A Christmas Haven Read online

  He was never sure how he felt about Ivy. He liked her outspoken ways and sense of humor, and she was nothing like he imagined someone leaving for the world would be. She seemed respectful of her Mamm, who was kind, lenient, and giving. So why wasn’t being here enough for her?

  She put the tray on the stump. There was a perfectly good picnic table on the other side of the yard, and he wanted to ask her to sit there with him. But realizing that was what he wanted bothered him, so he turned two logs upright for seats, grabbed the sandwich and lemonade, and sat.

  Ivy remained standing. “Do you ever stop moving during the day?”

  “Daylight is a gift.” He shrugged. “And our ancestors lived that way.”

  “They did.” Ivy sat on the upturned log. “It’s admirable, but for them it was also absolutely necessary. We have a choice.”

  “Or in your case, the choice has you.” Arlan swallowed another bite of the sandwich.

  Ivy pinned him with a hard stare. “Um, change of subject.” She interlaced her fingers and cupped them over her knees, looking relaxed. “So you said you enjoy reading fiction?”

  He chuckled, and it surprised him. Despite her desire to leave the Amish, she was a very diplomatic and interesting woman. “I do, at least I think I do. Your Mamm gave me some books off her shelves, and those haven’t been too interesting.”

  Ivy chuckled. “I guess not. If they came from Mamm’s bookshelves, they’re classified as women’s fiction, meant for women.”

  “Women’s fiction?”

  Ivy’s eyes danced, but she stopped short of actually laughing. “What do you enjoy reading?”

  “I only have five books. I dug them out of a garbage bin years ago and kept them hidden in the hayloft.” He’d never told anyone about that. “But they’re fantastic every single time I read them. The Count of Monte Cristo, Oliver Twist, Robinson Crusoe, the Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, and Johnny Tremain.”

  “Got it. You like adventure, male centric. Probably would prefer historic settings to contemporary. I’ll see what I can dig up.”

  “You might have some here?”

  “Definitely. Daed loved to read a good adventure story.”

  “Really?” Was she teasing him?

  She studied him, those blue eyes filled with earnestness. “Didn’t any of the men in your district read fiction?”

  Arlan shook his head. “Nor the women, although after seeing what women’s fiction is all about, I’m not sure I blame them.”

  Ivy chortled. “They may not be male adventure, but they’re good reads, and you know it.”

  Her laughter was contagious, and he felt humor stir inside him. “I may know it, but you can’t make me fess up to it.”

  “True.” She held up her hands in surrender. “Not interested in making you do anything. Some of my fondest childhood memories are of my whole family sitting in the living room every night, reading various books. Even after we could read ourselves, Daed would read aloud to us, and then we’d talk about it. Now those were lively conversations. I haven’t read the five you mentioned, or we could tell each other what we think.”

  “Since I’ve read them, how about I summarize the stories and tell you what to think about each part?”

  She laughed again, and he realized how beautiful her laughter was. “What would be the fun or frustration of that?”

  “Who needs fun or frustration?” he teased.

  “ ‘A merry heart doeth good like a medicine,’ so there’s your answer for why to have fun. And in those moments of frustration over someone’s opinion, our way of thinking is being challenged and broadened. It’s a beautiful thing.”

  How could someone so balanced in their thinking and emotions want to leave her people? “Hey, Ivy, if frustration over other people’s opinions is so beautiful, let me share with you—”

  “Nee.” She stood. “Let’s end this conversation on a good note.”

  But he was curious why she was so intent on leaving her home. Was he missing something? “Could I ask you a question about your plans to leave?”

  She sat. “It’s likely to ruin these few moments of good vibes we have going.”

  “Ya, but I need to know.”

  “Then ask.”

  “Your Mamm is kind and lenient. From what I’ve heard, your bishop is a fair man in every way. Under those circumstances don’t you think you’re wrong to leave the Amish?”

