A Log Cabin Christmas (46 page)

“Ah.” He rubbed his chin. “I know these parts good. Describe your place, und I vill see if I can figure out where it is.”

“There’s a small waterfall on the place with a rustic bridge where you can stand and watch the water running over the rocks, and trees growing down through the middle of it. The house is small but long. The whole front of it has a covered porch with white poles supporting it. The windows are painted white, and so is the front door. Unlike your cabin, the house was built using hog trough joints.”

“How did you know that?” Amadeus interrupted her.

“Pa told me what they were.” She smiled sheepishly.

“Ah. I see. Und what else?” he asked even though he knew exactly what house it was now—the very one he had purchased for his cousins, who were to arrive in America come springtime. But just in case there was the slightest chance he was wrong, he would keep that information to himself and not upset Awnya needlessly. Once he got all the facts straight, only then would he tell her.

“Much better.” His mother shuffled her way to her rocking chair near the fireplace.

“Papa. Can we come out now?” Isabella’s voice floated to him.

“Nein. Not yet, liebchen. We have to hide the clues. I tell you when we are ready.”

“Okay.”

They hurried to place the clues around the cabin.

“Okay. You can come now.”

All three barreled into the kitchen, bringing a smile to Amadeus’s face. Seeing their joy brought him joy. Excitement filled the atmosphere as their eyes traveled around the room.

“Look at me. I vill tell you where to start. You must work together.” He handed Isabella the first clue because she was the only one who could read well.

“Green is my color; I represent life. You’ll find me close to where Oma keeps her bread knife.” All three heads turned toward the knife hanging near the breadboard counter. “Look for something green.” Isabella took charge. They ran over and searched the area.

“There it is!” Ethan hollered. Halfway down on the left side of the breadboard counter was the stiff Christmas tree Awnya had made by dipping the green yarn in flour paste. Attached to it was the next clue. Their faces beamed, bringing another smile to his face.

Isabella removed the clue and read, “Silent night, holy night, all is calm, all is bright. You need me to give off light.”

“The windows.” Jakob rushed to the windows closest to the front door and checked them while the other two scurried to check the others.

“I don’t see anything here,” Jakob said, walking over to Ethan. “Did you?”

“No.”

“You, Izzy?”

“No.” She sighed. “Wait. I got it. Lanterns are bright, and we need them.”

They inspected the two sitting on the table and the one near the fireplace. Finding no clue, they frowned.

“Let’s see.” Isabella tipped her head. “What else gives off light?” Her brows darted upward. “Candles.”

Ethan ran to Amadeus’s bedroom. “I found it.” He rushed out to Isabella and Jakob.

“I’m up in the sky only at night, but can sometimes be seen in the daylight.”

“Huh?” Isabella looked at Amadeus.

“Just think, liebchen.” He scanned the ceiling, letting his eyes linger on the star above him.

The children followed his movement. “There it is!” Isabella pointed to the star hanging in the center of the loft. The boys climbed the ladder and removed it then scurried down and gave it to their sister.

“My insides appear silver, and I was first made in Germany in the shape of a fruit or a nut. Only you cannot eat me, or your mouth will I cut.”

They wrinkled their noses then put their heads together, discussing what it could be. They came out of their huddle. “Papa, we don’t have any idea what this is.”

“Okay. Go to the steamer trunk und look inside. Find a small wooden box hidden at the bottom, but do not shake or drop it.”

They rushed to the trunk and knelt down. When they found the wooden box, they opened it and removed three pieces of cloth.

“Oh, Papa. These are beautiful.” Isabella glanced at him then back at the ornaments.

“What are they?” Awnya asked.

“Bring them here, liebchen.”

“Oh, those are beautiful. I’ve never seen anything like them before.” Awnya ran her fingers over the blown-glass ornaments shaped like nuts and fruits.

“They come from Germany. My grossmutter sent them to my children for Christmas.” He held one up for each of them to inspect. “See how the inside looks silver.”

Each one took a turn admiring them before putting them back into the trunk. The children continued their treasure hunt until only one clue remained.

“You can’t have one without the other to be the greatest gift of all. We are the true meaning of Christmas.” Isabella frowned. “This one doesn’t rhyme, Papa.”

