Amish White Christmas Pie Page 15

  She nodded. “There weren’t too many customers, so I did just fine.”

  “That’s good to hear.”

  “Oh, I almost forgot. Mary Jane’s mother came by the house this afternoon,” Regina said. “She wanted to let me know that Mary Jane’s still down with the flu and won’t be here tomorrow either.”

  “I can help again,” Karen was quick to say. “I talked to Mom on the phone during lunch, and she said they can get by without me for the rest of the week if you need my help here.”

  “It would be much appreciated.” Regina ladled the stew into a serving bowl and placed it on the table. “Shall we eat?”

  Mark nodded. “I thought you’d never ask.”

  “Daddy, Kim’s bothering me!”

  Frank groaned as he rose from the couch. He’d spent the entire evening refereeing petty squabbles between his daughters when all he’d wanted to do was relax and watch a little TV.

  “That’s what I get for agreeing to watch the girls while Megan went to her Bible study,” he mumbled as he climbed the stairs leading to their bedrooms.

  He spotted Kim at the top of the stairs, scuttling across the hardwood floor. Carrie was right behind Kim, poking her in the back.

  Frank reached out and grabbed Carrie by the arm, and Kim disappeared into her room. “I thought I told you to get ready for bed! Don’t you ever listen to anything I say?” The emotions surging through him defied explanation.

  Carrie’s dark eyes filled with tears, and her lower lip trembled.

  “Y–you’re hurtin’ me, Daddy.”

  He let go of her arm and shook his finger in her face. “I told you and Kim to brush your teeth and get ready for bed half an hour ago, and you’re not even in your pajamas yet!”

  Carrie’s shoulders shook as she buried her face in her hands.

  “Don’t start crying on me now.” He smacked his hands together, and she jumped. “Go to your room and get ready for bed!”

  “Please don’t yell anymore,” Carrie whimpered. “I’ll be good; I promise.” She slunk off to her room, sniffling all the way.

  With an exasperated grunt, Frank tromped down the stairs. As he flopped onto the couch, an image from the past rose in his mind….

  “I didn’t mean to do it, Pop. I just wanted to—”

  Smack! Frank felt the sting of his father’s hand as it connected with his face. “Don’t talk back to me, boy!”

  Frank darted behind the sofa and cowered. Pop had been drinking again, and that always spelled trouble.

  “Come out of there and face me like a man!”

  Knowing he would be in bigger trouble if he didn’t obey, Frank stood on shaky legs and inched his way out from behind the sofa.

  Smack! Smack! Smack! Several more blows came, this time to Frank’s face, arms, and the small of his back.

  Frank cried out and held his arms in front of his face, hoping to shield himself from the next blow.

  Smack! It came with such force that it sent Frank flying across the room. He bounced against the wall and dropped to the floor with a thud.

  “Get up, you stupid boy! You’re worthless, you know that?”

  Frank’s stomach churned as the bitter taste of bile rose in his throat. Why didn’t Mama come to his rescue? Why didn’t she tell Pop to stop this madness?

  “Please don’t hit me no more,” Frank whimpered. “I’ll be a good boy; I promise I will.”

  “I know you’ll be good, because I’m gonna make sure you’re good.” Pop’s mouth twisted as he grabbed Will’s ear and jerked him to his feet. He was obviously proud of himself for being able to control his unruly son.

  He backhanded Frank again and pushed him onto the sofa. “You need to learn a good lesson; that’s what you need!”

  I hate you, Pop! Frank cried silently. I hate you, and I hate Mama, too!

  Tears streamed down Frank’s face as his thoughts returned to the present. He’d spent most of his childhood hating and living in fear of his father. When Frank’s mother had died of cancer soon after his seventeenth birthday, Frank had left home and struck out on his own, never to return. He’d seen his dad’s obituary in the paper a few years later but felt no sorrow that Pop was gone. He’d vowed never to be like his dad, but seeing how Carrie had reacted to his display of temper made Frank realize that if he wasn’t careful to keep a lid on his temper, he could end up following in his dad’s footsteps.

  Frank didn’t want his girls to live in fear the way he had as a child. In the six years he’d raised Will, he’d never struck the boy. But tonight, standing in the hallway with Carrie, he’d had to fight for control.

  He felt remorse for making Carrie fearful in his presence, and the pain of his harsh words washed over him like a wave of fire. He needed to apologize and make things right between them. And he needed to do it now.

  Frank rose from the couch and headed upstairs. He found Carrie in her room, dressed in her pajamas, sprawled out on her bed, sobbing like her little heart would break in two.

  He sat beside her and took hold of her hand. “I’m sorry, Carrie. I didn’t mean to yell like that.”

  “I–I’m sorry, Daddy.” She sniffed a couple of times. “I should’ve listened when you told me to get ready for bed.”