  “I don’t. No.” She shook her head. “If your life had the kind of freedom you needed, you wouldn’t be here. If my life had the kind of freedom I need, I wouldn’t have to break with my family to pursue an honorable dream. But I do have to, and it eats at me on the inside.” Her voice broke as she knotted her fist and tapped her chest. “I shouldn’t have to disappoint or hurt anyone to live in an upstanding Englisch home or room with my Englisch friend or be a party planner for weddings, bachelors, bachelorettes, moms-to-be, and children’s birthdays.”

  “I’m not sure a person needs all those festivities.”

  “I get that. I’m not always sure the client needs all of that either. Some spend five to six hundred dollars for a child’s birthday. But then I remind myself that maybe it’s the one thing that child or parent needs to get through the upcoming days.”

  “They can’t need it. It’s a party, for Pete’s sake.”

  “You realize that’s judgmental, right?”

  “I’m just saying it how it is.”

  “No. It’s judgmental, and we both know that Jesus tells us not to judge.”

  “How does one not see a situation for what it is?”

  “Judging says, ‘Your leaving is wrong! I can give you a long list of why it’s wrong, and if you follow through, you’ll pay the price for sure!’ Assessing says, ‘You’re leaving, and I’m concerned it may be wrong. Maybe my concerns are just my fears coming out, but I’d like to share my thoughts, and you can decide which is right.’ ” She shrugged. “See the difference?”

  “Okay.” This was an interesting conversation. Serious, yet he felt lighthearted, as if they were teasing their way to truth. This was definitely new territory for him. “I assess that party planning may be a colossal waste of money and that it may teach people, especially children, that they are the center of the universe.”

  “Better. Still leaning toward judgmental but a clear improvement. So think about this.” She stretched her legs out and crossed her ankles. “About a month before my Daed died, he took me to an ice cream stand, and he let me choose whatever flavors of ice cream I wanted. He said it was ‘I love Ivy day,’ and he didn’t want me to forget it.” Her eyes filled with tears, and she took a deep breath. “The server put each scoop in a container so big”—she gestured with her hands several inches apart—“that no child needed that much. Not any child. We sat at the picnic table while I ate and talked nonstop in my excitement. Looking back, I realize he didn’t care what any onlooker thought of my enormous dish of ice cream. On the days I felt as if I was going to die from the grief of losing him, the memory of that day eased my mind, bringing comfort, and I could breathe again.”

  “Okay.” Arlan’s vision blurred with tears. He rubbed his eyes with his palms, unable to believe all he felt. “Parties for everyone. Huge ones.” He stretched his arms out. “Whatever the parents want. It’s not my place to judge.”

  Ivy grinned. “Exactly.” She raised one hand toward him, but he had no idea why. She grabbed his wrist and slapped his palm against hers. “It’s called a high five.”

  He raised his brows.

  “It’s a thing, evidently not for Swartzentrubers.”

  “The Swartzentrubers are right about not doing that one thing if nothing else.”

  Ivy laughed. “High fives? Maybe so. Speaking of parties and events, I’m coordinating a fall festival for the end of October for a preschool, and I’m
going to need some muscle.”

  “Sure. Not a problem.” He set his empty glass on the tray. “Denki for the food.” He jammed the splitting maul into the log on the stump so no one would trip over it. “Polka Dot has been missing for a few hours. Since it’s time for her to drop her calf, I best go look for her.” Ivy had been asking him about Polka Dot every day all week long. “Would you like to walk with me?”

  She blinked and then smiled. “I’d like that.”

  When they reached the cattle gate, he opened it and held it for her, but as she entered, he heard the crunching of gravel under tires, probably car tires. “You expecting someone?”

  Ivy shook her head. “Let’s see who it is. It could take a while to find Polka Dot, and I wouldn’t want to make someone wait for us to return.”

  “I like your logic”—he held the gate as she came back through—“except when you mix in a whole lot of emotions.” He fastened the gate tight.

  “Me to a T.” She chuckled. “You think intelligently until a whole lot of judgment floods in. Try remembering the verse in Galatians that says it is for freedom that Christ has set us free.”

