Page 2 of The Christmas House
Liz’s mind was going a mile a minute as she considered the news Dat had given her last evening. Adam seemed to be taking the sudden change of plans in stride, however, as King pulled the tour carriage at an unhurried trot this morning.
When she’d asked him earlier if he was acquainted at all with Matt Yoder, Adam had admitted he was not. “But I wouldn’t fret about it, Lizzy. Dat wouldn’t’ve picked him to fill in if he had any concerns.”
Liz figured that, but she also knew she would miss the comfortable back-and-forth she and Adam shared during the tours.
With her brother, she really only had to think about the customers—something she’d been hard-pressed to do this morning, and he wasn’t even gone yet.
How would it be with a new guy at her side?
Adam took over then to talk about the various types of farms found in the community, and it wasn’t long before Ella Mae Zook’s Dawdi Haus came into view.
Liz could just imagine the dear woman either brewing peppermint tea or sitting across the table in her home from a friend in need as they sipped tea together.
That was her calling, she’d often said—listening to folks as they opened their hearts for her guidance or prayer, or both.
Adam slowed King’s trot, and Liz resumed her commentary.
“Accordin’ to the local grapevine, the delightful woman who lives in that addition might be over one hundred years old, but no one knows for sure.
Folks wonder if her family is sworn to secrecy, since none of them has fessed up to the actual number.
And whenever the woman is asked, she simply beams and says that one’s age really ain’t as important as showin’ kindness to one’s neighbor and followin’ the Good Book.
Oh, and drinkin’ at least one cup of peppermint tea with honey daily. ”
There was a round of laughter, and even Adam grinned despite having heard this many times before.
A young teen on board raised her hand. “Does her family live in the larger attached house, then?”
“ Jah , and a short hallway connects her home to her daughter’s family, so she has the freedom to live in her own space. But if she needs help or wants to go next door for a meal or a visit, it’s convenient.”
“We call her the Wise Woman,” Adam added, “partly because of her longevity and life experiences, and partly because she gives godly advice when asked for it.”
“Sounds like you might know firsthand,” an older passenger observed.
“ Puh! Did I just tell on myself?” Adam chuckled, and a couple of the adults on board muffled a laugh.
Curious, Liz glanced at her brother. She’d never known he’d visited Ella Mae. Why would he?
Aunt Hannah’s house appeared at the bend of the road, their final stop of this particular tour.
Adam made the turn into the driveway and halted the horse.
There, waiting on the back stoop, stood Hannah, a short black coat over her long green dress and matching apron, a smile on her rosy cheeks.
Her white Kapp concealed her graying bun, and her brown eyes shone with welcome as she stepped down into the sunlight and approached the carriage with a rectangular tray of treats.
Liz got out of the carriage to tie King to the hitching post while Adam remained in the driver’s seat on the right, where he preferred to be even though he and Liz took turns driving every other tour. Interacting with customers is my favorite , she thought as she headed over to meet Aendi Hannah.
To the customers’ obvious pleasure, they were given a choice of warm chocolate chip cookies or pumpkin cinnamon rolls with caramel frosting, today’s fresh-baked offerings.
Observing her Aendi, Liz thought again of how good it was of her to continue to offer these treats—Liz had had to convince her to do so for a charge, she was that generous.
Her husband , Ammon , was generous , too .
.. always directing barn-raisings and never taking a penny for it .
Liz fondly recalled the expert carpenter who had passed away some time ago.
She knew of many others in the hollow who quietly spread kindness without seeking attention for it.
Her own Mamm would happily drop everything to help stitch up a wedding or anniversary quilt or to make knotted comforters to donate to Christian Aid Ministries for the poor around the world.
Liz respected such big-heartedness and tried to reflect that in her own life, too.
After the final tour of the day, she and Adam rode home past Logan Hyatt’s big spread of land, one of very few farms owned by Englishers in the heart of the hollow.
Logan and his wife, Ashley, had managed to outbid the Amish bishop about fifteen months ago, getting things off on the wrong foot with not just Bishop John Beiler but his newly married nephew, who’d hoped to rent the home from his uncle.
