The Sound of Sleigh Bells (15 page)

He’d finished his letter of explanation to her even before hers arrived, but it’d been impossible to place it in the mailbox. How did one hurl a heavy object, even a truthful one, at someone on purpose? In certain ways she radiated aloofness, but if he had any ability to read her, that wasn’t who she was. She used her indifference to keep people—suitors, he believed—at bay. She had the breadth, height, and depth within her to connect.

He should have mailed his letter already. A jumble of confused reasons kept him from doing so, but mostly he wasn’t ready for the letters to end.

He ran his hand over the sleigh. If it were in working order, it would have the power to bring joy—not to him, but to someone.

The sound of someone entering his wood shop drew his attention. His grandmother’s soft voice called to him. “Jonah.”

“Back here.”

She walked toward him, a beam of light shining from the hand-crank flashlight she held. “Hi.”

Since this shop was his haven from a family that stayed too close sometimes, she was one of the few who entered, and she didn’t come often. She said nothing, and the sounds of the wind chimes filled the empty space between them.

“Did you need something, Mammi?”

“I just wanted to ask you to supper.”

He didn’t believe that was all she wanted, but he wouldn’t call her on it. “Nah, I’m good. Thanks, though.”

She shifted, and after a long pause she finally spoke again. “You’ve been too quiet for more than a week. I just wondered if you left your voice in Pennsylvania and if we could go back and get it.”

He chuckled. “I’ve just been thinking. That’s all.”

“About the accident?”

“Not so much.”

“I can’t know how to pray if you stay hidden.”

His grandmother’s faith was different from anyone else’s he knew. She paced the floors praying Scripture over her family. Before sunrise she whispered specific verses over each member. He’d been little when he first heard her pray for each grandchild’s future spouse.

He reached into his pocket and felt the letter. Emotions swirled from deep within, like a whirlpool that led to unknown worlds. “I… I saw a young woman in August. Just for a minute but she stole every thought. I had no idea who she was. Then I saw her again in Pennsylvania.”

His grandmother waited, studying him like she always had when something weighed on him.

He shrugged. “She wears black.”

Her soft wrinkles bunched in the center of her forehead. “She’s in mourning.”

“Ya. But she’s been mourning far longer than is traditional. Since the man wasn’t her husband, it should have been over nearly a year ago.”

“That’s unusual.”

“Beth is unusual. And I can’t understand what it is about her that draws me. I’m tired of thinking about her, worrying about her, and yet if she slips my mind for a minute, I intentionally recall memories of her and her letters.” He released his hold on the letter inside his pocket. “It’s ridiculous. I don’t know her well enough for all this nonsense. And what I do know makes the relationship impossible.”

His grandmother climbed into the sleigh and sat. “I think it sounds like you found that treasured piece, the one you said you’d know when you saw it.”

He’d felt the pull of Beth from the moment he saw her, but he believed he’d felt it long before then. It rested inside his faith during year after year of waiting.

But so much more separated them than the secrets Beth had shared because Lizzy had tricked her. He was convinced she wanted nothing to do with another man. Why else would she keep wearing black? And even if they worked through that, she provided much of the economic stability of her community. She didn’t just live in Pennsylvania; her feet were cemented there.

Mammi angled her head. “Is she…who you want?”

“I’m not sure it matters what I want. You were right when you said I’m an idealist. I thought when I found the right person, we’d carve a life together, creating amazing scenes of things we’d both always wanted. I hate how I sound, so over the top with emotions, but I’ve waited so long, hoping I’d find her. And now everything is all wrong.”

Mammi sighed. “If you can’t carve the image you want, then carve what you can.” She stepped out of the sleigh. “We take what is and trust that God is making things we can’t yet see.” She touched the place on his hand where his two missing fingers had once been. “You use pieces of wood most people would burn in a fireplace, and you make them into something only you can.” She picked up his cane and passed it to him.

“Carve what can be carved.” That idea sat really well with him. “You’re pretty smart.”

“So are you.” She gave the flashlight a few hard cranks, making the beam of light grow stronger. “There’s supper at our house if you’re interested.”

“Ya? Is it any good?”

“Better than your burnt toast specialty.”

He started to leave but then paused and held the kerosene lantern near the sleigh. Between him and Beth, maybe he should be the first to refuse to hoard broken things from the past. If he could make himself renovate this sleigh, he might find it had more to give than bad memories and haunting voices.

G
abe Price walked beside Beth as they left his office. “How soon before you’ll know?”

Beth’s heart pounded with excitement, and she glanced at Gloria, who rose from her chair in the waiting room.

Beth kept her tone even, her emotions in check, as she put on her winter jacket. “I’ll talk with Jonah Kinsinger as soon as I can reach him. He may need a while to think before responding, but I expect to have an answer for you within a week.”

Gabe walked with her as they went to the van. The early-November air made her shiver.

He opened the door. “Sounds good. I hope this works out.”

She slid into the vehicle. “Me too.”

Gabe closed the door, and Gloria started the engine. Beth waved and managed to keep her excitement under control until they were out of his driveway.

“Yes!” Beth stomped her feet in quick succession. “Can you believe this? If Jonah agrees to these contracts, it’ll be the best deal I’ve ever made for an Amish craftsman.”

