Amish Christmas Memories

Chapter Three

Caleb bought the seven alpacas that afternoon.

His father had finally said, “You saved the money yourself. If it’s what you want, then give it a try.”

“Strangest animal I’ve ever seen” was his mother’s only comment.

Caleb spent the rest of the week making sure the alpacas had adequate space in the barn, reinforcing fencing where he would pasture them and generally getting to know the strange beasts.

His parents came out once a day to check on the animals and his best friend, Gabriel, had been by twice. Mostly he’d laughed at Caleb’s feeble attempts to interact with them.

As for Rachel, she hadn’t stepped outside of the house at all. If anything, she’d seemed physically worse on Wednesday and Thursday. At one point, his mamm had walked down to the phone shack and contacted the doctor, who had called in a prescription for nausea and told her to be patient. “These things take time” were the doctor’s exact words.

So Caleb was surprised when he was in the field with the alpacas on Friday morning and looked up to see Rachel leaning against the fence. She wore a proper dress and coat, plus one of the outer bonnets she’d been given, though there was little wind and the sun had melted away every last trace of snow. She also sported sunglasses, an old pair of his mother’s if he remembered correctly. In the crook of her arm she was carrying a bowl that his mother used to dump scraps into.

“Nice to see you outside.”

“If I sit in the house one more day, I might go crazy. One can only read so much or do so many crossword puzzles.”

“I wouldn’t know.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Only that I work every day from sunrise until dark.”

“Life of a farmer, I guess.”

“Amish women work hard, too. At least most of them do.”

“Kind of hard to find a job if you can’t remember anything more than your first name.”

Caleb shrugged. Rachel could find work if she wanted it. They both knew it. Instead of defending herself further, she changed the subject.

“Have you named them?”

“Nein. We don’t name our cows.”

“I don’t see any cows.”

“We only have three—all dairy cows. They’re in the east pasture.”

“Oh. I guess I haven’t been in that direction yet.” She reached out her hand and one of the alpacas moseyed over to sniff at her palm.

“I’d call you Mocha.”

The alpaca stood completely still and allowed her to rub its top notch of hair.

“How’d you do that? They won’t let me within five feet of them.”

When the male alpaca began to crunch on something, one of the females bounded over to join him. Soon he could barely see Rachel because the entire herd of alpacas had congregated near the fence. Caleb walked over to see what she was giving him.

“Apple slices?”

“Ya. Your mamm is making an apple pie, but she didn’t want to include the skins. It seems like I always did when I baked a pie...” She shook her head back and forth, as if she could rattle the memory free.

Caleb scratched at his jaw. “I didn’t think of giving them scraps.”

“Makes sense, though. Most animals enjoy apple slices. We had a dog once that loved them.”

Her head jerked up and she met Caleb’s gaze, surprise coloring her features.

“You’re remembering more every day.”

“Small inconsequential things. It’s frustrating.”

“Not to my alpacas.”

She smiled at that, and Caleb felt inexplicably better. He didn’t pretend to understand Rachel, but he somehow thought of himself as responsible for her. Perhaps that was normal considering he’d found her in the snow only a few days before.

“Did you get a good deal on the animals?”

“I think so. Less than three thousand dollars for all seven, and there are two females.”

“Hopefully you’ll have baby alpacas running around by spring.”

“That’s the plan.”

“Do you expect they’ll be much work?”

“Not according to Mr. Vann. They mainly eat hay and grass, though some mineral supplements are good, too.”

“So you won’t be spending much money to maintain them.”

“Nein. Also, they don’t bite or butt or spit. I tried raising a llama once, but that didn’t go so well.”

Rachel crossed her arms on the fence and rested her head on top of them, watching the group of alpacas dart away and then flop and roll in a patch of dirt. He’d seen them do that before, but watching Rachel watching them, seeing the smile grow on her face, he realized for the first time what funny animals they were.

“They’re herd animals, so it’s a good thing I was able to buy seven.”

“I think you made a good business decision, Caleb. You’ll know for sure once you shear them, but my guess is that you’ll make a nice return on your investment.”

“Mr. Vann said to watch the top notch. If the hair grows to cover their eyes, I’m supposed to have it cut, which will mean learning to do it myself because I’m not about to pay someone else to do it.”

