A Christmas Haven Read online

  “Nee. I’m fine.”

  “You milked the herd by yourself last night for me.” Red removed the milkers from the main line. “Evidently the girls are off for a bit, and at least one of them has your attention. Go.”

  Arlan frowned. “I should stay here. Your sister will appreciate it. Plus, she’s confusing.”

  Red chuckled. “Ivy’s an independent thinker, for sure, but she’s also very kind and caring, so she confuses lots of Amish. But you know what’s most likely to clear the confusion? Talking to the person.”

  Arlan dumped straw and dung onto the pile in the wheelbarrow. “Your family can’t think it’s a good idea for Ivy and me to get along.”

  “Wrong.” Red laughed. “What are you possibly going to say or do that would cause an issue with us? Although, fair warning, it could be a problem for Ivy. She’s planning to leave after Holly’s wedding to live Englisch.”

  Arlan didn’t look up from his work.

  “This isn’t new information to you, is it?”

  “Nee.” Arlan moved the wheelbarrow a few feet down the line.

  “Then by all means talk to her, argue with her, flirt with her, and make her rethink leaving. Anything. Something. But don’t stand there and do nothing.” Red pointed toward the target area. “Geh.”

  Nervousness skittered through Arlan. Although most days they sat at the same kitchen table for at least two meals and had lively discussions about books, and although they’d worked the fall festival and cleaned out the carriage house together, he generally avoided her. “Okay, I’ll go.”

  Maybe he could talk some sense into her about leaving. He hung the pitchfork on the wall of the barn, turned on the hose to rinse off his boots and hands, and strode toward the target area.

  Ivy had yet to hit the target or the wall of hay bales that extended way beyond the target. How was that possible?

  Magda cackled. “Try opening your eyes this time.”

  “Where’s the fun in that?” Ivy asked.

  Who aimed at a target and then shot with her eyes closed? Target practice only made sense if one was trying to learn or improve a skill. Otherwise she was wasting time.

  Magda stood, her hands on her protruding stomach. “I have to go before I pee on my dress.” She walked away, smiling and looking at the ground. She came within a few feet of Arlan and gasped. “Goodness, let a girl know you’re nearby.”

  “Hey, Magda.” Arlan shoved his hands into his jacket pockets. “I’m nearby.”

  “Denki.” She giggled and kept walking.

  The sky was purple and peach now, looking as if God were painting the sunset right this minute.

  Ivy gathered a couple of arrows. “You any good at this?”

  “Not particularly, but I think I could be horrible and still be better than you.” He raised his brows, surprised by how amused he was at her, despite her wasting time on this game.

  “Ya? Think so?” She smiled and held out the bow and arrow. “Have at it.”

  He took them, notched an arrow into the bowstring, pulled back, aimed, and released. The arrow hit the outer blue ring and sank in the hay bales.

  “Not bad.” Ivy got an arrow from the quiver, notched it, aimed, and let it fly. Her arrow hit a good two inches closer to the bull’s-eye than his had.

  “Wow. I’m impressed.”

  “Ya, me too.” Ivy stared at the target. “The real trick is to do it with your eyes closed.”

  He picked up the quiver from the ground and pulled out an arrow. “It’s a waste of time to shoot at a target with your eyes closed.”

  “And you need to save every minute”—Ivy poked his shoulder with her finger—“so you have more time to ponder right and wrong.”

  “True. There’s a lot to think about because life outside the Swartzentruber community is quite confusing.” Reading books and writing down his thoughts helped, but confusion over right and wrong was his constant companion.

  “And life inside your Swartzentruber community wasn’t?”

  He hadn’t thought of that. “Ya, actually it was. Very.” There was a rule for everything, and it corresponded to a Bible verse, so the order made sense. But his Daed and Mamm seemed so caught up in keeping the rules that they were exhausted and wound tight and only saw their children through the eyes of what they hadn’t done right. “Maybe I’m just the kind of person who feels vexed and confused no matter where I am.”

