Christmas in Sugarcreek (11 page)

He opened his door and hopped out. “Don’t worry,” he said as he helped her down and then unfastened the leads around Beauty. “I know nothing will come of it. I know you would never feel the same.”

Her face was so heated, her emotions in such turmoil . . . Judith scurried past him and unlocked the door. Flicking switches, she turned up the heat and the lights as she walked toward the front of the store. As the scent of cinnamon and peppermint wafted through the air and a hint of orange gingerbread tickled her senses, Judith sorted through everything she’d just heard.

Tried to catch her breath.

And realized, right there and then, that Benjamin Knox might be right about a lot of things, but he was terribly wrong, too.

Though some people might never ever like him, she was not one of those people.

And really never had been.

What was true then was true now.

She still liked him very much.

But how could she ever tell him?

Chapter Fourteen

Four Days Until Christmas

“R
ebecca, there’s one last basket to deliver,” Caleb announced as they entered the back of his family’s store. Judith had told them the baskets could be held in the refrigerated section for as long as needed, but now it was time to finish passing them out. In another hour it would be getting dark. And though it wasn’t snowing, the clouds were foreboding enough to signal that snow was on the way. He didn’t want to worry about Rebecca getting home safely.

As Becca walked toward him—she’d gone inside the store to say hello to his sister—her eyes lit up. “Only one basket left? Thank goodness. With each delivery, the baskets felt like they grew in size. My arms are getting tired.”

“I bet.” Each one truly had seemed a little heavier than the last. Thinking of their last delivery, he wiped a hand over her brow. “I thought I was never going to get to put Mrs. Schrock’s basket down.”

Rebecca giggled. “It did look doubtful. She had you holding it for a good fifteen minutes while she picked the perfect spot.”

With each passing minute the filled basket had felt like it had gained a load of bricks. “My arms were groaning so much, I was tempted to drop it onto the floor and walk away.”

“But you didn’t.”

“I was closer than you think.”

She giggled. “At least it’s all over now. I’ll take care of this one, Caleb.”

“Of course you won’t.” Now side by side in the cool room, he playfully flexed his arms. “We’re in this together, you know. I would never let you deliver it without me. Who does it go to?”

“Oh, no one you know.”

Surprised, he turned to her. There was something new in her voice. Hesitation? Worry? “Why wouldn’t I know this family?” he asked, scanning her face for clues.

“They don’t get out too much.”

“But still, I’m sure I know them. I’ve known everyone else.”

“It’s just . . .” her cheeks bloomed. “This family is pretty proud. I think it would be better if I delivered it. By myself. Just so they don’t get embarrassed.”

Now he was a little bit offended. “I can keep a secret, Becca.”

“I know you can.” She turned away, fussed with one of the towels folded in the basket.

But she obviously didn’t. “Rebecca, you don’t think I would go tell people about these needy families, do ya? Or worse, talk about them? Because I wouldn’t.” Did she honestly think he would be so cruel? “I’m happy to help others. I’m not looking to make myself feel better by comparing their circumstances. I’m not like that.”

She bit her lip, looking more and more troubled. “Caleb, don’t worry so. It’s just, well . . . you’ve done enough. I’ll take care of this one. It would be best.”

To his amazement, she walked right in front of him and reached out for the basket. Just as if she carried heavy things down all over Sugarcreek all the time.

Not even thinking, he stepped in front of her, blocking her way. “No.”

She stilled. “No?”

“Rebecca, no way am I going to let you do that. These baskets are heavy. I’d say they’re easily over fifty pounds.” Because that didn’t sound all that heavy, he added, “At least sixty pounds. They might even be closer to seventy. Or even more. They’re way too heavy for you to carry. You could hurt yourself.”

Once again, she stepped to the side. “I’ll be okay.”

“No you won’t. Even if they weren’t so heavy, it’s going to be dark out soon.”

She sighed. “Caleb—”

“Rebecca.” Though he was acting childish, he darted in front of her and clasped the basket tight. His sore muscles strained a bit as he held it up. “I’ve started this project with you, and I’m going to see it through. Let’s go.”

