Wild Horses (Sadie's Montana #1)(52)
After everything was put on the table, they all gathered around, slid into their chairs, and bowed their heads for a silent prayer of thanksgiving for all the food and the gift of the Baby Jesus.
They ate with enormous appetites, enjoying the rich home-cooked food unreservedly. After all, Christmas came just once a year.
Dat proclaimed the meal the best ever. He said the ham was similar to the kind he ate as a child when they butchered their own hogs and cured their own meat. He couldn’t believe this was from IGA. Mam beamed with satisfaction, her cheeks flushed with pleasure.
Reuben just grinned and grinned, eating so much it was alarming. Sadie asked him where all the food was going, and he shrugged his shoulders and grinned some more.
Reaching for his second whole wheat dinner roll, he spread it liberally with butter. Then he turned the plastic honey bear upside down and squeezed with both hands until a river of honey spread its golden stickiness across the snow-white tablecloth. That was no problem for Reuben who lowered his head to lick it off the tablecloth before being firmly reminded about good table manners. Dat’s gray eyebrows lowered in that certain way that drew instant respect.
Sadie ate two squares of Christmas Salad, ran a finger inside the belt of her dress, then eyed the date pudding.
“Go ahead,” Leah laughed, her blue eyes sparkling.
Sadie caught her eye, knowing Leah had seen that exploratory search for a measurement of her waistline. They threw back their heads and had a good old, little-girl belly laugh, one that floated up through the region of their stomachs and felt as delicious as all the good food. It was truly Christmas, a time of celebration and joy, a special time of happiness when families remembered Christ’s birth and were made glad, as in times of old.
They lingered around the table and made plans for the New Year festivities. That was the evening they had reserved for Richard Caldwell and his wife, Barbara. The Caldwells had asked for an invitation, never having visited an Amish home before. So the Miller family talked and planned ahead, knowing they would try and do their best in cooking and baking the old-fashioned way.
Reuben said Richard Caldwell was only a human being, same as everybody else, so why would you have to go to all that trouble?
Sadie wanted to invite Jim and Dorothy, too, but it was a bit questionable whether Dorothy would be comfortable with Richard Caldwell, him being the boss and all.
Finally, the dishes were done, leftovers were put away, and snacks were set out on the counter top for all the families coming to spend the afternoon singing the German Christmas hymns. There was Chex Mix, Rice Krispie Treats, chocolate-covered peanut butter crackers, homemade chocolate fudge, peanut butter fudge, and all kinds of fruit. Vegetables and dip were arranged in a colorful display.
They had just finished when the first buggy came up the driveway, the spirited horse spraying chunks of snow with his hooves. Smiling faces entered and were greeted warmly. Soon the German hymnbooks were brought out, and Uncle Samuel’s beautiful, rich baritone filled the room with song. They sang “Shtille Nacht, Heilige Nacht,” the women’s alto voices blending perfectly. They followed that with “Freue Dich Velt.” When the volume increased, chills went up Sadie’s arms.
What a wonderful old song! The words were a clear message of joy; the assurance the Lord had come and all heaven and earth were to rejoice. It was so real and so uplifting, Sadie rose above the worry about Mam, the sadness of Ezra’s sudden death, the horror of the accident…just everything. God was in his heaven. Yes, he was! He loved all mankind enough to send the Christ Child, and for all lowly sinners, it was enough.
Sadie was ashamed of the tears that sprang to her eyes, so she got her crutches and left the room, her face turned away. They would think she was crying about Ezra, perhaps, or that she had “nerve trouble” since the accident, so it was best to keep the tears hidden.
The kitchen door banged open, depositing Reuben and three of his cousins in a wet, breathless, fast-moving, fast-talking bundle on the long, rectangular carpet inside.
“Sadie!”
She stopped, leaned on her crutches, and raised one eyebrow.
“Do you absolutely have to be so noisy?”
“Hey, Sadie! Did someone borrow Nevaeh? He’s not in his stall! He’s not in the pasture! Where is he? Did Richard Caldwell come to get him?”
Sadie leaned forward, looking sharply at Reuben.
“Reuben, stop it! It’s not funny. Of course Nevaeh’s out there somewhere. You know he is.”
“He’s not! Uncle Levi’s and Samuel’s horses are tied in his stall. Charlie is in his own. No horses were left in the pasture.”
“Was his gate broken down? Does it look as if he got out?” Sadie asked, her voice rising to a shrill squeak.
Reuben shook his head, snow spraying from his dark blue beanie.
“No! He isn’t around anywhere.”
“Go ask Samuel and Levi if he was there when they arrived.”
The singing soon stopped, and Sadie listened as she heard the boys relate their news. She heard Dat exclaim, “He was there this morning. I know he was!”
“Well, he’s not now.”
The men all trooped out to the kitchen, grabbed their coats and hats, pulled on heavy gloves and boots, and went to the barn. Sadie hobbled over to the kitchen door, her heart banging against her ribs, waiting, watching anxiously for the men’s return.