A Log Cabin Christmas Collection

by Margaret Brownley; Jane Kirkpatrick; Kelly Eileen Hake; Liz Johnson; Liz Tolsma; Michelle Ule; Debra Ullrick; Erica Vetsch Wanda E. Brunstetter

  After spending the morning baking and the early afternoon spreading icing on dozens of cookies, trying all the while not to think about Todd and what she would say to him when they met again, rehearsal time loomed. Beth mustered every ounce of courage she possessed to force herself to walk into the church.

  Happy faces greeted her, along with the aroma of pine needles. “Here she is.” Mr. Hampton came forward, took the box she carried, and breathed deeply. “Gingerbread? My favorite.”

  She scanned the small crowd, but Todd wasn’t there. Strangely, her heart didn’t calm. Here she’d hoped to get the first awkwardness behind them, and he wasn’t even there. Guilt clawed up her chest and smothered her racing heart. Her foolishness had sent him all the wrong signals, and now he couldn’t face her. Not only would she not have a chance to apologize, but if he stayed away, who would play Joseph in the pageant, and who would anchor the bass section of the choir? Had she ruined the service by failing to control her feelings?

  “Honey, are you all right?” Sophie patted Beth’s arm. “You look a little … distracted. I’m sure you must’ve worked too hard making all those cookies.”

  “I’m fine, really. Everything’s under control.” She shrugged out of her coat and bonnet and smoothed her hair. “All right, folks. How about we all get into our places, and we’ll run straight through the service without any stops. Let’s see if we can make it mistake free.”

  The door behind her opened, sending a gust of cool air swirling through the room. Beth whirled to see who had arrived, hopeful and fearful that it would be Todd.

  Those hopes and fears were confirmed. Todd stood in the doorway, the trunk of a pine tree over his shoulder and a rope in his other hand. “Sorry I’m late. Can someone give me a hand?”

  Beth froze. She’d thought she was prepared to see him again, prepared to be an adult, to apologize as soon as the situation afforded an opportunity, and move on. But she’d been wrong. She wasn’t prepared at all.

  Her knees went a bit wobbly, and she grabbed the back of the closest pew while several men hurried by to help with the Christmas tree. They dragged the pine up the aisle and set it up in the corner, chattering and laughing.

  Todd remained by the open door, talking to someone outside. Beth did a quick head count. No one was missing. Who could he be talking with? If whoever it was would go away, perhaps she could talk to Todd in private before the rehearsal got started. She’d just peek and find out who it was.

  A strange sound stopped her midstride. Todd flicked a glance over his shoulder and pulled on the rope in his hand. The sound occurred again, preceding a black face and a pair of marble-like eyes. Four hooves and a mass of wool.

  Her jaw dropped. “Wha—” She gulped. “What is that?”

  Todd’s eyebrows rose. “It’s a sheep. Goldenrod, to be specific. I told you last night I had another surprise for you.” He patted the animal’s shaggy head. “Don’t you think she’ll add authenticity to the stable scene? I borrowed her from Anders Granderson’s kids. They keep her as a pet, and she’s as gentle as”—he shrugged, a grin teasing his lips—“a lamb.” He led the ewe a few more steps into the church and shut the door on the cold afternoon air.

  Beth tugged at her lower lip and studied the sheep. The ladies in the cast and choir huddled together, whispering and frowning. “I don’t know, Todd. A live sheep?” His name slipped out easily. At least the animal had managed to break the ice between them—though Todd didn’t seem to be out of sorts at all.

  “Don’t you think the kids will like it?” His eyes held a challenge as if to ask if she was going to let personal feelings interfere with the reason for the service.

  Her chin went up, and she folded her arms at her waist. “Be my guest. Just remember, you’re the one who will need to clean up after the animal.” If he wanted to pretend nothing had happened, that was fine by her.

  Todd led Goldenrod up to the stage. The animal let out a single bleat and folded her legs to subside in a gentle heap on the straw under the stable overhang. She looked bored with the proceedings. Perhaps all would be well after all. Certainly a sheep would entertain the children.

