Christmas in Apple Ridge (12 page)

“Busy place.” Derek put the gearshift in neutral. “Uncle Pete might not see this much traffic in a month sometimes.”

Jonah nodded and looked across the street. Long lines of horseless buggies were parked in the field. Two volleyball nets were set up, and young people were laughing while playing the game.

Feeling old and out of place, he flipped the lock. “It looks like the get-together is happening across the road. I’ll be waiting for you in front of that house in two hours.”

“Uh, yeah, I should be back by then.”

Jonah didn’t like Derek’s sudden uncertainty on their agreed timing, but there was little he could do now. If Pete still had a license, Jonah would have asked him to drive here today. But Pete had eyesight issues that had made him give up driving.

With his cane in hand, Jonah got out of the car and headed across the street to the house. The yards—side, front, and back—teemed with young singles. A couple of older men stood at an industrial-sized grill, smoke billowing from it as they cooked what smelled like chicken. A baseball game was under way in the pasture, a portable dog cage acting as a backstop. The late-October air had a nip to it, and everyone had on sweaters or light jackets.

Before he was halfway across the paved road, Lizzy came out the front door of the house. With a platter in her hands, she went down the porch steps and into the side yard. She passed the platter to a man standing at the grill.

On her way back to the porch, she spotted Jonah heading her way. “You came.” Her smile held uncertainty.

“I came. It’s a bit busy around here.”

“Ya.” She stood in front of him, studying his face. “I hope you can come to understand why I did such a deceitful thing.”

He remembered the first time he’d met Lizzy. The earnestness in her eyes and voice were obvious. But did she fully realize Beth could end up more wounded rather than less?

When he said nothing, she motioned for them to walk to a set of chairs. A game of volleyball was being played twenty feet away on one side of them, and at about the same distance on their other side was a game of horseshoes. Dozens of young people stood watching, talking, and cheering.

Jonah placed his elbows on the armrests. “Tell me what you’d hoped to accomplish by having me and Beth write to each other.”

“When we met, you seemed to understand how to deal with loss and pain. She suffered loss, and because of that, she has walled everyone out. I thought your letters might share some much-needed balance and that by keeping your identity a secret, she stood a chance of hearing what someone has to say.”

“And that would make what you’ve done worth it?”

“I hoped so.” Lizzy leaned in. “But I can recognize that it was a careless idea—wrong and hurtful. Even if it’s what I thought Beth needed. Can you forgive me?”

“I have forgiven you, Lizzy, but—”

Her hand covered his.
“Gross Dank, un Gott segen dich.”
Her eyes brimmed with tears as she gave thanks and said, “God bless you.”

“Gern Gschehne. Unfortunately, forgiving you solves nothing.”

“I know Beth will be upset with me, and I can’t imagine what she’ll say or do. But she connected with you through your work, and you two shared letters. How angry can she be?”

“She thinks she’s been writing to a grandfather. Imagine her embarrassment and anger when she discovers you lied to her.”

Lizzy’s mouth moved a few times before she managed to speak. “Did she confide things in you?”

Jonah wasn’t about to answer that. “She had a right to choose who she would turn to, Lizzy. And I shouldn’t have been pulled into this, thinking it was one kind of a relationship. You offered friendship, remember? Then you made me someone’s counselor.”

Lizzy stared into the sky and wiped at several stray tears. “You’re right.”

A flock of young people passed nearby, every bit as flighty and noisy as chimney swifts.

“Is she here?”

Lizzy shook her head. “She’s working.”

The constant buzz and laughter made him wonder what secret was so strong it could keep Beth from embracing life again. “I’d like to get out of this without embarrassing or hurting her.”

A clamor of excited voices caught his attention. A group of five or six girls headed toward them. One glimpse at the girl at the back of the group, and Jonah stopped breathing.

The woman from Pete’s store. The one who’d nearly run into him. The one he hadn’t been able to forget.

