Patricia Davids Christmas Brides of Amish Country: An Amish ChristmasThe Christmas QuiltA Hope Springs Christmas

by Patricia Davids

  A young boy’s voice answered, “The roof just fell in. You should’ve seen the sparks fly.”

  Rebecca didn’t share young Kyle’s sense of excitement. She wished the news had been better. “Are you sure my daadi is all right?”

  “He’s fine, but Adrian says the shop can’t be saved. They’re still trying to keep it from spreading to Reuben’s house and some others.”

  Adrian Lapp, Kyle’s stepfather, was one of the volunteer firefighters. Word had spread slowly since most Amish families lived without telephones, but within an hour men from miles around were pouring in to help. The street in front of the inn was lined with buggies and hastily saddled horses.

  Vera said, “It’s a blessing there is so much snow on the roofs. It may help stop the fire from spreading.”

  “Has anyone been hurt?” Naomi asked.

  Kyle said, “I seen Dr. White and his nurse taking care of somebody. Don’t know who it was.”

  Rebecca screwed the lid on the thermos she had just filled and handed it to Kyle. “Have you seen an Englisch fellow named Booker?”

  “Maybe. There’s lots of Englisch there, too. I got to go.” The slamming of the back door told Rebecca he was gone.

  “I’m sure Booker is fine.” Vera patted Rebecca’s hand.

  A few moments later, the back door opened again. “Naomi, have you any more cups?” This time it was Faith Lapp, Kyle’s mother. Although she and her adopted son were new to the area, they had quickly become well-loved members of the Hope Springs community. Perhaps she had more information. Naomi said, “Ja, I have stacks of foam cups in the pantry. I’ll get them.”

  Rebecca asked, “Faith, could you check on a man named Booker for us? He has been staying at the inn. He’s the one who spotted the fire and we haven’t heard from him since.”

  “Of course. I’ll send Kyle with news when I have it. Is he the fellow that bought your quilt?”

  “Ja.” Rebecca prayed he was safe. Why hadn’t he come back?

  She heard Naomi return. “Faith, I have extra blankets and quilts if you need them. I have empty rooms, too, if someone needs a place to stay.”

  “Danki, at least four families have had to evacuate their homes. I will see if they want to bring the children here. The men are busy trying to save what furnishing they can.”

  “Has anyone been hurt?” Vera asked. Rebecca held her breath waiting for an answer.

  “A few minor burns. Your father breathed in too much smoke, but the doctor says he will be fine. Someone pulled him out of the building in the nick of time.”

  “Praise the Lord.” Vera’s voice broke and she started to cry. Rebecca slipped her arms around Vera’s shoulders to offer what comfort she could.

  Faith’s voice softened. “His wife was busy scolding him for his foolishness when I left.”

  Vera sniffed once and chuckled. “My stepmother is a wise woman. Better than Papa deserves. God is goot.”

  “Ja. He has been merciful tonight,” Faith added.

  The sound of the back door closing told Rebecca Faith was gone.

  “I should gather those blankets together in case they are needed,” Naomi announced.

  “Let me get them,” Rebecca offered. She needed to keep busy.

  “The linen room is the last door on the left at the end of the hall upstairs. Any of them will do.”

  “I’ll find them.” Rebecca made her way upstairs and located the room without difficulty. The linens were stored on open shelves, making it easy for her to find blankets by feel. Gathering a large armload, she started back down the hall. Suddenly, she caught the sharp smell of smoke and soot.

  She stopped in her tracks. A second later, she heard muffled footsteps. “Is someone there?”

  “Just me.”

  His harsh whisper sent joy leaping through her chest. “Booker, are you all right?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “You smell terrible.”

  “Like charred barbecue?” His laugh turned into a cough.

  “Are you truly okay?” She tried to tell herself she was worried about everyone who was battling the fire, but the truth was she cared about Booker more than she should.

  “I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.”

