Christmas in Apple Ridge

by Cindy Woodsmall

  She should simply nod, but the need to tell someone who would understand pressed in hard. “I lost the notebook.”

  It seemed that grief and disappointment ran through his eyes, and she found a measure of comfort in his compassion for her loss.

  After he’d given her the notebook, they’d spent years going places to get ideas for creating cakes and had filled the book with rough sketches they’d drawn and pictures they’d cut out of cake-decorating magazines. She could feel his laughter wash over her as they went through museums, trying to draw ideas as they came up with them when neither one of them was any good at freehand art.

  He used to take her to Front Street in Harrisburg, and they would stroll along the Susquehanna. Watching the river was what gave her the idea for her rough-ride icing, which was a huge hit with customers. Then the two of them would eat at the Fire House Restaurant, a renovated fire station built in the eighteen hundreds. Between Gideon’s ideas and other sites in Harrisburg, she’d garnered a lot of her cake-making ideas.

  As she sat across from him, remembering so many of their dates, she realized how self-absorbed she’d been. Did they ever do something he enjoyed?

  She looked up and met his green eyes, wanting to acknowledge that maybe she had played more of a part in their breakup than she’d admitted. But she couldn’t say it, not without asking why he hadn’t talked to her about what bothered him in their relationship before he cheated.

  “I guess the notebook was a little like us—years in the making and destroyed in just a few minutes.” Mattie gathered her pans. “Well, I’m just a bright spot right now, aren’t I? I think I’ll take my gloom elsewhere for a bit.”

  Verna hugged her. “You’ll feel better in a few weeks, and you’ll get back on your feet again in a matter of months. You always do.”

  Between her mother’s health issues and Gideon’s betrayal, she’d faced her share of difficult times in life. “You’re right. I always do.”

  Wind pushed against the enclosed buggy, making it rock unsteadily, as Gideon drove toward Zook’s Diner under the dark morning sky. He pulled onto the gravel parking lot, hopped out, and looped the strap around a hitching post.

  The aroma of breakfast foods filled the air even before he opened the glass door. He walked through the tiny convenience store attached to the diner and headed straight to the pass-through that separated the restaurant from the kitchen. The place had the typical look of an outdated diner: cement floors, well-worn Formica tabletops, and a long counter with accompanying swivel chairs. It probably hadn’t had a face-lift in sixty years.

  Roman, a strapping young Amish man a few years younger than Gideon, looked up from his wheelchair. “Finally, a customer!” He grinned. “Aden’s been cooking since four this morning. But it looks like the weekend following Thanksgiving Day is going to be slow this year. What can we get for you, Gideon?”

  Aden, Roman’s identical twin, gave Gideon a brief nod as he stood at the sink, washing pots and pans.

  “I’ll take the house special.” Gideon wasn’t hungry, but how could he fail to support a diner that was so rural it had almost no business on the busiest shopping weekend of the year? The Hertzlers’ store stayed covered with customers on days like this, but Zook’s sat in the middle of nothing, ten miles away. “Five of them, to go.”

  “Now we’re talking.” Roman wheeled himself to the takeout containers and placed five of them in his lap. Aden went to the icebox and pulled out a carton of eggs.

  Gideon figured he could drop off the breakfasts at the Snyder place, where the crew of six men were trying to get the house dried in. Even though some were bound to have eaten already, they would still devour these breakfasts in no time.

  “Aden, I have a proposition for you.”

  Roman looked to Aden and then to Gideon. “What is it?”

  Since Aden struggled with a stutter, Roman did most of the talking for him. Gideon wasn’t sure whether Aden liked it that way or the outgoing and talkative Roman just never gave his brother a chance to speak. But whatever the dynamics of that relationship, Aden stayed in the shadows, cooking, and Roman waited tables and charmed customers. But Aden’s real skill wasn’t as a short-order cook. He was a quite talented artist.

  Gideon pulled his billfold out of his pants pocket. “Remember when you drew some sketches of cakes for Mattie’s portfolio?”