  “All right, folks. Let’s start from the top. Straight through just as if this was the final performance. Don’t stop, even if something goes wrong.” Beth sat at the piano and began the soft opening strains of “Silent Night.” Perfectly on cue, the choir came in. She smiled and nodded. Sweet harmony filled the church, and she could almost see the happy faces of the children beaming in the candlelight. The choir continued into “Hark, the Herald Angels Sing” without a pause.

  Billy Mather stepped to the pulpit and opened his Bible while the nativity players donned their rudimentary costumes and took their places. A quick peek at Goldenrod—eyes closed, slowly grinding her cud. Any minute now, the ewe might begin to snore. At Beth’s nod, Billy began reading from Luke chapter two. Todd knelt beside Mary Kate and the manger, and Sophia and two of her friends in white robes held their arms up when Billy got to the part about the angels appearing to the shepherds. Mr. Hampton and Clive, dressed as shepherds complete with crooked staffs, moved from near the piano to crowd into the stable area to see the Baby Jesus. Everything was subdued with Billy’s voice the only sound in the room.

  Beth, from her position on the piano bench, couldn’t have been more pleased. Not one single stoppage of the program, no arguments, no suggestions, no helpful advice. The dress rehearsal was unfolding nothing like the previous practices, where she couldn’t seem to get any continuity for the interruptions. Everything was all coming together. Billy read slowly, as if savoring the story, just the way she’d asked him to, giving the players time to move without seeming rushed, which would allow the audience time to soak in the sights and sounds.

  Billy closed his Bible after the last verse, and solemnly, the cast stepped onto the risers beside the piano. Time for the finale. She poised her hands over the keys, meeting the eyes of her singers, asking them to give this closing song their very best. Determination glinted in each expression. She raised her wrists and crashed down on the opening chord as the choir launched into “Joy to the World.” The sound was loud and joyful, nearly deafening her with their enthusiasm.

  A very un-joyful noise erupted from the stable area, drowning out the choir, who stumbled to a halt. Beth’s hands faltered on the keys, adding several sour notes to the cacophony. The plank ceiling of the stable rocked, creaked, and disappeared downward with a crash. Necks twisted and craned, and a look of horror shot over the faces of the back row of the choir. Beth was halfway up off the bench when a wool-covered tornado plowed into the singers, sending shepherds’ crooks, angels’ halos, and sopranos’ songbooks skyward.

  Mary Kate screamed and threw herself into Mr. Hampton’s arms. Together they toppled into the bare Christmas tree. Sophia fainted. Fortunately Clive was able to grab her and ease her to the floor. Billy lunged for the rope dangling behind Goldenrod, swinging wildly but coming up empty. Todd leaped after the wooly beast, but she bounded away from him straight toward Beth.

  Beth scrambled backward to avoid the onrushing sheep and stumbled. Her foot caught on the edge of the piano drape and dragged it half off the instrument and right onto Goldenrod’s head. Beth tumbled to the ground, smacking her backside on the puncheon floor and toppling backward against the log wall.

  The candles and holly wreath went flying, and Goldenrod—seemingly enraged by the red cloth now enveloping her—went entirely berserk. Bleating and crying, she dashed here and there, plowing into people, pews, and party decorations. In seconds the church was in shambles, and Beth could only sit and watch as her carefully erected plans exploded.

  Mary Kate continued to emit scream after scream. Choir members huddled and scattered according to their personalities, and through it all Todd and Billy ran and dodged, shouted and pointed, trying to corner the demented sheep long enough to at least drag the piano drape off her head.

  The final coup de grâce occurred when Goldenrod
managed to shake loose from the cloth and, looking for a target for her rage, barreled into the refreshment table. Jugs of cider, a punch bowl, ranks of punch cups, and ten dozen icedgingerbread cookies defied gravity and hovered in midair before plummeting to the floor in a cinnamon-spicy, glass-shard-inducing crash.

  The sheep skidded to a halt, wheeled, and lowered her head to charge in another direction. Before she could move, Todd pounced on her and brought her to the floor near the door, where Billy caught up to them and added his weight to the kicking ewe. He wrapped his arms around her legs while Todd leaned on her neck.

  Thus subdued, Goldenrod gave one last bleat and stopped squirming. This turn of events did nothing to stop Mary Kate’s screams, though the rest of the choir seemed to relax a fraction and stop contemplating climbing to the rafters for safety.

