A Wells Landing Christmas

by Amy Lillard

  Her grandfather scowled. “Bah,” he muttered, but he sat back in his seat.

  “We may have to warm them up a bit,” Zeb said.

  “How did they get here?” she asked.

  Zeb grinned, obviously pleased with himself. “When we went over to take Obie back his phone, Clara Rose asked after you, and one thing led to another. She brought them over about an hour ago.”

  Ridiculous tears pricked at the back of her eyelids. In a community that seemed to turn its back on her regularly, there were still a few who cared. Christmas spirit was not dead. It was still alive and well.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “I just don’t think it’s a good idea,” Ivy protested. Falling asleep next to Zeb last night and waking up next to him this morning was one thing. But what he was proposing now . . .

  “There’s nothing wrong with it,” Zeb protested. “I spent the night here last night. And I’m going to do it again. That way there will be two of us here to keep an eye on your grandfather.”

  “But he’s fine now,” she said.

  Zeb shook his head. “Don’t make me say it.”

  Okay. If she was being truly honest with herself, her grandfather was not up to his usual stuff. He couldn’t remember half of what had happened last night, though she was beginning to wonder if he just didn’t want to confess. After everything they had been through, Ivy couldn’t say that she blamed him. “He’s better,” she finally said.

  “And he could have a relapse and walk right back out the door.”

  It was the one thing she didn’t want to think about. And yet she knew it to be a fact as sure as the sun set in the west.

  “What will everyone say?” she asked.

  Zeb propped his hands on his hips and eyed her skeptically. “Really? That’s what’s worrying you? You haven’t cared about what everyone thinks of you in the last two years. Why all the sudden are you bringing it up now?”

  Why indeed?

  “I have cared,” she finally admitted.

  He frowned at her. “Then why did you spread all those rumors about yourself?”

  “I told you. To keep people away.”

  He looked around her small house. “It seems to have worked.”

  So why wasn’t he half the town away with his family instead of standing there in her living room arguing with her? “It’s not a good idea,” she sternly repeated.

  “Jah? Neither is leaving the two of you alone.” He kicked off his shoes and grabbed the blanket from the end of the couch. It was the same one he had used to cover up with the night before. Was this going to become a habit? Did she want it to? What would the town say about that?

  She threw up her hands in a show of frustrated surrender. “Fine. Whatever makes you happy.” Though as long as she was admitting things she should note that him sleeping on her couch made her happy, if nothing else.

  * * *

  For two days, their pattern remained the same. The three of them got up every morning and ate a breakfast prepared by her grandfather, who was closely monitored by Zeb. Not that he knew anything about cooking. But he could sure enough tell if Yonnie had left anything turned on.

  After breakfast, Ivy headed off to work, while Yonnie and Zeb were left to entertain themselves in her absence. They further increased their customized Uno game, which now included a second deck and a whole new set of rules. Yonnie might not be able to remember things from time to time, but there was nothing wrong with his reasoning. He was as sharp as a tack when it came to games and other endeavors, but anything beyond that seemed to confuse him. He could feed the chickens just fine, muck out a few stalls, and take care of all the animals, but Zeb didn’t feel he could trust him to be alone in the barn.

  Zeb had no idea what was wrong with Yonnie’s memory beyond what Ivy had told him. He wasn’t sure how much Ivy understood of the deficit. But Zeb did know that it was getting worse. From what Ivy had said, the times were getting closer together and lasting longer. What was she going to do when they blended completely together?

  It didn’t bear thinking about.

  “Come on,” he said to Yonnie just after midday. “Get your coat. Let’s replace these pine boughs before Ivy gets home.”

  “All righty.” Yonnie was on his feet in a second, eager to be moving around. The man was more active than most, and Zeb knew this confinement was trying for him. “Maybe we can find some ivy to dig up and mix with the greens. Get it? Ivy?”

  Zeb shook his head. “I get it. It was just a very poor joke.”

  “But it would be pretty, vines of ivy around the pine boughs and poinsettias.”

