Christmas in Apple Ridge (9 page)
Read Christmas in Apple Ridge Online
Authors: Cindy Woodsmall
His joke did little to ease her discomfort. How had he picked up on that? And what had he written that he decided to black out with a marker?
W
HAT
I
DO WANT TO TELL YOU IS THAT WHATEVER YOU SHARE GOES NO FURTHER THAN ME
. E
VER
.
I
HAD AN ACCIDENT SOME YEARS AGO AND SPENT A LOT OF TIME IN A HOSPITAL
. W
HEN
I
GOT OUT
, I
BEGAN
VOLUNTEERING AT OUR
A
MISH SCHOOL FOR THE DISABLED, AND
I
CONTINUE TO THIS DAY TO SPEND TIME WITH THOSE WHO DEAL WITH PHYSICAL DISABILITIES
.
His life and perspective seemed fascinating. Surely the old man had much in the way of wisdom he could share. Each time she read one line from him, she longed to know five more things.
She opened the cookie jar to see if Lizzy had brought her any goodies today. She had. Homemade chocolate chip. When not cleaning Mamm’s house today, Beth had helped prepare both lunch and supper, but she’d not taken the time to eat much of anything.
Munching on a cookie, she began reading again.
B
ECAUSE OF MY TIME IN THE HOSPITAL AND REHAB
, I
LEARNED THAT JUST AS THERE ARE UNTOLD TYPES OF INJURIES THAT ALL REQUIRE DIFFERENT TREATMENTS, EACH PERSON ALSO SUSTAINS INJURIES TO THEIR HIDDEN MAN—THEIR MIND, WILL, AND EMOTIONS
. T
HEY
’
RE JUST AS REAL AS ANY PHYSICAL INJURY, BUT SO OFTEN PEOPLE SEEK HELP FOR THE BODILY DAMAGE AND IGNORE THE NEEDS OF THE HEART AND SOUL
.
T
HE SPIRIT CAN NO MORE BE IGNORED WHEN IT SUSTAINS INJURY THAN A MUTILATED LEG OR SEVERED FINGERS
.
Not only was the man interesting, but he made her feel safe, like it might not be wrong to feel and think and experience life differently
than most. Was it possible she could share her oddities with him? Her deepest secrets?
Although her outward life matched most every other Amish woman’s existence—from the cape dress and white prayer Kapp to her one-room schoolhouse education—Beth had discovered in the hardest way of all that she didn’t possess the tender yet powerful sense of loyalty and love that women should.
Was it possible she could tell Jonah Kinsinger the truth about herself and he’d actually hear her? understand her reality? help her find forgiveness for her sin?
It seemed possible he could be that sort of a man. Older people often had that capability. Sometimes the most accepting, loving people in a person’s life were their grandparents, only she was unwilling to unload herself on hers. They’d take it too hard. But a stranger? Surely he could hear her without bearing the weight of her shame. And maybe he’d have wisdom to pass on to her, and she could slip free of the dark blanket that lay heavy over her heart.
Excitement, or maybe hope, seemed to surround her.
Y
OU ASKED HOW
I
GOT THAT PIECE OF WOOD OUT OF THE CANYON
. I
T
’
S QUITE A TALE, AND ONE THAT TELLS TOO MUCH ABOUT MY STUBBORNNESS AND NOT ENOUGH ABOUT MY GOOD SENSE
.
I
COME FROM A LONG LINE OF STORYTELLERS
(
YOU KNOW THE KIND: AFTER SUPPER EACH NIGHT THEY SHARE STORIES FROM AS FAR BACK AS THE LIVES OF THE
A
MISH WHO ESCAPED
THE PERSECUTION IN THE OLD COUNTRY
),
SO
I
WILL WRITE THE EXPERIENCE OUT AS MY OWN
U
RGROSSDADDI MIGHT HAVE DONE IF HE WERE AROUND TO WRITE TO YOU
.
S
INCE
I
FAILED TO SHARE ENOUGH OF THE STORY LAST TIME TO SATISFY YOUR CURIOSITY
, I
WILL OVERDO IT THIS TIME
.
S
TRADDLING MY HORSE
, I
PEERED DOWN THE SIDE OF THE STEEP RAVINE
. I’
D BEEN TO THAT SAME SPOT SEVERAL TIMES BEFORE, AND EACH TIME
I
’D ASSURED MYSELF
I
COULD FIND A SIMILAR TREASURE IN AN EASIER PLACE TO REACH
. B
UT THERE
I
WAS AGAIN
.
E
VEN THROUGH THE FALLEN SNOW
, I
SPIED THE TREE
.
D
ISMOUNTING
, I
FELT EVERY PART OF THE FOREST SURROUND ME—THE EARLY RAYS OF SUNLIGHT WORKING THEIR WAY THROUGH THE CLOUDS OVERHEAD, THE MUSKY SMELL OF ROTTING LEAVES HIDDEN UNDER THE LAYER OF THICK SNOW, AND THE MOVEMENT OF CREATURES
I
COULDN
’
T SEE
. (M
OST OF THE CREEPY-CRAWLIES YOU DON
’
T LIKE WERE IN HIBERNATION.
