Mattie stood in front of her brother’s home, her mood as dark and cold as the night surrounding her. The street lamps peered through the fog as Sol loaded her bags into the rig. She’d shared Thanksgiving earlier today at her brother’s place. Dorothy had made quite a feast, but Mattie had barely stomached eating. All she could see in her mind’s eye was the ruins of Mattie Cakes.
Her brother put a fresh car battery in the floorboard and attached wires to it so the headlights worked. “I know you don’t want to go back to Pennsylvania right now, but there’s nothing you can do here until we get the issues settled with the insurance company, and that’s going to take about four weeks. Then we can look for a place to rent and convert it into a usable bakeshop until we can rebuild this spring.” James put his hand on her shoulder. “Besides, Mamm wants her only daughter to come home for a while after all that’s happened. And I think maybe you could use a little time away from here.”
She gazed at where Mattie Cakes had stood only a week earlier. Through the foggy night air, she could see the jagged, charred remnants of her shop two hundred feet away. She was grateful the flames and sparks hadn’t set any other buildings on fire. But the old wood Mattie Cakes was built with had ignited like a box of kitchen matches, and her ovens, pans, utensils, and supplies had melted or been damaged beyond repair. The worst loss was her scrapbook with all her notes, pictures, and magazine cutouts of specialty cakes.
Dorothy hugged her. “As soon as we get the insurance straightened out, we’ll buy the materials to rebuild. Then in the spring we’ll have a shop raising to rival any barn raising you’ve ever witnessed.”
“Denki.” Mattie held her tight, not wanting to leave the place she now called home. But she released her and climbed into the rig.
Her parents had made the trip here last week, visiting her in the hospital every day until she was released. Then Mamm had returned to Pennsylvania a couple of days ago, needing to get ready for the traditional Thanksgiving meal at her home with her six other sons and their wives and children. But once Mamm got home, she couldn’t rest with Mattie elsewhere, so she beckoned her daughter to return to Apple Ridge. Mattie’s siblings were concerned about Mamm and were also urging Mattie to come—without any further delay for Mamm’s sake. So here she was, at the end of Thanksgiving Day, miserable, and yet packed and headed to Pennsylvania.
No one expected to be able to rebuild the shop in the dead of winter, but she wasn’t staying in Pennsylvania until warmer weather arrived. She’d managed to talk Mamm into letting her return to Ohio in time for Christmas so she and Sol could attend the Christmas singing together.
Sol climbed in beside her. He took the reins in hand and slapped them against the horse’s back as she waved to James and Dorothy. The clip-clop of the hoofs against the pavement echoed in the quietness, and she settled back in her seat. Sol eased his hand over hers as he drove toward Strasburg, where they’d meet up with a driver who’d agreed to take her to the train station. Later, a woman named Gloria, who often drove her cousin Beth, would meet Mattie at the station in Pennsylvania.
Mattie tried to steady her pounding heart by reminding herself that the journey ahead was simply keeping the promise she’d made to come home if Mamm ever needed her. But the rampant thudding inside her chest reminded her that giving one’s word was much easier than keeping it.
As soon as she arrived in Pennsylvania, she needed to finish contacting all her clients to cancel their orders. All her records had been lost in the fire, but she’d called every person she could remember in order to cancel orders that had been made. Her thoughts were too cloudy to recall everyone. It’d be awful if someone showed up at her store expecting a cake and saw the shop in ashes.
If she could find a place in Berlin to keep working, she would. But baking decorative cakes required ample workspace and a large oven. Dorothy’s kitchen couldn’t accommodate Mattie’s needs, nor could Mackenzie’s shop. Mattie didn’t want to cancel all the orders for the next four to six months, but she could think of no solutions, and she was heartsick over it.
The midnight jaunt to Strasburg left Mattie feeling as if she were a character in one of those old movies playing in the Englischer homes where she used to baby-sit. Danger always lurked in the misty darkness.
