about their livestock? Who would take care of the milking cows and calves?

      “Child, no one we asked had room for all of you.” Mrs. Tipford shook her head. “I wish the parsonage had an extra bedroom or two, but it’s so small we almost have to go outside to change our minds.” She laughed at her little joke. “As for the farm, Gregor Freidman has said he will drive Martin out to do the chores twice a day. He’s retired now, so he has the time.”

      From what Oscar remembered about Gregor Freidman, he was even older than Martin Amaker and twice as frail. If they got an early snowfall, all too likely here in Minnesota, two old men shouldn’t be on the road between here and town. It would be a twenty-mile round trip from one farm to the other.

      Pastor Tipford rubbed his hands together. “Anyway, it is only for a few weeks, until you get another house built. Lots of folks will be willing to help with the work. It will be a community effort. I can drive you down to Mantorville to the sawmill to order the lumber today. They could probably have a couple wagonloads delivered tomorrow afternoon.”

      Martin and Inge shared a look, and Kate bit her lip.

      “That’s very kind of you, Pastor.” Martin straightened his age-bent back. “But we...” He stopped, staring at the horizon for a moment. “We are not in a position to rebuild right now.”

      Rolf came to lean against Oscar’s leg, and he reached down to pat the dog’s head. He could sympathize with Martin. If he had lost his house, he wouldn’t have had enough laid by to rebuild. Of course, he could get a loan at the bank to pay for lumber and hardware. He hated to buy on time, but sometimes you had to.

      “Not rebuild?” Pastor’s voice boomed.

      Martin’s voice seemed thin and frail. “Not right now.”

      They must be even harder up than Oscar thought. And now they were going to be separated from each other, living with different families in town?

      Liesl reached up and took Kate’s hand, her face scrunched, looking from one adult to another, not understanding what was happening. She was a sensitive little thing, quick to perceive moods, even ones she didn’t understand.

      Kate’s other hand rested on the gentle mound of her unborn baby, and her face was as pale as the milk he’d just put in the springhouse. Oscar had the ridiculous urge to go to her, to put his arms around her and offer her some of his strength. He shook his head. Their problems weren’t really his concern, were they? He had enough trouble of his own, which he took care of on his own.

      “You don’t have to decide anything right now. You are welcome to stay at my place until