  Beth blinked, ran her hand over her eyes, and stared at the disaster. “What happened?” she shouted to Todd over Mary Kate’s screams.

  “I think we scared her.” His reply seemed a bit strangled.

  “Of course she’s scared. A sheep just launched herself into the middle of the choir.” Beth rounded the piano and patted Mary Kate on the arm. What she’d really like to do is clap her hand over that mouth and muffle the shrieks. The danger had subsided. It was time for Mary Kate to quit peeling bark off the walls with her ear-piercing wails. Beth pushed herself up and headed toward the pile of men and wool on the floor near the door.

  Billy choked and snorted and then gave up the fight, collapsing into laughter. Todd grimaced and appeared to be trying to hold it in, but he, too, lost the battle. His loud guffaws echoed off the log walls and nearly lifted the rafters. “I meant”—he managed between bouts of laughter—“that we scared the sheep.”

  A river of sticky-sweet cider raced toward them, carrying soggy gingerbread cookies like life rafts on a current. Snatching up the piano drape, Beth stemmed the flow. The fabric darkened as it soaked up the beverage.

  From her position by the door, Beth assessed the damage while trying to hold on to her temper. Christmas carnage greeted her eyes everywhere she looked. Praying for patience, she tried to hold back the wave of despair building in her chest.

  “Enough!” Beth spat the word at Mary Kate, who had just sucked in another enormous breath, ready to let loose another screech. Mary Kate swallowed her scream with a hiccup. “The animal is subdued. There is no reason to go on with your hysterics. Pull yourself together.” She rounded on Todd and Billy, who still laughed uncontrollably, pinning Goldenrod to the floor. “You, too. Stop laughing. It’s not funny. Todd Rambek, this is all your fault. You brought that beast in here deliberately to ruin my Christmas service. After all my hard work.”

  The sob she had tried to quell forced its way up her throat and past her clenched teeth. Horrified at losing control, she stumbled outside, slamming the door on the debacle.

  Chapter 6

  Todd levered himself off the floor and made sure he had a firm hold of Goldenrod’s rope. Billy rolled off her legs and sat up, still chuckling, though he had a guilty tilt to his shoulders. He grasped Todd’s offered hand and allowed himself to be pulled upright.

  Goldenrod lumbered to her feet, bent her head to sniff the puddle of cider, and lapped a few tonguefulls. She lifted her head, shook herself, and looked around the room with a quizzical expression as if to say, “What happened in here?”

  Todd shrugged and rubbed his palm up the back of his head. “What a mess.” At that moment, one of the carefully constructed wreaths hanging in a window gave up the fight and dropped to the floor, taking a string of garland with it.

  “What are you going to do?” Billy shoved his hands in his pockets and grimaced.

  Guilt, his constant companion since he had lost his head and kissed Beth last night, stomped through his chest and set up a racket near his conscience. Why did it seem that everything he did with the intention of pleasing her ended with her running away from him? He gritted his teeth and called himself all kinds of a fool.

  “We’re going to get this cleaned up.” He handed the rope to Billy. “Stay here, and don’t let go of that sheep.” Marching to the front of the church, he began issuing orders. “All right. This little disaster is my fault, and we don’t have much time to get it cleaned up before the program is supposed to start. Beth is really upset, and I know she must be thinking there’s no way we can have a program now, but that’s not true. We can, but not without her. First, we all need to pitch in and get everything put to rights. Clive, you and Hampton rebuild that stable. Mary Kate, are you all right?”

  She sniffed and swallowed. “I think I’ve hurt my wrist.” Still trembling, she held up her arm, bracing it with the other hand.

  “I’m so sorry, Mary Kate.” He motioned to one of the ladies. “See if you can help Mary Kate out. The rest of you, get cracking on the cleanup. Salvage what you can; throw out the rest. Be careful with that broken glass.” Todd turned to Sophie. “I don’t suppose you have any of that fruitcake available, do you?”

  Sophie gave him a gamine grin and patted his arm. She motioned for him to bend down so she could whisper in his ear. He had to bend a very long way to hear her. “I made up a big batch this morning, just in case. I was planning to give them out as Christmas gifts, but this need is more pressing.”