“Caleb . . .”

“Open the door for me so I can put this in the back of the buggy,” he ordered. He didn’t like to speak to her in such a harsh tone of voice, but his frustration with her stubborn nature was getting the best of him. He was trying to look out for her. Help her. Didn’t she see that?

After another incredibly long minute, Rebecca did as he bid, then helped him get the basket secure in the back of his courting buggy.

Though he knew he probably shouldn’t feel so full of himself, he puffed up with masculine pride. Finally, he was getting what he wanted: the chance to take care of her. To help her. Maybe even for always. “Do you have all of your things? Because I intend to take you home afterward.”

He paused, half waiting for her to fight him again.

But instead of doing that, she climbed into the buggy seat.
“Jah.”

He could tell she was upset. Caleb thought about apologizing, but in a flash, he recalled all the times he’d watched his older brother Joshua taking care of Gretta. Without fail, he’d helped her into the buggy, or fetched her things when she’d been as big as a house at the end of her pregnancy.

Now, even when they came back home for a visit, Joshua waited on his wife, getting Gretta a cup of tea, or encouraging her to lie down when it was obvious to one and all that baby Will had tired out his mother.

Everyone in the family had smiled at the sight of Josh fussing with cups and saucers, but inside, Caleb knew the entire family was proud of the man the oldest Graber had become.

And that—for better or worse—was how Caleb wanted to be. He wanted to be a man Rebecca could depend on, no matter what. Not just for lifting heavy baskets, but for dealing with heavy issues, too.

After folding a thick wool blanket around both their laps, he said, “Where to?”

“Down the street. Then turn on Fourth.”

“All right.” With a click, he motioned Star forward, out of the covering and into the sunlight.

They turned right, then with a click of the reins, Star picked up her pace. Along she went, head high, seeming eager to prance among the festive decorations strung along the hills of Main Street. Star’s quick, steady gait kept a breeze blowing around them, chafing his cheeks and ears.

“Are you cold?”

Rebecca shrugged. “Only a little.”

“Why don’t you scoot a little closer? You’d be warmer.”

After a second’s hesitation, she took his advice and moved next to him. The moment they made contact, her body heat mixed with his.

When they came to Fourth Street, he turned right. “Where to now?”

“At the stop sign, turn left.”

Caleb nodded, worried about her. She sounded so sad. Like she was on her way to a funeral or something. And after he turned left, he slowed Star a bit. “And now?”

“In three blocks, turn right. The house is the first on the left.”

“All right.” Looking around, Caleb felt so proud of himself for volunteering to help Rebecca. Here in this part of Sugarcreek, most of the houses were very small, some in disrepair.

A couple of the houses were owned by
Englischers
—there were old cars in the driveways. A couple other houses looked Amish; they were dark and void of decorations.

However, cloaking it all was the prevailing feeling of need and want.

Those were foreign feelings. He’d never gone hungry; it was pretty much an impossibility when your family owned a store, he supposed.

He hated the idea of someone having nothing to eat in the middle of the winter like this. Especially during the blessed Christmas season.

And though they hadn’t delivered a basket to a person who hadn’t been gracious and thankful, the truth was, he didn’t feel great about Rebecca visiting one of these houses alone. Even the Amish weren’t always polite. Even some of their community could be harsh or grumpy or had tempers. . .

Some might not be suitable company for someone as sweet and kind as Rebecca Yoder.

At last, he pulled to a stop in front of a terribly rundown house. Paint was peeling off the siding, old shades showed through the windows. But more than that, there was such a sense of depression mixed with desperation about the place, that it felt almost contagious.

That feeling, mixed with Rebecca’s withdrawn attitude, finally made sense. This place made her nervous.

Well, he could understand that. The place looked so neglected, it stood to reason that whoever lived there might feel hopeless enough to be dangerous. Especially to a sweet woman like Becca.

Since he was especially eager to do whatever it took to make her happy, he decided to take charge.

“Here we are,” he said with more than a solid helping of false brightness. “How about you just wait here while I go deliver this? It won’t take long, and you can stay warm.” Though they’d delivered the other baskets together, he didn’t think she’d mind skipping out on this one.

