Grace: A Christmas Sisters of the Heart Novel (2 page)

Melody still got spooked talking with strange men. But as the moment passed between them, and he kept rudely staring at her, awaiting a response, she shook her head. “No.” Hurt flashed into his eyes. “I mean,
Dank
—Thank you. But no, I’m fine.”

After treating her to another long look of doubt at the
quilt bag on her lap and the worn suitcase under her feet, he shrugged and walked away.

“Don’t you mind the driver, miss,” said an elderly lady sitting across the aisle from her on the bus. “I’ve ridden with Graham before and he’s a worrier. Always has been. And, well, pardon my sayin’ so, but you do look like you’re about to deliver at any moment.”

Shamed, Melody turned to the window and hugged her quilt bag more tightly.

It had been a long journey to Cincinnati, Ohio, from Sonora, Kentucky. It had taken almost as long for her to find the correct bus to take her to Adams County. Now she was in a hired van to the Brenneman Bed and Breakfast to spend the next week, if she was lucky.

Her employer, Mrs. Sheridan had given her some money and a gift certificate when Melody had come to work in the coffee shop looking even worse than usual. “I really think you need to take some time off, dear.”

“I’m fine,” she’d murmured, mainly because she had no choice. This was her job.

As if Mrs. Sheridan had read her mind, she murmured, “No, dear, I don’t think you are. Hold on a moment, I’ll be right back.”

Moments later, she handed Melody an envelope with a hundred dollar bill and a gift certificate inside. Melody had held it like it was on fire. “What is this?”

“It’s an early Christmas gift. It’s a certificate to the loveliest little inn north of Cincinnati. In Ohio.”

“What would I do there?”

“Relax for a bit.” Mrs. Sheridan’s eyes softened as she recalled the place. “It’s a real beauty of a place, I’ll tell you that. The Brenneman Bed and Breakfast has a wide wooden porch in the front. It runs the whole front of the building. The house just shines, it does. It’s all whitewashed, and has shiny black shutters. In the spring, glorious flowers decorate every available inch of land around the house.”

In spite of herself, Melody was mesmerized. “And in the winter?”

Her boss sighed. “In the winter, they decorate a bit with greenery. Nature provides holly bushes in the woods. Mrs. Brenneman clips some sprigs and places them in glass bowls. A few of the windows have candles and garlands. And they polish everything with the most heavenly scented orange oil. At night, when the snow is glistening outside and the rooms smell of hot spiced cider, wood from the fire, and orange oil … why I have to say there’s nothing else in the world like it. You should go, dear.”

For a moment, Melody, too, had been taken away. But even the thought of traveling by herself was disconcerting. As was the cost. “Thank you for the idea, but I’m afraid I can’t accept such a gift. It’s too much.”

“Oh, it’s not so much, really.” All smiles, she explained, “Mr. Sheridan and I won this in a charity auction about six months ago. It’s good for a week’s stay.”

In spite of her will not to, Melody found herself gripping the envelope. It took everything she had to weakly refuse one more time. “I couldn’t.”

“Yes, you could, Melody … if you dare. I think you need
some time off.” Her voice lowered. “I know that things haven’t been too good for you here. Sometimes, if you can’t find a comforting place in your own hometown, it’s time to venture somewhere else. Go there, Melody. Go to the Brennemans’ and relax and learn to smile again. It will do you and the baby a world of good.”

A world of good.

The kind words had rung in her ears the rest of the day. They were so different than everything else she was used to hearing. Most folks barely looked at her.

None directly spoke of her circumstances.

Yet, did she really imagine that people would speak of her, to her, frankly?

Plain and simply, she’d been raped by an
Englischer,
held apart by her family, and now was looking forward to forever being a symbol of foolish behavior in the eyes of everyone in her community. As in,
“Don’t go walking alone like Melody did. Look what happened to her.”

As in, “Look what happened to Melody. Now she’s going to have to carry that burden for the rest of her life.”

As in, “Melody, you’ve shamed us.”

Consequently, she’d retreated into herself. If others wouldn’t have a care for her feelings, then she would.

That night, Melody had clumsily knelt by her bed and prayed. “What should I do?” she’d whispered.

Tightly, she’d closed her eyes. With bated breath, she’d strained to hear words of guidance. And then, like the gift that it was … she heard the Lord’s voice.

