Patricia Davids Christmas Brides of Amish Country: An Amish ChristmasThe Christmas QuiltA Hope Springs Christmas

by Patricia Davids

“I know. Danki. Hello, Rebecca.” The stranger smiled warmly at her.

  “Jonathan, how are you?”

  “Cold. And you?”

  “The same.”

  Gideon could tell by the tone of her voice that she was friends with this man. Close friends? How close?

  He turned his back to the group. He was an intruder in their circle. An outsider. He had no reason to be jealous of Rebecca’s friendship with this man, but annoyance pricked at him anyway.

  When Reuben and Jonathan took their collars outside, Gideon moved to stand by Rebecca. “Your friend looks Amish but he doesn’t sound Amish.”

  “He was Englisch, but he has chosen to live among us and become one of us.”

  “That is a rare thing.”

  “Ja, it is. He has lived here for a year now and his Pennsylvania Dutch is pretty good. I think he will ask to be baptized soon.”

  “And then what?”

  She leaned toward Gideon and whispered, “Hopefully, there will be a wedding in the fall.”

  “Yours?”

  She straightened abruptly. “Nee. Jonathan is not courting me. He has his eye on my friend, Karen Imhoff.”

  Gideon was hard put to explain the rush of relief that filled him. “And does she have her eye on Jonathan?”

  “Most definitely. Are you ready to go?”

  “Where to next?”

  “I am done with my errands, so it is back to the inn.”

  He didn’t want their morning to end. “Do we really have to go back?”

  He watched the uncertainty flit across her face. An instant later, her uncertainty vanished. “There is no rush. Do you have any shopping you would like to do?”

  “I’ll think of something.”

  Suddenly, a loud scraping noise reverberated through the building. Rebecca took a step closer to him and grasped his jacket sleeve. “What was that?”

  “My guess? Snow and ice sliding off the roof.” He covered her hand with his.

  She relaxed and pulled her hand away slowly. “Of course, how silly of me to be frightened.”

  “Don’t apologize.”

  Clearly flustered, she said, “I really should get back. My aunt will be waiting for me. We…we have plans for today.”

  It took all his willpower to step away from her. “I understand.”

  They crossed through the store to the back door, but when she tried to open it the door barely moved. “There’s something blocking it.”

  He put his shoulder against it and pushed. It budged a few inches, enough for him to see it was snow blocking the door. The pile was at least four feet deep. “Looks like this is where the snow from the roof landed.”

  “We can go out the other way.”

  They returned to the front of the store. Jonathan had gone. Reuben was placing a number of bills in his cash register.

  Rebecca said, “Daadi, the back door is blocked.”

  “I heard the avalanche. I will take care of it.” Reuben sighed and moved to pick up a snow shovel by the front door.

  Gideon stepped forward and took hold of the tool. “Let me do that for you.”

  Reuben frowned at him. “I can shovel a little snow.”

  “I can, too.” Gideon grinned. The man must be close to eighty years old.

  Reuben relinquished his hold. “Danki, Booker.”

  Gideon turned to Rebecca. “You should go back to the inn. I can find my way. I was only teasing you about being lost.”

  Her lips curved slightly. “I know. I don’t mind waiting.”

  After Gideon left the building, Rebecca’s grandfather spoke to her in Pennsylvania Dutch. “How well do you know this Englisch fellow?”

  “We only met at the auction, but he has been most kind.”

  “Do I need to put a word of caution in your ear?” Reuben asked in a firm tone he rarely used with her.

  Her pleasure dimmed. “No, Daadi, I know what is proper.”

  “I’m happy to hear that. Do not be fooled by his interest.”

  “I don’t know what you mean.” She did, but she didn’t want to hear it put into words.

  “You are a lovely woman. He is an outsider, stuck in our little town until the roads are clear. Do not be flattered by his attention. It will vanish when the roads are open.”

  Was she so pathetic? Tears pricked at the back of her eyes. “Is it wrong to show him kindness after all he has done for me? We took a walk through town. Nothing else.”

