Christmas in Apple Ridge

by Cindy Woodsmall

  “Beth?” one of the Petersheim girls called from the foot of the steps.

  She stopped climbing and went back down the winding staircase. “Yes, Lillian?”

  “Mr. Jenkins is here. He wants to place an order for his store.”

  “His appointment was last week, and he missed it. Does he think it’s for today?”

  Lillian moved to the first step and closed the door behind her. “No. He apologized for not being here when he should’ve. A family illness kept him away, but he’s in the area today and hoping you’ll let him place an order before you leave on your buying trip. I told him you’re leaving in a couple of hours, but that only made him more determined.”

  “Okay, I’ll take his order, but I need to finish packing first. Help him look through the catalog and the display room while he waits, and take really good notes. It’ll speed things along. And please tell him I have to be gone by two o’clock.”

  Lillian nodded and left.

  Beth turned and headed up the stairway. In spite of her best efforts, which began four months ago, she still had too much to do before leaving. Half a dozen calls had to be made, and she needed to sort through her mail before the driver arrived. Right now she intended to finish packing. It wouldn’t do to leave without plenty of clean clothing. It was hard enough to earn respect among the Englischers as a businesswoman when wearing Amish clothing, let alone dirty Amish attire.

  When she stepped into her attic bedroom, she expected a few minutes of solitude. Instead, she found her aunt going through her closet. Lizzy’s youthful face and bustling energy kept her from looking twelve years older than Beth. Her aunt carried a couple more pounds of weight than she had a decade ago, and her dark hair had a few strands of gray, but Beth thought she looked much younger than her actual age of thirty-eight.

  Lizzy motioned at the closet and then faced Beth. “Have you discarded every dress you own that isn’t black?”

  Beth lowered her eyes and studied the pages in her hand. Black hid things—much like ever-darkening shadows in a deep forest. And as odd as it seemed, black helped her carry things too.

  Secret things.

  She tapped the itinerary. “If I’m careful to stick to the schedule, before my three weeks are up, I’ll be able to visit every Amish and Englischer store that we do business with—furniture, quilt, dolls, crafts—you name it. I have an appointment to see each owner, buyer, or manager we’re connected to in Pennsylvania and Ohio.” She held out the updated catalog.

  “It arrived!” Lizzy stepped away from the closet and took the publication.

  “I told you it was scheduled to get here this morning.”

  Her aunt’s dark brown eyes reflected awe as she looked at each page. “Wow, Beth, this is the best one yet.”

  “The community has waited a long time for me to resume traveling, and I intend for this trip to be very successful.” After setting the rest of the papers on her nightstand, Beth stepped around her aunt. She grabbed several dresses from her closet and tossed them onto the bed.

  Lizzy removed the hangers and folded each dress. “Beth, honey …”

  Beth swallowed, her mind racing with ideas of how to avoid the impending conversation—the one her aunt had started trying to have a few days ago. “Mr. Jenkins is waiting for me downstairs, and I have phone calls to make before Gloria arrives. Can you finish packing for me?”

  Her aunt’s frame slumped so slightly Beth doubted if Lizzy even knew it’d happened. After emptying a drawer of her dresser, Beth shoved the stockings and underwear into the traveling bag.

  “Ya.” Lizzy’s brown eyes met Beth’s, and her aunt smiled. “I know you wish you could change the past, but you have to let it go, Bethie.”

  Beth had no doubt her aunt thought she knew what dark cloud hung over her. But she was wrong.

  Beth grabbed the papers from the nightstand and gave Lizzy a quick hug. “Don’t start trying to mollycoddle me again. I think we can all agree that at twenty-six I’m a big girl now.”

  “And I’m thirty-eight, but that doesn’t keep me from needing to hear what other people have to say.”

  “I’ve heard you, Lizzy. You’re concerned, but you’re not hearing me. I’m fine.” She kissed her aunt. “Now help me with my list so I can get out the door on time.”

  Her aunt nodded. “I’ll finish packing for you.”

  “Denki.” Beth scurried downstairs.

