Christmas in Apple Ridge

by Cindy Woodsmall

A mouse ran out from under the log, and Levi laughed so hard it was difficult not to fall over backward.

  “It’s not funny!” Sadie smacked him with the flat of her fist. “Geh.” She shooed the creature away as if it could see her antics from deep in the brush.

  “I fear I’d be dead if a mouse had scurried out at any point that night I was thrown from my horse.”

  She studied the ground. “Where’d it go?”

  He winked at Tobias and began searching around while holding her. “I don’t know … wait, it’s on my shoe.” He kicked one foot up.

  Sadie fled from his arms and didn’t stop until she was on the log. “Where?”

  Levi couldn’t stop laughing. He didn’t know which was funnier: the color of Tobias’s face as he chortled or the look of terror on Sadie’s face as she searched for the tiny, furry creature.

  She pointed at him. “I’ll get you for that, Fisher.”

  “I doubt you can top that, Sadie.”

  But he couldn’t deny he looked forward to her trying. They had two months to go. Plenty of time for her to plot against him.

  And for him to foil her plans each time.

  Jonah stretched and reached across the bed for his wife. When he felt only air, he rubbed his hands across the sheets. Cold. Not only was she missing, she’d been gone for a while. He opened his eyes. Rays of golden light streamed through the windows.

  He pushed back the thermal blanket and quilt and sat up. The room was unusually warm for late November. Had Beth been up toting wood and stoking fires while he slept? On a Sunday morning?

  He slid into his pants and house shoes, pulled the suspenders over his shoulders, and grabbed his cane. His bad leg yelped in pain as he hurried down the hall without giving the muscles time to warm up. While passing the potbellied stove in the living room, he held out his hand. Heat radiated from it. That wasn’t the only thing in this house that had an internal fire licking at it.

  He and Beth had argued more than once about this. The last time occurred a couple of months ago when he’d walked into the store after hours and seen her at the top of a six-foot ladder getting something off a shelf. That explosion had been a real barnburner, but he’d won. Or so he’d thought.

  Walking through the sitting room, he saw a roaring fire in the hearth.

  “Beth!” Where was she? They had an agreement—no climbing ladders and no toting anything heavy. “Beth!”

  Through the french doors a flash of patchwork caught his eye. She stood at the railing on the porch, a quilt wrapped around her as she studied the fields. He grabbed his coat from the rack and went outside.

  She turned—steam rising from a mug of dark liquid in her hands. Her raven hair was in a long braid that draped down one shoulder. Her blue eyes were filled with peace and love. “Good morning.”

  Good morning? Was she kidding? “You should’ve woken me.”

  Her smile toyed with his emotions. She deserved his wrath.

  “Look.” She nodded toward the west. Low-hanging gray clouds hovered on the horizon. “I think we may see the first snow flurries of the year today.” He knew she loved snow and all it symbolized, the things that had gone on between them. The fallen tree he’d dragged through the snow and up a ravine before he even knew her. He’d used it to carve a scene on a large base, one she’d stumbled upon in a store, and it’d called to her. It was the reason they’d eventually met. Snow reminded her of the storm he’d rescued her from in the sleigh he’d refurbished for her.

  Despite the memories he held firm to his anger. “I’m not pleased right now.”

  She smiled. “Your little one is leaping for joy this morning. I think he or she senses the beauty of today.” She opened one edge of her blanket, inviting him to place his hand on her round belly.

  He sighed and set his cane aside before stepping up behind her. He wrapped his arms around her and placed one hand inside her quilt. The baby jolted numerous times, kicking or punching as if playing a game. “What am I going to do with you, Beth Hertzler Kinsinger?” The scent of lavender clung to her skin, and he kissed her neck.

  “I don’t know.” She angled her head, inviting more kisses. “Love me? Create a family with me?”

  “Attach bells to you.”

  She laughed. “Do what?”

  “You’ve been good lately, well behaved as long as I’m on my feet, keeping an eye on you. Bells will give me a way to know when you get up.”

