Amish Christmas Memories. Vannetta Chapman

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      In every other way, stubborn and old-fashioned was more his style.

      * * *

      Ida had shared with Rachel that a few ladies would be stopping by. “They heard about your situation and want to help.”

      She wasn’t sure what that meant, but she’d nodded politely, and then Caleb had brought up alpacas, and the conversation had twisted and turned from there.

      Now it was nearly noon, and she plopped onto the couch and stared at the items stacked on the coffee table.

      Ida sat across from her, holding a steaming mug of coffee. “Seems everyone from our community pitched in. It’s gut, ya?”

      “Of course. I’m a bit stunned. How did they even know that I’d need these things? How did they know I was here?”

      “Word travels fast in an Amish community. Certainly you remember that.”

      “We used to call it the Amish grapevine.”

      Ida laughed. “I’ve heard that before, too, but ‘grapevine’ has a gossipy sound to it. This is really just neighbors helping neighbors.”

      Rachel picked the top dress off the pile of clothes. The color was midnight blue—Caleb would be happy about that—and the fabric was a good cotton that would last. It was also soft to the touch. She ran her hand across it, humbled by all that these women, who were strangers to her, had given.

      “We’ll need to take those in, of course. You’re shorter and smaller than Rebekah’s girls.”

      “Won’t they need these?”

      “Not likely, both have put on a good bit of weight since marrying, and that was before they were expecting her first grandchildren. No, I don’t think they’ll be needing them back.”

      There were underclothes, kapps, two outdoor bonnets and a coat. All except the underclothes were used, but in good condition. Someone had brought a Bible and a journal for writing in. She thought those might come in handy. Dr. Gold had mentioned that writing a little every day might help her memories return. There was also a new scarf and gloves, knitted in a dark gray that had a touch of shimmer to it. “This is beautiful work.”

      “Melinda can do wonders with a knitting needle. I’ve always been more of a crochet person myself.”

      Rachel stood up, went to the room she was staying in and returned with the blue scarf she’d apparently been wearing when Caleb had found her. No coat, but a scarf—strange indeed. “I think—I think I might be a knitter.”

      “That’s why you knew about the alpaca yarn.”

      “Maybe. I think so. I know this is called a stockinette pattern—you alternate rows of knitting with rows of purling.” She closed her eyes, could almost see herself adjusting the tension in her yarn, squinting at a pattern, knitting needles flying. She could be imagining, or she could be remembering. There was no way to know.

      “Are you remembering anything else?”

      “Only that this—” She ran her fingers over the scarf, then draped it around her neck. “It seems very familiar.”

      “That’s a beginning.”

      “If only I could remember more, but when I try, the headaches return.”

      Ida walked over to the bookcase and brought back the packet of information from the doctor at the hospital. Rachel had already rifled through it twice. There were instructions, what to expect, warning signs, as well as two cards—one for her next appointment with Dr. Gold and another card with the name and contact information for a Dr. Michie. She’d spoken with the doctor a few minutes before leaving the hospital. She was a counselor of some sort and had told Rachel to call her if she’d like to make an appointment.

      Ida sat beside Rachel on the couch and they both stared down at the top page.

      Ida read aloud from the sheet. “‘Symptoms of a concussion include brief loss of consciousness.’”

      “Check.”

      “‘Memory problems.’”

      “We all know I have that.”

      “‘Confusion.’”

      Rachel leaned forward, propped her elbows on her knees and pressed her fingertips to her forehead. “Sometimes, when I can’t remember how I know something, I feel terribly confused.”

      Ida nodded and continued with the list. “‘Drowsiness or feeling sluggish.’”

      “Twice this morning I went back and laid down on the bed for a few minutes.”

      “Only because I insisted. You need to recognize when things are overwhelming you. It’s important for a woman to learn to take care of herself. You’re no use to your family—”

      “I don’t have one.”

      “Or anyone else if you allow yourself to become ill or exhausted.”

      Rachel heard the concern in Ida’s voice, but she couldn’t bring herself to meet her gaze. “I’m batting a thousand, as my bruder would say...”

      She slapped her hand over her mouth.

      Ida reached over and clutched her hand. “That’s gut, Rachel. You’re starting to remember. That’s a gut sign.”

      “I suppose.”

      “Can you remember his name?”

       “Nein.”

      “Older or younger?”

      She closed her eyes and tried to picture her family, tried to recall anything from her past, but to no avail.

      Her heart was racing and her mind was spinning off in a dozen directions, but she couldn’t quite grasp even one solid piece of information about her former life—other than she had a brother. Was he worried? Was he looking for her?

      Finally, she motioned for Ida to continue with the list of symptoms. They knew she had a concussion, the doctor had confirmed as much, but it helped to know that the things she was feeling and experiencing weren’t unusual.

      “‘Dizziness or blurred vision.’”

      “A little yesterday, when I first woke up in the hospital.”

      “‘Headache.’”

      “Ya, especially when I try to remember.”

      “‘Nausea or vomiting.’”

      “Not since I started eating.”

      “‘Sensitivity to light.’”

      “That’s on there?” She scooted closer and peered at the sheet. “I tried going outside for a few СКАЧАТЬ