An Amish Christmas Quilt (23 page)

“I don't wonder but you'll make her very happy.”

She could have stared at him until New Year's, but she really had to get the stollen into the oven. She stepped down from the sleigh.

“Will I see you tomorrow?” he asked.

Her heart was like to jump for joy. He wanted to see her again? “If we visit the cousins.”

“Then I will pray that your
dat
gets it in his head to visit the cousins. If you don't come, I might borrow Onkel Joe's sleigh again.”

“Only if you promise to go slow.”

He grinned. “I like to go fast.”

“I know.”

Eva came tripping out of the house with a plate in her hand. “Dottie, look! You were so late in coming that Mamm said why don't I go ahead and make the
lebkuchen
.” She held up her plate of slightly blackened cookies for Dottie to see.

Dottie sucked in her breath. “Eva, I told you not to do them yourself.”

Eva lifted her chin and forged ahead, trying to convince Dottie she'd done a good thing. “Mamm wanted me to do them.”

“You left them too long in the oven, and they're all different shapes. And look at the almonds. They're crooked. We only had enough almonds to do one batch.”

Eva's voice trembled. “Mamm says they look delicious.”

“They're all wrong, Eva. I told you to wait.”

With red eyes, Eva pressed her lips together and marched back into the house. How could she have tried to do the
lebkuchen
herself when Dottie had given her express instructions not to?

She turned to Gid, expecting a little sympathy, but instead encountered a deep frown. He didn't frown often. She didn't like it.

“I think she was only trying to help.”

Irritation sliced through her. “But you heard me. You heard me say for her to wait.”

“Your
mamm
won't mind burned
lebkuchen
. She'll probably like them better because Eva tried so hard.”

Dottie was so frustrated as she saw her time slipping away that she turned on Gid, even though she didn't mean to. “How do you know what my
mamm
would like? Have you ever had cancer? Were you ever afraid that the next Christmas might be your last?”

Small lines gathered around his eyes. “
Nae,
but I can't imagine that a plate of burned
lebkuchen
will ruin your
mamm's
Christmas.”

“You just don't understand. All this, all these little things I do show Mamm how much I care. It's got to be perfect.”

“It doesn't have to be perfect. It just needs to be from your heart.” He smiled as if he were teasing her, like he had at Ada's front door yesterday. Did he think this was a joke?

The bitterness rose inside her. She deserved to be taken seriously, especially by someone as arrogant and shallow as Gid Stutzman. “Well, you might not care enough to make it special, but I do. You don't know anything.”

The look he gave her was almost resentful. “No plate of cookies is worth hurting someone's feelings.”

She felt as if he'd thrown a large rock at her, and she was dizzy from his rebuke. He spoke forcefully, as if he didn't care how his words stung.

“Don't for one minute think you know better than I do, because you don't,” she snapped. “You came to town yesterday with all your boasting and bragging. Just because you're so cocky doesn't mean you know everything.”

He raised his hands in surrender. “Okay, Dottie. I'm sorry. What can I do to help?”

“I don't need your sarcasm.”

“Sarcasm? I want to help.”

“No, you don't. You just want to make me feel guilty.”

“Look, Dottie. I think you're wrong with the way you treated Eva, but that doesn't mean I don't want your Christmas to be nice.”

“It will be very nice without you.” She turned on her heels and marched to the house. “I'm wasting time.”

“Until tomorrow then?” he said with a tinge of doubt in his voice.

She didn't answer him as she stormed to the door and slammed it behind her. Tomorrow, she'd be too busy celebrating her perfect Christmas to entertain guests or visit cousins.

And that's the way she wanted it.

C
HAPTER
7

Anna Helmuth slipped into the kitchen chair next to Dottie as if trying to sneak up on her. “How are things coming along with Gid?” she asked.

Gid? What did Anna care about Gid—well, besides the fact that he was her grandson? The better question was, what did Anna care what Dottie thought of Gid?

Dottie glued the last glittering star onto her very special Christmas card for Mamm. She'd attached little rounds of foam onto the card and glued the stars to the foam so they stood out in relief against the midnight-blue paper. At the bottom of the card was the silhouette of a little stable she'd fashioned out of crinkly brown paper. It had taken her an hour to create, but she knew Mamm would be thrilled when she opened it.

Anna's great-granddaughter Beth sat on the other end of the table feeding her toddler. Toby bounced in his highchair, but there was little chance that he would get baby food on her beautiful card.

“Your mamm is going to love it,” Beth said. She smiled as if she couldn't stop if she tried. Dottie had heard that Beth and Tyler Yoder were coming along very well. Like as not, that explained why Beth seemed to float on air.

Dottie glanced at Anna's bird clock. The time was much later than she anticipated. Once she had stuffed the turkey, baked the stollen, and remade the
lebkuchen
, she'd ridden as fast as she could to Anna's to put some finishing touches on the quilt. Even with Beth's help, the little embroidered holly leaves at each corner had taken more time than she'd expected. The hour was late, but Mamm would be delighted, no matter what Gid Stutzman thought.