  “Maybe.” She walked toward the target, gathering arrows. “Truth is, I constantly ponder what’s right and wrong too.” She plucked the last arrow from the ground. “It’s hard on us to be obedient when an authority shoves information at us that differs from what we think is right.”

  “Wait. You see yourself as obedient?” He passed her an arrow.

  She laughed. “Clearly you don’t. But, ya, I think it’s my nature to be obedient to Mamm and the Ordnung. Then I start thinking about what was said, and I can’t be obedient because what’s being said doesn’t add up.”

  “Example, please.”

  They walked back to the firing point, and Ivy notched an arrow. “As I read it, the Word says that my long hair is my glory, and it is given as my covering, and yet I have to part it in the middle, comb it down tight, and pin it up in an exact bun in an exact spot on my head.”

  “What difference does it make how you wear your hair?”

  “If it doesn’t matter, why is wearing it any other way strictly forbidden?” She released the arrow, and it hit the yellow part of the target.

  “Because we dress modestly, men and women.”

  “As far as hair goes, a ponytail or a messy bun would be modest, but those are forbidden.”

  “Ya, I see what you mean.” He wasn’t very good at debating why she should stay.

  “Oh.” She reached into her hidden pocket. “I picked up the mail earlier, and I forgot to shove yours under your door.” She passed him a letter.

  It was from Lorraine. “I don’t know why she is still writing me.”

  “I imagine that’s hard, but with a bit of time, surely she’ll see your heart and sacrifice concerning Magda, and she’ll love you for it and forgive you for leaving.”

  In each letter Lorraine wrote that she still wanted to marry him. Why?

  He tapped an arrow against his pant leg. “It’s not like that. I…I realized I wasn’t in love with her. I just didn’t know that until she came here.”

  “Does she know this?” Ivy held the bow out to him.

  “Ya. I told her.” He took the bow and notched an arrow. “The hard part is letting everyone down.”

  “Ya. I understand that far more than I want to. Most of us want to do what’s expected of us and what we’re told.”

  He released the arrow, hitting just outside Ivy’s last arrow. “What do you think my chances are of the inner turmoil and confusion stopping?”

  “I wouldn’t know, but having faith in God’s grace made a huge difference for me.”

  “What is grace to you, Ivy?”

  “It’s a gift.” She lowered the bow and arrow. “I can’t keep enough laws to earn my way into righteousness. I can, however, please Him through walking in faith, hope, and love.”

  Her words clicked inside him, as if unlocking something. Thoughts poured out from their formerly locked space, releasing equal parts optimism and confusion. He felt something similar when reading, except this wasn’t just new worlds or ideas. These thoughts were feeding and changing his faith.

  He couldn’t manage to sort through them yet, but he knew his main concern. “Without rules people get lazy, and we’d end up a mess of self-indulgence.”

  “Maybe you’re right. Seriously. But if being filled with faith, hope, and love isn’t enough to guide us, how would something as lifeless as rules and laws manage it?” She aimed the arrow again, and this
time she released it. It flew through the air and landed at the outer edge of the bull’s-eye.

  “But people’s expectations hold us accountable.”

  “They sure do.” She lowered the bow, fidgeting with it. “We just have to be sure that we’re not so busy meeting their expectations that we forget God’s expectations may look very different.”

  Did that mean God’s expectations might look rebellious to well-meaning, good folk?

  The new ideas and understandings crashed into him, shattering misconceptions like plate glass. No law caused him to leave home with Magda, and that was the hardest and best decision he’d ever made. “He’s not asking people to follow a set of laws, is He?” Arlan paused, reeling at the depth of insight spinning in his head that went way beyond any words he could form. “He’s saying, ‘Follow Me.’ ”

  Ivy nodded, but her face had become solemn. “I think so too, but how can we know we’re following Him and not ourselves? I look at my sister, at all she’s sacrificing to marry Josh, and I look at you, at all you sacrificed to get Magda to safety and to stay by her side. And whether you agree or not, my leaving is a sacrifice too. But how do any of us know if we’re sacrificing the right things?”

