The Sound of Sleigh Bells (10 page)

Inside lay a hand-carved gift box. The image he’d carved thrilled her. She clutched it against herself and hurried down the steps, then ran across the road and let herself in at Lizzy’s. The bishop sat across the table from her aunt with a cup of coffee in his hand. Papers were spread on the table between them.

It took only a brief glance to remember her aunt was planning her annual communitywide dinner, dessert, and hayride. Each year she invited all the Amish singles from communities far and wide to come. Those who lived a good distance away would stay for at least one night, often two. For all Lizzy’s years of living single, she seemed to have matchmaking in her blood, and many a couple had found each other through these events.

Too excited to ask how the plans were coming, Beth thrust the box toward Lizzy. “Look.” She cleared her throat, trying to regain some sense of calm. “Look at what Jonah carved. Did you tell him?”

A look passed between her aunt and the bishop, but Beth didn’t care if he minded that Jonah had sent her a carved gift.

Lizzy’s eyes brimmed with tears even before she looked at the item. “Tell him what?”

“Is something wrong?” Beth glanced at the bishop.

“The excitement in your eyes and voice.” Lizzy rose and cupped Beth’s cheeks between her hands. “That’s all.”

Realizing anew how her sorrow and guilt grieved Lizzy too, Beth hugged her. She’d tried to spare her aunt as much as she could with her silence, but it must not have been enough.

As Beth stepped back, Lizzy wiped the tears from her face. “Let’s see what has you glowing.” Her aunt peered inside the cardboard box and touched the carved sleigh and its two riders. “No, Beth, I didn’t tell him.”

Beth brushed her finger along the side of the sleigh. “He even carved sleigh bells just like the etched bronze ones I love so much.”

“What didn’t your aunt tell him?” Omar asked.

Beth took the box with her as she moved to a kitchen chair. “I know you remember when my family could barely keep food on the table.”

“I remember. Blessings galore but hardly any money.”

“Well, whenever Daed asked what I wanted for Christmas, I always wanted a sleigh ride. But we didn’t own a sleigh, and he must not have known anyone who did, because year after year Christmas came and went without me getting a sleigh ride.”

“But he tried other things.” Lizzy suppressed a smile.

Recalling half a dozen inventive ideas her father had come up with instead, Beth broke into laughter, and Lizzy joined her. How long had it been since she remembered something fun…and guilt free?

“Ya, he did. One year he fastened a saucer sled behind a horse and put me in his lap.” Beth rubbed her head, mocking pain. “If you know anything about saucers, you know we were bound to fly into something at full speed. And we did, but between our heavy clothing and the thick snow, neither of us was seriously hurt.”

Lizzy took a mug from the cupboard and filled it with coffee before setting it in front of Beth. “If I remember right, one year he attached a tarp to the back of a wagon, but the rope broke and slung you and your Daed into the road.”

“We must have skidded on our backsides twenty feet before stopping.” Beth lifted the wooden treasure out of its cardboard box and noticed Jonah had carved scenes all the way around it. When she lifted the lid, she discovered a note.

D
EAR
B
ETH
,

M
AY THESE SCENES FILL YOUR MIND WITH SERENE THOUGHTS SO THAT GOOD DREAMS FOLLOW
.

P
SALM 4:8 —
I
WILL LIE DOWN AND SLEEP IN PEACE, FOR YOU ALONE
, O L
ORD, MAKE ME DWELL IN SAFETY
.

J
ONAH

The note made her feel warm and safe, but holding on to any good feelings had been impossible this past year. She’d made her peace with God concerning Henry. That didn’t weigh on her. She trusted Him and His judgment. Unfortunately, she didn’t trust her emotions or judgment.

Without sharing what Jonah had written, Beth tucked the note back into the gift box. “I should go.”

“Don’t you want to stay and drink some coffee with us?”

Beth shook her head. “I want to write Jonah. I’ll have the buggy hitched at seven thirty in the morning so we can help Mamm get the beds made and the breakfast dishes washed before anyone arrives for church. I’ll see you then.”

The air around Lizzy vibrated with hope and fear. When Beth learned the truth about Jonah—which she was bound to do—would she hold a grudge against her like she’d held on to her grief? The question bothered her, but the risk would be worth the price if it helped Beth more than it hurt her.

Lizzy had confessed her deception to Omar, and in spite of his disapproval, he’d not insisted she tell Beth or Jonah. Instead, he’d asked her to pray and to be very careful to hear God.

Omar stirred his coffee, making a clinking sound against the mug. “When will it dawn on her that I’m not visiting this often because of my duties as a bishop?”

Lizzy felt her cheeks turn pink. It seemed too adolescent to be in love for the first time in her long life. “I’m hoping the two of you can work some things out first.”

Omar slid his hand toward hers, making her heart pound, but then he stopped and returned it to his lap. His sense of propriety ran deep. He’d not even touched her hand when they were alone, and he couldn’t touch her when around others—not yet, maybe not ever. His position as bishop required him to be above reproach, even more than regular folk.

A lopsided smile etched his ruggedly handsome face. “It’s not enough that I’ve spent two years earning your approval. Now I need Beth’s too?” There was humor in his voice, but she also heard concern.