But instead of looking relieved, Rebecca’s eyes turned teary.

“Don’t worry, I’ll tell them this basket is your doing . . .” he said softly, though he didn’t know why he said such a thing. Never once had she acted like she needed to hear praise for her actions. “They’ll understand you needing to stay here under the blanket.”

“Stop,” she blurted.

“Stop?” He turned to her. Twin tears traipsed down her cheeks. Breaking his heart. “Becca, sweetheart . . . What is wrong?” As he heard his words, he felt himself blush. For sure she had to be shocked that he uttered such an endearment.

But if anything, the tears only fell a little faster.

Unable to stop himself, he brushed a tear away with the side of his thumb. Her eyes closed, and he could have sworn he heard her sigh. “Becca?”

Just as she opened her mouth, the front door of the house opened and a woman came out. “Rebecca? What are you doing just sitting out here?” Crossing her arms over her chest, she looked at Caleb and frowned. “And who are you?”

As he sat beside her, stunned, Rebecca scrambled off of the seat. “Nothing, Mamm.”

Mamm?
This was her mother? This was her house?

Though he was shocked as could be, he darted out and approached her mother. “Hi, Mrs. Yoder. I’m Caleb Graber.”

“And I’m Mrs. Yoder. Rebecca’s mother, of course.” With a soft smile at Rebecca, who still hadn’t joined them, Mrs. Yoder said, “Rebecca has told me that she’s been spending a lot of time with you—I wondered when you were going to take the time to visit her here.”

Rebecca’s cheeks burned bright. “Mamm, don’t.”

Pushing aside his excuses—the almost overwhelming need to assure Mrs. Yoder that he had tried to come calling at her home—Caleb spoke quickly. “
Jah.
I’ve been helping her with the Christmas baskets,” he said. Then, seeing the pained expression on Rebecca’s face, wished he could have cut his tongue out. “I mean, I like being with Rebecca.”

Mrs. Yoder smiled distractedly, now looking at the big basket in the back of his buggy. “Is that one of them?”

Looking at Rebecca, who still wouldn’t meet his gaze, Caleb nodded. “It is. And it just happens to be for your family.”

“Really? My goodness, that’s a beautiful basket.”

“Everyone has seemed to really like them,” he said, walking to the back of the buggy. “I’ll bring this one inside for you.”

“Nee,”
Rebecca blurted. “I’ll take care of it.”

Though he knew this moment was paining her, that she was embarrassed, Caleb instinctively knew that if he stepped away now, he might never get her back. “I am going to carry this for you,” he said gently. “I am going to carry this inside your home.”

Looking miserable, she walked to her mother, who led them inside.

Arms full of basket, Caleb followed as best as he could, taking care not to trip on the single step leading into the house.

Inside, the house looked as rundown as the outside. The furniture was scarred and marked. It was dark and quiet. And cool. Almost cold.

Ten steps later, he arrived in the kitchen. With relief, he set the basket down.

“Caleb.
Danke.
It was good of you to help Rebecca bring this here.”

“I wanted to,” he said with a smile, just as Amanda, Rebecca’s younger sister, appeared out of a back room. “Hi, Mandy.”

Amanda, three years younger than Rebecca but so very far from her older sister in temperament, grinned his way. “Hi, Caleb,” she said, then stared at the basket in wonder. “What’s this?”

“Rebecca and I have been delivering Christmas baskets. Because we helped, we each get one. I’m just helping her get hers home.”

Fingering the wicker, Mrs. Yoder glanced his way. “Indeed? You got one, too?”

“For sure,” he lied. Though he knew he shouldn’t be telling such tales, he was eager to do anything to make Rebecca feel less self-conscious.

Mandy circled the basket like a curious bird, her fingers darting and pointing at the contents. “Mamm, look! There’re towels and braided bread. And cookies!”

Mandy’s enthusiasm made Caleb grin. But if anything, Rebecca looked even paler. In addition, she seemed to be refusing to meet his gaze. Her head was tilted toward the floor, shame emanating in sharp waves.