Just as clearly as if he’d been standing at her shoulder.
Go, Melody. Go and learn to smile again.

“Miss? You going to get up anytime soon?” the driver asked. “We’re here.”

She stood up with a start. Out of the window to her right was the Brenneman Bed and Breakfast, looking just as lovely as Mrs. Sheridan described.

“Oh! I’m … I’m sorry. I’ll get my things and hurry out.”

To her surprise, a woman sitting in front of her picked up the suitcase and carried it out of the van. The driver helped her down the step and took her payment easily, not even counting it before slipping it into his black wool coat.

“Merry Christmas,” he murmured before closing his door and pulling out of the driveway.

Leaving her alone. Staring at the wide front steps. At the garland that was roped around the porch railing. Suddenly, everything seemed to be too much. The trip, the traveling, the stress. The cold. A wave of dizziness fell over her.

The front door opened. A pretty woman just about her age stepped out and stared. “May I help you?”

The world was tilting. Threatening to go black. “I’m Melody Gingerich.”

Blue eyes narrowed. “And?”

“I … I came to stay for Christmas,” she murmured. In a haze, she did her best to concentrate, but the woman’s reaction was truly puzzling.

“You came to do what?” the girl asked, her voice sounding high pitched. Almost angry.

“I have a certificate.”

“For what?”

As the girl’s eyes continued to stare her down, Melody fumbled for a better explanation. But truly, all ideas fled her mind. She didn’t know what to say. How to explain about everything she’d been through. Everything she’d done.

Then it didn’t matter. Because her knees gave away, her world spun, and her suitcase fell to the ground with a thud.

Seconds later, she felt the cold icy snow cradle her cheek … as her world went black.

December 20, 4:00
P.M.

The girl had fallen.

Heedless of the open door behind her, Katie ran out to the patch where the girl lay crumbled. A light amount of snow coated the ground, and moisture filtered through the heavy wool of her dress as she sank to her knees. “Miss?” she whispered. “Miss? Can you hear me?”

Unfortunately, no fluttering of eyelashes or gasp of surprise greeted her. Instead, the girl remained motionless, her gray dress and black apron in disarray around her ankles. Katie lifted the girl’s hand and felt for a pulse along her wrist. She sighed in relief as a steady rhythm of blood coursed through the veins. “Oh, thank goodness,” she breathed. For a moment, there, Katie had feared the worst.

Without regard for the damp ground, Katie sat down and resituated the girl’s head. With an anxious heart, she slipped off her black traveling bonnet and carefully set her
kapp
to rights.

But still she lay there, quiet.

“What to do?” Katie murmured. Spying the white dishcloth that had fallen from her hand, Katie picked it up and folded it several times. Finally, she rested the girl’s head on it. “At least your
kapp
might stay dry this way.”

And still, the girl was unresponsive. “What could be wrong?” Katie murmured. Puzzled, she pressed her fingers to the girl’s forehead. Perhaps she was feverish? No. Her skin was cool to the touch.

Though her brain told her the newcomer had simply passed out, Katie’s heart began to pound. She’d never witnessed anyone being so unresponsive for so long.

And so she tried for a reaction yet again. “Miss? Can you hear me? Miss? Are you all right?”

Close up, she noticed that the girl’s hair was a striking auburn, the color of a fox’s coat in winter. The strands that had fallen out of the
kapp
and bonnet looked rich and lush against the her fair skin. By force of habit, she carefully smoothed back the hair, like she did with her stepdaughters.

That touch led to more methodical ones. Perhaps the girl had hit her head and was bleeding? As Katie examined the girl’s scalp, looking for evidence of a serious injury, her own pulse raced. What were they going to do if this girl did indeed need emergency medical assistance?

Oh, she hoped not. They were far enough away from
the main roads that any ambulance would take at least ten or fifteen minutes. And that might be too late.

Oh, she needed this girl to rouse!

And once more Katie thought, perhaps it was all her fault she’d even fallen! No one needed to tell her how rude she’d been. Frantic now, she raised her voice. “Miss? Miss? Please answer!”

“Katie?” Anna called out from the door. “What’s going on?”

