An amish christmas bless.., p.2
An Amish Christmas Blessing, page 2
Tommy glared at Jürgen and then at Abigail. “You gonna let him tell us we can’t sleep together?”
Abigail shrugged. “It seems like we don’t have a choice.”
“There’s a cot with blankets in the bunk room at the end of the barn. Toilet, sink, shower, everything you’ll need.”
“What about food?”
“I said I’d feed you, didn’t I? Soup’s on the menu. I eat at five o’clock sharp in the kitchen. And I mean sharp.”
At 5:15, Tommy Martin strolled into the kitchen. There were no pots on the stove, and Jürgen and Abigail were finishing a bowl of soup.
“Hey, sorry I’m late. I fell asleep in the car. Where’s the soup?”
Jürgen looked up. “I said sharp. The soup’s put away. Come back for breakfast. 5:30 a.m.”
Tommy looked at the old man, his mouth open. “As in 5:30 in the morning?”
“Any other 5:30 a.m.?”
“But I’m hungry now. Gimme some of that bread.” He reached for the loaf of shepherd’s bread on a cutting board by Jürgen. Suddenly, a steel grip immobilized his arm.
Jürgen rose and took Tommy by the coat front. “Look, kid, I don’t like you. I don’t like people who go into another man’s house without so much as a ‘by-your-leave’ and try to take things. Now when I say you can stay and work, I’m only doin’ it because your girlfriend was upset, and she seems like a nice young lady. But you? You kinda put me off my feed. So, if you want to make some traveling money, you’ll follow my rules. If you do that, I’ll feed you and give you a place to sleep for the next three days. Then you can be on your merry way. Is that understood? Just nod.”
Tommy nodded.
“That means breakfast is at 5:30. Folks who show at 5:31 don’t eat. Understood? Just nod.”
Tommy nodded again.
“Good, we understand each other. So now, since I don’t have a TV, there’s nothing more for you here. If I was you, I’d go bed down and get some shut-eye. 4:30 comes awfully early in the San Luis Valley.”
“4:30? But I thought you said 5:30?”
“Well, you better get up at 4:30 so you can make yourself presentable before you show up on time at my table by 5:30. Presentable as in showered and shaved. Understood? Just nod.”
Tommy nodded.
Jürgen released him. “Good night, Mr. Tommy.”
Tommy turned and walked through the door, glaring at Abigail as he left.
Abigail, who sat silently through the exchange with Tommy, watched him go and then spoke up. “Really, Mr. Hirschberg, Tommy is a nice guy when you get to know him. Why he’s very intelligent and knows all kinds of things.”
Jürgen smiled. “He may be intelligent, but he’s not very smart. And you say he knows all kinds of things. But he’s kinda sparse on the basics. You know, things like showing up on time, looking like he cares about the way he looks, being respectful to his elders, honoring you as a woman, and not trying to push someone around who’s doing him a favor.”
“But he has a degree from Cal Poly. In Political Science.”
“Got him a good job, did it?”
“Well, he’s very busy with writing, and speaking at different meetings.”
“Does he get paid?”
“Well, no, but he has a higher calling. He wants to educate the masses, show them how to better themselves, break the yoke of tyranny the elite class shoved down our throats for the last two hundred years.”
Jürgen laughed out loud. “Break the yoke of tyranny. Why, he sounds like a dang Bolshevik. And let me tell you something. That boy couldn’t show anybody how to break a pencil with both hands.” He laughed again. “Come on, girl. I’ll show you to your room.”
Chapter Two
Abandoned
Abigail came down to breakfast at 5:20 a.m. The smell of bacon filled the kitchen. There was a plate of hotcakes on the table and some eggs cooking in a pan on the stove. Jürgen was tending them, dressed and ready for the day. “Came a little early to make sure your boyfriend made it to breakfast?”
Abigail blushed. “Well, I…”
“He ain’t gonna make it.”
“What do you mean?”
“He left in the night, soon as you went to bed. Pushed the car around to the other side of the barn so you wouldn’t hear it start up and took off.”
