An Amish Christmas Quilt (25 page)

“
Ach, du lieva
.” Anna burst into an infectious smile. “You're looking for Dottie?”

“Is she here?”

“You just missed her. Well, I can't say you
just
missed her. She left about half an hour ago.”

What was left of Gid's stomach plummeted to the floor. “Half an hour? Did she say where she was going?”

“I hope she went straight home in this storm,” Beth said.

Fear set Gid's heart to pounding against his chest. Dottie was out there somewhere, and if he didn't find her soon, he didn't even want to think about what might happen.

“She hadn't arrived home yet when I left to come here. I came all the way from her house to see if I could track her down. I'm afraid she might be lost. I can't see a thing through that blizzard out there.”

“Oh no,” Anna said. “What do you think happened? Do you think she's okay?”

Gid closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I hope so.”

He took off his gloves and pulled Junior's phone from his coat pocket. “I'm going to call the police.”

Anna covered her mouth with her hand. “The police? Is it that bad?”

“Maybe not, but I'm not going to wait to find out.”

He turned Junior's phone on and dialed 911. The phone seemed to think about it for a minute and then blinked its rejection.
Call failed.

Growling in frustration, he lifted the phone clear over his head and dialed again.
Call failed.
No good.

Ice ran through his veins as he tucked his coat collar around his neck. “I'm not getting any service. I'll ride down the hill and try again and see if I can pick up any sign of her. Maybe she took a wrong turn and couldn't find the way back.”

“If anybody can find her, you can,” Dawdi said. “Dig a snow cave if you can't see your way out of the storm.”

“I will,” said Gid, hoping it didn't come to that. If he was desperate enough to dig a snow cave, both he and Dottie would be in serious trouble indeed.

“Wait,” Mammi said. She bustled to her closet and pulled out an emerald-green scarf. “Take this. It's made with lots of love. It will keep you extra warm.”

“Thank you,” Gid said. Mammi claimed her scarves had saved more than one life. Gid was never quite sure what she meant. “I'll come by tomorrow to take you . . . I'll visit tomorrow.”

“Bring Dottie along,” Mammi said, not grasping the gravity of the situation at hand. It was probably better that way.

Not wanting to waste one more minute, he bolted out the door without saying good-bye and ran for the barn. At least Pete had had a chance to get a drink and a little rest.

He coaxed Pete down the hill and onto the main road keeping a sharp lookout for any sign of Dottie and her sleigh. He tried the phone again, fearing he'd get the same result as before. He did.

As fast as he dared prod Pete to go, he headed in the direction of the path where he'd seen tracks earlier. Lord willing, he'd find Dottie at the end of those tracks.

A long, slow mile from Huckleberry Hill, Gid found the turnoff where he thought he had seen the tracks. He held the lantern at his side high enough to light his way but not so high that the light reflecting off the heavy snowfall blinded him. If there had been any tracks, they had been wiped clean by the snow and wind. He followed his gut and turned Pete down the lightly worn path. If Dottie had gone this way, she couldn't have gone far.

“Dottie,” he called. The wind carried his voice away almost before it was out of his mouth. She wouldn't be able to hear him above the roar of the storm, and even if she could, he would never hear her answer back.

He tried the phone one more time with little hope. If it hadn't worked on Huckleberry Hill, chances were it wouldn't work in the dense woods.

The trees grew thicker the farther he ventured off the road. Gid let Pete choose the pace as the horse gingerly plowed his way through the deepening snow. Snowflakes accumulated in Gid's eyelashes and slithered down his neck despite Mammi's fuzzy green scarf. His nose and cheeks felt raw in the biting wind.

How far had he gone? Two, three miles? It was taking too long. He needed to find Dottie and he needed to find her now. And still, the snow fell in thick sheets.

He was just about to turn back when Pete nearly stumbled over an abandoned sleigh in the middle of the path. It was covered with snow, but its shape was easy enough to distinguish. His heart pounded even as a pit formed in his stomach.

It had to be Dottie's sleigh. Where was Dottie?

Gid slid off Pete and studied the ground. His lantern cast a ghostly light over the snow. The drifts seemed less smooth to his left. Had Dottie led her pony farther into the woods? Maybe she had been so disoriented that she hadn't known what direction she headed in.

