The Sound of Sleigh Bells (6 page)

She stepped closer, awed at the find. “They sound like children whispering and laughing. How is that possible?”

“They’re designed to make inviting tones. I’ve found that what a person hears tends to vary.” His brown eyes held no pity concerning her intelligence and no judgment against her behavior. Whoever he was, she was glad he’d been the one to discover her on her knees beside a broken sleigh and not someone more critical.

“Does this Jonah Kinsinger make these too?”

“I do.”

Startled, she tried not to look too surprised. “You do?”

He nodded.

“And the large carving from Pete’s—you did that too?”

“Yes. Pete said that you liked it and that he gave you my address.”

Her conscience pricked when he mistook her for Beth, but something told her not to correct him. The business cards and catalogs they passed out had the store’s name and phone number and the name Elizabeth Hertzler. It wasn’t the Amish way to promote an individual, so if people knew how to reach “Elizabeth” at the store, that was all they needed to know.

“But I don’t understand. I thought you would be old.”

“Probably because Pete’s called me Old Man since I was five, when he began teaching me how to whittle.”

Her nerves were still on edge, and she tried to gather herself. “Your bishop allows you to sell your carvings, including the wind chimes?”

He motioned to a set of chairs under the shade of the gazebo. “You look a bit pale. Would you like to sit for a spell?”

“Very much. Denki.”

“Can I get you a glass of water? My place is just beyond those trees.”

“No. I’m fine.” As she said the word
fine
to describe herself, visions of her beautiful, lonely niece entered her mind. She took a seat. “So your bishop doesn’t feel that you’re creating graven images?”

“Well, he might have had a few reservations. You’d need to talk to him about that. Over the years I’ve wondered if his decision was based on favoritism.”

As the eeriness from earlier began to fade, she saw a depth in his eyes that drew her like his work had drawn her niece. “Favoritism?”

“When I was injured at fifteen, I couldn’t get around well enough to do an apprenticeship, so he allowed me to do something I’d had the ability for since I was young.” Jonah shrugged, and a mischievous smile seemed to come out of hiding. “The bishop’s my Daed.”

“Oh.” She studied the intricate details of the wind chimes. “I’m afraid that’s not much help to me. I’ve thought about carrying your work in my store, but your father allowing you isn’t likely to convince my bishop.”

“I’m not really interested in creating pieces on demand to sell, anyway.”

“Not interested? Your work is gorgeous, and it touched the very soul of…” A thought swept through her, scattering pieces of a plan across her like sawdust caught in the wind.

Beth
.

Jonah’s work stirred her. Called to her. Wakened her. But whatever else it did, it refused to be ignored. Beth could ignore her own needs, her own heart, and forge ahead with life, but she hadn’t tuned out the artistry of Jonah Kinsinger.

As she looked at this young man, knowing Beth felt a connection, the plan unrolled inside her.

She stared into his eyes, hoping what she was about to do was the right thing. “Giving it up for a girl, are you?”

Jonah laughed. “I never said I was giving it up.” Using his thumb, he pushed his straw hat back a little. The gesture revealed two missing fingers, probably more damage sustained in the accident. “It’s not about money.”

“I’m sure it’s not.” Lizzy moved to the edge of the gazebo. The place was an odd mixture—a rather dilapidated building attached to a much newer shop. A beautiful garden area with an expensive gazebo behind the old place. To her left, a recently built cabin almost hidden behind a grove of ancient trees.

And a handsome young man with a skill that calls to my niece
.

“Your carving seems to carry life in it.”

Somber as a church meeting, he gazed at her. “The piece you wish to sell in your store was a royal pain from the get-go. The tree lay at the bottom of a gorge, and I tried to ignore it for months. But by last winter I couldn’t disregard it any longer, so I wrestled it out with my brother’s help and took it to my shop.” He leaned back against the railing. “And the truth is, I was glad to be done with it. Just as soon not have that experience again. So if you’re looking for a carver, I’m probably not your man.”