  Arlan mulled over her words as they strode toward the house. He saw a large van, the kind that carried families of Amish. A moment later he spotted Lorraine next to the vehicle, and her parents were with her.

  Even if he did think intelligently, none of it was at work right this moment. His brain seemed frozen.

  “Arlan?” Ivy shook his arm.

  He realized he’d stopped cold. “It’s my girlfriend and her parents.”

  “Oh.” Ivy nudged him forward. “Go,” she whispered.

  Arlan swallowed hard and hurried toward them. Betty was outside and meeting his parents by the time he walked up. He nodded. “Hallo.”

  The jangle of Pennsylvania Dutch words coming at him from all three of them at once was overwhelming. But Lorraine had all his attention. They’d not seen each other in two years, and this wasn’t the way he’d envisioned their meeting again.

  “Die entsetzlich Druwwel Du duscht.” She gazed into his eyes, looking earnest.

  He hadn’t expected her first words to him would be “The awful trouble you do.”

  “Kumm. Loss uns schwetze.”

  Lorraine looked at her Daed for approval when Arlan asked her to come with him and talk.

  He nodded. “Ya.”

  Arlan spoke to Lorraine’s parents and shook her Daed’s hand. Betty invited the parents inside, but they asked to sit at the picnic table, saying it was a beautiful day. The driver sat in the vehicle with the engine running, and her parents weren’t going inside, so they didn’t intend to stay long.

  Just beyond earshot Lorraine stopped walking. “Arlan.” She bit her bottom lip and smiled up at him. “I have good news. I talked to my Daed. He’s worked out a deal with your bishop and mine. If you and Magda get in the van right now, we can go to your house and ask forgiveness from your parents and church leaders. Then you can ride back with us to the New York community immediately afterward. You can stay with your brother if he’s willing, but my older brother has agreed for you to stay with him while you get your feet under you.”

  That was quite an agreement she’d worked out. How had she managed it? Far more important, why wasn’t he even a little excited at the idea of going to New York immediately?

  “What kind of trouble will Magda be in?”

  “She’ll return home, where she belongs. She’ll be fine. Of course her life won’t be as smooth and easy as yours. Her sin is what caused you to leave with her, and she’ll have to answer for that.”

  “So I get off scot-free. Nee, I’m rewarded for my sin by being allowed to move to New York sooner than before, and Magda will be punished?”

  She shooed a fly away from her face. “You have a good heart. It’s big and kind, and it’s why I’ve always wanted to marry you, but Magda’s sin is hers to bear. It’s not yours to carry for her or your duty to run with her so she can avoid the wisdom of your parents.”

  Were those her words or her parents’?

  He picked up several small rocks from the gravel driveway and threw one down the lane. “My actions seem rebellious and foolish. I know they do, but Magda was so sick, and she needed—”

  “Okay, but what’s done is done. You need to think about what you’re doing now.”

  Lorraine sounded different from the girl he remembered.

  “You need to do as your parents and community want before they refuse to let you join the church or move to New York. This nonsense could destroy us. How could you put me in this position?”

  He hadn’t told her about his parents’ plans to take the baby from Magda and raise it as their own. That would mar his parents’ reputations, and he wouldn’t do that.

  “Lorraine, hear me out, please.” He told her how sick Magda had been and how unfair his parents were to her when she needed help and how Magda didn’t deserve to be punished. “Love forgives, and it keeps no record of wrongs. We should feel compassion for Magda.”

  “What?” She shook her head. “I feel angry, and you should too. It was wrong, and you let her off ‘scot-free,’ as you worded it.”

  “She’s not free. She’s already paid a stiff price, and she’ll continue to pay for years and years. She may never find someone to marry after this, and she’s given up what few opportunities would have been available to her in order to keep this baby. Everyone knows her sin. She doesn’t need our anger as well.”

  She scoffed. “She’s paying the consequences for coming up pregnant, but that’s not the same as being disciplined for her disobedience.”