Keeping his eyes glued to what looked like evidence of Dottie's trail, Gid walked his horse deeper into the woods. He couldn't see more than about four feet in front of him, but faint signs of footprints were enough to give him hope that he was going in the right direction.

A glint of something through the trees caught his eye. He put the lantern behind his back to smother its light. There it was, a tiny beacon up ahead. His heart jumped into his throat.

He trudged madly through the snow, pulling Pete behind him and keeping his gaze fixed on that light. He soon saw what he was headed toward. The dark shape of a hunter's cabin loomed in front of him with a tiny light shining in one of the windows.

He guided Pete around the cabin until he found a door. Without even thinking to knock, he shoved the door open and lifted his lantern. A pony stood inside the small room, where half the floor was covered with snow. The pony looked no worse for the wear, even though he had to be cold.

A dim flashlight sat on the windowsill of an open window, pointed out into the darkness. The battery was just about spent.

He dropped Pete's lead and stepped around the pony to another doorway, letting his light show the way. He could almost hear his clamoring heartbeat as he glimpsed a dark figure huddled in the corner. Holding his breath, he lifted the lantern higher and nearly passed out with relief.

“You came,” she whispered.

C
HAPTER
9

At first she wondered if he was an angel come to take her to heaven. She felt cold enough to be near death. Then the light illuminated his face.

Gid.

Gid. The boy she'd snapped at today. The boy who couldn't hum but who could make her feel all tingly inside just by looking at her. The boy who slept in snow caves and probably fought wolves with his bare hands.

“Dottie,” he nearly shouted, his voice a mixture of panic and relief.

She was too weak to stand up. Her legs felt as if they were frozen to the cold dirt floor, and her arms wouldn't move properly.

He set his lantern on the floor next to the wall. With two giant steps, he was at her side. Enveloping her in a smothering bear hug, he pulled her to her feet. He held her firmly in his embrace as if he understood that she couldn't stand on her own. With his arms around her, it felt like a heat wave had just blown in. “Dottie, are you okay? Can you move your legs?”

“I . . . I don't think so.”

Keeping a tight hold of her, he said, “Stamp your feet on the ground. Get the circulation moving.”

She did as she was told and winced with pain as her half-frozen feet met with the rock-hard floor.

“I'm sorry,” he said, pressing his cheek against hers. “I know it hurts. You're experiencing mild hypothermia. But don't stop moving.”

Holding her arm, he unzipped his coat, pulled her closer, and wrapped her inside the coat with him. She sighed as his body heat engulfed her. His heavenly masculine scent filled her nose. Would Dat consider this inappropriate behavior? Should she step away? She couldn't step away. She couldn't even stand on her own.

“I can't feel my fingers. Will they have to cut them off?”

“Slip your mittens off and wrap your hands around my back. Inside my coat.”

She took off her mittens and slid her ice-cold hands around him. It was freezing in here. How could he be radiating so much heat?

“Keep stamping,” he said when she paused the savor his warmth. They must have looked like they were doing some strange dance together.

Dottie gasped with every step. Her feet felt like two chunks of ice, and frosty needles stabbed into her each time her sweatpants rubbed against her skin.

“Do you feel the circulation coming back into your legs?”

She nodded.

“Can you stand on your own? I need to build a fire.”

The thought of Gid withdrawing his body heat made her want to cry. She bit her lip. “Maybe if I lean against the wall.”

“Okay, I'm going to let go. As soon as I build a fire, I'll wrap you up again.”

She reluctantly pulled her hands from behind his back and reached for the windowsill. She winced. The window was boarded up, but the sill was covered with a layer of ice.

“Here,” he said, pulling off his gloves. “Put these on.”

“Your hands will freeze.”

He took her hands and slid his gloves onto them. “I'll wear your mittens. Once I get the fire going, neither of us will need them.”

She shifted her weight stiffly and grasped the ledge as if it were a lifeline.

“Keep stamping,” he said.

Stiffly, she stomped one foot and then the other. “I fell in the snow. My sweatpants are starting to freeze.”

Alarm joined the concern already on his face. Bending over, he lifted the hem of her dress a few inches so he could get a better look. Grabbing a handful of the pants' fabric, he said, “These are soaked. They've got to come off.”

“Come off?” The thought of exposing her legs to the frigid air made her throat constrict. “I can't.”

