Christmas in Apple Ridge by Cindy Woodsmall Read Free Book Online Page A

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