  One of them had taken silk poinsettias and placed them throughout the greenery on the mantelpiece. The mixture of red and green was beautiful.

  “Maybe we should get Ivy a real flower. As part of her Christmas present.”

  “A poinsettia?” Yonnie shook his head. “They’re poisonous to cats, and Chester wouldn’t leave it alone. She eats all the plants we bring in. Bad kitty.”

  As if she knew her name, Chester sauntered in, swishing her tail back and forth, daring them to say any more about her.

  “What about the pine boughs?” Zeb asked, starting to gather the drying limbs so they could replace them.

  “Only the good Lord’s grace keeps her off the mantel. Well, that and the water pistol Ivy keeps by the kitchen sink.”

  Zeb laughed. He had wondered what that was for. Leave it to Ivy to use a water pistol to keep her headstrong cat in line. Then again, what had they expected from a calico named Chester?

  “Okay,” he said. “No real poinsettias. But new pine boughs, jah?”

  Yonnie nodded. “Jah.”

  * * *

  Ivy was near exhausted by the time she turned her tractor down the lane that led to her house. So tired that she only wanted to go in, take off her shoes, and prop her feet on the coffee table. What they had thought would be an easy day turned into a rush as word of her chocolate peppermint cupcakes spread throughout Wells Landing. Amish and Englisch alike came for a dozen, half dozen, and in one case three dozen cupcakes to round out their holiday desserts.

  Not that it was a bad thing. It was just what she needed to help Esther realize that Ivy needed to become a permanent fixture at the bakery. She just wished they’d had a little warning. But with Christmas Eve falling on Sunday, that left one less day to buy things before Christmas. The result was aching feet and exhaustion, but they’d had a successful day, of that she was certain.

  But she knew she wouldn’t be able to sit down the minute she got home. She’d had Ethan on her mind all day. She did as her grandmother always said and sent up a prayer every time he popped into her thoughts, but it had happened with such regularity that she felt compelled to go see him. It was so close to Christmas, after all. Others would have visitors. Some would even be staying with close family for the next couple of days so they could be there for Christmas morning. But not Ethan. Not unless his grandson had made it back from wherever he was.

  And that was what drove her. That and the two dozen sugar cookies she had baked him that afternoon. Somehow between waiting on all the customers and restocking the chocolate peppermint goodies, she had whipped him up a few cookies for the holiday. Crosses with gold-colored icing, snowflakes with shimmering sugar crystals, and Christmas trees in all sorts of colors. She wanted him to have them, wanted him to know that someone was thinking about him and wishing him the best Christmas ever.

  She parked her tractor out front and made her way into the house. She couldn’t just leave Zeb and Dawdi alone with so much left to do. Maybe they would want to go too.

  She let herself into the house, the scent of fresh pine tickling her nose.

  “Dawdi?” she called. “Zeb?” She shouldn’t get used to calling his name when she got home. Christmas Eve was tomorrow. How long before he had enough and headed back to Florida?

  She pulled off her coat, scarf, and gloves, then walked to the fire to warm her nose. The weather was
definitely showing that it was Christmas. But she had heard people talking as they came into the bakery all day. Zero chance of a white Christmas this year. But they were due for snow soon.

  She smiled as she caught sight of the mantel. That was why the pine smelled so strong when she entered. Someone had placed fresh boughs on the mantelpiece, along with strings of ivy. It was beautiful and somehow poignant. The red silk poinsettias dotted the row, intermixed with white candles that had been lit a while ago, if the dripping wax was any sort of indicator.

  “Dawdi?” she called again. They couldn’t have gone far if they had left lit candles in the living room.

  “Meow?” Chester sashayed into the room in that slinky way of hers, then jumped up onto the couch so Ivy could better reach her to scratch between her ears. Her loud purr joined the crackle of the fire. But where were Dawdi and Zeb?

  “Ivy?”

  She relaxed in an instant as Dawdi came through the door from the kitchen, Zeb right behind. Why was she so wound up? Maybe it was just the holiday getting to her. It was the first Christmas without her mamm.