“You're more likely to develop hypothermia when you're wet. Trust me. You'll feel warmer without them.”

It took all her strength not to burst into tears. She was so cold. “Are you sure?”

“I'll bring Pete in while you take them off. Are your shoes wet too?”

Dottie nodded.

Gid stepped into the other room and took the leather jacket from Brownie's back. “Take your shoes and socks off and stand on this. It will be warmer than the bare floor.”

Without another word, he stepped out of the room. While she slipped off her shoes, stockings, and sweatpants, she heard Gid coax his horse into the cabin and shut the door. With the snow blowing in the open window, it couldn't have been much warmer for the animals inside than it was outside.

She shivered as the frigid air pinched her exposed skin. The pain was nearly unbearable. Taking shallow breaths, she held on to the ledge, stood on the jacket, and tried to borrow some warmth from it. It didn't make her feel any better.

Gid reentered the room holding a pair of snowshoes in one hand and the lantern in the other. He glanced at her with immense anxiety etched into his features. “Here, sit down,” he said, taking off his coat. She sat on the jacket, and he laid his coat across her legs. “Hang on. Just let me build a fire.”

“You need your coat, Gid.”

“I've got layers.” He knelt down next to the fireplace and regarded the pile of logs. “We need some newspaper.”

“Are you going to rub two sticks together?”

His lips twitched upward. “A good mountain man never leaves home without matches.” He pointed to her bag sitting in the corner. “Do you have anything in there we could use for kindling?”

“I don't know.”

He grabbed it from the floor and rifled through it as if his life depended on it. He found the plastic garbage bag and pulled the quilt out. “Dottie,” he growled. “Why didn't you use this earlier?” She gasped as he tossed it to her. “Wrap it around your legs and then put my coat over the top of that. Layers.”

Dottie squeezed the tears from her eyes. “It's Mamm's special quilt. I don't want it to get dirty. It will be ruined.”

He pressed his lips into a rigid line and scolded her with his eyes. “I refuse to let you get frostbite.”

Her heart sank as she looked at the lap quilt in her hand. All those months of carefully stitching the small strips of fabric together. She couldn't bear to get it dirty.

“Dottie, wrap that quilt around your legs.” Now he sounded angry.

She wanted to resist him, but she knew he was right. And her feet were so cold. With a lump in her throat, she bundled Mamm's beautiful quilt around her legs and pulled Gid's coat over it.

He must not have liked the look on her face. Scooting next to her, he laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Quilts are made to keep people warm, Dottie.” His smile was a little sad, and she could tell he truly felt bad about the quilt. “Your mamm would rather have you than the most beautiful quilt in the world.” He brushed his cold fingers down her cheek. The cabin grew ten degrees warmer. “And so would I. You and all your toes.”

She pulled her knees up to her chin, wrapped her arms around them, and curled her toes. They were stiff, but at least she could feel them. “I'd like to have all my toes for Christmas.”

Satisfied, Gid nodded, went back to the fireplace with some urgency, and continued his search of her bag. He pulled out the special card she'd made for Mamm. He glanced at her guiltily. “Sorry, Dottie. I need something dry and flammable.”

She nodded, not trusting her voice to remain steady. She'd spent an hour on that card. Was Gid determined to ruin everything?

She scrunched herself into a tighter ball and watched as Gid tore her beautiful card into strips and laid the scraps into a pile on the grate inside the fireplace. Tears ran down her face, but she didn't make a sound. It seemed ridiculous to be crying over something so small when a fire could save their lives.

Embarrassed to be caught crying, she blotted the tears from her face with Gid's large glove before taking it off and stuffing her hand into her coat pocket. She discovered a treasure. “Here's more paper if you need it.”

She pulled out the dollar bills she had found in the leather jacket. Gid nodded and took them from her. He shredded them and put them in his pile. “Oh, wait,” he said. “One more thing.” He scooted to his coat she sat on, reached into the pocket, and pulled out a wadded-up piece of paper. His lips twisted wryly. “Ada's letter.”

Dottie wouldn't have thought it possible to feel any warmth in her cheeks, but she felt herself blushing all the same.

Gid tore the letter into his pile. “We need kindling if we have any hope of catching the big stuff on fire.” His hand went into her bag again.

He smiled, actually smiled, when he pulled out the yarn potholders Anna had given her. “Will I hurt Mammi's feelings if I burn these?”

