Christmas in Apple Ridge (37 page)

He glanced up, and a timid smile touched his lips.

“Mamm, I need to see Gideon.”

“Sure, honey. You go on.”

Mattie walked toward him. After excusing himself to Aden, Gideon met her halfway.

“I understand now.”

Surprise crossed his face. “You do?”

“Ya. But I still have to go back to Ohio next week.”

The look in his eyes intensified. “That’s what I’ve wanted all along, Mattie Lane.”

Sadness held on so tight she felt numb. “Is that really all, for me to know the truth and return to Sol?”

His face showed no emotion that she recognized. “Pretty much, ya.”

Raising her eyebrows, she waited.

“It’s silly, but I thought it’d be nice if we had one day together without anger or grief, just one day to be who we used to be.”

“That would’ve been nice.” But one day alone with Gideon without anger or grief would most certainly undo her. She slid her hand into his. “You stay well. You hear me?”

He squeezed her fingers tenderly. “Anything for you, Mattie Lane.”

S
omething woke Gideon, and he rolled over, opening his eyes. The room was dark, and he wondered what time it was. Peace stirred, moving about in him like a construction team laying the foundation for a new home. Mattie knew everything and had forgiven him. That alone would sustain him after she left.

Something thudded against his window. He rose, slipped into his pants, and went to look out. Remnants of a snowball slid down the glass. He opened the window, and below, bathed in silvery moonlight and standing in several inches of new snow, Mattie gazed up at him. A horse stood behind her with Beth and Jonah’s sleigh attached to it.

“Mattie Lane, what are you doing?”

She lobbed a snowball straight up into the air and backed away when it almost landed on her. It dropped inches in front of Jessie Bell, and the horse neighed, shaking her head. Mattie
bit her bottom lip, smiling up at him like it was Christmas. “One day, Gideon Beiler. You asked for it, and you’ve got it. We have from now until I leave at eleven tonight. That’s about nineteen hours to wreak some havoc as we travel down Mattie’s lane.”

He could hardly believe his ears. Or his eyes.

She pulled a rolled-up piece of paper out of her pocket. “I spent most the night working on this list.” She held the top of it, and it unrolled from her head to the ground. “Number one: Go for a sleigh ride.” She jingled the bells dangling on the horse’s back. “Number two: Go tobogganing.” She pointed at a long sled inside the sleigh. “Number three: Return here, and
you
fix us breakfast. Number four: Hire a driver and go to Harrisburg to watch the Susquehanna.” She held up a pair of binoculars. “And I do mean
watch
. Not fall into it. Number five: Have lunch at the Fire House Restaurant before taking a tour of the historic district and visiting the State Museum of Pennsylvania. Number six: Go ice-skating on Miller’s pond.” She lowered the list. “Hey, do you still have my ice skates?”

“I’m wearing them right now.”

She rolled her eyes. “Now, we’re going to skate on Miller’s pond if it’s solid enough. If it’s not, only you will go skating while I time how long it takes before the ice cracks and you have a cold swim.”

“Thanks, Mattie.”

She giggled and propped one hand on her waist and motioned impatiently with the other. “Well, hurry up. Nineteen hours isn’t much time.”

He dressed, and while hurrying down the steps, he put on his coat, scarf, and hat.

He opened the door, and she flung a snowball at him. He bent to scoop up a handful of snow, and when he stood, she was hiding behind the horse.

“No fair, Mattie Lane.”

“All is fair inside the magical, mystical land known as Mattie Lane. How do you not know that by now?”

Mattie squeezed the pastry bag, draping thin loops of gold icing onto the Christmas cake. Her brother’s home smelled of the holiday feast they’d have for dinner this evening, featuring turkey and stuffing, black-eyed peas, sweet potato pie, and green beans.

Her niece had her own pastry tube. Esther hummed and chatted while squirting mounds of icing onto a batch of cookies. The little girl had not moved from her kneeling position on a kitchen chair for nearly an hour. “Mattie Cakes, do you make your own birthday cake every year?”

Mattie tried to focus her mind, which was still suspended in a fog somewhere between Berlin, Ohio, and Apple Ridge, Pennsylvania. She’d hoped that going through her usual Christmas Eve traditions would lift the grief and confusion, perhaps scrub away some of the desire for Gideon, but that hadn’t happened yet. “Ya, I do, sweetie.”

James marched into the house, carrying a load of wood, and stomped snow off his boots. “Well, there are two of my favorite girls.” He dumped the logs into the bin next to the open hearth. “Where are your big brothers and sisters, Esther?”

She put her index finger on her lips. “They’re in their rooms with the doors locked, wrapping presents.”

Mattie’s eyes met her brother’s, and they chuckled. Why did Esther act like the location of her older siblings was a secret?

Dorothy walked into the kitchen, carrying her youngest one on her hip.

James went to his wife, and they spoke quietly for a moment before sharing a long, lingering kiss. Esther glanced up, smiled at her parents’ show of affection, then returned her attention to her cookie.

James walked to the edge of the table, amusement on his face. He lifted one of Esther’s gooey cookies. “This much icing gives new meaning to the name
sugar cookies
.”

Esther glowed. “You like it, Daed?”

“These will be my all-time favorites.” He set it down. “But not until after we eat our dinner.”

Dorothy placed an empty mug in the sink. “Esther, have you made your bed?”

“I’m helping Mattie Cakes.”

Dorothy looked to Mattie with a raised brow.

Ever since she’d returned from Pennsylvania, the only way Mattie had found any Christmas cheer was through her niece’s innocent excitement. “It’s true. She’s telling me right where all the dots and curlicues need to go.”