  “I see what you mean. If we’d chosen differently, we would’ve still sacrificed things, just different things.”

  “Ya, exactly. Is my sister right to sacrifice so much to marry the man she loves?”

  “When I was debating whether to leave with Magda, I imagined what the outcome might be if I left with her, and then I imagined the possible outcome if I didn’t leave. Were the ends going to justify the means?”

  “Then it sounds as if love justifies the sacrifice.” Ivy tapped an arrow against her shoulder. “The health needs of the Amish can be met in other ways, but only Holly and Josh can fill up to overflowing the love between them, and only they can have their children. Everything else is a sacrifice worth making.” Ivy pointed the arrow at him. “That about the ends justifying the means was really good, Arlan. I get it.” She shivered. “But I’m cold, and it’s getting late.”

  “Okay.” He took the bow and arrow from her. “I think I’ll try some target practice in the dark. Can’t be any worse than you with your eyes closed.”

  She pushed the rods of two arrows against his chest. “This is true. Enjoy.” She scurried toward the house.

  Arlan looked skyward, seeing twinkling stars. It seemed as if God was saying, Hear Me. Think. Trust your heart to Me, not to any group of people.

  Years ago while working in a field one day, he’d said a prayer in which he had repented and accepted Christ. In that moment his trust in grace had seemed invincible. But his mind, Daed, and preachers kept telling him to fulfill the laws of God, and he fell back into those ways.

  Tonight the sky had more stars than he could count, and in his mind’s eye they seemed to represent people. Did God guide and lead all those people with a singular church’s belief of how life should be lived?

  He aimed an arrow in the direction of the target although it was now too dark to see it. But this is what it felt like to try to understand God—like shooting an arrow in the dark.

  By grace you are saved.

  And he knew that hitting the bull’s-eye of understanding God saved no one. And he was pretty sure no one really hit that bull’s-eye no matter how much they claimed to. God was too vast for laws to be sufficient in pleasing Him, too holy for any amount of law keeping to come close to being good enough.

  Grace was the answer, and grace freed him from the need to follow Old Testament laws or to be exacting.

  So did that mean he didn’t need to follow the Old Order Amish ways either? He’d come out here to talk Ivy out of leaving, and this was the question on his mind?

  Eighteen

  Ivy stood in front of her caroling group, taking in the sight of the carriage house filled to capacity with her friends’ singing and their smiling faces. They had a fire going in the potbellied wood stove, an addition Mamm had made to the space years ago to accommodate such gatherings and stave off the mid-November chill. With that and the warmth from all her friends, the small space was cozy. She tried not to cringe as several male singers hit some sour notes in the chorus of “Angels We Have Heard on High.” Arlan stood near the area where the sour notes originated, but in three weeks of caroling practice, she’d realized he had a great singing voice.

  Some of the new singers the group had gained this year were fantastic, like Magda and Arlan. Others not so much. But it really didn’t matter. Judging by the laughter and smiles at each rehearsal, the whole group enjoyed the practices. It was nice that Magda had been allowed to participate, especially since she couldn’t attend the youth singings. Those were for finding a spouse, and as understanding as Ivy’s people had been about Magda, they wouldn’t be comfortable with her attending that.

  Someone snickered as the song ended. Ah, they were messing with her. Ivy narrowed her eyes at the group of guys sitting in the area of the wrong notes. “Lovely harmonies, Snow Buntings. But it sounds to me as if a few of you are volunteering to sing a solo.” The snickering stopped. “No one? Fine. Moving on.”

  How Ivy adored Christmas and everything about the season. The beautiful carols, the cozy feel, the decorations in the pharmacy, the food, and most of all the story of her Savior being born into such a lowly but loving family.

  What should they sing now? She flipped to the next page of the lyrics. “Turn your lyric sheets to ‘Lo, How a Rose E’er Blooming.’ Remember, we’re trying to memorize as many words as we can over the next few weeks. Our first caroling takes place in just three weeks, which is mid-December.”