  Pressing her lips together, she waited for her grandfather to respond. How could it be wrong to enjoy a stroll with Booker? She knew nothing could come of the relationship. He made her feel special. He made her smile. Didn’t she deserve a few hours of enjoyment?

  “You are a grown woman with a goot head on your shoulders. I don’t wish to see you hurt.”

  “When Jonathan came among us you were not suspicious of his motives.”

  “Jonathan was a man with no memory. He didn’t know his own name. It was clear God brought him to us so that he might be healed in body and soul.”

  “Perhaps God has such a reason for bringing Booker here.”

  “That may be true, but Booker looks more like a man with something to hide than a man looking to find God’s will.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “There is something about the way he doesn’t look a man in the eye.”

  “Perhaps he’s shy. Maybe he feels uncomfortable because we look at him with suspicion.” She felt compelled to defend Booker.

  “Perhaps you are right and I am wrong to judge him harshly. ‘It is better to suffer wrong than to do it.’”

  “‘And happier to be sometimes cheated than to never trust.’” She finished the proverb for him.

  “All I’m trying to say is be careful, child.”

  “I will be, Grandfather. Don’t worry.”

  Harness bells chimed as the front door opened. When the new arrival called a greeting in Pennsylvania Dutch Rebecca knew it wasn’t Booker returning.

  The customer was shopping for a new halter. Rebecca waited by the counter as her grandfather went to help him.

  She had always heeded her grandfather’s counsel, so why was she unwilling to do so now? He thought it unwise of her to spend time with Booker. One day spent in the company of a man who found her companionship pleasant. Where was the harm in that?

  She knew. She didn’t want to admit it, but she knew. The harm was in wanting more than one day with such a man.

  She had been foolish. It was time to go back to the life she was meant to lead. Skating on thin ice would only lead to a cold bath.

  “Tell Booker that I changed my mind. I’ve decided to return to the inn after all.”

  “That is a wise decision, child. Give Vera my love and tell her you are both invited to supper come Sunday.”

  “I’m afraid we have other plans.”

  “Oh?”

  “Daniel Hershburger has already invited us to eat with him and his sister.”

  “Has he, now? Well, well. He is a fine man, a devout man. I’m glad to hear this. You and Vera must come by some evening when you are free. Why don’t you invite Daniel, too? I haven’t had a good game of checkers in a long while. What do you think of that idea?”

  She forced herself to smile. “I think it sounds fine, Daadi.”

  Chapter Six

  When Gideon finished his labor, he opened the back door of the harness shop and carried the snow shovel through the building. Rebecca’s grandfather sat behind the counter on a tall stool tooling a length of harness. He looked up when he heard Gideon and nodded. “Danki, your help is appreciated.”

  “I’m happy to do it.” Gideon’s voice was barely audible and the sensation of swallowing razor blades was back. He looked around but didn’t see Rebecca.

  “My granddaughter decided to go back to the inn,” Reuben said before Gideon could ask.

  Gideon tried to hide his disappointment. Reuben returned to his work without another word. Recognizing a d
ismissal when he saw it, Gideon walked out the front door. Had he made trouble for Rebecca? He knew a few Amish elders who would see her casual friendship with him as brazen behavior.

  Standing on the sidewalk, he pushed his hands deeper into his coat pockets. The day seemed colder without Rebecca’s company. He had worked up a sweat shoveling. Now a chill was setting in.

  Traffic had picked up on the streets. Chances were good that the interstate would be open soon, if it wasn’t already. The narrow rural highway between Hope Springs and the interstate might be another story, but Gideon found he wasn’t eager to leave the quiet village.

  Okay, he wasn’t eager to leave Rebecca. The connection was still there between them. He felt it. The question was—what should he do about it?

  He shook his head at his foolishness. What was the point of resurrecting his emotions from their old relationship when Rebecca had no idea who he was? He wasn’t being fair to her or to himself. Suddenly he realized how tired he was. His illness had seriously sapped his energy. His good deed of shoveling aside four feet of packed snow had burned through what little he had left.