“And she helped me put my very own cake in the oven.” Esther bobbed her little head up and down. “I get to decorate it after it’s cool.”

Dorothy flashed Mattie a look that was somewhere between gratitude and
you’ve got to be kidding me
.

James scooped his daughter off the chair. “We’re going to have to rename you Mattie Cakes Two.” He tapped her nose with his forefinger, making Esther giggle with delight.

Dorothy pulled a clean burp cloth out of a drawer. “But all bakers have to make their own beds and straighten their rooms, even on Christmas Eve.”

Esther’s eyes grew wide. “Is that true, Mattie Cakes?”

Mattie leaned in and kissed the top of her niece’s head. “If your Mamm said so, it must be.”

Esther hopped down from her father’s arms and ran upstairs.

Mattie set the pastry bag with gold icing aside and picked up the one with red icing. “You know, she was in my attic room at the shop several times, and my bed was rarely made up.”

Humor danced in Dorothy’s eyes. “You don’t want to know my response to that, do you?”

James plopped into a chair at the kitchen table. “Go ahead. She can take it.”

Dorothy gave a sheepish grin. “I know this isn’t true. It’s just the first thing I thought when you said you didn’t always make your bed.”

“Well, out with it.”

“I’d tell Esther, ‘And you see what happened to her shop, don’t you?’ ”

James laughed, then stopped short, mocking a guilty look for being amused.

Mattie couldn’t help but chuckle. “You have a morbid sense of humor, Dorothy Eash.”

“I do, don’t I?” She sat beside her husband and put her youngest in the nursing position under a fold of her cape bodice. “Will Sol be here in time for our noon meal?”

Mattie glanced at the clock. Eleven fifteen, and she already thought the day would never end. “Today is the one day of the
year I
can
expect him to come see me. He went hunting this morning, of course, so he might be a little late. But I bet he’s here before we’re finished eating so we can go early to the Christmas singing tonight.”

The mirth faded from James’s face. He pressed his index finger onto a crumb on the table. “You don’t seem at all disappointed that he went hunting on your birthday or that he goes on more hunts than Daniel Boone.”

Mattie squirted red frosting on the cake. “He does his thing, and I do mine. What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing,” James said. He glanced at his wife. “Dorothy and I just want to be sure you’re thinking clearly. Every brother and sister-in-law you have has been praying for you every day for years … especially since you and Gideon broke up.”

Mattie pushed the cake away, her smidgen of a lighthearted mood gone. “I appreciate your prayers, but I don’t need your advice or your meddling.”

“Okay.” James angled his head, catching her eye. “Just answer one question, and I’ll never bring up this topic again.”

She scowled at him. “Then by all means, ask it.”

“What draws you to Sol?”

Frustration burned like hot coals in Mattie. “He’s a good man who will never break my heart.”

“I agree.” Dorothy folded the burp cloth with one hand
while holding her baby. “It’s impossible for him to break what he can’t touch.”

Dorothy’s words left Mattie weak. She sank into the chair beside her sister-in-law, grief surrounding her as if she were buried in a snowbank. She could have a comfortable life with Sol. It would be void of passion and gusto, but it would be a long, smooth road.

The doorbell rang. Mattie looked through the kitchen window and saw a white truck. “Does FedEx deliver on Christmas Eve?”

James glanced outside. “I guess so.”

Mattie hurried out of the room, glad to get away from the prying questions. She opened the door and found a small package on the doorstep. “Merry Christmas,” she called to the man in the navy and purple uniform.

He waved while hurrying back to his truck. “Merry Christmas.”

She picked up the box. The package was addressed to her. Eager for something to lift her spirits, she took it into the kitchen.

“Who’s it from?” Dorothy asked.

“It doesn’t say.” Mattie got a knife from a drawer and slid it across the packing tape. Inside a layer of plastic bubble wrap, she saw a book. She pulled it out of the layers of protection.

A hand-drawn image of herself with a pastry bag in hand, decorating a four-tier wedding cake, graced the cover. Chills skittered up her spine. In the bottom left corner of the picture, the name Aden appeared in tiny letters.

She dropped into a chair and opened the book. The inside front flap had
Mattie Cakes Portfolio
scrawled on it. She gingerly turned the pages. Aden had meticulously drawn numerous cakes with familiar designs, using colored pencils to give each area the correct shade. At the bottom of every page, he’d written the name of the cake design and where the idea came from, as well as the year she first made it.

Her heart filled with emotions too big for her chest, like the Grinch’s had in that kids’ movie she’d seen years ago while baby-sitting. “Look at this.”

James and Dorothy moved behind her, looking over her shoulder.

“How could Aden know all this? When I lived with Mamm and Daed, he came over a few times and made sketches of various stages of my work. But he never saw all these.”

“Maybe he remembers them from your old scrapbook,” Dorothy suggested.

She turned another page. “This is unbelievable. That man has more talent than I realized.” She flipped to the next page, and her heart nearly stopped. “I made that cake in September.
There’s no way Aden could have seen it.” She looked up at James and Dorothy. “You’re the only ones who could’ve told him about it.”

“Wasn’t me,” James said. “I don’t remember ever seeing that one.”

Dorothy brought her infant out from the flap of her cape. “I need to put this little guy down for his nap.”

“Dorothy, wait.” Mattie stood. “You know something.”

She looked to her husband as if asking to be rescued, but James just shrugged. Her face contorted into an apology. “That must be Gideon’s doing.”