Amish Christmas Memories

“We’ll need to take those in, of course. You’re shorter and smaller than Rebekah’s girls.”

“Won’t they need these?”

“Not likely, both have put on a good bit of weight since marrying, and that was before they were expecting her first grandchildren. No, I don’t think they’ll be needing them back.”

There were underclothes, kapps, two outdoor bonnets and a coat. All except the underclothes were used, but in good condition. Someone had brought a Bible and a journal for writing in. She thought those might come in handy. Dr. Gold had mentioned that writing a little every day might help her memories return. There was also a new scarf and gloves, knitted in a dark gray that had a touch of shimmer to it. “This is beautiful work.”

“Melinda can do wonders with a knitting needle. I’ve always been more of a crochet person myself.”

Rachel stood up, went to the room she was staying in and returned with the blue scarf she’d apparently been wearing when Caleb had found her. No coat, but a scarf—strange indeed. “I think—I think I might be a knitter.”

“That’s why you knew about the alpaca yarn.”

“Maybe. I think so. I know this is called a stockinette pattern—you alternate rows of knitting with rows of purling.” She closed her eyes, could almost see herself adjusting the tension in her yarn, squinting at a pattern, knitting needles flying. She could be imagining, or she could be remembering. There was no way to know.

“Are you remembering anything else?”

“Only that this—” She ran her fingers over the scarf, then draped it around her neck. “It seems very familiar.”

“That’s a beginning.”

“If only I could remember more, but when I try, the headaches return.”

Ida walked over to the bookcase and brought back the packet of information from the doctor at the hospital. Rachel had already rifled through it twice. There were instructions, what to expect, warning signs, as well as two cards—one for her next appointment with Dr. Gold and another card with the name and contact information for a Dr. Michie. She’d spoken with the doctor a few minutes before leaving the hospital. She was a counselor of some sort and had told Rachel to call her if she’d like to make an appointment.

Ida sat beside Rachel on the couch and they both stared down at the top page.

Ida read aloud from the sheet. “‘Symptoms of a concussion include brief loss of consciousness.’”

“Check.”

“‘Memory problems.’”

“We all know I have that.”

“‘Confusion.’”

Rachel leaned forward, propped her elbows on her knees and pressed her fingertips to her forehead. “Sometimes, when I can’t remember how I know something, I feel terribly confused.”

Ida nodded and continued with the list. “‘Drowsiness or feeling sluggish.’”

“Twice this morning I went back and laid down on the bed for a few minutes.”

“Only because I insisted. You need to recognize when things are overwhelming you. It’s important for a woman to learn to take care of herself. You’re no use to your family—”

“I don’t have one.”

“Or anyone else if you allow yourself to become ill or exhausted.”

Rachel heard the concern in Ida’s voice, but she couldn’t bring herself to meet her gaze. “I’m batting a thousand, as my bruder would say...”

She slapped her hand over her mouth.

Ida reached over and clutched her hand. “That’s gut, Rachel. You’re starting to remember. That’s a gut sign.”

“I suppose.”

“Can you remember his name?”

“Nein.”

“Older or younger?”

She closed her eyes and tried to picture her family, tried to recall anything from her past, but to no avail.

Her heart was racing and her mind was spinning off in a dozen directions, but she couldn’t quite grasp even one solid piece of information about her former life—other than she had a brother. Was he worried? Was he looking for her?

Finally, she motioned for Ida to continue with the list of symptoms. They knew she had a concussion, the doctor had confirmed as much, but it helped to know that the things she was feeling and experiencing weren’t unusual.

“‘Dizziness or blurred vision.’”

“A little yesterday, when I first woke up in the hospital.”

“‘Headache.’”

“Ya, especially when I try to remember.”

“‘Nausea or vomiting.’”

“Not since I started eating.”

“‘Sensitivity to light.’”

“That’s on there?” She scooted closer and peered at the sheet. “I tried going outside for a few moments earlier, but the sunshine felt like a pitchfork in my brain. I found myself wishing I had my sunglasses.”

“Another puzzle piece. You have a bruder and you wore sunglasses.”

“Doesn’t everyone?”

“Perhaps.” Ida tapped the last item on the list. “What about balance problems? Any trouble there?”

“I’m not sure. Let’s check.” Rachel jumped up and pretended to walk a straight line, holding her hands out to the side. She pivoted and started back toward Ida, touching her nose with first her right and then left index finger as she walked. Ida began to laugh, and then Rachel began to laugh, and soon they were giggling like schoolgirls.

And, of course, that was the moment that Caleb walked inside, a frown pulling down the corners of his mouth. Why did he always seem to be disapproving of her? She pitied the woman that did decide to marry him or even date him. Caleb Wittmer might be a good man, but he wasn’t much fun to be around, and life should include some fun. Shouldn’t it?

“We’re about to head over to see the alpacas.”

“Oh, well, I hope it goes well, dear.”

“Actually I was wondering...”

“About?”

“Lunch.”

Ida started laughing again, and then she spread her arms to encompass the pile of goods their neighbors had brought. “We’ve been pretty busy in here.”

“I see that.”

“Our neighbors brought all of these things for Rachel.”

“Wunderbaar.”

“Honestly I forgot about making lunch, but I’ll throw some sandwiches together.”

Caleb nodded as if that made sense. His mother brushed past him, humming as she went into the kitchen.

“Let me guess.” Rachel couldn’t have stopped the smile spreading across her face if she’d tried, which she didn’t. “You’re not used to eating sandwiches.”

“Actually I can’t remember the last time Mamm didn’t have lunch waiting on the table.”

Rachel attempted to make sympathetic noises, but it probably came out like she’d managed to choke on something. She knew she should keep her mouth shut. Instead she said, “Men can make a sandwich, too, Caleb. Maybe you should give your mamm a little bit of a break here. Having me around? It’s a lot of extra work.”

He narrowed his eyes and pulled in a deep breath.

Rachel immediately regretted baiting him.

“Your community has been very nice. They even brought me some appropriate clothing.” Oops. She’d done it again.

Instead of aggravating Caleb, he seemed to relax. Perhaps poking at one another felt like safe ground to him. “That is a gut thing. I see you even have several kapps and bonnets there.”

He picked one up. Unfortunately, it happened to be on top of the pile of underclothes. When he glanced down and saw the stack of underthings, he dropped the bonnet, turned a bright shade of red and then pivoted and fled from the room.

Rachel grabbed a pillow and buried her face in it so that he couldn’t hear her laughter. Which felt so much better than worrying about what Caleb thought of her—that question was behind the laughter. She didn’t want to think about that, though, or about why it mattered.

She needed to remember who she was. Borrowed clothes, a guest room in someone else’s house and Caleb looking over her shoulder to see if she was following the rules were not how she wanted to live the rest of her life.

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.