  Or maybe it was his guilty conscience making him tired. Pretending to be someone he wasn’t was harder than he thought. With heavy steps, he started walking toward the inn.

  By the time he reached the building he was ready to crawl under the covers and hide. He wasn’t in any shape to attempt the six-hour drive home. When he entered the lobby, he was relieved to see his cousin wasn’t on duty. The elderly man behind the desk was the same fellow that checked Gideon in. He wasn’t Amish.

  “Did you enjoy your stay with us, Mr. Troyer?”

  Gideon glanced around to see who might have overheard his name. There was no one about. He managed a smile and said, “Call me Booker. It’s a very comfortable place. I know I’m due to check out today, but is there any way I can stay another night?”

  “Certainly. I can keep you in the same room for two more days if you like.”

  “One more will be fine.” Relieved, Gideon climbed the stairs and walked slowly down the hall. At the door to Rebecca’s room he paused. He considered knocking to see if she had made it back okay but decided against it. It would be better all around if he let their budding relationship die a natural death. As far as she knew they were two strangers staying at the same inn. They had enjoyed a walk together and nothing more. He should let it go at that.

  He needed to let go of her.

  Unlocking his own door, he entered the cozy room where an old-fashioned four-poster bed with a blue-and-white quilted coverlet was calling his name. He tossed his coat over a chair, kicked off his shoes and lay down fully dressed on the bed. After a minute, he rolled to his side and dragged the corner of the bedspread across his shoulders.

  The next time he opened his eyes the room was completely dark. Squinting at the clock on the bedside table, he saw it was nearly eleven-thirty at night and he was starving. Had he really slept for twelve hours?

  It was too late to call Roseanne or Craig now. He’d have to try to catch them early in the morning to let them know he wouldn’t be back until the day after tomorrow. Although the company had three flights booked for the next two days, Craig would just have to pick up the slack.

  Gideon sat up and rubbed his gritty eyes. His chin itched. He ran a hand over his bristly cheeks and scratched his face. He needed a shave. A few more days and he could pass for an Amish newlywed. He’d be glad when his halfhearted disguise wasn’t needed anymore.

  Rising, he moved to the window and looked out. At least it wasn’t snowing. From his vantage point he could see the outline of the shops across the street highlighted by a red glow behind them. It took his sleep-stupid brain a full ten seconds to process what he was seeing.

  There was a building on fire.

  Dashing back to the bed, he grabbed the phone on the nightstand and dialed 911, praying this sleepy little town had an emergency dispatch. To his relief, a woman’s voice said, “911 operator. What is your emergency?”

  He tried to speak, but his voice failed him. Apparently, getting chilled had set back his recovery.

  “What is your emergency?” the woman asked, louder this time.

  He tried harder, straining his vocal cords. “I can see a building on fire from my window.”

  “I’m sorry, I can’t understand you. Would you repeat that, please?”

  He dropped the receiver beside the phone and headed out the door. He had to find someone with a voice. In the dark hallway, he saw a sliver of light coming from beneath Rebecca’s door. He pounded on the wooden panel.

  When there was no response, he knocked again. This time, he heard her uncertain voice. “Who is it?”

  “It’s Booker.” Great, he couldn’t identify himself beyond a harsh whisper he doubted she could hear through the thick door. He knocked again.

  The door opened a crack. “Booker? Is that you?”

  He drew his hand across his throat hoping she would understand he couldn’t talk and then realized she couldn’t see him, either. He swallowed hard and struggled to speak. “Rebecca, I need your help.”

  The door opened wide. She stood with a soft blue robe pulled over her floor-length white nightgown. Her hair was in a long braid hanging over her shoulder. He had been right. It was past her waist now. She stared sightlessly past him.

  He leaned forward, close to her ear and whispered, “I see a building on fire from my window.”

  From inside the room, he heard her aunt call out. “Rebecca, what’s going on? It’s nearly midnight.”

  “Booker says he sees a building on fire.”

  “Where?”