“I know, daughter.” He gathered all three children to himself. “Meine kinder, when you remember what the greatest gift of all is und the true meaning of Christmas, you vill find your last clue und the real treasure.”

Without hesitating, they went to the manger scene. Lying in the cradle with baby Jesus was a heart and the wooden cross Amadeus had made. No note accompanied it.

His children reverently removed baby Jesus, then the cross, and then the heart and brought them to him.

Awnya sniffed beside him.

He blinked to keep his own tears. Pride and love swelled his chest. His children understood the true meaning of Christmas—that Christ’s birth, death, and resurrection was the greatest love gift ever given.

Moments of reverential silence passed before Amadeus retrieved his children’s treasure gifts. “This is why we give gifts at Christmas, to remember the greatest gift of all. Jesus.” He handed the boys each a small bag of the alabaster marbles he had played with as a boy and Isabella his wife’s American Bible.

Isabella whirled and fled the room.

Amadeus followed her into her bedroom. “Liebchen,
was
ist los?”

His daughter, still so small but growing into her own wisdom, stood huddled over the gift. “It’s mama’s, right?”

“Ja, und I want you to have it.”

She hugged the Bible to her chest. Tears spilled from her eyes. “Thank you, Papa. I’ll treasure it always.”

“I know you vill, liebchen.” He gathered his daughter into his arms, and tears slid down his cheeks as she wept.

The next evening, still touched by the children’s understanding of Christmas, Awnya wanted to do something special for them. The joy on their faces when they’d found the clues had brought both joy and sadness to her—joy at being a part of their lives during those brief moments, and sadness from knowing when the weather cleared, she would have to go home to an empty house. If only …

No. She would not allow her mind to drift that direction. She wasn’t their mother and never would be.

“You ready?”

“Yes.”

Before Amadeus had a chance, Awnya opened the door and stepped outside. Cold stung her cheeks and bit into her spine. She shook a chill.

“Sure you want to do this, leibling?” Amadeus asked from behind her.

“Yes. I’m sure.” She glanced at the different shades of yellow and pink surrounding the sun, which was minutes away from disappearing behind the mountain.

“Beautiful,” she whispered.

“She sure is.”

She? Awnya looked up at him. He wasn’t looking at the sunset, but at her.

Nothing more was said. They made their way to Amadeus’s workshop.

Amadeus unlocked the door and stepped inside. He lit two lanterns and hung them on their hooks, then moved aside for her to enter.

Inside the cramped room, waist-high benches lined two walls. Each had a pinewood stool in front of it. Tools of various kinds hung on pegs above each bench. In one corner of the bench, a cloth covered something. On the floor between the two benches sat a large wooden box.

Amadeus raised the lid, pulled out a bag, and dumped the contents onto the bench.

“Oh, how lovely.” She picked up one of the wooden carved farm animals and turned it over, admiring the detail on the horse. “You made these?”

“Ja.”

She counted. “Two horses, four cows, six sheep, two dogs, and two cats.”

“I have the barn und the fences yet to make for the boys.”

“And Isabella?” She let the question hang between them.

He reached over and raised the cloth.

Awnya gasped, and he smiled. “What a beautiful cradle.” She tilted her head and frowned. “I don’t remember seeing any dolls. Does she have one?”

“Ja.” His smile dropped. “My wife made it, but Isabella carried it all the time, und now it barely holds together. She put it in her trunk und vill not play with it, afraid it vill fall apart completely.”

“Can it be mended?”

“Perhaps. But mama’s hands do not work like they once did. She struggles to get done the mending.”

“She should have said something. I could do the mending for her.”

“Nein. It keeps her mind busy. She enjoys it.”

Awnya played with her lip as a plan formulated in her mind. “Do you think Isabella would mind if I repaired her doll?”

His face brightened. “You think you could?”

“I would love to look at it and see.”

“Tomorrow, I sneak it here, ja?”

“Ja,” Awnya said without thinking.

They laughed.

Amadeus stepped closer and clutched her shoulders gently. His eyes seized hers. “That is very kind of you, leibling.
Vielen dank
.”

“Feeling donk?” She tilted her head.

“Ja. It means, thank you very much.”

“Oh.” The softness in his eyes drew her into their depths, holding her captive. “You’re welcome,” she whispered.

His head lowered, and Awnya’s stomach fluttered with the wings of a thousand hummingbirds.