  “We didn’t hear you come in,” Zeb explained.

  “We were cooking,” Dawdi added.

  “Cooking?”

  They nodded.

  “Well, more like warming up,” Zeb added.

  “Clara Rose again?” she asked.

  They nodded each in time with the other again and Ivy wondered if they might be spending too much time together.

  “Is it almost ready?” she asked.

  “In a bit,” Dawdi answered. “What do you think of the mantel?”

  “It’s beautiful.” She kissed his cheek, then stood on her tiptoes and kissed Zeb as well. She inhaled the familiar scent of him. That mix of outdoors, soap, and sandalwood.

  The men led the way into the kitchen, where the table was already set and more candles burned.

  “If y’all keep this up, you won’t have anything special for tomorrow.”

  Zeb grinned. “I wouldn’t be so sure.”

  “Are you ready to eat?”

  She bit her lip and looked at the beautiful table they had created for her. How could she tell them that she wanted to go back into town and check on a man she barely knew?

  Zeb shifted in place, cocking one hip like she had seen him do countless times. “What’s going on?”

  Could he read her mind? Or was her expression giving her away? “Nothing. Just—”

  “Spill it,” Zeb demanded in that no-nonsense way of his.

  “There’s a man, at the retirement home. I wanted to go by and see him today. He won’t have any visitors for Christmas. Not unless a miracle happens.”

  Dawdi grinned. “I got an idea. Let’s go be a Christmas miracle.”

  * * *

  They put their supper on hold, blew out all the candles, and hitched up the buggy. It would be faster to take the tractor, but easier by far to fit three people in a carriage. It might be the Saturday before Christmas, but the sheriff wasn’t above handing out tickets if he felt there were shenanigans about.

  Ivy’s heart lifted as they drove to the home. She had been worried about Ethan Dallas all day, and now she would see him. Wish him a Merry Christmas, give him the cookies she had made for him, introduce him to her family. And Zeb.

  Zeb parked the buggy and hobbled the horse, and together they went inside.

  The home seemed almost deserted this time of day. Or maybe it was the day itself. She had known that some residents would go home with their families to spend Christmas, but she hadn’t expected so many to be gone. Poor Ethan. Left all alone.

  Angie’s eyes widened as she saw her.

  Ivy smiled. “Hi, Angie. This is my grandfather, Yonnie, and my friend, Zeb.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Angie said, but the sentiment didn’t reach her eyes. She looked . . . preoccupied. No, that wasn’t the word. She looked worried, concerned, maybe even regretful.

  “We’re going to go visit with Ethan for a bit,” Ivy said as she signed the book. She added Dawdi and Zeb’s names next to hers.

  “Ivy.” Angie spoke her name so softly Ivy was surprised she had heard the woman at all. But something in her tone had Ivy raising her gaze to that of the receptionist.

  “What happened?” Ivy asked, her own tone beyond hushed. Suddenly the Christmas music seemed too loud, the lights too bright, the decorations too garish.

  Tears filled Angie’s eyes. “I’m sorry. So sorry.” She pulled a tissue from the box on her desk and daintily dabbed at her eyes.

  She was sorry? There was only one thing for her to be sorry about, and there was no way that—

  She couldn’t even think the words, but even as she refused to let them cross her mind, they stabbed at her heart.

  “What?” Dawdi asked, clearly confused.

  Zeb shot her a sympathetic look, then leaned in close and whispered into her grandfather’s ear.

  Dawdi gave her an identical look, but at least now he wasn’t asking questions she couldn’t answer.

  Like How? Or maybe that wasn’t a good one. She knew how. They had talked about it before. But she didn’t know when. Or if his grandson made it up in time to see his grandfather one last time.

  “—couldn’t call you,” Angie was saying. “But he left you this.” She pushed an envelope across to Ivy. She noted her name was scrawled across the front in bold black letters, then she shoved it into her coat pocket.