  “Ah. I see.” She placed her hand on his as it pressed against her stomach. “Just make sure they’re sleigh bells, and I won’t mind too much.”

  He tugged her, and she faced him. He put his forehead against hers. “Please.”

  “Not even firewood to warm our home for you?”

  “Not even.”

  “You do know you’re being ridiculous and demanding—two things I did not expect from you when we married.”

  He cradled her face, still mesmerized by all God had done in bringing them together. “I’d gladly strike a match and burn down our home, the business, and every item we possess if it meant I could keep you even a little safer.”

  “That’s a bit drastic, don’t you think?”

  “What I think is that you don’t understand. You mean everything to me, and we’re expecting something that cannot be replaced.”

  “It’s a between Sunday, and I wanted to let you sleep.”

  “So your desire for me to get extra sleep matters more than following what your husband feels is important?”

  Her eyes filled with tears. “Not when you put it that way.”

  It wasn’t like her to be emotional, and he knew she struggled at times with the hormones coursing through her body.

  She shrugged. “I don’t believe it’s necessary to be that pampered, but I’ll not tote another thing.”

  “Gut.” He moved his lips to hers, and their kiss lingered. He then stared into her eyes. “Extremely warm outside to be after Thanksgiving, ya?”

  She giggled.

  He opened the door for her to go inside. “So what has you up and moving like this on our off Sunday?”

  “You know.” She took off the quilt and laid it across the back of a kitchen chair. “The indoor picnic Mattie and I planned.”

  Jonah took the mug of coffee from her hands and took a sip. “But that’s not until this afternoon.”

  “Life is too exciting right now to sleep.” She put her hand on her round belly.

  For a moment Jonah saw a tiny bit of what his wife was feeling. Their child’s first steps, first day at school, and first time to ride a horse. It would all take place in the blink of an eye, and he understood her need to soak in the moments.

  But for all the excitement that radiated from her, he couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling nagging at him.

  Nippy air and the familiar aromas of a barn—sweet feed, hay, and animals in wintry weather—surrounded Sadie as she removed the rigging that connected Bay to the carriage.

  Mammi went to the bag of feed and scooped up the dry mixture. “We heard three good sermons today, ya?”

  Church had been at the Ebersol place today, which was where she and Mammi Lee had been since morning. It’d be dark in an hour. Between the three-hour meeting, the after-church meal, and the long afternoon of fellowshipping, Sadie had been gone all day.

  “I’m sure the preachers touched many a heart.” But the truth was, Sadie hadn’t heard much of what’d been said. Then as now, her mind lingered elsewhere. Thoughts of Levi drifted through her nonstop. Reflections of him—their many dates, hundreds of conversations, working side by side to make items for the dry goods store, visits with family and friends—all of it seemed to remain uncomfortably close.

  Mammi’s gait was slow and steady as she walked to the stall where Sadie would lead Bay in a few minutes. Mammi spread the feed into the trough. “Seems to me like you oughta attend a few Sunday meetings in Levi’s district soon.”

  Sadie moved slower than her grandmother as she slid the bridle of
f Bay and attached a loose-fitting harness. Her muscles seemed as distracted as her heart. It was a between Sunday for Levi’s district, and although they spent a lot of time together, they didn’t attend meetings with each other. She wasn’t sure why. “He hasn’t asked me to.”

  Mammi shuffled across the hard-packed dirt, collecting pieces of straw on the wide rim of her flat black shoes as she went. “But you two are going to tonight’s singing, right?”

  She shook her head. “Not this time.”

  “Why?” Mammi jammed the scoop into the dry feed and dusted off her gloved hands.

  Sadie wasn’t sure about that either—except maybe she and Levi both knew they’d grown too close. “I don’t know.” They’d been dating and almost inseparable for twelve weeks. Their time together would be up in a month. Maybe he was laying the foundation for folks to believe they were having trouble.

  But she wasn’t ready.

