Amish Christmas Joy. Patricia Davids

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      “Here you go. Mama left her cigarettes in the car, sweetie. Will you be okay with your daddy while I go get them?”

      Joy jerked upright. “I have a daddy?” The kid sounded as surprised as he was by the news.

      “Yes, you do. His name is Caleb Mast.”

      “A real daddy?” Her wistful tone carried hope and wonder.

      “Your real daddy,” Valerie assured her.

      Joy’s eyes narrowed. She pulled back and glared at her mother. “Is he another uncle like Jimmy and Keith?”

      “No. He’s your father. You’re going to love him.”

      “What if I don’t?”

      What if she didn’t? He wasn’t a puppy or a kitten, something a kid liked on sight. He scratched at the stubble on his cheek. He was an ex-Amish oil-rig roughneck with few manners and a job that took him away half the year. He wasn’t anyone’s idea of a daddy. He’d given up that dream.

      He turned away to get the forgotten pizza from the microwave and heard the front door open and close. He carried the second slice to Joy. She smiled when she saw it and licked the milk mustache from her upper lip.

      What if she is my daughter?

      Did it change anything? He didn’t know her. She didn’t know him. How much bonding could happen in the short time he spent ashore? Besides, he was about to take a job on one of the rigs off the coast of Brazil. He stood next on the company list to transfer. He expected to get word to pack his bags any day. He’d be gone for a full year when the opening came through.

      She finished the milk and handed him the plate with the glass. “I like pizza.”

      “No kidding.”

      “I like animal crackers the best. I eat all the elephants first.” She rocked as she smiled.

      Thunder rumbled, closer now. Her smile vanished. She glanced fearfully at the window. “I don’t like thunder.”

      “Don’t worry, it’ll be gone soon.”

      She gave him a hard look. “Promise?”

      “I promise.”

      “Can we have pizza tomorrow?”

      Where would she be tomorrow? “You’ll have to ask your mom.”

      “Okay.” She yawned widely.

      He might as well get her settled. He wasn’t going to send her and her mother out into the storm. Valerie had a lot more explaining to do. He gathered the bedding and soon had Joy tucked up snugly on his sofa. She was asleep in less than a minute. He bent and brushed her hair back from her face.

      A special child was given for a special reason. What reason could God have for sending Joy to him?

      She was a sweet kid, but was she his sweet kid? There was testing for this kind of situation. He would insist on it. Val was up to something. He settled in his recliner and waited for her to return.

      Three hours later, the storm had moved on. Morning sunlight crept in beneath the window shade. Caleb rose from the chair and opened the front door for the umpteenth time. Birds twittered in the dripping trees. The walkway and street out front were glistening wet and deserted.

      Valerie hadn’t come back.

      He heard a noise behind him. Turning, he saw Joy standing beside the couch. “Where’s my mama?”

      “I wish I knew.”

      Fear darkened her eyes. “I want my mama.”

      “Hey, it’s okay.” He started toward her without a clue what to do next.

      She backed away. “I gotta find her.”

      She darted around him and ran barefoot out the door toward the street, with Caleb close on her heels.

      * * *

      Leah Belier added a box of crayons to her basket as she shopped with her friend Joann Weaver in the small grocery store in the village of Hope Springs, Ohio.

      “Are you taking up art in your spare time?” Joann asked with a grin.

      “Nee. I noticed Emmy Chupp borrowing colors from the other students this afternoon. She loves to draw. I think she has used up the ones her mother sent with her at the beginning of the school year. I decided to get her some more.”

      “For Christmas?”

      “That’s still four weeks away. She needs them now. I’ll get her colored pencils as a Christmas gift.”

      “That’s sweet of you. How is her father getting along? I heard he broke his leg.”

      “He hasn’t been able to work at the lumberyard for several weeks. Honestly, I’m worried about the family. Emmy didn’t bring any lunch today. She told me she forgot it at home.”

      “Knowing you, I expect she ate your lunch, and you went hungry.”

      Leah chuckled. “It wouldn’t hurt me to miss a meal or two, but I always bring extra food just in case.”

      She had shared her ample sandwich with Emmy and made a mental note to check in on the family tomorrow. As the teacher at the local Amish school, Leah kept a close eye on all her students. She was in a better position than most to see where trouble was brewing.

      A new box of twenty-four crayons would cheer the shy child who liked to draw. Leah added some peanut butter and jelly to her basket. A few extra groceries might come in handy with lunches. If it looked as if they needed more help, she would let Bishop Zook know. No man’s family went hungry in their Amish community. Caring for one another was a duty, not a chore.

      She carried her purchases to the front of the store. The Englisch owner, Mr. McGregor, ran her items over the scanner. A big bear of a man with thick, curly gray hair, a wide smile and a booming voice, he and his tiny wife were longtime fixtures in Hope Springs.

      “Afternoon, ladies. I hope all of you plan to come to the Christmas parade. Since this is our first year, we want it to be a success. My kids are building a float for the store. Should be grand.”

      “We are looking forward to it,” Joann said.

      “Mrs. Weaver, the printing job you did on the flyers for our dented-canned-goods sale was great. Lots of people came, not just the Amish.”

      Joann blushed. “Miller Press is happy to serve all those in our community, Amish and non-Amish alike. I will tell my husband you were pleased.”

      Joann and her new husband, Roman Weaver, both worked at his uncle’s printing business.

      “Good. Leah, my wife and I were just saying how much we’re looking forward to your school Christmas program this year. Are the children getting excited?”

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