Like other Plain communities, the Hickory Hollow Amish preferred to keep farmland in the family and out of the hands of the English, especially with a farm like this that had been Amish-owned for generations.
Much like their neighbors, Logan and his family kept to themselves, but immediately after moving in, they did something that put them at odds with everyone around them: They installed electricity in the house and the barn, and even put in outdoor sensor lighting.
Then, last November, the Hyatts began to lavishly decorate for Christmas. It was nothing short of shocking, considering that, except for Ella Mae’s simple wreath, not a single house around the hollow was decorated, and certainly not with outdoor lights.
When, in addition to a spotlighted nativity scene with its own angel chorus, there appeared a multitude of decorated trees, a gaggle of dancing elves in the side yard, and a large Santa with a sleigh and reindeer on the roof, the People’s eyebrows rose all the higher.
Some folks got quite ferhoodled , wondering what might next appear.
On the day after Thanksgiving, when the display lit up for the first time, the complaining began in earnest. Some even said the neighboring Amish children were having trouble sleeping, and barn animals were becoming distressed—Liz had heard several wild spins on the matter.
In her own family, the Hyatts’ property had been a subject for discussion around the kitchen table as they decided whether to ignore the massive light display or try to accept it since, as Dat pointed out, they had little hope of influencing their Englisher neighbors to take it down.
Then things became more tense when the English heard about the Christmas House in the midst of Amish farmland and began coming in droves, clogging up the narrow roads, some cars even sliding into snowy ditches, making it unsafe for horse-drawn buggies to pass through the area.
And all for a look-see at Logan Hyatt’s over-the-top display.
Amish up and down the hollow talked about how senseless it was to spend so much money on decorations and electricity, let alone bring bedlam to the formerly peaceful farm community, disrupting their way of life.
Because of the extra traffic, some Amish dairy farmers had a terrible time getting home for the late-afternoon milking, after running errands in town.
Others, primarily Englishers , had a different spin, saying that the Christmas House spread happiness and cheer, building anticipation for the big day.
While Liz was aware of the conflicting opinions about the extravaganza and its accompanying loud music, the tourists who took her buggy rides were obvious fans, and the flashy house brought in good business for her.
Torn between the People’s opinions and knowing how much her customers loved seeing the Christmas House from a horse-drawn buggy, Liz decided not to take a stance.
“Why do ya think the Hyatts picked Hickory Hollow to live and farm?” Adam questioned as they headed toward home.
Liz had wondered about this, too. “It’s a mystery, for sure.”
Once home, Liz headed upstairs to her room and sat on her bed.
She spotted an unfinished navy-blue knit scarf on the chair near the window.
That, along with the already completed matching knit hat, was a potential Christmas gift for someone, although she didn’t know who just yet.
Last year, she’d made two sets like this, one for Dat and the other for Adam.
But for some reason, she had started this one. Was I hoping to meet someone?
Reclining now, she shrugged the thought away, thankful that at least Martha Rose had a beau. Liz’s younger sister was such a good help to Mamm and to Dat, looking after the chickens and gathering eggs in the hen house, selling the excess to the neighbors.
Presently, Liz heard footsteps in the hallway and opened her eyes to see her fair-haired sister holding a letter, undoubtedly from Ben Fisher, Daniel Fisher’s nephew. Ben had been dating Martha for quite a while now.
Liz smiled. “From your beau?”
“He’s getting more serious here lately,” Martha replied, a few strands of hair coming out from beneath her blue bandana. She sat down on the edge of the bed, suddenly looking solemn. “The thing is,” Martha said more quietly, “I feel bad that you aren’t seein’ anyone, Lizzy.”
“Oh, I’ve been fine since Calvin and I split up. Really.” She sat up and reached for her sister’s hand. “Don’t worry ’bout me.”
“You’re sure?”
Liz nodded. “I want nothin’ more than for you to enjoy your courtship with Ben, sister.”
A faint smile appeared, and Martha gave her hand a squeeze before leaving the room to read her letter, causing Liz to wonder if Martha also felt hesitant about seriously courting since she was the younger sister.