  She’d let her guard down with Levi, and she believed he’d done the same with her. He’d gotten under her skin, and she didn’t know how to free herself of him. Or even if she wanted to.

  Mammi rested her hand on Sadie’s shoulder. “Everything okay between you two?”

  Tears pricked Sadie’s eyes. “Ya. I … I hope so.” Weeks ago if Mammi had asked that, Sadie would have probably given the same answer, only then it would have been part of the show she and Levi were putting on.

  The soft wrinkles around Mammi’s eyes creased. Her smile held confidence in the situation. “I’m sure how he feels. I see it in his eyes.”

  Did Mammi really?

  That was comforting.

  And terrifying.

  “You coming?” Mammi headed for the small door at the back of the barn. They’d already struggled through closing the double-wide door to keep out the cold.

  “In a bit.” Sadie stroked Bay’s forehead and face, trying to sense what Levi sensed when training horses. It was as if he became one with the animal, seeing and feeling what the horse did, and then worked with the massive creature from its peculiarities and personality.

  Closing her eyes, she let her fingertips caress Bay’s neck. The mare’s skin radiated warmth and quivered under Sadie’s light touch. What must a saddle feel like to one that responded to such a feathery stroke?

  In Sadie’s mind, she could see Levi working a horse and hear his gentle commands. The features on his face altered ever so slightly, and she’d learned which tiny shift in expression meant he was perplexed or pleased or any of the other dozens of emotions that ran through him while training.

  Someone cleared his throat, and she opened her eyes. Levi stood a few feet away, his black felt hat matching his winter coat as he studied her with quiet curiosity.

  Her heart beat faster, but words failed her.

  He moved in closer and placed his hands on the horse’s neck. “If this was your first time getting to know the horse, you’d have to let go of your will.” He drew a deep breath. “Relax, Sadie.” He put his cold hand over hers. “It’s not about what you want from the horse. Release your expectations. Your preconceived ideas.”

  The seconds ticked by.

  “When I’m with a horse,”—Levi moved his fingertips across the back of her hand as if willing her to feel the horse’s heart—“I have to set aside what the buyer has told me or what he hopes to gain. Let nothing get between you and simply accepting this creature for who she is.”

  Sadie inhaled and exhaled, trying to free her mind so she could sense what the horse felt. Levi’s hand was warm now, his breathing less smooth than when he’d arrived. He wanted something, longed for—

  She opened her eyes. “I think Bay is hungry and would like to go to bed for the night.”

  Levi shook his head. “Tobias could’ve come up with that at two years old. Clear your mind.”

  “I did.”

  “And?”

  She eased away from him and grabbed a brush. “I thought we agreed that we weren’t seeing each other today?” Running the brush down Bay’s side, Sadie willed herself not to look up. But she did anyway.

  Levi stared at her, seemingly wanting an answer to his question. “We received an invitation a few days ago from Beth and Jonah.”

  “Ya?” She placed the bristles on Bay’s side. “Then you had the invitation when you suggested we not see each other. Didn’t you?”

  He shrugged. Did he miss her like she missed him?

  He looked at the palm of his hand, the one that had been over hers moments ago. “They had an indoor picnic at their home earlier today. With the exception of you, everyone is in the same church district, so they didn’t have a service today. Gideon and Mattie, Lizzy and Omar, Annie and Aden.”

  “Who are Annie and Aden?”

  “You met them once when we were making a delivery to Hertzlers’. He’s Old Order Amish, and she was Old Order Mennonite, but she’s in the process of joining our faith.”

  “I don’t remember meeting them. Old Order Mennonites can have electricity. Why would she take a step into a harder life?”

  “Because they fell in love, and she wants to be a part of his family, his church, and his business.”

  His words made her mouth and throat go dry. “Oh.”

  Levi drew a deep breath. “Omar, our bishop, has a lot of love for people, and as a bishop he can make it easy and appealing for people to return if they’ve left Apple Ridge or to join their loved ones here to build a life, like Jonah did with Beth.”