)
A
FTER
I
REMOVED MY CANE FROM ITS HOLSTER
, I
TETHERED THE HORSE TO A NEARBY SHRUB AND WALKED TO THE EDGE OF THE DROP-OFF
.
B
UT HERE
I
STOOD AGAIN, BRACING MYSELF FOR THE BATTLE OF GETTING MY FIND UP THE SIDE OF THIS CRAG
.
H
OURS SLIPPED BY LIKE MINUTES, AND
I
WISHED
I’
D BROUGHT A STURDIER HORSE, ONE
I
COULD USE TO HELP
PULL THE CARGO OUT
. B
UT
I
HADN
’
T, AND
I
COULDN
’
T RELEASE THE LOAD
I’
D PULLED HALFWAY UP THE SIDE OF THAT STEEP HILL
. M
Y BODY MOVED AS SLOWLY AS A BOX TURTLE AS
I
INCHED THE WEIGHT OF MY LOAD UP THE SLIPPERY HILL
. I
CONTINUED TO MAKE SLOW BUT STEADY PROGRESS AS NIGHT CLOSED IN AROUND ME
.
T
HE CRISP SMELL OF A SNOWSTORM RODE ON THE AIR
. B
ARE TREE LIMBS RUBBED TOGETHER AS THE WIND PICKED UP, AND THE RHYTHM OF THE NIGHT SEEMED TO CHANT
.
“G
IVE UP
.”
“G
IVE UP
.”
A
S THE SYMPHONY PLAYED, OLD MEMORIES ROSE TO HAUNT ME
. T
HE THING
I
HATED MOST IN LIFE STOOD BEFORE ME, CLOAKED IN DARKNESS BUT AS REAL AND POWERFUL AS THE LIFE THAT PUMPED THROUGH ME
. I
T WASN
’
T THIS SINGLE FIGHT THAT CAUSED THE WORDS OF THE SONG TO HOUND ME
. I
KNEW THAT
. H
OW MANY TIMES HAD LIFE SMACKED ME IN THE FACE LIKE
I’
D RUN INTO THE SIDE OF A BARN?
B
UT
G
OD AND
I
WERE IN AGREEMENT—EVERY VICTORY WAS WORTH FIGHTING FOR
.
T
HE BAD—AND MOST OF THOSE
I
WORK WITH IN REHAB HAVE HAD PLENTY OF IT—CAN ONLY FIGHT FOR A WHILE
. P
AIN SUBSIDES
. I
NJURIES HEAL
. T
HEN THE DARKNESS GIVES WAY, LIKE A BULLY FACING SOMEONE TOUGHER
. B
UT RIGHT THEN, IN SPITE OF MY PEP TALK TO MYSELF, THE CHANTING INSIDE MY MIND HAD ME RATTLED
.
“G
IVE UP
.”
“G
IVE UP
.”
I
KNEW THAT MY FEELINGS WERE LYING TO ME AND THAT
I
WASN
’
T ALONE. I SHUT MY EYES, WILLING THE NIGHT
’
S CLAMOR TO BE A SOUND IN MY EAR AND NOT AN ECHO OF THE PAST IN MY SOUL
. S
OMEWHERE ABOVE ME
I
HEARD MOVEMENT IN THE FOREST
.
“J
ONAH!” MY BROTHER YELLED, SOUNDING HOARSE, AND
I
KNEW
A
MOS HAD BEEN SEARCHING FOR ME FOR QUITE A WHILE
.
R
ELIEF BROUGHT NEW ENERGY, AND
I
ANGLED MY HEAD HEAVENWARD
. “D
OWN HERE
.”
U
NWILLING TO CHANCE LOSING MY GRIP
, I
KEPT MY HEELS DUG INTO THE TERRAIN
. A
FEW MOMENTS LATER AMOS YELLED MY NAME AGAIN
. W
E CALLED BACK AND FORTH UNTIL MY BROTHER
’
S VOICE CAME FROM THE RIDGE DIRECTLY OVERHEAD
.
“D
U ALLRECHT?
”
“Y
A
. I’
M GREAT, BUT
I
COULD USE A HAND
.” I
TRIED TO SEE MY BROTHER AGAINST THE DARK OF NIGHT, BUT
I
COULDN
’
T
. “D
ID YOU BRING THE MULE?
”
“T
HE DRAFT HORSE
.”
“E
VEN BETTER
. I
T WON
’
T BE STUBBORN
.”
“Y
A
, I’
LL ATTACH THIS END OF THE ROPE TO HIM, AND HE
’
LL PULL YOU UP
. Y
OU
’
LL HAVE TO KEEP YOUR FEET AGAINST THE FACE OF THE CRAG AS MUCH AS POSSIBLE
.”
A
MOS TOSSED ONE END OF A ROPE OVER THE SIDE OF THE RAVINE, BUT IT DANGLED TOO FAR AWAY FOR ME TO REACH IT
.