“Is that why there’s a layer of dust on your tools and the wood on your workbench?”

“The only thing I made out of that tree was the carving you bought. I cut other pieces with the intention of carving scenes in each, but…it’s just not in me. Still, I guess I’d be pleased to sell or put on consignment whatever is in my shop that I’ve made from other trees.”

“This isn’t what I expected when I came here. You’re supposed to be excited and trying to convince me to get permission to carry these items.”

He smiled and cradled one chime in the palm of his hand. “When I was injured, if my Daed hadn’t given me freedom to carve, I’m not sure I could have stood it. I was stuck in a wheelchair for nearly a year. Lost all sense of who I’d thought I was. Surgeries and physical therapy were constant and painful. And as selfish as it sounds now, being without two fingers felt totally humiliating, like God had singled me out to mock. My Daed gave me a way to transfer my emotions into a lump of wood.” He released the chime, making lovely tones float through the air.

Wishing Beth could hear this man’s understanding of life after loss, Lizzy’s plan became clearer to her. “I’ve never married, so I don’t have children, but I do have someone I love as if she were my own. And right now she’s in that bad place you spoke of. But it’s been nearly a year and a half since her loss, and I don’t know why it continues to be so heavy.”

“Maybe for you it wouldn’t be, but for her it is.”

A dinner bell clanged loudly.

He motioned to the steps of the gazebo. “Come eat with us, Elizabeth. It’s our family’s once-a-month workweek gathering. You can meet all sorts of Kinsingers and three other Jonahs. Afterward, I’ll load you up with the carvings I do have.”

When he spoke her full name instead of her nickname, Lizzy knew the door to her hope stood wide open. As they walked around the side of the building, she saw Gloria waiting for her. “I can’t stay.” She stared into the crystal blue sky. Part of her felt as if she was about to follow God’s leading, and part of her felt like a manipulative woman.

Hoping her plan didn’t push Beth further from her, she dared to give her idea a try. “Jonah, meeting you today has been the best treat I’ve had in a long time. I’m hoping you’d be willing to keep in touch with me by mail.”

The way he looked at her, she knew he thought she was a bit off-center. Still, he nodded. “I suppose that’d be fine.”

“Good.” She stopped at the foot of the steps that led to what had to be his grandmother’s place. “Did Pete give you my card, or do I need to get one for you?”

“He passed it to me.”

“Even though it says Elizabeth Hertzler, you should write to Beth. I mean…” She tried to word it so she wasn’t actually lying. “Beth, Lizzy, Elizabeth—they’re all forms of my name.”

He raised both eyebrows, looking more skeptical. “Beth.” He lightly spoke the name without relaying either question or statement in his tone. “Pete did say you went by Beth.”

Her throat seemed to close, but she pressed on anyway, hoping Pete hadn’t said anything about Beth’s age. “And you shouldn’t feel obligated to write that it was good to meet me. I mean, we can say that right now and skip the fluff in the letters. Don’t you think?”

Lines deepened as he looked at her much like he had when he’d found her by the broken sleigh.

“Jonah.” A tall, gray-haired man stepped onto the porch, and relief that she could stop stammering flooded her. “Will your guests be staying for lunch? We have plenty.”

Jonah looked at her. “You’re welcome to stay.”

“I really need to load up some of your carvings so I can be on my way. Hopefully, I’ll be able to talk Omar into letting us carry them in our dry goods store.”

Jonah nodded and turned to the man on the porch.
“Daadi
, this is Elizabeth Hertzler from Apple Ridge, Pennsylvania. She owns a store there. Elizabeth…Beth, this is my grandfather, Jonah Kinsinger.”

The man descended the steps. “Apple Ridge?” He said the name thoughtfully, and she realized he was trying to think of any Amish he might know from the area. She wanted to avoid that conversation before her letter-writing plan was ruined.

“It’s so good to meet you. Your grandson has quite a skill for carving.”

The older Jonah smiled broadly. “Can’t say he’s ever set his hand to anything he didn’t become remarkable at.”