“She’s the closest thing I’ll ever have to a child of my own.”

“And she’ll always be deeply special to you. She’s a part of you and you of her, but we don’t know that you’ll never have a baby, Lizzy. You’re thirty-eight. We’ve seen women give birth well into their midforties.”

“Ya, women who have been having babies half their lives. Their bodies are primed, like a pump that leads to a spring-fed well. And mine is a desert.”

A tender, adorable smile radiated from him. “Will you mind too much if we can’t have a child of our own?”

Lizzy drew a deep breath, basking in the warmth of the newly burning fire within her. “I never expected to find love. I’ll be content forever.”

“And after I buried Ruth and spent years raising my children, I never considered I might find love again.”

Lizzy’s heart turned a flip. Did he practice saying the right thing? “I need you and Beth to…to bond. I don’t want to lose a child in order to gain a husband.”

“You know that I wish Jonah’s work didn’t feel like a graven image to me. It’s not so much the gift box or wind chimes as those statuelike items he makes. Perhaps I should go see his bishop. Maybe I’d come to see those carvings differently.”

“But the bishop is Jonah’s own Daed. You could spill my secret without meaning to.”

A troubled look removed every hint of a smile, and he went to the coatrack. He took his hat and jacket. “How long will you carry out this secret plan of yours?”

“You saw her tonight. She’s on the brink of embracing life again, but she needs more time. I just hope the truth doesn’t disclose itself too soon. I had to mark through one of the lines he’d written in his last letter to her. He’d written, ‘Your voice on paper sounds so much different than it did in person.’“

“Smart man to figure that out so quickly. And he’s in the hands of an amateur romantic.” Omar winked at her and put his black hat on. “I’d say this pretense won’t last much longer.” He moved closer, concern evident in his eyes. “And I pray when it ends, that you are not the one who loses. But whatever happens, I understand what you did and why.” He dipped his head once, his eyes glancing to her lips, before returning to her eyes. So many words and feelings ran between them that they were not yet free to express. “Good night, Lizzy.”

F
eeling hungry, Jonah set his v-tool on the worktable in his living room. His shop was functional, but it was also drafty and physically uncomfortable after a long day at the lumbermill. Rather than sitting on a stool at his workbench, he’d brought the wood into his home.

His desire to carve again had been reawakened by Beth’s keen interest in his skill. Once he had the tools in his hands, his passion for the craft seeped back in. After completing her gift box, he’d immediately moved on to another project.

He carried a kerosene lamp to the kitchen, where he lit the eyes to his gas stove, then placed the camp-stove toaster over one and a cast-iron skillet on the other one. He grabbed a loaf of bread and put a slice of bread in two of the four toaster slots before getting a carton of eggs out of the refrigerator.

When someone knocked, he hollered for her to come in. The menfolk walked straight in, so his visitor had to be female—his mother, grandmother, a sister, or a sister-in-law. He cracked an egg into a bowl and glanced up to see his grandmother.

“Hello, Mammi. What brings you out at dinnertime on a drizzly evening like this?”

“You received a letter.”

He wiped his hands on a kitchen towel. “Already?”

“Actually it came yesterday, and I planned to pass it to you when you came by, but you never did.” She looked around his house. “You’re carving again.”

“Ya, appears so.” He shifted. “The letter?”

“Oh, ya.” She pulled her arms free of her black shawl and passed him the envelope.

Just as he expected—as he’d hoped—it was from Beth.

“Jonah.” His grandmother’s sharp tone made him look up. She hurried to the stove and jammed a fork into a piece of smoking toast. She flung it into the sink and stabbed the other one.

He turned off the stove eye. “Only one side is burnt. The other side is still edible.”

She huffed at him and turned on the water. “Not anymore.” They laughed, and then she gave him that grandmotherly look of hers. “Why don’t you come over to the house? I have plenty of leftovers I can reheat for you. We had beef stew. That’ll be better for you and warm your insides.”

He wasn’t as hungry as he was interested in reading Beth’s letter. “I think I’ll stay here. If I change my mind, you’ll know.”

She raised her eyebrows but said nothing else. “All right, then. Good night.”

As she left, Jonah opened the letter and removed it from the envelope.

Dear Jonah,

What a great storyteller you are. Since I don’t have your gift for words, I can’t really share what your letter meant to me. When I opened the package, I couldn’t believe my eyes. You see, sleighs have always been a dream and fond memory of mine. I’m so excited to have another item made from the wood you dragged out of that canyon. Although I must confess you do sound, as you said yourself, extremely stubborn.

The beauty of that box and of your friendship means so much.

We were very poor during most of my childhood. I had one Christmas wish year after year—to ride in a sleigh. But in spite of his best and sometimes dangerous efforts, my Daed could not make that Christmas dream come true. By the time I turned eight, I understood the constraints of money and made a point to always ask for something my father could provide. So I’d choose something from my aunt’s store, like a few yards of fabric for a new dress or a favorite piece of candy. That way he could buy it at cost.

One Christmas Eve after my married siblings had gone home and my younger ones had gone to bed, my father went to my uncle’s home to gather the gifts for Christmas morn…or so I thought. At the request of my mother, I stood on the porch, cleaning snow and ice off the steps so my father wouldn’t fall when he returned.