As far as Dottie was concerned, Gid could find some other girl to scold. What did he know about making Christmas special? She didn't wonder but his idea of “special” was cutting an extra big hole in the ice for fishing and picking the dirt out of his hot dog before he ate it.

He could just take those icy-blue eyes of his and use them to
fer-hoodle
some other girl who didn't mind being teased and didn't care that he had a serious humming disability.

Who needed that whooshing roller coaster feeling every time he looked at her, anyway?

“Do you want to eat supper with us before you leave?” Anna said.

Felty sat in his recliner and perused his paper. “
Jah
,” he said, without looking up. “Zucchini lentil soup will warm you up for the ride home. You don't want to miss it.”

Dottie gave them a tired smile. “They'd worry about me. I didn't tell anyone where I was going.” No one but Gid, and he didn't count because he obviously thought surprises were folly.

Anna went to the stove and stirred the thick sludge that must have been her zucchini lentil soup. “I made enough for all of us.”

Dottie smiled to herself, glad she had an excuse to miss Anna's zucchini soup. Anna was famous for her cooking, but not in a good way.

She ran her hands along the quilt. It was magnificent, if she did say so herself. She'd paired a country-red and a forest-green fabric with two different shades of cream in a log-cabin pattern that seemed to zigzag the entire length of the quilt. Log cabin was Mamm's favorite quilt pattern.

After neatly folding the quilt, Dottie placed it in a plastic garbage bag and stuffed it into her canvas bag with Mamm's Christmas card. “It won't take me half an hour to get home, and if I leave now, I'll only be a few minutes late for dinner. Mamm wants the whole family together tonight. I'm sure she'll hold dinner for me. Six-thirty isn't all that late to eat.”

Anna went to her hall closet and pulled out eight colorful potholders. “Give these to your brothers and sister from me, and tell them merry Christmas.”

Dottie stuffed them into her already-full bag. “
Denki
, Anna. Everybody loves your potholders.” Unlike her cooking.

Felty practically leaped from his recliner, went to the fridge, and took out two apples. “And give these to your pony as a Christmas present.”

“I will,” Dottie said, glad she'd brought a big bag. “Brownie loves apples.”

She put on her coat and bonnet and donned the red mittens Anna had knit for her several weeks ago. She wore sweatpants under her dress to keep her legs toasty. Hopefully, she'd be warm enough for the short ride home.

Anna opened the door. Outside, snow was beginning to fall, but the flakes weren't thick. Dottie wasn't worried about the gathering darkness. She had a flashlight and could navigate the roads between here and her house with her eyes closed.

A wall of frigid, moist air accosted Dottie as she stepped outside and retrieved Brownie and her little one-person sleigh from the barn. Eva and Barty used the sleigh on school days, and Dottie took it when she just needed to make a quick trip to the country store. Brownie, their little Shetland pony, pulled the sleigh in winter or a little cart when the snow melted.

As she headed down the hill, the breeze made her shiver, and Dottie tossed her scarf around her face with a sweep of her hand. By the time she reached the road at the bottom of Huckleberry Hill, the snow swirled like feathers in a pillow fight. Dottie could still see the road by the light of the flashlight, but landmarks and trails were slowly starting to lose their shape under a blanket of snow.

Dottie jiggled the reins and prodded Brownie into a trot. They must get home before the storm got worse.

Brownie slowed down as the drifts deepened and he could no longer trot easily through the snow. She could still see the road, but her flashlight wasn't bright and the coming darkness threatened to leave her driving blind. She might be forced to test that theory about getting home with her eyes closed.

The snow pelted her face, and the icy wind slashed at her cheeks. It had grown a hundred times worse than when she'd left Huckleberry Hill. Why, oh why had she waited so long? Was Mamm's special card really worth the extra hour it had taken her to make it?

Fearing she had missed the turnoff she needed, Dottie slowed Brownie even further. Raising her flashlight, she shielded her eyes from the snow and stared into the void of swirling ice and gathering darkness.

Was that the lane just ahead? It didn't look quite right, but nothing seemed familiar covered with a new layer of snow. She twitched the reins, and Brownie obediently turned off the road.

Dottie could see nearly nothing. Her flashlight reflected off the falling snow and visibility was almost better without it. She occasionally caught a glimpse of the shadow of an aspen and, once or twice, a sumac bush. Although she thought she was going the right way, the trees suddenly became thicker, towering above her for as high as she would see.

Her hands gripped the reins in panic as Brownie kept moving, now plowing his way through the snow. Soon he wouldn't be able to find purchase in the deep drifts. Dottie pulled on the reins, tied them to the bar, and got out of the sleigh. Her shoes crunched in the snow and the wind howled against her ears as she tromped to Brownie and nuzzled her face against his.

“Where do you think we are?” she asked.

Brownie nodded his head and shook the snow off his mane. The wind blew the snow sideways, swirling it around Dottie and Brownie like an arctic tornado. Dottie shivered. Her feet and hands stung with the cold, and her jaw ached from clenching it hard enough to keep her teeth from chattering.