As everything he knew fell into place, emotions tugged at him—shock, frustration, amazement, embarrassment, and even honor that she valued his work so highly.

Her deep blue eyes were the most amazing he’d ever seen, not because of their beauty, but because of the unknown riches he believed lay behind them.

“Look who I dragged out of her office,” one of the girls yelled as she tugged on the arm of
the
girl, of Beth.

The games and conversations paused, and people broke into a disorganized murmur of welcomes, claps, and cheers.

“Denki.” Beth lifted her chin and made three circular motions with her hands as she bowed. An uproar of cheers rose into the air. “Denki. Ya, if someone drags me, I’ll show up.” She gave one slow nod. “Now, please shut up and go back to talking and playing.”

Her friends laughed, but most did as they were told. The girls surrounding her slowly dispersed, and the sight of black fabric engulfed him.

She stopped at one of the grills on the far side of the yard and spoke to a man. Then she spotted Lizzy and headed toward her.

What would he say to her? How would he and Lizzy tell her?

Beth stopped before them, lifting a hand to shade her eyes from the sun. “Lizzy, Daed said to tell you the meat is almost done.”

What Jonah saw in Lizzy’s eyes during those few moments explained a lot about her. She loved Beth dearly, enough to take a chance at angering both Beth and him. Lizzy stood. “Honey, I’m surprised you came today.”

Beth shrugged. “Susie and Fannie said Daed asked me to come, and then they proceeded to drag me.”

Lizzy put her arm around Beth’s shoulders. “There’s someone here you should meet.”

Beth looked right at him, and he saw a hint of recognition flash through her eyes, as if she might be trying to place him. “Hello.” The friendliness he’d seen in her when addressing the group was gone; instead she sounded like the businesswoman Pete had told him about.

“Beth.” Lizzy’s voice shook. “I’d like you to meet—”

Noise exploded among the volleyball players. Beth’s brows furrowed, but she held out her hand. Her palm was soft against his rough calluses. He’d thought about this woman every day since seeing her at Pete’s. If he’d stood any chance of making friends with her, Lizzy had ruined it.

“Hi, Beth.”

Judging by the look in her eyes when she shook his hand, she hadn’t heard his name, leaving him torn about repeating it or letting the matter drop for now. It seemed a very inappropriate time to share such awkward and upsetting news. Lizzy didn’t seem to know what to do either.

The volume around them rose again.

“Lizzy, I’m going back to the store now,” Beth said. “Okay?”

“Already?”

“I did as Daed asked.” A captivating half smile graced her lips, and she raised one eyebrow. “Besides …” She slid the letter he’d written from the bib of her apron. After talking to Lizzy on the phone, he’d
had to write Beth again. If he hadn’t, she might think her openness had caused him to stop writing.

Lizzy looked at Jonah. His insides churned like the stew children made when playing—a concoction of muddy water swirling with dirt and debris, only good for pretending. He didn’t want to play make-believe. Never had but especially not now.

With Lizzy watching him, Beth’s attention moved to him too. But rather than showing interest in who he was and why he seemed familiar, her features grew cooler.

She kissed her aunt’s cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon, okay?”

“Maybe.” Lizzy winked at her.

Beth’s lips pursed. “Don’t send Daed or my sisters to come get me after supper. I’m not going to the bonfire. Is that clear?”

Lizzy shrugged. “This kind of gathering where I invite Amish from all over happens only once a year, Beth.”

“Good night, Lizzy.”

He watched her as she headed for the road. “We would have eventually met on our own, you know.”

“How?”

“I didn’t know her name, but I ran into her at Pete’s. He now orders things from her for his store. We would have met properly soon enough. By then she’d be past such grief, and we wouldn’t have all the difficulties you’ve put in our path.”

“You don’t understand.
I
don’t understand. Something changed her, and …” Lizzy shook her head. “I shouldn’t have said that much.
But it wouldn’t have worked—not since Henry. She’s become a brick wall. She’s unyielding when it comes to those who might be interested in her. Are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Interested.”