“What!” Abigail ran out the back door and into the barnyard. Jürgen was right. The car was gone. A horrible sinking feeling filled her. Then she felt a hand on her shoulder. It was Jürgen.
“Come on back and have some breakfast. You’ll feel better… and then we’ll talk.”
Abigail went back inside with the old man. She didn’t think she could eat, but surprisingly, the smell of the bacon and the sight of the pancakes and eggs overwhelmed her upset, and she soon was eating heartily.
Jürgen smiled at the empty plate. “Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.”
“What?”
“It’s just something Jesus used to say. It means, don’t worry about tomorrow since today is bad enough. Like some coffee?”
“Oh, please!”
Jürgen poured her a cup and offered her cream. She nodded yes, noticing that he took his black. Jürgen motioned toward the doorway into the front room. “Come on, let’s sit in the living room. I want to talk to you for a minute.”
They went to the living room. A roaring blaze in the fireplace felt wonderful to Abigail. Jürgen pointed her to the couch and then sat in a chair across from her.
“What will you do?”
Abigail put her coffee down on an end table, sat for a moment, and then put her face in her hands. She whispered. “I don’t know, Mr. Hirschberg, I don’t know.”
“Caught between a rock and a hard place, ain’t ya?”
Sniffles. “Apparently.”
“Didn’t you know he would bail on you if push came to shove?”
“He told me he loved me. That we would change the world together.”
“But he got you into his bed without marrying you and left when the horse dung hit the fan. You been suckered, gal.”
“Seems so, doesn’t it?”
“Got no relatives to go to?”
“My mom died three years ago in a car accident. My dad left me with his parents and went to Venezuela to work in the oil fields. An explosion on an oil derrick killed him, too. As you know, Grandmother Adina died several years ago, right after her husband, Grandpa Thompson, died.”
“Yeah, I heard.” Jürgen paused, then went on. “What about your dad’s parents?”
“After Dad died, I moved in with Tommy. We had a room in his mother’s house. Then, Grandpa Harris had a stroke, and Grandma couldn’t take care of him, so they sold their house and moved him into assisted living. She lives there with him, so there is no place to go back to.”
“Stuck with Mr. Tommy, eh?”
Abigail nodded.
“Lived off his mom, didn’t have a job, while you waited tables or something?”
“I worked at a bookstore. How did you know?”
“Men like Mr. Tommy are easy to read. I been in the horse business all my life. Horse traders are a microcosm of all humanity. My papa taught me human nature, how to read people. It’s essential if you don’t want to get cheated. You see, men fall into two categories. They either tell the truth or they’re four-flushers.”
“What’s that?”
“A low-down dirty dog, a cheat, a fraud, someone who tries to bluff other people. I knew right away Mr. Tommy was a con man.”
“But how?”
“Well, for one thing, he thought he was the smartest guy in the room. He tried to bluff me, but he was a coward. He backed off and let you do the talking. A real man would have protected you and presented your case, but he let you present his. He was also disrespectful. He showed up late for dinner and then thought I owed him something to eat. I could see right away that he was the most important person in his life, not you. Only took him three hours to prove it. Did he have a credit card?”
“Maybe, but he never told me.”
“A guy like him always has a backup plan. He probably stole it from his mother when you left. He’s been living off the money you had in your savings, right? Letting you spend your money?”
Abigail nodded.
“He’ll use the card to get to New York before his mother can cancel it. Before she does, he’ll draw some cash. Then he’ll buy a bunch of food for the trip. And wine… he’s a wine man, right?”
Abigail looked at Jürgen. “How do you know all this stuff?”
Jürgen chuckled. “A man my age has been around the corral a few times. Reading people like Mr. Tommy comes with the territory.”
Abigail sighed. “I guess I was pretty foolish.”
Jürgen nodded. “I’d say so. But that doesn’t mean there ain’t a remedy.”
“What do you mean, Mr. Hirschberg?”
“Well, I kinda like you, and since we are kin, I got a proposition. I thought about it some last night, prayed about it, and I reckon I got my answer.”
“What do you mean, Mr. Hirschberg?”