Even under the shroud of night, Sol looked capable and relaxed. She wished she could be more like him in that way. “As skittish as a horse on a highway” defined her personality of late, but changes in plans, even unfair ones, never shook Sol.
He glanced her way and smiled.
“Would you sing for me?”
He put his arm around her shoulders, and she moved in closer while he sang, “Welcher nun Gott mill lieben thun.” As he sang, she considered the lyrics—“Whoever now wants to love God, let him first love his brother. Lay down his life for him, as Christ gave Himself for us in death … out of love and mercy.”
Was Sol trying to tell her that she needed to be more gracious about having to go home? Irritability churned inside her as it had ever since she woke up in the hospital. She had to constantly fight the urge to gripe or cry about everything.
He pulled in front of the driver’s home, brought the rig to a halt, and turned off the lights. “You’ll be back before you know it.”
The front door of the home opened, and Sharon Wells held up one finger. “Be there in just a few.” She disappeared into her home again.
Sharon had driven Mattie to and from the train station whenever Mattie needed a lift. It was too far to drive a rig to the station in Alliance, and not many drivers were willing to take her there at one in the morning.
Another round of sadness swept through Mattie. She longed for the comfort of her shop, its vanilla scent and the warmth of the oven. “Could you please think of something soothing to say?”
Sol removed his hat and scratched his head. “Your folks asked, and you agreed.” He got out of the rig, went around to her side of the buggy, and opened the door. “They’ve paid for two drivers and a train ticket. You can’t get cold feet now.”
That didn’t make her feel any better, but she knew that he intended for his no-nonsense explanation to be comforting. She climbed out as he grabbed her bags. “You didn’t pack much.”
“I’d have even less if Mackenzie hadn’t given me a stack of magazines to take with me. Most of my belongings were in the attic room of my shop. I’ve already told you that.”
“Yep, you did. I was just making sure you hadn’t left something behind.” He set the luggage down.
She chuckled. “You are such a liar, Sol Bender. You know good and well that you simply forgot I’d told you.”
He swallowed her in a gentle hug. “Who is going to keep me straight while you’re gone?”
She waited for the strength of his arms to absorb some of her nervousness. “No one if you know what’s good for you.”
He tilted her chin upward. “No matter how long you’re gone, I’ll be as faithful as if you were standing next to me.”
Sol wasn’t much of a talker. He usually said what he needed to express in quips or shy smiles. But he understood what she needed from him. She wiped fresh tears off her cheeks. “I’m so sick of crying.”
“Well, we agree on that at least.” He was teasing her, but she was sure her recent behavior had taxed him. “Maybe you need this trip, Mattie.”
“Oh, you just want to get rid of me so you can return to your hunting free of all guilt.”
He kissed her. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.”
She backed away and pulled an envelope from her purse. “This is the number to Hertzlers’ store. It’ll be the easiest way to get a message to me.” She’d given him this information twice already, but if she knew Sol, he’d already misplaced it. He was a lot like her when it came to misplacing things. But on nights like this, when she needed his help at one in the morning, he never muttered the slightest complaint.
Sharon came out of her home and unlocked her van.
Sol put her
luggage in the trunk and closed it. He stifled a yawn as he waited for Mattie to get in the passenger’s seat. She waved, and he held up four fingers, representing the weeks she’d be gone.
Her frustration surfaced again. Mattie Cakes stayed so busy during the holidays, and she loved every minute of it. She’d miss all the hustle and bustle of getting brightly decorated cakes out the door to become a part of people’s feasts and celebrations.
She’d thought that coming to Ohio three years ago was God giving her beauty for ashes—the shop and Sol. But now Mattie Cakes was nothing but ashes, and Sol’s favorite thing about her—her ability to remain on an even keel emotionally—had also gone up in smoke. Had she displeased God somehow and this was His way of getting her attention?
