An Amish Christmas Promise

Chapter Three

The first project meeting for Carolyn’s new house was scheduled for ten the next morning. Initially it had been set for eight, but she was signed up to serve breakfast. Some volunteers and government officials came in RVs, and they brought their own food. However, most arrived eager to work with tools and skills and not much else. Fortunately, fewer locals were depending on the community center’s kitchen to provide their meals because some sections of town now had electricity again.

But the steady whir of generators hadn’t decreased in the center of the village. Long orange extension cords snaked from the four in the school parking lot.

She stepped over the cords with care, holding Rose Anne on her hip. The little girl had woken with a sore throat. Though Carolyn suspected it was because she’d been yelling too much yesterday in games at the day care center, she agreed to the child’s demands to stay with her. Kevin had been glad to have his friends to himself, and Rose Anne seemed to perk up as soon as they headed toward the school.

Carolyn reached to open the door, but a hand stretched past her to grasp the handle. Seeing Michael and his two friends, she greeted them. She hadn’t been sure if they’d be coming to the meeting, too, and she was glad to see the men who’d invited her and the children to share supper with them the previous night.

Rose Anne wiggled to get down as soon as Carolyn carried her into the school. The little girl threw her arms around one of Michael’s legs and begged him for a piggyback ride.

“You don’t have to do that,” Carolyn told him.

He gave her a quick smile. Squatting, he waited for the child to lock her hands around his neck before he stood. He kept one arm against her to keep her steady as he loped a few yards along the hallway and back again.

“Go, horsey!” she called in excitement.

He set her on her feet, though she pleaded for another ride.

“One ride per customer,” he said, tapping her freckled nose.

“Later?” Rose Anne persisted.

“Let’s see what later brings.” Carolyn put her hands on the child’s shoulders and smiled her thanks to Michael. “I warned you offering rides to the kids last night was going to get you in trouble.”

“Gut trouble, though.”

“We’ll see when all the children in town are asking for rides after you’ve put in a full day’s work.” She took Rose Anne by the hand and began walking toward the gym.

The three men followed her, talking in Deitsch. The words fell like precious rain on her ears, but she chatted with Rose Anne as if none of what they were saying made sense to her. She wasn’t surprised the men were eager to get started. No plain man was accustomed to sitting in a classroom when work waited to be done. When she’d been growing up, every man she’d known had toiled from before sunrise to after dark. It didn’t matter if the man was a farmer or had a job in one of the nearby factories or owned his own shop. Being idle wasn’t part of the Amish lifestyle.

A woman Carolyn didn’t know stood in front of the gym’s closed double doors. Everything about her pose shouted she would tolerate no nonsense. When Carolyn said her name, the woman checked it on the clipboard she carried.

“Please wait out here,” the woman said. “We’re running about a half hour behind schedule.”

“All right.” Carolyn walked to the plastic chairs. Dropping into one, she lifted Rose Anne onto her lap. She should have borrowed a book from the day care center to keep the little girl entertained.

Michael sat next to her as his friends walked down the hall. Before she could ask, he said, “They’re going to go look for something to do for the next half hour.”

“You don’t need to wait with us.”

“The time will go faster if you’ve got someone to talk to.”

Sliding Rose Anne off her lap when her niece began to wiggle, Carolyn told her to stay in sight. The little girl nodded and began to jump from one black tile to the next on the checkered floor.

“I appreciate you staying here, but it’s not necessary,” Carolyn said, keeping her eyes on the child who could scurry away like a rabbit running from a dog. “I’m not sure I want the time to go faster.”

“Nervous?” Disbelief deepened his voice. “Why? These people are here to help you.”

“It’s not easy to ask others for help.”

“I get that.” He leaned back, crossed his arms over his chest and stretched his long legs out, much to Rose Anne’s delight as she began to leap over them. “But you’ve got to think about your kinder—I mean, your children.”