Rachel covered her mouth to hide a giggle, which Caleb heard nonetheless.

“What’s so funny?”

“Explain that to me,” she said.

“Explain what?”

“You’re so old-fashioned about other things.” She held up a hand when he began to protest. “You admitted it yourself, the first night I was here. The night that you told me about your last girlfriend.”

“She wasn’t right about everything.”

“But you said...what was it? ‘My normal personality is bullheaded and old-fashioned.’”

“Ya. I suppose it’s true.”

“Not exactly unusual among the Amish.”

“Oh, you remember that, do you?”

“So why are you such a risk taker as far as animals?”

“Crops, too,” he admitted. He’d been watching the animals, but now he turned to study Rachel. “I’ll answer your question, but first tell me why you want to know.”

“Curious, I guess. Sort of like your alpacas.”

The horses were grazing in the adjacent pasture. The gelding had wandered close to the fence separating it from the alpacas. The horse was focused on the winter grass, but one of the tan alpacas had zeroed in on the horse. It stuck its nose through the fence, then jumped back, jumped almost vertically. Which caused the other alpacas to trot over, and then they were all gawking at the horse and making a high-pitched noise that sounded like a cat with its tail caught in a door.

“So you’re not asking merely to give me grief?”

“Not at all.” With her fingers, she crossed her heart. “Promise.”

He leaned against the fence, studying the animals but thinking of the woman standing beside him. Rachel was a jumbled mix of paradoxes. One moment she seemed vulnerable, the next fiercely independent, and then sometimes she was quietly curious.

Glancing at her, he realized—not for the first time—what a beautiful woman she was. Probably back in her own community she had a boyfriend who was wondering what had happened to her. The thought made him uncomfortable, as if they should be doing more to return her to her home. But what could they do?

Nothing, so far as he knew, so instead he settled for being honest and answering her question.

“I like the Plain life. I’ve seen my fair share of folks leave our faith—about half of them came back, tails tucked between their legs. The other half? They either never visit their family at all—”

“Is it allowed?”

“Oh, ya. Our bishop encourages families to support one another, even when a member chooses a different path.”

Rachel nodded, as if that made sense.

“These people I’m thinking of, they have a standing invitation to come home and see their loved ones.”

“But they don’t?”

“Most don’t. The ones that do, they seem put out that they have to leave their cell phone in the car.”

“Are you speaking from personal experience?”

“You’re asking if anyone in my family has gone over to the Englisch side?” Caleb ran his hand along the top rail of the metal fence—it was smooth and cold to the touch. “Two cousins, on my mother’s side.”

“So that makes you conservative...as far as people are concerned.”

“I think being Plain means we stand for something. We stand for a different lifestyle. Once we start making compromises, there’s no difference between us and the Englisch—in that case, who wouldn’t leave?”

Rachel was shaking her head, her bonnet strings swaying back and forth, but she smiled and said, “All right. I’ve never heard it expressed that way before, but—”

“You might have. Maybe you don’t remember.”

“Good point. So you’re conservative because you think it’s good for families and believers.”

“Right.”

“But the farming? And animals?”

“In business you want to be conservative—for sure and certain you do.”

“But?”

“It’s exciting to try something new. Ya? Look at those animals. They seem like giant poodles to me. Who figured out that their wool would be a good crop?”

“Caleb, you surprise me.”

“Ya?” He reached forward and brushed some grass off her coat sleeve, no doubt left by one of his alpacas that had been nosing closer for apple peels. “Is that gut or bad?”

“Both. The alpacas will be entertaining.”

They’d returned to flopping down in the dirt.

“Your herd looks like they will produce a variety of coffee colors.”

“Coffee, huh?”

“Something Englischers love—lots of browns and tans and mochas and cappuccinos. Maybe even a cinnamon hue on that far one.”

“Cappuccino?” He could feel the frown forming on his lips. No doubt she loved visiting a coffee shop and wasting her money.

“Plus their fiber is hypoallergenic, which is what makes it very popular.”

“Funny that you know that.”

She simply shrugged.

“I know nothing about shearing, but I can learn.”

“Do you have a local library?”

“Sure.”

“You can search how to do that on their computers.”