  They were wasting valuable time. Gideon took Rebecca’s hand and pulled her across the hall to his room. Picking up the phone, he placed it to her ear and said, “Tell them.”

  Clearly, the 911 operator was still on the line. Rebecca said, “Hello, this is Rebecca Beachy. I want to report a fire.”

  Gideon placed his ear on the outside of the receiver to hear the woman’s response.

  “Can you give me your address?”

  “I’m staying at the Wadler Inn in Hope Springs.”

  “Is the fire at the inn?”

  Gideon said no and Rebecca repeated the information.

  “Can you give me the location of the fire?”

  By this time Rebecca’s aunt had followed them into the room. Gideon led her to his window. Now that the women would be able to stay on the line with the dispatcher, he could go get more help. He pulled on his shoes and grabbed his coat.

  Rebecca said, “They’re putting a call into the Hope Springs volunteer fire department. They will be on their way soon, but they need an address.”

  Gideon pointed to himself then to the fire and retrieved his cell phone. Vera nodded in understanding. She said, “Rebecca, tell them Mr. Booker is heading toward the fire now. He’ll have someone call them on his cell phone. I’ll rouse the house.”

  Gideon grabbed his coat and sprinted out the door. At the foot of the stairs, he looked back once and saw Vera coming down, too. She would raise the alarm and get help from the staff at the inn.

  Outside, he raced across the street and followed the same path he and Rebecca had walked that morning. As he ran down the sidewalk a sick feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. He wasn’t sure until he passed the fabric shop and reached the alley they had taken to her grandfather’s shop. Through the narrow walkway he saw the flames licking up the back wall of the harness shop. The snow-covered ground reflected the dancing orange glow. The stench of smoke fouled the night air.

  Gideon hurried down the alley. Already the heat had broken out several windows at the rear of the building. No one was about yet. The windows of the homes on either side of the building were dark. It wasn’t going to take much for the fire to spread across the narrow spaces between the wooden structures. He had to wake people.

  Looking around he spotted a metal trash can at the side of the alley. He picked up the lid and
started banging it against the can for all he was worth. It seemed like an eternity before the back door of one house finally opened and an irate voice shouted, “Knock off that racket!”

  From above, he heard a window open. This time a woman screeched, “Fire!”

  Now that he was sure the alarm would be spread, Gideon dropped his noisemaker and raced around to the front of the building. The shop was adjacent to Reuben’s home. He had to make sure the elderly couple was safe.

  Reuben’s home was dark, but Gideon saw someone standing in the street in front of it. It wasn’t Reuben. The bystander was a boy of about sixteen. He already had his cell phone to his ear. Trusting that the boy was calling 911, Gideon sprinted up the steps of Reuben’s house and began pounding on the door. The flames were clearly visible over the roof of the shop now.

  He was ready to break down the door when Reuben finally appeared. He held a battery-powered lantern in his hand. Raising it high, he squinted at Gideon. “What is the meaning of this?”

  The boy from the street ran up. “Mr. Beachy, your shop is on fire.”

  Reuben’s eyes widened. “Gott, have mercy.”

  He turned back into the house and Gideon heard him shouting for his wife. In the distance, he heard the faint wail of sirens. Help was on its way at last.

  A moment later, Reuben came out of his house pulling his coat over his nightclothes. He hurried past Gideon to the front door of his shop, opened it and disappeared inside.

  “Is the old man crazy?” the boy standing beside Gideon asked in astonishment.

  The Amish didn’t believe in insurance. Reuben had to save as much of his merchandise as he could. Knowing that it was the stupidest thing he had ever done, Gideon followed Rebecca’s grandfather into the harness shop.

  Rebecca learned it was her grandfather’s shop nearly thirty minutes after Booker left her. Having returned to their room and dressed, she and Vera were in the lobby of the inn when word reached them by way of Naomi Wadler.

  Now, an hour later, the three women were in the kitchen preparing thermoses of coffee and sandwiches that would be taken to the volunteers working to contain the blaze.

  The back door of the kitchen banged open. Naomi asked, “What news is there, Kyle?”