  Aden gave a lopsided grin. “Y-ya.”

  “You heard about her cake shop burning down, right? And that she’s come home for a bit?”

  “We heard,” Roman said. “Is she doing all right?”

  He wasn’t so sure she was. “Considering everything, ya, I think so. But the portfolio, which she’s been adding to since she was a kid, burned in the fire.”

  Aden stopped scrambling the eggs. “I’m sor- sor-”

  “Ya,” Roman interrupted. “He’s sorry to hear that. We both are.”

  Aden flashed a look from Roman to Gideon. Roman nodded. “Oh, ya. So what can he do for you?”

  Gideon rested his forearms on the counter. “I was hoping you could remember some of the things you drew, and anything else you remember seeing in her portfolio, and would draw them again fresh.”

  “Sure,” Roman said. “He’d be glad to. I bet he remembers everything he saw in that book, but it’s been a while since he looked at it.”

  “I’m pretty familiar with what all was in there, so I might be some help.”

  He’d looked at her portfolio several times since they’d gone their separate ways—not that Mattie had a clue. Her brother James did, as well as Dorothy. But he was confident neither of them had ever mentioned his visits to Mattie. She didn’t want to know anything about him, and they respected that. He had no desire to alter the course of her life, but in his pitiful stabs at protecting her, he couldn’t help but keep up with her life.

  Roman rolled his wheelchair out of the kitchen, carrying five takeout boxes stacked on top of one another. “Why don’t you give him a few days and then you two get together and take a look at what he’s got?” Roman went to the cash register and rang up the food items.

  “If that sounds good to you, Aden, that’s what we’ll do.”

  Aden nodded.

  Gideon passed Roman two twenties.

  “What I don’t get is why you’re helping her out. You two ended things years ago—and not on very pleasant terms.” Roman grabbed a roll of quarters and broke them open into the change drawer.

  “Sometimes a man needs to redeem his past. And for the record, this transaction is just between us. When the portfolio is complete, Aden, you can take it or mail it to her, and leave my name out of it.” He eyed the talkative one. “Okay, Roman?”

  “People always think I share everything I know.” He counted out the change and passed it to Gideon. “I can keep a secret just as well as my brother.” Roman pulled bills out of the register and laid them on the shelf above the cash drawer. “Just you—” As the door to the restaurant opened, he dropped his sentence and froze in place.

  Gideon turned to see the distraction. A young woman stepped inside, carrying what appeared to be a very heavy cardboard box. She looked a little familiar, but Gideon couldn’t place her. Her small, circular prayer Kapp and her flowery blue cape dress that showed below her heavy coat told him she belonged to the Old Order Mennonite sect.

  He glanced at Roman and saw insecurity in his eyes, erasing all hints of his outgoing personality. He backed his wheelchair away from the cash register.

  Gideon looked at Aden, and his usual lack of confidence faded as he caught her eye. Smiling, Aden came out of the kitchen and walked directly toward her.

  “Morning, Aden.” She returned his smile.

  Aden took the box, his eyes fixed on hers. “M-m-morning, Annie.”

  Clearly, Aden didn’t want Roman speaking for him when it came to this young woman.

  She lowered her head, a pink blush rising in her cheeks before she peered around him. “Hello, Roman.”


  Roman’s fingers tightened on the hand rim of his wheelchair. “Is something wrong with Moses?”

  Now Gideon remembered who she was—one of Moses Burkholder’s granddaughters. She didn’t live in Apple Ridge, but she came here when her Daadi Moses needed her.

  She took off her coat. “He’s down with bronchitis, but the doctor says he’ll be fine in a week or two.”

  Moses was a silent partner in the diner. Without him, the Zooks would have lost their family restaurant. Aden and Roman’s grandfather had built this place years ago and had run it without electricity. When regulators mandated that electricity had to be installed to meet new legal codes, Moses stepped in and became a partner. Members of the Old Order Amish church couldn’t have a business with electricity, but they could co-own a place with a Plain Mennonite, who could have electricity installed.