  She was thankful for the load of blankets in her arms. They kept her from reaching out and “seeing” for herself with her hands that he was unharmed. Gripping the stack tighter, she asked, “Is the blaze out?”

  “Not out but under control. A second fire company arrived from Sugarcreek. They sent a lot of us home.”

  “My grandfather?”

  “He’s one tough old bird. His house was damaged, but it won’t take much to repair. He and his wife are downstairs. I think they plan to stay here tonight.”

  “I heard his shop is completely gone.”

  “Ja.”

  She smiled. “Ja? You’ve been hanging around us Amish too long.”

  “Maybe so.”

  An awkward silence stretched between them. She shifted the load in her arms. “Are you leaving tomorrow?”

  “That’s the plan.”

  “Back to soaring with the birds?”

  “Something like that.”

  She nodded. He had to leave sooner or later. She had to stay. Drawing a deep breath, she said, “I need to get these downstairs. Come down when you’ve cleaned up and I’ll fix you a sandwich and some tea.”

  “I’m not hungry. I just want to turn in.”

  “Of course. We owe you a debt of gratitude, Booker. Had you not seen the fire when you did, lives may have been lost.”

  “It was nothing.”

  “God brought you here for a reason. I think this was it.”

  She heard him sigh. Quietly, he whispered, “Good night, Rebecca.”

  “Guten nacht, Booker. Sleep well.”

  She heard the door to his room open and close. She stood in the hall for another minute to compose herself, then she went downstairs to join her family.

  “I owe you much, Booker.” Reuben Beachy stroked his beard and then pushed the brim of his dark hat up with one finger.

  “Next time run out of a burning building instead of into it.” Gideon’s voice was making a comeback. He sounded almost like himself this afternoon. He would have to be careful if he spoke to Rebecca again.

  He could see her working along the women who were helping sort and clean the merchandise he and Reuben had carried out before the roof fell in. The memory of the smoke burning his lungs and eyes as he dragged out tools and materials was one he’d rather forget. He glanced down at the bandage on his left arm. He would always have a scar to remind him of his visit to Hope Springs.

  All morning long teams of horses and wagons had hauled away loads of charred debris. By noon the old foundation stones of the building had been washed down and made ready to bear a new structure. After that, wagonloads of lumber and building materials began to arrive along with several truckloads donated by the local lumberyard. The sounds of hammers and saws echoed off the surrounding buildings. Everyone, Amish and English townspeople alike, were pitching in to help one of their own recover from a disaster.

  Well over fifty men continued working in the cold afternoon air while the women supplied them with hot drinks and food of every sort from roast pork sandwiches to chocolate chip cookies and whoopie pies. The army of denim-clad Amish farmers and carpenters in black hats and tool belts swarmed over the site like bees over a honeycomb. By four o’clock the skeleton of a new building was rising against the blue sky.

  As Gideon stood beside Reuben, two dozen of Reuben’s Amish neighbors prepared to lift a twenty-five-foot beam into the building they were raising where only ashes lay the night before.

  When the beam settled safely into place, Reuben turned to Gideon. He cleared his throat. “I misjudged you, English. I warned my granddaughter against you. I would do so again, but I would not mistrust your motives in being kind to her. I owe you my life.”

  Reuben’s unconscious body was t
he last thing Gideon had carried out of the burning shop. It had been a close call. “You are concerned about Rebecca. I understand and respect that. I’m just sorry you lost your business.”

  “So ist das Leben. Such is life!” Reuben declared. “I am a man blessed.”

  “How can you say that when all you worked for is gone?”

  “Look about you. Why should I feel sorrow? My children and grandchildren, my friends and my neighbors are here to help. I could not survive without them or without my faith in God. The things I lost are merely…things. I do not worry about tomorrow—too much. That is in God’s hands.”

  Someone called Reuben away. Gideon knew that within a week Reuben would be open for business again. It might take him a while to replace his large inventory and machinery, but he wasn’t the kind of man to quit because things were hard.