“They’re pretty much all I think about.” She wondered why it was so easy to be honest with Michael, whom she hadn’t known two days ago. “I’d do anything to make sure they’ve got a safe place to live.”

“Even deal with bureaucrats?” He reached out to steady Rose Anne when she almost tripped over his boots.

Carolyn smiled. “When you put it that way, going through this meeting isn’t too much to ask, is it?”

“Only you can answer that.”

“I thought I did.”

His laugh resonated down the otherwise empty hall. “Do you always speak plainly?”

“No.”

“I guess I should feel honored.”

“I guess you should.” She was about to add more, then realized the little girl was partway around a corner. Calling Rose Anne back, she said, “I shouldn’t have given in to her make-believe sore throat this morning. I should have insisted she stay at day care.” She crooked a finger at her niece who was edging toward the end of the hall again. “They’re accustomed to having me around, especially Rose Anne. She’s been going to nursery school, but it’s not the same as being left at the day care center all day, every day.”

“So she convinced you to let her come with you.”

“She didn’t have to try hard.” She held out her hand, and her niece ran over to take it. “I like spending time with my Rosie Annie.”

The little girl giggled as she leaned on Carolyn’s knee. “I’m sweat smelling, like a rose. That’s what Mommy always says.”

“Maybe not always, but you do smell sweet today.” She ruffled the child’s silken hair. Rose Anne had no memories of her real mother, and Kevin seemed to have forgotten Carolyn was his aunt. She thanked God every morning and night for that, though she prayed there would come a time when she could be honest. “Last night, you were dirty. It took a while to get you clean so you smelled as sweet as a rose again.” To Michael, who was grinning at how Rose Anne had called herself “sweat smelling,” she added, “We’re pretty much limited to a bucket of water each.”

“When can I take a big-girl bath again?” Rose Anne’s voice became a whine. “I miss my bath tube and my floatie fishies.”

She means bathtub, Carolyn mouthed so Michael could read her lips. When he nodded his understanding, she said aloud, “I can’t tell you when, but it’ll be...” She didn’t want to give the child a specific date because she didn’t have any idea how long it would take to build their new house. And she didn’t want to talk about the plastic toys Rose Anne called her floatie fishies. They had washed away with everything in the house.

Michael stood, then dropped to one knee beside her niece. That brought his eyes almost level with Rose Anne’s. “I can tell you when your new house and new bathtub will be ready. It’s going to be right after Christmas.”

“Christmas is a loooooooong time away,” Rose Anne argued.

“No, it’s not. Today is October twenty-fifth, so Christmas is exactly two months away.” Holding up two fingers, he lowered first one, then the other. “One-two. See? Quick like a bunny.”

“That’s what Mommy says. Quick like a bunny!” Rose Anne bounced with excitement. “Mr. Michael knows quick like a bunny, too.”

“I know.” As the little girl danced and twirled along the hall, Carolyn asked, “‘Mr. Michael?’”

“One of the ladies working at supper last night called me that, and the kids started using it.”

“You’re good with children. Do you have any?”

“No, but my brother has year-old twins, and there are plenty of kids in our settlement.” He surveyed the hall before adding, “My brother has his life set for him...as you do.”

She was amazed at his wistful tone. Michael had seemed so sure of himself. Was there a tragedy in his past, too, or did he have another reason to envy his brother’s choices in life?

The woman who’d stood by the gym doors came out and called, “Carolyn Wiebe? They’re ready for you.”

A shiver of anxiety trilled down her back, but Carolyn stood. When Rose Anne rushed to her side, she wasn’t sure if the little girl was aware of her agitation or wanted a change of scenery after exploring every inch of the hall. Carolyn glanced at Michael who’d gotten up, too, and she knew she wasn’t hiding her nerves from him.

But he didn’t offer her trite consolation. Instead, he motioned for her to lead the way.

In the gym, four round tables with plenty of chairs had been placed between the two sets of bleachers. Mats remained under the basketball hoops. Rose Anne took off her shoes and ran to join the other children playing on them.