  Gideon pondered the opposite reactions the Zook twins had to Annie. Of all the Old Order Amish and Old Order Mennonites he’d known, he’d never heard of anyone crossing the line from one sect to the other—not even to court, much less marry. It was forbidden, and if one of them was interested in her, it could cause a rift between her grandfather and the Zooks, perhaps destroying the family business as well as the years of trust between them.

  If Gideon understood anything about love between a man and a woman, he knew it could grow where it wasn’t planted and thrive without anyone nurturing it—like poison ivy. And it could make a man just as miserably uncomfortable.

  “Roman.” Gideon nodded toward the cash.

  “Oh, ya.” He passed him the money.

  Gideon shoved it into his pocket, grabbed the takeout boxes, and said good-bye.

  Regardless of what was going on with these three, Gideon had his own battle to focus on—the one of avoiding Mattie Lane.

  Mattie sat in Beth’s office at Hertzlers’ Dry Goods, using the community phone to make calls. If Mattie used the phone shanty at home, Mamm would fix her a favorite meal or start making her a new dress. Whenever Mattie was doing business on their property, Mamm was on the move. So each time Mattie thought of someone who’d ordered a cake from Mattie Cakes, she came here to call them and let them know she was out of business, probably until April. She wished she had a better way of reaching everyone, because relying solely on her memory could cause someone not to be ready for a big event.

  Once a piece of information concerning a client came to her—like an address, a relative’s name, or a husband’s first name—she called directory assistance to get the phone number. She dialed Mrs. Gibbons, an Englischer who’d ordered a cake for her parents’ sixtieth anniversary. This was Mattie’s third phone call of the day, and each one was difficult to get through. She explained the situation to her, and just like all the others she’d spoken to, Mrs. Gibbons was kind in accepting that she couldn’t fill the order. But every client asked what caused the fire. When she explained she’d left the place unattended with papers near the wood stove, they seemed satisfied with the answer. What she didn’t tell them was that in her pleasure at seeing Ryan’s excitement over his cake, she might have laid her notebook on the wood stove before leaving the store for more than an hour.

  Being creative was fun. But for her the flip side of creativity was being scattered, and she really didn’t enjoy that part.

  Lizzy quietly slipped into the room and went to a file cabinet. Mattie finished her phone call and put the receiver in its cradle. “Seems to me the more you add on to this store, the busier you get. You’re not getting ahead, Aunt Lizzy.”

  “I said the same thing the other day,” she teased.

  Her aunt always seemed to look a decade younger than she was, but now she absolutely glowed. Lizzy’s dark hair had very few strands of gray, and her sparkling brown eyes said she’d never been happier. Mattie wondered how amazing it must feel to be forty and getting married for the first time.

  Maybe she would be that happy by the time she reached forty. It felt as if it’d take that long, anyway.

  She caught a glimpse of movement across the yard and glanced that way.

  Gideon.

  She’d once loved him—his energy, his sense of humor, his dedication to God, family, and work.

  He had a stack of two-by-fours on one shoulder and a huge bucket of paint, maybe twenty gallons, in his free hand, carrying them as if they were no heavier than an umbrella.

  Beiler Construction belonged to Gideon’s grandfather and then to his Daed, who had several sons, but the business was in serious financial trouble by the time Gideon graduated from school at twelve. Even as a scrawny kid, he poured his energy and heart into the business, as did his brothers. By the time he turned seventeen, no worker was more powerful or capable.

  Over the years she and Gideon had discovered some of the problems Beiler Construction had with supplies, contracted labor, and scheduling projects. She’d cherished those times of talking over business issues while on a date or sharing a meal with his family. She had come up with some helpful solutions, and it’d made her feel valuable to him. And to his family.

  But somewhere along the way, Gideon decided that she didn’t mean enough to him.

  Lizzy followed her gaze. “Is something wrong?”

  Mattie cleared her throat, trying to think of a cover. “Just wondering if the house will be done in time.” That was true enough, wasn’t it?

  “I’m sure it’ll be done sufficiently.”

