A Wells Landing Christmas

by Amy Lillard

  “I’ve got an idea,” Zeb said a few minutes later.

  She was warm and sitting by the fire, joyfully listening to her grandfather snore. She was thankful. He hadn’t had a spell in a long while. God was good. “What’s that?”

  “Clara Rose and Obie are having a party tonight. Well, not really a party, more of a get-together. They want to have a Rook tournament. Couples versus. Sounds like fun, jah?”

  It did. It sounded like a great deal of fun, but she couldn’t go. If she went with Zeb to a couples tournament, she would be fooling herself that they could be a couple, when she knew without a doubt that could never happen. If she did go with Zeb, she was certain that someone would have a problem with her presence. That was the trouble with making yourself a pariah. It was hard to stop that ball rolling once it started. “I can’t go,” she said.

  His face crumpled. No matter how badly she wanted to say yes, she couldn’t do that to Zeb; she wouldn’t do it to herself.

  “No one will ever change their minds about you if you aren’t around them so they can see you are different.”

  That had been the entire point. She couldn’t go. She just couldn’t, and yet she found herself nodding. “Okay,” she said on a rumbling sigh. “I’ll go.”

  * * *

  By the time Zeb pulled up to Obie and Clara Rose’s house, Ivy thought she might hyperventilate. The air wheezed in and out of her lungs, and any minute she was bound to pass out. Or throw up. Maybe both.

  Zeb hopped to the ground and peered up at her. “You okay?”

  Somehow she nodded. This was not good. So not good. Then a voice inside her head whispered, Be brave.

  Be strong and let your heart take courage, All you who hope in the Lord.

  Psalms, she thought. But she didn’t need chapter and verse to gain strength from the words.

  She reached her hand out, clasped his in her own, and hopped to the ground next to him. It was an everyday act, boring, not worthy of any attention, and yet it felt monumental. Maybe it was.

  Zeb tucked her hand in the crook of his arm and turned them toward the house. “It’s going to be fine, Ivy. Just fine.”

  * * *

  “I can’t believe she showed up.”

  Ivy was about to round the corner that would take her back into the large activity room where Clara Rose and Obie had set up the card tables. The voice stopped her cold. She couldn’t tell who it was, only that it was a she.

  “I think it’s wonderful,” another voice said. “It’s about time for her to come out of her so-called rumspringa and get with the church.”

  “Coming to card night is hardly a step toward joining the church,” the first voice said.

  Ivy plastered herself against the wall, hoping to remain out of sight, needing to hear what they said, hating it all the while. This . . . this was the exact reason why she didn’t want to come tonight. What had she ever done to these girls?

  “Poor Zeb,” the second one lamented.

  “I know! It was sweet of him to take pity on her like that, but he’s not helping his standing by bringing her here.”

  His standing? What is that all about?

  “I heard he was going to leave again. Right after the New Year.”

  That was only a couple of days away. When was he going to tell her that?

  “I guess it won’t matter then.”

  “I suppose not.”

  The girls must have decided to get something to drink, or maybe they saw someone across the room and went to talk to them. At any rate, their voices continued, but faded away into the general noise of the event.

  Ivy bit her lip. She would not cry. They weren’t worth it. But it just proved that she would never be able to hold her head up in Wells Landing. For all the talk of Amish forgiveness, there would always be those who paid lip service to the idea, then carried on when they thought no one was looking. How could she live like that? She couldn’t. It was that simple.

  * * *

  “When are you going back to Florida?”

  Zeb jerked his head around to face her. He had been sweeping up the pine needles from the floor. While they had been at the card game, Chester had gotten into the wood box and dug out the once-upon-a-time Christmas decorations and batted them around the house. “I don’t know.”

  “Then why is everyone saying that you’re going back after the New Year?”

  Zeb sighed and went back to his chore. He was in charge of the floor, while she gathered up all the yarn Chester had taken from her sewing basket and strung all over the house. Some spots were knotted together, but she was determined to save as much of it as she could. Dawdi had gone upstairs to shower and get ready for bed while Ivy and Zeb cleaned up the mess.