“Well, my offer to work still stands. If you want to do chores around here for room and board, I’ll let you do that. ‘Course I won’t work you as hard as my hired hand, but it’ll be ranch work for sure. And I have some friends in town who own a restaurant. We could see about getting you a paying job. If we do, there’s a bus runs by here every morning and every night that would take you into town and bring you back. How does that sound?”
Abigail looked at Jürgen. Despite his gruff demeanor, his eyes were kind.
“I don’t know how to thank you.”
“Well, all right then. Now if you look in the closet in the room I put you in, you will find some jeans and a warm shirt. They were Adina’s when she was very young, and they ought to fit you. Then I’ll show you around the place and we’ll get to work.”
Abigail gave herself a quick glance in the mirror. The shirt and pants fit her almost perfectly.
I look almost like a Western girl.
She glanced down at her manicured hands.
And I suppose my fingernails will look Western soon enough…
She sighed and started to go out, and then she realized something. She didn’t miss Tommy. In fact, she felt like a load had gone off her shoulders.
That’s odd. I thought I loved him.
Another thought.
How did I let him sweet-talk me into going with him?
She saw a stretchable hair band on the dresser, so she pulled her hair back into a ponytail and wrapped the band around it. Then she headed for the stairs. Jürgen was waiting by the kitchen door. He handed her a pair of gloves.
“There’s some of my mom’s old muck boots out on the mud porch. They should fit.”
They headed out to the barn. Jürgen gave her the mucking tools, gave her a few instructions, and then headed off to see about some horses in a back pasture. Abigail looked at the mess in the first stall, sighed and then started in. After about half an hour of scooping and shoveling, she had made little progress in her first stall, and her back was hurting.
“There’s a better way to do that.”
Abigail jumped and whirled around. A tall, good-looking young man in overalls and a flat hat stood by the door smiling at her.
“Oh, my goodness, you scared me silly.”
The young man smiled. “Sorry about that. Didn’t mean to sneak up on you.”
“I thought my heart would stop. That was mean.”
“Well, I saw you going at that stall and I thought maybe you’d like some help.”
Abigail lifted her nose and sniffed. “I’m doing just fine.”
The young man smiled again. “Not really.”
Abigail felt her hackles rise. “Say, what makes you the expert?”
“Don’t get your dander up. I’m Johan Eicher. I work for Mr. Hirschberg. I’ve mucked out ten thousand stalls if I’ve mucked out one. If you’re willing to accept some help…”
Something about this young man got under Abigail’s skin. “You must have some other work to do.” She turned back to the unmanageable mess in the stall... and had an epiphany. She turned around just as Johan was going out the door.
“Wait. I’m sorry. I… I guess I need some help.”
Johan stuck his head back in the door, a smile on his face. “You sure? Don’t want to spoil your fun.”
Abigail dropped her head. “I’m willing to take a few pointers, if you would be so kind.”
Johan walked back into the barn. He picked up the shovel. “Okay. First, pick out the large, obvious big manure piles and wet spots.” He scooped the worst heaps of manure efficiently into the wheelbarrow. “Starting at the door, move around the stall in a circle. Sort the bedding as you go. Toss what’s clean enough to keep along the walls or into corners. Pile the soiled stuff in the center.” He showed how to do it. “Now grab the fork. Make a circuit or two, doing the same thing, then scoop out the soiled bedding in the pile you’ve made in just a few forkfuls. Put it in the wheelbarrow.” Again, Johan demonstrated. His movements were smooth, nothing wasted, his brow knit in concentration. “Pull the reserved bedding that you put along the walls into the center of the stall.” He walked along the walls, forking the usable bedding into a layer in the center of the stall. “If what’s there is too thin, you can add a layer of new clean. It’s right over there in a pile.” He walked over, got a forkful of straw, and added it to the layer on the floor of the stall. “And that’s it. Doing it that way will save you about twenty-five minutes a stall. It adds up.”
Abigail looked at the stall in amazement. In about twenty minutes, Johan had turned the stall from a mess into a comfortable place for a horse to sleep.