  Wondering what had caused Gideon to change his mind about her was a subject she’d put away a long time ago, and she refused to start rehashing it now. As long as she was on this earth, she wouldn’t know the answers to lots of things, and that was one of them.

  “Do you have pictures of the types of cakes you’re making these days?”

  Mattie shook her head. “When I find something similar, I’ll show it to you. With the big day in two weeks, I have no time to lose.” She didn’t even have the right cake pans for what she hoped to make for her aunt.

  “I don’t want anything fancy,” Lizzy said. “But I’d like it to be memorable.”

  Mattie suppressed a smile. She heard this sentiment regularly when making cakes for the Amish. “I’ll do just that. And I want your cake to be quite different from Beth’s. What did you have in mind?”

  “Omar’s eyes always light up when people have one of those enormous cakes like you made for your parents’ anniversary a few years ago. I was going to try to make it myself, but since you’re here, I’ll gladly turn that responsibility over to you. Is it possible to make one like that?”

  “Unfortunately, that large pan was charred and warped in the fire. I could bake several smaller ones and put them together.”

  Lizzy frowned. “You can’t keep doing that forever. You need new pans. If you’ll order them, I’ll be glad to pay for them.”

  “I can’t let you do that.”

  “You most certainly can, and I’ll not hear another word about it, or I’ll go straight to the bishop.”

  Mattie laughed. “You’re going to take full advantage of marrying the bishop, aren’t you?”

  Lizzy moved around to Mattie’s side of the desk. She cupped Mattie’s face in her hands. “Seriously, let us replace those pans.”

  She’d forgotten how pleasant it was to be treated special by Lizzy. “Denki.”

  “So where do we buy them?”

  “I don’t know.” Gideon had special-ordered them from a man who’d never made cake pans before. All she had to do was find the courage to ask Gideon for the man’s name and number. “I’ll see what I can find out.”

  “Sounds good to me. I need to get back to work, and you need to get busy finding some answers.”

  “Denki, Lizzy.”

  “It’s good to have you back, Mattie.” She closed the door behind her.

  Mattie didn’t want to ask Gideon for help, but she couldn’t afford to lose time searching for someone else to make the pans. She put on her coat and walked onto the main floor of the dry goods store.

/>   “Hey.” Beth stopped sorting books. “You leaving?”

  “I need to ask Gideon a question, and if he has an answer, I may need to use your phone again. I’m trying to avoid doing business at home because Mamm stays on her feet the whole time.”

  “Come back whenever you need to. If the store is closed, just bang on the door. I’ll hear you.”

  “I’m sure you’re looking forward to living somewhere other than above this store.”

  “I’m looking forward to getting married.” She raised her eyebrows. “Where we live isn’t that important right now.”

  Mattie laughed. “Must be nice.” She waved. “I hope to see you in just a bit.” She left the store and walked across the parking lot and the lawn and into Beth’s new home. “Hello?”

  “In the kitchen,” Gideon groaned.

  When Mattie walked in, he had a large kitchen cabinet balanced between the wall and his shoulder. One hand was stretched up as high as he could reach on the front of the cabinet, his face was turning red, and his arms were shaking.

  “Could you do me a favor?”

  His predicament and his nonchalant question didn’t exactly match, and she found it quite amusing. It was obvious her answer needed to be yes, but something playful in her, or maybe the need to aggravate him, came out of hiding. “Maybe.”

  “Mattie Lane,” he growled.

  She laughed. “Well, what is it?”

  He nodded toward the floor, and she noticed a broken deadman brace. “There’s another one on the back porch.” He gritted his teeth under the weight of the cabinet.

  She ran to get it and hurried back. She propped the T of it as he’d shown her years ago. Then she crawled onto the makeshift countertop and helped hoist the cabinet into place and held it steady while he got one nail in—hopefully into a stud, or the cabinet would fall.

  She closed her eyes while the hammer banged away.

  “We did it.” Gideon rubbed his shoulder. “That’ll keep it from falling while I get the screws in.” He offered her a hand down.