  “Can I see him?” she asked. She needed to see him to realize, to know, that he was truly gone.

  Dead, deceased. How could this have happened?

  “I’m sorry,” Angie said once again. But Ivy missed the first part of what she was saying. She really needed to pay more attention, but right now she couldn’t focus. She could only pick up the last half of what people were saying, and that was being generous. She couldn’t concentrate. She didn’t want to. She just wanted to see Ethan one last time. But now she never would.

  She wanted to go to his room, look at his things, touch his clothes, something, anything to keep a connection with him. She had been raised to believe that death was all a part of God’s will. But this . . . this was beyond her understanding.

  She wanted to find a way to stay, but she couldn’t. Her good friend was gone. Her dawdi and her friend had come to town with her to see a man they wouldn’t be able to see ever again.

  “Ivy,” Angie called, bringing her out of her stupor. “It’s time to go home.”

  She nodded. “Jah.” Going home was the last thing she wanted to do, but it was the only choice offered to her.

  “Come on.” Zeb gently took her arm and turned her toward the door. Ethan was gone.

  * * *

  Ivy tried to get a handle on her emotions on the ride home. They weren’t out of control, but all over the place. She was happy for him and sad for herself. She just wished . . .

  She let that thought go before completing it. Wishes would do no good other than to make her even more miserable. It is what it is. Wasn’t that what people said? Wasn’t that a little like God’s will? Whatever may be, may be. Was that part of a song? If it was, she had no idea where she had heard it. She wondered if Ethan knew it.

  Christmas lights twinkled merrily on the houses set on both sides of the road. They seemed joyous and bright. No one had told them that a sweet man had died that day.

  “How can the world continue like nothing happened?” she murmured to no one and anyone who might answer. Maybe if his grandson had made it in, or his daughter-in-law had taken the time to come and visit. That would have made Ivy feel much better, but as it was, Ethan Dallas died alone. The thought was beyond heartbreaking. She should have been there for him. But she hadn’t known he was that near his time.

  “He knows you cared about him.” Zeb leaned close as he said the words.

  “How do you know that?” she whispered in return.

  In the back of the buggy, her grandfather snored softly. Nothing like a swaying ride back from to
wn to put the man to sleep.

  “Because that’s how you are,” Zeb replied simply. “When you love someone, they know it. You’re the most giving person I know. You’re always baking things for other people, making things, doing things.”

  “I didn’t get to give him these.” She lifted the paper sack she held in one hand.

  “And today was the only time you brought him cookies?”

  She shook her head.

  “And I bet the two of you had something special you would do each time you came for a visit.”

  She scoffed. “If you call eating pudding cups special, then jah.”

  He took his attention from the road and centered that intense gaze on her. “Eating pudding cups is special, if you’re with someone you care about.”

  She shivered, not from the cold. Something more. An understanding that sent chills down her spine.

  “I wanted you to meet him.” She hadn’t realized until that moment that she had truly wanted them to meet.

  “I saw him. When we came to sing to the residents.”

  “But you didn’t get to talk to him.” There was something special about Ethan Dallas. She had been raised her entire life to accept God’s judgment, but this was beyond her acceptance. She wanted to know why. Why had God taken such a special man before he could spread more of his joy and acceptance? Why, Lord, why?

  “Then you’ll have to tell me all about him.”

  That was exactly what Ivy wanted to do, but she could tell her grief was putting a damper on the evening these two men had planned. She smiled maybe a little stiffly when they got home and went into the kitchen to warm up their supper. Like she wanted to eat. Food was the last thing she wanted. But she needed to feed the men.

  In no time at all, they were all seated around the table. Someone had gathered more pine boughs and tied them with jute to make a circle. In the center sat a fat white candle that flickered and smelled like sugar cookies.

  “The table looks nice,” she told them as she started setting the food there.

  “Thanks.” Zeb smiled at her compliment.

  Wait. He had been the one? Her grandfather she could have believed, but he was a romantic like that. She had never known that Zeb could be as well. Because you never gave him the chance to be.