  They had arrived back at the house only to find Tassie on the front porch looking harried. Her cheeks were flushed, her kapp was crooked, and some of her hair had worked its way out of her bob. Harried. Jah, that was the word.

  “Ivy Weaver, I’m not sure what sort of monster you keep in your house, but I’ll not be coming over again unless you get rid of it immediately.” The last word had five distinct syllables.

  After a short questioning, Ivy discovered that sometime during Tassie’s visit Chester had gone a little off-kilter, as she was prone to do, and started darting through the house. It scared Tassie, who screamed, which only made it worse. Tassie ended up standing on a chair while Chester raced around and Dawdi laughed.

  Needless to say, Ivy was not getting rid of her cat, and when she said as much to Tassie, the woman marched off the porch promising never to return again.

  As far as Ivy was concerned, it was the perfect ending to a not-so-perfect day. She wasn’t sure what it was about Tassie, but Ivy didn’t trust her intentions where Dawdi was concerned. It was possible that Ivy was being overprotective of her grandfather, thinking no one would ever be good enough for him. But it seemed obvious to her that Tassie was in the market for a new man. Her husband had recently passed, and she still had children at home to care for. Dawdi, on the other hand, had been widowed for over ten years, and as far as Ivy knew, he had never even looked at another woman. He had loved her grandmother so and seemed to have no plans to remarry anytime in the near or distant future.

  “She’s trying to get back at her,” Ivy mumbled in awe.

  “What was that?” Zeb asked.

  Ivy pushed herself to her feet, her smile of discovery growing. “Tassie Weber. She and my grandmother were always at odds, but I never thought that much about it. Now Tassie wants to marry my grandfather? She’s trying to get back at my mammi.”

  “Why would a woman go to such lengths to best a rival?”

  Ivy shot him a look. “Seriously?”

  He nodded. “Got it.”

  Ivy sank back to the mess at her feet. “She probably hated the cat all along,” she mused.

  “Cats can pick up on stuff like that.”

  As if she knew they were talking about her, Chester stretched from her perch on the back of the sofa and started grooming herself.

  “Jah,” Ivy agreed. Chester had probably saved them all from a lot of heartbreak.

  “Did you have fun tonight?” he asked.

  Ivy picked at a knot and didn’t raise her gaze to his. “Jah. Sure.”

  “You had a terrible time.”

  She laid her hands, knot and all, in her lap and looked up at him.

  He had finished sweeping and now stood, arms folded over the broom handle as he watched her.

  “No, it was . . . enlightening.”

  “Enlightening?”

  “Jah.”

  “How so?”

  She shrugged one shoulder and went back to her knot. How could she explain this where he would understand? “I’ll never be allowed to be a part of this community.”

  “Ivy.”

  “No. It’s true. Now I only have to accept it and go on.”

  “Doing what? Living your life separate from everyone else?”

  “What’s wron
g with that?” she asked. She had been doing it for the past two years. What was another sixty or so?

  “That’s no life,” he said gently.

  He was right. She knew that. But the only solution was one she couldn’t bear to think about. Moving. Sending her dawdi to Indiana. Maybe going there herself. Getting a fresh start.

  Indiana. The thought made her stomach hurt. There was nothing wrong with Indiana itself. Not that she knew of, anyway. She had never been there. She simply did not feel in her heart that Indiana was where she belonged. It was as simple as that.

  “I guess since we’re doing this, we should go ahead and take the Christmas candles down. And the Nativity,” Zeb said.

  She sighed. It was the worst part of Christmas, taking everything down and putting it away for the year. She knew it couldn’t be left up. It would lose its specialness. But putting it away made her want to cry. Why couldn’t they celebrate every day?

  “Is that a no?”

  “Let’s leave it up until the Epiphany.”

  “What?”

  “Three Kings’ Day. January sixth. It’s the day the Magi came to see Jesus.” One of the many things she and Ethan had talked about.