  Gideon took his time getting back to the inn. When he stepped inside, he saw Adam carrying a pair of suitcases. Approaching his cousin, Gideon said, “Adam, I need you to do something for me.”

  “I go out of town for two days and look what happens. I understand we have you to thank for spotting the fire before it had a chance to spread. God was with you. How is Reuben?”

  “He’s tough. He’ll get through this.”

  “What can I do for you?”

  “I want to give Rebecca’s quilt to you. I want you to sell it again and give the money to Reuben to help him rebuild.”

  “That is a generous thing, Gideon.”

  “It’s the least I can do.”

  “My wife and I are leaving this evening to visit your folks for a few days and share our good news.”

  “What news?”

  “We are expecting our first child.”

  “Wow. Congratulations. That’s wonderful.”

  “I would be happy to take a letter to your mother, if you’d like to write one.”

  Gideon met Adam’s gaze. Maybe it was time he tried making amends. A letter to his family would be a good place to start. “I would appreciate that.”

  Adam’s eyes brightened. “You mean it? You will write?”

  “I’m not sure what I will say.”

  “Say what is in your heart, cousin.”

  “I’ll try.”

  Thirty minutes later, Gideon met Adam in the lobby again. He laid an envelope on the front desk and shoved his hands in his pockets. “It’s a long overdue apology. I expect my mother will cry.”

  “This is a good thing, Gideon.”

  “If I went for a visit, do you think I could meet my nephews and nieces?”

  “I will ask. Those that have not been baptized are free to speak with you.”

  “Only if their parents let them.”

  “As I said, I will ask. And I will tell them the good you have done here.”

  The letter wasn’t much, but it was a start. Gideon tried not to get his hopes up, but the thought of seeing his family again suddenly made him as homesick as he’d been the first week after he left.

  Rebecca was right. He’d been hanging around the Amish too long. Their focus on God, family and community had him realizing how shallow his life was. He heard the front door of the inn open. He looked over as Rebecca walked in. The sight of her lifted his spirits.

  She carried a large woven hamper with one arm. Gideon rushed toward her. “Let me give you a hand with that.”

  “Danki, Booker.” She smiled at him as if she could see him.

  His heart turned over in his chest. If he told her the truth, confessed his sins and begged her forgiveness, could he have the life he once turned his back on? Could he find happiness living among the Amish? Was this what God wanted for him?

  To return to the Amish would mean giving up flying. How could he do that? If Rebecca knew the truth could he convince her to leave this life behind? What did she have? A close family, yes, but not children, not a husband. She deserved more.

  Tell her. Tell her who you are.

  Before he could open his mouth, his cell phone rang. Annoyed at the interruption, he pulled it out intending to silence it. When he saw the number was Roseanne’s home phone, he frowned. He snapped open the phone. “What’s going on, Roseanne?”

  “Gideon, how soon can you get back here?”

  “I was thinking about staying a few more days.”

  “No. You have to come back now.”

  A pit of fear formed in his midsection. “You’re scaring me, Roseanne. What’s wrong?”

  “It’s Craig. His plane is missing. He left here five hours ago and never reached his destination. He hasn’t been heard from since he took off.”

  Chapter Seven

  Rebecca listened to Booker rattling off instructions to the person on the phone. She wasn’t sure what was wrong but she heard the distress in his voice. When he ended the call, she asked, “What has happened?”

  “My partner has been making flights that I was supposed to make so I could stay here. Now the plane is missing. If anything has happened to him…” His voice trailed off.

  “I pray he is safe, but he is in God’s hands. You must not despair.”

  “I’ve forgotten what that is like.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Accepting that everything is God’s will. I’ve forgotten what that’s like. I have to get back to Rochester.”

  “The Lord is our strength and our salvation, Booker. Lean on Him, for He loves all His children. Though we may not understand His plan for us, never doubt that He has one.”