“I wouldn’t know. Would you expect me to be?”

“You seem a bit intrigued.”

“She’s beautiful. But a lot of women are.” Even as he answered Lizzy, he knew he felt a definite awareness of Beth—had since the day he saw her at Pete’s. And now to realize she was the one his work called to, the one writing him letters. His sense of awe grew.

Confused, he watched as Beth continued to make her way toward the road. She walked backward as a group of girls spoke with her. Each time she broke free of one conversation, someone else called and ran closer to talk to her. He couldn’t help but chuckle. Just as she made it to the road, the man she’d spoken to at the grill, the one she referred to as her Daed, called to her.

Beth turned. As they talked, her eyes moved to Jonah and settled there. After several long moments she looked at the man in front of her, responded to something he’d said, hugged him, and then crossed the road. But she didn’t go inside the store. She walked down a path, opening the letter as she went.

The beauty of the image—huge beech trees holding a golden canopy above her while she read his letter—only added to his confusion. His last letter wasn’t warm or filled with stories, and he regretted that. He’d been trying to be fair to Beth while getting free of
the mess Lizzy had pulled him into, but now he wished he’d been less distant.

Lizzy cleared her throat. “I’m so sorry for what I’ve done, Jonah. I only thought of Beth, and even then I aimed for the insights you had to offer that might help her. I didn’t really think about all the possible emotional ties.”

“I know, Lizzy. Stop apologizing.”

“She didn’t catch your name, did she?”

“Appears not.”

“When I met you, I was willing to do anything to help her. And now I fear I’ve done the opposite.”

“And for good reason.”

L
izzy opened her stove and pulled out a pan of rolls. In spite of her many guests, she’d never felt so alone. She’d held on to her optimism that when Beth learned the truth, it might work out smoothly somehow, but now that she’d witnessed her niece’s reaction to Jonah, she knew it had been a false hope. Beth had shown no measure of openness toward him, and Jonah might find it easier to break through a solid oak door with his bare hands than to remain—or was it to become?—friends.

Lizzy could blame no one but herself, but she wanted a bit of comfort, which meant finding Omar. It was ridiculous to feel this way. She’d been a single adult, running her own life, for nearly twenty years. Whether her decisions were wise or stupid, she’d borne the weight of them without the arms of a man to shore her up. So why was this ache to be with him so strong that she couldn’t ignore it?

Tears threatened, and she grabbed her thickest sweater and slipped out the back door. At the second eight-foot grill, Omar stood without his coat on, basting chicken in barbecue sauce. It seemed a little cool
not to have on a jacket. She moved in his direction, and the crowd of young people filling her yard seemed to fade away.

As if a match had been struck at midnight, she understood a dozen things about herself. She wasn’t worthy to become the wife of a bishop. She’d been meddlesome and used trickery to cover her deceit.

When Omar’s eyes met hers, her composure broke. Tears ran down her cheeks.

He moved to her.
“Was iss letz?”

The concern in his eyes as he asked what was wrong magnified her emotions. She shouldn’t be here, not if they meant to keep their relationship quiet. They’d agreed not to tell anyone until the time was right. Although they weren’t sure when that would be, they knew they’d know when it arrived—like knowing a hayfield was ready or the corn was ripe. Now she wondered if that time would ever come, because it seemed that Omar should be free of someone as foolish as she was.

He turned to Stephen. “Can you watch this grill? I’ll be back in just a few minutes.”

“Ya.”

He placed his hand under her forearm and guided her toward the carriage barn. “Kumm.” He opened the wooden door, and they stepped inside.

She paced back and forth in front of him. “I saw it, Omar. I saw the reason I meddled in Beth’s life. Why I lied to Jonah about who he was writing to. Even why I do these get-togethers year after year. And it scares me.”