Cool lips captured hers, warming her insides, making it difficult to stand. His arms, strong and comforting, pressed about her, supporting her as his lips tenderly caressed her mouth. She sighed contentedly. She could get used to this.

T
hree days before Christmas and still unable to travel down the mountain to deliver his dairy products, Amadeus noticed his mother’s puckered forehead. Her hands played with the rocking chair arm, worry scrawled on her face. The children’s constant bickering over who got what marble was obviously getting on her nerves. She would never complain or say anything because she loved them dearly, so he needed to do something to ease her discomfort.

“Meine kinder, how would you like to get our Christmas tree today instead of waiting until Christmas Eve?”

The lines on Mama’s forehead softened. The children jumped up.

“Wait! Your toys pick up first, und then we vill go.”

Toys disappeared off the floor in record time. Hats, coats, gloves were ripped from lower hooks near the front door. He turned his attention away from them and onto Awnya. Her face held the same anticipation as his children. “Would you like to come, Awnya?”

“No,” Isabella said, stopping with only one arm in her coat. “I don’t want her to come, Papa.”

He opened his mouth to rebuke his daughter, but Awnya’s voice stopped him. “I would love to, but I don’t want to interfere, so I’ll stay here and keep Louissa company.”

“Nonsense. We want you to come. Right, kinder?” Amadeus sent his daughter a warning glance.

Isabella put on a pout but said no more.

“Yeah. We want you to come with us.” Jakob and Ethan beamed their replies.

Jakob ran over to Awnya. “Please. Come with us.” He tugged her hand until she stood.

“If you’re sure …” Though her face showed obvious reluctance, she allowed Jakob to pull her along. She slipped into her outside garments.

Amadeus silently thanked God that Awnya could not see the look of disdain his daughter shot her way. He considered saying something about it but felt it best not to. He still did not know why Isabella disliked the woman so. Every time he had asked, pain filled his daughter’s eyes, and she told him she did not know why. Because his feelings for Awnya were growing stronger every day, he could only hope that in time Isabella would come to love her.

Awnya followed the children outside. Large fluffy snowflakes floated gently from the heavens. She opened her mouth to catch them on her tongue. They still tasted like candy to her.

“What you doing?” Ethan asked.

“Catching snowflakes.”

“Why?”

Awnya glanced down at him. “Haven’t you ever caught snowflakes on your tongue before?”

“Um, uh-uh.” He shook his head.

“Try it.”

Ethan tipped his head back and opened his mouth. He yanked his head one way, then another, then leaped into the air. Within seconds, Jakob, Isabella, and even Amadeus joined him.

Awnya laughed at the scene before her. Not at the children, but at the gentle giant with his tongue stuck out, lapping up snowflakes.

The children ran ahead of them, giggling and chasing snowflakes with their mouths wide open, disappearing out of their sight. Laughter poured from somewhere deep in Awnya. She hadn’t done much laughing since her pa’s death. It felt good, so she let it roll out of her even more.

“You think that is funny, ja?”

“Ja,” she said through a titter.

Amadeus chuckled, and quick as a bolt of lightning he knotted a snowball and tossed it at her. It splattered on her bearskin coat just above her knee.

Under his hat she could see his eyebrows dancing up and down in challenge to her.

“Why you …” Awnya grabbed a snowball and hit him in the arm. Again and again they hit each other with snowballs.

Awnya bent down to make another just as Amadeus’s large hand encircled her waist and swung her body toward a deep snowbank. “Oh-h-h no you don’t.” She yanked his arm, pulling him into the drift with her. She grabbed a handful of snow and smeared his face with it, giggling.

He scooped a handful of white powder and aimed it toward her face. “No, no.” She wiggled and giggled until her cheeks hurt from smiling, and her heart pumped from the exertion.

“What vill you give me if I don’t?” His smile dimpled, one of his eyebrows rose, and his gaze slid to her lips then jumped to her eyes. “A kiss, ja?”

She peered around, making sure the children were still out of sight.

“Ja? A kiss?” she mimicked him. She raised her lips to his, and right before their lips touched, she swerved and kissed his cheek, leaped up, and ran into the woods, where his children were having their own snowball fight.

He caught up with her. His warm breath sent shivers skittering up and down her spine. “I vill collect later, meine weihnachtsgeschenk.”