“The kinder are having gut fun,” Michael said as the woman led them toward the most distant table.

Carolyn recognized fellow residents who’d lost their homes, and she guessed the others were volunteers like Michael and his friends. To avoid any chance of eavesdropping on their conversations, she replied, “The kids are having more fun now than we had the first night after the flood. For lots of us, those mats were our beds. We were so exhausted we would have slept on the wood floor.”

“Glen,” the woman with the clipboard said, “here’s your client. Carolyn Wiebe.”

Trying not to bristle at the woman’s tone that suggested Carolyn was an unworthy charity case, she was glad when the woman walked away.

“I’m Glen Landis,” said the man who was as thin as the hair across his pate. “The project director.”

“We’ve met,” Carolyn replied, pulling her tattered composure around her like a comfortable blanket. “About a year and a half ago, you came to speak at the Evergreen Corners Mennonite Meetinghouse about your experiences.”

“In the recovery efforts after Hurricanes Katrina and Harvey?” He smiled as Michael’s two friends jogged across the gym to join them. From his speech, she’d learned he considered rebuilding homes and communities his mission work. “Those were overwhelming experiences. I’ve been told you’ve met some of the people who’ll be working on your house.”

“I’ve met Benjamin, James and Michael.” She looked at each man as she said his name. Only belatedly did she realize how foolish she’d been to speak Michael’s name last. Without an excuse to shift away, her gaze lingered on him.

Michael gave her a bolstering smile, and she wished she could fling her arms around him as Rose Anne had. She hadn’t realized how much she needed someone’s support.

“Here comes the rest of the crew,” Glen said, motioning for everyone to take a seat.

He went around the table, introducing each person. Art Kennel was the man who looked like a jolly grandfather. Jose Lopez was almost as lanky as Glen and taller. The sole woman was Trisha Lehman. She had the same no-nonsense air about her as the woman by the door, but her smile put Carolyn at ease.

After leading them in prayer to thank God for His grace in bringing them together, Glen pulled a stack of pages stapled on one side out of a briefcase by his chair. He put them in front of Carolyn.

“This is our standard house plan.” He glanced around the table. “Several of you have already built one or more of these houses. If you haven’t or you want to examine the plans more closely, get a copy from me after this meeting.”

She stared at the simple house with a living room, kitchen, a bath and two bedrooms. It wasn’t as big as her previous house, but it would be more than sufficient for what she and the children needed.

As if she’d spoken aloud, Glen said, “Carolyn, if you see things you want to have changed, now is the time to tell us.”

“What sort of things?” She thought of the house the water had taken from her. That rundown house had been their home, something that couldn’t be drawn on paper.

“I know you have two children, a girl and a boy. If you want a third bedroom, so each child may have their own—something I’ve been told by my own kids is an absolute necessity—we can add one. It’s possible to get a second bathroom, but it’ll depend on the amount of money raised through donors and what you can contribute.”

“Definitely the extra bedroom, but one bathroom will suffice.”

“That we should be able to provide within the budget we’ve been given.” He opened a bright blue folder and wrote some notes before launching into an explanation of what each of the six pages in the plans contained.

Carolyn tried to take in the information on septic systems and wells and the required number of electric outlets and where a stackable washer and dryer could be put if she wanted to keep the coat closet by the front door and a linen cupboard in the bathroom. Her head spun with numbers and dimensions, and she was relieved when Glen reassured her they’d be revisiting the plans every day on the work site and once a week in the gym.

“The first supplies will be delivered this afternoon,” he announced as he refolded the plans. “We hope to start on your house within days. It’ll depend on the weather, of course.”

“I understand.” Looking around the table, she said, “Thank you, everyone. Your kindness humbles me. You make me want to live Hebrews 13:2 ‘Be not forgetful to entertain strangers: for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.’ My door will always be open to you.” She laughed. “Once I have a door, that is.”

The others joined in her laughter, and Michael took her hand under the table and squeezed it. A sense of comfort filled her at his compassion.