  Frank gathered the child in his arms. “I love you, sweetie.”

  “I love you, too.”

  As Frank rocked his daughter back and forth, his thoughts went to Will. Did Regina and Mark Stoltzfus comfort my boy over the years, the way I’m doing with Carrie right now? Maybe Will was better off growing up with the Amish couple as his parents than he would have been if he’d stayed with me.

  When Megan entered the living room, she found Frank slouched on the sofa with his head resting in his hands. The TV was off. Something must be wrong.

  She took a seat on the end of the sofa. “What’s the matter, Frank? Are you feeling all right?”

  He lifted his head and looked at her with a vacant stare.

  A feeling of trepidation crept up her spine. Something was wrong. She touched his leg. “What is it, Frank?”

  He blinked a couple of times, as though coming out of a trance. “Don’t ever ask me to watch the girls again. I can’t be trusted.”

  Megan’s heart leaped into her throat. “Did something happen to Carrie or Kim?”

  He shook his head. “No, but it could have.”

  “You’re scaring me, Frank. What happened while I was gone?”

  “I told them several times to get ready for bed, but they kept playing and fussing at each other.” He paused and drew in a quick breath. “When I went upstairs to check on things, I…I almost hit Carrie.”

  “You mean you wanted to give her a spanking?”

  “No, I wanted to slap her face or shake some sense into her head.” His shoulders slumped, and he buried his face in his hands.

  Megan knelt on the floor in front of him. “You’re not the only parent who’s ever felt like slapping his child. And sometimes, when an act of disobedience has occurred, a correctly applied spanking might be necessary.”

  “I realize that, but I’m afraid I might not be able to control my temper if I dole out any kind of corporal punishment.” He groaned. “I’m afraid I’ll become an abusive father like my dad was to me.”

  “But you didn’t hit Carrie. You stopped yourself before you lost control of your temper. That counts for something.”

  He sat up straight, slowly shaking his head.

  Megan’s heart filled with compassion for Frank. She knew from the things he’d told her that his dad had been abusive and had a drinking problem, but until this moment, she hadn’t realized how much it had affected Frank.

  “I hated my dad when I was a boy, and I hate him now for making me question my ability to be a good father to our girls.” Deep lines etched Frank’s forehead, and his clenched jaw revealed the extent of his anger and resentment.

  Megan took hold of his hand. “You’ve got to stop hating your father. You need to f
ind forgiveness in your heart for what he did to you.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Yes, you can.”

  He shook his head. “I can’t forgive my dad, because I’m no better than he was.”

  “You mean because you were tempted to hit Carrie tonight?”

  “That’s only part of it.” Frank’s hand trembled as he reached up to rub his forehead. “I was a lousy father to Will, too. If I live to be one hundred, I’ll never forgive myself for leaving him with that Amish couple.”

  Megan reached for her Bible on the coffee table. “I want to read something to you.” She opened the Bible to Romans 3:23.

  “‘For all have sinned, and come short of the glory of God,’” she read. “Not one of us is without sin, Frank.”

  “I—I suppose you’re right about that.”

  “But there’s a way we can be released from the oppression of our sins.” Megan flipped over to 1 John 1:9. “‘If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.’”

  “If I could only find my son, I might feel released from my guilt and sin.”

  “No, Frank. You need to ask the Lord to forgive your sins, and He will release you from your guilty feelings. Then you need to forgive your father and forgive yourself, regardless of whether you ever find Will or not. It’s the only way you’ll find peace in your heart. It’s the only way you’ll be able to be the kind of father our girls need you to be.”

  Tears pooled in Frank’s eyes. “I—I don’t know how to pray, Megan. Would you help me say what needs to be said?”

  She nodded and motioned him to join her on the floor. Kneeling in front of the sofa together, Megan led her husband in a prayer of repentance and forgiveness.

  CHAPTER 21

  As Frank sat at the kitchen table two weeks later, he picked up his Bible to read a few verses of scripture before it was time to eat supper. The girls were in the living room playing with their dolls, and Megan had gone to the basement to check on the clothes in the dryer.

  Frank picked up his coffee mug and took a drink; then he opened the Bible and turned to the passage he’d been studying, John 8:32: “And ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free.”

  The truth of God’s Word and His plan of salvation: That’s what made me free, Frank mused. Ever since he’d given his heart to the Lord and confessed his sins, he’d felt a sense of peace that went beyond all understanding. He was a new creature in Christ—saved by the blood of the Lamb. The hate he had felt for his father was gone. The self-recrimination he’d been living with for the past sixteen years had been replaced with a sense of peace. The future was God’s. Will, wherever he might be, was in God’s hands. If it was meant for Frank to see his son again, then it would happen in God’s time, in God’s way.