In spite of the gravity of the situation, Katie took a moment to smile. No matter how “Amish” her friend Anna had become over the last two years, in many ways, she would always be English Anna. Some of her phrases and gestures were too imbedded to remove. “This girl—she fainted,” Katie replied. “At least I think that is what has happened. I can’t seem to rouse her.”

“Is she injured?” Anna stepped forward, taking care to watch her footing on the slippery walkway. “Henry said he was going to salt this well, but maybe it’s still icy? Perhaps she slipped and fell?”

“No, I don’t think so. I … I was staring at her. Actually, Anna, I was
glaring
at her and asked what business she had here.”

“And then?”

“And then she told me her name and then fainted.”

“She’s got to be cold. I’ll go get a blanket.”

“Hurry, Anna.”

Before she turned away, Anna reached out and wrapped an arm around Katie, giving her comfort like she always did. For a moment Katie leaned close. “It will be okay,” said Anna.

“I hope so.”

As Anna turned and scampered back inside, Katie anxiously looked at the girl—and counted her blessings. Oh, she was so grateful to have a friend like Anna.

Moments later, Anna tucked a thick blanket around the girl. “I told Mamm to find Henry. We need to bring her inside. Do you happen to know what her name is?”

“Melody. I’ve already forgotten her last name, though.” Shame burned her cheeks as she once again remembered how she’d greeted the girl. Now each rude gesture seemed to be magnified and terribly embarrassing. “Anna, I think maybe this is my fault. I wasn’t very welcoming.”

“No one faints from a poor welcome, Katie.”

“I hope not. But I could have been nicer. No, that’s not right. I
should
have been much nicer.”

“Don’t worry so. Regrets will only make you lose sleep, not solve the problem.”

“That sounds Amish.”

Anna smiled. “That’s because I am, of course.”

As they both looked at the girl—at Melody—with concern, Katie couldn’t help but dwell on the fact that Anna hadn’t attempted to soothe Katie’s worries about her dicourteousness. Was it because she’d noticed that Katie had been bad-mannered before?

“What are you two doing in the snow? Don’tcha think it’s a bit cold out here for that?” Henry called out, striding forward from the barn. Before they could correct him, his eyes widened. “Ah.”

“The girl is ill,” Anna said. “And she’s with child, too.”

“We better take her inside,” Henry said. “It’s far too cold
to rest on the ground. I’ll pick her up and carry her to the hearth room.”

But just as Henry was about to slide an arm under the girl’s back, Melody blinked, then peered at them.

At Henry. Immediately, her look of confusion slid into pure fright. “No!” she cried.

Henry immediately stepped backward. With both hands up as though he was at the mercy of a bank robber, he spoke slowly. “I’m sorry. I … I was just going to pick you up. Don’t be afraid …”

The girl shook her head.

Katie could see her tremble. “Melody? You’re at our inn. At the Brennemans’. A van dropped you off,” she said as quietly and as clearly as she could. “Do you remember coming here?”

Slowly, their guest’s eyes focused. She continued to stare at Henry. Finally, she nodded once.

Oh, thank goodness! “Do you remember seeing me?” she murmured.

When the girl still stared at them all confused, Anna took a turn. “It’s okay,” she soothed. “Don’t try to get up. You fell. Do you remember that?”

She shook her head, darted a look Katie’s way, then moaned again. “I’m sorry.” Looking beyond Katie to Henry, awkwardly standing a few feet away, the girl swallowed hard. “I’m sorry,” she said again. “I’m fine now.”

“Are you hurt?” Katie asked.

“Nee.”
She bit her lip, then shifted to a sitting position. “I guess all the traveling made me dizzy.”

“And no wonder, you’re going to have a baby!” Anna said as she scrambled to her feet. “That makes everything just a little harder, especially a long day of traveling. And here we are, keeping you out here on the sidewalk.” Reaching out, she clutched the newcomer’s arm. “Here, dear. Let us help you up.”

Katie reached to help, too, instinctively knowing that the girl would shy away from Henry’s touch. Grabbing the girl’s other arm, they pulled her to her feet. Standing up, it was painfully obvious that Melody was extremely pregnant. “When is your baby due?”

“Three weeks.”

“Three weeks? Then why in the world—”

Anna stilled the rest of Katie’s question with a warning look. “Outside is no place to have a conversation. Let’s get you inside, in front of a fire and warm you up. Would you care for some tea?”