“Oh, one more thing,” Glen said. “We’ve asked the press to stay away, but we hope you’ll agree to a short interview, Carolyn, after we have the blessing for your new home. We’ve found seeing how others have worked with us leads to more people offering to volunteer. Everyone wants to be part of a happy ending to what started out as a sad story.”

Carolyn stiffened. “An interview?”

“Nothing complicated. A short film to put on our website to show donors how they’ve helped.”

Horror pulsed through every vein in her body, like the flood waters closing in around her again, only this time with fire atop of the rushing waves. She shook her head.

“Is that a problem?” asked Glen.

She pushed back her chair. “If doing an interview is a condition for your help, I can’t do this.”

“You don’t want our help?”

Wishing she didn’t have to see the shock on these kind faces, she wondered how much more appalled they’d be if she told them the truth of why she was turning down their offer. Would any of them have been able to comprehend the depth of fear stalking her in the form of Leland Reber?

“No,” she whispered.

Michael came to his feet along with everyone else at the table when Carolyn stood and, taking Rose Anne by the hand as the little girl protested she needed to retrieve her shoes, started for the door. Unlike everyone else who seemed frozen in shock, he couldn’t watch her throw away her future. Didn’t she realize how blessed she was to know what future she wanted?

As he strode after her, he was surprised to feel a pinch of vexation. Her future was assured if she agreed to the terms set out by Amish Helping Hands’ partners. She could enjoy a comfortable life with her kinder among her friends, neighbors and congregation. It was being handed to her, and she was turning her back on it.

How he envied her for having the chance to have the life she wanted! Nobody could offer him that, because he didn’t know how he wished his future to unfurl.

He blocked Carolyn’s path to the door. She started to walk around him, but he edged to the side, halting her.

“Are you out of your mind?” he asked, not caring that everyone in the gym was staring at him and Carolyn. He bent and whispered to Rose Anne to go play with the other kinder. As the little girl skipped across the gym, he looked at her mamm. “Your kinder can’t live the rest of their lives in a barn.”

“I don’t want to be interviewed.”

“If you’re shy—” he began, though he couldn’t believe that was the case. She’d been outgoing when he’d arrived.

“I don’t want to be interviewed.”

“Tell Glen that. I’m sure he can find someone else to talk to the reporters.”

“It’s not just being interviewed. I don’t want anyone taking our pictures.”

He frowned. “I thought the Mennonites were more liberal than we Amish are. When I first saw the news about the damage here, there were plenty of pictures of people gathered at your meetinghouse.”

“I don’t want it. Can’t that be answer enough?”

His first inclination was to say no, but seeing how distraught she was, he relented. He couldn’t help being curious why Carolyn—who’d been calm and rational yesterday—found such a simple request upsetting.

“Let me talk to Glen. You and your cute kids would provide great promotional material for them, but I’m sure he can find someone else who’s willing to be the focus of the article.”

She whispered her thanks, then began to apologize. When he stood near her, he was surprised how tiny she was. Her personality and heart were so big that she seemed to tower over others around her. Now she appeared broken. He wasn’t sure why, but he must halt her from making a huge mistake.

“No, Carolyn. There’s no need to ask for forgiveness. Not mine, anyhow, but you need to be honest with Glen and the rest of the team. They deserve to know how you feel.”

She lifted her chin and drew in a deep breath. “You’re right.”

“It’s been known to happen every once in a while.” His attempt at humor gained him the faintest of smiles from her, but it was enough for him to know she’d made up her mind to negotiate for what she had to have.

When they returned to the table where the other volunteers had left Glen sitting alone, the project director had closed the blue folder.

Michael felt his stomach clench. Did that mean Glen would be shutting down work on Carolyn’s house, too? Michael didn’t want to believe that, but he knew little about Englisch ways.

Pulling out a chair, Glen motioned for Carolyn to sit. He gave Michael a pointed look over her head, but Michael decided not to take the hint and allow the two to speak alone.