  “I want to thank you, Rebecca.”

  “For what?”

  “Let’s just say for helping me realize some important truths. I wanted to say more, but to explain would take more time than I have now. I guess it wasn’t meant to be. I’ve got to get going.”

  His voice was stronger today and more familiar. How was it that he seemed to grow more important to her with each passing minute? She listened to his footsteps bounding up the stairs. He would be gone as soon as he could pack and she would never spend time with him again.

  “Is something wrong?” Adam asked. She hadn’t heard him approach.

  “Booker has to leave. His friend is in trouble.”

  “Is there anything we can do?”

  “No, he is going home.”

  A car horn honked outside. Adam called out, “Emma, our driver is here.”

  “Coming.” The rapid tapping of sturdy heels on the plank floor signaled Emma’s approach. Breathlessly, she asked, “Did you tell Rebecca?”

  “Tell me what?”

  “The fellow who bought your quilt had donated it to help raise money for your grandfather. What a nice man he is. He reminds me of you, Adam.”

  “Come,” Adam cut her short. “We mustn’t keep the car waiting.”

  “All right. Goodbye, Rebecca. It was wonderful having you and your aunt here. I only wish we could have spent more time together.”

  “Goodbye. Have a safe trip,” Rebecca called after them as they left.

  Quiet filled the lobby. Rebecca listened for the sound of Booker coming down, but heard only the quiet ticking of the grandfather clock.

  Would Booker think of her sometimes when he was gone from this place? He would have nothing to remember her by. He had given her quilt away.

  She would have liked to think of him wrapped up in the comfort of her creation. She was sorry he decided to part with it, but she was thankful for his kindness toward her grandfather.

  The clock began to strike the hour.

  What was she thinking? Booker might not have the quilt from the auction, but he could still have one of hers. She’d finished her Christmas Star quilt late last night, placing her signature in Braille with French knots in the last square as she did with all her quilts. She knew God would direct her gift where it was needed the most.

  She crossed the lobby quickly and found the stairs with her cane. Tucking her stick under her arm, she hurried up the steps.

  The quilt was where she had left it, folded neatly in
a box beside her bed. She lifted the lid of the box and ran her hand across the folded fabric.

  She tried to imagine how it must look. Her aunt told her it was made up of green, red and gold colors that formed a many-pointed star on a cream background. She tried to imagine it but her memory of colors was fading. Was the green the color of spring grass or the color of the summer woods?

  It didn’t matter. All that mattered was that her work brought joy or comfort to someone. To Booker. Gathering it in her arms, she started toward the door but paused with her hand on the cool metal knob.

  Would he accept it? It was a valuable item in his eyes. He’d paid dearly for her previous work.

  Perhaps he would think she was too forward in giving him such a gift. It was forward and unlike her.

  She heard the sound of a door opening across the hall. It was now or never. Either she could let Booker walk away or she could open the door. The choice was hers. She took a deep breath and turned the handle. “Booker, is that you?”

  She stood waiting for an answer. She knew he was in the hall with her. She could smell his cologne, she could hear his breathing. Why didn’t he speak?

  Gathering her courage, she took a step closer. “I have something for you.”

  “Why are you doing this?” His raspy voice held a note of pain.

  “Doing what?” Hurting him was the last thing she wanted to do.

  “Why are you making it so hard for me to leave?”

  “I didn’t realize I was.”

  “If only this had been another place, another time.”

  He stepped closer. She knew if she stretched out her hand she could touch him. She locked her fingers together beneath the quilt she held. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Yes, you do. You are woman enough to know exactly what I mean. You feel it, too, this bond we have.”

  She did feel it, but she could never admit it. She smiled sadly. “Another time and another place would not have mattered, Booker. You come from a world I could not inhabit. I live where everyone’s feet are planted firmly on the earth.”

  “I would stay, but my friend needs me.”

  “Go to him. I belong here.”