At least one good thing would come from this change of plans. She’d be able to make the cakes for her aunt Lizzy’s and her cousin Beth’s weddings. Lizzy was actually Mattie’s step-aunt. Lizzy and her siblings came from the second marriage of Mattie’s grandfather. As a widower, he’d married a younger woman, so now the siblings and stepsiblings ranged in age from Rebecca at seventy to Lizzy at forty.
Even though Lizzy was forty, she never had a beau until she and the widower bishop fell in love. It was an odd coincidence that Beth and Lizzy, who’d run Hertzlers’ Dry Goods together for years, were getting married less than two weeks apart.
Beth was more than a decade younger than Lizzy and had buried her first fiancé. Mattie had never seen anyone take the death of a loved one harder than Beth had. But two years ago Beth had met Jonah Kinsinger, and shortly after, it was revealed why she had shut herself off from everyone after Henry died. He hadn’t been who he pretended to be, and when Beth realized it, she ended their engagement. Whether by accident or on purpose, later that night he drowned in a river.
Henry and Gideon had more in common than Mattie wanted to admit. Both men hid parts of who they were from everyone. Gideon wasn’t abusive like Henry, but she was floored by his interest in non-Amish women.
She watched the lights in the distance as the driver headed for the train station. Regardless of her sadness over losing her business, she was looking forward to meeting the new man in Beth’s life. Somehow Jonah Kinsinger had brought truth and healing to Beth, and Mattie intended to hug him for it.
As the lights of various towns came and went, she wondered what had changed Gideon. She’d known him his whole life. Beth had been caught by surprise at who Henry really was, but he hadn’t grown up around them. Gideon’s grandmother’s farmhouse sat across the street from her parents’ place. When they were little and he stayed the night with his grandmother, they waved at each other from their bedrooms and talked on the two-way radios until one of them fell asleep. As teens they used sign language … and the two-way radio. Once they’d even sent messages back and forth tied to the mane of a horse. Because he lived with his parents in a different district some twenty miles away, they didn’t attend the same Amish school or the same church, but she’d been certain she knew the real Gideon.
She used to think that marrying him would mean spending the rest of her life with her best friend. As it turned out, he wasn’t a friend at all—not to her and probably not to himself either.
It wouldn’t affect her one way or the other, but she couldn’t help wondering if he’d changed any in the last three years.
With a fresh supply of screws in hand, Gideon left the dry goods store. Cold air seeped across the land as if someone had opened a huge freezer. While he strode across the parking lot, he studied the outside of Beth and Jonah’s unfinished home, mentally calculating what he needed to finish.
After several holdups due to supplies and weather, he couldn’t afford another setback. Workwise he had lost only half a day when Mattie was hurt. But emotionally he’d yet to regain his footing. Something hard inside him had dislodged when he feared for her safety, and he needed to get it back in place. Since he hadn’t told her the truth about why he broke up with her, she might always hold a grudge.
Determined to accept his fate, he tried to focus on the job in front of him—finishing Beth and Jonah’s place. The couple could have their wedding at her parents’ place and live in Beth’s apartment above Hertzlers’ Dry Goods until the house was completed. But Gideon had given his word he’d finish it on time.
Car tires crunched against gravel in the store’s parking lot. Gideon glanced behind him, and his heart threatened to stop.
Mattie Lane sat in the car with Beth’s driver for the store. Jonah had mentioned that Gloria brought Mattie home from the bus station early this morning.
Relief at seeing her strong enough to be out once again washed over him. But he still would rather not face her. Had Sol told her about his visit to the hospital?
Trying to avoid looking Mattie’s way, Gideon went up the wooden steps and into the house. A layer of chalky dust covered the walls, ceilings, and particle board floors. Kitchen cabinets stood in the center of the room, waiting for him to secure them to the newly finished walls. Leftover wood trim was stacked along one wall. Tubs, sinks, and commodes were still in their boxes, sitting in odd places, along with various types of hardware. But right now he intended to hang a few doors.