  “I know what it is,” he said, his tone a bit bemused.

  “That should be part of Christmas too, jah?”

  He nodded slowly. “I suppose.”

  “Then let’s leave the decorations up until then.”

  “If you like.” A frown creased his brow. “But the Amish don’t really celebrate Three Kings’ Day.”

  “Maybe we should petition the board to change that.”

  He grinned. “Just so you can keep your Christmas decorations up longer?”

  She smiled in return. “There are worse things.”

  * * *

  The bell over the door tinkled out its warning that a customer had come into the bakery. Ivy took the pan of Christmas cookies from the oven and slid them onto the cooling rack. She had convinced Esther to serve Christmas cookies year-round. Normally they would cut them into other shapes for the rest of the year—hearts for Valentine’s Day, stars for the Fourth of July, and plain circles for the rest of the year. But Ivy had big plans for the cookies. They simply did not taste the same in different shapes. Zeb had laughed at her when she told him that. How long ago had that been? Years. But she knew it was true. They might not be able to celebrate Christmas in all ways all year, but cookies could always be enjoyed.

  “Ivy?”

  She whirled around. There, on the other side of the counter, stood Logan Dallas. She pressed the warm pot holder to her chest to keep her heart steady. “Logan. You scared me.”

  “Sorry.” He gave an apologetic grin. “I didn’t mean to.”

  He had only scared her because she was a million miles away. Or perhaps it was a million minutes in the past. A past that couldn’t be repeated.

  “I thought you had gone.”

  He shrugged. “I decided to stay for a bit. Get a few more things before I head back.”

  “Oh, jah?”

  “That, and someone told me that the best pie in town could be found right here.” He grinned.

  “Of course.”

  “Maybe I could get a slice?” he asked.

  Ivy nodded toward the small tables set up in the front. “Have a seat and I’ll bring it right out.”

  He smiled, and her heart started that pounding again. Why? Was it because he wasn’t Amish? Or because he was just plain gorgeous? Or maybe he offered her something different. Whatever it was, she needed him to leave town soon before her heart wore completely out from thrashing in her chest.

  Just then Caroline came out of the back carrying a large tub of icing.

  “Let me get that.” Ivy took the tub from her and lugged it to the counter.

  “I’m not an invalid, you know,” Caroline groused. Her normally sunny disposition had disappeared as of late. She pressed a hand to her eyes. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to snap. It’s just that Andrew won’t let me do anything at home, and between you and Esther I can barely lift a finger here.”

  “I’m sorry,” Ivy said. “I was just trying to help.”

  Caroline shot her a weak, though apologetic, smile. “I know that. Which is why I shouldn’t have fussed. I do appreciate you.”

  “Thank you.” Her gaze strayed to where Logan sat at the table, patiently waiting for his pie.

  Caroline followed her line of sight. “Who’s that?”

  “Logan.” She did everything in her power not to release his name on a sigh, but even then, her voice sounded a little breathless.

  “And he wants?”

  “Pie.”

  “Then I suggest you get him some. I’ll get the other pan of cookies out when the timer goes off. You take a quick break, jah?”

  Ivy smiled her gratitude. “Thanks, Caroline.”

  She cut a slice of caramel pie and one of strawberry rhubarb, grabbed two forks, and headed for the table.

  He smiled as she approached. “What have you got there?”

  She told him as she slid the saucers onto the table. She handed him a fork.

  “Both for me?” he asked with a gleam in his eyes.

  She scooted into the seat across from him. “I thought we might share.”

  “Sounds like a perfect plan.”

  “This is my favorite,” he claimed, two bites into the strawberry rhubarb.

  “Jah?” she asked. “I guess this slice is mine, then.” She pulled the caramel pie closer.

  He snagged the edge of the saucer with his fork. “Not so fast.”

  “I thought that one was your favorite.” She pulled her expression into the most innocent one she could muster.

  “That doesn’t mean I don’t want to try this one. Besides,” he continued, “you accepted that a little too easily. Which means this pie is probably fantastic.”