He felt something freeze inside of him. This happened every time he began to feel comfortable with Rachel. She said or did something that reminded him she didn’t belong here and probably wouldn’t be staying. He stepped away from the fence, so now they were facing each other, though Rachel was a good head shorter than he was.

“We don’t use the computers.”

“Why?” She cocked her head and looked genuinely puzzled.

“Because we choose not to. We’re Plain...” He couldn’t help emphasizing the last word, though he realized it sounded patronizing.

“Uh-huh. Well, I can tell you’re getting aggravated, so I suppose I should go back inside.”

“We just talked about what it means to be Plain, and then you throw out a comment about using computers.”

“There’s nothing wrong with a computer, Caleb.” She stepped closer, right up into his personal space, and stared up at him.

He took a step back.

“Computers aren’t evil.”

“Never said they were, but they’re not Plain.”

“A computer isn’t going to cause anyone to leave the faith.”

“It could. The things you can see on one...well, it’s like bait to our youngies...”

“Of which you are one.”

He laughed at that. “Turned twenty-five last year.”

“Me, too.”

They both froze, the argument suddenly forgotten.

“Another piece of the puzzle of Rachel,” he said softly.

She glanced at him uncertainly, a range of emotions playing across her face, and then she turned and wandered back into the house, pausing now and again to look back at the alpacas.

* * *

Rachel spent the rest of Friday morning helping Ida, but honestly there wasn’t much to do for a family of three—four if she counted herself. Was she a part of Ida’s family? Was this her home now? When would she remember her past?

And beneath those questions were Caleb’s words, mocking her.

Amish women work hard, too. At least most of them do.

Did he think she liked not being able to remember her own last name or where she was from? Did he think she enjoyed being ill?

“The headaches are better, ya?” Ida was crocheting a gray-and-black winter scarf for Caleb. She only brought it out during the day, not wanting him to see it until Christmas morning.

Rachel was sitting and staring at the crochet needle that Ida had given her. She’d even shown her how to use it, but the rhythm and stitch pattern seemed completely foreign. If she’d crocheted in her other life, she certainly couldn’t remember doing so.

“Some.”

“That’s gut. You’re a little better every day. You could be entirely well by Christmas.”

“Does your community celebrate on December twenty-fifth or on January sixth?”

“Both. The older generation—older than me even, they prefer Old Christmas.”

“Probably includes Caleb.”

“Caleb likes both holidays—mainly because I cook his favorite dishes.”

“I wish I could remember how to use this.” Rachel stared at the crochet needle. “I wish I remembered something useful.”

“That seems to happen when you’re not thinking about it.” She pointed to the journal that contained the list that Rachel had made. The list was pitifully short, in her opinion. She opened the journal and stared down at the first page.

My name is Rachel.

I have a brother.

I know about alpaca wool.

Used to wear sunglasses?

I’m 25 years old.

“Those things could describe a lot of women.”

“And yet they describe you, and Gotte made you special and unique.”

“Now you’re trying to cheer me up.”

“Indeed.” Ida peered at her over the reading glasses she wore while crocheting. The frames were a pretty blue, which probably irked Caleb to no end. A blue dress was out of the question—blue frames couldn’t be far behind.

“Do you know what I think is wrong with you?”

Rachel nearly choked on the water she’d been sipping. She’d known Ida for only less than a week, and yet already she knew the woman had a gentle spirit—one that wasn’t critical.

“What’s wrong with me?”

Now Ida was smiling. “Uh-huh.”

“Tell me, Ida. Because it may just be that my brain is bruised, but I feel all out of sorts.”

“You have cabin fever.”

“Pardon me?”

“Cabin fever. I used to suffer from it something terrible when Caleb was a babe. That was a hard winter, and we were inside—in this very house—too much. Finally, his father came into the kitchen one morning and told me that he had finished all of his work in the barn.”

“A farmer’s work is never done...”

“Exactly. When John came in that morning, he claimed he’d finished the work that had to be done, took the babe from my arms and told me to go to town.”

“And did it help?”

“Immensely. After that, one day a week he’d come in and take care of Caleb for a few hours while I went on little errands.”

“So I need to go on little errands?”

“Wouldn’t hurt.” Ida dropped her crochet work in her lap and pulled a scrap of paper from her apron pocket. “Here’s some things I need from the general store. It’s on the main road. You won’t have any trouble finding it. While you’re out, maybe you can find something whimsical to do.”