The cold and empty disarray of the place made him feel as if he’d stepped inside his own soul. In all his planning and calculations to set Mattie free, he hadn’t anticipated what his life would be like if he survived the cancer. He’d spent the better part of two years in a hospital, much of it quarantined. Not one doctor had expected him to beat the blast crisis phase. The journey from the day he was diagnosed to today had changed him so much he no longer recognized himself.
Ignoring the weight of that thought, he kept his outward movements as normal as any other day, hoping to convince anyone who might see him—like someone from Beiler Construction stopping by or the visitors Beth, Jonah, and Lizzy regularly gave tours to—that he was fine. But he couldn’t fool himself. His dry mouth and clammy palms spoke truth. His mind hadn’t let him sleep the last few nights, and his heart couldn’t decide whether to race or to stop beating altogether.
The destruction he’d faced since learning he had chronic myelogenous leukemia seemed infinite. When he was first diagnosed, he was in early chronic phase, and his survival rate was ninety percent, so he quietly traveled to Philadelphia for treatment, thinking he could keep it from Mattie until he had a clean bill of health. But while in treatment, his abnormal white cells had exploded in growth, and with it his chance of survival plummeted. So did he, but he’d shored himself up as best he could, while keeping his diagnosis from everyone in Apple Ridge. The battle with cancer had stolen nearly every piece of who he was. If anyone could destroy what little he had left, Mattie Lane could. She hated him for cheating on her.
Regardless of how she felt, he had to find a way to peacefully deal with her over the weeks ahead.
After moving two freshly carved doors from the back porch to the appropriate spots to hang them, he put on his tool belt and went into the master bathroom. Gideon attached a set of hinges to the frame of the doorway, then used his foot as a prop to help balance the door while tapping the pin into the hinge with a hammer.
“Gideon,” Jonah called as he entered the home.
“Master bathroom.”
When Jonah came to the room, Gideon opened the door he was trying to hang just enough to let Jonah enter.
With a cane in one hand, Jonah held out his other hand for the hammer. Gideon gave it to him, glad for the help. He dug into his tool belt and pulled two more hinge pins.
Jonah took them and tapped one into place. “I think you should get the kitchen cabinets in place next.”
“But you haven’t finished carving on them.”
“There’s been a change of plans. We’ll put them up as is.”
“Okay, but why?”
The sound of female voices caused Gideon to shift his attention to the window.
Mattie Lane and Beth were heading this way. Mattie was
dressed like an Ohio Amish woman now, with the stiffer oval prayer Kapp and a sage green apron that matched her dress. Like him, she’d joined the Old Order Amish faith about two years ago. It was below forty with the wind blowing, and she wasn’t wearing a coat.
Her eyes grew large with pleasure as she studied the new home, and a part of him he’d buried long ago rattled against its confinement. She pointed out various details and smiled as she hugged Beth.
Mattie Lane. Energetic. Vibrant. Talented. Poised. And beautiful inside and out. She was also scattered, easily distracted, and had a jealous streak the size of Pennsylvania. When it came to ending their relationship with a lie, he used her jealousy against her to set her free from his doomed future.
Jonah’s cane thudded against the particle board as he moved closer to the window. “Look at them, Gideon.”
“I did.” The familiar hardness took control again, and he turned back to his work. “I saw two half-giddy women gabbing ninety to nothing.”
“Ya, sharing encouragement and excitement. Menfolk would never do that … except maybe with a girlfriend or wife.”
“The day a man needs that kind of nonsense is the day he might as well accept that he’s not really a man at all.”
Jonah laughed. “Not a man, eh?”
The sound of the front door swooshing open started a war inside Gideon.
If she knew he had come to the hospital to see her, he could discount his rash action by saying he’d overreacted to hearing that she’d been hurt. But his nervous shaking reminded him that he had deeper secrets to keep and a heart to guard.
Hers.
Gideon motioned toward the bedroom door. “I’d like to get that door up next.” And close it.
Gideon grabbed the door and laid it on the sawhorses so he could get the hardware on it.
“Jonah?” Beth called.
The Christmas Singing Page 4