  “It’s a lot of words,” a male voice called. “We think you should hold up signs for us. Or at least some hand signals.” More snickering.

  Ivy held up a finger and shook it at them. “Nope and nope. Ready?” She started singing, and the group quickly joined her.

  “Lo, how a Rose e’er blooming from tender stem hath sprung!”

  This was such a beautiful song. As they sang the familiar lyrics, Ivy found herself looking at Magda, who was reading her lyric sheet. At the first practice she said she’d never sung these songs before. Ivy wasn’t sure how much actual caroling Magda would be able to do. She’d have a baby right around the time everyone celebrated the birth of the Savior. From the little that Magda had told her about the situation, the baby’s Englischer father didn’t want anything to do with her or the child. He wanted freedom. But the price would be that he’d miss everything. And Magda was wonderful. Her baby was sure to be an incredible blessing to all those around her.

  “It came, a floweret bright, amid the cold of winter, when half spent was the night.”

  Listen, Ivy, a voice seemed to say to her as the song flowed through her throat and lips. She sang the rest of the words on autopilot, letting the words resound in her heart.

  “Amid the cold of winter.” A “tender stem” that was Jesus bloomed.

  What was God trying to tell her?

  The song ended. Chills ran across her skin, from her head to her feet, and her heart seemed to be doing a dance of some sort. She needed to stop the rehearsal to figure this out. It was almost time to disperse for the Sunday singing and games anyway. “Okay, Snow Buntings. That sounded so good that I think we should stop the rehearsal.”

  “You sure? Maybe we should sing it again to see if sounding good was a mistake,” Lizzie, one of Ivy’s friends from childhood, teased. Ivy had said that same line many times in her rehearsals.

  What would Ivy gain by becoming Englisch that would be worth giving up her Amish family, both her immediate family and the extended “family” of the community? In light of all Holly was sacrificing, this question wasn’t new for Ivy, but it felt different tonight—as if God was trying to talk to her. She needed to get somewhere quiet.

  “Nee, get
out of here.” She waved her hand to shoo them away. How she loved this group. “Please stack your lyric sheets in the crate by the door. See you again next week. It’s just a few Sundays till Christmas.”

  Magda and Arlan hesitated, neither falling in line to leave nor approaching Ivy. She smiled at them. “You’re free too. Geh.” She waved goodbye to her group.

  Everyone left, and soon she heard heavy footfalls on the steps leading to the apartment above the carriage house.

  She grabbed her black sweater hanging over the back of her stool and looked out the window. Daylight saving time had ended earlier in the month, so at six o’clock it was already dark. Still, she could see well enough to know some of the singers were in groups, chatting rather than quickly getting into their rigs. The desire to get alone somewhere and pray pressed in on her.

  Could she sneak off before someone tried to talk to her? As she stepped outside, the cold wind hit her, and she tightened the sweater around her. Going to think somewhere outside in the wind wouldn’t do.

  An idea struck. She crossed the dark yard and headed into the barn. Once inside she picked up a kerosene lantern that was hanging on the wall and lit it. The ladder to the hayloft was no longer broken, one of Arlan’s many repairs on the farm. With the lantern in one hand, she made sure of each step as she climbed the ladder. When she reached the loft, she walked around the piles of hay until she saw what she was looking for.

  There they were. In the very back of the hayloft, she’d stashed a few sealed shoebox-size plastic containers. She knelt, set the lantern on one of the plastic bins, and opened another. Inside was her secret stash of Christmas decorations, the ones she didn’t dare put in the front of the pharmacy for fear of their getting broken. Every year she found a few old ornaments in yard sales and added them to her stash. If Mamm had noticed them, she’d never said anything.

  She unwrapped a couple of glass ornaments and watched them twinkle in the lamplight before setting them in the hay. The one she was searching for was somewhere in this section. There. She felt the silky cloth that shrouded it: a circular blown-glass ornament with each side shaped like a rosebud and frosted with glittery “snow.”