“U
H
… I’
M NOT STUCK DOWN HERE
. I’
M GETTING WHAT
I
CAME FOR
.”
T
HE SCREECH OF A BARN OWL CAME FROM NEARBY, AND ANOTHER ONE RESPONDED, BUT MY BROTHER REMAINED QUIET FOR A LONG MINUTE
.
“F
INE
,” A
MOS FINALLY GRUMBLED
. “W
E WON
’
T LEAVE WITHOUT YOUR PRECIOUS STUMP
. T
HAT
’
S WHY YOU CAME OUT HERE ALONE, WASN
’
T IT
? Y
OU NEED A BETTER HOBBY
.” A
MOS PULLED THE ROPE UP AND TOSSED IT AGAIN, AND THIS TIME IT LANDED WITHIN INCHES OF ME
. H
E BEGAN MUMBLING, BUT HIS VOLUME ASSURED ME HE MEANT EVERY WORD TO BE HEARD
. “T
HE BEST-LOOKING ONE OF THE LOT
,
YOU ARE
. I’
VE BEEN TAKING YOUR SIDE AGAINST THE CONCERNS AND COMPLAINTS OF THE WOMENFOLK FOR YEARS
. A
ND THIS IS HOW YOU SPEND YOUR DAYS
? Y
OU NEED A WOMAN!
”
“I
NEED WHAT
’
S ON THE OTHER END OF THIS ROPE
.” A
LTHOUGH
I
DIDN
’
T KNOW WHY, MY GUT SAID IT WAS SPECIAL
. I
STUDIED THE DANGLING ROPE BEFORE ME AND THE ONE IN MY HAND, TAUT FROM THE STRESS OF THE LOAD IT HELD
. “H
EY
, A
MOS, DID YOU HAPPEN TO BRING TWO DRAFT HORSES?
”
H
E HADN’T, BUT WE GOT THAT TREE UP THE SIDE OF
THE STEEP HILL, AND SOON THE HORSE WAS DRAGGING IT OVER SNOWY FIELDS
. A
ND IF LIFE ENDS BEFORE
I
MAIL THIS LETTER OR LASTS ANOTHER THIRTY YEARS
, I’
LL ALWAYS BE GRATEFUL THAT PIECE HAS BEEN A BRIDGE FROM YOUR WORK TO MINE
.
Y
OUR FRIEND
,
J
ONAH
Beth’s heart thumped like mad, begging for more as she imagined every step of his story. What a beautiful way to share his experience, though the adventure sounded awfully dangerous for a man his age.
She pressed the letter to her chest. He didn’t just carve life out of stumps of wood; he carved it into her soul.
Drawing a deep, relaxing breath, she caught a fresh glimpse of the box on the kitchen table. She’d been so interested in reading his letter and so fixed in his words, she’d forgotten about the accompanying gift. Lifting it, she noticed two things: Lizzy hadn’t opened it, and Jonah had written a note that read: “From the same tree as the carving you bought.” Beth removed the brown paper wrapping and opened the cardboard box.
Inside lay a hand-carved gift box. The image he’d carved thrilled her. She clutched it against herself and hurried down the steps, then ran across the road and let herself in at Lizzy’s. The bishop sat across the table from her aunt with a cup of coffee in his hand. Papers were spread on the table between them.
It took only a brief glance to remember her aunt was planning her annual communitywide dinner, dessert, and hayride. Each year she invited all the Amish singles from communities far and wide to come. Those who lived a good distance away would stay for at least one night, often two. For all Lizzy’s years of living single, she seemed to have matchmaking in her blood, and many a couple had found each other through these events.
Too excited to ask how the plans were coming, Beth thrust the box toward Lizzy. “Look.” She cleared her throat, trying to regain some sense of calm. “Look at what Jonah carved. Did you tell him?”
A look passed between her aunt and the bishop, but Beth didn’t care if he minded that Jonah had sent her a carved gift.
Lizzy’s eyes brimmed with tears even before she looked at the item. “Tell him what?”
“Is something wrong?” Beth glanced at the bishop.
“The excitement in your eyes and voice.” Lizzy rose and cupped Beth’s cheeks between her hands. “That’s all.”
Realizing anew how her sorrow and guilt grieved Lizzy too, Beth hugged her. She’d tried to spare her aunt as much as she could with her silence, but it must not have been enough.
As Beth stepped back, Lizzy wiped the tears from her face. “Let’s see what has you glowing.” Her aunt peered inside the cardboard box and touched the carved sleigh and its two riders. “No, Beth, I didn’t tell him.”
Beth brushed her finger along the side of the sleigh. “He even carved sleigh bells just like the etched bronze ones I love so much.”
“What didn’t your aunt tell him?” Omar asked.
Beth took the box with her as she moved to a kitchen chair. “I know you remember when my family could barely keep food on the table.”
“I remember. Blessings galore but hardly any money.”
“Well, whenever Daed asked what I wanted for Christmas, I always wanted a sleigh ride. But we didn’t own a sleigh, and he must not have known anyone who did, because year after year Christmas came and went without me getting a sleigh ride.”