Abigail realized she had been a little snarky. She looked up at Johan. “Thank you. That is extremely helpful.” She lowered her eyes, felt the blush steal up her face. “I’m sorry I was a little short with you.” She looked up at him.
Johan smiled, and Abigail noticed that even though he and Tommy were about the same age, Johan’s smile was manly and grown up, not the silly, vacuous grin that Tommy often wore, especially when he was drinking. She stuffed her thoughts back and asked a question.
“That’s not a Western hat, is it?”
Johan shook his head. “No, it’s an Amish hat. I’m Amish. I live over in Monte Vista. There’s an Amish community there.”
“I don’t know much about the Amish.”
Johan smiled again. “Ask Jürgen. He’s Amish too… in his own way. Well, I've got my work.” He turned to go.
“Thank you again, Johan. It was very kind of you.”
Johan touched his hat brim. “Glad to help.”
Abigail watched him go.
A different guy than Tommy, that’s for sure.
Chapter Three
Heritage
Around noon, Jürgen came to the barn. He looked at Abigail’s clean stalls and nodded. Following Johan’s instructions, she had worked her way through five of them. She had not done it as quickly as Johan, but his method was certainly an improvement on the way she had been approaching the task.
“Good job, Abigail. You took to this like a duck to water.”
She shook her head. “Well, I had a little help.”
“Ah, did Johan come by and show you his way?”
“Yes, and it really helped. I must admit, I was struggling.”
“Well, he’s a good lad.”
“He’s Amish?”
Jürgen nodded. “Yep, but for that matter, so am I… well, in my own way, I guess.” He grinned.
“That’s what Johan said. How do you mean, Mr. Hirschberg?”
“Well, my papa was Amish and his papa before him all the way back to the 1700s in Switzerland. My dad kinda didn’t see eye-to-eye with the Amish though. Happened when he still lived in Germany and the Nazis hornswoggled the Amish in Germany into believing they were Aryan supermen because they were good farmers. They told them they were essential to the well-being of the Third Reich, so they went along with Hitler and his claptrap. Didn’t sit well with my papa. But when he and my mother moved here from Germany, they got to know the Amish folks who live down the road in Monte Vista. He got along with them better. He brought his mother, his mütti, with him, and she fit right in. They all sat around yakkin’ in High German. I like the Amish pretty good too, but I’m not a joiner.”
“Does that make me Amish?”
“Well, now, I think you have to be raised under the ordnüng, the Amish rules for living, and get baptized into the church to be Amish. But I reckon you could convert. Anyway, it’s in your bloodline for sure. And that’s not all. You’re also Jewish by descent.”
“Jewish!”
“Sure. My mama was one hundred percent Jewish. The Jews trace their bloodlines through the mother. If your mother is Jewish, you are Jewish. So, me and Adina were Jewish by matrilineal descent, and the Jews considered your mother, Yvette, Jewish too, because Adina schooled her in the Jewish way that Emily, our mother, taught her. At least, that’s what I heard. I got the same schooling, so the Jews around here accept me as one of their own. Now, those Jews might not consider you Jewish unless you was raised that way, but you sure got Jewish blood.”
“So… I’m Amish and Jewish and I never knew a thing about it.” Abigail’s brow furrowed. “I’ll have to think about that.” She picked up her shovel. “Well, I guess I’ll get back to my mucking.”
Jürgen smiled. “Thought you might want a little lunch first. There’s some sandwiches and soup.”
“Oh, that would be wonderful. I guess I could use a break. Will… will Johan be there?”
“Sure. The hands eat with us on the ranch. Well, I must wash up. I’ll see you up to the house.”
When Abigail came into the kitchen, she was surprised to see a middle-aged woman making sandwiches at the kitchen counter. The woman wore a long, dark blue dress and a white cap set on the bun at the back of her head. The woman looked up and smiled. “Guten tag!” She noticed the puzzled look on Abigail’s face. “That means good afternoon. You must be Abigail. Jürgen was telling me about you. I’m Maggie, Johan’s mama.”