Jonah smiled. “The favoritism thing I mentioned earlier? Uh, it runs in the family.”

Lizzy chuckled. “I really do need to get going.”

“Ya, Pete said you kept to a schedule.” He turned to his grandfather. “Tell Mammi I’ll be in shortly. I need to help Beth load up a few carvings.”

Her plan was destined to fail. She knew that. But if it worked for a week or two, that might be enough time for Jonah and his wisdom about loss and dealing with it to reach inside Beth and make a difference. That was what Lizzy wanted most of all—and she was willing to suffer Beth’s anger over it.

And if Beth were ever free from all that held her heart captive, she might actually see the man who was standing here.

T
he clip-clop of a horse and buggy on the road filtered through the open window of Beth’s office. She’d moved the wringer washer outside that morning so she could both wash and hang the laundry before being stuck in this tiny room all day. Now she sat at her desk, shuffling endless amounts of paperwork. Buying-and-selling trips were much more fun than this, but since so many Amish could no longer make a living farming, many depended on her to sell their handcrafted products. She loved being a source of help for her people, but it required her to be behind this desk a lot.

Sitting back, she studied the details of the carving. For the tenth time that hour, she ran her fingers over the tracery. How could anyone make such intricate cuts into a block of wood?

When someone knocked on the door, she came to herself and returned her focus to her work.
“Kumm rei.”

Her aunt opened the door, holding up a stack of letters.

“Denki.” Beth pointed to a tray on her desk.

Lizzy placed them in the holder. “Jonah Kinsinger wrote a letter.” She took the top envelope off the stack and held it out.

“For me?” Beth stared at the envelope. The bishop hadn’t budged on giving them permission. “He’s probably wondering what Omar has decided. I don’t know what to say to him. I can’t do anything to help him sell his work. I did my best to convince Omar. You even gave it some effort.”

“I didn’t just give it
some
effort.” Lizzy pointed the letter at her, wagging it as if it were her index finger. “I went to see Jonah as you asked. I brought some of his work back. And then I showed the pieces to Omar and talked to him about it, just the same as you did.”

“I tried to convince him. You straddled the fence.”

“He’s our head, the top church leader over several districts. Is it our place to try to change his mind and heart? Shouldn’t that be left in God’s hands? We presented our request, and he doesn’t feel he can allow such a thing, at least not yet.”

“Omar closed the door, so that’s the end of it? It’s over?”

“He’s a good man, Beth. Always has been. I believe if we’re all praying, God will side with whoever’s right, and Omar is the kind of person who will hear Him. Now rest in that, and answer Jonah.”

“I don’t have anything but bad news to share with Jonah.”

“That’s ridiculous. At what point did you become so negative? You have friendship to offer along with your love of his work. I’d say that’s not
all
bad news.” Lizzy held the envelope out to her again.

Looking at her aunt’s face, she couldn’t help but smile. “Denki.”

“Gern Gschehne.”

Laughing at the sassy way Lizzy chose to tell her she was welcome, Beth watched as she closed the door.

Maybe her aunt was right. She did have friendship to offer. And maybe the old man just needed a friend.

She slid her finger under the seal and realized it was already open. Either it had never been closed properly, or her aunt had already read it. Although either of them opened whatever store mail came in, it wasn’t like Lizzy to open Beth’s personal mail. But, after all, Jonah Kinsinger was a business relationship.

After pulling out the letter and unfolding it, Beth wondered if he’d written the letter himself or if he’d dictated it to someone, because the printing seemed awfully neat for an elderly man. Then again, each word seemed as perfectly chiseled as his woodwork.

B
ETH
,

I
T’S BEEN ENCOURAGING TO KNOW THAT MY
CARVING CAUGHT YOUR EYE AND THAT YOU HOPE TO SELL IT IN YOUR SHOP
. I
T’S BEEN QUITE A WHILE SINCE ANYONE
SHOWED THIS KIND OF INTEREST
.