  She heard his words, but after he said “fell in love,” she couldn’t pay much attention. Running the brush down Bay’s side again and again, she held her tongue, afraid her voice would betray her.

  “We’ve missed most of it.” Levi fidgeted with Bay’s mane. “But if we go, the gathering will only include five couples. They had an indoor picnic earlier, but tonight they’ll roast marshmallows inside, drink apple cider, and play board games.”

  She moved to the far side of Bay, staying focused on the short red hairs flying as she brushed the horse. What kind of people pretended to be a couple to those they cared about?

  Or were she and Levi only pretending to each other?

  “I guess.” Emotions caught in her throat again, and she turned her back to him and walked to the weathered barn wall where she laid the brush on a chest-high beam. When she turned, Levi was directly in front of her.

  There it was again—that feeling of him wanting something. Hadn’t she sensed this same thing in him for weeks now? She could ask him about it, but as she looked into his eyes, she knew the answer.

  And he wasn’t the only one who’d like to stop their pretend courtship long enough to share a very real kiss.

  Go around him, Sadie. But she stood there, feet planted, staring up at him like a schoolgirl. “What have we done, Levi?”

  “I wish I knew.” He sounded as confused as she felt, but he brought one hand to her face and caressed it. “Still, I think any courtship that’s lasted three months should include one kiss.”

  Her heart turned a flip, wanting the same thing he did. From what he’d told her, it’d be his first kiss.

  He looked at her face where his fingers barely touched her skin. “Seems like when I’m gray, this old bachelor should at least know what it’s like to put his lips against yours.”

  His words were a mix of keeping up their pretense and letting it slip that he didn’t want to experience just any kiss. He wanted to kiss her.

  Is this who they were, only able to share their hearts when pretending they weren’t?

  “Seems like.” She let her response continue their stupid charade, too afraid to let him know that somewhere along the way over the past three months, she’d crossed over from their faux nonsense into truly caring.

  He lowered his mouth to hers. Stiffness greeted her lips, sort of like being kissed by a warm rock.

  “Relax, Levi.” She tugged on the collar of his coat. “Release your expectations and preconceived ideas. Let nothing get between us.”

&nb
sp; He moved his lips over hers again, and in one shared breath, her guard—and his—melted. His arms tightened around her, and as she let herself be lost in his embrace, she pushed away the question clamoring at her heart and mind …

  How would she ever again convince herself that what they had was only make-believe?

  Beth leaned over her desk and jotted down more notes for the morning meeting. In the distance a rooster crowed over and over, grating on her nerves. It’d begun its nonsense thirty minutes before sunrise, and it’d been daylight for about that long too. Wishing it’d stop, she opened a drawer and pulled out a file.

  Her abdomen contracted again. Braxton Hicks contractions. That’s what the midwife had called them. It was a sort of false labor the body used as it geared up for the real thing.

  She glanced at the clock on her office wall, waiting for her muscles to relax. The night had been a long one because the tightness awakened her at least once an hour. Were the contractions getting harder?

  Someone tapped on her office door, and before she had enough air to respond, Jonah opened it. “Everyone’s here, and we’ve cleared enough space for a circle of twenty chairs. You ready?”

  “Soon.”

  “Would you like a cinnamon roll?”

  “No, denki.” Another contraction made her heart rate go wild. It was just December 10. How many more weeks needed to pass before she’d be full term? Maybe she’d calculated wrong.

  Holding that hope, she forced a smile and began gathering her papers. “I’ll be right there.”

  He winked and closed the door, and she swiped the papers and folders off her desk calendar. Today was December 10. The doctor set her due date as January 21.

  Maybe he was wrong. But what if he wasn’t?

  She pulled air into her lungs, wishing she could get a full breath.

  “Beth?” Jonah called.

  She grabbed a red pen and circled the date on her calendar, counting the days until she’d be full term. The midwife said there was a difference between premature and preterm—a vitally important difference. What had she explained? The pen squeaked as Beth marked each day. She’d be full term December 31. That was … nineteen, twenty, twenty-one days from now.