“I’ve always said you got confidence, Bethie girl. Bold, brassy gall. That’s all I can say.”

“Ya, but look what I came away with.” She pulled the contracts out of her bag. “You know my next question, right?”

“Hmm, let me think about this. It’ll have something to do with going to Jonah Kinsinger’s place.”

“If he had a phone, I’d call first, but even if we can’t catch him at home, we can leave the information at Pete’s. Maybe Pete can tell us where to find him.”

“Who are you talking to? There’s no way you’re heading back to Pennsylvania without a face-to-face with Jonah, even if we have to stay at the closest motel and try again tomorrow.”

“We’ve been traveling together for too long, Gloria. What else can you tell me about myself?”

“That you’re not hungry, but I am. That you won’t need a rest room for another four hours, but I do. That you probably slept no more than three hours last night getting ready for today, and on the way home you’ll fall asleep. And that you pay well enough that I’m willing to drop everything almost anytime you need a driver.”

Beth drummed her fingers on her canvas briefcase, ready to tell Gloria she knew about her longstanding agreement with Beth’s parents. “Well, you have more incentive than just what I pay you, don’t you?”

Gloria glanced from the road to Beth and back again several times. “You’re not supposed to know about that.”

“What, am I eighteen and on my first business trip again?”

“How long have you known?”

“Since I was eighteen and going on my second trip.”

Gloria broke into laughter. “They love you, you know.”

The joy of the deal faded, and she managed a nod. She knew. The problem was she’d kept so much of herself from them once she began having trouble with Henry that they no longer knew the real her. Even when in the room with them, she missed the closeness she’d once cherished.

“Your family couldn’t stand letting you go on these trips without a chaperone.”

“So they sweeten the pot because you’re the safest driver they know, and you report back to them if I start some ungodly behavior like eating without a silent prayer before and after the meal, right?”

Gloria chuckled. “You have a dry sense of humor. Sometimes I don’t know if you’re teasing or perfectly serious. They trust me to keep you safe. That’s all they really want.”

“Well, then, let’s safely travel to Jonah’s place. You know where he lives?”

“I know. Do we need to call Lizzy and say we’re extending the trip by a few hours?”

“I guess we do. I wasn’t sure how this would go with Gabe, so I didn’t tell her we might go on to Jonah’s. You stop as needed for food and rest rooms. You call. You drive. I’ll work.”

Beth opened her briefcase and removed paperwork. The next time she looked up, they were passing through the little town of Tracing and were near Pete’s Antiques. The roads twisted and curved until Gloria pulled into a driveway.

“That’s the house Lizzy went to,” Gloria said, pointing. “Then she went into that shop.”

Beth slid the files and contracts into her briefcase. “I need to talk with Jonah alone, but you can’t stay in the van the whole time. If he’s home, I hope to be a while.”

“Your aunt sure liked him. Sounds to me like he’s good at working his way into the hearts of Hertzler women.”

Beth opened the door. “You coming?”

“I’ll wait here for now. We’ll change plans as needed.”

Driving the rig toward home, Jonah listened while Amos shared humorous stories from their day at the lumbermill business. The moment Jonah guided the horse and carriage into the driveway, he spotted a van. It looked like the same vehicle Lizzy had used when she visited, although there was no shortage of white work vans in these parts.

Before he could direct the horse to swing the buggy wide so he could see the license plate, his grandmother burst through the door and hurried down the steps. The intensity on her face caused him to stop the rig.

“Beth’s here,” she said. “Arrived about forty minutes ago.”

He couldn’t name the emotion that thundered through him—hope, unrest, anxiety—but his insides felt caught in a hailstorm. “Beth or Lizzy?”

“She’s wearing black. That’s Beth, right?”

He passed the reins to Amos. “Ya. Where is she?”

“Since I thought she was the one you told me about, I sent her to your place. Her driver is inside with me.”

Without asking any of the questions he wanted to, he headed for his cabin. Cold air circled around him and dead November leaves crunched under his feet as he walked to his house. Smoke rose from his chimney, and he wondered if his grandfather had started a fire for her. If his
grossdaddi
had walked into Jonah’s home, she already knew the man writing to her wasn’t who she’d thought. He said a silent prayer and went inside.

Beth sat in a ladder back at the worktable in his living room, her attention on the carving in front of her. She held one of his many finished crossword magazines in her hand.

The moment she looked up, emotion drained from her face, and she reminded him of the stark beauty of tree limbs in winter.

He crossed the room. “Beth.”

Her blue eyes reflected unease as she laid the magazine down. He removed his hat and set it on the table.

“I’m Jonah Kinsinger.”

She stood. “What?” Disbelief colored her whisper.

“I have to tell you a few things that will be hard to hear at first, but I see no reason for us to end our friendship because I’m younger than you thought. It’s still me, Beth. And the woman I’ve been getting to know is really you.” He pointed to the carving. “I understand that you like my work.”

“Your
work?” She grabbed her satchel and pulled out one of his letters. “This Jonah Kinsinger?”

“Ya. There was a mix-up, and I didn’t know I was writing to you, and you didn’t know… Well, I realized something was wrong the night I called the store. Remember the odd conversation you had with—”

“What?” she interrupted, but he doubted she actually wanted any information repeated.