He donned his hat and coat and let himself out. Mamm stood facing the closed door for what seemed like a full minute. Then she turned to Tillie. The look on her face was enough. Tears welled in Tillie’s eyes and seeped down her cheeks. These mistakes that were not mistakes at all—how did one go about correcting them?
A sob escaped her as Mamm wrapped her arms around her, and Tillie cried.
* * *
“Mims, really,” Levi started. He looked at the three huge stockpots on the stove. “I’m not going to be able to eat all this food in the next month, much less between now and Christmas.”
“The weather is turning bad, probably as early as tomorrow,” Mims said. She stirred the last one, tapped the wooden spoon against the rim, and laid it across the top of the pot.
Levi sucked in a breath to protest further, then let it out in a sigh. When Mims got like this, there was no changing her mind.
“Maybe if you found yourself a husband you wouldn’t feel so obligated to take care of me.”
She whirled on him, propped her hands on her hips, and shot him a withering stare. “Married or not I would still need to take care of you, dear brother.”
He had hoped to get more of a rise out of her. It was better by far than thinking about Christmas and all that he had lost.
“And this should be just enough food to get you through to Christmas.” Mims wasn’t taking into account the packages of food still sitting in his icebox. He had to admit to himself, if not to her, that he enjoyed the company. And he wasn’t admitting that it would mean that he wanted company all the time. But sometimes he didn’t want to be all alone. It was weird. When he was alone, he wished someone were there. When someone was there, he wished he were alone. He supposed that was unhappiness at its finest.
“And you need to eat it,” she said with another stern look. “Your clothes are hanging off you. It’s much easier to make food than it is new clothing.”
He found no need to tell her that he just wasn’t hungry these days. Everyone said that was simply grief and it would change. But he knew that it wouldn’t until after he got past Christmas.
There had been a time when Christmas had been his favorite holiday. He loved everything about it: families coming together, good food, exchanging presents, preparing for a new year. To him Christmas was like the turning point of winter. After Christmas he started looking forward to a new planting season. In the spring, people tended to their horses to get ready for the new season. They needed new leather goods. It was almost like starting over, and it all stemmed from Christmas. Or at least in his mind it did.
“I do like your decorations though.” Mims nodded toward the cedar boughs lying on the mantel. “I love the smell of cedar. Christmassy.” She smiled at him as if encouraging him to agree with her.
How could he refuse? “Christmassy,” he agreed. Mary had always decorated with pine boughs, so at least that part was different. At least that part wasn’t so nostalgic for him.
“Do I see some mistletoe in there?” Mims asked.
“Jah,” he said.
Tillie and Eunice had found a few sprigs of real mistletoe and holly with red berries and placed it throughout the fragrant cedar.
“Don’t you go off kissing anyone,” Mims said with a laugh.
Levi couldn’t help it; he chuckled, though the sound was rusty and unused.
“There’s my brother.” Mims turned away, but not before he saw the sheen of tears in her eyes.
He was worrying his family, and he was sorry for it, but he was struggling. Surely they understood that. “Just give me time, Mims.”
“I worry,” she said.
He nodded. “I know.”
She started back toward the kitchen—to stir the pots once again, he was certain, even though it hadn’t been very long that they had been unattended. “Don’t do anything . . . stupid.”
“I won’t.”
She didn’t say what she really meant. She was worried he would hurt himself. Had he been that depressed, that his family would worry so about him? The idea was unthinkable. Jah, he missed Mary. He missed his baby. Or maybe the idea of his baby and the family that would never be. But he wasn’t so far gone that he would forget everything that he had been taught his whole life.
And it was just so much harder at Christmastime.
He and Mary had talked about what would happen if she had the baby early, maybe even on Christmas Day. Their child would share a birthday with Jesus. And Christmas reminded him of the family of Bethlehem, which reminded him of the family he would never have.
Suddenly Tillie Gingerich’s face popped into his thoughts. He hadn’t heard anyone say with any great conviction what was to become of her and the child she carried. It had ripped his heart out every time he saw her at the wedding, then he realized he was just being selfish. Tillie could no more help her circumstance than he could help his own. They were all at the mercy of God’s will.
While Mims stirred the pots on the stove, Levi made his way into the living room. He sat down in the rocking chair and stared at the mantel that Tillie had decorated with her mamm just a few days before. He appreciated the effort. He appreciated the sentiment. Even though he didn’t feel much like celebrating. He supposed Tillie probably didn’t either. She had been the talk of the after-church meal; she’d been the talk of the wedding two days later. He was certain she was the talk of every quilting circle and Christmas party that was happening this week. Every get together, every cousins’ day. Every casual meeting over pie. He supposed