  He engulfed her little hand in his. “That’s great. Why don’t you head home and get the cakes? Take someone along to help if you need to. And round up some cider if you can. If not, we’ll serve water.”

  As soon as everyone set to work, Todd returned to Billy. “See what you can do about hanging up that garland and stuff. Set that tree up. You can start putting the presents on it when everything else is done. That was the last thing we needed to do after the practice anyway.”

  “What are you going to do? And what should I do with her?” Billy lifted Goldenrod’s rope.

  Todd took the rope. “I’m going to tie her up outside, and then I’m going after Beth.”

  Billy pulled a face. “She was pretty upset. Don’t you think you should give her a little time to cool off?”

  “We can’t afford to. There will hardly be time for us to finish here, get home for a quick supper, and get back before the service is supposed to start. We can’t let Beth down. She’s worked so hard.” He lifted his coat from one of the back pews and shouldered his way into it. Giving the rope a tug, he scowled at the sheep. “C’mon, you. Let’s get out of here before you start another riot.”

  Stepping out into the frosty air, he noted that the sun had gone down. Faint stars winked through the treetops, and as the darkness intensified, the stars glowed brighter. He made Goldenrod’s rope fast to a hitching post out front and studied the snow around the church. Hundreds of footprints pocked the path, but one fresh set caught his eye, a set that veered toward the track he and Beth had taken last night to see the Christmas tree.

  His heart beat thick. She hadn’t headed home. And she had no coat. He hurried inside and tossed through the stack of coats on a back table until he found the green plaid he’d know anywhere.

  Tramping through the woods, he tried to formulate what he would say to her, but everything after “I’m sorry” got stuck. He walked faster as the cold settled in and flowed over his face like icy water.

  He found her standing in the snow, arms wrapped around her waist, chin on her chest, beside the empty place where the Christmas tree had stood until he’d removed it to bring into the church. Her look of utter defeat ran him through like a peavey spike. His lungs sent plumes of frosty breath into the air.

  When he stood only a few feet from her, he called her name, not wanting to frighten her. There’d been enough frightening going on today. “Beth?”

  She flinched but didn’t look up.

  “I brought your coat.” He stepped closer and held up the garment. When she didn’t move her arms to slip it on, he draped it around her shoulders. “Beth, I’m so sorry. I had no idea Goldenrod would go mad like that.” At the mental ima
ge of the maniacal sheep wearing the piano drape, a chuckle bubbled into his chest, but he stifled it. “If you think about it, it is a little bit funny.” He tilted his head and invited her to laugh with him.

  Nothing. Not a trace of humor. In fact, her lower lip trembled in a way that made his insides turn to water. Surely she wasn’t going to cry? And what on earth would he do if she did?

  “Beth, please. I truly am sorry. Don’t cry. Everyone’s pitching in to clean things up. We can still have the service tonight. Nothing’s really ruined.” He scratched his head. “Well, the cider and cookies are, but we’re taking care of that.”

  She gave a strange hiccupping sound and clutched the edges of her coat. “You don’t understand.”

  He spread his hands. “Then tell me. I want to understand. I want to make everything all right—with the church service and with us.” Moving to stand before her, he put his finger under her chin and raised her face to look into her eyes. Starlight softened her features, and tears hung like diamonds on her dark lashes. “Beth, I stood right here last night and held you in my arms, and I know you felt something for me. You have to know that I love you. If we could just talk this out, you’ll see that everything is going to be fine.”

  She rocked back, jarring his finger from her chin. “You don’t get it, do you? I can accept your apology for the sheep disaster, but I can’t accept your love.” She took a couple steps back, putting distance between them. Her coat slid from one shoulder and trailed in the snow. “I can’t allow myself to love you, because I’ve been called to serve God.”

  He blinked. Somewhere his chain of thought had broken a link. Or hers had. He squinted and shook his head. “How would loving me mean that you couldn’t serve God?” Though thoroughly puzzled, a spark of hope fanned to life in his chest. She hadn’t said, “I can’t love you,” but rather, “I can’t let myself love you.”