Christmas Visitor by Linda Byler Read Free Book Online

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    â€œYou know Mert Ordwich died?”
    â€œWho?”
    â€œMert. You know, the feed salesman. Oh, I forgot. You’re not on the farm. Well, he had hardening of the arteries and wouldn’t go to the doctor. That’s how thick headed he was. Ephraim says he’s stubborn as a mule. He was. I doubt if he is now anymore. We went to his viewing last night. The line was so long, and my feet hurt so bad. There we stood and stood, on and on. He didn’t look like Mert. His face was so puffy.”
    Mamie looked at Lillian.
    â€œShe seems perfectly alright. Anyway…Waynie, komm. As I was saying, they say the David Petersheim place is sold. Eli Kings were standing in line with us. They said a young bachelor bought it. We…I don’t know if he’s a bachelor. I shouldn’t say. He’s single, but he’s going with Paul King’s Anna.”
    Ruth chuckled.
    â€œHe’s single, but he’s dating?”
    Mamie laughed uproariously and thumped the table solidly in a most unladylike manner. Ruth watched her and felt her spirits lifting. She was also relieved knowing Lillian would be alright, and she was glad.
    â€œAch Ruth, I’m getting old. I say the dumbest things. You know what I mean. He’s pretty old — to be unmarried. Anyway, he must have money, or his father does, paying four hundred and some thousand.”
    Mamie paused as she reached for another cookie bar.
    â€œI’ll just eat this one, and then I have to go. Oh, I meant to ask you. We have a shopping trip planned at the end of October — early Christmas shopping. Would you want to go with me and a few others?”
    Ruth simply didn’t know what to say. How could she respond honestly and yet keep her pride intact at the same time? So she hesitated, pulled Lillian onto her lap, and checked the lump on her head to buy time. Then she answered Mamie.
    â€œI’ll see.”
    â€œGood! Oh, I hope you can go! We’d love to have you.”
    Later that night, when the late September moon had risen above the oak tree and bathed the small house in a soft, white glow, Ruth lay in her king sized bed, her eyes wide, her mind churning with endless questions and possibilities. What to do?
    No one was aware of the state of her bank account. No one would need to know. Times were difficult for many people. They all had enough to do, simply staying afloat, paying mortgages, and providing for their own large families.
    â€œArme vitve, vine nicht (Poor widow, do not cry).”
    Is that really what she was? How had it happened? How had she been toppled from her pedestal as Ben’s loving wife? Toppled and broken into a million pieces. Would she ever find a way out of this labyrinth of personal fear of failure? Could she survive financially, as a lone parent, raising these fast growing and maturing children? And these boys. They so desperately needed a father figure in their lives.
    Well, the fifty-seven dollars would hold them a few weeks. Then she’d either have to beg from her parents, or…or what?
    The quilt was almost finished. She had four hundred yards of thread in it so far. At seventy-five cents a yard, that would be three hundred dollars. The gas bill was almost a hundred and forty dollars, and the telephone maybe fifty or sixty.
    She’d go to B. B.’s Store, the bent and dent grocery in Quarryville. If she was especially careful, she could make do on seventy or eighty dollars.
    The horse feed was about all gone. Well, they’d have to wait till another quilt was finished. In a few more years, the boys would be fourteen and fifteen and able to earn a few dollars, but until then…she didn’t know.
    She rolled on her side and punched her pillow into a different shape. Then she stretched out her arm, her fingers searching for Lillian’s small form, and checked the rise and fall of her daughter’s breath, feeling that comforting, even rhythm that assured Ruth