“Ach.” Noelle hurried to Dat’s side. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
Dat nodded.
“All right.” Noelle wasn’t so sure, but she’d do it for Dat. “I’ll go harness the horse.”
“I think I can walk,” he said. “I have to go nearly that far to get to the phone shed.”
“I can make the calls,” Noelle said.
He shook his head. “I’d rather.”
After they’d bundled up, they started out into the night. Noelle shone a flashlight with one hand and hung on to Dat with the other. Thankfully it hadn’t snowed any more that day, so the path was clear.
Dat talked about his day with LuAnne and her brood. “I am a little sad you are done with the market,” he said. “It has been good to spend time with the little ones.”
They stopped at the phone shanty so Dat could catch his breath. He literally leaned against it. “We could go ahead and make the calls,” Noelle said. “And then I can go over to Salome’s and tell her.”
“Nee.” Dat’s voice shook a little. “We need to keep going.”
They stopped one more time, at the gate to Paul and LuAnne’s backyard. While she waited for Dat, Noelle turned her attention toward the house. LuAnne stood at the kitchen window as Paul came up behind her. He wrapped his arms around her growing middle and nuzzled her neck. LuAnne leaned back against him.
Noelle quickly glanced away, but the image stayed with her—as did both the longing and the ache in her heart.
When they reached the Dawdi Haus, Noelle knocked while Dat struggled to catch his breath. “Dat,” she whispered, “are you all right?”
He nodded but couldn’t speak and still couldn’t when Salome opened the door. “Dat,” she said, “is everything all right?”
He nodded.
“What’s the matter?”
“He needs to talk with you is all.” Noelle tightened her grip on Dat’s arm. The truth was, she needed to speak with her sister too. “May we come in?”
Salome, wearing a thick sweater over her dress and apron, swung the door open, and Dat toddled in, with Noelle holding firmly to him. Moriah sat curled up on the sofa in her robe with a scarf on her head, reading The Budget Newspaper. She looked as if she’d been crying.
“Are you all right?” Noelle asked. Clearly her talking the other day hadn’t cured her of her grief, but of course it would take more time.
Her niece nodded, put the newspaper down, and scurried off the couch and toward the hall.
“Is she ill?” Dat asked.
In a chilly voice, Salome said, “You could say that.” Then she asked Dat for his coat.
He shook his head but then sat down on the sofa. “We can’t stay long. I just need to give you an update.”
“On?”
“Family Christmas.”
“Oh, that. We’re not having it this year.”
“No, we are,” Dat said. “Noelle found a place. The dining hall at the market.”
Salome crossed her arms. “What an odd place to meet.”
“I think it is perfect,” Dat said. Noelle guessed it had been years since he’d been there, and it looked totally different now, but she appreciated his support.
“I’m going to call the other girls,” he said. “And tell them.”
“I still don’t think it’s a good idea.”
Dat glanced from Noelle to Salome. “I was going to wait to tell you this, but my health isn’t well. This could be my last Christmas—”
Salome waved her hand toward him. “I know you’ve grown weaker, but are you serious about your health being bad?”
“Jah,” Dat answered. “The doctor said my heart is failing.”
Salome wrinkled her brow. “I’m sorry to hear that.” Concern washed over her face. “But maybe everyone should visit you in small groups over Christmas.” She nodded toward the hall. “Moriah is having a hard time with it being a year since Eugene died and all.” Salome continued, her voice still low. “It’s a hard anniversary. We’ve been really worried about her.”
“Mamm!” Moriah appeared in the doorway to the hall, sounding more like herself than she had in over a year. “Stop trying to protect me. Jah, I’m going through a rough time, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want all of us to get together. That doesn’t make any sense.”
“But you don’t want to be around all those couples. And babies. You told me it was hard for you.”
“Jah, it’s difficult. But it’s harder not to be.”
Salome bit her lower lip and then asked, “What do you mean?”
“You don’t listen to me. You guessed at what I meant and then jumped to a decision.”
Noelle couldn’t help but think that Salome had done the same thing to her all those years ago. But at the same time she could see that Salome was trying to protect Moriah. Had she been trying to protect Noelle in some way too?
Moriah continued. “If you’d asked me about whether or not to have the Family Christmas, I would have said I wanted it.” She crossed her arms, in exactly the same stance as her mother. “I thought you didn’t want it because of your back and how much work it is.”
“Well, my back is still sore, but you’ve been so sad, so—”
“Depressed?”
Salome nodded.
“Well,” Moriah said, “I’ll be a lot more depressed on Christmas Day sitting around here than being with our family.”
Our.
Family.
The two words rang like the Christmas Market bells in Noelle’s head.
“We need to all be together,” Noelle said to Salome, thinking of Family Christmas a year ago, right after Eugene died. Moriah was surrounded with care and love. “We need to be together because we need each other.”
And in a family, it was important to speak the truth. It was time for Noelle to stand up to Salome about something that really mattered. She cleared her throat. “But like Moriah, I need you not to make assumptions about me and not to speak about me to others.”
Salome’s expression hardened. “What are you talking about?”
“Jesse. Word got back to Montana that I wanted nothing