  Hoping to stay hidden so Lizzy couldn’t start another difficult conversation, Beth gratefully donated the next hour of her life to helping Mr. Jenkins place an order, then made the necessary phone calls. After sorting her business mail, she was down to her last task—finding where she’d laid her personal mail. She’d seen it sometime last week, although she wasn’t sure what day.

  She stepped out of her office. “Hey, Lillian?”

  Lillian looked up from the cash register, where she was checking out a customer.

  “Have you seen a stack of six or seven letters with a rubber band around it?”

  Lizzy came out of the storage room, reached under a nearby counter, and smiled as she waved the envelopes in the air. “I wondered when you’d miss them.”

  Beth moved toward her aunt. “I realized they were missing this morning. I hope to answer them while traveling.”

  Lizzy pressed the letters against her chest, clearly not ready to give them up. “Gloria arrived. She’s loading your luggage and the box of magazines now and needed a few minutes to reorganize her van. Did you verify your reservations for tonight?”

  “Yes, my dear aunt. You trained me well.”

  Lizzy held out the small bundle of letters. “If these were business related, you’d have kept up with them.”

  Beth loved her aunt like a sister and usually got along with her, but clearly they needed a break from each other. For the last six months, it had felt like they were two old maids bickering back and forth. Lizzy was sure she knew how to direct Beth’s life, and Beth was sure she didn’t.

  Beth simply nodded as she took the letters. Some were from relatives who lived outside Apple Ridge, and some were from friends she’d met over the years during her annual or semiannual buying-selling trips.

  With the rest of her paperwork inside her black canvas satchel, she looped her arm through Lizzy’s and led her through the aisles, around customers, and to the door of the shop.

  When they stepped onto the porch, Lizzy wrapped one arm around Beth’s waist. “You’ll be careful, right?”

  Beth pulled her into a hug, holding her for a long spell. “You drive me nuts, but I do believe I love you more than any niece has ever loved an aunt.”

  Lizzy took a deep breath that spoke of tears. “Are you sure you’re up to this trip?” She put a bit of space between them. “It’s hard to be away from family that long, and you’ll spend more time with Englischers than with Amish.”

  “Months of planning and you ask me this now?”

  In spite of August’s heat, Lizzy’s hands felt cool against her cheeks. “It’s your first time to go since Henry …”

  Why did her aunt insist on stating the obvious? “I know that. I’m fine. I’ll always be fine, if for no other reason than to keep you from taking over my life and trying to run it for me. Do we need to tattoo the words ‘Beth’s fine’ on the back of your hand?”

  “A tattoo?” The male voice behind Beth was clearly that of Omar, their bishop.

  She turned to see his smiling face. His gruff-sounding question didn’t hide the amusement reflected in his eyes. Lizzy’s face flushed a bit as she straightened her apron. Beth swallowed, never quite sure if he was teasing or nicely sharing his opinion.

  His eyes stayed on her aunt for several long seconds, giving Beth a few moments to find her voice. “Uh … well …”

  The bishop laughed. “It isn’t a completely bad idea if it would get somebody we know to stop worrying so much.” His eyes and smile moved to Beth. “But I think it will take more than the ink in a tattoo to do that.�
� He gestured toward the van. “It looks like you’re about ready to leave.”

  His sincere smile should warm her. It used to. But now whenever she was around Omar, her guilt pressed in heaviest of all—maybe because as bishop he might see into her, or maybe because he was Henry’s uncle. Sometimes she was sure he knew her secret.

  The bishop leaned against the porch column. “Your Daed says you’ll be gone for three weeks, give or take a few days.”

  Wishing she knew what to do with her hands, she folded her arms and nodded. At least today if he shook her hand, the sweltering heat provided a good excuse for her sweaty palms. “Yes. It’ll be a tight schedule, but I hope to get it all done.”

  The bishop studied her. “I’m sure you will. You always have.”

  She forced a smile, sickened at how she hid behind a facial expression. “Denki.”

  Gloria shut the doors to the back of the van. “I meant to get ice for the drinks Beth asked me to pack. Lizzy, can I get some from your house?”