  She laughed and pushed the pie closer to him. “Be my guest.”

  He scooped up a bite of pie, shoveled it into his mouth, then fell back against his seat as if he were in some kind of pain. “I changed my mind.” He pointed to the caramel slice. “That is my favorite.”

  She laughed. “They can’t both be your favorite.”

  He stopped, suddenly serious. “Why can’t they be?”

  Why couldn’t they be? Who set up these rules? “No reason, I guess.”

  His expression changed and went back to its playful smile, but the question remained with Ivy as they finished their snack. The world seemed full of definitive rules that she had to follow. It had been that way her entire life. And never once had she felt like they were fair, or even valid. Why did a favorite have to be one? Why did a person only get Christmas cookies in December? Why couldn’t she have shiny tinsel garland at Christmastime?

  Some of the rules came from the Ordnung, but not all. The Englisch world was filled with them as well, but the price for breaking one there seemed far less severe.

  “A penny for them,” he said quietly.

  Ivy roused herself from her musings. “What?”

  “Your thoughts.”

  She shook her head. “Nothing worth speaking of.” At least not out loud. She could fantasize all she wanted about Christmas tinsel and rules that she could believe in, but it wouldn’t get her any closer to the actual thing.

  Logan scraped his plate with the edge of his fork and licked off the crumbs and filling. He smiled when he caught Ivy watching him. “We don’t get a lot of pie in Costa Rica.”

  “Is it worth it? Giving up the luxuries you have?”

  “People could ask the same of you. Well, of the Amish people. Is it worth it to you?”

  “But I don’t sacrifice these comforts in order to help another.”

  He nodded. “I suppose that does make it different.” He seemed to mull it over for a moment. “It does,” he finally said. “Helping others makes it all worth it. Even the lack of pie.”

  * * *

  “He’s cute,” Caroline said, only seconds a
fter Logan walked out of the bakery. Ivy was surprised he didn’t hear her.

  “And Englisch,” she added unnecessarily.

  Caroline gave a casual shrug. “There’s nothing wrong with being Englisch.”

  Ivy whipped around so fast she almost strained her neck. Had she heard her correctly?

  “What?” Caroline’s eyes were wide and innocent. She turned back to her chore of cleaning the worktable. “Not all Englisch are bad, you know.”

  She knew that, but what experience did Caroline Fitch have with the Englisch? Ivy wanted to ask, but bit her tongue. It was really none of her business.

  “And I think he likes you.”

  Ivy tried to play it off. “Maybe.” But she thought perhaps Logan liked her a bit. Yet what could be done with such emotion? “He lives in Costa Rica,” Ivy said.

  “Oh, jah?”

  “He’s a missionary.”

  “Interesting.”

  “What is?”

  Caroline tossed the damp rag aside and focused all her attention on Ivy. “I’m going to tell you something, and I want you to do with the information as you wish.”

  “Jah, sure.”

  “Sometimes the best thing a person can have is a chance to start over in a place where no one knows their name.”

  Then Ivy remembered. Caroline had just appeared in town a few years ago, pregnant and widowed. She had gotten a second chance in a place where no one knew who she was. Her family. Or all the rumors about her.

  But what was Caroline saying? Ivy studied the woman’s tired but beautiful face. Those hazel eyes were trying to tell her something, but Ivy couldn’t imagine what. “Thank you,” she said, her head beginning to hurt from thinking so hard. Or maybe it was the stress of a handsome man coming to see her at work. She’d never had that happen before.

  “You’re welcome.” Caroline turned back to her work, leaving Ivy to find the meaning behind her words.

  * * *

  By the time Ivy pulled into the lane leading to the house she shared with Dawdi, she was certain she’d had all the winter she could take for one year. And considering it wasn’t even January . . . she was in for some long months.

  She parked the tractor under its place next to the hay barn and flipped up her collar before heading for the house. Despite the coat she was wearing she was shivering by the time she got inside. Maybe she should look into getting a heavier coat. And some heavier tights. Or black sweatpants, like the athletes wore.