  The Lorraine he thought he knew was hidden under a hardness that disappointed him.

  He threw another rock as far as he could, releasing some of his pent-up frustrations. “We’re not ready to go home. I’ve made a commitment to this family who has helped us out so much. I need to honor what I said to Betty and stay at least until December.”

  “That’s three months from now! You’ve disobeyed your family and church, but you intend to keep your word to an outsider? Do I even know you?”

  Apparently not, but how could she? He barely knew himself since he’d plowed into the pharmacy. It was as if he’d only begun to read the book describing his childhood and, while reading it, was learning how he’d felt and what he’d thought back when those events unfolded, as well as how he felt about them now. He also believed that writing revealed his inner workings, and it did, but whatever was happening as he continued to stay here was revealing far more.

  “Nee, you don’t know me, and it’s not your fault. We barely knew each other when you moved away.”

  Their relationship had been mostly stolen glances at each other from across the room. She’d been nineteen when her family moved away and they had promised to marry. He’d thought he was in love with her, but as he stood here today, he knew what he’d been in love with was the hope she represented, the hope of moving away from his parents and into a district that wasn’t as strict. He’d always wanted to work a farm, and the whole plan of helping his brother purchase one—although his financial contribution had been small—and moving to a new state had bolstered his hope. Having a girl to marry completed his hope. But now he realized Lorraine had represented hope for his future, and that’s what he kept writing to—hope. Not Lorraine. He’d thought he looked forward each day to writing to her, but what he’d really enjoyed was the writing itself. It helped him process his thoughts and emotions. He’d realized this rather vaguely after arriving here when he wrote to her but didn’t mail those letters. The joy of writing had been the same.

  “Lorraine.” He wanted to promise her that he’d return home when his commitment here was done, but the words refused to leave his mouth. “I’m not going home right now. I can’t.”

  “Don’t you want to marry me?”r />
  Arlan’s heart thudded. “I’m sorry. I really am, but we never should’ve talked so freely of marrying when we barely knew ourselves, much less each other.” He angled his head, trying to catch her eye. “I’m sorry, Lorraine.”

  She turned away from him and strode back toward her parents. Wasn’t that an odd response? Was hardness all she had? Shouldn’t there be some emotion and strong words slung at him?

  Maybe this was who she was. Exacting. Her way or no way. Or maybe she was no more in love with him than he was with her.

  Had they both been in love with the idea of marriage? In love with the dream and hope of marriage? As confusing as his internal life was since he entered his teen years, he’d always wanted three things: to know God, to have a family of his own someday, and to farm. For years he thought the answer to all that was moving to New York and joining the Swartzentruber Amish there.

  Hope crumbled, and nothing made sense. Had he deluded himself all this time? His head spun, feeling the earthquake and its aftershocks.

  As hard as this moment was, he braced himself for what had to be said to her family. He followed Lorraine to the picnic table, with everyone watching his every move as he approached.

  The wind picked up, smelling of rain, and thunder rumbled in the distance. Before too long, hopefully before a thunderstorm moved in, he needed to find Polka Dot and her new calf. But right now he had to focus on talking to Lorraine’s parents. If all he knew was his people’s teachings of what was right and wrong, he wouldn’t have the courage to break his word to Lorraine’s family. He would cave under the thoughts of the sinfulness of his actions. But he’d dug those fiction books out of the garbage all those years ago, and despite how blasphemous it felt, he drew courage from the pools of thought he found in those books. In them made-up people expressed honest thoughts because real people who’d experienced life outside of Swartzentruber life had poured out their hearts in the books. He drew strength for this moment even from the overzealous freedom-seeking Ivy. She might be missing the mark by miles, but at least she was willing to stand up for what she wanted.

  Arlan stopped near the table, and the Zooks excused themselves and went inside. Movement at a window in the Zook home caught his attention, and he saw Magda peeping out from behind a curtain. She had to be terrified, and he wanted to smile and nod, assuring her it would be all right, but he thought it best not to draw attention to her presence.