Free An Amish Gift by Cynthia Keller Page A

usually see, you know?”
    Ignoring the smoothly worded slight, Jennie pointed to thetrays of cheese and crackers and dip with cut-up vegetables set out on the coffee table. “Please have something,” she urged.
    “Looks delicious.” Lydia smiled but seated herself as far away from the food as she could, perching on the edge of the chair.
    That’s why she can fit into that dress, Jennie thought, grabbing a cracker and cutting a thick slice of Jarlsberg cheese to go on it. “Drink?” she asked as she popped the cracker into her mouth.
    “Sparkling water would be great.”
    “I’m sorry, but we don’t have that. I can offer you water, soda, or wine.”
    “Water is fine. With a twist of lemon, please.”
    We are not
twist of lemon
people, Jennie wanted to say, but she left and went toward the kitchen. Maybe she would get lucky and find a lemon hidden in the back of the vegetable crisper. Or maybe she would get lucky and
turn into
a lemon who could hide in the back of the vegetable crisper. That would be even better.
    An unbidden image came to her of Mattie Fisher, standing in her kitchen in black-stockinged feet, stirring an enormous pot of something steaming hot that smelled delicious. She was probably feeding a hundred people today, or some such impossible number. Without a doubt, she was placid yet in control, her movements efficient and certain. Jennie felt calmer just picturing it.
    Thinking about the Fishers’ accepting natures, it dawned on her that her own nature left something to be desired. She was the one ready to pounce on Lydia’s every word. Whatever hersister-in-law was thinking, she was doing her best to keep it to herself. It was Jennie who was looking for insult at every turn. Maybe Lydia didn’t love being there and was struggling to hide her disdain, but she was trying to be pleasant about it. Jennie could choose not to look for the jibe she feared behind every sentence. Instead of viewing Christmas as a time for the family to be happily together, she had made it all about her own insecurities over their situation. Who was at fault here?
    Chastened, she mentally sent Mattie a “Merry Christmas” wish and a thank-you for unknowingly straightening her out. She pulled open the refrigerator door, resolving that when she went back into the living room, she was going to start over again and do it right.
    Just then Shep appeared in the kitchen and reached across her to grab four cans of beer from the refrigerator door. Her heart sank. “You need all four right now?” The words were out before she could stop herself.
    “It’s easier to take them in now so I don’t have to come back.” Annoyance was evident in his tone. “Lighten up, Jennie. It’s Christmas.”
    Apparently, Christmas meant different things to everybody in this family. None of them good. And none of them the right things.
    The rest of the day passed in an exhausting blur. Conversations would start out well, then trail off into awkward silence as the differences between the two families became obvious in everything from incomes to values. Jennie was supremely disappointed in the kind of person Michael had become. Hemerely sat by while Lydia bragged about ski trips to Aspen, renovating their enormous apartment in downtown Chicago, how good their children’s private schools were, and how well they would be positioned later for entry into a top college. Where, Jennie wondered, was the Michael she once knew? The down-to-earth, joking Michael who had taken such a loving interest in Tim and Willa? She could see her thoughts reflected in Shep’s eyes, and despaired to observe the pace of his beer consumption pick up, not from any celebratory motive but from his obvious desire to block out what he was witnessing.
    Even Kimberly and Evan were unrecognizable as the sweet small children she remembered; they were boisterous, demanding, and had no interest in anything other than what they wanted at a given moment. Evan spent much of the