  “Sure, I’ll give you a hand.”

  Gloria grabbed the cooler out of the backseat, and the two women hurried across the road to Lizzy’s place. The bishop lifted the weight of Beth’s satchel off her shoulder, and she released it. He went down the steps, and she had no choice but to follow him.

  Her insides trembled, but she reminded herself that no Amish knew her truth. Not even the bishop. And unless Henry returned from the grave to tell, none ever would.

  Omar stopped under the shade of the walnut tree. “Those of us who knew Henry miss him, but we’re doing better.”

  No one really knew Henry.

  Hoping to keep the conversation as light and breezy as possible, she kept her response brief and hoped he took the hint. “I know. I am too.”

  “Lizzy tells me otherwise.”

  She shifted, wishing Lizzy would believe her and stop talking to Omar about it. Her throat tightened. “You know, if you keep this up, we’ll need a tattoo for you as well. It’ll say, ‘Beth’s fine!’ ”

  The man chuckled. “Okay, you’re fine.” He straightened. “Just don’t bring back any forbidden items this trip. We’ve gone that route twice already, and I’d rather not repeat it, okay?”

  “Ya, I know.”

  That was eight years ago. Did he still see her as a teenager? At the time it’d seemed harmless to purchase enlarged photos and canvas paintings Englischers had made of the Amish. Beth had defended her decision by telling Omar she’d hired Amish to make the frames for the items, no Amish person’s face could be seen in any of the settings, they hadn’t posed for any of the pictures, and the items were a sought-after commodity by their Englischer customers. Omar felt that snapping photos as the Amish went about their quiet lives was an unwelcome intrusion and that her allowing such photographs to become a part of her business only encouraged Englischers to be bolder with their cameras. He said if she’d told the frame builders what she planned to do with their work, they wouldn’t have participated. She hadn’t agreed, but he had final say, and she ended up keeping the frames and burning the artwork. She still bought frames regularly and filled them with nature scenes an Amish woman painted for her. Omar was a bit uncomfortable with nature scenes being sold for Englischers to hang on their walls and admire—as if they might fawn over them to the point of worship—but he allowed her to carry the items in the store. The man’s heart was in the right place—she believed that completely—but his ways were more conservative than a lot of bishops’. At times she wondered what life in Apple Ridge would be like if he hadn’t been chosen to be the bishop.

  Lizzy and Gloria came out of her aunt’s house and crossed the street. With the cooler in hand, Gloria headed for the van. “You ready?”

  “Ya.”

  Hoping she’d return home with stacks of orders for Amish goods, she looked forward to what this time could accomplish. It’d been a while since she and Gloria had been gone overnight on business, but through the years, traveling with Gloria made for relaxed and enjoyable trips. Her shoulder-length gray hair always stayed pulled back in a loose bun, and her jean skirts with knit tops never changed with the Englischer styles. She seemed as comfortable wearing the same look year in and year out as the Amish were.

  Beth hugged Lizzy. “I’ll call you in a few days.” As she walked toward the vehicle, the bishop walked beside her.

  “Oh, wait. I almost forgot.” Lizzy ran into the store, and Omar and Beth stopped.

  Omar smiled. “Maybe you should just take her with you.”

  “Uh, maybe not.”

  A look of amusement and understanding flickered through his eyes. Fresh longing to confide her secret rippled through her, but hoping for that kind of friend was as childish as young Englischers wanting a fairy to bring money for a useless tooth.

  The silence stretched between them, and Beth wrestled with her guilt. The store’s screen door banged against its frame, ending the fight.

  “I made your favorite spice cake.” Lizzy placed the tin carrier in Beth’s hands, gave her a quick hug, and opened the van door for her.

  The edges of papers fluttered wildly as wind whipped through the open windows of the van. Securing the order forms on her traveling desk, Beth continued working between stops. Nearly two weeks of traveling were behind them, and despite her weariness she had more orders than she’d hoped for.

  “I’m not sure where that detour was supposed to reconnect us to the highway, but we’re in the backwoods now.” Gloria’s voice barely registered over Beth’s thoughts.