  I need to keep my focus on Megan and the girls and try to be the best husband and father I can be. Frank took another drink of coffee. When I’m not working, we need to do more things together as a family—and that includes going to church.

  “I put the last load of clothes in the dryer, so I’m ready to start supper now,” Megan said as she stepped into the room.

  “No hurry. I’m not really hungry yet anyway.” Frank looked at her and smiled. “I’ve been thinking about some things we can do with the girls this coming year.”

  “Such as?”

  “Maybe a trip to see Niagara Falls this summer.”

  “That would be fun.”

  “I also thought it would be good for us to take them camping—maybe do a little fishing, too.”

  Megan nodded. “When I was a girl, my folks used to take me and my sister camping every summer.” She moved across the room and picked up the pieces of mail that had been stacked on the counter. “I’ve been so busy today I haven’t had a chance to go through the mail. Since you’re not in a hurry to eat, maybe I’ll go through it now.” Megan pulled out the chair across from him and took a seat.

  As Frank continued to read his Bible, Megan thumbed through the mail. Suddenly she let out a squeal.

  Startled, he jumped. “What’s wrong? Did you see a mouse or something?”

  “It’s here, Frank! The copy of The Budget with your ad in it is here.” She leaned across the table and handed the newspaper to him.

  Frank scanned the paper until he found the notice section. His heartbeat picked up speed as he read the notice aloud: “‘I’m looking for my son, Will, whom I left with an Amish couple, Mark and Regina Stoltzfus, 16 years ago. The Stoltzfuses lived in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania, but have since moved. Anyone having knowledge of their whereabouts, please contact Frank Henderson, 555-230-9110.’ ”

  He let the paper fall to the table and looked over at Megan. “Do you think it’s possible that one of the Stoltzfuses or even Will might read this notice and contact me?”

  Megan smiled. “With God, all things are possible.”

  “Will, could you find me a pitchfork?” Papa Mark asked as he entered one of the horses’ stalls. “There doesn’t seem to be one in here.”

  “Jah, sure.” Will found a pitchfork leaning against a bale of hay not far from the horse he was feeding and handed it to Papa Mark.

  “Danki, son.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Sure does feel good to be back working again. I missed getting dirty and sweaty every day.”

  Will chuckled. He was glad Papa Mark was doing better and could do most of his chores again. Besides the fact that Papa Mark was happier when he was busy, having him working again meant Will had a little more free time. He’d been so busy these past few weeks that it had been difficult to find time to be with Karen. She’d only helped at the health food store a couple of days, just until Mary Jane had returned to work and Papa Mark had convinced Mama Regina that he didn’t need her hovering over him all day.

  When Karen and I get married, I’ll want to spend every free moment with her, Will thought. And if she hovers, I think it’ll make me feel loved. He smiled to himself as he opened a fresh bale of hay. I’ll bet that’s how Papa Mark felt when he and Mama Regina were first married.

  “It was nice of your friend Nathan to help out while I was recuperating,” Papa Mark said.

  Will nodded. “He’s been a big help to his uncle since he came back to Indiana, too.”

  “You think he’ll stick around?”

  “Jah. Now that he’s working at the trailer factory, he has an even better reason to stay permanently.”

  “I’m sure his aunt and uncle are happy about that.”

  “From what I understand, Mary Jane is, as well.”

  Papa Mark forked another bunch of hay. “Mind if ask you a question, Will?”

  “Don’t mind at all.”

  “I’m wondering if you’re happy, son. I mean, you don’t have any regrets about joining the Amish faith, do you?”

  Will’s forehead wrinkled. “Of course not. I like being Amish.”

  “Me and your mamm are glad you came to live with us.”

  “I’m glad, too. I just wish…” Will’s voice trailed off.

  “What do you wish?”

  “Oh nothing.” Will pulled the bale of hay apart and headed for the next stall. He wasn’t about to admit, not even to himself, that he wished he at least knew if Pop was still alive.

  Regina reached for her cup of coffee as she read the latest issue of The Budget. It was interesting to read about the things that went on in other Amish communities around the country—trips people had taken, visitors who had come to their house, accidents that had occurred, sicknesses in the family, weddings they’d attended, and the births of children and grandchildren.

  She read several articles that had been written by various scribes in Ohio, Pennsylvania, Illinois, and Indiana; then she turned to the ad and notice pages. Skipping the ones that held no interest, her gaze came to rest on one particular notice printed in bold type with a box around it. “I’m looking for my son, Will, whom I left w
ith an Amish couple, Mark and Regina Stoltzfus, 16 years ago. The Stoltzfuses lived in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania, but have since moved. Anyone having knowledge of their whereabouts, please contact Frank Henderson, 555-230-9110.”