“I think Anna would be pleased to know her potholders came in handy.”

He formed three of the potholders into a little tent over the scraps of paper, money, and glittering paper stars. Then he formed a tent-like structure over that with four of the smaller pieces of wood. He turned to her and nodded reassuringly. “This is going to work.”

“Lord willing, the chimney is clear.”

“God is watching out for us. It will work.” Yesterday, she'd found his overconfidence irritating. Today, she found it comforting. If Gid was sure, then she didn't need to doubt.

He took a match out of his snow pants' pocket and struck it against a brick. It caught fire, and he carefully poked it under the strips of paper. The paper flared into flame, and Dottie held her breath. If the potholders didn't catch fire, she didn't know what Gid would do.

He pressed his lips together and a line appeared between his brows. Gid was holding his breath too.

The potholders smoldered for a few seconds, and thick smoke curled out from underneath them as the flames from the burning paper lapped at the corners. Then, suddenly, there was a puff of air and the potholders burst into bright, welcome flame.

Dottie sighed in relief. Gid's grin took over his whole face. “I told you it would work. Never underestimate my many abilities.”

“Like humming?”

He cocked an eyebrow. “Look into that fire and tell me how important my humming skills are now.”

Gid threw the rest of the potholders onto the fire and watched as the flames danced merrily around the wood. When the smaller logs had taken hold, he threw a bigger one onto the fire. “That should be enough to warm us up.
Cum
, Dottie, scoot as close as you can.”

She stood but couldn't straighten her back or her knees. Gid grabbed the jacket and the quilt and coat and moved them while Dottie, hunched over and shivering, shuffled closer. Gid folded up his coat and put it on the ground. “Sit on this instead or the floor will absorb too much of your heat.”

When Dottie sat down, he laid the quilt over her legs and then tucked it underneath her. Dottie winced. Her log-cabin design already wore several smudges of dirt. Gid laid the jacket over her feet. This close to the fire, she felt much better already.

“Do we have enough wood?”

“Should last a few hours yet.” Standing up straight, Gid pulled a cell phone out of his pocket.

“Where did you get that?” she asked.

“It's Junior's.” He dialed a number and raised it over his head as if he were asking the teacher a question.

She heard it ring. Gid must have had it on speaker.

“Hello, Gid?” It was Aunt Elsie.

“Aunt Elsie,” Gid said, the relief evident in his voice. “Tell Melvin I found Dottie, and she's okay.”

“Oh, Gid, wonderful-
gute
. That is an answer to our prayers. We got so worried when we didn't hear from you. Are you staying at Anna and Felty's?”

“Aunt Elsie, I need you to call the police and tell them where we are.”

“Hello? Hello, Gid? Are you there?”

Gid spoke louder. “I need you to call the police.”

“Gid? I can't hear you,” Aunt Elsie said before her voice cut off and the phone went dead.

Gid frowned. “A cell phone will only get you so far out here. But at least they know you're safe.”

“I've never seen anyone talk on a phone that way before. Is it how
die youngie
are doing it these days?”

He chuckled in spite of himself and sat down next to her. “A tip from Junior. He said it was the only way I'd get reception if I got any at all. I've tried making a call on that thing seven times since I left my mammi's house.” He warmed his hands near the flame. “At least we've got a fire. You won't freeze.”

Without warning, he grabbed her canvas bag, turned it upside down, and dumped the rest of its contents onto the floor.

“What are you doing?”

“We're not out of the woods yet,” Gid said, “Literally. I'm taking an inventory of our assets. Didn't you ever read
Hatchet
?”

“I don't even know what you're talking about.”

There wasn't much in her canvas bag: the plastic garbage bag that used to hold her mamm's quilt, the small Ziploc bag for Mamm's Christmas card, and the two apples Felty had given her.

Gid laid them in front of him as if they were gold nuggets. He reached inside the pocket of his snow pants and pulled out a knife, a handful of matches, and a white handkerchief.

“We also have your mittens, a bucket, the lantern, and a tin cup,” he said. “And my snowshoes.” He rubbed his hand up and down her arm. “Are you feeling warmer?”

“
Jah
. It is getting better.”

“Then I'm going to try to get us safely through the night. I don't think anybody is coming for us. They probably think we're staying with Mammi and Dawdi.”

“We could try to make it home.”