“Whimsical?”

“Impulsive. Something you hadn’t planned on. Life on a farm can be awfully predictable. A surprise, even a little one, can brighten the spirit.”

“How am I supposed to get there?”

“John told me he’d bring around the buggy after lunch.”

“What if I don’t remember how to drive a buggy?”

“We won’t know that until you try. If you don’t remember, then I’ll ask Caleb to go with you.”

The rest of the morning sped by and suddenly lunch was over and the buggy and horse were waiting near the front porch.

Maybe it was the thought of a little freedom, or perhaps it was fear that Caleb would be saddled with her for an afternoon when he’d rather be with his alpacas—he’d frowned fiercely when Ida shared their plan during lunch—but whatever the cause, Rachel was determined to drive the buggy herself. She needn’t have worried. As soon as she climbed up into the buggy, something deep inside of her brain took over.

Her hands picked up the reins.

She clucked to the horse.

Her spirit soared, and she pulled away.

Ida had given her an envelope with cash in it and drawn a crude map on the back of the list. The way to the general store was simple and consisted of driving down the lane to the main road, making a right and heading into town. Rachel suspected the map was in case she forgot how to get home, but her confidence had surged as soon as she’d begun driving the buggy. She didn’t think she’d be getting lost.

The dark cloud that had been hovering over her mood lifted by the time she hit the main road. Farms dotted the way into town, and many had Christmas displays in the yards. Englisch homes had lights strung across shrubs and trees. She wondered what they’d look like at night.

Other houses sported giant inflatable yard decorations. There were large white polar bears wearing red neckties, yellow cartoon characters with blue pants and round eyeglasses that she had seen on Englisch coloring books, and even reindeer pulling a sleigh. A few Amish homes had wooden nativities, and their porches were decorated with green cedar wrapped around the porch railing.

As she neared town, she passed a sign that read Welcome to Montgomery, Indiana. The name didn’t ring any bells. But then, she already knew she wasn’t from here.

So how had she happened on the road that led to Caleb’s home?

Where was she from?

In town, the main road was filled with other buggies as well as cars. She saw even more decorations, including festive window displays, city banners wishing everyone “Happy Holidays” and churches reminding people when their Christmas services would be held. It was only December seventh, but it seemed that everyone was getting ready for the holiday early.

She was waiting at a signal light when a car of Englischers pulled up beside her, and a young child waved. She waved back as they pulled away. If it hadn’t been for the child, she wouldn’t have been looking in that direction, but she was...and so she saw the sign that said Montgomery Public Library.

She was in the wrong lane. She had to drive another block before turning, but the entire time she could hear Caleb’s words in her ears.

Amish women work hard, too. At least most of them do.

He might not want to use the Englisch computers to learn about his new alpaca herd, but she was more than willing to look for a job on them. Something told her that if she wanted to move forward, the internet would be the place to start.

Find a job. Earn some money. Remember who she was.

It was a short list, and suddenly Rachel was sure it was one she could conquer.

Chapter Four

Rachel’s library search was not fruitful.

First of all, the library was small—smaller than she had imagined. The room was about the size of Ida’s sitting room. The walls were lined with bookcases that were filled to capacity with books, but there wasn’t exactly a large variety of material and much of it looked quite dated. Worse, there were only two computers. Both were being used when she walked in, so she had to wait. While she did, she perused the bookshelves. There was a single shelf with books labeled Christian Fiction. She thought to check one out, then realized she didn’t have any identification.

The librarian had been watching her—she was an older lady with shoulder-length silver hair and was wearing a bright red sweater that said Ho Ho Ho across the front. She stood about only five feet tall, and Rachel couldn’t help envisioning one of the elves she’d seen as part of a lawn display on her drive into town.

“Problem, dear?”

“Only that I don’t...well, I don’t have any identification. I’m staying with John and Ida Wittmer.”

“You must be the girl Caleb found in the snow.”

“Ya. Unless he found two, and I haven’t met the other one yet.”

“I’m pretty sure it was you—Amish, young, pretty and with freckles.” She walked over to Rachel, patted her on the arm and smiled. “I mean no offense, dear. You’re quite the topic of conversation around our little township—a real Christmas mystery.”

