When she’d yelled at him, “Go then, just go!” he’d turned away from her, puzzled, and did just that, promising he’d be back in a few weeks. When he didn’t return and instead dated an Englisch girl, she was crushed. That wasn’t the Jesse she knew, the one she’d given her heart to. He’d abandoned her.
For the first two years, memories of him stalked her. She willed them to stop, even begged God to take them away, but they wouldn’t leave her. Finally, as Mamm grew worse, the memories became less vivid. And then when Mamm died, Noelle felt doubly abandoned.
And now, with Jesse’s return, she couldn’t deny that the hollow, unsettled feeling she’d fought for so long to banish was growing stronger again.
As she turned away from the dazzling sunlight reflecting on the snow, she remembered the Advent calendar from Holly and headed to her room. She opened the first little window with a star on it, in the top left-hand corner, popped out the piece of chocolate, and then read Why? John 3:16. She didn’t know a lot of verses by memory, but she knew that one. She didn’t need to look it up in the Bible Mamm and Dat had given her when she’d joined the church. For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son . . .
She slipped the chocolate into her mouth and then let it melt. Literally. A creamy warmth flowed through her. Holly was blessed with good ideas, an amazing talent, and the ability to sell. If only Noelle could say the same about herself.
Over the next three days, she accomplished all of her tasks, while caring for her father too. As she and Moriah packed the cardboard boxes on Wednesday evening, Noelle asked her niece if she’d go with her to the market.
“Nee.” Moriah placed the last apple pie in the box. “I have other plans.”
Noelle bristled but then remembered it was nearing the one-year anniversary of Moriah’s husband’s death. Eugene had been herding cows across the highway when a truck came over the hill. The driver slammed on the brakes but still plowed into him. He’d died instantly.
Perhaps Moriah was thinking about him too because she said, “I feel so bad for Jesse, losing his wife.”
Noelle didn’t respond. She felt badly too, but her emotions still churned. She didn’t trust herself to say anything.
Moriah’s eyes glistened. “When Eugene died, Jesse sent me a sympathy card. He would have been married by then, but he didn’t say anything about that, just how sorry he was for my loss.”
That sounded like Jesse—at least the man she once knew.
Moriah brushed at her eyes. “Did I tell you I found out when his wife died?”
Noelle shook her head as her chest tightened. Jesse had been married. They had a baby. His wife had died. She could hardly comprehend it all.
“Right after giving birth.”
Noelle gasped.
Moriah nodded. “Isn’t that awful? Jesse lost his wife and became a single dad all in one day.”
Noelle struggled to catch her breath.
“You’re not still mad at him, are you? Not after everything he’s gone through.”
Forgive and forget was what Noelle had been taught her entire life. But, despite the pain he’d gone through, she hadn’t forgotten what Jesse had done to her. And what was even more surprising was that he, because his mother had left him, had asked her several times if she was serious about her love for him, trying to confirm she would never leave him, never reject him.
Then he’d left her. And rejected her too.
Before she could figure out how to answer Moriah’s question about being mad at Jesse without revealing her own pain, the front door swung open and Salome stepped into the living room. She peeled off her bonnet and shook the snow from it, revealing her gray hair under her Kapp. She called out a hello to Dat as she slipped off her coat.
She waved at Noelle and Moriah. Then she marched, her hips swaying, over to Dat’s side. “My chiropractor said it would do my back good to walk a little, so I decided to come over and see you.”
He smiled up at her, his faded hazel eyes heavy. He’d been twenty-nine when Salome had been born and fifty-five when Noelle came along. Now, at seventy-seven, he was all tuckered out after a lifetime of farming. Of course, grief had worn him down too. He’d been lost since Mamm had her stroke and even more so since she’d died.“Sis,” Dat said. Salome was the only one he called that. Probably because she was the oldest. “How are plans coming for our Family Christmas?”
Noelle turned toward the living room, not wanting to miss a single word.
“Do you think you feel up to it?” Salome asked. “Wouldn’t you rather have a quiet Christmas with just us?”
“Why?” Concern filled Dat’s voice. “Do the other girls not want to gather together?”
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Salome said. “I just thought it might be too much for you.”
Noelle glanced at Moriah, but her niece just shrugged. What was Salome up to? First her reason was that her back was bad, but now she was insinuating Dat wasn’t up to Family Christmas.
“Besides,” Salome said, “maybe it’s time for each family to start doing their own thing. Of course, you’ll come to my house for Christmas, so there’s no need to worry about that.”
Noelle bristled. Where would she go?
“No,” Dat said. “We do not want to stop having Family Christmas. Especially not this year.”
“Well, we may have to.” Salome’s voice grew louder, as if Dat might not be hearing her clearly. “We don’t have a place big enough anymore.”
“The shed,” Dat responded.
“But it’s so cold. And, honestly, we’ve grown by twenty or so between marriages and new babies this year. There are over a hundred of us now. We’d be crowded in there.”
Noelle knew that was false. They held church in the shed once a year. And they’d had last year’s Family Christmas