She sure hoped so.

Amadeus fought the urge to steal a real kiss from Awnya. With his children nearby, that would not be good. But later perhaps. No. Definitely later. He grinned inwardly.

Together they traipsed through the snow, looking over several trees until the children found the one they wanted.

“Can you hurry, Papa? We’re cold.” Isabella cupped her hands and blew into them.

“I am almost done, liebchen.” Within minutes he had the tree felled. Amadeus dragged the tree behind him as they weaved their way back through aspens and pines.

Inside the cabin, Amadeus set the tree while Awnya helped his mother fix hot toddies. He smiled when his mother explained that for medicinal purposes only—like a fever—she would add a hint of whiskey to the hot water, lemon juice, and honey tea mixture.

They sat in front of the fireplace and warmed their bodies, sipping their drinks. When they finished, Amadeus leaned forward in his rocker. “You ready to decorate the tree?” He eyed everyone, leaving no one out.

The boys jumped up and nodded until he thought their necks would break, but Isabella remained seated, staring into the fire.

“You coming?” he asked Isabella.

“No.” She crossed her arms and shot daggers Awnya’s way. She slung herself around, placing her back to them.

“As you wish, daughter.”

Awnya’s questioning eyes darted between him and Isabella. He laid his hands on her shoulders, turned her toward the kitchen, and gave her a light push.

She joined his mama at the table, but his boys clung to each side of him.

He opened the small box of ornaments he had retrieved earlier. “Who wishes to go first?”

Awnya was so glad he’d encouraged her to join them. She couldn’t wait to be a part of the tree decorating. She didn’t know what he meant by who wishes to go first, but she’d wait her turn.

Jakob and Ethan pulled out an ornament.

“Ethan, you go first,” Jakob offered.

“Thanks.” Ethan held up one of the clothespin ornaments she’d helped them make. It had a white dress and long hair made from yarn. “This reminds me of Awnya. I’m grateful God sent her here.” He spoke softly.

Awnya’s heart hitched. He looked shyly at her, and she smiled her approval.

She took a peek Amadeus’s way. His eyes twinkled like the night stars, and his lips curled upward, warming her heart and overflowing it with love for this family.

“Und you, Jakob?”

“What I have to be grateful for this Christmas is …” He held up a heart ornament. “That you always taught us, Papa, that God is love, and I love Awnya and want her to be my mama.”

Heat rose into her cheeks. She slid her gaze toward Amadeus. He winked, and her heart responded with a wink of its own.

Amadeus pulled out two ornaments, a handmade angel and a small wrapped box. “This Christmas I, too, am thankful that God sent us an angel. She is meine weihnachtsgeschenk.”

“Your Christmas gift!” Jakob said. “Can she be ours, too?”

“Can she, huh, Papa?” Ethan jumped in. The hopeful look in the boys’ eyes shoved a longing through her heart.

“We vill see. Who is next? Awnya?”

She picked a snowman ornament, and while she hung it on a high branch, she said, “I’m grateful for the snowstorm that led me to all of you and for snowball fights.”

“Snowball fights?”

“Yes.” She and Amadeus shared a secret twinkling look.

“Your turn, Mama.”

Louissa said what she was grateful for and hung her ornament.

Jakob picked up a daddy ornament. “I’m glad I have a daddy who loves me.” After he hung the ornament, he threw his arms around Amadeus.

The scene made Awnya lonesome for her ma and pa. Seeing the ornaments finished, she excused herself and headed to the fireplace. Sometimes the sorrow was so very heavy in her heart.

Isabella stood, glared at her, and then darted to the table.

Awnya’s gaze traveled over the mantel lined with evergreen branches and red bows up to the cutout North Star hanging below the rifle—the one that looked exactly like her pa’s. She glanced behind her to make sure no one was watching. Awnya stepped as close to the fire as possible and studied the gun. Her heart sank when her gaze landed on the initials
SPO
—Seamus Patrick O’Crean.
Dear God, no
.

“You look pale. What is wrong, Awnya?”

Awnya jumped at Amadeus’s nearness. She looked into his concerned blue eyes. What to do? What to do? Her heart yanked her backward and forward—forward toward the man she’d come to love and backward as far away as possible from the man who could possibly have taken her pa’s life.