“I never thought of it that way.” Rachel turned back to the books, allowed her fingertips to caress the spines. Had she always liked to read? What were her favorite types of books?

“You can pick out up to three items.”

“But I don’t have an identification card.”

“So you mentioned.”

“I don’t even remember my own last name, and...and I don’t have a home address.”

“For now, your home address is Ida and John’s place, which I know because they both have a card here.”

“They do? I thought Caleb said...”

“I’m well aware of Caleb’s opinion on the matter, but I suspect one day he will marry and perhaps his wife will be able to soften that stubborn spirit.”

Rachel didn’t know how to answer that. From what she’d seen of Caleb Wittmer it would take more than a wife to change his attitudes—it would take divine intervention.

“As far as your last name, we’ll just put Rachel for now. I make up the entire library staff—well, me and one part-time girl who works a few hours in the afternoon. So there’s no one to tell me what I can and can’t do. I’m Mary Agnes Putnam, by the way, but most people just call me Mary Agnes.”

The woman was as good as her word. While Rachel picked out one novel and a slim volume of poems by William Blake, Mary Agnes printed her a library card on an old printer, which sounded as if it was in distress. Rachel looked over a few cooking books, several historical tomes and some children’s titles. As she was walking toward the checkout desk, she spied a pile of books with the word Self-help neatly printed and taped to the wall beside it. She dug through the stack and came up with Crocheting for Dummies. Maybe she’d feel useful if she could at least use Ida’s crochet needle properly.

Mary Agnes checked out her material, and Rachel confessed, “I came in to use the computer.”

“Indeed? We get that a lot around here.”

“Maybe I should come back.” She glanced over at the two old gentlemen who were still at their monitors.

“I’ll take care of those two for you. They’re playing chess—with one another—on the computer!” She leaned forward and lowered her voice. “We have a chessboard on the game shelf, and even a table where they can play, but both Albert and Wayne say they need to learn to travel the information highway. That’s what they call it. So they play chess every day on the monitors. Fancy the things that people do.”

Mary Agnes ran off the two men, who claimed it was time for their lunch, anyway. She showed Rachel how to log on and directed her to Montgomery’s virtual job-search board.

But thirty minutes on the computer only increased Rachel’s frustration. She couldn’t fill in any applications with no last name. She didn’t know what her educational level was. Ida had mentioned that most Amish students attended school through eighth grade. Had she? Who knew? Maybe she’d lived in a district that went to school through twelfth grade like the Englischers. Did any Amish do that? She certainly couldn’t recall her employment history, though if she was twenty-five she must have worked somewhere.

Sighing in frustration, she logged off, picked up her three books and thanked Mary Agnes for her help. She stepped out into a day that felt more like fall than winter. She should go on to the store and pick up the items on Ida’s list, but then she remembered Ida telling her to take her time. What was it she had said?

Do something whimsical.

She couldn’t imagine what that might be, so she walked over to the parking area and checked on the buggy horse, who was contentedly cropping grass.

Whimsical?

There was a park bench in the middle of the grassy area on the north side of the library. No one else was around, so she made her way across the small area and sat down, eventually putting her head back and closing her eyes. The sun felt good on her face, and some of the tension in her shoulders eased—as long as she didn’t think about her predicament.

Instead of worrying, she focused on the word predicament. She could practically see the definition printed on a page. An unpleasantly difficult, perplexing or dangerous situation. Now, why could she remember that and not her own name? She was puzzling over that enormous question when someone cleared his throat.

She opened her eyes to find Bishop Amos standing beside her.

“Oh. I didn’t hear you walk up.” She jumped up, but Amos waved her back onto the bench and sat down beside her.

“This is one of my favorite places in Montgomery.”

“It is?”

“I can see and hear what’s going on, but I’m away from the sidewalk or street. Sometimes I bring birdseed and scatter it out in front of me.”

“The sunshine feels gut.”

“Ya? And how do you feel?”

Rachel could have lied and said she was fine, but something about the way Amos asked the question and waited for an answer told her he was really interested. So she found herself confessing to her frustration at not being able to remember things, her guilt that Ida and John had done so much for her, and her conversation with Caleb over how she needed to get a job.