She didn't think she could find her way out of the woods, and if the storm got worse, they would need to find shelter. She tromped back to the sleigh, retrieved her bag, and slung it over her shoulder. She could hardly bear to do it, but going back to Brownie, she pulled off her mittens and unhitched him from the sleigh. Then she grabbed his lead and walked him back the way they had come. Or
was
it the way they had come? The path that seemed so plain just minutes earlier had disappeared as if someone had taken a broom to it.

Using the flashlight to illuminate her path, Dottie strained to see past the snow and darkness for something, anything that might provide a little shelter for her and her pony. It was no use. In this blizzard, she might as well be blind.

Tears oozed from her eyes and seemed to freeze before they made it down her cheeks. She sniffed and pressed her mitten against her face. Tears would do no good. She had to find a way out of this.

Wrapping her arms around Brownie's neck, she bowed her head. “Heavenly Father, Mamm deserves a
gute
Christmas, and no one else can organize it like I can. Please, will You help me get home? I'd rather not freeze to death tonight. Amen.”

She took up Brownie's bridle, but they only went about twenty feet before she realized
that
particular prayer wasn't going to get her very far.

Pursing her lips, she bowed her head again. “Heavenly Father, I'd settle for shelter if You don't lead me home.” Then the most important words. “In all things, Thy will be done.”

She never liked saying that, but tonight she knew she needed to stretch her faith.

The trees seemed to crowd around her, as if there had never been a lane or a road or even so much as a path. Soon, she and Brownie were dodging trees and bushes in an attempt to find the easiest way through the suddenly thick forest.

She stubbed her toe on something hard beneath the snow, probably a rock, and tripped over her frozen feet. She grunted at the pain of the cold that sliced through her sweatpants as she fell into the snow. Her knee throbbed, and she didn't know if she would even be able to stand up again. There was no stopping the tears now. She was going to freeze to death in the middle of nowhere. A sob escaped her lips and was carried away from her on the howling wind.

Something caught her eye as, moaning in pain, she pushed herself up to her hands and knees. A dark mass loomed off to her left. She shined her light in that direction. By what she could make out, it looked big enough to be some sort of shelter. Her heart fluttered as she rose to her feet. If she hadn't fallen, her head wouldn't have been turned in that direction, and she would have missed it.

“
Cum
, Brownie. Let's hope I'm not just seeing things.”

Brownie, as steady as ever, let her lead him along until they reached the structure, which appeared to be some sort of hut.

Looking for a way in, she trudged around the corner and found a door with a knob that turned only after she put some muscle into it. The door protested loudly when Dottie pushed on it, scraping against the dirt floor as she shoved it open and coaxed Brownie inside. Then she forced it shut with a bang, leaving her ears ringing.

Before venturing any farther, she shined her flashlight into the profound darkness. She stood in a barren room, probably ten feet wide by ten feet long, with rough-hewn log walls and a small window with no glass. The snow blew into the window, leaving a drift across the floor.

A doorway in front of her revealed another small room with a light dusting of frost on the floor.

A hunter's cabin.

More like a hunter's shack. But it was shelter. She wouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth.

Even though snow blew in the window, it felt warmer just being out of the wind. She let go of Brownie's bridle and stepped into the second room. It also contained a window, but this one was boarded up so the snow couldn't get in. A small brick fireplace with a metal grate sat in one wall with an ample stack of wood next to it.

A smile tugged at her mouth. She couldn't feel her toes, her sweatpants were soaking wet, and she shook violently, but she had a flashlight, a roof over her head, and a fireplace. God was watching out for her after all.

If she wanted to keep from freezing, she must find a way to build a fire. There was wood but no kindling or matches. And the chimney might be plugged. She had no idea how long it had been since this cabin had been used.

Maybe someone had dropped a match somewhere inside the cabin. Saying a silent prayer, she took off her mittens and felt around the cracks in the fireplace and under the logs. She shook like a dry leaf in the wind, searching the floor and around the windowsills in both rooms.

She found a dented tin cup with no handle, a galvanized metal bucket, and, surprisingly, a worn leather jacket and a flannel shirt hanging on a hook in the room with the fireplace.

Checking the pockets of the jacket, she found three dollars and some sort of energy bar. She opened the bar, smelled it to make sure it was still good, and then fed it to Brownie. He seemed to like it. Something told her the owner of the jacket wouldn't mind if his snack got fed to the pony.

She laid the shirt and coat over Brownie's back. It wasn't much, but it would be warmer than not having anything.

But still no matches.

Even if she had flint and steel, she couldn't begin to know how to make a spark with them, and rubbing two sticks together would be equally futile. Nobody could actually start a fire by rubbing two sticks together—except maybe Gid Stutzman, the person who camped as often as some boys took a shower.

Thinking of Gid took her breath away. Would she ever see him again? Would she ever see Mamm and Dat? No matter how badly she wanted to deny it or how adamantly she had tried to justify herself to Gid, she'd hurt Eva's feelings today. Would she ever have a chance to apologize, not only to Eva but to Gid for being so stubborn?

How long before they realized she was missing? Certainly by now they would be looking for her. But she didn't even know where she was. How would anybody find her?

Jiggling the flashlight in her hands, she wondered how long the battery would last. She sat it on the windowsill in the first room with the light pointing out into the storm. Maybe someone would see it. Panic clawed at her throat and nearly choked her.