“I’m sorry to distress you,” Glen said in a subdued voice.

“I’m sorry I tried to storm out of here,” she whispered. “I can’t—I don’t want to be interviewed or have the children interviewed. I understand if you can’t build us a house.”

Michael saw his own questions on Glen’s face. Carolyn had used the word can’t. Why couldn’t she be interviewed? What was she trying to hide about herself and the kinder?

“Of course we’re going to build your house,” Glen replied. “We’d love to have you and the children be part of the information we share with possible volunteers and donors, but that’s not a requirement for you. I’m sorry if I gave you that impression.”

“Don’t blame yourself,” she said, once more with the quiet composure Michael admired. “I’m on edge. If someone says boo, I’ll jump high enough to hit my head on the clouds.”

Glen laughed. “We’ll keep that in mind when we’re ready to put the roof on your house. We wouldn’t want you to go right through it the first day.”

Fifteen minutes later, Michael stood in the hall with his friends from Harmony Creek Hollow while Carolyn knelt nearby, tying Rose Anne’s bright red and yellow sneakers. He spoke in Deitsch. Benjamin and James, peppering him with questions about why Carolyn had reacted as she had and if the project was moving forward, used the same language. He didn’t want Carolyn to know they were talking about her, though he guessed she had some suspicion of that because she glanced in their direction a couple of times. He told his friends he wasn’t sure what had bothered her.

“We might never know,” he said.

“Women,” grumbled Benjamin. “One thing I learned from my sister is it’s impossible to guess what they’re thinking. I’ve figured out it’s better not to try.”

James nodded. “I guess that’s why we’re bachelors.”

Michael changed the subject to the next day when they’d start loading building materials onto a donated forklift and moving them to the construction site.

“It’ll take us at least a day to get the forms set up and ready for concrete,” Benjamin added.

“Do we have tarps to protect the supplies from rain and mud?”

“I saw some among the pallets of supplies.” James scratched behind his ear as he mused, “There are three houses being started at the same time. I wonder if we’ve got enough supplies.”

“Let’s not look for trouble before we find it,” Michael replied, clapping his friend on the shoulder.

“Thanks for coming today,” Carolyn said as she walked past them. “I’m sorry for the scene I caused. Let me make it up to you. I’ll have the keys for the forklift waiting for you at supper so you can get a good start in the morning. See you there.”

Michael stared after her. They’d been talking in Deitsch. Yet, Carolyn had spoken about the forklift as if she’d understood everything they’d said.

How was that possible?

Looking at his friends, he saw the same consternation on their faces.

“Deitsch isn’t so different from German,” James said. “If she’s fluent in German, she’d get the gist of our conversation.”

“Ja.” Michael didn’t add more.

But if his friend wasn’t right, it meant one thing: Carolyn Wiebe might not be what she appeared to be.

Chapter Four

Michael quietly shut the door to the trailer he was sharing with his friends from Harmony Creek Hollow and stepped out into the cold morning. He didn’t want to wake Benjamin or James or anyone else who might be asleep in the other travel trailer parked behind the used car dealership. The two trailers had been donated for the workers rebuilding the homes. He hadn’t expected anything so comfortable when he’d volunteered.

Though describing the cramped trailer as comfortable wasn’t accurate. With three full-grown men trying to squeeze past each other as they got ready each morning and went to bed each night for the past three days, it was a tight squeeze. However, the narrow bed where he slept had a gut mattress.

He looked at his trousers. They were his next-to-last clean pair. The local laundromat had told volunteers that as soon as the business was open in a couple of weeks, they were welcome to come in anytime to wash their clothes for free. Something in the water had left a dirty line above the tops of his rubber boots. The scum might have been gasoline or fuel oil or some other chemical that had leaked into the brook after the flood swept cars and furnaces and everything else along it. He hadn’t seen the telltale rainbow sheen, but it might have dissipated enough so it was no longer visible.