“He said that, did he? That you should go to work...today?”

“Not in so many words, but it’s what he meant.”

Amos was maybe the oldest bishop that Rachel had ever known. His skin looked like fine tissue paper, and the only hair on his head were wispy strands at the very top. He had giant white bushy eyebrows that wiggled up and down when he smiled, which he did a lot. Rachel had met him only twice, and already she knew that he was that kind of bishop—the kind, fatherly, compassionate type.

“Caleb’s a good boy,” he finally said, folding both hands on top of his walking cane and leaning forward to stare down at the ground.

Rachel glanced down to see what he was looking at and spied a trail of ants marching beneath their feet. Funny how she hadn’t noticed them before.

“Can’t be easy, I imagine.” Amos paused, as if he was waiting for her to agree.

“What can’t be easy?”

“Being an only child in an Amish family. It’s unusual. You’re the odd man out. Might make a person keep to himself. Might make him more stubborn.” Amos glanced sideways at her and the bushy eyebrows arched up and down again.

“Yes, I can understand that. What I don’t understand is why does he have to take it out on me? Why be so insulting? I’m not a lazy person.”

“Of course you’re not.”

“And I’d get a job if I could.”

“Having something to do does add value to our days.”

“But no one will hire me. I was just inside looking on the computers, and I can’t get past the first page of the application. It keeps reminding me to fill in all the boxes, when I don’t know what to put in them. You know things like ‘last name’ and ‘address’ and ‘place of birth.’”

“A computer can be good for some things,” Amos admitted. “I myself like to check the weather on it.”

He straightened up, popping his back in the process, and smiled at Rachel as if he’d answered all of her questions when, in fact, he hadn’t.

“You use the computers?”

“Ya. We’re not so backward here in Montgomery. Personally, I hope the day never comes when I see one in an Amish home, but many things are useful in small doses—automobiles, telephones, computers. They’re useful for certain things and certain times.”

“What do you mean, exactly?”

“Only that in some instances it’s best to do a thing face-to-face.”

“You think I should go knocking on business doors and ask them to hire me? Why would they when I’m a complete stranger to them and have no references?”

“I’ll be your reference.”

“Thank you, Amos, but I don’t think—”

“There’s a quilt shop here in town, owned by a nice Mennonite woman.”

“I can’t remember if I know how to quilt.”

“And there’s Gasthof Amish Village.”

“What is that? I saw a sign for it as I came into town.”

Instead of answering, he said, “I know the owner there as well as the person who manages the auction house.”

“We have an auction house?”

“Yes, I think one of those might be a good answer for your dilemma, Rachel.”

“You mean for Caleb’s dilemma.”

“Oh, you can’t do this because Caleb wants you to—or because you think it will please Ida or John or even me.”

“I suppose I could use the money.”

“More than that, you need to listen to your heart.” Amos tapped his chest. “Your heart is asking something of you, Rachel. Your job is to listen and pray—then and only then should you decide what you will do.”

“And in the meantime?”

“In the meantime, I’ll check around. We’ll talk on Sunday and see if what your heart is saying matches up with any opportunities I’ve found.”

He tapped his walking stick against the ground, bounded off the bench with the energy of a man twenty years younger and settled his hat onto his head. “Gotte be with you, Rachel.”

“And with you.” The words slipped off her tongue, unbidden, remembered.

* * *

Caleb was in the back pasture, mending yet another section of fence that the alpacas had managed to push through.

“Worse than goats?” Gabriel asked.

“Maybe not worse, but as bad...” Caleb wiped the back of his arm across his brow. Sweating in December was probably a bad sign. His mother would say it meant a blue norther was waiting around the corner.

Gabriel moved next to him and held the fence post in place while he twisted the strands of wire. When they’d finished, they sat on top of a stack of small hay squares, watching the alpacas.

“Strange animals,” Gabriel said.

“Indeed.”

“Are they growing on you?”

“I haven’t asked to get my money back yet, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Is that an option?”

“Probably not.”

Gabriel pulled a piece of hay from the bale and stuck it in his mouth. They’d been friends as long as Caleb could remember. Gabriel was the brother Caleb had never had.

“Ida stopped by to see my fraa, told her that Rachel had taken a real liking to the animals. Even named them all.”