  She finished jotting down the information that danced in her head and then glanced up. The view of the Ohio River had disappeared, and hills with thick trees rose on each side of them. “Are we north of Steubenville?”

  “That much I’m sure of.”

  “How far back did you begin following a detour sign?”

  “Ten miles.”

  “How far since you saw the last detour arrow?”

  “Eight miles.”

  Beth laughed. “I think you definitely missed something. Let’s just backtrack until we pick up that detour sign.”

  Gloria pressed the brake and steered the vehicle completely off the road and onto the shoulder. “I’ll make a U-turn after the cars behind me pass. Sorry about this.”

  “No apologizing, Gloria. You do a great job.” Studying the road ahead, Beth suppressed a yawn. Before a bend in the road, there stood a post with eight wooden signs hanging from it, each one bearing a different store’s name. “I think there’s a small town ahead.”

  Watching the rearview mirror, Gloria frowned. “You actually want to venture off the planned route?”

  “Well, since we already have, and I really could stand to stretch my legs, we might as well look around a bit. We have almost an hour before we need to be at All That’s Amish. Besides, maybe someone can tell us a better way to get there from here. We should only be ten or fifteen miles away.”

  “Okay.” Gloria turned on the blinker and merged back onto the road.

  Once they were closer to the town, they passed a sign that read Welcome to Tracing.

  As soon as they rounded the bend, Beth’s heart rate increased. “Gloria,” she whispered, “look at this place.”

  The town had character, like something out of the eighteenth century—two-story clapboard stores side by side, a narrow main road separating the two rows of buildings. There was a hitching post with a horse and buggy tied to it. Wherever Tracing was in relation to Steubenville, Amish lived nearby.

  They pulled into a gravel parking lot beside one of the stores.

  As they got out of the vehicle, Beth spotted a hand-painted sign that read “Pete’s Antiques two blocks ahead.” An arrow pointed up a side street. For the first time in more than a year, intrigue ran through her.

  Gloria stepped onto the sidewalk. “There’s a café. How about a hot lunch? I’m sure we can get good directions there.”

  Searching for Pete’s store, Beth walked several feet one way and the
n the other. Up a side street and on a small hill stood a cedar-sided building. A feeling she thought had died with Henry stirred within her. “There.” Beth pointed. “I’ll be in that store when you’re finished. We can’t take much time, or we’ll be late for the next appointment.”

  “I’ll bring the van around to get you. Can I bring you a sandwich?”

  “Sure. You know I’m not picky.”

  “Well, not about food or getting lost, but you’re tough on what’s worthy to carry in the shops. Otherwise the van would be filled with samples for the display room by now.”

  “Ya, but I’ve taken a lot of orders, and Pete may be another one willing to buy.”

  Gloria laughed and headed for the café. Beth opened the van’s door, stuffed the order forms into her satchel, and tucked it under her arm. She hurried across the street. The hill seemed to grow longer and steeper as she went.

  Out of breath, she pushed herself to keep her speed as she mounted the wooden steps. The screen door swung open, and a man came out.

  “Whoa.” He chuckled and pressed his back against the door, holding it open for her. “A woman on a mission.”

  Embarrassed she hadn’t seen him in time to slow down and use her manners, she dipped her head. “Denki.” She intended to be polite and keep moving, but when she glanced at his face, his golden brown eyes stopped her cold. Intrigue collided with unease, and she told herself to go into the store. Yet she simply stood. He was in his mid to late twenties, Amish, and clean-shaven, like all single Amish men.

  And something about him had her mesmerized. Did she know him?

  His pursed lips did not hide his smile or his amusement at her gaping.

  Stop gawking and go inside, Beth!

  She cleared her throat, lowered her eyes, and slipped past him. Disobeying the wisdom she’d gained about single men, she turned to see him again. His smile was gone, but his eyes lingered, taking her in as much as she took him in.

  Had they met somewhere? Maybe on one of her trips through the Ohio Amish community? He seemed oddly familiar.